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changetyre · 6 months

Note

Thank you for all of the stories recently! Can you do one where Lando gets tired of you calling him “Little Lando Norris” and decides to show you how big he really is?

L.L.N II Lando Norris ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: Lando doesn't mind you making fun and playing games just as long as you're aware of the truth...and he'll be more than happy to remind you.

WARNINGS: **18+**

A/N: Got some good news so felt inspired to write again ;) Sorry for the delay.

"Aww poor little Lando." You jokingly patted him on the back. "Better luck next time buddy." you laughed as you walked away leaving him fuming.

Once again you'd beat Lando for 3rd place by merely a few seconds, an ongoing rivalry between you both that had everyone at the edge of their seats.

Ever since karting you and Lando had this heated rivalry, always making the other's life impossible and being each other's biggest competition so it was no surprise when it continued onto Formula 1.

To the outside world, it was incredibly entertaining for everyone to see the rivalry between the two of you. The rude remarks and snarky comments you threw at each other during interviews, the hate between you two only brewing stronger with each race.

But little did people know the way you were able to keep the hate at bay and keep yourselves in check. It had all started as a stupid drunk mistake when you found yourselves fucking in a club bathroom. The memory was hazy but you both remembered enough to know that deep down you liked it.

The next time it was a simple rash decision, you didn't think about it when you found yourself waking up in Lando Norris's room naked his arm across your waist, quickly throwing it off before running back to your room.

It was good. The sex was good, and that was the only reason you kept coming back. That's what you both told each other.

But it had become a frequent occurrence now, almost 5 months of quick and meaningless fucks where you could let out the pent-up tension and anger you had for each other.

But this still didn't take away from the fact that you still loved to piss each other off on track. Secretly you'd grown to love doing it more because you felt the direct consequence of it later.

"Lando, how do you feel about yet another close battle today with your biggest rival on track?" The interviewer asked him.

"Yeah, she just got lucky getting the better line around the next corners, but she knows I'm not one to back down, she knows what's coming for her," Lando smirked loving the double meaning behind his words.

He could see you a few feet from him giving your own interview. He just about heard you when once again you'd referred to him as Little Lando Norris, something you'd taken to recently which just irked him a little more than usual.

He watched you carefully, keeping his eyes on you like a hawke which to everyone else looked like pure hatred but truly it was simply because Lando could see the way Pierre got a little too friendly with you for his liking.

Lando would never admit it to you but he truly couldn't control the jealousy that erupted in his stomach whenever he saw you get too friendly with anyone. Whatever you had might have been meaningless but as far as he was concerned you were still his for now.

"Alright thanks, Lando enjoy your break." Lawrence finalized the interview with Lando outside the McLaren hospitality just as he could see you walking out of the press conference room with Pierre quickly by your side.

He didn't hesitate as he stood up with a quick step towards you. His blood boiling when he heard you laugh at something Pierre said.

"I need to talk to you." Lando stood in front of you making you stop abruptly and bump into his chest.

"Oh look hey speaking of the devil." You smirked.

"Little Lando Norris." Pierre joked but for some reason, Lando didn't find it the least bit amusing coming from him.

"Okay well can't talk now so bye." You were about to move past him but Lando grabbed your arm.

"Wasn't asking." Lando was ready to pull you away with him but was stopped by Pierre who grabbed your other hand.

"I actually just asked her for a drink so-" Pierre was quick to tell Lando.

"So she can't right now." Lando didn't let him finish or you protest before whisking you away.

You were completely taken aback as Lando shamelessly dragged you away from Pierre not caring the way there were several eyes on you as he took you towards the McLaren building.

Your heart pounded in your chest rendering you speechless as he walked you all the way into the building past several staff members before reaching his room where he was quick to shut you both inside.

"Lando what the-" you finally regained your voice as the door closed behind you.

"Shut up." Lando pressed his lip to yours as he pressed you to the wall. You had to push through the rush that invaded your body trying not to give in so easily.

"Lando, what has gotten into you?" You asked breathlessly as Lando began kissing down your neck unbuttoning your jeans and dragging them down

"So it's just Lando now?" was all he said.

"What are you- ah fuck." before you could reply again you cut yourself off when Lando began ruthlessly attacking your clit.

Lando basked in the pleasure he could produce on you loving the way you became putty in his hands behind closed doors despite the way you loved to tease him and take control outside.

Lando's pants suddenly felt painfully tight as he continued his attack on you taking the liberty he unbuckled his pants all while still tasting you before pulling his dick out into his hands to give it a few pumps.

Lando didn't stop, not until you had your first orgasm before finally getting up. "Why don't you return the favor baby?" Lando asked despite knowing he didn't have to since you were on your knees before he could even finish asking.

You prepared yourself knowing the ache you would feel from sucking him off having to open wide to take him into your mouth. Lando's eyes showed the smugness in them at watching the way you always struggled initially to take him never able to take him all down until you'd sucked him off for a while.

Lando groaned as you began moving your head up and down, your hands taking care of what you couldn't fit in your mouth for now.

"Nothing so little about that is there?" Lando asked the pride clear in his voice.

Only now did you understand what this was all about but you didn't care to complain since he'd gotten you all worked up.

"Why don't you make it extremely clear for me." You decided to try to have your own way.

"Gadly baby." Lando pulled you up before picking you up and using the wall to support you in his arms before using one of his hands to line himself up against your whole.

"Please-" You pleaded, Lando loved the way you begged every time he got near you like these.

"you ready?" he asked despite feeling your wetness already drip onto him.

"Yes, please fuck me." You sighed as you grabbed Lando's face to kiss him.

Lando used this distraction to push himself all the way inside you swallowing your yelp. "Shit baby you're so wet," Lando whispered knowing he had to keep semi-quiet because of the remaining staff in the building right now. Although half of him hoped everyone could hear what you were doing and the way he was making you feel right now...make it crystal clear to everyone.

"Ah, fuck Lando go faster." You begged him as Lando pushed in and out of you fully and completely at a brutally slow pace.

"Who's making you feel like this baby?" Lando asked not answering to your pleas just yet.

"You Lan...You are." You could almost cry at the torturous pace he'd set.

"not even fucking Pierre can make you feel like this can he?" His words were laced with disgust and anger which made your stomach flutter.

"No...no just you." You replied kissing Lando once again.

This was enough for Lando as he picked up his pace feeling the way you clenched around him and the way you struggled to keep quiet.

"Fu...so good...shit" You moaned in a whisper as Lando kept thrusting faster and faster into you against the wall.

Lando could cum at the sight of you, watching the way your tits would bounce with each thrust, the way your eyes rolled back, and hearing your uneven breaths as you tried to keep quiet while your orgasm quickly approached, feeling the way you held onto him as if your own skin was begging for more. This was it. This was glory to Lando.

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #f1smut #smut #f1 one shot #f1 smut #f1fic #formula 1 #changetyre #lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #ln4

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ryukatters · 8 months

Text

swipe right — k. bakugo x fem! reader

✮ a/n: i remember seeing a post on here a long time ago about a character making a fake tinder profile for their gf and realizing how many people want her. (if someone knows the OG post please lmk so i can link it!) so now i present to you: bakugo falling to his knees in the middle of your apartment bedroom for the exact same reason.

✮ content/warnings: dubcon, quirkless/college! au, jealousy, possessiveness, breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, cum eating, cunnilingus, overstimulation, praise, biting, bkg gets a little rough with you, and bkg's also a fucking simp but when do I ever write him as being otherwise??

✮ summary: your boyfriend decides to make a fake tinder profile for you just to see how many matches you get. he comes to a realization just how many other people want what’s already his.

✮ word count: 4.2k (i'm so sick)

Bakugo can remember how this all started. In very vivid detail, actually. He remembers because Kaminari had pissed him off so much to the extent that it took him a very substantial amount of effort to refrain from bashing his friend’s face in.

It all started during the last monthly hangout amongst Bakugo and his friends— one day out of the month designated to make sure that they all had time to catch up with one another despite their busy schedules.

Everything was normal, with all of them getting more than enough of their fill of food and alcohol while idly playing video games and talking about random topics to fill in the silence in Kaminari’s living room.

Perfectly normal, until Denki decided to open his stupid mouth, at least.

He goes off on a tangent about a trend he saw on social media where someone makes a fake Tinder profile for their partner to see how many matches they’d get. He proceeds to tell Bakugo that he should try doing it, for “funsies,”— to which Bakugo scoffs at.

“Aren’t you curious, Kacchan?” Kaminari smiles cheekily, wrapping an arm around his blond friend’s shoulders, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Bakugo’s becoming visibly more upset with every passing moment.

“Your girlfriend is really pretty,” Mina chimes in, sticking her tongue out when Katsuki whips his head to glare at her. “I’m still surprised she’s with a grump like you.”

Kaminari butts in, “I bet there’s a whole line of guys around the block just waiting for a chance to get with her. I mean, just look at her! Hell, I’d even let her peg m—”

For a moment, Bakugo swears he wants to bash Kaminari’s face into his flatscreen. And for a moment, he lets that impulsive thought win— getting up and grabbing two fistfuls of Denki’s shirt before promptly getting cut off by Kirishima.

“Alright alright,” Kirishima forcibly pries Bakugo off of the other blond, pushing him off to the side. “That’s enough, you two. Kaminari was just messing around. I’ll admit, it wasn’t a good joke, but no need to hurt the guy, okay Bakugo?”

Kirishima knows that Kaminari wasn’t being that serious, but Kirishima can also admit that what he had to say held some ounce of truth. And Kirishima knows Bakugo well enough to see how your boyfriend tends to be rather skittish and protective with matters concerning you— which is exactly why Eijiro had to stop him before it was too late. He really didn’t feel like preparing for Denki’s funeral or helping hide Katsuki escape from a homicide charge.

And that was that…up until a few minutes ago.

Katsuki’s tried to forget that conversation. But try as he might, his mind betrays him and can’t help but wander back to what Denki said that night.

He trusts you of course, and has complete faith in your relationship. However, he’s curious to a fault, just about perhaps too curious for his own good.

How badly could this end?

As it turns out, this whole scheme seems to be playing out very poorly.

Dozens of photos of you— screenshotted from your social media accounts— fill Katsuki’s screen. He had to choose photos you uploaded yourself, because most of his photos of you were either too…suggestive or too domestic (and he wants to be the only one to see you in those moments).

He swipes through “your” profile one last time before clicking “done” to officially put you on the market. And just like that, Bakugo’s met with the faces of men who are nowhere near your level. He goes through the batch of profiles, scrutinizing each one he comes across. He’s (un)surprisingly selective with the ones he chooses to swipe right on— making sure that they’re at least somewhat conventionally attractive. To his surprise (or dread, rather), his phone pings right away with a notification from someone who swiped back. Another ping. A message.

You free tonight?

Bakugo scoffs. He looks through the guy’s profile— a picture of him at a party with his arms around some girls, another with him doing a victory pose presumably after hiking, and one with him holding a fish. He feels his mouth curl in disgust, about to give into the urge to reply and give this guy a piece of his mind, before he realizes he’s pretending to be you. He takes a deep breath, closes out of the app, and puts down his phone.

He’s starting to regret this.

Bakugo’s phone has gone off 15 times in the last hour. Bakugo has also felt the need to strangle some stranger through the phone 15 times in the last hour. Your (read: his) profile has existed for less than 60 minutes, and you already have a whole address book of nobodies trying to link with you and get a quick fuck.

He feels the familiar beginnings of a headache creeping up the back of his skull. He thinks he might need a drink. Why did he decide to do this again?

In hindsight, he probably should have known this is exactly how it was going to go down.

What was that saying? Curiosity killed the cat?

Yeah.

He was never great at self-preservation in the first place. So this, the feeling of overwhelming jealousy, frustration, possessiveness brewing up a storm threatening to pour out of every single fiber of Bakugo’s being— was no surprise.

He watches as the numbers at the bottom of his screen increase steadily, before tapping on the star icon.

‘99+ likes!’ it reads. Over 99 people who saw your profile and thought you were beautiful. Bakugo pales, and he can feel the cold sweat building on the nape of his neck. He grips his phone, knuckles turning white. Is he shaking from anger or nervousness?

Anger because all these guys think they even have the slightest chance with someone as amazing as you. Nervousness because what if you decide that they do? You wouldn’t actually leave him for one of these guys, right? Right?

None of these men would walk through hell and back for you. They don’t know how you like your coffee, the details of your skin care routine, how you like to binge watch shows and talk Katsuki’s ear off about them (not that he ever minded, of course). They don’t know you, not like he does. Katsuki looks at you like you hung the moon. In fact, he’s pretty convinced that you did. Everything good in his life— the warmth, the color, the joy,— is encompassed by you. He’d be damned if he lets some greasy little nobody take that from him. Because the moment Bakugo fell in love with you, you became a part of him— inextricably and indefinitely. Loving you has become so intrinsic to him, that even the mere thought of another person loving you or looking at you the same way he does has him going insane. Not that anyone could love you like he did, though. That thought brings him some comfort, but not for long.

One last notification he sees sends him spiraling. Bakugo swears that he can see red. That’s when he deletes the app, and throws his poor phone in some random corner of the living room, which is markedly one of the smarter choices he’s made as of late. He marches to your bedroom with a fire burning in his chest.

He stops short of the door and finds you sitting at the edge of your shared bed, fresh out of the shower. You’re applying lotion, and he watches the cream absorb into your skin wordlessly, in awe at how overwhelmingly beautiful you manage to look in the most prosaic of tasks. For a second, he almost forgets the reason he was upset in the first place.

Your hair is still damp, water droplets accumulating at the tips, and Katsuki feels his mouth run dry the minute he watches a stray bead fall and make its way down your neck and stop perfectly in the dip of your collarbone. Your very existence is forever etched into his heart, every inch of you carved into his memory, but even still he can never get tired of looking at you. At every angle, in every lighting, he needs to see you in it. You could call him obsessed, but he’d simply laugh and agree, because what’s so wrong with that? Especially if it’s you.

You’re one to be studied— to be adored, Katsuki thinks, to the greatest capacity. It’s what you deserve. And what better person for that task to fall upon than him?

He finds himself naturally gravitating towards you, his finger tracing the same exact path the water had carved just moments before, wordlessly. You try to pay no mind, but it’s difficult as you realize just how close Bakugo was and how your towel barely manages to cover up your most intimate parts. One wrong move and you’d be exposed. With how things were playing out, and the predatory glint in the blond’s eyes, you don’t think your boyfriend would be too perturbed with your current predicament.

Katsuki presses a delicate kiss to your forehead before he crouches down. Suddenly, you’re at eye level with one another, his hot breath tickling your lips. You think for a moment he’s going to kiss you so you lean forward, lips waiting. But he merely grazes them before he sucks a deep bruise into the juncture of your neck, biting slightly.

You’re barely given any time to react before he’s grabbing the hand that’s securing your towel and ripping it away, the offending garment falling off your body. Your flesh prickles with goosebumps as its exposed to the sudden chill. It’s quickly replaced by the heat of Bakugo’s body as he pushes you lightly, your back hitting the mattress. He crawls on top of you, muscular thighs on either side of your hips, your head placed conveniently between his forearms. He’s trapped you, a nonverbal challenge for you to try and escape.

You’re a work of art, he thinks, but much more valuable than any pièce de résistance framed in any museum.

Beautiful, yes, but far too blank for his liking. He wants to ruin you, make you his own personal magnum opus. And so he does.

He presses a clothed knee against your bare cunt, pressing firmly. His lips continue their assault on your neck, leaving angry purpling bruises in their wake. Rough hands find your breast, and you moan in surprise when he gives both of them a harsh squeeze as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. Katsuki kisses you like a man dying of thirst, hungry for everything you can offer him and more. It’s all too much already, the way he’s kissing you has your mind reeling, and you have to turn your head away for a moment to catch your breath. Katsuki thinks it’s a moment too long without you, so he coaxes you into locking lips with him once more. A wave of mischievousness washes over you, prompting you to take your boyfriend’s lower lip in between your teeth, biting down lightly.

You feel his breath hitch, before he lets out a low groan as he grinds his clothed dick against your bare wetness. He returns the favor, sucking on your bottom lip before letting it go with a wet pop. He pulls back with a lazy smirk, his lips pursing together to scatter messy kisses down the base of your throat and down your chest, alternating between sucking and biting at the flesh.

He gives you a good once-over, scanning every surface, committing them to memory. You feel the need to curl into yourself with how intensely those vermillion eyes are piercing into you, memorizing every single curve, scar, freckle like he’s done time and time again.

He drops down to his knees, broad shoulders bullying their way in between your legs, forcibly prying them open. He grips your hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh, and drags you down the mattress until your legs are dangling off the bed.

“Jesus, Kats, be more gentle.”

“Shhh. I know you like it when I’m not gentle,” he chuckles. As if to prove a point, he pulls you down even further, giving a harsh bite to your inner thigh. He smiles deviously when you yelp. You try to pull at his hair but his reflexes are too quick, pinning both of your wrists down on either side of you easily. “Besides, this is the perfect height for me to eat you out, dontcha think baby?”

You want to chastise him for being so crass, so Katsuki, but the words die on the tip of your tongue the minute he gives a sweet, loving kiss to your clit, sucking lightly.

“You’re mine. I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this except for me.”

You’re not entirely sure what brought this on, but you find it hard to complain when Bakugo drags his tongue from your throbbing clit to inside your pussy, drinking everything you have to offer.

Your hands automatically try to find purchase in his blond locks, struggling against the vice grip Katsuki has on your wrists. He decides to take pity on you, loosening his hold so you can slip your hands into his hair, moaning appreciatively when he feels you tug. He rewards you by flicking his tongue on your clit over and over again, just the way you like it. He does it until your moans begin to pitch higher and higher, the same way that they do when you’re close. He doesn’t stop his ministrations even after you cum, riding out your orgasm until your thighs are shaking from overstimulation. He pulls away from you with a loud pop, taking in the sight before him.

He runs a hand up and down your thigh soothingly. “So fucked out already and we’re barely getting started, baby.”

Your mind is barely processing his words before you feel Katsuki’s erection brush against your stomach, his clothing haphazardly discarded on the floor. He taps the head of his dick against your clit to tease you, a feeling of satisfaction swelling when you cry out from under him.

He watches in fascination as strings of your arousal cling to him. He positions his length at your entrance, locking eyes with you as you hold your breath in anticipation. Katsuki likes you like this. Needy for him.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that?” He slips into you with a stuttered groan.

Katsuki’s always been big. You never get used to the initial stretch, no matter how many times you two fuck. Still, that doesn’t stop him from sliding in with ease from the slick of your last orgasm. It easily coats his cock as he gives a few experimental thrusts. He groans in rapture. How do you manage to feel so good every time? It’s enough to drive him insane. Perhaps he already is.

“So fucking perfect, no wonder why all those losers want you.” He mutters out the last part, and you’re not sure if you caught that right.

“What?” He chooses not to respond, and you aren’t given the opportunity to think any further before your legs are thrown over his shoulders, Katsuki’s weight effectively pinning you in place. The stretch knocks all the wind out of your lungs, and all you can do is cling to Katsuki, nails leaving red, angry lines on his well-defined back.

He wastes no time before he starts drilling into you, hips slotting in between your legs perfectly. The position has him pressed against your clit, and your entire body feels like it’s been set ablaze, with Katsuki holding both the power to have it burn even brighter and the ability to extinguish it. And you’re almost there, you can feel your soul slowly ascending, your room filled with hymns of pleasure, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter, threatening to unravel along with your sanity. Katsuki can feel it too— the way you’re squeezing him tighter, how your gasps and moans have climbed just a note higher, how absolutely ruined you look, how he’s responsible for your current state. Which is exactly why he wants to push it even further, he wants to see how much you’ll break for him— and only him.

Katsuki cuts you off right before you can reach your peak, pulling out but making sure just his tip is inserted. You come to and take a look at your lover and marvel at the sight. He has a crazed look in his eyes. The way he smirks is absolutely wicked.

You feel distraught— having been so close but having it ripped away from you. You give your boyfriend a petulant pout.

“Katsuki,” you whine, slapping a hand against his sweaty chest, “Why’d you stop? I was so close!”

“Because I didn’t want you to cum yet,” he says simply. “You’ll be good for me, yeah? I’ll give my baby what she deserves, as long as she’s good.”

You roll your eyes, huffing. That won’t do for him.

As much as he loves seeing you indulge, he feels a need to punish you— at least a little bit to even begin to atone for being the wicked temptress you are.

“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat,” Bakugo growls, gripping your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks, causing your lips to purse slightly. “I said be good, okay? Wanna take my time with you.”

There’s a moment of respite, until you sigh in defeat, knowing better than to argue with him lest you wanted to dig your own grave. “‘Kay, ‘ki.”

He flashes you a smile. Obedient, just how he likes you. “Good girl.”

Katsuki draws his hips back, thrusting just enough to fuck his tip into you. He’s teasing. The amount of willpower on his end it takes not to cum is nauseating.

“You’re so pretty, aren’t you?” he rasps, one hand finding their way around your neck, squeezing just enough to make your head spin. Your hands reflexively grab his wrist.

All you can manage is a fucked out moan. Katsuki has to resist the urge to coo, about how he’s managed to turn you into a cockdrunk mess in such a short matter of time. The wave of possessiveness that’s been gnawing at the depths of his soul begins to seep out, and he’s reminded of the reason why the two of you are in this position in the first place.

He gives your throat another squeeze and a rough slap to your clit. “C’mon princess, answer me. Say it.” He slowly adds more and more pressure until your ears grow hot and air feels like a precious commodity.

“I-i’m pretty,” you manage to gasp out, tears spilling from your lash line as you begin to lose yourself between the space of pleasure and pain.

Good. Always so pliant for him.

“That’s right, baby,” he concedes. “So fuckin’ beautiful.” He punctuates the last word with a deep thrust, right against that spongy spot that feels so good. You’re so sensitive that it’s enough to send you spiraling into your second orgasm, walls spasming around him uncontrollably.

Katsuki stills, staving off his own release with all the restraint he can summon. He silently thanks whatever divine forces are out there that he didn’t cum the minute he felt the first clench of your orgasm.

He grits his teeth as he wills himself to move, trying not to get lost in the wetness that envelops him. You’re babbling now, senseless moans filling Katsuki’s ears like a sweet melody.

“Kats, please, I’m too sensitive—” You’re shaking now, muscles trembling with every thrust.

“But I’m not done with you yet,” he says simply, drawing his hips back with a particularly rough thrust. You choke back whatever you were going to say with a loud cry. “What’s your color, baby?”

You take a moment to answer, brain trying to comprehend the words just uttered to you. You look at Katsuki firmly, “Green.”

“Atta girl,” he praises, the drive of his hips beginning to shallow. He’s close, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out. But for you, he tries. “You’re mine, right?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, shivering as goosebumps dance across your skin.

“Say it,” Katsuki pleads, thrusts growing sloppy by the second. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m all yours, ‘ki.”

With that, Katsuki’s fate is sealed. He’s left groaning as a flash of pleasure shakes his very soul, filling you up with so much cum that it dribbles onto the mattress even while he’s still inside you. You follow suit, an embarrassingly obscene rhythm of squelching noises fill the silence as you spasm around his dick. He collapses on top of you, but he’s still coherent enough to not dump all his weight on you.

Your labored breaths fill the room as the two of you come to. Katsuki pulls out of you with a wince, still a bit sensitive. He gives you a peck on the lips before he drags himself down, settling in between your legs much like he was earlier.

You tense up, “Kats, wait—”

Any and all protests cease the moment Bakugo works his tongue inside of you, slurping lewdly as he drags out the mixture of your cum and his, swallowing. He tries not to stimulate your puffy clit in an attempt to be merciful, but you still feel yourself steadily climbing to what would be your fourth orgasm this session. While the past three have been intense and drowning, this one comes to you in waves, dull pleasure invading your senses as Katsuki continues to eat you out to clean you up.

He pulls away when you finish, your slick and his saliva coating his chin before he wipes it off on the back of his hand. You stare at his half-hard erection with a half concerned, half quizzical look. “Do you…” you lick your lips, “need help with that? I’m a little sensitive down there but I could use my mout—”

“Nah, I’m good babe,” he says earnestly, flashing you a smile that he only ever shows around you. “I’ll be back.” With that, your boyfriend leaves the room only to come back with a bottle of water.

“Drink.” You comply, finishing half the bottle graciously before handing it to him. He downs the rest before he settles next to you on the bed, laying on his side. You mirror him, shifting your body so that you’re both facing each other.

Katsuki reaches out, finger idly tracing random shapes and lines onto the bare skin on your hip. He has a pensive look on his face, one that he usually doesn’t hold after stolen moments like this; it’s an expression he wears when he’s in deep thought.

“Baby,” you call out. His eyes snap to yours, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah?”

“Whatcha thinking about?” You watch as a hesitant look flashes across your boyfriend’s face before he shakes his head.

“S’nothin’. Just thinkin’ about us two.” He speaks lightly. It’s always been difficult for him to voice his inner thoughts and feelings, so he tends to beat around the bush. You’ve learned that if you ever want something out of him, you’d have to pry a little. Katsuki always indulges you though.

“What about us?”

“Do you- do you think you’ll ever get tired of this?” He repeats himself, clearing his throat. The question is followed by a weaker, “...of me?”

You think it’s the most ridiculous question he’s ever asked, because the answer should be obvious. “I’d never get tired of you, Katsuki. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he replies automatically, “but if I ever do anything that upsets you, or if I get too much for you, or if I—” he’s rambling now. Yes, it’s difficult for Katsuki to talk about his feelings, but once you manage to get him to open up, all the walls of his self-made fortress come crashing down and it’s up to you to pick up the pieces.

“Baby,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his lips, cupping his sharp jaw with one hand. “Look at me.” And he does— ruby eyes meeting yours. “I love you because you’re you. And I choose to be with you everyday. It’s not always gonna be perfect, no relationship is. But I know that I will always wake up and choose you.”

You can see the anxiety melt away from Katsuki’s body, shoulders slumping as he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Love you too, sap,” is all he says before he’s pulling you against his chest, squeezing you into a bearhug. You two stay that way until both of you are lulled to sleep.

You’re laying in bed with Katsuki, both of you dozing off when you hear a slight buzz from your phone on the nightstand. You squint as you try to read the notification, and make out that it’s from your friend.

Denki Kaminari: So did it work?

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing, giving a quick glance over your shoulder to check on your boyfriend— fast asleep. You turn back to your phone, your thumbs making quick work at your keyboard.

You: Just like I said it would. Thanks Denki :)

Writing belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not share my work on Tiktok.

#bakugo x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x y/n #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #kat's writing #kat's demon time #tw.dubcon #cw.dubcon #tw.overstimulation #cw.overstimulation

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holybibly · 5 months

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IT'S YOU |Woosan x reader| Part I Part 2

Genre: smut, from friends to lovers!au, college!au

Word Count: 6,6k

Summary: Sometimes drunken decisions lead to the most unexpected results and the most shocking confessions. Or, after your boyfriend cheats on you, you propose a threesome to your best friends and it might just be what they have always wanted.

WARNING: only!18+ pet names, explicit sexual content, explicit language, unprotected sex, pussy eating, size kink, oral giving and receiving, double penetration, threesomes, dirty talk and more.

A/N: Here they are, our winners. I'm a little overjoyed because I'm about to try out a new style for myself (BTW, which of my styles of my work do you love most? Answer in the comments, it will help me much). One of the things I have to learn is the writing of shorter chapters. This one was so long that I had to split it into two parts. The second part won't take too long either.I'm still trying my best to write smut. So please be gentle with me.

There will be an update in a separate post about the rest of the work. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

One year ago.

It was a feeling of sweet euphoria coursing through your veins. Pure, scalding ecstasy that frothed your blood and clouded your mind. Multicolored neon lights licked greedily at your wet, naked skin, leaving acid green and poisonous pink burns on it. All your senses were overloaded, and every touch felt like a liquid flame. The throbbing bass of the deafening music echoed through your body like the beating of your own heart and completely consumed all of your other senses, except for absolute pleasure.

You lost track of the amount of alcohol you had consumed that day, shot after shot, until a pleasant fog began to form in your head, blocking out all other thoughts. The tequila flowed down your throat like water, and you were sure you'd remember how it tasted in the morning, but you didn't care what you'd done tonight or how you knew you'd feel tomorrow. You didn't care about that. Your aim was to forget yourself, to disappear into the crowd, to merge with the music until any connection to the outside world was nothing more than the beginning of the next day.

Dance, baby, dance!

The atmosphere in the club grew fuzzier and fainter, sweaty, hot bodies pressed closer together merging, the hot touches of forbidden pleasures caressing the skin with the fingertips of strangers, wet lips touching the bare, sticky skin on you shoulders, pressing rough impatient kisses into it. Too many people and too many strangers are here for nothing but fuck.

You weren't a stupid little girl who believed in virginal marriage and pink ponies; to be honest, you were far from that gentle picture. God, Wooyoung, and San had been your best friends since high school, and now you were at university, and if after all that time you couldn't repeat every position in the Kama Sutra by heart, it really surprised you. Innocence and modesty were the last words in your vocabulary, and with Wooyoung's big mouth, you were well aware of the whole of theirs sex life. And when you say everything, you mean every fucking detail, and to Wooyoung's credit, he has a great memory and meticulous storytelling.

How long has it been since you started dancing? 20 minutes—or was it two hours? You could swear that Sang and Ueyoung were at your side a minute ago. Or did they leave you alone on the dance floor hours ago?

You can't remember at all.

Your mind is buzzing, your fingertips are tingling, and your heart is pounding against your ribs from the adrenaline rush of matching the beat of some new-fangled track and creating a world of your own inside your body. This sound will vibrate more and more strongly under your skin until your brain ceases to function, allowing you to let go of all the worries in the world and give yourself over completely to the music. Alcohol really does work wonders.

Man, you felt so good.

In the back of your drunken mind, you can't help but wonder if tonight could have gone differently. Probably, but here you are, drunk as hell, huddled with a stranger on a neon dance floor instead of a soft bed in your favorite man's arms. Where the hell did you take the wrong turn? It would seem that something in the universe hasn't gone quite according to plan. Did you have any idea this morning that your sweet, perfect boyfriend would be cheating on you? Correction: he's been cheating on you for a long time. You probably never would have found out if you hadn't come home from couples earlier than usual and continued to be his "convenient girlfriend." Hell, it wasn't nice, and maybe not as hurtful, if he'd been fucking someone else instead of your best friend. Were you that bad? Weren't you good enough? Either way, you've still got time to destroy yourself—maybe tomorrow, maybe never.

Maybe you'll even think about it when you visit the bastard in the hospital. He should have known better than to even think about cheating, and the clotted blood on San's knuckles proved that. Everyone at the university knew that you were Ateez's golden girl, and to mess with you was to mess with them. And since you, Wooyoung, and San were literally glued to each other, it was tantamount to suicide.

At the moment, the only thing that was more upsetting than the image of your ex-boyfriend driving his dick all the way up to his balls into your ex-friend's skinny body was the fact that your beautiful vintage sofa would have to be thrown away. Semen doesn't wash off. You checked.

Hongjoong is going to be absolutely devastated. That sofa was the absolute love of his life.

It's all nothing more than a vague memory of the day gone by, mixed into an indecipherable cacophony of shrill screams and blurred images. To be honest, you don't remember much of the chaos, as Wooyoung pressed your face against his chest with such force that you wouldn't be surprised to see your make-up imprinted on the light fabric of his shirt. All you could hear was loud cursing and the sound of a punch in the face. You hoped that San's punch was strong enough to break the asshole's jaw. And after that, there were a few hours of tears and emotional crisis until they'd had enough and pulled you into this club with a gentle and accepting hand: "Come on, baby, you could use a break and a change of scenery" from San, and "Fuck that scumbag, go show him what he's lost, baby" from Wooyoung. It was an absolute mystery how the two of them synchronized perfectly.

You have no idea what you would do without these two.

A few more minutes go by in this way, until you feel hot hands on your hips, pulling you closer to the hard body on your back. You don't have to turn around to see that it's San; the scent of his perfume, mixed with the sweat and the smoke of a freshly smoked cigarette, makes you dizzy, and you rest your head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath of the intoxicating mixture. Suddenly you want to get as close to him as possible, turn around and press your face against his hard, structured chest, breathing in deeply and sinking into him completely. Your arms reach out behind you and wrap around San's neck, tangling your fingers in the scarlet strands of hair at the nape of his neck. You feel it on your back as the action makes him purr like a cat. You wonder what other sounds you might be able to catch him making.

You shake yourself. The thought of it sends shivers down your arms and makes all the muscles in your lower abdomen tingle.

You should stop. These are bad thoughts. Very bad thoughts.

"Damn, baby girl, how much did you drink while we were away?" Wooyoung's voice is rough and husky, but his touch is gentle and careful as his fingers intertwine with yours. He has always touched you in a way that no other man in the world, with the exception of him and San, has ever been able to touch you. There was no comparison with your ex's touch. Wooyoung's touch is a promise. A promise to protect, to care, and perhaps to love? You could swear you saved the planet in your past life because you have such great friends in this one, or maybe a little more than friends, but you're not sure what to call this feeling.

You had been friends for so long that it wasn't weird not have a crush on Wooyoung or to dream of being married to San. The guy was literally a walking husband; he was second only to Songhwa in that respect, but please, Hwa was the epitome of husband material. You might even have wanted to be in the middle of it, sandwiched between hot bodies while they literally fucked the life out of you. But it was all just thoughts. Fleeting dreams that clung to the edges of your consciousness. You were the type to date, and they were the type to fuck. You were different when it came to loving. In any case, it was all a long time ago. You had a boyfriend, and Wooyoung and San collected girls like Pokémon. Somehow, you were sure that if you slept together, your friendship would end.

You weren't ready for that. With a strength that only Jongho could match, you ignored any romantic feelings for them

"Mmm… Woo, I have no recollection, but I had fun." You licked your lips as if you were trying to taste the lingering taste of the tequila and opened your eyes to stare straight into Wooyoung's face, full of worry. He could have been the biggest bitch if he wanted to be. But for you, that 'maternal' instinct of overprotection has kicked in. You stare at him unblinkingly in that moody light, he looks beautiful, to the point of being stupidly handsome, so damn handsome that you want to pull him to you and kiss him without explanation or reason. And you can do that because you know he's never, ever going to say no to you but kiss you? Wooyoung's tongue will be the first to enter your mouth. He will suck on it like a drunk, and he will hold on to you until there is almost no air left in your lungs.

"We leave you alone, gongjunim, for five minutes, and you're already in trouble. Shall I give you a lesson in obedience?" San is speaking into your ear, loud enough for you to hear him clearly, each word coming through the loud electric bass. His voice is too sultry to be sober enough. Woo probably talked him into a few shots, although he always got drunk pretty easily. The two were threatening each other. And to you as well.

The evil voice inside your head grinned: You know you want it. He's going to punish you for being such a bad, naughty girl. He will teach you to be the best little girl for him and for them and to follow all his rules. He'll make you beg and make you cry…

Fuck, girl, come to your senses. Since when did you start to think with your pussy instead of using your brain? Or do you automatically turn into a horny, over-excited idiot after a break-up? Turn on your brains; they are your best friends.

Completely ignoring San's words, you whimpered:

"I'm thirsty." Your tongue is dry in your mouth, and your lips feel unpleasantly rough as you say the words. It looks like the fun's over for today.

San can't help but laugh at your capricious behavior, and you wriggle restlessly in his arms, trying to free yourself from his firm grip, but he only manages to hold you even tighter. You sigh in annoyance and decide to try your luck with Wooyoung.

"Woo, help me." You whine again, reaching out and pulling Wooyoung closer so that your forehead rests against his collarbone.

He smells good, like sandalwood and vanilla, like home.

Wooyoung lifts your face with his fingertips. The touch is soft and comforting, despite the roar of the music and the crowd of strangers around you. He stares intently into your eyes, almost too serious for your drunken haze. He hopes to find something more than alcohol-induced excitement.

"Come on, baby. It's time to go home." He releases your hand and carefully wipes the sweat from your forehead and cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt, his fingers lingering on your lips for a moment, and you playfully stick out your tongue and lick the pads of his fingers. God, may you not remember this tomorrow.

"But I don't want to…" You purse your lips again. You turn your head towards San, looking for his support. "Sanni, let's stay a bit more." Your big, shining eyes are not making it easy for him, but you were already quite drunk, and judging by the way your body was leaning against him, you could hardly stand properly.

"Wooyoung's right, gongjunim, it's over for you today."

Something wild in you just wants to be a brat and start arguing, but the rational part of your brain wins out. You sigh tiredly and try to wriggle out of his grip, and of course you stumble, grabbing Wooyoung's biceps with your hands in an attempt to stay on your feet and not break your high-heeled leg, which would be a great way to end the night.

A strong arm immediately wraps around your waist. It digs lightly into the exposed skin between your top and your jeans. You can feel the coldness of the thin band of his ring. It actually burns from how sensitive you were now.

"I got you, chagi." San whispers softly and hoarsely into your ear, and you cling even more tightly to Wooyoung's arm as your legs begins to shake, but no longer from the alcohol you've drunk and the tiredness, but from his sultry tone. Damn, was that a saturi, or was it just your imagination?

"We'll be on our way now, for sure." Wooyoung takes your hand once more, pulling it away from his bicep, and quickly leads you through the crowd of sweaty bodies, completely ignoring your feeble protests until you see the flashing exit sign. The red neon sign brings you ominously close to the point where you are left alone with them. And you feel San's heavy presence at your back like never before.

The sounds of the city swallow you up and make you dizzy as Wooyoung opens the heavy metal door. Couples are kissing all over the place. Noisy groups of people are huddled together waiting for a taxi or sharing a single joint, leaving a faint smell of weed in the air. You can still hear the vibrating bass of the music that is pouring out of the club; it echoes in your head in an unpleasant way, with a slight throbbing pain. All of a sudden, all you want to do is find yourself in a warm bed, snuggled up against San or Wooyoung, or even better, against both of them.

San's hand on your waist tenses as you bend over to hail a taxi. Wooyoung's hands come down on your hips, hot and strong, and just like that, you find yourself sandwiched between them, their bodies shielding you safely from the searing cold and dirty stares. You could swear that you can hear Wooyoung swears to himself while a drunk guy is moving his tongue between two spread fingers and looking in your direction. San's body tenses instinctively. What's with all this protection? We're not in some kind of alpha-character romance; you can take care of yourself.

But in spite of that, your body still relaxes, your head leans back against Wooyoung's shoulder, and you rub your face against his like a cat.

"You're so drunk, baby." Woo chuckles and gives you a light kiss on the top of your head. "That's my girl."

My girl, just the sound of that one sentence makes a little fire start in your belly. What the hell is wrong with you today? A week ago, you were rinsing his mouth after Woo drank too much, and now you're ready to lick his mouth from the inside.

Fuck.

All these thoughts make you lose track of what's happening until you feel the smooth leather of the car seat beneath you and the soft touch of San's lips on your bare shoulder. You moan, either from annoyance or excitement. San just smiles and presses his lips harder against you. Finally, you are going home.

You faintly hear Wooyoung giving the Uber driver the coordinates of your apartment complex, your hands intertwining again, relaxing further as Wooyoung's head rests on your shoulder. His long hair tickles the back of your neck.

Sobriety slowly begins to clear your head as the ride continues. You're still drunk, but you're much more aware than before.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Your voice is low, barely above a whisper, but in the confined space of the car's backseat, they can hear it well. It sets them in motion again, hands clasped around you with renewed confidence. You play mindlessly with the silver rings that adorn Wooyoung's long fingers, and you don't go unnoticed by San's light strokes on the outside of your thigh.

"All for you, chagiya." San whispers back and gives Wooyoung a meaningful look. There's something special between the two of them—a dialogue that is spoken without words but in which they both know exactly what is meant. If only you knew what was going on inside their heads…

You let your hand drop to Wooyoung's muscular thigh and ran the palm of your hand over it a couple of times, feeling the tight muscles under the skin of his trousers. He covers the palm of your hand with his own and squeezes it in a silent, gentle gesture of affection.

"I love you guys…" You whisper, sticking out your tongue to lick your suddenly dry lips. You hear them giggling together before you feel San press his nose against the soft skin of your collarbone, rubbing against it like a cat. He's the ultimate cinnamon bun; how he can be someone who's had sex with half the university is still a mystery to you.

"I love you too, gongjunim." And he means it, like he really loves you—much more than a friend should.

"Mmm, I love you more. You know that, baby." Wooyoung bites the skin on the back of your neck in a playful way, and you feel his wet tongue pressing against the site of the bite for a few seconds.

"You're not sleeping in my bed. Woo, stop it; that tactic won't work on me anymore."

He whimpers back with a puff of his swollen lips, turning his face away from you with an irritated roll of his eyes as you and San laugh, his arms naturally wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his body so that you're practically sitting on his lap. A faint melody, from some kind of soft track, pours out of the speakers and lulls you into a state of serenity. You find it harder and harder to keep your eyes open. Your body relaxes even more in San's arms.

The next twenty minutes fly by, and you only begin to wake up when the cab door slams behind you and Wooyoung drags you into her flat. The fobs on your keys jingle loudly in the silence of the corridor as San fiddles with them to unlock the door. You sway in Woo's arms as you wait for the door to your apartment to open. The soothing scent of neroli and orchids greets you as you enter, your body automatically relaxing into the safety of your personal space, and you fall wearily into the armchair opposite sofa.

As the door closes, you hear the sound of the boys hurrying down the corridor, taking off their shoes and jackets. You can imagine San carefully placing his shoes next to yours and Wooyoung's one shoe being kicked further down the corridor. So damn different.

Woo sprints into the kitchen, slams the door of the fridge shut, and there is a bottle of cold water in front of your face.

"Here you go, starlight." He sinks to the floor at your feet and leans back against them, resting his head in your lap as he does so. You run your fingers through his long black hair, brushing it away from his face, and meet his gaze with your own. It's familiar; away from the deafening music and the sweaty crowd, you feel much better now, despite the fact that a few hours ago your ex was fucking your friend on the couch across the hall. This is still your home, and you're sure that in a few days your entire apartment will be taken apart and put back together by the caring hands of Seonghwa and Yeosang, when there won't be a trace of your failed past relationships left. "Are you okay?" San asks, leaning against the doorjamb.

"I'm… fine, yeah. Probably not as good as I'd like to be, but I'll be fine; it'll just take some time. At the moment, I'm just tired of it all."

"Go take a shower, sweetie; San and I will take care of the rest." Wooyoung says as he gets up from the floor and pulls the leather jacket off of his shoulders. The wide collar of his black t-shirt shows the tattoo on his back. You always found that part of him extremely sexy.

You rise from your chair, grimacing at the pain in your legs after so many hours in high heels. Your top falls to the floor as you take it off, the lace of your black lingerie clinging to your body like a second skin. They've seen you naked more than once or twice, and in any case, you're not one of those cute girls who blushes at every opportunity. You have to struggle to pull your jeans down your legs because they are so tight around your arse. The next thing to come off is your underwear, which you leaves halfway to the toilet somewhere. You let them take care of that too.

The level of intimacy that you have with San and Wooyoung is so high that it virtually erases any barrier to acceptable standards of friendship. Years of shared memories, from when you started high school to when you practically star graduates of Seoul National University. God, the things you've done and the situations you've been in—it's been a hectic time. The three of you literally know each other to your bones—sharing habits, feelings, clothes, and even some sexual practices under the influence of alcohol and chance. You've seen them fuck; they've held your hair when you've puked, helped with periods, you've seen them jerking off in the morning or heard them moaning loudly in the bathroom, you all watched porn together—it's all been part of your friendship. In a way, the three of you have been completely and utterly shameless.

You close the bathroom door and stare wearily at your reflection in the large mirror. Your hair is disheveled from those beautiful waves there's not a trace, your skin is glistening with sweat, your make-up looks messy—a bit of smudged eyeliner, smeared lipstick—and in general, you look like you've been beaten up. The pupils of your eyes are dilated, even though you're still feeling sleepy, and there's a bit of puffiness under your eyes from previous tantrum.

Wow, you look like a real mess. You turn away from the mirror, turn on the tap of water, and sink back into your usual daily routine. The water cleanses not only your body but also your mind, spectacularly washing away all the memories and regrets of the day.

It seems to be at least a minute before you hear the sound of a heavy knock on the door. San's voice is muffled over the sound of water and steam, rough, husky, and incredibly sexy, sending electric shocks through your body and unexpected heat building between your thighs. Your fingers turn the handle, stopping the water from flowing, and you take a few long breaths, trying to get rid of this strange feeling. What's wrong with you today?

"Chagi, are you okay?"

You mooed in response, stepped out of the shower, and wrapped the towel around your body before opening the door to face him. He's standing across the bathtub, slumped against the wall, so soft and fluffy, when you open the door. San has changed into a pair of loose pajamas, which are very cute, according to your taste. He has washed off his make-up and generally looks more like an adorable bun than the voluptuous demon he is supposed to be at the university.

"What the hell took you so long? Wooyoung's already starting to climb the wall from here." He whimpers with a pucker on his lips.

"I needed some time to myself, Sanni."

He bites his bottom lip before nodding. His burning gaze travels over you from head to toe, lingering a little longer than usual on your thighs and breasts, and your body heats up at the sensation. When your eyes meet, there is an emotion that you are unfamiliar with that hovers just above the surface of his gleaming dark irises. Something predatory flashes across his face, just for a second, but it's enough to make your skin tingle with an unknown sense of anticipation.

"Just a few more minutes, and then I'll be on my way, all right? Tell Wooyoung to be a little more patient."

"Alright."

You step back into the tub, close the door behind you, and press your back against the wall. You bite your lips, trying to hold back a groan of disappointment. It's not that after all these years of friendship you've never felt sexually aroused in their presence; after all, Wooyoung and San were so damn attractive and even flirtatious to the point of insanity, they fit the cliché of lusty, popular boys at university so well.

Perhaps you had once or twice wondered what it would be like to be close to one of them, or even better, both of them—what their bodies would feel like and what their tastes would be like. Yet, consciously ignoring any romantic urges in their direction, you buried those thoughts deep in the back of your mind. You didn't want to think about how beautiful San's smile was, with those sweet dimples, or how your skin burned under Woo's playful, incessant kisses. But those were only fragmentary thoughts, a dangerous feeling creeping into your heart.

For a while your hunger for them was satisfied by a succession of boy toys until you found yourself a steady boyfriend, well until you caught him with one of your girlfriends tonight. Either way, the sex was hardly satisfying enough to get too upset about, but still, the ache in your heart and your bottom-punched self-esteem stung like a bitch.

But today there was something different between the three of you; on a day like any other, there was a different feeling. It wasn't anything special; San's tearful face had been tucked between your breasts more than once or twice after another romantic fiasco, and Wooyoung had been a complete fool in love, getting burned so many times because he wore his heart on his sleeve. You have been friends long enough to know how to comfort each other after breaking up. You have never experienced such a tension between the three of you before.

There was a barely perceptible change in the air; there was an electric tension in the chemistry between you; a crackle in the air like a thunderstorm was about to break. The storm was coming at a furious pace, and you weren't sure if you were going to be able to handle it. To end up between them was like voluntarily stepping into a hurricane rated at twelve. Was that what you wanted? You probably did. Did they want it? There was no way of knowing. Would things have changed if you'd fucked, yes, of course, but would you have had a 'happily ever after', you weren't so sure.

You brush your hair with your fingertips, hissing in pain when you can't untangle the tangled locks, and continue this compulsive action as you step out of the suddenly claustrophobic space of the bathroom. The corridor is cold, and the change in temperature causes goose bumps to run down the length of your skin. Cold air climbs under the towel's edges, clinging uncomfortably to your tender inner thighs.

"I left some fresh clothes for you on the dresser next to the bathtub. Didn't you notice?" San asks. His pronunciation is as simple as if he hadn't been the one who just a few minutes ago ate you alive with his eyes. He is sitting on the arm of the chair Wooyoung is comfortably ensconced in, mindlessly scrolling through social media.

The couch, which was once your favorite place to be, is clearly in disuse. You're already anticipating Hongjoong's endless complaints about it. That couch was the love of his life.

Wooyoung has changed his clothes too; there's no trace of the seductive college hottie left; the stretchy top of the oversized shirt slipping off his shoulders to expose his collarbones made him look so tiny and cuddly; and the soft disheveled hair falling over his face gave his features something adorably puppyish. They both looked homely and terribly comfortable, as if this was legitimately their home and not yours, as if their place had always been here, the space they belonged to.

"It's stuffy. I don't want to get dressed." You reply, pulling the towel tighter around your chest. You actually contradict yourself by wrapping your arms around yourself, but you don't want to explain anything to them either.

"Personally, I like it all; you can keep going, baby."

"Of course you like it, Woo; we all know about your love for exhibitionism." You say this nonchalantly and let your body fall into Wooyoung's lap, not caring that you're actually naked under the towel or that his shirt is getting wet as the water from your wet hair drips onto it. You're trapped between their bodies again, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't like the feeling. You savor his scent and the feel of his smooth skin as your face sinks into the curve of Woo's neck.

You all sink into a nice, relaxing silence as the boys scroll through endless social media feeds, your eyes grow heavier, and the need for sleep becomes more palpable. But you love it so much—just being around them, not thinking about anything else, feeling the way San's fingers play with your hair while you twirl the rings on Woo's fingers—that you probably have a fetish for his hands. Anyway, you don't mind.

Minutes go by like this, slowly approaching an hour. You feel content and warm as you sit on Wooyoung's gorgeous muscular thighs. He is humming something to himself, drawing scattered patterns with his fingertips on your bare thigh. Your lips press against Woo's neck, leaving a sweet kiss on his skin. He squirms beneath you, his fingers clenching tighter and tighter on your thigh. God, he's so hot.

"You're so needy, kitten," San says with laughter before you feel his lips on your shoulder. It's not a chaste, friendly kiss; no, his lips are wet with saliva, open so you can feel the scorching breath and his tongue tip gliding across your skin in slow motion. San is licking you like a cat, damn it.

"Is this a side effect of the break-up or something like that? Look at you, Peach. You're a horny mess." Wooyoung raises an eyebrow in curiosity and pulls you closer to his chest. You slide down his thighs, and the towel scratches a little higher, a little more, and they can easily see your pussy. At that thought, the familiar throbbing between your legs reminds you just how wet you are, the viscous, clear liquid threatening to run down the inside of your thighs and stain Woo's clothes.

Praying that neither of them will notice how flushed and horny you feel at this moment, you squeeze your legs together and slide your hand down to pull the towel further down your legs, as far down as possible in this position.

You're so thirsty; the lust is bubbling just beneath the surface of your skin, and the heady mix of their scent and the residual alcohol in your blood is making you feel like such a needy slut.

The rational part of your brain tells you that you should be in a completely different state right now—a mess of tears and snot, probably on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown. Somewhere between the self-destruction of your own self-esteem and a crisis of identity, But here you are, practically naked in Woo's arms, with an obscenely wet pussy and no shame whatsoever.

In contrast to the'real' half of you, something small and evil urged you to go further, to spread your legs, to expose yourself shamelessly, to ride Wu's thigh and have a hot rodeo until you couldn't cum any more, and then let San use you however he wanted; you don't mind at all being a chew toy for him. Hell, boy, all you want to do is let him fuck your brains out.

You sink your teeth into your lower lip with force; the taste of blood is almost in your mouth.

"Fuck me. I want to sleep, baby. You can use me. Let's go to bed."You whine, puffing up your cheeks.

"Okay, okay, baby, let's put the princess to bed." San lifts you from your place on Woo's lap and pulls you tightly against his chest, and you can clearly feel every ripple of muscle on that perfect body. When did he have time to get that big?

He carries you into the bedroom like a princess. Wooyoung's shuffling footsteps can be heard behind you, and you throw your head back to meet his gaze.

"We had a change of sheets. Personally, I'm in favor of burning all his stuff."

"Have I told you I love you?"

"Mmm, let me think. Maybe just a few thousand times." He gives you a cheeky smile, and you laugh.

"Love, love, love, love, I love you so much. You're the best boys in the world. You sing with a big smile on your face, and the sound of their laughter fills the bedroom.

"We love you too; we love you so much."

If you weren't so drunk and tired, your brain might have been able to process Wooyoung's changed intonation, but you completely ignored any possible hint of how they felt about you.

San gently laid you down on the bed, and Woo's lithe body crawled beside you, snuggling against your side, hugging you like his personal teddy bear.

"Woo, let her go; she has to put on some clothes." He pulls off his T-shirt and holds the soft fabric out in front of you. Your hands lazily crumple it up in an attempt to decide whether or not to put it on, but the boys decide for you.

Wooyoung sits you down and holds you tightly by the waist while San pulls the T-shirt over your head and pulls off the towel at the same time. You are still naked, but you are a bit more decent now.

"You're such good friends. I wish I could date someone like you." You lie back down, and Woo's hands paddle you again, as if it's his natural reflex. You're not aware of the exchange of glances between the two of them. The silent conversation that goes on between them is completely ignored.

"Hmm, someone like us?" San sits down on the bed in front of you, and in an instant, your fingers cling to his naked chest. You want so badly to sink your teeth into the smooth, bulging muscles of his chest. "Baby, aren't you afraid we're going to be jealous?"

"You and jealousy, come on. I went out with Suho, and none of you minded."

"It's because the idiot has a tiny dick." With an evil giggle, Woo whispers in your ear.

"Wooyoung!"

"He's right, chagia. When was the last time you had an orgasm?"

"San, not you too." You whine and give him a light tap on the shoulder.

"Well, if you were with someone like us, you'd know what it means to have a good fuck. We'd fuck your brains out, baby."

"Jung Wooyoung, wash your filthy mouth. San, tell him." You call out to your more rational friend in a resentful tone to calm Woo down.

"Well, I can't say that he's wrong. You won't be on foot for days after we are." The grin on San's face is so predatory that you can't tell that it's your sweet himbo friend. It's making the muscles at the bottom of your stomach clench in anticipation of this promise.

"You do know that I used to sleep with Yunho before I started dating Suho, right? You can hardly come as a surprise to me; he's very good."

"We know." Woo hissed in annoyance, and his arms tightened around you, planting his foot on your thigh and completely cutting off any attempt you might have made to pull away from him, even if you wanted to.

"But we're so much better." A hot palm slides just over your waist near to Wooyoung's hand, practically covering your breasts. You feel the full weight of it on your body.

"In your dreams."

For a few moments, you close your eyes and fall silent. The comforting silence lulls you to sleep, but there is one thought that keeps you from falling completely into a deep slumber. With a groan, you come back to reality, blinking slowly as your brain forms the words that seem to be too heavy on the tip of your tongue—heavy, but so damned sweet.

"I wanna… I mean, let's have threesome."

"Sorry, what!" Wooyoung almost yells, sitting up in bed in an instant and staring at you with his eyes wide open. If the situation wasn't so serious, you could laugh at his shocked expression. "Is it an offer for sex? Right now?"

"Jesus, Wooyoung, just let me finish." You sit down as well and take each one of them by the hand. "We graduate next year, and if… if we are all free and you don't mind, maybe we can have threesomes."

"I'm ready. Why wait?" Woo clings to you like a leech. He presses every inch of his body against you so tightly that you practically melt into each other. His skin is hot, and you can feel his breath brushing against your ear and his lips touching it as he speaks. "Come, Y/N, we can do this now. I'm going to take you to heaven."

"Wooyoung, I'm serious."

You have to look at San, who's been silent the whole time. The look in his eyes is so dark, full of lust and hunger. It doesn't leave you for a second.

"San…"

"I'll do anything for you, Y/N."

"I'll be ready for you in a year if you're still willing. Now get out of the room, the both of you. Tonight I'll be alone in bed."

You push them off the bed, San rolls over on the floor with a clatter, and Wooyoung jumps up like a man who has been scalded.

"But chagi…" He whines, loud and nasty, as San drags him out of the room.

"Sweet dreams, gongjunim." That's the last thing you hear before the door slams shut behind them and you're left alone in the bedroom.

You can hear their muffled voices coming from the hallway, trying so hard to keep quiet. Wooyoung's incessant complaining, mixed with San's low muttering, effectively lulls you to sleep. You probably won't even remember tonight, let alone this stupid proposal, but little do you know that neither San nor Wooyoung have any intention of letting you forget.

You are going to have a very funny year in front of you.

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norrisleclercf1 · 1 year

Text

It’s Too Early

Pairing: Charles x Pregnant!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Tough pregnancy, premature birth, PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome), IVF mentioned, angst, fluff at the end

Synopsis: Being pregnant hasn’t been easy, especially when Charles is away for the season and can’t be with you 24/7 like he wants to be. So what happens when he finds out you went into labor from a reporter? Chaos, utter chaos

A/N: Wrote this morning and I picked PCOS because that's something I suffer with all the time, and felt the need to write a fic about now, everyone's experience with PCOS and the topics discussed in this are different, I did research and put my own hardships and feelings in this, I hope everyone reads with an open mind and enjoys this but also Dad!Charles who could give up Dad!Charles

Charles would kill for you; he really would. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to kill the FIA, who would refuse to let him sit out this season to be with you, his pregnant wife.

Finding out you were pregnant was the happiest day of his life, but soon it turned...not a nightmare, but a living hell. You were classified as a high-risk pregnancy due to polycystic ovarian syndrome, something you let Charles know when you first started dating.

He was there through the painful periods, the cramps that left you defenseless and laying in bed all day, to the doctor visits and the mood swings. Through it all, he was still with you and loved you more and more each day.

When you both married and settled down a bit more, the conversation of becoming pregnant came up. Charles knew the risks and had done research before bringing it up with you; he even explored other ways of having children. But you told him you wanted to try naturally and go from there before discussing different ways and seeing what happens.

After 3 years of trying and doing everything, even trying IVF, that damn stick showed that fucking plus sign. You sat in the bathroom for hours just staring at the positive test, and that's precisely how Charles found you when he came home. On the bathroom floor, staring at the test.

He can still feel the tile on his skin as he hugs and kisses you, calming your fears away from the worst thoughts in your head.

It hasn't been an easy pregnancy, from cramps to horrible morning sickness, to the doctors worried you might give birth way too early, even being put on bedrest for the rest of the pregnancy due to worries of preeclampsia. Charles fought hard with the FIA, saying he needed to be with you, but they refused to listen and told him he needed to race. You talked him off the ledge as he called to quit and stay home.

"Charles stop; this is ridiculous. You love racing; you aren't quitting because of me." You groaned, going in circles with your mess of a husband.

"No! What's ridiculous is that the FIA won't even see why my wife has a high-risk pregnancy and that I'm needed home, not driving in goddamn circles!" He snaps, slamming his phone down and pulling his hair.

"Char, breath." You whisper from the bed, in agony, simply because you can't get up and comfort your husband.

Charles, almost sensing your dilemma moves from the end of the bed to laying down next to you, placing his head on your chest, careful of your swollen breasts, knowing how much they've been hurting lately. No words are said as fingers run through his hair to calm him down and stop him from making a huge mistake.

"Charles, I'll have your mother here with me. Me and the baby are going to be okay. Listen, if anything changes, I will call you immediately. You can't miss this; you have a real chance this year and must show the world that Charles Leclerc will be a World Champion." Your words convince him as he lets off that familiar defeated sigh of his, making your smile grow at this.

"Immediately. Do you understand? I don't care if it's stupid like your back itches you call me." He bargains, making you laugh and nod in agreement.

Pascale has been staying with you for only a month, and you finally reached the safe zone, where if you did go into labor, it wouldn't be so dangerous for you or the baby. It was race day, and Charles was in Silverstone, needing to finish P2 or higher to challenge Max for the title.

It was a typical day as Pascale fixed you a light snack as you weren't feeling well, your lower back was hurting, and it felt like your pelvis had its own heartbeat. You didn't think much of it as it was a hot day in Monte Carlo, and you had read in books that it was customary to feel this, so you didn't say anything to Pascale to not worry her. The race was halfway through when the first real cramp startled you to the point you dropped your cup; thankfully, it was rubber, so it didn't break.

"Y/n? Honey, what's wrong?" Pascale was right there in an instant picking up the cup, looking over you.

"Just...a cramp, it's nothing." You mummer rubbing your stomach but flinch from how much it hurts to touch it.

"Y/n, when did this start?" Pascale asks calmly, knowing it was wise to keep you calm and not start to freak out because you might be in early labor.

"Last night, but it's picked up this morning. It's nothing, Pascale, honestly, just the baby moving." You try to reason, not wanting to jump straight to labor.

"Y/n, I'm calling for an ambulance, okay? I think you might be in early labor, and with you being on bed rest, they need to help me, alright." She mummers pushing your hair back, trying everything to keep you calm.

"Okay, okay." You repeat as the cramp passes, and you hear her on the phone telling them everything as you force yourself to pay attention to the race and not to the growing pit in your stomach that you might be in labor.

They get here fast as you breathe through another cramp. Tears start to flutter down your cheeks, the realization of you possibly in labor while Charles isn't here, but in the UK. They ask you question after question and share a look, a look that sets you off.

"No! No! I'm not in labor, okay? I'm just having some cramps, which is normal; I have PCOS; okay, nope, I'm not." You argue as the medics alert the hospital to your condition.

"Mrs. Leclerc, I understand that you are only 29 weeks and you're scared, but right now, you are in early labor, and we need to get you to the hospital as soon as we can, okay?" The friendly medic tries to reason with you, but you refuse to see reason.

"I'm sorry, but no. Charles isn't here; he should be here; I can't do this alone. I'm sorry, but I'm not going anywhere." You argue as Pascale packs your bags and looks over at you.

"Y/n, I know you are scared, but Charles isn't here right now, but he will be okay. I'll call him when the race is over and let him know immediately what's going on. But, please, if you wait, it'll be worse for you and the baby." She can reason with you, finally getting you to the hospital as you try hard to stay calm and not make things worse.

But of course, Pascale could never make the phone call as everyone was too busy keeping you calm.

Charles was on top of the world. He had won Silverstone and was only 4 points behind Max now. Sticky with champagne, he checks his phone, looking for the standard text from you, but not seeing a text from you, he hits dial, calling you. But, you don't pick up, making him call you again, yet again, you don't pick up.

He reasons you must be asleep, knowing you had been super tired lately, and his mother said everything was fine. You're eating normally and just sleeping or reading. He moves and takes a picture of the trophy, telling you he won it for you and the baby and he couldn't wait to get back home to you both. Sadly, he's pulled away from his phone to go do media even though he wants to head to the airport and go home, but he needs to do this first.

Only 4 more hours before heading to the plane, then another 5 to 6 hours before he's back home to you.

He makes it through all 5 interviews before coming to the last one, Pierre on his right and Carlos on his left as they all give their final interviews.

"Charles, amazing race. I have to say that it was fabulous to see you win this and to have your teammate and your childhood best friend up there. It must've been something." The reporter gushes, making Charles smile at how genuine the reporter is.

"Yes, um, having Carlos and Pierre be there next to me was something. I mean, the Red Bulls put up one hell of a fight, but we know not to get too comfortable and that we really need to start pushing it more and more each day so we can close the gap and pull in front of them." Charles smiles.

"Yes, this must be a wonderful day with you; with what winning Silverstone and your wife going into labor, you must be just on top of the world." Charles freezes, hearing the words come out of the reporter's mouth and let's put a nervous laugh.

"I'm sorry? My wife isn't in labor," he argues, starting to fidget and lick his lips.

''Really? Reports are that she went into labor at the start of lap 23 and has been at the hospital, your mother." Having cut the camera, realizing that Charles honestly had no idea.

"Nope, she's not, okay, she's not in labor. She would've called." he snaps, hands fumbling for his phone, trying to call you again. This time, it goes to voicemail, sending his heart plummeting to his feet.

"Alright, that's enough for today." Pierre voices and grabs Charles leading him away from prying eyes as he keeps calling you repeatedly.

"Charles. Charles, stop!" Pierre yells, snatching the phone away as his friend cries. Fear takes over Charles as he starts to imagine the worst. What if something was seriously wrong, and you went into early labor. You're only 29 weeks. That's 6 months. Yes, the baby would be okay, but would you?

"Come on, let's go to the hotel. Get your stuff, and you and I will fly out and call your mom. Okay, let's go." Pierre reasons, dragging his friend away and to the cars trying to calm down Charles.

'Pierre calls Pascale and puts her on the speaker; thankfully, the woman picks up after 3 rings.

"Why the fuck didn't you call me the moment she went into labor? I wouldn't give a damn if I was still in the car. Why didn't you call!" Charles rips out before Pascale can say anything, and Pierre groans, knowing that if the situation was different, the Ferrari driver's mother would bury his ass in the ground.

"Because Charles, I've been trying to keep her calm. She's freaking out because you're not here, and honestly, honey, I forgot, as I was trying to make sure your wife's blood pressure doesn't get worse; now, get here as fast as you can because she's almost fully dilated and she needs you Charles, and she needs you to be calm and strong for her because right now she's not." Pascale hangs up, leaving the car in a stiff eerie silence.

"Get me to the airport as fast as you can," Charles whispers, making Pierre nod to ensure he'd get there.

"I can't do this, Pascale; nope, I'm sorry, but I can't. It hurts too much, please, make it stop." you cry as your mother-in-law soothes you. She tells you Charles is on the way. But that did nothing to comfort you. It only made you more anxious about the fact that this would happen.

"Y/n, I know you're scared but Charles will be here soon, okay? But you can't stop pushing, okay? All these nurses and doctors are here to help you, ow let them." She urges as you scream out from another contraction.

"I want Charles." You sob, collapsing against the bed from exhaustion. This was too much for you, the pain, Charles, and everyone in the room; you can't do this.

"Baby!" A familiar voice cries out as the door swings open, and Charles runs in. His hair is messy, and he looks so bewildered you could kiss him, but all you can do is scream.

"WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!" Making Pascale and everyone else jump, Charles just smiles and pushes everyone out of the way to get to your side.

"I'm sorry, I was on a plane, and my phone wasn't working." And lies, not wanting to tell the truth of no one telling him but a reporter that you were in labor.

"You're lucky I'm giving birth right now or so; help me go-" Your words get cut off by another contraction, making you grab Charles's hand and squeeze it so hard he'd thought it'd break.

"Okay, Mrs. Leclerc, we need you to push." the doctor instructs while Pascale slips outside, startled to see half the grid in the hallway.

"Come on, let's give them some privacy." Pascale smiles, wrapping an arm around Pierre as she leads the boys down the hallway.

"I love you," Charles whispers, kissing your forehead, not caring for a minute you are drenched in sweat.

"I love you too, but we're adopting or surrogacy next time." You cry as you get one more contraction, everyone yelling at you to push, and soon your cries are mixed in with smaller ones.

"He's here. He's here." Charles repeats, kissing you all over and making sure you are okay. He wanted to check on his baby, but first, he needed to ensure you were alright.

"It's a boy? We had a little boy." You whimper, leaning into Charles's chest as you cry in relief that everything went as smoothly as possible.

"He's perfect, Y/n, all ten toes and fingers, and god, I love you so much." Charles mummers finally kissing you while the nurse cleans up your son.

"Here you go." the nurse smiles, handing you your son, who cries his little lungs out but soon stops when he's placed on your chest.

"He'll need to go to NICU for just a night so we can go over everything and make sure there are no complications, but after that, he can come down here and stay with you, Momma." the nurse smiles, going back to help make sure your vitals and everything else was good.

'Charles, and you can't help but stare at your little boy while you start to feel that ache and tiredness settle in, but Charles holds you both, his entire world in his arms.

"We need a name," Charles whispers, making you hum in agreement.

"I've got the perfect one. Also, tell Pierre I say thank you for getting you here."

Charles blinks down at you, confused, but you just giggle.

"I can smell his cologne." Making Charles laugh right along with you.

You fell asleep after picking the name, and the nurses follow Charles to the waiting room where everyone is, Pascale the first to see her son.

"Everyone," Charles starts making the others turn their heads, Isa and Carmen gushing at the tiny little baby in Charles's arms.

"Meet Pierre Hervé Jules Leclerc." Charles announces, making everyone laugh as Pierre stands there stunned, looking at his best friend holding his son.

"Really?" Pierre asks, making Charles nod. "Of course, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have gotten here in one piece. Also, Y/n says thank you." Charles smiles but adds, "she could smell your cologne on my clothes." Making everyone laugh at this.

"Can I hold him?" Pascale asks, but Charles shakes his head no.

"Sorry, but he won't be held by anyone but us and the staff for right now; he's got to go to the NICU overnight, and frankly, I want Y/n to get a say who holds him first after us, Mother." Charles smiles, but Pascale just beams, seeing Charles transform before her.

"Say goodbye to all your uncles and aunts, Pierre," Charles whispers, laying him in the trolly as the nurse reassures him that he'll be fine and he can come up and visit if he'd like.

Everyone watches as the Ferrari driver just smiles at his boy and leans down, whispering something to the baby before pulling away and watching the nurses take him a floor up.

"What did you say?" Pierre asks his friend.

"We'd always love and protect him, and he's only allowed to root for Ferrari." He laughs, making Pascale slap her son on the arm, everyone joining in on the laughter, a memory no one would forget.

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mrs-weasley-reid · 16 days

Note

Hi , can you do one fic where Spencer and the reader who has to go under cover as a stripper and Spencer gets jealous when she gives the unsub a lap dance. Sorry if it's too much trouble

Purple Silk and Laces

Spencer Reid x bau!reader

Warning: NOT SMUT (sorry to disappoint) sexual innuendos so we cool, I guess, but still MDNI!!! lap dance (duh) on the UnSub. curses. a pinch of mental feminine rage honestly lol. jealous!spencer (double duh). tell me if I missed anything because I didn't proofread! A/N: part of me had a cardiac arrest and died writing this because sflkjnwjkfbwrijgbf got me giggling and shit. I imagined season 7 Spencer. Anyway, I'm not sure if I depicted what anon imagined, but tell me your thoughts!

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

A flimsy curtain slides to reveal such a sight Spencer never dared imagine, not so much as letting it form in his head—not during work hours anyway.

Pink blush burst all over the skin on his face, neck, and ears. Very much thankful for the distance he's established, or so help his impulse—he just might jump and take you then and there.

Dainty fingers fasten the purple silk belt just above your waist, and the urge to replace your hands with his creates a fuzzy clot in his throat. Twenty-thousand words per minute turn into the shape of you. Each micromovement plucks in his line of sight. You're a prey, and he's a mighty lion—hungry and close to going berserk.

You have always been a beauty. A sight to behold. No doubt about that. In Spencer's mind, you're much more of a goddess than anything he's ever believed in. Something so out of reach yet accessible for him.

But at that moment, in the dressing room, in front of half of the BAU team, you're a lewd image killing him softly with the sake of public decency.

Spencer gulps the imaginary hairball that obstructs the breath from escaping his throat, clenching his fist to contain the blood rushing through his veins. He can't possibly let himself slip and ruin everything over his failure to keep his dick off his shoulders. Much less do something stupid in front of his team and, most importantly, in front of you.

He blinks and crashes down back to earth at the sound of Derek's playful, raunchy whistle. He glares at the hunky agent, gritting his teeth with silent indignance.

"Not trying to be rude, but," Derek starts as his eyes trail from your head to toe, "What's a guy like me got to do to get a chance with a lady like you?" His brows bounce on his forehead. A flirty smirk danced over his face.

With a cheeky smile and a hand reaching for his chin, you lean close to him—somehow both galvanizing and obscene in Spencer's point of view, neither a good feeling— "Kill me." Your lips drop upside down, shoving his face with your palm.

Derek recoils from the force of your hand. The fact that you are a federal agent trained to obliterate murderers comes back into his knowledge. "Least you got the role to a T—" He raises his hands defensively while he shuts his mouth under your dagger glare. He knows better than to try and get another rise out of you when you're already grumpy enough.

Emily coughs a laugh at the interaction as she helps you plug an earpiece inside your ear and tries her best not to cop a feel while she does her best to set up a small microphone between your left breast and an awful excuse of a bra.

Going undercover is nothing new to a seasoned profiler like you. Granted, you're second to the youngest member of the team next to Spencer, but you have your fair share of gut-wrenching trauma. This case is nothing compared to any of them.

Still, you wish it consisted of far more clothing than the patches of laces that barely covered the pout of your nipples and sheathed the crack of your ass. The silky 'robe' the ladies at the establishment called feels more like a slap of cheap toilet paper covering the little dignity you have left.

You make a pact that the UnSub better be down on his knees while you cuff his dirty ass. It certainly sparks your skin with rage, contrary to the blasting AC in the dressing room.

"We'll be on high alert. Remember, you don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with." Hotch counsels by the door, standing like an ashamed tree stuck on the floor. He's got a guilty look on his face, and he's been keeping himself from glancing past below your neck.

You won't hold it against him, or Derek—or Spencer in the corner of the room as if you haven't noticed the way his face looks like he's been slapped into oblivion. Anyone who's got a cock (and even a cunt) wouldn't manage the sight of a woman closer to naked than clothed. If Emily was in your position, you don't doubt you'd be jaw-dropped, too.

A grimace adorns your lips, "I'm wearing the littlest lingerie I've ever seen in my entire life, Hotch. I think I'm way past feeling comfortable, don't you think?" You slump on the couch, slipping on the pair of terrifying heels one of the strippers lent you.

"Most likely, the UnSub is impotent, so he might ask you for more than a show and pay you for a lap dance..." The words die in Spencer's throat as your eyes catch his. He hates how the mere look from you makes him twitch on his seat, and he's roughly fifteen feet away—he thinks.

You trace your brows with your thumb and index finger, sighing. After a few moments of questioning the complexity of the case and your situation, you sigh again, louder this time.

"A lap dance wouldn't hurt. I mean, what could go wrong?" Everything. A wry laugh echoes past your lips. It's decided. This case is on top of the worst ones you encountered yet.

Spencer looks away in hopes that no one has noticed him gawking. He really shouldn't be feeling hot and heavy when you're about to show skin in front of a man who's killed five women in six days. Now's not the time.

Derek chuckles, though the undertone of worry and guilt hits the high pitch in your attentive ears. "If only the UnSub preferred abs, I would have taken your place." He's trying to lift up your mood, and you're grateful for it.

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

The club lights blind you.

You trace your frame at the beat of the music, taking in the rhythm while keeping your eyes sharp with every move.

Five men already threw their savings at you, whistling and shouting crude comments about your body. You mentally salute all the women who take the job by choice—or circumstances. Because all you wanted to do was hurl your stomach out and shoot each one of those men, execution style.

Like a bright spotlight, your eyes land on one guy at the bar. Spencer. His jaw is tense, and his hold chokes the glass of Shirley Temple in his hand as he watches you with fixed eyes.

A surge of electricity flushes you with goosebumps like the time you stupidly accidentally poked your finger in your car's power outlet while driving. You've never felt so exposed to the way he's staring at you. With a thick gulp, you shift your eyes away from him.

Then, your line of sight falls on a suspicious figure, two drunk perverts away from the stage. You hook your leg and spin around the pole like you've been practicing the trick your entire life.

"My twelve o'clock, blue shirt," You state with your back behind the audience. You ignore the fact that everyone's got a nice view of your ass right now.

Hotch's voice echoes in your ear, "Alright, one of the ladies will replace you in one—"

Kiara, a sweet lady, taps your shoulder with a dramatic show. She runs her hand down your stomach, and the animalistic crowd goes rabidly wild.

"Be careful, please," She reminds you before she shoves you off the stage to steal the show.

In an instant, the man you suspect waits next to the stairs. You aren't sure when he started heading towards you, but he fits the profile like a glove.

He's definitely attractive. Not Spencer Reid attractive, but enough to understand why the victims fell for his charms. You feel giddy at the thought of the doctor but force yourself to focus on the task at hand.

"You danced so well," You fight all your senses from decking the dirty smile off his face and give him a sultry one of your own.

Pressing your body onto his, you play with his collar, "I can give you a better view for a good price." He nods, placing a callused hand on the soft of your back.

Just like the plan, you lead the UnSub to one of the arc leather seats, sitting him down by his thighs as you provocatively fall on your knees, then standing back up with your back resembling a bow.

Crescent temporary scars sting Spencer's palm. The sight is like a sucker punch for him. Your hips swaying, grinding on someone that's not him. The UnSub's hands tracing your figure.

He feels livid. Dizzy of murderous thoughts that an FBI agent should not have. But he does and can't wait to get the green light from Hotch.

Despite the sick feeling in your gut, you did your best to see the task through, making filthy conversation with the UnSub like it's a walk in the park.

"So, any man in your life?"

There it is.

A narcissistic, pitiful man cheated by his lover due to his impotence.

You hide a smirk. "Will you give me a hefty tip if I say yes?" He stays silent, so you flash a mischievous smile before turning back around to grind on his nonexistent bulge. Not like it changes the fact that you're grinding on a killer, but it gives you a tinge of relief.

"He's better off sleeping at night not knowing, and—" In the midst of the flashing lights and heavy crowd, your eyes meet Spencer's. A tickle flutters in your stomach. "It's not like he's any good of use. The guy can't get it up to save his life, which reminds me..." You turn back to face the UnSub, staring at the area of his crotch with an odious giggle, "Does your friend need a little help?'

The UnSub yanks your wrist—bruising. "Don't fucking laugh," He growls at you.

Bullseye.

Strike a nerve.

"Oh, please, don't blame me for your silly problem," You roll your eyes, getting a rise out of him. You hear Hotch instructing you to back away as the team slowly moves in, but you just can't let the anger and disgust go. "Just when I thought I got a hot one—"

Cold metal kisses your skin, and you remember that state you're in. Gunless and almost naked. You mentally curse.

He pins you down on his lap, hovering close to your ear. "One wrong move and I'll fuck you up. You understand?" His breath burns your skin.

The next motions happen so fast you don't get the chance to process the way Spencer almost flew to your spot and snatched you from the UnSub like you're a prize possession in his name.

Guns drawn.

UnSub cuffed.

Blood drools.

Your orientation momentarily comes back at the stinging feeling of disinfectant against the thin slice on your right waist. Then, suddenly, you're on your flight back to Virginia—with more coverage.

Sitting in what is supposed to be a breath of fresh air, the tension between you and Spencer is suffocating the least. He hasn't said anything to you since his random thought about the UnSub's impotence in the dressing room. You figure he's avoiding you, even.

A sigh passes your lips.

You and Spencer have been dating for a while now. It's not on the surface, and surprisingly, despite working with a herd of profilers, no one has sniffed you out yet.

The relationship is very new. A lot of things to figure out between the nature of your relationship, but never has he ignored you the way he's doing right now.

And when you twist the knob open to his apartment, Spencer's not waiting by the door like usual, rummaging through his shelves for a book to read.

You cross your arms against your chest, "Alright, Spence. What is wrong?"

"What do you mean?" He doesn't even look at you, making a show of tracing each book's spine as if he hasn't read them more than five times.

"Really? You're gonna do that to me, Spencer?"

"Do what?"

"You know what? Whatever. I'm too tired for this." When he doesn't say anything, you grab your purse and start heading for the door.

"Yeah, maybe you can lap dance your way back home."

A pause.

Blinking at his image, "What?" Your eyes widen—one of them twitching with fury.

It's not like Spencer to say such a stupid thing. You've had arguments, but he's never acted so stubbornly.

"You've got two seconds to convince me that I heard you wrong, or so help me—"

"Or what? Find another guy to flirt with? Call Morgan?" Spencer holds his fists with tight grips, gazing at you with a shot of insecurity you have never seen him express.

Oh.

The fury dissipates instantly, and a different kind of fire sparks as if he's suddenly under a different light. A good one. One that electrifies your entire body into an ecstatic wave.

"You're jealous."

A statement.

Loud and clear.

Spencer furrows his brows like you'd just said something scientifically impossible. "W-What?" He stutters, and the smirk on your lips only grows.

"You"—One step—"Are"—Another step—"Jealous."

You're three steps before him now, holding eye contact. "You're jealous and with an UnSub, to say the least." You tuck your lower lip between your teeth.

"What are you talking about?" He scoffs. Your stare overwhelms his senses, but he's not backing out yet.

"But you are," You bite back a grin, entertained by the way his body stiffens the closer you get.

Spencer shakes his head, an excuse to break eye contact. "No. That's impossible. I don't get jealous." The protrusion on his throat quivers.

You raise an eyebrow, "Okay, so, you don't mind if I take Derek's invitation to hang out tonight?" You reach inside your bag, fishing out your phone. "I think if I call him now he'd still be—"

He engulfs both your hand and phone with one hand, "Don't." Spencer gulps—the third one in two minutes. He lets out a heavy sigh when you grin at him, softening his grasp. "Fine, I was—am jealous." His cheeks glow red, widening your shit-eating grin.

Spencer turns his head away from you, but you're quick to hold his chin and make him face you back, pecking his lips—a redder face before you.

"It was part of the job, Spence. Believe me, I wanted to shoot him so bad." You reason gently, yet the buzzing between your thighs makes you swallow the thick emptiness in your throat.

He lowers your hands and off his skin, running his hands over his face. "I know!" Spencer groans, turning away from the embarrassment that's beginning to eat him. "I just—I hated that the UnSub gets to experience you like that. It pisses me off!"

Spencer's rambling now, throwing statistics and facts and how it somehow correlates to you.

Although you're busy yourself, plucking each button of your shirt through each slit. And when he spins back, his mouth shuts up—still agape.

He's speechless, eyes fixed on you.

Your shirt droops on your arms, revealing the same lacey cloth latched on your breasts.

Spencer blinks rapidly, unsure whether to breathe or completely deprive his lungs of air supply, "Y-you kept it?"

"Are you still feeling jealous?"

"A l-little, yeah..." You didn't miss his quick glance below your waist to the spot you're craving him the most. And you can hear the question that's running in his head.

With a soft giggle, you audibly answer, "Yes, I kept that too."

Spencer thinks he should be jealous more often as he swoops you off your feet and brings both of you to his bedroom.

#spencer reid #ssa spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencerreid #fem!reader #criminal minds #criminalminds #cm #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you

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damazcuz · 2 years

Note

One more question(for now) why do people on tumblr use tags to talk #like this #about whatever they think of the post, instead of just commenting on the reblog😭 Is there an etiquette I'm missing?

short answer: yes.

long answer, there is an etiquette to it, and I think it's a longstanding thing that just ended up ingrained in a lot of users, which comes off as cold/shy/outlandish or maybe even standoffish to people from other sites and apps. there's no be-all end-all of how to act online or on here but i think in terms of most* people (*speaking broadly, making this up) who've used tumblr for a while it feels like this:

tumblr is a theater, the dashboard is a stage, each post is a performance. (a joke, a dramatic act, a story, a movie, a picture, etc.) you have a variety of ways to interact with the performance, but some of them are going to be more frowned upon--based purely on how the long standing visitors of the theater are used to acting, honestly.

likes are a polite applause, but they don't show anyone outside of the theater that you enjoyed yourself, or what you enjoyed. the performer appreciates the applause but does not garner any new viewers when you only like a post, btw.

silent reblogs mean you exit the theater with merch or a leaflet and go show it to other people. look what i saw on the stage, don't you want to see it too. this shows the performance to a new variety of viewers, who might then also show it to others.

replies and reblogs with content are often seen as """"rude"""" because they're like standing up at the end of the performance and loudly saying "that was okay but I think MY take on things makes it just a BIT better." people are more forgiving of this when it's something universally true or acceptable, or when it's very funny. if it's not (and even if it is, sometimes,) there'll potentially be a reblog down the line making fun of it (and this is another person in the theater standing up and making a fart noise, regardless of how tasteless or rude.) it's never actually "wrong" to add comments on a reblog unless you're being intentionally hurtful, and it's normal to add commentary to a friend's post, but even then, people seeing this from the outside may see that as obnoxious and impolite and try to call you on it anyway. (people are very weird about enforcing what they see as a universal rule of etiquette, when this is admittedly the only site where you'll be punished for adding to the discussion.)

and again, this is an absolutely arbitrary rule because what one person finds universally true and hilarious, another will find trite and stupid and too niche. the polite thing to do in the case of the latter is just reblog from further up the chain than the commenter, but people aren't always nice when they're annoyed.

getting to your actual question now, comments in the tags are a way to leave remarks that you DON'T want to shout to the whole theater. these are you whispering to yourself or your friend, or writing in a guestbook on the way out. people can see/hear it if they go looking for it, but you're not shouting over the performance to get your piece out. it's polite because it's unobstructive and doesn't take up space, and if your tags don't make sense to someone else or seem too niche, they don't have to share the post with your commentary attached.

adjacent to this, "peer review" or screenshotting someone's tags to insert them in the post is like if you did whisper to your friend, then your friend wrote your comments on a whiteboard and held it up for others to see. as this is a form of commentary within the reblog, it's again subject to an arbitrary universal/niche rule. just because a tag gets peer reviewed doesn't mean it's beyond reproach by strangers.

also in line with this general line of thought experiment, blazing a post means that between acts, you run up on the stage and start shouting your piece. it is, once again, going to be more acceptable to strangers to see you do this if it's something universally funny, true, or cute. this is why niche fandom posts, vent posts, and self promotions get ignored or booed down, while pet birthday photos and silly jokes get blazed and get a lot of notes regardless.

lastly, a kungpowpenis is when twelve+ individuals from the audience get up and beat the shit out of the person performing on stage and leave their corpse on display in the town square.

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intrepidacious · 1 year

Text

almost believing

summary: You and Bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. That doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 5.4k

warnings: miscommunication dialled up to eleven bc it's me; friends to lovers with lots of seething in between; set around christmas, but not a christmas fic; slight spoiler warning for wakanda forever just to be safe

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: fake dating, baby 😌 title and initial inspiration for this fic were taken from "so close" from enchanted. yes. that scene.

a/n: this was written for my wonderful tiff's sweet as sugar writing challenge!! @traitorjoelite i'm so proud of you and i hope you enjoy this fic. i really thought this one would be short i swear. big shoutout and thank you to @sweetascanbee for listening to me rant about this for weeks, i appreciate you so much!!

masterlist | read on ao3

Here’s the thing: It’s supposed to be a simple mission. Just gathering intel at the hotel for one single night, the two of you pretending that everything is fine for a couple of hours more.

After all, it’s Bucky’s last mission with you before his reassignment goes through.

Well, it’s not like it’s going to make a difference to how much you’re seeing him, to be honest.

You’re not sure when he started making himself rare or why, but once you noticed it, it was impossible not to.

"Sorry, I’m heading out," when you ask him to grab lunch together seems inconspicuous enough, as does, "Ah, I’m already supposed to meet Sam," when you try asking him about that trip to IKEA you’d been talking about for ages.

But it doesn’t stop there. One excuse follows the next, and suddenly there’s always something more important than the two of you hanging out.

Of course, you try to rationalize it at first. Swallow down your hurt feelings, because Bucky is your friend, and sometimes people just need space. You’re fine. The two of you are fine.

Once he starts scheduling dates for Friday night, though—which has always been movie night, always, every week since you met him—you know that something’s wrong.

"Is he angry with me?" you keep asking Steve, who looks very uncomfortable and definitely knows what's going on.

"Just give him a little space," he suggests timidly. So you do. You let the whole thing go.

For like a week.

"I just don’t know what I did," you tell Sam over drinks, your head held in your hands.

"Nope," he answers, downing his dregs. "I’m not doing this. Nuh-uh."

"You know, too?" you cry, accusingly pointing at him.

"I don’t know anything," Sam deadpans. And then he puts his scarf on and leaves.

"Maybe try talking to Bucky about it?" Natasha suggests, either incapable of hiding her amused smile or unwilling to try.

"I would if I ever saw him for longer than a 'hi, how are you' at the gym," you mumble. Fact is, you’re getting pissed about him giving you the silent treatment without even knowing what you did wrong.

Because before this, whatever this is, things were fine. Great, even. Free afternoons were spent on each other’s couches, introducing him to your favorite tv shows and letting him teach you that stupid card game he loves so damn much. You’d even been starting to imagine that there might be something …

Clearly, you were wrong.

Now, you can’t even look at him without your throat closing up. It’s like you woke up a few weeks ago and he’s become an entirely different person around you, much more like he was at the beginning of your friendship, distant and cold.

He didn’t even tell you that he’d signed up for a transfer.

The mission call feels like your last chance.

A whole evening of teamwork and espionage, of him basically having no other choice than talking to you and finally telling you why the fuck he would get himself reassigned without even telling you beforehand. You could’ve hugged Fury for the opportunity.

That is, until you’re handed the file containing your fake identities for the op a few hours before you’re supposed to leave.

"You’re joking," you say as soon as you open the door.

"Great, you’re here as well," Steve says dryly. "Again, a) you both gotta learn how to knock, b) the whole thing wasn’t my idea or my decision, but I also think it’s the best directive for what you’re trying to do, and c) no, there’s no one else available for the mission. Anything I missed?"

Bucky deliberately doesn’t meet your eye, his arms still crossed as he stares Steve down with a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t even acknowledge you standing in the door, but his foot is doing the tapping thing again.

You purse your lips and join the staring.

Steve sighs, rubbing his temples with the palms of his hands. "Listen, you two work well together and I know these past few weeks have been … strained"—you almost laugh at that—"but it’s just one night."

"We need to pretend we’re married," you say. "How’re we going to pull that off if he can’t stand being in the same room as me?"

"I trust that there won’t be any issues." Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky as he says that, but of course he doesn’t get a reply. That would necessitate talking in your presence.

"One night," Bucky repeats through gritted teeth.

Not for the first time, there seems to be some sort of silent conversation between the two of them that you’re not privy to. You roll your eyes.

"I’ll see you later."

You leave with your back straight and without a glance over your shoulder, the door slamming shut behind you.

For a moment, you’re tempted to barge into Natasha’s office next, but you have a feeling like she’d just give you another one of her looks again, which really won’t better your mood. So instead, you slam another door and flop onto your bed, blankly staring at the ceiling for a while.

Surely, there’s some twisted sort of irony in this whole situation, but you’re not laughing.

Usually, before a mission, you’d get bagels together from the bakery around the corner. You haven’t done that in a while, but you’re still quietly begging your phone to show a new unread message when you look at the time however long later.

Instead, there’s just your lockscreen picture of Bucky’s grinning face that you can’t bear to get rid off, no matter how many times it stings you. It’s almost a year old, now, back when you’d taken him to go do your holiday shopping with you, insisting that "no one’s gonna recognize you, look at that great cap you’re wearing".

It’d started snowing halfway through the afternoon, and he’d kept reaching for your hand in order not to lose you in the crowd. You both gave up halfway through your list and just went to get coffee instead, strolling through Central Park and talking about nothing and everything.

That’s when you’d realized you'd been falling in love with him, laughing and fingers freezing around your paper cup, a strange new warmth spreading throughout your body.

You need to change your lockscreen.

***

Half an hour before pick-up, you leave your room with a duffle bag slung over your shoulder and almost run into Bucky. He’s leaning against the opposite wall like he’s been waiting for you, and it stings because that’s what he always used to do, back when you were still talking. When you could still pretend that maybe, just maybe, your feelings weren’t quite so hopeless.

Now, though, his easy smile is missing. Instead, an ever-present frown is furrowing his brows again, his mouth opened just a little, but nothing comes out.

"Look, I don’t want to do this any more than you do," you sigh. "But it’s a two-person job."

He nods, his tongue poking his cheek. "I know."

"Do you think you’re gonna be alright with us pretending we’re madly in love for a whole evening?"

Bucky’s jaw tightens. "I’ll be fine."

Of course he’s going to be fine.

You grab the strap of your bag more tightly. "I wish you would just tell me what I did."

"You didn’t do anything." If he’s telling the truth, though, why does he look so numb?

For a moment, you want to shout at him, cry, beg, make him tell you when and how this went wrong, but you don’t. You just stare at him in silence, hoping he’ll get it anyway, and he refuses to notice it.

"So," Bucky finally says. "You ready to get hitched?"

There’s the ghost of a grin in his eyes, and even though it’s not enough to mask the uncomfortable tilt of his shoulders, you sigh. At least he’s trying, you suppose.

"Let’s just get fake-married so we can fake-divorce and go our separate ways," you say, walking past him.

"I’ve got something for you."

You turn around again, raising your eyebrows as he holds up a ring between the fingers of his left hand. There’s a giant stone set in its center, striking and sparkling and not subtle in the slightest. Tony really went all out for appearance’s sake. Your fingers involuntarily tighten around the strap of your bag.

Bucky drops the ring in the palm of your hand.

"Quite the present," you chuckle nervously. You don’t even want to know how much this thing costs, and you feel like they're going to chop off your head if something happens to it.

"Try it on, then."

It’s a bit too large on your finger, and it feels foreign. It’s not you at all. Then again, it’s not supposed to be you.

Before you can say anything, though, Bucky shakes his head. "What?" you say with a roll of your eyes.

"That couldn’t look more fake if you tried. Wait a sec."

He turns his back towards you and rummages through his bag for a while, his jaw still set as he holds out his hand once more. With a sigh, you pull the ring off again and return it, but before you can pull your hand back, he catches it in his own.

This one slides onto your finger perfectly, and your eyes widen at the sight of it. It’s a lot subtler, with only a small emerald for decoration, but it’s so delicate and beautiful it takes your breath away.

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes, but he swallows whatever came to his mind. "That’s better," he says instead, and his voice sounds oddly rough.

"They gave you a backup?" you say, angling your hand this way and that to see how the gem catches the light.

"Mhm."

Something is off about this whole situation, but then you feel like you don’t really know Bucky anymore. Not like you used to, anyway. It used to be so easy to get a read on him.

You stand there in silence for a moment, and it’s only then that both of you realize he’s still holding your hand. He drops it immediately, and you pretend it doesn’t sting.

"How come you don’t get a ring?" you ask.

"Says who?" Bucky says, clearing his throat and activating the camouflage sleeve Tony had installed for his arm. Sure enough, there’s a ring on his hand as well.

You grab his hand curiously. When you touch it, there’s no difference between his fingers and the pseudo-platinum band, all of it just cool vibranium in disguise.

"It’s fake," you say. "It’s not the same."

"No," he agrees and pulls his hand away. "Looks real enough, though."

You notice the red splotches on his neck and wonder what it is that you’ve said this time, but it’s pointless anyway. He’s not going to tell you even if you asked.

Maybe you should be used to him icing you out by now, but it still hurts.

***

"Yes, Steve, I know," you sigh. "We’re just gathering intel, nothing else."

"I just wanted to have you say it again so we’re all clear. You both love taking risks when it’s not necessary."

"Alright, punk, we got it," Bucky says, tugging at his tie again.

You can’t even blame him for the nervous habit; you’ve been twisting your fake wedding ring around your finger for the entire drive.

This isn’t the first time the two of you had to go undercover as a couple; hell, it’s not even the first time you’ve pretended to be married. Usually, though, you could have a laugh about the whole thing together.

Now you barely know how to act around Bucky as yourself, let alone as some made up woman.

"I think we’re going to attract a lot of attention if we don’t get out soon," you say, readjusting the collar of your blouse underneath your coat.

You notice Steve staring at your hand for a moment, a frown between his brows, but his lips curve upwards a split second later. "Ready to do this?" he asks and you smile a little in confirmation.

Bucky takes another breath and then he nods curtly. "Let’s go."

The change that goes through him as soon as the two of you climb out of the car is so stark you almost turn on your heels again and beg Steve to let you off the hook, after all. His hand sneaks around your waist and pulls you closely into his side as you walk towards the hotel, all soft smiles and charm.

"Sorry for the holdup," he tells the bellman waiting next to your bags with a wink. "The missus and I just needed another minute."

You lightly slap Bucky’s chest in fake indignation. It’s quick thinking on his part, really.

When you’re checking in under your assumed names for the evening, he keeps his arm around you, and the content look stays in his eyes. A subtle glance at your surroundings tells you some of your persons of interest have already arrived early for the event tonight, looking around the sparkling lobby with the same feigned boredom.

Bucky nudges your cheek with his nose and then smiles again when you look at him. It makes your brain shut off for a moment.

When he looks at you like this, it’s so easy to forget the past couple of months and just pretend for a moment. What if there was no mission at all, and it could simply be the two of you?

But of course, that’s not possible. All of it is fake, including the way he looks at you. You know that.

So how come it doesn’t feel fake to you at all?

***

You hate this dress, you hate these people, you hate this dinner, and most of all, you hate how much you enjoy spending this much time so physically close to Bucky.

It feels so natural when he links your hand with yours, so fucking meant to be, even though he’s just putting on a show for the band of creeps you’re tasked to keep an eye on.

But damn if he’s not good at it.

It’s amazing, really, how his eyes immediately soften when you turn your head towards him, like you’re the only person in the whole room. He looks at you during this charade like you wish he’d look at you daily, even far from prying eyes around you; especially then. It makes your breath shorten, your heart pounding erratically because it thinks it’s getting everything it’s ever hoped for.

Hearts are often stupid like that.

A full night of glances and touches and the pretence of secret whispers will do all kinds of twisted things to your feelings.

There’s a lull in the conversation, and when Bucky squeezes your hand you realize he’s no longer the only one who’s looking at you.

You chuckle nervously. "I’m sorry, I got … distracted for a moment. What were you saying?"

"Ah, newlyweds," one of the investor goons laughs. He’s a particularly vile looking man whose suit is way too big on his spindly limbs.

Bucky, academy award winning actor in another lifetime, chuckles politely while the fondness in his eyes seems to increase tenfold. "We’ve been married three years, actually," he says, sticking to your official cover story.

It’d been Tony’s idea to keep your fake timeline as close to the truth as possible to avoid any slip-ups. It’s a great move on paper, really, but in reality it just adds another nail to the coffin.

Three years ago, you were on a mission in Brussels, only the second one ever where it was just the two of you. It was mostly surveillance, so one of you usually had downtime while the other kept lookout. It became customary that you’d entertain each other during those long hours, getting to know each other intimately for the first time, taking the first tentative steps towards the friendship you now share.

That mission was the groundwork of your falling in love with him in the first place.

"You seem to be doing something right if you’re both still so enamoured with each other," Spindly Arms says.

"I’m the luckiest guy in the world," Bucky responds, still looking into your eyes. "It’s hard not to do the right thing, then."

He presses a kiss to your cheek and you smile timidly. His lips linger for just a moment, and then he moves to whisper into your ear, something you’re sure looks like sweet nothings to everybody else but is actually a, "Don’t fall asleep on me."

You tilt your head, shove him teasingly as if he’d said something inappropriate, and because he’s always been quick to catch on he winks, obvious enough so that the other people that are part of this conversation can clearly see it.

It’s not long after this that you excuse yourselves, walking around the room with apparent aimlessness. Everything is sparkling with pure gold decorations and countless little twinkling lights that have been scattered around the room like millions of fireflies. You spot an actual orchestra right underneath the massive Christmas tree.

"Kind of tacky, don’t you think?" Bucky murmurs with a sideway glance at you.

"Maybe a little," you say.

The truth is, though, the room looks oversaturated and expensive and magnificent. Something straight out of a Hallmark movie, more like a movie set than a real place.

It’s the one thing that keeps this whole thing from being completely unbearable.

He must have seen the truth in your eyes, because he ducks his head and says quietly, "I’m gonna go check out the terrace."

You just nod and smile as he kisses your cheek again and then vanishes through the crowd with a few long strides. Sighing, you take another drink from the tray a waiter offers you, absent-mindedly rubbing your cheek.

"What a lovely surprise," a voice says next to you and you freeze for a moment before forcing yourself to calmly take a sip. "Miss … Winter, was it?"

"Mrs," you say with a pleasant smile. "Good evening, Director."

"Right, of course." Director de Fontaine eyes her martini warily. "I don’t suppose these olives are fresh, do you?"

Your mind is racing. If she’s here on official business, then your entire operation might be compromised.

"So," she continues, looking rather bored. "Met any interesting people yet, Mrs Winter?"

"Oh, yes," you say lightly, clinging to your role of unassuming young wife. "It’s all rather exciting."

"I’m sure. These kinds of events are all very … shiny." She looks into your eyes and there’s an almost explicit warning written in hers. "It’s surprisingly easy to get blinded."

You swallow heavily even as she smiles. "If you’ll excuse me, I think I see someone …"

You quickly walk over to the buffet table where some of the wives have formed a semi circle of gossip, trying your best to hide your sigh of relief when the director doesn’t follow you.

For a few minutes, you lose yourself in pointless gossip, until one of the women takes hold of your forearm.

"You must tell us, what’s your secret?"

"Excuse me?" you chuckle nervously.

"Your husband!" she exclaims, earning a few nods from some of the others. "He clearly adores you," she goes on. "I don’t think he’s looked away from you once since you joined us."

You steal a look around your shoulder. She’s right. Bucky’s gaze immediately locks with yours, an almost bashful grin on his lips. You caught me, his eyes seem to say, and you feel a rush of heat go through you.

He should be nominated for an Oscar with this performance.

Quickly, you turn around again to meet several expectant pairs of eyes.

"I don’t know what to tell you," you say. "He’s just … always been like this. I mean, he’s my best friend. I really don’t know what I would do without him."

There’s not a word of a lie in what you’re saying, and it elicits a round of coos and murmurs even as your heart gives a sharp pang.

"Dance with me?"

You flinch, turning to look at Bucky’s outstretched hand, at the sad, hopeful look in his eyes, and the line between reality and fiction blurs a bit more.

You take his hand, and he pulls you onto the dance floor, some cheery Christmas song ramping up to its big finale. Then, the band switches to a slower song. To you, it sounds mournful.

"That was nice," Bucky mutters into your ear. "What you said."

"I meant it, you know," you whisper, but he turns, and you don’t think he’s heard you.

Bucky places his hand on your hip and you hide a shudder. His gloved fingers wrap around yours, and then you start moving again.

You barely know the steps, but he’s a great leader, and he doesn’t say anything when you step on his toes. In fact, his gaze softens even more when he looks at you after the third time, the hand around your waist pulling you a little closer.

"How are you doing this?" you say without stopping to smile.

"Easy," Bucky says, and the way he says it almost makes you believe it’s true.

You bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from breathing him in. "I didn’t mean the dancing."

With the last note of the song, you stumble over his foot again and he snorts. "Me neither."

The melody changes and neither of you lets go. His steps are getting slower, smaller, like he’s just trying to keep both of you in motion. Your head is spinning. The twinkling lights are starting to blur into a great mass of stars in the background, like you’re at the center of a music box and everything else is just background noise.

You wrap both hands around his neck as you’re swaying, then, your foreheads only inches apart. You could stay in this moment forever, you think, as it stretches into blissful infinity. Somewhere, a clock strikes ten.

Bucky leans in a little closer and your breath hitches again.

"It’s time," he whispers, and your eyes fly open.

You’d almost forgotten about the mission.

"Val is here," you say quietly.

His expression hardens for just a second. "What?"

"She came to talk to me earlier. She knows we’re here."

"Why didn’t you say something?"

"I … There wasn’t time."

"We’re just gonna have to be quick and discrete."

You open your mouth, but then you see the distance close in again between you two, and so you just nod.

The plan is almost laughably simple, but it’s probably going to work out just as you’ve laid out beforehand. Everyone in the room has watched the two of you staring at each other for the past couple of hours, so no one bats an eye when Bucky nudges you gently and you make your way up the stairs to the fancy elevator that’s going to take you up to a bedroom.

Or, more specifically, to a bedroom that’s being used to store all kinds of evidence, but no one else needs to know that little detail.

You notice the director talking to Spindly Arms and a couple of other people, but you force your gaze not to linger on her. Instead, you grab Bucky’s hand more tightly.

He lets go of you as soon as the elevator doors close behind the two of you, dragging a hand through his hair and messing it up. There aren’t any cameras in the elevator, but you’re both pretty sure there will be on the floor you’re going. "CIA exposure, that’s exactly what we needed."

"There was nothing I could’ve done," you say, tugging your sleeves down your shoulders.

"I’m not blaming you, sweetheart," Bucky says distractedly, loosening his tie. Your heart makes a very heavy thud. "But if Walker shows up tonight as well, I’m gonna shoot first and ask questions later."

"No, you won’t," you say with a grin, mostly because you know he didn’t bring his gun because the male attendees were all frisked at the entrance.

"Maybe I’ll throw a knife. I could say it was an accident."

The conversation lasts barely a moment, but it reminds you so much of what the two of you used to be, it hurts.

You follow him stumbling out of the elevator onto the right floor with a breathless laugh. There’s no one in sight as you subtly check the room numbers before making him follow you with a coquettish smile for the security camera.

You find the right door without much trubble, pulling the keycard out of your inconvenient little handbag. "Come on now," you murmur as the lock rejects it at the first try.

Suddenly, Bucky’s hand is on your waist again, and you gasp as he spins around. The keycard drops to the floor.

He presses you against the wall, effectively trapping you in his embrace. Your hands are laid flat against his chest, his heart thundering madly underneath your fingertips. Bucky’s eyes flit around madly, like he’s trying to come up with something on the spot and, for the first time since you’ve known him, is left without ideas.

You gasp as his nose brushes against yours.

"Sorry," he whispers hoarsely. And then he kisses you.

Your body responds immediately, lighting a fire in your core as his lips press against yours, hungry, gentle, almost apologetic. You can taste the champagne on his tongue.

You arch your back against him on instinct as his hands travel down your arms, brushing your hips, your tighs, slowly parting your dress at the slit. Your eyes fly open the moment you realize what he’s doing, even though he swallows your gasp.

In one smooth motion, he pulls the I.C.E.R. out of the garter on your thigh and fires a single, silenced shot. The guy with the earpiece barely has the time to grunt before he sacks against the opposite wall, unconscious, his hand still in the pocket of his jacket.

"Fuck," you hiss, pushing Bucky away from you. He stumbles slightly, the gun loose in his fingers. His eyes are almost black as he blinks at you. "You could have told me we’re being shadowed."

Bucky’s mouth is stained from your lipstick, and the sight of that alone makes your head swim. You can still feel the ghost of his hand on your leg.

"It’d have blown our cover," he replies, infuriatingly calm. "Hate me later, our window has just narrowed by a bit."

You swallow, blinking to try and gain control over your breath again, grabbing your gun back with a short nod. "Let’s finish this, then."

***

Back at the Compound, you both give an exhausted report about the events of the night, leaving out nothing but your improvised kiss on floor fifteen.

Your lips are still tingling with it.

Finally, you and Bucky are left alone in the briefing room, and for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t just get up and leave as soon as the silence takes hold. Instead, you both sit next to each other, staring straight ahead.

"I guess we should talk," he says slowly, reluctantly, and you can’t help it.

Your defenses shoot up again.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you say, squinting.

"Yes, you do." He’s lost the tie hours ago, but he keeps tugging at the fabric in his hands as if it could give him the words he’s looking for. "I shouldn’t have kissed you, not with … Not like that."

"Like you said, the guy would’ve blown our cover," you say, crossing your arms.

"Doesn’t make it right."

"What do you want me to say, Buck?" you say sharply. "That you should’ve talked to me before? Well, I’m kind of used to you not doing that anymore, so just forget it."

"Y/N—"

"No, really, it’s fine. Like I said, you’re leaving, anyway, so what does it matter. Didn’t tell me you were planning to do that, either. You just did it."

"You know why I’m leaving."

"No, I fucking don’t!" There are tears in your eyes now. "I have been trying really hard, Bucky, but you’ve just shut me out. I thought you needed space, which is fine, by the way, but you just—one day you decided you were done with me and that was it."

He stares at you incredulously. "You seriously don’t remember."

"Don’t remember what?!"

"That you were talking about me. To Natasha."

The memory rushes through you so violently it’s almost ridiculous you hadn’t thought about it in months.

You’d just come back from another undercover op, and you’d called her right as the door to your room had closed behind you because not for the first time, your feelings had threatened to spill over again.

"You should talk to him. Be honest."

"No, Nat, come on, I can’t—I can’t do that to him. I can’t risk … you know, he’s my best friend. And that’s all it can ever be. I don’t want to ruin what we have. I just wish he’d make it easier."

"You’re making excuses, you know. Both of you deserve a bit of happiness, don’t you think?"

"I tried," Bucky says now, barely looking at you. "I tried making it easier. But you’re so …"

"So what?" you ask hollowly, ignoring the fact that you can feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks now. "So pathetic? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? That’s why you asked for the transfer, so you can be rid of me."

"Rid of you?" Bucky starts, but you ignore him.

"You know what, Bucky, fuck you if you think my feelings for you are so much of an inconvenience that you need to leave the state. Silly me for thinking we could be adults about this."

"You’re the one who wouldn’t just tell me."

"Well, now you know anyway and I’m sure once you’re off to Cairo or wherever the fuck they’re going to send you, you can have a big old laugh about the stupid girl who fell in love with you despite the fact that—"

"Love?"

"I mean, obviously?!"

"You … you’re in love … with me?" There’s something very soft and vulnerable in Bucky’s eyes.

"Are we talking about two different phone calls?"

"I thought you hated me."

You huff incredulously. "Why would I hate you?"

"That’s why I gave you space, I thought … but then …" He grabs your hands. "Sweetheart, I’ve been in love with you for years."

It punches the air out of your lungs. "What?"

Bucky’s eyes are devastating as he looks at you, then. "I’m so sorry, I—I got it all wrong, I was just—I thought you know and you didn’t see me like that and that’s why I …"

"You …?" you say, still not quite comprehending what’s going on.

His thumb caresses your knuckles, halting when it makes contact with the ring you’re still wearing. "I'm in love with you," he says quietly.

"I don’t understand," you whisper.

"Please tell me I didn’t fuck this up completely."

This time, you’re the one to lean in.

Where your first kiss in the hallway had been feverish, this one is soft, almost unbelievably sweet, both of you still breathless with the fact that you’re allowed to do this. Finally, it feels like all the pieces are falling into place and you’re home again.

You press closer into him and Bucky smiles against your lips, pulling you in with his hands on your hips just like he did when you were dancing earlier.

The loudspeakers overhead crackle. "Alright, kids, we’re gonna break this up until you’re back in your own quarters, I don’t want to expose FRIDAY to the creation of your sex tape."

You break up with a snort.

"Fuck you, Tony," Bucky shouts, but he’s still smiling as wide as you’ve ever seen him do.

You giggle as you nudge your nose against his, curling your fingers into his hair. "That reminds me, you know."

"Of what?"

"Quick and discrete," you mumble, repeating his words from the hotel. "Title of your sex tape."

Bucky groans and shuts you up again.

(A few years later, you get the ring back.)

happy holidays, y'all 💛 thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

#sweet as sugar challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #almost believing

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aboutwerewolves · 3 months

Text

Would You Still Love Me If I Was A Werewolf?

Pairing: Werewolf Boyfriend x Human!Reader Warnings: idk werewolf? shitty description of shifting into a werewolf. A/N: Now I know I said I'll make an OC, but I'm too indecisive to pick a name. Please send me name ideas for my OC.

You heard the door open and checked the time '11 pm'. You sigh feeling helpless. Your boyfriend has started coming home late, or sometimes staying cooped up in his room refusing to come out. This has been going on for a month, since the camping trip you went to with him and your friends.

Truth be told, at first when he started coming late you felt as if he was doing something behind your back. But his behaviour and mood keeps fluctuating. Sure he becomes aggressive. Very aggressive. But not towards you, god no, he could never be aggressive towards you. Either he's very clingy and needy, or just pulls away from you.

Not only that but he's gotten warmer. His voice has turned more.....deep. And he has a bit of a growl in his voice. He's gotten a bit taller, muscular. His teeth feel like they're sharper. In all honesty, he has started to feel like one of the creatures in a monster fucking blog. But you try to tell yourself that you must be imagining things. Sure you're delusional, but not that delusional.

Today was one of those days where he was feeling clingy towards you. You were lying on the couch, with your boyfriend partially on top of you, his head resting on your chest. When suddenly he looked up at you.

"Hey....love?" he started to speak. "Hmm?"

"I have a question....Would you still love me if i was a w-"

"Worm?" you cut him off with amusement in your eyes.

"Huh? a worm?" He blinked.

"Yeah, weren't you going to ask me if I'd still love you if you were a worm."

"No. What kind of stupid question is that? Wait nevermind. Let me rephrase....what do you think about werewolves?"

You stared at him, your thoughts going haywire ⎯ 'Why did he ask me that? Did he find out about my monster fucking blog? Did he go through my tumblr? Wait is that why he's getting distant.' ⎯ amidst the chaos in your head you managed to croak out "I uh...like to believe they're real. If it's about that werewolf blog I run, it's just fiction...right? Like you know, werewolves don't exist. It's like writing for a fictional character. If it bothers you I'll stop. I should have-" you get cut off by him kissing you.

"I um....well it might sound crazy. So let me show you instead of telling you." He stands up and then closes his eyes. You look at him in anticipation and feel the energy shift in the room, you notice him opening his eyes that have darkened. His bones start to break and stick out in directions they're not meant to stick out. His height grows and he starts snarling. After what feels like an eternity, you're face to face werewolf that is around 7 feet. Well not exactly face to face since he towers over you.

He then shifts back and now you're looking at your very human boyfriend again. You're too awestruck to do or say anything. And then, you squeal. In delight. This catches your boyfriend off-guard and he just tilts his head in confusion. You hug him, full force.

"Does this mean you're fine with me being a werewolf?" he asks tentatively.

"I love you for who you are, not for your appearance. And your werewolf side is still you. I'll always love you." you say with a grin.

"I'm glad I have you. And what was that about writing for werewolves? I'd love to hear about your fantasies love." he says with a teasing grin, but you know he was serious about knowing your fantasies. You're in for a long night.

#werewolf x reader #werewolves #werewolf nsft #werewolf smut #werewolf #monster nsft #monster x human #monster smut #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #werewolf au #werewolf oc #werewolf boyfriend #monster x reader #werewolf x human #tw teratophilia #teratophillia #terato

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hoshigray · 10 months

Note

Hiya tojis darling ;)

I wonder if you can do this request but if not. Completely fine

wedding night with sexually frustrated toji. Reader is virgin.

Hello, krystal~ :D Been a while since you last requested, hope you're everything on your end is going okay! Lol, yes, I am indeed Toji's darling, currently watching TV with him as we speak~ Omg, I love this idea sm, hope I did justice with this one! Tysm for the request, nice to see you again~☆

Also, if you're reading this, know I'm currently away from this app for the week as I'm out on a trip with my close buds!! I'll still be writing when I get the time, so feel free to drop by my inbox as it'll still be open :3 Also also, I recently got to 1.8k followers!?!?? Sending hearts to y'all :D maybe we'll celebrate at 2k? I'll think about it while I'm gone...Anywho, plz enjoy this~

Cw: Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - soft one minute, then immediate smut, my bad haha - kissing/makeout session in a car; PDA (ig??) - Daddy kink - sex in a hotel room - oral (f! receiving) - missionary position - overstimulation - praise - biting (Toji nibble on your ear)- pet names (baby, darlin', cutie, good girl, mama, sweetie) - clitoral play (licking, sucking, and rubbing) - Toji being a good hubby for your first time, but still a menace - mentions of handjobs, blowjobs, and drool. Wc: 2.7k

"So? You feeling excited~?"

"Umm, I guess so? More like a bit scared..."

"Hehe, I get that. Shit, I'd be nervous, too, starting my honeymoon off with that hunk of a man...Oop! Speaking of, here he comes now..."

You watch your best friend, Utahime, poke to the side with their chin, and you turn to see the direction they pointed to. Tonight was the night of your wedding; the boisterous atmosphere by your guests was still alive and well but will soon wane by the second as the moment you've been anxious about has finally come. You're about to walk out of the venue to the SUV, waiting for you to head to the airport. But before you could do that, someone else had to accompany you. Your groom, the man you married today, walked towards you.

The day you'd see yourself get married to Toji Fushiguro was a day you couldn't foresee. Even after a long while being in a committed relationship with the older man, it's still hard to believe that he proposed to you on your birthday a year and a half ago. Five years of loving and being patient together all led to this moment, and it still baffles you that you are no longer a girlfriend — but a wife. And he, your husband.

Now that the party is coming to a close and pictures are almost finished taken, Toji approaches you outside his wedding attire. Finished changing out of his wedding tux, now substituted with a black turtleneck and dark jeans, a silver chain decorating around his neck. He surveys your changed appearance, your stunning white dress replaced with a comfortable yet elegant jumpsuit that compliments your beautiful skin and figure. He gives you a grin, and your heart swoons. "Lookin' gorgeous, baby."

Your cheeks grow warm, averting your eyes somewhere away from your handsome spouse. "Thank you...you too."

"Awww, look at you being all shy!" Utahime pokes fun at you, snickering to themself when she sees you glare at them. "You better be good to this one, Toji. They just might faint if you look their way~."

The man chuckles at the comment. "Maybe that's what I'm hopin' for, now that I got 'em all to myself." He then moves closer to pull you by the shoulder, your body rigid being towed to his chest, and you just know your friend has a stupid look of glee from the display of affection. "Ready?"

You incline to face him and give a meek nod. He kisses your cheek with a smirk, and Utahime squeals before heading to the front door in front of you. Busting it open to showcase the crowd awaiting your arrival, you two walk down in unison as the guests cheer for the newly wedded couple.

As you make it down the aisle, you look around and share smiles with the familiar faces that came and had fun at your wedding until the blazing sun was replaced with the happy moon. Friends and family clapping their hands to you and your husband, wishing and shouting praises and good luck for the two of you. You saw Mei Mei blowing kisses your way, Gojo lifting his shades to wink at you, and your college buddies chanting your name with your relatives.

On the other side, you could make out Shiu Kong in the far back, taking out the cigarette between his lips and waving goodbye to you and his friend. Geto stands at the front, smiling while his two daughters yell, "Congratulations!!" as you descend. And at the end stands Nanami with a small smile, and beside him are Toji's children. Tsumiki, your pretty flower girl, comes to give you a hug. Megumi, the once stoic ring bearer, followed his sister to do the same.

You return the embrace to the kids, telling them to promise to be good until you return and proceed to walk into the backseat of the car. Toji closes your door and walks to the other side to take his seat, and a roar of applause and cheers erupts when the vehicle drives out of the scene. A tremendous wave of tranquility washes over you now that you're away from the gathering; the wedding is officially over.

However, after you release a long sigh and rest your eyes with shut eyelids, you hear the sound of a seatbelt unbuckling and something — or someone — moving closer to you. And a pair of lips on your neck has you snap your eyes back open.

"T-Toji!" You yell at him in a hushed tone, taking note of the driver in front of your seat. "Not here, wait til we're at—"

"I know, sweetie, I know," he says but resumes arranging your neck and clavicle with kisses. "You just look so fuckin' beautiful; can't a guy have a small piece of his wife before then?" As if you could give him a proper answer before he brings his lips onto yours, your moans taken by him while he sucks and nibbles on your bottom lip.

You grab his turtleneck as you try to suppress the whimpers from airing out, not wanting the driver to hear what's happening in his car (although he's secretly listening to his own music with his earphones). But when Toji's hand snakes down to your butt and gives it a squeeze, you squeak. "Toji!" you whisper shout at him again, and all you're given is a snicker from the sly bastard you're stuck with.

"Shhhhh, lemme have you fr' just a second." Your tiny glare fuels his hunger more, taking your lips once more. And he toys with you throughout the ride to the airport. Such a liar!! You cursed, but this moment was bound to happen.

Despite spending many years together, how you've managed to still be a virgin is still a mystery even to you. You never thought so much about letting your virginity go, so you treated it as something sacred that you only wished to give to the right person. However, when the right person came through, you realized you still weren't ready to let it go. Bless your lucky stars, though, that your [former] boyfriend opted to wait for you, even when you said that it would probably happen when you two get married. You thanked the heavens for having such a patient man, as it showed how much he loved and treasured you.

...But having such a patient, attractive, and brawny man in your life for so long was not an easy task on your part. There have been moments when you'd fantasize about the fateful day Toji would deflower you, so much so there were nights your fantasies took the best of you, and your fingers slithered down the hem of your panties. Or the days when your eyes would linger on his strong, muscular body for too long before your face would feel as hot as the sun, and you'd want to melt on the spot when Toji catches you glancing, a giant smirk plastered on his face. Or times when he'd be too horny, and you'd offer to help him with his erections. Your blowjobs and handjobs would do more bad than good for both of you. Because Toji's desire for you increased day by day.

So ever since you walked down that aisle, you knew your eventual doom was coming to get you. Even when you two fly on your honeymoon, you sense his patience dwindle by the hours. And once you make it to the enchanting luxury suite, he finally snaps. Hoisting you up bridal style and storming right to the bed, clothes discarded to the floor, and lights dimmed to a softer glow.

"Ahhhnn!! Ahhaaa!! Tojiii!! It's too much!! Too mu—Mmnaaah!" He's now between your thighs, your legs propped up by his strong hands and cunt coated with your wetness out for him to see. Your cries are ignored by the obdurate older man, who flicks your clit with his tongue.

"I know, , but gotta have you right fr' me." He coos, chaste kisses set on your inner thighs. "Don't wan' break my baby on their first night." His words meant out for comfort, yet contrasted with the raunchy, lewd noises he was making on your slit. Licking and sucking on your moist folds, teeth grazing your sensitive vulva while his tongue satiates his thirst with your slick. His nose bumping into your clitoris in the midst of it all has you gripping the shits beneath you.

Tears prickle the ends of your shut eyes, your face hot like the air in the room, and your body sweaty and shivering from being in this position for about fifteen minutes. Toji said that the best thing for you was to have him tease and get your body ready. Nevertheless, had you known that you'd have the man eating you out nonstop like this, you would've prepped yourself better! It's so bad that your head pounds, his wet muscle attacking your chasm precisely to the point of your mind being stuck in a haze. No wonder you're constantly jolting, and your legs won't stop shaking — you've come three times already!!

"Hey, mama," you hear him call you, but you can't format a functional sentence now. You respond with gibberish you hope he can make sense of. "Say my name, and I'll let ya cum."

"T...Toji—Eeeyaahh!" He sucks on your clit with vigor; you could've sworn you almost choked on a gasp.

"Aht aht, the other one." Emerald eyes examine your direction.

You bite your lip at the patronizing tone of his voice. You know what he's referring to; it's just too embarrassing to say. For the sake of putting an end to this pleasurable hell and getting what you really want, however, your tongue burns at what you say next.

"Mmmm, please, Daddy...Please, let me cum. I want it!" You whine with hooded eyes looking down at him, and his devilish grin almost makes you melt. Without saying another word, his mouth returns to your leaky cunt. But this time, he brings a. hand down south, and his fingers rub rough circles on your delicate bud, the two sensations shocking your body into an experience you've never experienced before.

It's only a matter of seconds that you come right then and there, your body jerking and legs quivering in sync with your walls clamping onto nothing. And your cries don't stop there, more wails fill the room as Toji drinks your creamy substance for the fourth time that night. His tongue protruded into your spongey core and roughly licked on its tender nerves.

You appreciate the moment he lets you rest for a few seconds after removing his mouth from you, your shivering body slowly calming down to a stable state. You feel so sticky and dirty with the mess between your legs, coated with come and spit. So vulgar to even think about it that your ears ring.

Toji licks his lips of your wetness, "Did s' good fr' me, mama. Such a good girl fr' Daddy." He then stations your legs around his waist, and you peer down to watch him align his erect cock to your entrance. "Ready, cutie? Gonna need ya' to take some deep breaths fr' me, okay?" You nod and follow his instructions. The head of his cock pushes to you with every exhale, and your eyes automatically sew shut when his girth bullying your entrance brings in pain. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, nails digging into tan skin as you fight the discomfort.

But it all slowly vanishes once the tip slides in, a sharp cry escaping you. More whimpers and choked sobs fly out when he gradually pushes his length into you, tears striking down as his girth stretches your insides.

"Mmmm, holy fuckin' shit," he curses under his breath. "You're so tight, baby." You can only hum as a reply before his hips start moving at a slow cadence. The feeling of his dick between your walls is hard to comprehend. It's finally happened; you're no longer a virgin. So full of him inside you, unable to put into words the feeling you're experiencing right now.

It takes every part of his being for Toji to keep his ruts to a slow pace. He knows this is a big moment for you — it's necessary that you don't get too overwhelmed by him, or else something could go completely wrong. And he wouldn't want that for you. Despite that, a part of him really wants to relish your body. Five years of waiting for you to be ready for him. Five years of fighting the urge to pin you down and have you to himself. Five years of desire all crumble down for this exact moment. Now, when he finally has you for himself and no one else, the patience that was once there converts into that of pure lust.

His hips increase speed, and your hands cling onto him for dear life. The walls of your chasm clamp into him even harder, and your legs wrap around him, Toji groaning at your grip on him. He snickers through gritted teeth, "Jesus Christ, mama, y'r tryin' to snap my dick off? I'm not goin' nowhere." He coos while wiping tears from your eyes.

You open your mouth to say something, but all that leaves your mouth is a scream when he slams his pelvis into your cunt. The action has you arch your back toward him, his length brushing up on the sweet spots that you never considered were there. More mewls bounce off the walls of the suite as his thrusts recur with a vigorous rhythm.

"Daddy, I'm, Oh Jesus—Aiishhhh!!" You hiss out for him, eyes rolling back when he grinds his pelvis on your messy vulva. Squelching noises burn your ears. "I'm gonna cum, Daddy, I wanna cum!"

"Hnngh!! Yeah, sweetie, think y'r gonna cum?" He draws down closer for his lips to be dangerously close to your ear. Your slit clutching hard on his dick. "Wanna cum on Daddy's dick like a good girl?"

"Yes, yessss! Please, I want it!!" You wail out, no regard to how loud your voice is right now. All you want is your orgasm.

Toji's chuckle is too close to your eardrums. You squirm under him, and he playfully bites the lobe of your ears. "Go 'head, darlin'. Make a real mess on me, ya hear?" He kisses you lovingly while his hips snap at you at an erratic tempo, prompting uncontrollable moans to enter the air against your will. With every rut is an abrasive hit to the tender spots within you, and your clit doesn't go unnoticed when he brings his hand back down to play with it, grinding on the pearl rough with his calloused forefinger. And it's thanks to this that your fifth release comes to you in mere seconds.

Your husband tries to rut out more deep thrusts into you and plunge into you a while longer. But it's to no avail when your cunt flutters on his cock deliciously, forcing him to succumb to an orgasm of his own. Moans are exchanged between your mouths, and your bodies experience the aftershocks together.

And when the two of you enter a halcyon state with the quiet room, Toji frees your lips off his and wipes your pretty face off of tears and drool. "So," he kisses your cheeks. "How ya feelin'? Like a new person?"

"...I don't think I can feel my vagina anymore." You say aimlessly, happy to know your drained self has the older man laughing.

"Sorry 'bout that, mama." He brings his lips to your forehead. "Be lucky I'm tired from that wedding and flight. Otherwise, I'd be fuckin' the shit out of you all night." He snickers at your helpless expression, shaking your head at such a fantasy. There's all the time in your honeymoon for that.

You use whatever strength you have left to bring your hands to his face to cup. "Thank you for sparing me, my lovely husband."

Toji hums with a smile, the scar on the right of his lip lifted. And he kisses you until fatigue takes over you both, sleep being the only thing that shuts you from the outside world. The warmth of your embrace and the connection of your bodies are proof of the start of your newlywedded life.

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lovers-rck · 7 months

Note

heyyy I love your writing. I have a request for ellie x fem reader, but it's the readers first time with a girl.

thank you angel <3 I got too excited writing it and it ended up being a little long, but I hope you like it!

smut, +18.

☆

When the kiss gets deeper, you start to think. The thoughts in your head start to fight eachothers, they bite and punch and die and come back to life as Ellie grabs your waist. Her grip is strong, hungry, her fingertips kissing every inch of skin.

You try to follow her lead, trying to mimic some of her movements but your lack of experience gives you away. Ellie's hands are everywhere, in your waist, in your neck, in your legs, in your face.

She is hovering above you, your back buried in between the pillows, her body in between your legs. As she continues her kiss the red lights in your head begin to flicker incessantly, remembering that you are in fact a virgin, a girl who lacks experience, and that the furthest you got was when Ellie playfully bit your neck, which caused you to replay the scene in your head for the rest of the night.

You wanted this, you wanted to have experience, you wanted to have fun and enjoy sex like everyone else did, but you were also afraid. You always knew that Ellie had other girls before you, and that for obvious reasons she had more experience than you, and the thought that tortured you every day was not the fact that she had loved other girls before, but that those girls knew what to do to turn her on, to tease her, and you did not.

You were terrified that when the time came you wouldn't be good enough for her.

And to your horror (and your excitement) the time might have come now.

"Why is your body so soft?" Ellie murmurs as she kisses your neck, making a path to your clavicles "I might drown in your skin" you tried to laugh at her joke, but instead a weird sound comes out of your mouth. Ellie looks at you "You okay?" you nod frantically, strands of hair accompanying the movement.

Ellie leaves your neck and straightens up, your thighs on hers, her hands caressing your naked legs "You know we can't stop if you want, right?" her hair is messy and her lips are a bit swollen "You don't have to do this if you don't want"

You smile softly. She's a good person, you think "I know"

Lately you are consumed by a sense of not giving Ellie enough. That someday she will wake up tired of your fears and will come to your door to leave you forever.

But you know that's not true because Ellie is a good person "So what's happening?"

"What do you mean?" you replie, hands in your stomach

"You have been acting weird everytime i try something"

You want to punch yourself in the face.

"You don't not like it?" she asks.

"No!" you say, instant regret at seeing her face "I mean, yes, yes i do like it Ellie" you lick your lips, thinking "You are totally not the problem"

"Tell me what are you thinking" her voice is soft, she keeps caressing your legs, up and down.

You stare at the ceiling, and the ceiling quickly takes on such an interesting appearance that you would rather stare at it for hours than face the embarrassment that was invading you "Is stupid" you say "It's not important"

After a few seconds of silence, you look at her. She is waiting for you to speak.

"I just get nervous" you play with your fingers as you speak "I don't know what should i do, or what shouldn't. Im scared i might be bad in bed and you won't like it"

Ellie furrows her eyebrows "You don't have to worry about that, it's logical that you don't know what to do"

"Yeah but you know a lot!"

"Are you calling me a whore?"

"No!" you cover your face with your hands "I give up"

Ellie laughs and places her hands over yours, taking them off your face "I'm sorry" she brings them to her lips and plants a kiss on the back of your hand "But seriously, you don't have to worry about that"

"Nobody knows anything the first time" she continues "You just get good with practice" Ellie start to kiss your arms, her lips feeling every inch of skin as she reach your shoulders, moving her mouth to your neck, her body in between your legs once again.

She plants wet kisses in your neck, bitting softly and kissing the spot after. You felt how your fears start to fade with every kiss.

"Plus, is better if you have a good teacher" she murmurs and you laugh, the echo of your action reflecting in your chest.

"Are you supposed to be the good teacher?" she nods briefly, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around her waist.

When Ellie leaves your neck and looks you in the eye, you realize the joke is over. Her eyes pierce yours, full of lust. She kiss your lips with so much hunger that she thinks she might die just by kissing you. Her fingers sneak under your shirt and make contact with your skin, warm and soft just for Ellie's pleasure.

Your body acts alone. Your chest chases the warmth of Ellie's hand, famished by her touch, no longer afraid but excited. She caress your torso, trying to memorize every inch of it, feeling in a fever dream.

She never stops kissing you, but her mind is in the way you feel against her fingers, and she don't understand how long she had been alive without knowing that feeling.

A scene of absolute tenderness unfolds in the room. A non-verbal language that only their bodies understand, a language that has only two speakers in the world.

Words are not needed when Ellie leaves your lips to look at your shirt, you quickly take it off without a second thought. You feel her eyes scan your body like x-rays, and for a moment you think she might see your heart pounding.

"And you dared to be nervous?" she says, her eyes admiring your torso, a pastel pink bra decorating your breasts.

You chuckle with a bit of shame, wanting to cover yourself but knowing that you don't have to "Take yours off?" you asks shyly.

Ellie obeys and takes her shirt off quickly, a black sport bra greets your eyes and you love how fearless and shameless she is with you.

"Your wish is my command" she says and you laugh. You laugh and you laugh because your heart does not know how to express this feeling so sharp that dwells in your body, this love and this desire ""Can I take this off?" Ellie asks, touching the seam of your shorts. You nod.

The kisses resume quickly, only this time you feel them on your covered breasts, on your stomach, on your ribs. You feel holy, as if your skin is made of the most expensive diamond and only Ellie can have access to it.

Kisses sail among the sea that is your body, the sounds of wet mouths adorn the room. Ellie unfolds a path of kisses to your underwear, her teeth playing with the elastic of your panties "How are you feeling?" she asks, her breath hitting your pelvic bone.

You feel in cloud nine. Ellie's kisses work like the most expensive drug on the market, leaving you foolish and lustful "Good..." your murmur, too lost in the upcoming pleasure to say more than one word.

Ellie smiles in your skin "You want to keep going?" she says

You make a positive sound that Ellie takes as a yes. You grab her hair when she plant a kiss in your clothed cunt. She place your legs on her shoulders so that you are now completely open for her, exposed only to her.

For a few moments, Ellie hesitates. She feels that her mind has erased all experience ever acquired and now she lies blank, not knowing what to do. It was common knowledge about Ellie's adventures with different girls before she met you, the rumors about her development in bed were no secret, and she would never admit it but she felt some pride in those sayings.

Nights and nights Ellie had fantasized about this scenario, about having you at her mercy, about being able to enjoy your body for as many hours as she wanted. She never said it out loud because she didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable or pressured, but every time your skirt lifted a little Ellie felt like she couldn't contain herself.

So she feels totally lost when these wishes come true and she has you lying down for her, waiting for her.

She is about to surrender when with a subtle movement you guide Ellie's head towards your pussy, a vulgar movement but coming from you it transforms into something almost tender, and Ellie finds herself again.

She moves your panties to the side and kiss your skin down there, you gasp. Her finger collects all the wetness and start making little circles in your clit, aplying pressure when she feels like it.

She watch your body react to her. Your mouth open, whimpers coming out as she speeds her pace, your grip getting harder in her hair.

Ellie watch you a few seconds more, afraid that she would come just from touching you.

She places her mouth in your cunt, licking your clit and teasing your hole with her finger. You moan and quickly understand why people talk so much about sex, bragging about how good it is. Ellie controls your body in a way that makes the moans fight to get out of your mouth and your eyes close from pleasure, and you don't understand how you could go so long without knowing what Ellie's mouth feels like.

"I'm going to add a finger," she announces, and you smile at her sayings, analyzing how weird it sounds in any other situation "Tell me if it hurts"

At first, a burning sensation invades you. The feeling is weird, it burns everytime she moves but you want more. She moves her finger in and out slowly, watching your face for a signal of something "How is that?" she says

You whimper when she curls her finger, the uncomfortable sensation disappearing as the seconds pass. "Faster" you say and is all Ellie need to know.

She obeys and start fucking you faster, to mesmerized by the view of your cunt. You start to play with your breasts unconsciously, lifting up your bra and touching your nipples and when Ellie sees that she thinks she creamed her boxers.

Too selfish for her own pride, she straightens up and starts sucking on your breasts, her fingers still fucking you. You grab her neck, feeling her tongue play with your hardened nipples and her finger accelerates the onslaught. Ellie adds a second finger and you start to lose it.

Your legs are trembling and you feel your climax close "Ellie..." you murmur, lost in pleasure

"Tell me what you need"

You moan loudly when she curls her finger "Please" you continue "Harder"

She obey and start to finger fuck you harder, her thrust making your tits bounce to the pleasure of her eyes. She sits and watch the naughtiness of your acts, how you lick your dry lips and how your pussy swallows her fingers, how is cum leaking out of your hole, translucent white liquid adorning her fingers. Ellie hears the wet sound of her fingers against your cunt and whimper herself.

Ellie feels like she could faint from such a view.

Your orgasm hit you without warning, your body trembling in pleasure, feeling how your pussy leaks.

Ellie looks at her fingers covered in you and put them in her mouth, looking at you. Her tongue clean the cream and taste your sweet flavor.

You almost cum again seeing that scene.

After a few seconds, she goes and grabs a wet towel, moving your weak legs to clean your mess and put your panties in place. You feel light-headed, still recovering from your recent orgasm when Ellie comes back and lay down by your side, caressing your hair "Did you had a good time?" she asks, knowing the answer

You nudge her playfully, giggling at her question "You are such a narcissistic Ellie Williams" you murmur settling into her chest, your head on her heart, hugging her torso. You feel Ellie's chest heave as she replies "You didn't answer my question" her hand gently strokes your hair.

"I had an horrible time" you joke and she laughs

"Good" she says, her fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear "I'm glad"

#ellie wiliams #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader

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evilcowgirl · 9 months

Text

jealous ellie headcanons

ft. sapphic longing

i get my inspo from sintuationships bc im real

୨♡୧

ellie doesn't like not being around you at social events, or with you out of her sight. it stresses her out so much that she can't even properly enjoy herself without you close to her. can barely pay attention if someone's speaking to her because shes busy trying to watch you in the crowd.

convinces herself that everyone wants you. you often have to assure her that your friends and other people you interact with casually aren't secretly pinning over you or waiting on the opportunity to make a move. she never believes you, always stuck on the idea that you're too good to not have a billion more options.

ALWAYS thinks someone is flirting with you, and get pouty about it. when she's feeling bold enough she'll say something direct.

"i mean you didn't see the way she was looking at you from my perspective, you guys were basically at 3rd base."

ellie knows that you're only her friend, that you don't owe her loyalty, but anytime you bring up time you've spent with someone else she goes all quiet and short with you, not because she's mad at you, but because she gets an unexplainable feeling in her stomach like she's gonna drop dead when she thinks of you enjoying the company of anyone else but her.

cannot go an hour without bringing you up to other people (barely exaggerating.) her mind wanders to you so often she hardly even notices it. at the sight of a trinket you'd like, or a color she knows you love. whenever she hears someone say something that reminds her of you, she's quick to to point that out. you stay on her mind always.

can't handle being away from you too long, she gets antsy and starts asking around about your whereabouts. especially when she's missing you, all hell breaks loose. when she finds out that you were only getting lunch or something simple like that she feels embarrassed at how desperate she was to find you. (she'll definitely do it again tmr.)

likes to see you sitting in her room, around all her stuff doing whatever. painting your nails, reading, listening to music ect. just getting to see you in her personal space makes her happy. knowing that you're safe and with her.

will start an argument if she doesn't know where you've been. arguing with ellie is always slightly maddening because shes so nonchalant when she's being ridiculous that it makes you question yourself.

she's so sweet and nervous when she apologizes though, going over what shes going to say over and over in her room and still messing up.

"i'm just—fuck this is stupid—i shouldn't have said what i said to you. . . about the thing earlier?" she'll look away like a scolded puppy waiting on you to say something. "i'm sorry."

if you accept her apology, you can visibly see the fear leave her body. the worst thing that could happen to her is losing you and anytime she thinks that might happen her whole world gets turned upside down until she knows you're okay with her.

she doesn't see you as her property, just something really special that she wants to keep safe and close.

likes to keep a hand on you when you're walking with her. on your waist, a hand around your wrist or tugging at your clothes when she needs you to follow. she doesn't care if people notice, she'd prefer them to see actually.

writes the little things she notices about you down like she's studying you or something. the way you look at her when you're listening intently, how you act when you're sleepy. things she knows no one else would take note of. she jots down her thoughts about you when they're overwhelming because it helps, talking about it isn't an option she doesn't want to share you with anyone.

"she's so pretty when she's doing her hair, like a fucking angel on earth. she's driving me INSANE. i feel like i'm going to mess this up somehow."

gets jealous when you're babying dogs in front of her and will admit it !

"you never pay that much attention to me." when you totally do.

huge complainer, she's so bold about it too ! if you're spending any extra time with someone she'll get all dramatic about it and ask when you guys' wedding is and if she can be the maid of honor because shes petty.

can and will make things a competition if that means she'll get the chance to show off to you. some guy your age is impressive at target practice? she'll make an effort to double what he did just to say she can.

"i guess I've just had more experience." meanwhile she knew exactly what she was doing.

getting praise from you is like her main goal, anytime you let her know you're proud of her she feels like the most capable person on earth. on the other side of that is her absolutely debilitating jealousy when it comes to hearing you brag on other people. ellie doesn't pride herself on being nice but she gets pretty mean when she feels like you're giving attention she should be getting to others. you mention how well jesse did on his patrol and all of the sudden she's going on about how she's killed more infected as a kid than jesse could even imagine seeing.

oppositely, shes so sweet to you when you're feeling down, always making sure you know no one's allowed to mess with you (other than her) and if someone had she'd set things straight.

when you're feeling bad, or you're sick she likes to watch you sleep because you look peaceful and its ideal for her to see her girl safe nd happy.

strokes your hands and face while you're asleep, careful not to wake you. she's so infatuated and isn't quite sure how to handle it yet but for now she's able to roll with just being your person.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #ellie fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie tlou fanfic #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x female reader #tlou fic #ellie the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #ellie x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader

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pitchsidestories · 4 months

Text

Girlfriend Material II Jen Beattie x Reader

masterlist I word count: 3223

summary: in which Jen Beattie falls in love with a sports journalist who is also a single mother.

A/N: based off this request here. We hope you enjoy this one and we agree with you that Jen Beattie is really underrated. As always this is just fiction.

audio transcript of the interview with Jen Beattie for the bookproject

Jen: sips on her coffee So, how did you..?

Reader: laughs amused do I have to remind you Jen Beattie that I'm the person here asking the questions and it's about the Scottish Women’s national team?

Jen: I thought we weren’t starting yet!

Reader: You said you got your coffee in front of you and that we can start recording that conversation.

Jen: I didn’t know you meant immediately.

Reader: So now you know.

Jen: okay, sorry. I’ll let you talk now.

Reader: Thank you can see jen lifting her finger Yes?

Jen: No, sorry. I forgot I’m not allowed to ask questions.

Reader: Maybe you can ask a few so it feels more like a natural conversation? Maybe that works better for you too.

Jen: Okay, fine with me. How did you get the idea to write this?

Reader: Easy your team’s story is very intriguing and inspiring. I really wanted to cover more than a story, and, in a book, you get the chance to tell multiple of stories.

Jen: I like that. But I always think, we’re just Scotland, you know? There are more interesting teams to write about.

Reader: Yes, I get that but it might sound like a stupid reason, but I grew up in Edinburgh, so Scotland is very dear to my heart, also everyone loves the underdog.

Jen: I like that.

Reader: So, what I’m trying to say with this is you can trust me.

Jen: I do. Why would I not trust you with this topic?

Reader: Good point

Jen: See.

Reader: going back to our topic, when and how did you feel when you were getting your first call up for Scotland?

Jen: chuckles Oh that was a long time ago but as a football player you always dream of that call so as you can imagine I was very excited.

Reader: Do you remember that exact moment?

Jen: Yes, I do. I still played for Glasgow, and I almost missed the call because I started at the phone for too long.

Reader: You did?

Jen: Yes, I’m not sure what would have happened if I missed it.

Reader: I guess they would have tried it again.

Jen: Who knows, right?

Reader: I think it was meant to be.

Jen: It probably was. I’m glad I took the call though. It changed a lot for me.

Reader: This must have been a big step forward in your career.

Jen: It is. I don’t know if Arsenal would have wanted me if it hadn’t been for that call.

Reader: but Arsenal did want you. Lily entering the room Oh sorry this is my daughter Lily.

Jen: She’s adorable. Hi Lily.

Lily: Hello, are you mum’s new friend?

Reader: Actually, I’m interviewing Jen for my book.

Jen: But it’s almost something like that.

Reader: True. Can you give me five more minutes, Lil? And when we’ll go to the park to play football like I promised you earlier.

Lily: Okay.

Reader: Thanks love. Sorry, so where were we Jen?

Jen: Uhm.. oh, Arsenal.

Reader: Yes, right, you got the chance to play there.

Jen: I did. Together with my Scotland teammate.

Reader: So, you must have been very young when you made your move to London?

Jen: I was 18.

Reader: Right.

Jen: Kim was 18 too when she moved to London the year before, so I was glad to have her there too.

Reader: That’s really sweet.

Jen: We both were the youngest and now we’re the grandmas.

Reader: protests You’re not grandmas !

Jen: No but we like to joke about it.

Reader: I can see that.

Jen: With all the youngsters here.

Lily: wears a Scotland jersey Mum, I’m ready !

Reader: Shit, the five minutes are over.

Jen: You probably shouldn’t let her wait.

Reader: Sorry, that’s so unprofessional.

Jen: No worries. I understand that.

Reader: Thank you.

Jen: Have fun.

Lily: Do you want to play with us?

Jen: I would love to, but I have training. Another time, I promise.

Lily: Oh okay.

Jen: Lily?

Lily: Yes?

Jen: I mean it.

Lily: I trust you.

Jen: I’ll see you soon.

Reader: Goodbye, Jen. Thank you for taking your time.

Jen: Thank you for inviting me. And don’t forget to call me, so Lily and I can play some football.

Reader: I’ll call you. Promise.

Lily: whispers Mum, she likes you.

Reader: I think she likes you more.

Lily: But she likes you too!

Reader: Do you think so?

Lily: Yes!

Reader: When it must be true.

Lily: Its true.

The London Derby was about to start. The crowd at the Emirates was roaring with excitement. Amazed, you took in the atmosphere from the side of the pitch alongside some of the other jounalists.

Across the grass, you caught Jen’s gaze who was standing next to the tunnel in a big puffer jacket. She subtly waved at you which you answered with a small smile.

Kim Little appeared next to Jen, telling her something with a stern face. You knew the game was about to start so you turned back to your work.

“Has anyone seen Lily? Jen, you were supposed to look after the daughter of your girlfriend. “, Kim scolded Jen on the other side of the pitch. Reluctantly, Jen turned away from you and towards her teammate; “You said you would babysit.“ “After the match! I’m in the starting line up, remember?“, Kim replied, more amused than annoyed.

Laughing, Jen rolled her eyes; “Ugh, show-off.“ Her smaller team mate gave her playfully offended look; “Hey, you’re still talking to your captain here.“ “Yeh, sure. I’ll go find Lily.“, Jen answered with a grin and brushed past Kim into the dressing rooms. “Good!“, the Arsenal captain called after her.

Jen opened the door of the dressing room where the Arsenal players were just getting ready for the important game against Chelsea; “Lil?“ “Here!“, the voice of a child piped up. The little girl waved with one hand from her place between Alessia Russo and Kyra Cooney-Cross. In the other hand, she held a crumbly granola bar. Jen walked towards her, a big grin on her face; “What are you doing here? Having a snack?“

“Yes, Lessie gave me something. And Wally promised to do my hair.“, Lily nodded with pure joy. Jen ruffled her hair; “Lucky girl.“ “Comes from the one who only ever wears a bun on match days.“, Lia laughed while she pushed past Jen and took Kyras place.

Carefully, she started brushing Lilys hair. “It’s the least complicated and most effective hairstyle.“, the Scot defended herself with a shrug. Kim rolled her eyes; “And it makes you even taller than you are.“

With raised eyebrows, Jen made a point to look down at her captain; “How can you even tell that from down there?“ “Rude.“, she replied before turning towards the toddler whose hair was now in a high ponytail, “Lil?“ “Yes?“ “Tell her to stop making fun of small girls.“

Lily nodded determinedly, causing Lia to start over with braiding her little ponytail; “I’ll.“ “We’re done.“, Lia smiled a minute later, satisfied with her finished work. Lily happily jumped up on the bench, standing on her toes to eye her new hairstyle in a mirror. Laughing, Jen picked her up; “Good. Because these girls have to go out and play and important game now.“

“Good luck!”, Lily hummed. Gratefully Lia patted the shoulder of the little girl:” Thank you, Lily.” “Can you give me a hug as an extra motivation?”, Alessia asked her with a big smirk on her face. Enthusiastically Lily nodded, opening her arms up to hug the tall forward: “Of course.” That sight alone melted Jen’s heart in the blink of an eye.

In her bossy tone which was such a contrast to her relatively smallness Kim clapped motivated into her hands:” Alright girls, time to get out there.” While the playing footballers went on to the field Jen and the toddler took their seats on the bench.

Big eyed Lily pulled on the defender’s jacket: ”Jen?” “Yes?”, attentively the Scottish player put her little hand into hers. Deeply amazed Lily whispered: “This is huge.” “I know, right?”, Jen solemnly agreed. Not long into the game Beth Mead scored the first goal which made Lily jump from her seat shouting happily:” Yes, Meado!”

“Good job, Beth! She’ll be so happy about that girl.”, the defender commented with a satisfied smile. A bit less enthusiastic the girl added:” Mum told me she had a bad injury.” “Yes, she didn’t play football for almost one year.”, the Scottish Woman replied seriously.

Quite taken by that she mumbled: “ That’s forever.” “And her girlfriend Viv had the same injury.”, Jen explained the past situation to her. Moved by those words Lily observed: “That’s not fair.” “No but it happens in football.”, the defender reminded her.

The mood was lightened when the little girl was catching where the older woman’s eyes were wandering:” Jen, you keep staring at mum!” Caught of guard the Arsenal player’s cheek turned red:” I’m not I was just looking if she’s looking.” “Sure.”, Lily giggled.

After the match she ran to Alessia, telling her visibly very animated:” Lessi, your goals were soo cool!” “Thank you, Lily! You were our lucky charm today.”, the forward declared beaming.

After the live recording ended you greeted Jen with a huge grin, while she was wrapping her strong arms around you::” Hi love, did Lil behave?” “You know her of course she did. She’s too focused on the game in front of her.”, the Scottish woman answered cheerfully.

Glad about that news you changed the topic easily: “Good. Remind me, where are you taking me out tonight, again?” “You’ll see when we’re there.”, Jen smiled mysteriously. Excited about what the evening would contain you said: “I’ll be right back I’ll be just saying goodbye to Lily and tell her that it might get a bit later tonight, so she doesn’t need to try to stay awake until we’re back.” “Alright.”, with that word the Arsenal player let go of you for now.

A few minutes prior Kim wanted to know from the toddler:” Have you decided whose jersey you want, Lily?” “Can I have yours?”, she asked innocently. The captain was surprised by that wish:” Mine?” “Yes, please.”, Lily nodded quickly.

Flustered the older woman gave the little girl her jersey:” Oh, sure. Here you go.” “Thank you.”, the toddler gratefully pressed the shirt onto her. Trying not to show how touched she was Kim waved it off:” You’re welcome.”

Lily was already wearing the oversized jersey when you entered the dressing room. Your daughter happily ran into your arms. You wrapped her into a tight hug while you told her; “Hi Lily, I just wanted to say goodbye for now and that Jen and I’ll be back tonight. But I’m sure you’ll have a lot of fun with Kimmy.“

You shared a quick smile with Arsenals team captain. “Okay, have fun, Mum.“, Lily replied, obviously already distracted by what was happening around her in the dressing room. You pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before saying goodbye; “Love you, Lily.“ You could feel your daughters eyes on you while you caught up Jen outside.

Kim realized that Lily was confused by the situation so she kneeled down in front of the toddler; “Tell me, Lily, what do you want to eat now?“ “Can we eat pizza?“, the little girl asked with big eyes.

While Kim nodded, Leah Williamson joined the conversation; “Can we join the pizza party?“ “Please?“, Laura Wienroither added, her facial expression almost identical to Lilys. Kim nodded with a sigh before turning back the toddler; “Sure. How about we make our own pizzas, Lily?“ “Yes!“ “Alright, let’s go.“, the captain decided and got up to grab her bag. She took Lilys hand in hers while Leah and Laura followed them.

At Kims home, they immediately got to work, making small individual pizzas. “I’m jealous. Yours and Kims pizza looks so good.“, Leah complained, eyeing the ham and mozzarella pizza that Kim just took out of the oven. “It’s because Lily and I are a good team.“, she replied, holding up her hand for Lily to high-five. “True.“, the little girl agreed.

Laura laughed; “Not bad, Little team.“ “Thanks.“, Kim said, only partly annoyed by the pun. Excitedly, Leah took her pizza out of the oven next; “Time to eat our pizzas.“ But there was a loud bang that told everyone in the room that Leahs pizza did not even make it to the table. “Oh no.“ “Leah!“, Lily yelled, amused by the mess the tomato sauce and hot cheese made on the tile floor. “Yeah, I know, very funny.“, the defender sighed.

Kim immediately turned back to the kitchen table; “It’s okay, we can make a new one.“ “Lee, you can have a bit of mine.“, Lily offered, gently pushing a piece of pizza towards the defender. Gratefully, Leah picked it up and took a bite; “Thank you, Lily, you’re very sweet.“ “You don’t need to tell her that, she knows.“, Kim grinned while making more pizza. “Still. She shared her pizza with me!“

Finally, the captain admitted; “Yes, okay, it’s cute.“ “See, that’s adorable.“, Leah said. Laura disrupted their conversation, pointing towards the toddler; “Oh my god, girls. She fell asleep with her head next to her plate.“

A soft smile appeared on Kims lips as she watched the child sleep, a piece of pizza still in her tiny hand; “I think it was a long day for her. Winning against Chelsea is exhausting.“ “Very true.“, Leah agreed with a laugh. Carefully, Kim picked the girl up; “I’ll bring her to bed.“ “Good night, Lil.“, Laura whispered. Lily blinked tiredly and yawned against Kims shoulder; “Nighty.“

Meanwhile, you looked at your surroundings being in awe of the restaurant your girlfriend chose:” Jen, this is so fancy here.” “I told you; I’d take you somewhere nice.”, the Arsenal player replied with a warm smile. Proudly she kept holding your hand until you reached your table and took a seat each. “Yes, you weren’t lying about you.”, you had to admit delighted.

In an honest tone she stated: “As much as I love Lily, you also deserve to be treated to something nice.” “She loves you too, in her kindergarten she refers to you as her mum.”, you confessed, cheeks flushing. Surprised but flattered Jen asked:” She does?” “Yes.”, you nodded cautiously, unsure if this information was too much for your girlfriend.

The defender let out a shaky breath: “Wow.” “Sorry, if that was too much.”, you stammered an apology. Immediately she reassured you:” No, I like that.” “Anything you would recommend from the menu?”, you tried to lighten up the mood, but the football player was taking your hand meaning you to pause for a second.

Softly the Scottish woman said:” Love..” “Yes?”, you looked up to her, your free hand was nervously putting a loose string of your hair behind your ear. A deep sigh escaped Jen’s lips, before she confessed: “I want to be honest with you. I never wanted to be a mum; it just wasn’t one of my life goals like it is for other women. But I’d love nothing more than being Lily’s mum.”

“You’re already a great one.”, you confirmed visibly moved by her words. Equally touched Jen answered: “Thanks. That means a lot.” Because words couldn’t encompass how much her confession meant to you, you kissed her, hoping the kiss could encompass everything you felt in that moment. “I love you.”, the Arsenal player whispered. “I love you too.” Her voice was filled with gratitude:” I’m so glad you were writing that book.” “It’s coming out soon.”, you announced happily.

Hopefully Jen wanted to know: “Can I read it first?” “Of course, I’ll leave you a copy on your nightstand.”, you promised her excited. A bright grin was on your girlfriend’s face: “Thank you. I can’t wait to read it.” “I hope you and the team will like it.”, you bit your lip. “I’m sure we will.” From that on you two had a very pleasant date night.

After the dinner you gratefully greeted Kim in her home:” Hi Kim, thanks for watching after Lily.” “You’re welcome. She was really tired and already fell asleep at dinner.”, the Arsenal Captain told you. Understandingly you nodded:” To be fair it was a long, exciting day for her.” “That’s true. I hope you had a good date night.”, Kim smiled at you both. Beaming Jen replied:“ We did.” “That’s good.”, the midfielder seemed pleased by the happy faces in front of her.

“Mums?“, Lilys voice interrupted your small talk. The little girl stumbled into your direction, her eyes were barely open. “Yes?“, Jen answered. “You’re back.“, your daughter yawned. You crouched down, your arms outstretched and Lily let herself against your chest. “We are.“, you confirmed as you carefully picked her up. Jen reached over, ruffling the little girls hair; “Yes, and we’re going home now.“ “Okay.“, Lily mumbled, almost asleep again. Jen chuckled quietly; “She is so cute.“

You said your goodbyes to Kim and made your way back home. You placed the sleeping Lily in her bed, carefully tucking her in and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead; “Good night, Lil.“ “I think she had fun today.“, Jen commented from where she leaned on the door frame. You grinned; “Yes, they had pizzas together.“

“Oh, Kim just texted.“, Jen said in surprise. You watched her read something on her phone; “What did she write?“ “That she hopes we got Lily home without waking her up.“, your girlfriend summarized the message quickly. You shrugged; “Kind of. She’s asleep now.“

With a smile on your lips, you took Jens phone out of her hand to snap a photo of your daughter, fast asleep with her favourite plushie in her arm. Grinning, Jen followed up her message to Kim with the photo while you both left Lilys room. “She and the girls seem to like being aunties.“, Jen thought out loud. You nodded happily; “They do. Even though Kim always pretends to be annoyed when you ask her to babysit.“ “Yes, but she secretly loves it.“, Jen replied with a laugh. “Oh yes.“, you agreed while you both slipped into your bed.

Only as your head hit your pillow, you realized how tired you were. Yawning, Jen slipped an arm around your waist and gently kissed your neck once. Just before you two were about to fall asleep, Jens phone screen lit up again.

As she held up the phone and blinked against the brightness of the screen, you caught a glimpse of the message. It was from Kim, reading; “Haven’t seen you that happy in a long time. You deserve this, Jen.“ You could feel a smile spread on your face, similar to the one on your girlfriends and you couldn’t deny that you felt a little bit honoured by that message.

Jen put her phone back on the nightstand and pulled you closer to her. You both didn’t need any words to express how right it felt to be there in each others arms.

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