#i like parts of this and hate the other parts

[gallusrostromegalus]

In the latest installment of me Terrorizing Medical Professionals, I got my Wisdom Teeth extracted because one decided to be an asshole and the other 3 were pending assholery, and demonstrated to my dentist that it's entirely possible to out-metabolize Ketamine if you start moving ASAP and also have a freakishly powerful liver.

So yesterday I had my one-month Checkup. It went pretty great, and the dentist asked if any part of my mouth was bothering me.

"Yeah, there's a sharp bit of bone coming out through the side from the extraction in my lower right jaw. The bone spur itself doesn't hurt, but it keeps cutting my tongue, so can you just pull it?" "Oh. Sure! Let me go get everything to do that." she said, and went to go get the tools for the extraction.

...Then there was some kind of confusion at the front desk I could overhear, with someone showing up with an urgent problem and they had to juggle the available staff, so she came back a bit later with the Pliers, said something about something taking "long enough" and went in.

It came out in two pieces, and the most discomfort I had was like, a 3/10 from the extraction itself, but mostly from keeping my mouth open.

...About halfway through, the Hygienist came in, apologizing for being late getting back from the front desk.

"Oh good, you have her the Novocaine!" the hygienist sighs with relief.

"What?" Said my dentist.

"What?" said the hygienist.

Both of them turn to look at the very full syringe on the tool table behind me.

"Honestly this is bothering me way less than the shot would." I said, lightly dribbling blood, and they both turn to me in horror.

"I really hate needles." I explain.

"What." says the dentist.

"Woah." Says the hygienist. "You would have done great in like, The Civil War."

Which is probably the funniest thing anyone's every said about my dangerously high pain tolerance.

Anyway, it was a one-off issue, and a non-issue for me because I think a normal person would have stopped her, so I go back in August if she doesn't recommend me to someone else for terrifying her twice in as many visits.

#family lore #Dentistry #CW: teeth problems #I am fine I just tolerate pain extremely well if I know it isn't going to kill me

[multigenderswag]

I'd like to talk for a bit about the genre of post that's like "sure you're a boygirl fagdyke genderfreak but do you respect [trans identity]?" I think these sorts of posts do address a lot of important points, such as:

Even if you're genderqueer and going "gender isn't real! smash the binary!" there's a real possibility you haven't unlearned or might still be upholding some very transphobic sentiments, and you should do some introspection about that

Some people only want acceptance for their trans identity but don't want to do the work to deconstruct what gender looks like, stop holding other people to their own gendered expectations, and unlearn their internalized bigotry about different trans identities

Sometimes the [trans identity] is specifically relevant to the identities referenced, such as people who will do surface level acceptance of "boygirls" but then call multigender people problematic for using "contradictory" terms like male lesbian, or asking "are you normal about intersex people?" to point out the prevalent intersexism in the multigender community.

But if the [trans identity] or intersex identity being asked about isn't related to multigender community issues, it seems a little strange to consistently single out labels like boygirl and fagdyke that tend to be used by multigender people in these posts. All kinds of trans people can be transphobic about other trans identities. All kinds of trans people are capable of fighting for their own acceptance but not anyone else's. But these posts are pretty frequently just about boygirl fagdykes.

It reminds me of posts about a "theyfab named Sock being transmisogynistic." Are there transmisogynistic FTX nonbinary people? Yes, no one is immune from perpetuating transmisogyny. But these types of posts are still exorsexist.

Similarly, though I'm not saying the pattern of "sure you're a boygirl fagdyke genderfreak but do you respect [trans identity]" is necessarily exorsexist or transmultiphobic, since like I said they do address important points, some of which actually are multigender community issues. But people do use those types of posts to be really transmultiphobic and exorsexist, but in an "acceptable" way, because the boygirls are transphobic so it's okay to hate them.

Some examples in the notes of this sort of post asking 'are you normal about trans women?":

This assumes that multigender identities are only an online thing, only a young person thing, that all multigender people look cis in real life, that no multigender person has experienced real transphobia.

Again, this assumes that no multigender person "looks like a freak" for their gender, that they never struggle with transphobia offline. And straight up saying they have a "huge issue" with girlboy genders.

Multigender labels aren't "performative titles," they're our genders. This person is just straight up admitting they think our genders are fake, that they're only "titles" and not real fucking identities.

"I tend to Not like multigender people" okay so we're just saying the quiet part out loud now

By all means, keep talking about intracommunity transphobia. It's important. But don't throw multigender people under the bus to do so.

#transmultiphobia #was having a discussion on this with some other trans people and thought it might be worth posting about

[nereidprinc3ss]

andromeda | (dybmn? bonus)

a bonus vignette from spencer's POV. we find out how he really feels about reader. takes place the day before the argument at the bar.

note: this is not part six! takes place between parts four and five, five being the most recent part. read part five here

18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, semi-graphic descriptions of sexual fantasies, some angst, you're not actually present, mention of alcohol, very vague discussions of murdery stuff bc he's supposed to be working, sassy spencer makes an appearance a/n: for all my angels who said they wanted a snippet of spencer's POV! i'm sorry if i'm overdoing it with this story or clogging the spencer tags, i'm just having a lot of fun! i hope you enjoy or that this may be clears some things up for you, pls lmk your thoughts:) ily!!!

Spencer is incessantly drumming the particle board table underneath his fingers.

The polymer veneer is one of his least favorite textures—he hates the grain of it and if he were to accidentally scratch the table with his nails he knows it would make the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

But of all the things he’s worried about, that ranks very low on the list. 

He’s got a lot of mental tabs open all the time—and the tabs, he can deal with. It’s when he starts trying to operate with multiple windows that he begins to struggle. His brain, while it is a very fine tuned sort of computer, only has one monitor. Unfortunately, no human (except for the ones who’ve had their brain hemispheres surgically split) is immune to the inevitable pitfalls of multitasking. By dividing his mental energy between you and his job, he’s really fucking up his job. But he also thinks he really fucked up with you on that phone call the other night and for being as logical as he is he can’t seem to make that feel unimportant—even though he’s disgusted with himself for it because there are literally people dying. 

Someone knocks on the open conference room door—he looks up, skimming his lips over his fist. 

“What’s up?” he says too quickly upon seeing Emily’s mildly concerned face peering in on him. 

Her mouth bridges into a sort of nonchalant frown and her brows kick up. 

“Just… checking in. Haven’t heard from you all morning.”

“Yeah, the, uh—the geo-profile. I’m still… I’m still working it out.”

It’s not like he’s ever been phenomenal with his syntax in a social sense, but Spencer is certainly aware he’s doing even worse than usual right now. 

“Okay. Uh… is there anything in particular stumping you, or…?”

“Nope. Just not enough information. But I’m—I’m going to keep trying.”

“Alright. Got your phone handy?”

It’s an odd question—of course he has his phone handy. He’s been doing this job longer than Emily has. How else would he communicate with the rest of the team? He bristles. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Emily shakes her head. She’s always been particularly good at reading his moods.

“You’re not under attack, Reid. I was just asking.”

Just as he’s about to say, why would you assume I’m not prepared for my job, he manages to swerve away and stifle the words with his fist. Instead he looks back down at his copy of the map and nods. In reality, he truly isn’t prepared for his job today. The reason he has his phone so close, fully charged and at top volume is because he’s worried he’ll miss a call from you. 

Emily says something else, and he hums in response, and then she’s gone. 

He shouldn’t be reading into your reticence this much. It’s not like you just sit by the phone all day, eagerly awaiting a call or text from him (like he does you). You have a life. You’re busy. And even if you are intentionally dodging his texts, he can’t entirely fault you for it. Spencer knows he’s clingy. He knows he’s overbearing. It’s part of why he panicked the other night and told you the whole humiliating story about Elle. Because he can’t ever just be cool and he felt the need to explain himself. 

But the problem was, and is, that he doesn’t know how much longer he can go without saying those three words that fucked him over all those years ago.

So he’d danced around them. Applied them to someone else to try and avoid outright professing his all-consuming love for you over the phone. However you feel, Spencer has to assume he feels more. Spencer always has to assume he feels more because he usually does and it’s gotten him into trouble before. And now he’s pretty sure he was exactly right, as often is the case, because you didn’t tell him he was mistaken and you’d clammed up and you haven’t talked to him since and he’s not supposed to be reading into it this much. 

Three victims killed and dumped within a 6 mile radius of the first victim plus one victim killed and dumped 23.8 miles away. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Fuck this guy. 

Spencer decides the problem is that he needs more caffeine. 

Or possibly, if he were a different kind of man—copious amounts of alcohol. 

So he stows his phone in a pocket and asks the first person he sees where the coffee machine is. 

“Looks like you found it earlier,” the woman says, glancing pointedly down at his mostly empty mug. A playful smirk tugs at pinkish-brownish lips. She’s pretty, he realizes distantly. But he registers it the same way he’d take note of the model of a car, or the species of a bird, or the kind of shoes someone is wearing. It doesn’t actually interest him. It’s just part of processing his environment. “I can show you to it?”

He doesn’t have the heart or energy to explain that someone else brought him his cup earlier and he’s not flirting with her. 

“If you could just point me in the right direction…?”

She laughs, short and dry, before she’s pointing down a hall. 

“Kitchenette down there and to the left.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, already walking away without sparing her a second glance. 

She’s the kind of woman he would have paid a lot more attention to before you came along. Not that he’d ever sleep with someone on the job (not since he was 25, anyway), but if he’d met her under any other circumstances he probably would have cared more about the way her pupils dilated and her eyes had widened slightly and she’d adjusted her posture and all the other small things people do when they’re attracted to someone else. 30 year old Spencer might have slept with her. 27 year old Spencer definitely would have slept with her. Current Spencer obsessively pines for a woman who is already his girlfriend and whom he has yet to sleep with at all far too much to think about other women like that. 

But god, does he think about you like that. 

His feet carry him down the dim, carpeted hallway but really it took barely a nudge and he’s thinking about you like that. At work. As he’s pouring himself coffee. 

Spencer is confident in the fact that if anyone were to look at him right now, they’d never guess he’s running clips of you in his mind like a dirty supercut. Because he’s just pouring coffee. That’s one good thing about having all those tabs open all the time. He can toggle between them quickly. He has enough going on in the background that people look at him and all they can tell is that he’s thinking hard about lots of things. Some of them just happen to be the way you look when you’re naked on his bed, skin shining and glazed eyes sleepy, parted lips higher in color than usual and catching your breath. Some of them happen to be your hair brushing his stomach before he gathers it back for you. Some of them happen to be the way your thighs feel on either side of his face, or how you stretch around his fingers, or how you might feel when you stretch around his—

He hisses as hot coffee overflows from the mug and burns his hand. 

Maybe he’s not as calm and collected as he thought. 

But on top of all the other things he’s dealing with, having been so close to actually sleeping with you the other night is really fucking with his head. Even if he tells himself he wouldn't have done it, he knows himself better than that. He's too familiar with the effect you have on his judgement.

“Found it okay?” 

Spencer looks down, surprised to see the woman from earlier sitting at her desk and watching him as he quickly passes by on his way back to the conference room. Her legs are crossed. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a flouncy sort of blouse which seems impractical for working in an FBI field office. Maybe she notices his eye catching on her figure and misguidedly swivels her chair to give him a better look. But all he’s noticing is that it doesn’t look like yours. Now he’s picturing the curve of your hip dripping in silk after that first night at Rossi’s. How your waist and your stomach feel when he slides his hands over you. This woman—she might as well not even be here for all he’s actually seeing her. 

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

Then he’s gone. Very briefly he acknowledges that he should feel sorry for so obviously brushing her off, but he doesn’t care even close to enough. He sets the coffee down on the table and rounds to the board where one of several maps is taped. On autopilot he draws lines between dump sites because one of the background tabs had deduced, while he was busy watching you like porn, that the distance between dump sites form the beginnings of the constellation Orion with some mathematical precision that’s too exacting to be coincidental. Orion’s Belt plus the most recent victim. Betelgeuse. 

There are ten formally named stars that make up Orion. He marks all of them, but circles the transposed coordinates of Bellatrix, Saiph, Rigel and Meissa as the next most likely dump sites. Most probably it will be Orion’s head. They’re all in wooded areas. He calls Garcia. Garcia will call Emily, wherever she is. If the unsub sticks to pattern, which they always do, they have until midnight. It’s trite, really. Predictable, like people always are. Far too quickly he drinks half the cup of scalding coffee and retraces his steps through the office to find the bathroom. 

It’s empty. The fluorescent lights hum. Spencer washes his hands with cold water and presses still wet fingers to his eyes. You’re waiting for him behind the black of his lids.

At first you would whine, and he would kiss you and you’d moan into his mouth and say his name when he opened you up as far as you would go. The air would be thick and warm with sex and vanilla perfume. Afterwards he’d take care of you and buy new sheets for his bed in your favorite color even if they didn’t match the walls and there would be nothing you’d want for that he couldn’t give to you ever again. 

But. 

That’s all contingent. 

No matter how often he fantasizes about it, no matter in how much detail, and regardless of how often those details change wildly, one thing always stays the same. 

The shape of your lips, swollen from kissing, bending around five or six vowels and only two consonants (it seems odd that there are only two consonants in I love you), sometimes before you start, sometimes in the middle or right at the peak—but always there, always moving in slow motion—and always silent.

In real life, they’d be aloud. It’s why his fantasies aren’t good enough. It’s why he can’t stop fantasizing about it. That’s the only part that really matters to him. The rest varies. 

Not because having sex with you doesn’t matter—it matters so much he almost shatters his molars whenever he starts picturing it around other people. But because Spencer can’t have sex with you until you love him. 

And he worries that you can’t love him until you have sex with him. 

The last time he thought that about a person, it didn’t turn out well.

Maybe there is some magic number. Some amount of times you need to have sex with someone before they’ll love you back. 

If there is, he knows for a fact it’s more than 32.

And he also knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he cannot have loveless sex with you thirty three times while he waits to find out. 

Not again. 

But he's going to hold out as long as he possibly can until you say it because he so badly wants you to love him back. He'll let the weight of every ignored text, every reminder that you don't feel that way about him, hang from his shoulders until he collapses. And then he'll probably try to get back up.

Recycled paper towels scratch against his skin. He dries his face and hands and throws them crumpled into the trash can. 

Outside the restroom, he pulls out his phone. For safety reasons and paranoia disguised as professionalism, you’re not his lock screen. It’s a photo of the Andromeda Galaxy. Whatever distance lies between you and Spencer, it could always be greater. No matter where you are in the world, you will always be the same 2.537 million light years away from Andromeda that he is. 

It makes Orion feel much closer. You, too. 

He sends you a text—the third message in a row. 

The distance between blue bubbles feels like light years. 

I’ll be home tomorrow. I miss you. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

[sterredem]

Simp

Carlos sainz x reader

[SMAU]

Face claim Gracie Abrams

Summary Carlos simping over his girlfriend… that’s it.

Word count -

Warning none (not proofread)

A/N pretty short but I still like it! Hope you also enjoy it! Made it in a few hours (over a few days).

I changed the request a bit so it was easier to make a smau but I hope y’all enjoy it!

Instagram

Liked by Yourusername and 1.739.826 others

Carlossainz55 Happy birthday Mi Amor 🎉🎂 she said I needed to use ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 22’ but she turned 28 so that doesn’t make sense.

View all 2.836 comments

Yourusername CARLOS! I said not to post it!

Carlosssinz55 Sorry mi Amor, you just looked so beautiful.

Lilymhe So beautiful!

Yourusername says you!

Francisca.cgomes Happy birthday my love!

Yourusername Thank you🫶

Alexandrasaintmleux You should have used the lyrics!

Yourusername That’s what I said!

Carlossainz55 Sorry mi amor!

User1 she is so pretty!

User2 Happy Birthday Y/n!

User3 Awwwww! She’s so cute!

User4 love the ‘shy’ pictures! She’s so real for that!

User5 love Carlos showing of Y/n!

User6 🎂🎉

User7 so cute!

User8 they are the perfect couple!

User9 the best couple frfr!

User10 2 different birthday cakes?!

User11 she’s so lucky!

User12 HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY FAV WAG

User13 love the mix of the pics!

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Twitter

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Instagram

Liked by Francisca.cgomes and 1.236.278 others

Yourusername This is totally not Carlos. Totally not. Just me Y/N posting myself!

View all 3.739 comments

Carlossainz55 So pretty Mi amour

Francisca.cgomes Oh no… she’s gonna be so mad…

Lillymhe NOT THE FIRE😭

Alexandrasaintmleux THE PICTURES😭 so unserious😭

Carmenmmundt HAHAH Totally not Carlos no…

User1 HAHAHAH I LOVE THEM

User2 not Carlos simping over his gf on her own account😭

User3 THE PICS ARE SO CUTE

User4 She’s so pretty! Even when she does the most weird things😭 so jealous

User5 HAHAHA CARLOS

User6 Oh she maddddd

User7 Carlos simping part 2000000

User8 exited to see her reaction

User9 the stuffed animal😍

User10 I love their relationship😍🫶

User11 I love their dog😭

User12 The WAG’s in the comments! I love their realistisch!

User13 not this being one of the only posts of hers with over a million likes……

Yourusername CARLOS!!!

Yourusername WHAT IS THIS?!?!

User8 HAHAHHAHAHAHAH

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Instagram

Liked by Francisca.cgomes and 1.738.037 others

Carlossainz55 appreciation post for my lovely and beautiful girlfriend @yourusername

View all 5.836 comments

Yourusername OMG CARLOS!

Yourusername but tbf the pics are kind of cute

Alexandrasaintmleux You mean OUR girlfriend?

Carlossainz55 no

Yourusername yes

Francisca.sgomes Pretty girl fr

Yourusername I’m blushing

User1 so pretty

User2 cuteeee

User3 love the couple pictures

User4 the shoes🥵

User5 best couple ever

User6 my fav wag and fav driver

User7 so jealous of Y/n

User8 she’s so hot

User9 not Carlos dumping on main🤣😂

User10 THE COOKING PIC LIKE AYDJDHBEEG

User11 Carlos is the biggest simp ever AHHAHA

User12 there so amazing

User13 I hate them

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Instagram

Liked by Carlossainz55 and 563.835 others

Yourusername Hanging out with my loves🫶 missed y’all!

Tagged Alexandrasaintmleux, Francisca.sgomes, Lilymhe, friend1, friend2

View all 4.835 comments

Carlossainz55 GORGEOUS

Carlossainz55 Pretty girl!

Carlossainz55 I’m in love with you

Carlossainz55 pls date me

Yourusername CARLOS HAHAHAH we are

Carlossainz55 OMG

Francisca.sgomes gorgeous girl liked by author

Alexandrasaintmleux loved hanging out!

Yourusername We should do it again soon!

Lilymhe Run away with me

Yourusername already packed my bag!

Carlossainz55 ???!!!?!?!

Yourusername look away my love

Friend1 love you! Liked by author

Friend2 So pretty! Liked by author

User1 not Carlos again🤣😂

User2 pretty

User3 🥵😍😘

User4 the pics are amazing!

User5 hottest friend group ever!

User6 doe Carlos have notifacations or something?! He is always the first hahah

User7 I am so curious what happened in those pics🤣😂

User8 love your style!

User9 in love with you

User10 Carlos here again

User11 pretty girl

User12 I love her friendship with other WAG’s

User13 you don’t deserve Carlos

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Instagram

Liked by Yourusername and 1.738.935 others

Carlossainz55 I may be a simp but how can I not when this is my girlfriend?

Comments are limited

Yourusername CARLOS YOU ARE THE SWEETEST

Yourusername I love you!

Carlossainz55 I love you too!

Francisca.sgomes YOURE so real for that

Lilymhe Prettyest girl

Alexandrasaintmleux You’re right, you now have the rights to simp over my girlfriend

Cgarles_Leclerc simp

Landonorris simp

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#formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #x reader #formula 1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 polls #lando norris #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #cs55 smau #cs55 fluff #cs55 imagine #cs55 x reader #cs55 fic #cs55 #Carlos sainz x reader fluff #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 angst #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 x reader #f1 masterlist #f1 fic #f1 #sterredem

[exhaslo]

English is not my first language, so I hope I can speak it correctly. I imagined a story where the shy!reader has hot dreams about Miguel, and for some "reason" (Lyla), Miguel finds out and decides to tease the reader until everything ends in an NSFW way. I hope I have given you the idea within the appropriate terms.

Hehehe, no worries my friend. I know just what to write.

Warning: MINORS DNI, SMUT, teasing, slow sex, masturbation, fingering, wet dreams, overstimulation

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

This obsession you were having with one of your co-workers was getting out of hand. You knew it was a long shot that you could ever have a chance with the one and only, Miguel O'hara, but you couldn't stop dreaming about him.

Miguel O'hara was the smartest man in Alchemax. He was in charge of nearly everything that had to do with genetics. Every woman wanted to be his, hell, even men wanted a piece of that hot ass.

You? You were part of ordering team. It was a blessing and a curse, mainly because you got to talk with Miguel a lot more than others. You had to get with him to see what materials he needed. You loved it, but also hated it.

Why?

Because each time you talked to Miguel helped you dream of him fucking you raw. His hands pinning your head down against your pillow as he plows you from behind. The thought of his dick filling you again and again made your pussy throb.

His husky voice whispering in your ear, asking you who you belonged too. His balls emptying out inside your womb, coating your walls white.

Drool nearly rolled down your lips as your fingers rested gently against your throbbing bud. Oh, how Miguel O'Hara made your mind wander to the dirtiest parts. It was difficult because you knew something as glorious as that could never happen.

When you got home, you had nothing better to do than record your thoughts. Unlike the past where people wrote in a diary, the year 2099 made things easier. You summoned your AI and set it to recording mode, ready to talk about your wildest fantasies.

"Ah, and when Miguel's hand grazed mind when he handed me the list...mhm...I couldn't help but think how those fingers would feel inside me. Why does he have to be so hot? I can't mutter a word to him about anything other than work!"

You whined and cried as you let your frustrations out in your virtual diary. It wasn't fair. You wanted Miguel to notice you as a woman. You wanted him to ask you out. To make you his.

But who knows whenever that will happen.

---------

Miguel was stuck in his lab, working on some late projects before calling it a night. As he worked, he recalled you. Smiling at how shy you were, Miguel leaned back in his seat. Out of all the girls who fawned over him, Miguel enjoyed you the most.

The way your cheeks turned bright red whenever he spoke was adorable. How you doze off and let your mind wander only made Miguel curious. What could you be thinking of when he was standing before you?

"Lyla, could you find a way to contact (Y/N)? I want to add something to the list." Miguel demanded.

"Hmm," Lyla appeared and started to work, "Oh, looks like she is in recording mode with her AI. Let me patch us in-"

"Ly'a, don't! That's her-"

"Hah, ah~ M-Miguel..."

Miguel froze as Lyla hacked into your recording AI. His eyes widen and cock harden as you laid on your bed, fingered working furiously against your clit. Your body arching as you whimpered moans and cries of his name.

"Ah~ R-Right there....mhm~ h-harder M-Miguel...f-fill me up~!" You cried out before reaching your orgasm.

Miguel shuddered in awe as he watched your pussy spasm and clench to air. Your breathing heavy as you laid down to rest. You took a moment to sit up, whining softly before complaining that you needed to stop thinking about Miguel since he could never be yours.

Oh how wrong you were.

Miguel had Lyla turn everything off. He logged out and hurried out of Alchemax. How could he work when there was a beauty such as yourself desperate for his dick? Miguel had been wanting to make you his since the moment you spoke to him.

Hopefully you were ready for him.

----------

You laid on your bed, sniffing your thoughts away. Your recording ended much differently than you would like. Luckily it was your own personal diary, but you still should probably delete it in case something ever happens.

Upon hearing a knock at your door, you scurried to grab a robe. Who could it be at this late hour? Poking through your door peep hole, you gasped as Miguel stood in front of your door. Hurrying to open, you nearly forget about your exposed self,

"M-Miguel?! W-What....What are you doing here?" You asked with a squeak.

"Sorry-" Miguel glanced down at you, "I, um...came here without thinking."

"Oh...Well..." You could feel your heart racing a mile a minute, "W-Why don't you come in...let me get you some water."

---------

How could you be so carefree? There you were, in nothing but a robe, after just fucking yourself to him. If Miguel didn't have his spider powers this might have been a different scene playing out. Oh, the temptation to pin you against the counter and fuck you stupid.

"Actually...I need to confess something to you."

Miguel needed to control himself. Perhaps he could tease you a bit about what he saw. Perhaps he could make this a bit more natural and playful.

"Lyla-My AI, may have accidently showed me something that is confidential for you." Miguel said as he cleared his throat. The blood had drained from your face,

"L-Like?!"

"Like," Miguel smiled as he hovered over your trembling body, "You crying out so sweetly."

"Ah!" You covered your face as it turned bright red. Miguel leaned down, chuckling lowly,

"Who would have thought those hands of yours could move so fast?"

"M-Miguel-"

"I couldn't help but feel awful for putting you in such a....position," Miguel nibbled against your ear, hearing you whine, "Such a quiet girl making those noises...how naughty."

-------

You could feel your head spinning as Miguel pressed his body against yours. The warmth of his body engulfing yours as his voice whispered against your ear. Everything about this scene was making you wet.

"How long have you been thinking about me?" Miguel chuckled as his hands circled around your waist,

"Mhm~ A long time," You admitted, feeling flustered by his teasing.

"Oh? Do you touch yourself like that every night?"

Your robe was starting to come undone as your body went on full display for Miguel. His head against your head, causing you to press your chest against his.

"Y-Yes," You stuttered.

"How naughty."

Miguel chuckled once more as he kissed your neck. Your robe had fallen on the floor and Miguel's hands were firmly on your waist. His leg pushed forward, causing your pussy to sit against it. You whimpered a whine as he kept pushing his leg against your wet cunt.

"What an honest body," Miguel hummed as his hands grouped your breasts, "And here I was about to ask if you want me to stop."

"No." You begged before tugging against his sleeve, "Please...Please fuck me."

-------

This was heaven on earth. Never had you thought this moment was ever going to happen.

However, you expected it a lot faster and rougher than this.

"A-Ah~ M-Miguel~~" You cried out.

Miguel was hovered over your naked body like a god. Your legs were thrown over his shoulder and his cock was deep inside you. Miguel's body was even more perfect than you ever dreamed of. His dick was far bigger than your wildest dreams.

"Hm? Don't like it slow?" Miguel chuckled lowly as he slowly pulled out with a grunt, "Your pussy is sucking me in so much. Thought I give it a nice treat."

"Hah~ s-so deep..." You whimpered as he pushed himself back in.

Miguel's slow movements was making your body heated. The tight knot in your stomach was far different from what you've ever done to yourself. His dick was kissing every part of your pussy you didn't even know existed.

"Awe, about to cum?" Miguel asked as you shivered from his slow thrust.

You wanted him to ravish you. You wanted him to make you see stars, not make you go crazy. Gasping as Miguel rubbed your clit, you cried as you gushed all over his cock. Your walls sucking him in more, begging for him to fill you.

Miguel could only chuckle as he kissed your body. His hands roaming everywhere as you calmed down from your high. Miguel pressed his hips closer, hitting you deeper than what he was prior. You flung your head back, moaning in pleasure.

"Is this everything you've ever dreamed of?" Miguel asked with a soft pant.

"Mhm~"

You were squirming slightly as Miguel continued his slow, yet deep thrusts inside you. Your vision was slightly blurry as your body started to shiver, but you could have sworn that Miguel was groaning. He wanted to go faster too.

"M-Miguel...y-you can...mhm~ go r-rough~" You cooed. Miguel licked your neck, biting against it softly,

"You better not regret it then."

Before you could say a word, you gasped and moaned loudly as Miguel's pace became rough. His dick slamming into your gummy walls, making loud lewd sounds filled the room. Your juices soaking the bed sheets under you as he kept hitting that sweet spot you've gone nuts over.

Your moans became loud and pornographic as Miguel gave you no time to rest. You had cummed again, coating his cock white as he continued to ram into you. You body shaking and jolting with each thrust as your sensitivity grew.

"How lewd," Miguel groaned against your ear as his hips slapped into yours, "Don't know bout you, but I wouldn't mind getting used to this."

"Ah~ Mhm~ Y-Yes!" You cried out.

Miguel chuckled as you started to arch your back. Your expression getting more expressive as you started to get fucked out. Biting his lower lip, Miguel grunted as he bottomed out inside of you. His eyes sparkled as your mouth made a cute 'o' form.

"Now, how could I stop with just one?"

You gasped, gripping onto the bedsheets as Miguel flipped you over. Your head pressed against the pillow as he went balls deep inside you. Your body shaking in rhythm to his rough thrusts as you enjoyed the feeling of his cum pouring inside you.

"Ah~ Mig~"

You were in heaven. All you could focus on was how good your pussy felt with each thrust. How good Miguel was at hitting each sweet spot you had. You shook in pleasure as you felt Miguel cum inside you again, groaning to your moans.

"(Y/N), next time you think of me....call me so I can show you how to feel good."

"Yesh~" You cooed.

-------

Miguel chuckled as you fell asleep after his last load. Honestly, he could keep going with his stamina, but you weren't ready for that yet. Carefully picking you up, Miguel made sure to wash you up and change your bedsheets before tucking you in.

He may have went a little overboard. But you didn't mind. Smiling as he covered you in the blanket, Miguel kissed your head before heading out.

"See you tomorrow, (Y/N)."

Of course, Miguel took your panties home as a souvinier.

You weren't the only one who had wet dreams.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you enjoyed!

#spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel o'hara

[munsonsmixtapes]

First Time

Find part two here!

virgin!Eddie x experienced!fem!reader

since smut won the poll, heres what I came up with!

summary: you hook up with a very inexperienced Eddie in a club bathroom

cw: MDNI 18+ smut (p in v) oral (m receiving) Eddie receives a handjob

The club was very overcrowded with dancing bodies covering the dance floor. You had a drink in your hand and were dancing the night away without a care in the world. By that time in the night, you usually had someone to take home, but you came up empty handed. Nobody looked good. They were all either drunk off their asses or definitely looked like they’d slip something into your drink when you weren’t looking.

You scanned the place one last time, deciding that if you didn’t find anyone, you’d just go home by yourself, your only company being your fingers and vibrator. They did the job just fine, but sometimes you just didn’t want to fall asleep alone.

You noticed a table that was to the far left. Four men were sitting at it, laughing their asses off about something while sipping from their drinks. Your eyes locked on the one with curly hair, deciding that he was the one. He was so pretty and definitely your type. As you got closer, you could see that he had a beard which made you even more attracted to him.

You could practically imagine his beard scraping your chin and above your top lip as he kissed you roughly, his fingers digging into your hips as he tried to pull you closer.

As you approached the table, you noticed the small silver hoop looped through the right side of his nose. You loved men with piercings, finding them to be very attractive. Everyone at the table but him looked your way, all curious as to who you were going to talk to.

“Hey handsome,” you greeted but he still wasn’t making eye contact with you, almost as if he was avoiding it. The Black guy sitting next to him nudged his shoulder and he turned in his direction, only for his friend to point to you.

“Me?” He seemed confused as he pointed at himself, his eyebrows furrowing.

“You are handsome, aren’t you?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow as he got all flustered. God, he was adorable.

“I mean, I guess so,” he shrugged. You loved a modest man. Too many of them had a lot of confidence for being so mediocre.

“What’s your name?” His own name completely faded from his brain. Women didn’t usually talk to him, especially not super hot women such as yourself.

“Eddie,” the guy on the other side of him answered for him. For whatever reason, the name suited him. He looked like an Eddie.

“Well, Eddie, do you want to dance with me?” Dance? Eddie could do that to save his life, but since such a beautiful woman was asking, he had no choice but to say yes.

“He’d love to,” the same guy answered for him and pushed him up from his seat. You weren’t going to dance with him if he didn’t want to. Consent was very important and only wanted to do things with people if they were really enthusiastic about it. And that went for both inside and outside the bedroom.

“Would you?” You asked, wanting to make sure.

“I really would,” he nodded furiously and stood up from his chair, taking the hand that you were offering him.

You pulled Eddie out on the dance floor and he was quick to turn to his friends in panic. He had no idea what he was doing, but they all just gave him a reassuring thumbs up.

He liked the way your hand felt in his, all soft and warm. He let you lead him through all of the drunk, dancing bodies on the floor, just happy to be there. He tried his best to keep up with how fast your legs were moving. There was no way that he was losing you in the crowd. He could barely handle going to clubs with his friends, let alone by himself.

This whole thing was so overstimulating; the lights, the loud music and the people yelling over the loud music. Eddie hated it, but he only went because his friends liked it. While they danced, he sat at the table, throwing back glasses of whiskey like they were going out of style.

But there he was, actually getting his ass out onto the floor because you had asked him. He had denied so many invitations because he was afraid of looking stupid or being made fun of which had just been a product of not being desired in his youth. He was the freak, a loser, a person who just wasn’t worth anyone’s time. So why did he think that he was worth yours?

You stopped in the center of the floor and turned your back to him, taking no time to grind your ass on his dick to the beat of the pop song that was blasting through the speakers. Eddie had no idea what he was doing, but he was loving whatever was going on.

You grabbed his hands that were still by his side and guided him to rest them on your waist. You moved to the music together and Eddie could already feel his dick getting hard at the feelings of your ass grinding against his crotch.

If you noticed, you didn’t say anything. You turned around as the song chance and draped your arms around his shoulders. Eddie’s hands ended up on your ass when you moved in his arms and quickly slid his hands up to your back, thinking that it was a safe place for them.

“You’re quite the dancer, Eddie,” you smiled and he was grateful that you couldn’t see his blush in the terrible club lighting. He knew you were lying but he appreciated the compliment. He couldn’t dance to save his life and was sure that you agreed.

“Oh, am I?” He sounded so unsure and you thought it was refreshing that a man as attractive as him had no idea how good he was at anything.

“Definitely,” you nodded then leaned closer, your lips right by your ear. “You know, I can take care of that little problem in your pants if you’d like.” He felt a shiver run down his spine at both your breath and thinking about you “taking care” of his boner.

The thought made him kind of nervous. He didn’t have any sexual experience, hell, he hadn’t even kissed anyone since Josie Geller when he was thirteen and that hadn’t really counted. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had offers, he’d had many, but his insecurity always got the best of him. He was just convinced that it was all a prank and was quick to shut it down, not wanting to fall for anything like that again. He had had enough tin high school.

But for some reason, he has fully believed that you were being genuine. He could see the look in your eyes; it was excited and full of lust. You had to be telling the truth. Either that, or you were just a really good actress and he didn’t think that was the case.

“I would love that.” His words came out breathy and rushed and he hoped that you couldn’t see how desperate he was for you to help him with his little problem.

You took him by the hand and the two of you made a beeline for the bathroom. Eddie was almost giggling while you kept it cool. You had had your fair share of bathroom sex while he hadn’t had sex period. It was almost funny how opposite you were.

You pushed the women’s bathroom door open and checked to make sure no one else was in there before pushing him into one of the stalls. Eddie pressed his hands against the walls so he wouldn’t fall into the toilet while you locked the door and turned around to face him, your eyes lighting up as you took him in.

He was so hot even in the dark of the bathroom stall with the way his messy, curly hair that you just wanted to run your hands through, giving it a tug as pounded into you. Your gaze moved to his pretty pink lips and you could see that they were a bit chapped but you hardly minded. You just needed to feel them on yours.

You leaned forward, but Eddie put his hand on your shoulder to stop you. He took a deep breath before licking his lips, preparing himself to tell you the truth. He felt he owed that to you.

“Before we start anything, I should tell you that I’m a virgin.” Your eyes widened, now feeling guilty for pulling him into the stall. You pulled your hands away, backing up to the door, trying your best to give him space in the small area.

“Oh my god, I-I had no idea.” You put your hands up to your face to cover it, but Eddie quickly pulled them away.

“How could you have known?” Eddie wasn’t going to blame you for something you didn’t know. He just wanted you to be aware of the situation before you continued.

“We don’t-we don’t have to-”

“But I want to.” Even though Eddie didn’t know you, he still felt like he could trust you, not getting a single feeling in his gut like he had all the other times women approached him. It just felt right being there with you and he was hoping you felt the same.

“You do?” You wanted to be one hundred percent certain before you continued, wanting him to be absolutely sure that it was what he wanted.

“So badly. I mean,” his snapped to his still very hard dick and your gaze followed. “Still want to take care of it for me?”

“You’re sure you want to lose it to a stranger?” Eddie stepped closer to you so that you were chest to chest. He looked at you, taking in all your features and now that he was looking at you up close, he could confirm that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and couldn’t have been more honored to have you take his virginity.

“I’m sure.” He gave you a nod and you slowly moved your arms to wrap around his neck while his went to your waist. You slowly inched your face towards his, capturing his bottom lip between your two.

He was quick to respond, mimicking your actions, hoping that he was as good at it as you were. He honestly had no idea what he was doing, but he was confident that you’d teach him, showing him exactly what he needed to do so he was fully prepared for next time.

The kiss slowly progressed to hot and heavy as you swiped your tongue along Eddie’s bottom lip. He opened up and let his tangle with yours, a whimper escaping from the back of his throat as he did so. His eyes widened at the noise and he pulled away, covering his mouth with his hand.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” you told him softly. “Make as much noise as you want. And actually, I found that really hot.” Even though first times could be awkward for some, you wanted Eddie’s to be memorable for him. Something he could look back on positively and not in embarrassment.

“Oh.” His cheeks burned at your compliment and you thought it was adorable how you could make him blush so easily.

“Wanna make it again?” Eddie thought for a moment and decided that he did, especially since you thought it sounded hot.

“I do, actually,” he nodded and your lips were back on his in a second. You licked into his mouth once again and he let out another whimper, not holding it back this time. You felt your cunt getting wet at hearing the noise and you slow moved your hand down his chest, stopping right when it got to his belt buckle.

You pulled away and looked at him for permission. He nodded his head furiously, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and you slowly unbuckled his belt, giving him plenty of time to back out if he wanted to. You pulled down his pants and let them his the tops of his shoes before shimmying his underwear down his legs. You let out a gasp at how big he was, feeling honored that you were the first one that he was going to let touch it.

“Wow,” you said, looking back up at his eyes. “You really are huge, aren’t you? I’m going to consider myself grateful that you’re going to let me take care of it.”

“Wouldn’t want it to be anyone else, to be honest.”

Beads of pre were falling from the head and you looked around for your purse that had fallen to the floor at some point. You pulled out a small bottle of lube and put some in one of your hands before letting it and your purse to fall back to the floor.

You stepped forward and grabbed hold of Eddie’s dick, moving your hand up and down the shaft slowly to test the waters to see if he liked it. His hands moved to hold on to the wall as he threw his head back. A moan fell from his lips and you were convinced that you hadn’t heard anything hotter.

You continued to pump, making your movements harder and faster at his commands, wanting him to be in control and tell you what he wanted. Moan after moan fell from his lips and now you felt like he was ready for more.

“Can I suck you off?” You asked, your hand slowing down, but still moving at a good pace. Eddie still had his head titled backwards, his eyes closed and you felt yourself getting even more wet at seeing him like that, coming undone from your touch.

“God, please,” he groaned and you slowly dropped to your knees.

Your hand wrapped around the base and you took him into your mouth giving his dick a suck while your tongue swirled around the head. Eddie’s hands pressed flat against the stall as he threw his head back even more at the pleasure he was experiencing. God, this was so much better than using his hand.

“Shit,” he moaned, his breath becoming heavy. He closed his eyes, trying hard to prevent his knees from buckling. “Fuck.”

You continued to suck, taking all of him into your mouth, ignoring the fact that your eyes were watering, desperate to give him the best head of his life. Your tongue swiped along to tip another time as you sucked the hardest you could, eliciting the prettiest sounds from Eddie.

For the finale, you stood up and gently pulled down on his chin to force him to look at you. His eyes opened and he watched you swallow, feeling his knees buckle as you did so. God, you were so fucking hot.

“Fuck,” he moaned and pulled you into a kiss, his beard scratching roughly at your skin as he took what he wanted from you, you happy to be pliant under his touch. His hands moved down to your pants and you let him unbutton them, pushing them down so they hit your ankles and you kicked them off, leaving them in a small pile next to you.

“Is that all for me?” Eddie asked, his lips parting as he stared down at the wet patch that had dampened your underwear.

“And only for you,” you winked. “You think you’re ready to get inside me?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” he breathed.

You pulled a condom from your purse and opened it before sliding it onto his cock. Once he was all set, you stepped forward, helping him line up with your pussy. He then slowly entered you, the two of you letting out moans as he did so.

He grabbed onto your waist and slowly pumped in and out of you, trying to feel it out for himself. You moaned as he pumped, closing your eyes in pleasure as you grabbed onto his neck.

“Am I doing this right?” He asked, unsure and you just moaned in response.

“Oh, Eddie.”

He began to moved a little faster which elicited more moans from you as you wound your hands into his hair, giving it tug after tug. You both moved together, feeling nothing but pleasure as he began to pound into you.

“Just like that, baby, yeah,” you whined and Eddie continued, feeling super confident about his movements, knowing that you’d let him know if you didn’t like something.

Sex was far better than he thought it was going to be, but he was sure that it was all because of you. You had been nothing but sweet and kind and made him feel like a king. How was he going to have sex with anyone else when his first time was practically perfect.

“Oh my god, I think I’m gonna-” he cut himself off as he reached his climax, suddenly feeling embarrassed that it had happened so quick.

“That’s right, honey,” you told him. “Let it out. You’re doing so well.”

“But I finished.” You honestly couldn’t have cared less how quickly he had finished. That just meant that you could have gone for round two that much faster if he was up for it.

“That’s okay,” you assured him as he pulled out. “Do you wanna…take this back to my place? I think it’d be more preferable to being here.”

“I’d love to go back to your place.” He pulled the condom off of his cock and tied it off before disposing of it. He then pulled up his underwear and pants before buckling his belt.

“Do you want to call a cab while I clean myself up here?” You asked and Eddie just nodded silently. You both shuffled around the stall so he could get to the door. You pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before he opened the door. He then stepped out and pulled out his phone to call the cab company while you took a piss then cleaned yourself up.

You were confident that you had just had the best sex of your life. Who knew that a virgin knew exactly how to make you cum as opposed to men who slept around all the time? Maybe it was because he was actually interested in pleasing you.

As Eddie ordered the cab, he couldn’t help but let the images of you orgasming flash in his head. It was the hottest thing hearing you moan like that and he was looking forward to hearing it again and again even after the night was over. Maybe if he played his cards right, you’d invite him over again.

You exited the bathroom as Eddie hung up the phone and placed your lips on his, pulling him in for a sweet kiss that has been the exact opposite of the last one you had given him.

“C’mon,” you reached for his hand once you pulled away. “Let get out of here.” He put his hand in yours and you led him out of the bathroom and through the club, confident that you’d make his second time even better than the first.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #virgin!eddie munson #experienced!reader #virgin!eddie munson x experienced!reader

[taigarrryen]

In the hallway of Sheriff-2, about twenty minutes after the landing, Skizz is shakily making his way from his cabin back to the main deck, bag on each shoulder. He looks like he was fighting for his life just minutes ago, tired and pale. He really doesn't like having to deal with zero-gravity.

Norman, on the other hand, looks completely unbothered by the mayhem they've been through for the past hour.

From the command room, Jimmy's guiltily smiling face pokes out into the corridor.

JIMMY: There he isss! Look at that confident walk! What a champ. And all packed up already?

SKIZZ: Dude, at this point I'm ready to make a run for it. I swear, if I'll not see land in the next ten minutes...

JIMMY: Alright, alright! Geez. C'mon then, they're already waiting for us anyway. And their stuff. Mainly their stuff.

SKIZZ: Well, hey. I don't know about you, but I'd consider myself anticipated.

JIMMY (looking somewhat pained) : I'd consider you lucky you've never dealt with guys named Grian or Docm not getting their equipment.

Jimmy dissapears in the command room, pushes some buttons, blurts something into his mic and quickly reappears in the hallway.

They go to the main hatch, occasionally throwing one-liners at eachother, and on the way there, from the passing narrow portholes, Skizz sees Minecrea upclose for the first time. Huge, seemingly endless landing pad, pale-green skies and hills, hills, hills with far away mountains... He stops for a moment, mesmerized. There, in the flat field of dark concrete, he notices several unloader bots, parked ELYTRa and a human figure approaching their ship.

Moments later, Jimmy opens a hatch to the entrance compartment. Door unlocks and locks again with a low thump. Entrance compartment fills with greetings. Skizz walks in and smiles.

Smiling back at him is clean-shaved Impulse in an oxygen-filter mask.

IMPULSE: Welcome to Minecrea, man!

Skizz gives him a bear-hug.

SKIZZ: It's so good to see you!

IMPULSE: Yeah, I know! It's been a minute, hasn't it? How was your flight?

SKIZZ: Pfft, fantastic. Easy. When's the next one?

JIMMY: Nah, he did good for the first time!

IMPULSE (with a smirk) : Really? Jimmy, did-

Communicator on Impulse's belt makes a beeping sound.

[???]: Impulse, I'm sorry, but we really need you back here for a moment. It's blinking again...

Impulse shoots a slightly irritated look at it and sighs.

IMPULSE (to communicator) : Got it, we're on our way. Tell X I've turned on unloaders.

IMPULSE: Argh, sorry. You guys arrived in a very... Well, we are kind of in the middle of something here. There's this comet flying by very soon, and all of our scientists are going crazy about it. We're helping them out as best as we can, but... Yeah, a bit of a hassle, anyway.

JIMMY: Oh, that comet? I nearly forgot! Now, excuse me, gentlemen, I was promised a first-class view on this thing three months ago, so let's move.

IMPULSE: Where, at Tango's?

JIMMY: Yes, sir! But I'll come say hi to Grian and Scar anyway.

Impulse reaches and grabs one of Skizz's bags from him. A couple of minutes later, all three of them, equipped with oxygen-filter masks, are making their way to Impulse's ELYTRa, chatting as they go. The concrete under their feet is still warm after contact with nozzles of spacecraft.

Part 1 | AU Intro post

Audio for this post (in a form of a stinky youtube link because tumblr hates fun. Please check it out for full expirience)

#satellite hermits au #taigartyen #hermitblr #skizzleman #impulsesv #jimmy solidarity #hermitcraft

[risuola]

ENTRY #8 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU

You said you love me, I heard it between the lines.

contents: arranged marriage!au, it gets a little steamy, reader discretion is advised — 2,5k words

a/n: longer part, little steam, some more confused fools in love, what else can we want ♡ i kinda enjoy writing the story a little more from satoru's pov, i hope you don't mind! also, the wedding picture that my friend draw for me is here for anyone interested!

series masterlist

You love him.

Well, technically, you didn’t say you love him. You were tidying just next to him, wiping the dust off the shelves and he was on the couch, doing paperwork that might’ve been — and most likely were — partially responsible for his poor mood. He hated paperwork and ironically, Yaga loved giving him a fair share of it — it was fair, he knew that. His missions, his forms to fill but couldn’t Ijichi take care of it–

“We should retake that picture one day,” he heard you muse and he didn’t need to look up to know what picture you had in mind. You had, after all, just one picture together and it was taken forcefully as a proof of your marriage, right after the ceremony. He was in a suit, black and crisp, looking good as always with his glasses — that he didn’t bother taking off for the photo — resting on the bridge of his nose, low enough to show a little bit of his eyes and high enough to hide the lack of amusement he felt that day. You were in front of him, partially exposing your bare back to the camera and holding a bouquet of flowers that someone got you — not him, that’s for sure. As he thought of it, you were looking stunning. Breathtaking, to say the least, in the long white dress, not too plain but definitely not overly embellished. You didn’t need to be dressed in layers of princess-worthy fabrics to look like one. The picture though — it lacked emotion. You were there with him and he was there with you, but you weren’t together on it. You were just both in the frame.

“Why would we?” He asked dryly, growing more and more irritated by the bureaucracy at hand. He was stuck on one of the points, the one he disliked the most because it required him to elaborate on something that didn’t need to be elaborated on. Why would he describe the curses he saw, evaluate their strengths and consider their techniques, when he turned them to dust before they even realized he was there?

“It would be nice to have a wedding picture with some actual love in it, not just a dry, forced pose and stone faces,” you reasoned and your voice was light, it was innocent almost as if you were speaking of something so obviously natural. As if you were not considering exchanging the picture-proof of your arranged marriage into one of real marriage.

“We’re not married for love, do I need to remind you?” Satoru scoffed. He was annoyed. At you, because you were able to make his heart beat in ways he never knew are possible and at himself — for letting that happen. Or for saying what he just said because of course you knew the marriage wasn’t based on love and it didn’t change the fact you just allowed your mouth to slip away words that shouldn’t be slipped. He was annoyed because you shouldn’t feel that way, because he wasn’t ready to hear it, because he’s a coward.

But, instead of getting annoyed, he heard you chuckling. It was an odd point in your marriage. You were closer, the closest you’ve been until now, but the feelings that were undeniably blooming underneath the surface had to force their way through the layer of sarcasm he and you spread out thickly over the course of past weeks. You were still foreign to affection but curiously exploring the topic with each other and Satoru was suffering severe heart palpitations because of it. You seemed to enjoy it though — your smiles and very purposeful touches were enough of a proof of it.

Satoru sometimes wished he could fluster you just as you fluster him and he would give the world to see your face tinted with deep, red blush because of him. He will see you like this one day, but for now, you were still learning to express civil behaviors in the confines of your shared house. You called it a success that fights were much rarer now than at the beginning; perhaps you grew accustomed to the amount of snarkiness and irony or maybe it mellowed down. Maybe the fact that you were spending more and more time together, now working at school side by side, had something to do with the much warmer relation shyly building itself up between you, or maybe it’s because of the long, late night talks you share every night when he’s laying in bed with you.

“Oh, you really should shut up sometimes,” you said and he felt you approaching.

“I should, huh?” He rolled his eyes and smirked, eager to put down the papers and pay his attention to you. His eyes, that first landed on your legs, moved up following the shape of your body until he met your gaze. “And who are you to order me such things?”

“Your wife, Satoru, we’re married, as you probably noticed,” you snapped back, but something in the tone of your voice told him, you’re not as bothered as the bite of your words suggested.

“Married,” he said, humming. His smirk faltered just slightly and for a second, he was silenced by your presence. He couldn’t bring himself to fight against it. “And hating every second of it.” But he’d still reached forward to take your hand.

This time, it's you who rolled eyes but you allowed your fingers to intertwine with his. You sat down next to him, dropping your weight onto the soft, bouncy cushions and positioning yourself in a way to be able to face him. The top of your knee met the side of his thigh and Gojo put the pile of formalities to the side. “You are annoying, you know that, right?”

“I’ve been told,” Satoru said, his mouth twitching into a small smile. “Several times. By you, actually.” He chuckled and shifted a little on the couch. His free arm was rested along the backrest and he leaned his head back, giving you a sideways look. “But I know I am,” he teased with a smirk now fully bloomed on his features. “I’m glad you’re at least acknowledging it.”

“Kinda hard to miss when it’s written all over your face,” you teased him back and he laughed, running his thumb along the side of your hand. Then, he was rubbing small circles onto your skin, grazing over the delicate spots of your wrist.

“Oh? You’ve been paying more attention to me than I thought.”

“You really need to shut up,” you sighed, exhaling slowly in feigned annoyance, but you were clearly amused by his antics and he was growing amused too. Gojo was testing you, seeing how far you were willing to push him. He had every intention of testing your boundaries, pushing your buttons. He was curious, excited even, to see where it could go. You were incredible, Satoru thought, because weeks before he was sure he was going to break you, get you to back off, but you just kept coming at him. He wasn’t complaining.

“But I don’t want to,” he said, his tone teasing as he leaned towards you, bringing his face inches from yours. Your eyes met and the air got a little thicker, a little more warm. “What are you gonna do about it?” His voice was quiet, murmur-like, challenging. He didn’t let go of your wrist or stop the soft circles of his thumb.

“Easy,” you scoffed, but a smile tugged on the corners of your mouth when you leaned in as well. Your head tilted and then, your lips were just breath away from his own. “I’ll shut you myself,” you whispered, right against his face.

Satoru nearly lost it when he felt your breath on his lips. His heart seemed to skip a beat, this wasn’t how he thought this conversation would go, but he wasn’t exactly complaining. He wasn’t supposed to get jealous, to want you, to need you, but now that you were this close, there was no way he was going to let it end here.

He leaned a little closer as well, closing the distance just a bit more. He was practically asking for your lips to meet and the way your voice teased him when you whispered– oh, the man was getting weak. For the first time, he was speechless. His eyes drifted shut, the feel of your lips so close being enough to set him on fire. The silence hung in the air for only a moment before he pulled you to him, his mouth crashing into yours. He wanted to feel you against him as much as he could. One of his hands went to the back of your head and he began to pull you even tighter.

And you purred. Climbing on top of him, straddling his lap and the moment your legs gripped onto his, every thought was lost, every desire was awakened. One of his arms naturally shifted to pull you against his body and the other was in your hair, tangled within the strands. He felt the heat of you on his chest, he felt you on top of him and in his mind, there was no place he wanted you more. Satoru couldn't get enough of you, of being close.

His back was against the couch, he was kissing you roughly, almost desperately as if there was no air on the planet anymore and you were the only saving grace. He had waited so long to do this, wished for it. Every morning he spent looking at your calm, sleeping face he wondered what would you do if he made a move, if he kissed you softly, if he woke you up with his touch.

And now that it was happening.

He didn’t want to waste a single second. Your hands run over his shoulders and brushed through his hair, pulling and tugging them ever so slightly and he shivered from how close to the edge it brought him. Your touch was electric, sending tendrils of pleasure right through his system, filling his veins with something warm and unknown, making him lose himself into the feeling.

Your tongues met, exploring each other and he was focused on the taste of your lips, the sharpness of your teeth closing teasingly on his lower lip from time to time, the sound of your breathing and how soft and smooth your skin was against his own. Your nose was brushing against his every time you shifted your head and each movement made him want more. He felt like he could spend the rest of his life kissing you.

Satoru’s hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer and he leaned forward, pressing himself against you. He had a good bit more muscle than you and he wasn’t afraid to use it if it meant pulling you even closer, leaving no space between. Your body fit with his, the two of you like puzzle pieces fitting together in the perfect spot.

His hands were moving, following the shapes of you, learning them as his fingers were brushing your sides, his thumb sliding along your back. He gripped your waist a little harder and then, his mouth fell to your neck. You whimpered and a small groan escaped his lips as he kissed you there, his lips and tongue making their way to the soft, delicate skin behind your ear and you gasped on air when his teeth grazed the shell of your lobe.

Your fingers tightened on the muscles of his shoulders, searching for a way to ground yourself and you struggled to stay present, when he made it so easy to get lost.

A smile tugged on Gojo’s lips, he felt how hot your cheek was against the side of his head when he peppered tender kisses along the side of your neck. Then, he pulled away from you for a moment, breathing heavily. His eyes flickered over your face, taking in the sight of you before they dropped to your mouth once more. You were so pretty like this, panting and with your lips parted and swollen, red and glistening with saliva. You were so gorgeous with blush spilled over your complexion, with your half-lidded eyes and your arms around him.

His hands were still on your waist, and his lips found yours again — just as hungry and desperate as it was before.

“God,” he breathed, between one kiss and another. His voice was rough and gruff, carried by the heavy breaths and want. “I can’t believe I’m married to you,” he said, his tone full of awe. “Positive.”

He felt your lips curve upwards and your body squirm against him, and that was enough to make him almost lose control over himself. His hand moved from your waist to the hem of your shirt, moving it just enough to get access to the skin beneath it. He kept kissing you and his fingers were shifting from the hem back to your waist, then back again. You were so soft, and his entire body was filled with the urge to explore it. To taste it. To learn it.

He leaned back just slightly, breaking the kiss and you let out a soft sigh. Your cheek was now pressed against his shoulder, your face exposed. He rested his head against yours, his eyes fluttered shut and all he could hear was a mixture of breaths and his own heart.

“We should stop,” he whispered, sighing and you hummed, nuzzling your nose into his neck, kissing him there.

And like that, Satoru melted.

His body relaxed against yours once more. The breath he took was long and shaky, the sensation of your lips on his neck making his brain short circuit. Any thought he’d had of actually stopping threatened to fell to the wayside.

“We should really stop,” he repeated, louder this time, but he wasn’t making any attempts to move you off his lap. His hands gripped you a little more instead. “You’re gonna make me lose control.”

“Isn’t that a tempting thought,” you teased, the softest mischief lining your tone and you gave the side of his neck a little kitten-lick. Satoru groaned when your tongue touched his neck. His hold tightened on you, his fingers digging into your waist.

“Oh god, don’t do that,” he whispered, sounding desperate. His arm came up to brush your hair out of your face and he leaned his head to the side, giving you better access to his neck, despite all of his instincts telling him to not do that.

“Don’t do what?” Your voice rumbled against his flesh, the sensitive area leading from his ear to his shoulder vulnerable and exposed to your whims.

"That."

"That?"

Gojo jolted the moment your teeth sunk into his skin, just barely hard enough to leave a mark and it made him lose it. With a deep groan, his head shot upwards. The hand that had been running through your hair now gripped your hip, and in an instant, he had you flipped so you were flat on your back, him on top and the papers he’s got from Yaga long forgotten and spread all over the floor.

He’ll worry about them later.

Now: you.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie

#𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲 ♡ #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru x y/n #gojo arranged marriage #jjk arranged marriage #gojo fluff #gojo fanfiction #gojo satoru fluff #satoru fluff #jjk fluff

[asapeveryday]

SHOCK FACTOR ★彡 PART 4

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Rival!Reader

Warnings: swearing

A/n: I hate this ngl 😣 didn’t turn out that great. I swear I’ll do better

“ITS TEN PM, why the fuck are you at my hotel right now?”

Elaine gives an unbothered look at your harsh tone, which shocks you because she’s usually more reactive.

“Seriously?” You scoff. She’d been standing stupidly outside of your door for god knows how long, spamming your phone with messages you didn’t see due to Paige taking it. “You don’t even have a key to my room…what did you think you’d accomplish?”

“It’s a Saturday night, I thought I’d take you out.” She rolls her eyes. “Plus I know your teammates are partying right now. Sorry I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“Well maybe I would’ve liked to be alone, since I didn’t answer the 40 texts and calls you gave me.” You say, opening the room up and stepping inside, letting her follow behind. If you were going to argue it wouldn’t be in the hallway for everyone to hear.

“Well you weren’t alone, were you?” Elaine quips with a rude tone that is foreign for you to hear from her.

“So what if I wasn’t?” You narrow your eyes. “I didn’t come to Connecticut just to see you.”

She’s immediately stung by this, and you feel bad for a split second until she retaliates. “Well you came to Storrs for me, right? Unless you were just trying to fuck Paige Bueckers and leave. You and your little fake arguments, you sure you’re not covering up for something?”

“You’re kidding.” You laugh at her, but it’s uncomfortable. “You think I’m faking my arguments to cover up some elaborate hookup? Shit, you’re crazy.”

“I’m not fucking crazy,” Elaine voice raises above yours, clearly hurt by the comment. “I don’t know why you’re all over the chick, and going out to dinner with her? It’s weird.”

“I don’t know why you care so much. That’s what’s weird.”

“I just think you should keep your distance from Paige.” She says, quieter. “The media has been all over you two, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but it’s overwhelming.”

“Obviously not if I don’t know this already.” You raise your eyebrow. “Guess it’s been overwhelming for you though.”

Elaine is quiet for a moment, arms crossed in an attempt to comfort herself. “I’m sorry.” She says. “I guess I’ve just been jealous. You came to see me after like a year, and I kinda felt like you were more focused on Paige then me.”

At the thought of this you immediately feel awful. You hadn’t seen Elaine for a long time, and when you have been with her you were admittedly distracted.

“I’m sorry Lainey.” You sigh out. “I haven’t been here long…It’s just been a lot. We have the rest of the week.” You hold out your arms and she gladly hugs you tight.

“I’m not gonna lie,” you mumble against her “I thought you were mad about Paige for a whole other reason.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” You shake your head, brushing off the thoughts of her jealousy being a little different from how she explained. “Let’s go out. I need a drink.”

-

You tried to go out and have fun, but your mind kept wandering to earlier. Paige’s hands on your face, her mouth hovering above yours, her eyes staring through you. The memory of her knuckles white and wrapped around the steering wheel as she drove you back home, a pent up expression on her face.

You weren’t sure if she was so annoyed because your moment with her was interrupted, or because Elaine was the one who interrupted it. Despite Paige dismissing your friend, and Elaine seemingly missing your company, you knew there was something going on between them. You just weren’t sure what, and the shots you’d done didn’t help collect your thoughts.

Elaine had been with you for a bit, but eventually went off on her own to get detrimentally more drunk then you planned on getting. You were sitting at a table alone and sipping when you got a notification.

paigebueckers is going live!

You switch to a burner account before joining the live and being greeted with Paige’s straight face reading comments while KK hung out in the background. You felt pathetic watching her live anonymously, but you needed to see her.

“Someone said ‘Ain’t it too late for ya’ll?’” Paige scoffs, turning to KK

“Girl, it’s a Saturday. Who you think we are?” KK quips back, enticing a chuckle from Paige that makes your stomach flutter.

They take turns answering questions; Paige gracefully dodging the less appropriate ones and KK occasionally reading something that makes everyone go crazy. They were so funny together you almost forgot how sad it was that you were in a bar watching their live.

KK looks at the chat for a longer moment before her eyebrows raise, mouth forming an amused smirk while glancing at Paige, who is turned away from the phone and looking at something off screen.

“Aye Paige, someone said ‘u still beefin’ with (name)?’”

Paige flashes a dangerous look to KK who unsurprisingly cowers a bit, but she turns towards the camera and rubs her face sheepishly while responding. “S’ not really beef. We jus don’t get along.”

“Oh?” KK responds, this obviously being news to her.

Blue eyes finally meet the camera, and you almost feel like she’s staring right at you when she says “and I’m tired of people comparing me to her. We are not on the same level.” Paige lets out an entitled huff. “It’s embarrassing. People think just cus we talked like twice we’re equal.”

KK nudges her quickly. “She don’t mean that ya’ll.” She says nervously.

“Nah, I do. I mean she’s not bad. She just don’t got nothing on me.” Paige shrugs. “She’s boring. No shock factor.”

“Aight ya’ll I think that’s it for tonight.” KK says curtly, eyeing Paige. The live ends in an instant, and you’re left feeling hurt, embarrassed, confused and angry. This didn’t feel like an attack on your skill as a basketball player. It was more personal, and Paige knows it.

Your mind is racing from the countless drinks, loud atmosphere and eventful live you’d just watched. You shoot Juju a text and ask her to go live with you, and she surprisingly responds in an instant. The viewers are scarily high right from the get go.

“Who came here from Paige’s live?”

“Ain’t no way she’s at a bar rn”

“Aye (name) how’s Connecticut?”

“lowk think her and Paige are hooking up”

“juju can you say hi pls”

“Hey guys.” You mutter, attempting to steady your voice. Juju raises an eyebrow at your state. “You sure you shud be on live right now?” She asks. “Who’re you even with?”

“Never mind that.” You shake your head, reading through the comments. “Hiii guys. Connecticut’s alright, Storrs is a shithole though.” You laugh.

“Missing California?” Juju asks.

Sighing, you reply “Very much so.”

“Sooo, let’s talk bout your new friend!” Juju smirks, most probably unaware of Paige’s newest comment about you.

“And who would that be?”

“Paige Bueckers, duh. Must be nice to see her in person outside of the court.” Juju says innocently, not paying attention to the increase of questions in the chat concerning Paige’s live.

“Nice isn’t quite the word I would use.” You grumble, and Juju immediately seems to regret bringing it up. She tries to save the situation by asking something else, but you interrupt her. “I think the word disappointing…or maybe shitty fits better.”

“Hah, you’re funny.” Juju attempts to seem amused, but is clearly trying to figure out how she can work in some damage control. She furiously types something out and you get a message from her a moment later

JUJU-KINS 😘

Girl get tf off of live RIGHT NOW and get yo self home and in bed. Ur so drunk.

Seen.

Ignoring the text, you continue to read questions out loud. Your body is practically on fire and you’re aware that you’re not thinking straight, but there are no intentions of stopping now. Paige certainly couldn’t have enough of talking big online, so why should you?

“‘Weren’t you just with Paige at a coffee shop yesterday?’” You read out loud. “Not intentionally.” You huff, eyebrows narrowing. “The girl can’t accept I’m tryna have a peaceful vacation. For whatever reason I keep seeing her everywhere, it’s not even funny, just fucking weird.”

“(Name) I think we should put the phone down.” Juju says quietly.

“Mm, it’s not even my problem she thinks ‘m boring anyways.” You grumble, words starting to slur. “Mayyybe I’m boring cus I don’t wanna fuckin’ talk to her n her shitty Italian restaurant.”

The chat begins to blow up at this, and it finally hits you how much damage you’ve just done. “M’kay bye.” You rush out, quickly ending the live and texting Juju back.

YOU

howw fucked am i scale of 1-10

JUJU-KINS 😘

We not even in numbers anymore atp.

Get yo ass up and go home pls. This is an issue for tmr now

Your head is starting to pound as you get up from your spot and push through people in search of Elaine, thankfully she finds you first, half stumbling-half intentionally bumping into you. She’s obviously wasted.

“Ready to go homeee?” She hiccups, accepting your hand as help to balance herself. “I’m gonna call an Uber.” You reply. “Can we wait outside?”

The two of you practically tumble out of the bar, the cold air slightly sobers you up, and clarifies your thoughts a bit. You feel yourself start to get irritated.

“Do you have to get so fuckin’ drunk every time we go out?” You huff out.

“Don’t start.” Elaine snaps. “You’re literallyyyy slurring your words.”

“At least I can walk,” you scoff. Your head is absolutely aching now, and you’re dying to be home. “You look so stupid tripping around.”

“Well you look stupid feining over Paige, goin live n shit talking her.” She retaliates.

“I’m not feining for shit.”

“You’re obsessed.” Elaine slurs. “N’ I’ll tell you what. She’s going to play your ass and you’re never gonna get over it, cus that’s what she does.”

“You know way more about her then you let on.” You narrow your eyes, unsurprised when she avoids your gaze. “How’d you even know I was out with her today anyways?”

She’s quiet, you can’t tell if she’s thinking or if she’s genuinely ignoring you.

“Elaine.” You say sharply. “How the fuck did you know I was out with Paige?”

“I have her location.” She mumbles.

“What?”

“She still shares her location me.”

“She still…” you pause, attempting to understand what she’s saying. “She shares her location with you?”

“I mean, I don’t think she knows she hasn’t turned it off.” Elaine says sheepishly. “I just happened to check n’ I saw you guys together.”

“This is so fuckin’ weird.” You scoff. “What happened to you guys barely knowing each other?”

“Yeah, well that’s what I told you.” She rolls her eyes.

“And what didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.” Elaine shrugs, eyes heavy.

“We used to fuck.”

The immediate regret on her face as the words leave her mouth makes you sick to your stomach, and a swirl of unintelligible emotions begin to manifest inside of you.

“And you didn’t tell me this because?”

“Didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

“Why’d you try to get me to flirt with her that first day at the bar?”

She shakes laughs and her head. “Didn’t think you’d actually end up talking to her, didn’t think she’d be so interested in you either. You’re not really her type.”

Exasperated and unsure how to even articulate what you’re feeling, you simply bring your hands to your face. “Do you understand how fucking weird this is?”

“Don’t get so frustrated.” She scoffs. “You’ve talked to her for like three days, n’ you thought she was a dick before this week. Don’t tell me you’re into her now.”

“It’s not even about her at this point.” You sneer. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, and I don’t know why everyone here is fucking obsessed with lying.”

When she doesn’t respond you take the opportunity to get more in, facing her now and looking down in disappointment. “I didn’t even know you liked girls, and now you’re telling me you’ve been hooking up with someone I know? God, it makes sense now why you were so quick to start insulting her the minute she showed any interest in me.”

Elaine can’t even bring herself to look at you, and the fact that she’s so drunk she might not even be digesting what you’re saying is infuriating you.

“Then you guilt trip me about not paying enough attention to you? Was that really what was bothering you, or was it the fact that she was out with me?”

Taking a deep breath, you turn your back to her and check your phone to see when your uber was coming. You also see a text message.

PAIGE

Yo

Normally you’d have ignored any message from her after today, but your mind was still racing from adrenaline and you couldn’t help but respond.

YOU

what do u want

PAIGE

Are you still at that bar?

I feel like we shud talk

YOU

you gonna tell me why you lied to my face?

i’m with Elaine rn

PAIGE

Oh uh…

I can pick both u guys up and drop her off ? If u want.

YOU

i’m not riding in the car you prolly fucked her in

bye

PAIGE

Typing…

#Spotify #fanfiction #fanfic #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #rpf #paige bueckers x reader #uconn women’s basketball #paige buckets #paige x reader #rivals to lovers #rivalry #light angst

[camidapisa]

𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓾

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ smut/NSFW, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, squirting, cursing, size kink

summary: three words: Red. Like. Passion. But red is also the color of the car driven by Charles. Red is your lingerie, as red as your dirty thoughts about the Ferrari driver…

author’s note: do not copy or give credits

The smell of alcohol, loud music, people crowded together, temperature too high: the definition of a busy night. A night in Monaco meant this to you. Boundless fun and one-night stands with whoever came along.

After your breakup with your ex-boyfriend, your sweet and delicate personality has transformed into hate and lust personified. Temptress with your gaze, you conquer every boy who looks into your eyes, driving him crazy.

This one night seems long and empty just like the others. You enter the club, approach the bar counter, and ask for a Bloody Mary. The bartender can’t take his eyes off of you because of how gorgeous you look this evening.

With your cocktail in your hands, you wander around the place feeling observed differently than on other nights. You begin to feel in awe, your skin begins to sweat for no reason. You turn around to understand the reason for all this, and you are struck by a pair of sea-colored eyes that study every curve of your body highlighted by the red silk dress you are wearing.

Brown hair. Ice eyes. Sexy body under the black shirt that struggles to contain his muscles. Who is this man? His appearance seems familiar, but you had never noticed him in the different clubs you frequent almost every night, you would have noticed his gaze and his charm.

So you decide to move in his direction casually. You walk past him and look at him with cat eyes and out of the corner of your eye, you notice him getting up from the sofa where he was sitting just a few seconds ago, following you to the bar counter. When you’re about to ask for a second drink, you hear a familiar voice say: “I’ll pay for the young lady, she’s with me, thank you”.

You turn towards him, meeting his gaze directly toward your breasts. To attract his attention you say in a confident voice: “Oh yes? So are we together? Is today our anniversary by any chance?”

The sound of his laughter sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. His aura of mystery makes you moisten between your thighs. No one had ever succeeded until now. “Who are you? Why do you seem to already have a place in my mind if I have never met you?” you think in your mind. “So what are you waiting for to drink? Are you going to stare at me all night, princess?” he says, smiling mischievously and moving his gaze toward your thighs pressed together.

Suddenly your favorite song comes on from the speakers so you take his hands, take him to the center of the dance floor, and start purposely seducing him with your sexy moves. You notice his gaze moving toward your hips and then looking at your ass every time you turn your back to him while dancing.

The atmosphere gets hotter and hotter until the sound of his sensual voice reaches your eardrums as he whispers: “How about we go away for a while, princess?”

That nickname drives you crazy, it makes you even wetter and more in need of finding out everything about the man whose name you don’t even know. Placing his hand on the lower part of your shoulder, he guides you toward the exit in a confident manner, leading you to his car.

You can’t believe your eyes: it’s a Ferrari 488 Pista, titanium-colored with a livery featuring red and white stripes reminiscent of the Monaco flag. You already saw that car before. With his hand, he motions for you to get into the car. Still shocked, you enter and observe the interior of it, just as beautiful as the owner. As you look around, you fall into the swirls of his eyes, now just millimeters away from you, which immediately bring you back to earth. Then, without asking, he starts attacking your mouth with his kisses.

You immediately turn your head slightly to allow him access to your neck. You feel his teeth on your sensitive flesh stimulating your pleasure, your nipples stiffen, and your hands tighten on the leather of the seat. His hands instead roam all over your body, exploring every area still covered by the soft fabric of your dress, which is slowly becoming more and more wrinkled due to the contact with his powerful body.

He leaves two purple marks on your neck, you still feel his warm breath near your earlobe. Without wasting time, you bring your delicate hands near the zip of his pants. You too, without asking, slowly unbutton it, until you glimpse a protuberance trapped in his Calvin Klein boxers.

Without speaking, you look him in the eyes and he responds with a nod of approval, encouraging you to continue. You quickly lower his boxers below his knees and take out his cock, already full of pulsating veins visible from afar due to how excited he is. This vision makes you feel so horny that you let out a moan of pleasure without him touching you.

You begin to move your fingers up and down his length, and then focus more on his head with circular movements. With your other hand, you stimulate his testicles so that he dies from the pleasure of having you. Watching his head go back in pleasure and his moans mixed with excitement and lust sends you into ecstasy. You bring your mouth closer to his cock, first licking it lightly and then suddenly taking it all in your mouth until it reaches your throat. This sends him into a frenzy, so much so that he can no longer feel his legs. You watch his abdomen contract and his moans become louder and louder as he holds your hair forcefully, pulling it slightly toward him to make his cock go as deep as possible into your throat.

He cums all over your mouth and hands. You look at him with eyes full of appetite and continuing to look at him you lick all the liquid from him, tasting it and swallowing it. This gesture drives him crazy enough to tear your dress and then throw it somewhere. He is shocked by the color of your lingerie. Fiery red like blood, like the stitching of the seats of his Ferrari, like the sex you are about to have. Quite violently he turns you around to unbutton your lace bra. Your lush breasts enchant him, enough to invite him to leave hickeys right next to your nipples. Your cries of pain infused with cries of pleasure are music to his ears, his favorite tune. He leaves hickeys all over your abdomen until he reaches your inner thighs. He looks at you with his icy gaze for a second, then takes your thong with his teeth and pulls it down until your crotch is exposed.

He enters you without any warning, enough to make you scream so loudly that the people outside the club look around. Luckily the windows of his Ferrari are tinted to hide the obscenities you are doing inside. His pace is fast like his car, his moans resemble the roar of an engine. Together you create perfect music, harmonious notes that blend with the noise of your flash making contact. As he moves inside you he bites your earlobe and moves to your right collarbone. You have never been so at peace. For the first time, you forget all the pain of your past, this man is magical. His cock adheres perfectly to the walls of your vagina. “Fuck you’re so tight, you're perfect for me, princess”. You can’t even answer him, you can only let out a moan of pleasure. Suddenly you feel a knot in your stomach getting stronger and stronger and then you cum hard like never before. “This man is phenomenal”, you think. After a few seconds, he also cums for the second time, still shouting how wonderful you are.

“So? Don’t you ask my name?” he says. “Is it possible that you don’t remember me, princess?”. Immediately that nickname, his voice, his toned muscles, and his icy eyes come back to your mind. It's Charles Leclerc. The famous Formula 1 driver. Your first meeting? A night of fire like this. You have tried to track him down but since so much time has passed you lost all hopes. “Charles,” you say, your pupils widening as does your smile. “I have never forgotten you, princess”. “I hope you can forgive me, it took me a long time to find you, but here we are, perfect as we were that night, made for each other”. With eyes full of tears, you lie down on the seat starting to fantasize about a future together, about a life full of red and love.

#charles leclerc #formula 1 #charles leclerc smut #ferrari #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

[thirstywoso]

Frustration | Niamh Charles x Reader

A/n: I haven't written a fic in around 7 years but after that "we are Chelsea" episode with Niamh I had to write this. It's not edited and it might not be very good but if you enjoy and want a pt2 or more fics send in your requests

Warnings: smut 18+ mdni

A little angst if you squint, fingering r receiving, oral r receiving, thigh riding, squirting, praise kink and masturbation

Word count: 3k

Let's go

Just like most days you were sat in the passenger seat of your girlfriends Skoda Enyaq, this time on your way to Jessie's new apartment for a bonding night with your other team mates.

Although you had your license Niamh preferred to be the designated driver in your relationship before you'd left your house you did insist to her that you we're more than capable of driving seeing as she had yet to drive around that part of Cobham. Just like you knew she would she declined and slipped into the drivers seat. Sighing defeatedly you huffed into your seat. Your girlfriend just smirking at you handing you the aux.

"Baby, you know you're my passenger princess and you are better at playing the car DJ" Niamh giggled.

"Fine!" You mocked offence.

Once down the road and into unfamiliar territory for Niamh you began to direct her telling her what lane to be in and when to signal even though she had the satnav on. She let you carry on a few times before huffing!

"Y/n/n, I've got it"

You knew she hated backseat drivers but you were just trying to be helpful, after a few moments singing along to one of the songs you had put on you'd all but forgotten not to direct Niamh's driving.

"You're in the wrong lane, Jessie's road is the last exit on the rounda... bout" you mumbled out the last part when you caught her eye and she had that stern look plastered on her face. You suddenly remembered what you had done, Niamh wasn't easily frustrated but you knew that was one of her pet peeves.

You could tell she'd stiffened up slightly where she was trying to keep calm and so you put your hand on her thigh and gave her a soft smile. She softened in your touch and smiled asking you to turn up the music as it was one of your favourite songs playing.

"Turning saints into the sea.." you sang in unison as you pulled up in front of Jessie's apartment noting some of your other team mates cars in the lot.

--

By now you had been at Jessie's for a few hours you'd all watched a movie, had eaten the pizza's you'd collectively ordered and had played some of the games as that's usually what you do at a games night.

You were currently playing Pictionary and you were on a team with Jessie whilst Niamh was with Guro, Aggie was with Cat and Zecira was with Nathalie. You and Jessie were winning by miles whereas Niamh and Guro weren't having as much luck. Yourselves mocking and teasing them, it was then you saw the way your girlfriends jaw clenched that she was genuinely annoyed at herself losing.

"Baby don't worry you'll do better next time" you laughed.

"Yeah baby, maybe we will go easy next time" Jessie mocked.

"Give over Jess, you know I could crush you any day of the week"

"Niamhy it's okay Jess was only kidding"

"Yeah Charles it's all good"

"Whatever, let's play a different game"

It wasn't often you drank considering you were a professional athlete much similar to the other girls in your presence, that's why at team bonding nights you all usually got carried away.

As it was getting later and you'd all had a fair bit to drink, Guro suggested that it would be fun to play a game of truth or dare. Which if it went the way it usually did would end in drama.

"Guro you have to go first as it was your idea, so truth or dare?" You questioned

"Hmm, dare"

After a few seconds of trying to come up with a dare for Guro, Aggie chimes in.

"I dare you to chug the rest of your drink"

"Easy" she retorted after swallowing her mouthful and tipping the now empty bottle upside down.

Zecira seemed slightly bored of the tame dares yawning slightly and took it upon herself to spice things up.

"Let's amp it up a little ladies, Jessie truth or dare?"

"Dare"

"I dare you to kiss y/n for at least 5 seconds"

"But.. Niamh"

"But.. but it's just a game Niamh won't care, will you Niamh"

"Sure go ahead" Niamh said nonchalantly, although when you looked at her to gauge how she was really feeling you could see a tinge of jealous behind the smile on her face.

"Fine"

With that Jessie leant over and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away slightly, before she had fully sank back to where she was sitting you pulled her back in for a slightly longer kiss which she reciprocated.

"Finally, that's what I'm talking about"

Zecira always loved in her words to 'liven the party'

After a few more rounds and the feeling of Niamh's eyes burning into you, it was your turn.

"I'm going to go with truth"

Nobody had asked you yet but you had already given licked whipped cream off of Guro's cheek and gave Niamh a lap dance which definitely did not start a fire down below for her and the blush in her cheeks was from the alcohol she was drinking and couldn't possibly be anything else. You saw a smirk appear on Zecira's face and almost regretted asking for a truth.

"Who's a better kisser Niamh or Jessie"

Everyone's heads whipped around to look at you, Niamh almost getting whiplash and Jessie's cheeks burning red. You hesitated to answer because it was such a silly question, well to you at least. You soon realised that maybe hesitating wasn't a great idea because Niamh soon got up and stormed out onto Jessie's balcony.

"Thanks Z"

You went out into the balcony and shut the door, Niamh didn't even turn to look at you, she knew you were there but in the moment she didn't even want to look at you.

"Why'd you hesitate y/n/n?"

"What..? Baby please don't be silly right now. I didn't answer because it's obvious, you're the best kisser out there.. not that I kiss other girls. I mean not that I haven't in the past but you know since you and me, me and you"

Niamh chuckled whilst she turned and cupped your cheek kissing you gently.

"Sweetie shh, I know. I just get jealous sometimes like maybe you could do better than me and Jessie is so amazing and after seeing you kiss earlier it just kind of hit a nerve"

You kissed her again in reassurance

"You know you're cute when you ramble though, I'm sorry I walked out. My emotions are just not as in check as I'd like them to be, what with your backseat driving, losing game night and seeing you kiss my best friend"

"You're just a sore loser Niamhy but you know I only ever want you"

"Well after that lap dance I really want you"

"I'm that good huh?"

"That good" she smirked

"How about we head home and we sort out how emotionally.. and sexually frustrated you are honey"

Niamh didn't need asking twice she grabbed your hand and dragged you back inside. Making some poor excuse about not feeling well and needing to go home and she will make it up to them. With that she shoved you out the door quickly following bundling you into a taxi home.

Your teammates looking at each other knowingly and giggling at Niamh's excuse this time because this happened most game nights.

When you got back home Niamh couldn't unlock the door quick enough, when you finally did get inside you both kicked your shoes off somewhere random on the floor as a tomorrow problem.

Within seconds Niamh had you over her shoulder carrying you to the bedroom, you knew all that extra time she was spending in weight training was paying off.

After kicking the bedroom door closed Niamh dropped you onto the bed making quick work of her clothes and nodding at you to do the same.

Soon both of your sets of clothes were discarded haphazardly on the floor, Niamh signalled for you to move up the bed. You pushed yourself back until your head rested on your pillows and Niamh crawled on the bed above you.

For a second you thought she was having doubts because she hoovered above you staring down admiring the way your lip tucked behind your teeth and your chest heaved with need.

"Baby, if you'd rather not tonight we can cuddle instead"

"NO" she practically yelled

"Sorry, no I want to but I just couldn't help but take you all in, I can't believe you're mine sometimes" admiration dripping off every word.

"Shut up" you giggled and gently slapped her arm. Which flexed under your touch causing your breath to hitch. Niamh smirked knowingly and with that pressed her thigh down into your centre leading to another gasp.

Before long her lips were back on yours deepening the kiss, feeling your tongue run gently against her lower lip. Sighing and relaxing into the kiss. Your fingers scratching gently and the nape of her neck and tangling in the fine hairs there.

Biting your lip and carefully pulling away, her lips attached themselves to your neck slowly trailing up and down sucking on your weak points. Her favourite was just below your ear where your jaw met your neck, she could spend all day there if you let her. Listening to the way your breathing sped up and the small whimpers you made.

Niamh kept her attention there for awhile before sinking lower, peppering your chest with lazy kisses before taking your left peak into mouth and gently sucking and rolling the bud with her tongue. She meant on her elbow and caressed your face whilst swapping to your right breast and paying it the same attention.

Her free hand snaking between your legs making you gasp as she hit the jackpot. Her finger teasingly fuming through your folds causing her to smirk against your chest, mumbling around your nipple causing the vibrations to stir something in your lower stomach.

"So fucking wet for me"

"All for you" your head stretched back against the pillow eyes screwed shut needing more. Tight circles started to be drawn around your clit before gliding back between your folds just before it became too much. She knew your body well and better than yourself sometimes.

Your hands soon found their way into her hair as she kissed her way down your toned stomach and along your inner thighs. She continued to tease you before looking up at you. Two of her digits circling your entrance, she gave you a questioning look which you answered with a small nod.

"Words baby, you know I don't find anything sexier than consent"

"I always want to make sure you enjoy what I do and that you want it as much as me"

"Please Niamhy"

With that she sunk two fingers into you, your back arched slightly and she pressed gentle kisses to your thigh as she worked herself into you. It didn't take long for her to find a comfortable rhythm and it helped with you being so wet.

Then came the sensation of her gently blowing against your clit which made your legs twitch. Before you knew it her tongue was gently aiding her fingers between your legs and darted out of her soft pink lips rapidly as she lapped at your sensitive bud.

Alternating between suckling and flicking her tongue over where you needed her most. More of your juices coated her fingers and with that she slipped in a third which was rewarded with a moan that ripped from deep inside you. Curling her fingers deep inside you whilst you grabbed and her hair pulling her impossibly closer.

"Good girl baby, you're such a good girl for me"

Niamh knew how much you loved being called a good girl during sex and it worked you felt yourself getting closer to your peak.

"That's it baby, you gonna cum for me"

"Pl..please"

"Go ahead"

With a few more thrusts you were coming apart underneath her moaning her name, which she would deny but was a massive ego boost for her.

She then kissed her way back up your body before using her hips to aid in thrusting her fingers harder into you.

"One more please baby"

Before you even had a second to think your eyes went white with pleasure and you felt yourself gush into Niamh's palm.

"Fuckkkkk"

She had the biggest dopiest shit eating grin on her face, so pleased with herself.

"I didn't know you could do that"

"Neither did I" you said shyly

"Please don't be embarrassed, that was so fucking hot"

Kidding you sweetly before asking if you were ready for her to pull out. When you nodded she removed her fingers making your legs twitch slightly as your pussy ached to me touched again after what happened next.

Niamh took her finger into her mouth swirling her tongue around them cleaning every last drop of you off of her digits.

Her lips reconnected with yours before you could even think of something to say, tasting yourself of her lips brought another rush of wetness to your core.

You flipped over your positions straddling Niamh's muscular thigh which she tensed below you. Her hands gently squeezing on your breasts as you ground down. Your sensitive nub bumping along each definition.

"You want more?"

You knew she wasn't judging you and was just more curious about your needs than anything.

"Almost there"

Your hips rutted against her becoming more staggered the closer you got. Collapsing back on top of her after your third orgasm. Groaning in her ear as you came down, only adding to the rush of wetness between her own thighs.

"Your turn" you mumbled sleepily

"Not tonight sweetie you're warm out, let me clean you up"

You didn't argue, you knew she was right and you were too tired to reciprocate. You weren't as worried as you would've been at the start of your relationship because you know that not every time is about give and take and some days it's just better to give than receive and visa versa. Although you'd never turn down your favourite meal. Niamh.

Whilst you were thinking about how lucky you were Niamh came back into the room with a wash cloth and some water for you which you happily sipped as Niamh carefully cleaned you up without trying to overstimulate you.

Once finished you cuddled up under the duvet, entwining your legs with Niamh's only for her to let out a little gasp as your leg connected with her centre by accident.

"What was that?"

"Nnnothing"

"It certainly didn't sound like nothing, you're still worked up aren't you?"

Niamh nodded her head but reiterated that she didn't want any reciprocation because she knew your body was exhausted.

"Fine, I won't touch you but I want you to touch yourself for me"

"Baby no, let's cuddle and get some sleep"

With that you gently cupped her discovering how wet she really was, she rolled her eyes in response.

"Please Niamhy, for me. I want to watch you get off for me"

Niamh didn't make an effort to move.

"It'll be incredibly hot knowing your thinking about me and then tomorrow it's my turn to treat you like a queen"

Niamh sighed knowing you wouldn't let up and knew it would be quicker to get it other with so you could go to sleep.

Niamh slid her fingers between her legs as you pulled back the duvet to watch. Her fingers slipped between her pretty pink lips and sunk into herself. She wasn't one for teasing when it came to herself. She had a job and she wanted to get it done.

"That's it baby add another for me, stretch out that tight pussy for me"

Niamh groaned as she added a second finger her brows furrowing and her lip caught between her teeth as she concentrated on your voice, you wrapped your hand around her wrist so you could feel closer to her enjoying the way her tendons flexed against your fingers with every thrust inside herself.

You didn't know where to look eyes darting back and forth between where her fingers disappeared and the concentrated and determined look on her face.

It didn't take long as she was so worked up

"Please can I cum baby?"

"Hmm I don't know"

"Don't fucking tease me, I'm so close! Please!"

You loved hearing her pleas and beg but tonight you just wanted to see her satisfied.

"That's it baby let go"

Niamh's head snapped back as she released. After a few minutes of catching her breath she disappeared to the bathroom cleaning herself up. She slipped into a pair of your training shorts and one of your old college tees. In return she brought you some of England shorts and a UCLA shirt Jessie had given to her one time after she'd gone back to visit.

She helped you into the clothes before laying down and pulling you onto her chest. Your head resting listing to her chest rise and fall rhythmically, your legs draped over hers. She kissed the top of your head and tucked you both under the duvet.

After awhile you thought she had fallen asleep as her breathing was shallow and steady.

"I love you Niamh"

"I love you too y/n"

"Now get some sleep"

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso smut #niamh charles #Niamh Charles fic #Niamh Charles smut #jessie fleming #Jessie Fleming smut #Jflem

[luveline]

HI MLLLL! I absolutely loved your fainting fic with James! Can you write like a part a part 2 or like a follow up where reader starts realizing that James isn’t as bad as she thought and she falls for him as he takes care of her bc he’s really worried? I love them sm 🥹

James takes care of you when you faint

James is acting weirder than usual… sort of… nice? fem, 1.2k

The days after you faint are just as hot, but you come into work. You can’t afford to miss it, and it’s not as though you’ll make the same mistake twice. 

The memory of what happened is hazy at the start. James had just opened the window, the breeze that filtered in cooling your hot skin. You’d felt sick, you’d tried to stand, and your head had gone blank. 

You woke with your face in James’ hand. You can remember it if you think about it enough, his head tilted down toward you, the sunshine on his skin, his soft smile. He’d felt like a different person. 

You’d felt different. 

“Can you send me that information from the lab, please?” 

You glance away from your computer, eyes tired. “Sorry?” 

“For the, uh, Mr. Nguyen?” James asks. “You didn’t send them to me. I can’t do them if you don’t send them.” 

“Right.” You blink away the phantom of his hand on your cheek. “Okay.” 

“Are you feeling alright?” 

That’s all he asks. Every day since you passed out, at various times and in various ways. Are you okay? Are you alright? Is it too hot in here? Do you want to swap desks with me? That last one had been a little patronising. You’d told him to leave you alone. Your desk is right next to the radiator in winter, it’s prime real estate, and you’re not giving it up just because you got a bit hot. 

“I’m fine,” you murmur, turning back to your computer to open outlook. “Just thinking.” 

“About what?” 

“About you not talking to me.” 

“Funny.” 

You drag and drop the paperwork for the tests he’d wanted. It’s easy to render an invoice but you hate doing it because it involves a lot of talking back and forth with clients. James, on the other hand, loves to talk. 

“There, sent it,” you say.

“Thank you.” 

Awkward. You pretend to be busier than you are for a few minutes, stealing company time without remorse. James types up an email beside you, the click of his keys quick and loud in your ears. 

Remus pops a pen lid across the way, scribbling onto a post it note that he sticks on his monitor. You know what time it is from the sounds alone. A half a minute later, Sirius slinks up from the front of the office to wrap his arm around Remus’ shoulders, sing-songing, “You’re coming with me, handsome.” 

“Are you coming?” Remus asks James. 

There’s a lapse of quiet. You stare at your computer, aware of a silent conversation, but not privy to its content. “I think I’ll stay,” James says eventually. 

“Okie dokie. Y/N, do you want to come, lovely?” Remus asks. “It’s not too hot.” 

“I’m fine,” you say, “thanks. Thank you.” 

You don’t feel like yourself since you fainted. You’d hoped it would go away once you had a better night’s sleep, flooded your system with cold water and good food, but you can’t kick it. You have no energy, no want to do more than turn up for work and go home again, and you know what it is that’s making you feel this way, but you can’t admit it to yourself. It crops up in your mind unbidden and you push it back down. 

“Sirius never used to act like that.” 

“What?” 

“Sirius. He was never like that when we were growing up. Love makes him pathetic.” 

Love is a tender touch. Sirius had laid his arm over Remus’ shoulder without any hug or kiss, but it was as loving as either. To touch someone like they need a kind hand. 

Like James had held your face. His arm behind your back as he led you to the break room. 

“Do you wanna come with me?” James asks. 

You hold in a second confused, What? He’s standing now, you hadn’t noticed him moving, his water bottle in hand as he pushes his chair back under the desk. 

“Don’t wanna leave you here and have you smash your head in when there’s no one around. Imagine the clean up.” 

You get up on impulse. You grab your drink, and the back of your chair, and you stand there wondering if you’re about to be dizzy again. Your chest feels tight, but that weight of unconsciousness doesn’t come. 

“Hey,” James says. “Seriously, are you okay? You’re not like you today.” 

There’s a softness in his voice you can’t believe. “Can I eat lunch with you?” 

You wish that you said it to avoid the question. James wrinkles his nose, your heart drops into the pit of your stomach, but then he says, “I just invited you first.” 

“I… have to get my stuff from the fridge.”

“Me too.”

You walk slowly, worried it’s a joke, another stupid joke, but James comes up behind you and his hand graces your shoulder with the barest pressure. You can smell something sweet and warm on him, like jojoba oil. Maybe argan. “Sure you’re okay? You look peaky. Is it the heat?” he murmurs.

“It’s supposed to rain tonight.” 

“You can’t answer anything, can you?” James laughs with a vocal fry that goes straight to your chest. “I could ask you how many fingers you’d have and you’d tell me you have two hands.” 

James walks with you to the kitchen, where you gather your food and warm it in the microwave. He leads you to the break room, and makes sure to choose a table with enough space for you, even while people he’s friendly with beckon him forward. They look at you with unashamed curiosity, but James pretends not to notice so you do too. 

You’re expecting a joke. Aw, look, we’re finally on a date. Or Wow, you know how to use a spoon, I had no idea you were so dexterous. 

“Did you see they’re making a new movie about those aliens? The ones who can hear you everywhere you go?” 

You squeeze your spoon. “Uh, no, I didn’t see it.” 

“It looks awesome. I’ll show you the trailer on my computer after lunch, it looks just as good as the first two. That actress, the one with the really nice eyes is in it.” 

You have no idea who he means. James talks to you like a friend. He offers you some of his papris and he passes you a napkin from his pocket when you get food on your hands. James Potter might actually be a really nice guy. All it took was for you to garner his pity for him to show it. How pathetic you must seem to need it. 

“How do you feel now?” he asks as you clip the lid back onto your Tupperware. “You look better. Do you feel better?” 

“I’m fine, James.” 

“You frown so much I can’t tell.” He butts his knee against yours. “Alright, batten the hatches, I’m gonna carry you back to your desk.” 

“Why?” you ask in a rush. 

“Can’t fall if you don’t walk.” 

“James, don’t try it. I’m serious.” 

“You don’t sound serious. You sound like you want me to carry you.” 

“I’ll report you to Human Resources.” 

“For what? Being helpful?” 

“Harassment.” 

“Fine, but I’m not gonna catch you this time.” 

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

[daycourtofficial]

Ferocious beasts with soft bellies

Pairing: Eris x Rhys’s sister!reader | WC: 2.5k | warnings: mentions of pregnancy, some violence from dogs

Summary: Eris’s hounds know you’re pregnant before either of you do, driving the two of you wild with their newfound devotion to you.

Author’s note: hi everyone!!! Thanks for joining me this week, I hope you had a great time!! This one ends on a note I didn’t expect it to, but I do have plans to write follow-ups I kinda wanted to break this up into two. Also this is part of my gingerfucker series, but can be read as a standalone okay love ya bye 😘

Eris’s hounds were incredibly well-trained. He spent thousands of hours when they were pups instilling in them commands, tracking and hunting skills, and alerting him to intruders on the property.

At least, they used to be well-trained.

These days Clover, the leader of the pack, would not allow you out of her sight. All twelve hounds wandered through your house as they pleased, often keeping you company in Eris’s absence. They would lounge about, finding warm sunny spots throughout the house to take afternoon naps in. You’d usually have one or two lazily trail you around the house, staying in the beds you had placed in several of the rooms.

Lately their attachment and sudden devotion to you was getting out of hand. Clover was practically sewn into your side the way she followed you around - she hardly let you out of her sight, keeping an eye on you at all times, following you as you moved through the house. She was even beginning to ignore Eris’s commands, opting to stay at your feet, following you around the house, or with her head curled on your lap.

When you and Eris publicly began your mateship, you had begged him to allow the dogs into your shared bed. “Just one,” you had pouted, “I don’t like waking alone.”

Despite his grumbling, Eris had obliged your request. Things with your family were still quite rough - it had been almost a year by now since you left the Night Court, being unceremoniously abdicated from the throne. You had been in contact with most of your family by this point except for Rhysand, who was still refusing to speak with you since he forced you out of ‘his court’, as he had called it.

Despite your best efforts, Eris still felt guilty over it, the rift in your family caused by the discovery of your mateship. You usually tried to soothe him, not wanting him to feel guilt over the decisions you made. You would choose him over and over again, and problems with Rhysand or any member of your family were not going to stop that from continuing. Besides, his guilt would be better suited as ire towards Rhysand.

Sometimes you did use his guilt to get what you want.

Which is why it initially did take Clover much coaxing to jump into the bed at all, a notion she thought ridiculous at first, but once her paws melted into the mattress, she was quick to lay directly on your side of the bed, placing her head atop your pillow.

“Traitor,” Eris had muttered as you cuddled up to her, petting her soft head.

After getting her into the bed, Clover spent most nights curled up at your feet or by your side, your nights often spent squished between her long body and Eris’s. Soon enough, you were back to asking Eris for another one to sleep in your bed.

“So Clover doesn’t get lonely.”

He spent ages debating with you that no, she doesn’t need a companion in bed with her. It was ridiculous. The three of you were enough for one bed, and he hated to think of how a second hound would complicate things.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he did quite enjoy it when he’d throw an arm around you in the middle of the night and his fingers would meet Clover’s soft fur from the other side of you.

It also soothed some minor worry in him to have you protected from all sides, despite your being more than capable of defending yourself. The mating bond was a precious gift, but it was also a minor curse with the way it coursed through his veins, needing to protect you, to keep you safe, and to keep you both satiated.

“Er, our bed’s plenty big enough for more hounds.”

“Yes, but they’ll get too spoiled. You’ve already turned Clover rotten.”

“I have done no such thing,” you cross your arms, trying to look utterly appalled at his accusation. He gives you a pointed look, then turns his gaze behind you.

Your gaze turned to the hound seated behind you, her long limbs spread across your bed, her little leg kicks and soft snores bringing a small chuckle to your lips that you quickly turned into a scoff.

“That proves nothing.”

In the several months since allowing Clover and Cinnamon in your bed, they were still obedient. They left the bed without disturbing you in the mornings, they rotated who laid next to you and who slept at the foot of the bed, and they would never go to bed without either you or Eris prompting them to.

That all stopped a few weeks ago.

Eris’s hounds had always been fond of you - Eris had spoken of them for centuries before you were able to see any of them. The way he had spoken of them had helped you see he was capable of caring about something that wasn’t himself.

That was its own revelation.

Meeting the hounds was quite nerve-wracking for you - he told you they were quite cold to new fae, and they had detested Lucien’s overeagerness to befriend them - a grudge they still held many centuries later.

“I believe they smelled the desperation leaking from his pores, tainted their perception of him,” he quipped.

Despite Eris’ warnings, you were not prepared for them to warm up to you as much as they had. He brought out his most trusted hound, Clover, to meet you, and you’re not sure if it was the way Eris’ scent was forever entwined with your own, but she warmed to you immediately. She circled your legs before sitting directly next to you, placing her head beneath your hand.

“What does this mean?” you whisper to Eris, not wanting to scare her or set her off.

“She wants you to pet her.”

Your confused expression makes his eyes dance with amusement.

“Surely you understand that means to stroke her head.” He raises his hand in demonstration, petting the air with a bemused look on his face.

You huff, “she could bite me, I apologize for wanting to wait a moment before touching a creature you’ve told me is dangerous.”

“She is dangerous, but surely she’s capable of being more than one thing.”

Nowadays she was capable of such a feat - she was not only beloved by you, but she was also a constant thorn in your side.

It started with subtle things, conversations with Eris where you tried to express how odd they were behaving one night while you sat in Eris’ study, helping him sort through correspondence from his brothers about the lands they oversee.

“Clover followed me into the bathroom.”

“Perhaps I should put some cushions for her to lay down while you bathe. I’m fond of the sight, perhaps she is too.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m serious, Er. She’s behaving strangely.”

Eris set the letter from Moros down, his attention fixed on you. “You spoil her, she is merely being affectionate. You’ll get used to it.”

Eris was wrong, Clover’s behavior only getting worse as the days went on.

“Clover, stay.”

Clover’s brown eyes observed you, your finger pointing toward the floor indicating for her to stay, tone full of finality - a princess’s tone, a high lady’s tone. You were determined to get the hound to listen to you, commanding her to stay in your chambers.

You passed through the door, heading down to speak with one of your advisor’s who insisted he speak with you as soon as possible. You rolled your eyes just thinking about his current issue with one of the trade routes that flows into Spring and how last time he wanted to speak to you, you enjoyed watching the vein on his forehead throb at your reluctance to take his ill advice.

Perhaps during this meeting the vein will pop, at least then the meeting would come with entertainment.

You look down and are startled when you see Clover’s body in step with yours, her fur shimmering in the light as if she were smoke rising from the ground.

Cauldron boil me, Eris is going to kill me if I’ve ruined all of their training.

You stop, pointing in the opposite direction, whispering, “go, shoo Clover.” You don’t even want to consider how she got through the closed door.

Clover just sits in front of you, her gaze piercing, seeing something you can’t. You blow out a breath, hands running through your hair, “okay, you may come with me.”

You’d regret those words.

Clover strode into the room before you, sniffing the air as her nails clacked across the floor. Her focus shifted to the male in the room, Flint’s eyes narrowing at her. She moved her body closer to the floor as she stalked towards him, the hair along her spine raising into the shape of a fin. Her ears were pulled back, a low rumble emitting from her chest.

“Clover!”

Your voice is chastising, but Clover does not let her guard down as she slowly approaches Flint. His eyes are full of fear as she approaches, her feet circling him. He spins in a circle, not letting her eyes leave his.

“Clover!”

You whistle her stop command, but she ignores it. She circled Flint the way she circles mice and rabbits.

She always loved playing with her food.

“What is this? Control your hound.” Flint’s voice is annoyed as Clover raises her head, baring her teeth at him.

“I’m trying.”

You move forward, reaching to grab Clover’s neck, instead missing and falling forward towards Flint. His arms catch your forearms, but Clover was not a fan of his touch and her teeth swiftly sank into the leg of his trousers. Her grip was strong as she tugged at his pants, and he began stammering, shaking his leg trying to rid his pants of her. He backed away toward the door, and once he reached the threshold, Clover let go of her grip, almost causing the male to fall over.

Her growls echoed down the hall as she watched him run down the hall before scampering back towards you, confusion and shock on your face at all that just transpired.

The hound just licked your face gently before laying next to you, her head in your lap.

You sighed, certain that Eris would kill you for ruining Clover.

Later that night, Eris made hisbway to your shared chambers, a bit surprised to find you already asleep. The hour wasn’t too late, however he had caught you dozing while reading over some requests regarding equipment for some farms.

He stripped his clothes, the finery being replaced by some loose trousers before moving towards the bed to find that the hounds had placed themselves on either side of you, Cinnamon occupying his spot on the bed.

“Cinnamon, down.”

The brown hound does not listen to the command, the only response a long sigh of her breath. He stared at the hound - a seventy year old beast who was one of the easiest hounds he’d ever trained, knowing how he expected her to behave from an incredibly young age.

Cinnamon was no Clover, but she was second in their chain of command. Clover was on your other side, soft snores coming from her snout.

There was plenty of room in the bed for the two of you, the two hounds, and, truthfully, several more hounds. Your preference for larger beds from when you had your wings never left after you lost them.

Eris laid in the bed, determined he could outmaneuver his hounds. He moved a hand out to your face, stroking your hair before a soft growl cut him off.

His hand stilled, eyes wide at such a response from Cinnamon. His nostrils begin flaring, heat rising to the surface of his skin in anger. He could feel the roar of the bond in his ears, frustration boiling within him at the defiance and aggression at him touching his own mate.

He tried to swallow it down, refusing to erupt in his own bed while you slept peacefully next to him. His fuse was a short one, his temper always loosely held back by a quick tongue that allowed him to loosen the reins ever so slightly.

He watched them, their bodies curled around your own and thought about your complaints of them following you around, believing it to be a consequence of your softness towards them.

You were spoiling them rotten. You were a few weeks away from giving them table scraps, for Mother’s sake. But then his thoughts veered into Flint’s description of what occurred, Clover guarding you from Flint’s touch like a mother hen-

His heart stalls in his chest, a heavy realization settling over him as he sits up, Sierra growling softly at his abrupt movements.

You were pregnant. You had to be - it was the only logical conclusion other than all twelve of his hounds losing their minds simultaneously. They must be able to scent it on you before fae senses could pick them up.

He wonders briefly if Lucien’s magical eye could see it.

Eris lay frozen on the bed, his thoughts swirling with what to do, how he was going to handle this. He was still quite new to his tenure as high lord - the work wasn’t unexpected by any means, however his position was still quite vulnerable - new power always attracted violence attempting to see how far that power extended.

Things were still difficult in your personal lives - he and Lucien were on tenuous speaking terms, you and Rhysand were not on speaking terms. The two of you hadn’t spoken in almost a year.

It was all so damn complicated - you hadn’t had a coronation as high lady yet, wanting to wait until Rhysand would show up to have the ceremony. The logistics of a babe at such a crucial turning point politically could open Eris up to glaring vulnerabilities.

Long fingers tap at his chest, trying to keep himself somewhat grounded in reality. He had no confirmation for this - his reasoning behind such a theory were founded on the strange behavior of his hounds. He was being a ridiculous fool to get so worked up over unconfirmed theories.

Yet the image of a swaddled little thing kept gnawing at his mind - tiny toes, a tiny nose, tiny fingers wrapping around his. He had adored his brothers when they were much younger, when the world under Beron could be disguised as a good place. Perhaps he could do it.

Eris laid awake for several hours, your soft breathing calming him as he sat and thought about all the possible ways he could ruin all of this.

A tiny part of him let himself hope that, in spite of it all, he wouldn’t.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx

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Thanks for reading 💕

#gingerfucker #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra

[macfrog]

backspin | bbf!frankie

surprise! we're taking a quick detour to fuck around with our brother's best friend again. what else is new.

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x fem!reader summary: you try to get even with frankie. it works. warnings: reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, enemies to lovers, mention of throwing up, alcohol consumption, cursing, oral, more dickhead frankie and more sassy reader word count: 6.3k

part one: rack 'em | main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💙

So, you fucked around with Frankie.

It’s no big deal, right? It was just a one-time thing. There was tension, you guys relieved it. Scratched an itch. Served a purpose. You still fucking hate the guy, and he still fucking hates you.

Nothing’s changed.

Right?

Mal sprays wine all over the kitchen table when you tell her. Gargles a, Sorry – fuck – sorry, through what little of the alcohol is left in her mouth.

You wipe your face clean in the crook of your elbow. It’s in your fucking eyelashes. You blink the room back into focus, and – “Jesus, Mal!”

Dark droplets teeter around the edge of the table, threatening to plunge straight down onto your mom’s chair cushions – thus damning you to her very own personal hell for all eternity. You can feel the flames licking at your feet already.

Your best friend rips a sheet of paper towel and drags it over the wood – white bleeding violet at the first swipe. “Why’d you tell me as I was taking a sip?”

“I didn’t think you’d fucking hose me down,” you hiss, taking the soaked crumple from her hands.

“You didn’t think I’d be a little surprised that you and Catfish Morales hooked up? Are you fucking ser–? Actually, you know what? I’m not that surprised.”

You glare at her from the sink, upper lip curled.

Mallory Bennett has been privy to your every thought since you were six years old. Hand in hand, arms swinging as you marched into first grade together.

Most days, you barely have to open your mouth – one flinching expression, one flash of eye contact, and she can parrot your own thoughts back to you.

Francisco Morales going down on you two nights ago is the first thing you’ve ever had to confess to her. It’s the first thing she never saw coming.

“Shut up,” you breathe, eventually thawing and sweeping over to your chair. The table sticks to your arms when you sit back down.

“There’s a lot to unpack there, alright? A lot of tension. I mean, you gotta fuckin’ feel it. You two hate each other’s guts! And you’re both single, and you’re only here for two weeks. And – he’s Santi’s best friend. It’s just…it’s the perfect storm.”

Another exasperated sigh passes your lips. You settle back, eyes closed, and lift your palm. “Enough. I’ve heard enough.”

“You wouldn’t’ve told me if you didn’t wanna talk about it. Was he good?”

“Mal.”

“Was he?”

“I was drunk. I don’t remember.”

“Bullshit.” Her face screws up; the gold hoops wobble from her ears. “Like hell you don’t remember. Tell me.”

Your eyes slip from her over to Ange. The old pup pushes herself to her feet with a huff, her joints stiff and bones frail. She moseys over to your side. You scratch the back of the dog’s neck, shrugging to Mal.

“Maybe if you hadn’t cheated your way to a free round of drinks, I’d remember enough to share.”

“Fuck you,” she snorts, voice rounded by her wine glass. “Maybe that just means you gotta do it again – sober.”

You scoff.

Angie looks up at you – watery eyes blinking, tail slowly fanning.

Mal’s already recounting the time Frankie snitched on the two of you for raiding your mom’s makeup bag. She waves her hands in the air, eyes bulging.

Do it again. The thought actually makes you want to laugh.

You and Frankie – you and Catfish, hooking up again. As if the first time wasn’t a total mishap, the biggest mistake in judgement you think you’ve ever made.

He drove you home, he made you come, he left.

One nil, right? You have one up on him. You got yours, and he probably went home and jerked off to the thought of it. Alone in his room, tongue licking at the corners of his mouth where he could still taste your release.

You won.

You won, against Frankie Morales.

“…and then fuckin’ – Pope tried to help us tidy it up, remember? He was scrubbing the hell outta the lipstick on the mirror. But that asshole – Frankie,” she seethes, “he went downstairs as soon as your mom came home. As soon as she…And he fucking ratted!”

She growls, balls her fists. Screws her eyes tight shut like the enraged eight-year-old she was back then. She still has the same little crease between her brows. “What the hell got into you that night? We hate him, junior!”

Ange slumps to the floor with a sigh.

“Me too, girl,” you mutter to her, twirling the base of your glass. You look back up at the crazed woman opposite. “I don’t know,” you insist. “I was drunk, we were on our own…It just happened, alright?”

Her shoulders roll in a shrug. She lifts her glass to clink the neck of the bottle against the rim, purple wine spilling in a swirl. “Maybe it’s the start of something.”

You scoff. “Mal. Come on.”

“I’m serious. Perfect storm.”

“Nope. No storm. Stop that.”

She jabs a tipsy finger in your direction. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you messed around with your arch fucking menesis– arch fucking…with – with Frankie, and you just – still feel nothing for him?”

“No,” you admit, “I feel plenty for him. I hate his fucking guts. I used to wish every birthday that he’d disappear. One time in church, when Father Joseph told everybody to bow their heads ‘n pray, I actually asked God to kill him for me.”

“Not Father Joseph!” Mal shrieks, grinning. “He was so fucking hot, by the way, for a dude with no hair. When the sunlight caught that cueball just right…that was a real fucking miracle. Goddamn.”

You bat her snicker away. “Me and Frankie used to brawl so bad that our moms had to separate us,” you continue. “I had to sit in the front seat if we drove anywhere – and that still didn’t stop him! He’d reach around the headrest and flick my fucking ear.”

“You gave as good as you got, though. I’m surprised he can even still get hard, the number of times your foot…” She swings her leg and kicks your thigh softly. “He was an ass, I know.”

“He was an ass then, he’s still an ass now. That’s all there is to it.”

“Okay,” Mal concedes. Her dark, glossy hair surfs around the lip of her wine glass when she leans in. “But you wouldn’t’ve told me unless it was still on your mind. ‘s all I’m saying.”

You throw yourself back with a quick, angry shake of your head. Your tongue flicks over your top lip.

“All I’m saying,” she repeats, holding her hands up.

But I won, you think – in a petulant little whine. Like you could shake your fists and stamp your feet at the same time. You got one up on him. He – he made you…

He made you come. He saw you. Felt you. Tasted you.

He knows what you sound like, whimpering his fucking name. Drunk on him, begging him not to stop. And now, the image of him fisting his cock over the memory of it feels less like a victory, and more like –

Another fucking loss.

You have no idea what he looks like, coming undone. No clue what his fragmented moans sound like as they tear from the bottom of his throat and rain down over you. You don’t know the weight of him in your hands, the wet slip of his tip as he leaks over your tongue.

Mal’s onto something new. Taken by a Facebook post from some girl you went to high school with. Biggest head I ever saw on a fucking baby, she mutters, wincing and then sprinkling a handful of salted peanuts on her tongue.

Frankie’s cocky smirk clouds over the sight of her at the opposite end of your kitchen table.

Francisco fucking Morales. The asshole wins again.

All at once, you hear his rotten little jeers in your ear – curbed painfully by his middle finger searing across your lobe. You feel his heavy palm on your skull, fingers scrunching roughly into your scalp.

A temper boils between your ears, heavy over your head. It feels juvenile, as if it’s armed with a Barbie in one fist and a juice box in the other. Sunken and wallowing in shame and rage, red-hot waves which wash over you as Mal cackles at some video on her phone.

You feel Frankie’s hands around your legs; the flicks of his hair tickling the inside of your thighs. The swarm of butterflies deep in your belly as you watched his figure swagger back across the street to his truck.

Loss after loss after loss. Each one wearing a satisfied smirk and a Standard Oil baseball cap.

Each one staining deeper than red wine in varnished oak.

You grit your teeth.

Frankie –

fucking –

Morales.

Santi floats the idea of a barbecue. Because of course he fucking does.

He says his place is too small, too many neighbors in earshot – and as long as Ms. Teller takes both hearing aids out, she won’t even know it’s happening.

“Just the guys ‘n us,” he chirps. “You, me, Will, Benny…Fran-kie…?”

You gag down the line. Body instinct whenever his name is mentioned, worsened by the latest developments in your relations. Ange glances up from her spot beneath the oak tree – her milky fur stark against the velvet green grass.

Santi chokes on a laugh. “Mal, too, if that helps with the Catfish thing.”

You lean the phone on your collarbone, sitting forward to apply a second coat of polish to your toes. The red gloss shines in the early morning light. “He is not welcome in my house.”

“First off: not your house. Second –”

“My house for the next eleven days.”

He says your name flatly. It sounds like a door being slammed. It shuts you up as though you’re nine again. “…Second: he won’t be in the house. He’ll be in the backyard.”

“You owe me,” you protest. “For ditching me the other night. I’m cashing in, Santiago. You want a cookout? No Frankie.”

Your brother sighs. “And how am I supposed to explain that to him, hermana?”

“Don’t,” you tell him. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

Santi mutters something incoherent, though you know from the razor-sharp tone of voice that it’s no compliment. Still – he’s a man of his word.

Eventually he agrees: no Frankie at the barbecue.

The store is chilly, plucking goosebumps along your arms.

You round the aisles, scanning your list. You’ve been battling with a janky front wheel which has squealed and veered off-course at every fucking turn. It almost mowed over an elderly woman in the meat aisle.

You’ve cleared most of what Santi told you to get. Drinks, ice, buns, meat, corn on the cob. He wanted to use Mom’s dinner plates – but that, you countered, runs the risk of them being scraped, chipped, or worst of all, smashed.

That’s not a risk you’re willing to take. So you’ve piled in some paper plates and plastic cutlery, too – just to be on the safe side.

The cashier cuts a familiar figure at the checkout: her navy apron and full-cheek grin. She’s a staple sight from your childhood – a pair of dimples and sweet giggle trailing after you as you’d follow your mom’s skirt back out to the parking lot.

Her eyes widen and she clasps her hands when she notices you approaching. “Well, would you look who it is?” she sings.

“Hey, Pol,” you say, fanning yourself with your scrawled shopping list. “How you doing?”

The belt jolts your supplies closer to her bejeweled fingers.

“Same as always, honey. Rockin’ and rollin’. What brings you back to town?”

“Housesitting, dog-sitting…Santi-sitting. Mom and Dad are on a cruise.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she says, nodding. “She told me last week. Caribbean, right?”

You nod, sucking a deep, unenthused breath in.

Pol hums, smiling to herself as she clicks the barcode for your hotdogs into her computer. She begins telling you what her granddaughter thinks of second grade – her two times table and the tadpoles they’re keeping in class.

Your eyes sweep around the store as she chats. Everything looks the way it always did, a time capsule from the nineties. Speckled floor and fluorescent lights; placards hanging overhead which sway each time the great glass doors pull open.

Baskets of fruit and veg lined alongside a lawn set on offer. Beside that, heaps of flowers and stacked planters. Beside those, a discarded shopping cart. And beside that –

Frankie fucking Morales.

Well – the silhouette of him. It’s pretty bright outside. But you’d recognize the outline of that dumb baseball cap anywhere. He’s talking to one of the assistants.

You hand Pol the cash Santiago gave you, and she trades it for a receipt. Dumping your bags back into your cart, you nod to her in thanks and stalk off towards the sliding doors.

Frankie tosses and twirls a pack of cigarettes in his hand. The assistant is telling him about some big college football game.

Your grip tightens on the janky-wheeled cart. You feel your skin begin to heat; prickling all over your arms, flushing down between your shoulder blades. Gathering somewhere south of there.

But you walk by him with purpose, choosing to ignore that warm feeling. Choosing to ignore…him.

He doesn’t turn. Thankfully.

The doors grant you exit and you give your cart one good shove across the threshold, back out into blinding daylight and sticky heat.

“Alright, man,” Frankie’s voice calls from behind. “Good talkin’ to ya.”

You nail your eye on the car. It’s, like, fifteen paces. You can make it fifteen steps without having to deal with him, right? If you take longer strides, it’s probably more like ten.

Ten steps, and then you’re in the sanctuary of your car. You don’t have to see, speak to, or deal with him.

So why are you slowing down?

You’re slowing down. You are. You’re borderline fucking loitering. Quietly hoping he’ll notice, catch up, maybe talk to –

You click the unlock button. The car beeps in response.

Five steps out. The front wheel is rattling. You’re doing your best to ignore it.

Four.

Three.

The wheel spins, flitting like a confused compass needle, and stops dead in the opposite direction. The cart hurtles out of your grip for less than a second before you recover it and haul it close to your car, cursing under your breath.

But a force – stronger, steadier – reaches around your body and takes hold of the thing. It guides it back to course. A force which, when it speaks, sounds a shit ton like –

“Woah, lil Santi,” Frankie mutters, and your chest leaps.

You freeze in your tracks. His weight is still around your back. He’s right fucking there, when you turn to look.

The brim of his cap bumps against your head. He steps back with a smirk on his face. He’s so fucking smug, you could slap him. “You tryna cause a goddamn accident with that thing?”

You pull a disingenuous smile. “Hey, Fish. Ever tried minding your own business?”

He feigns a wounded sound and clutches his chest. “Ouch. I’m just looking out for ya.”

“Feels more like you’re pestering me.” You pull on the door handle and slot the first bag along the backseat.

Frankie lifts his chin, peering in at the contents. The star-spangled plated, the dripping bags of ice. “Having a party?” he asks, one eyebrow cocked.

You yank the bag from his sight, spinning to push it alongside the others. “Nope.”

He crosses his arms. “Sure looks like you’re having one.”

“Well, I’m not.” You slam the door and turn back to him, staring blankly.

“Forgot,” he sniffs, “you need friends to have a party.”

“Hilarious. Those shit jokes how you make all your friends?”

He nods, impressed. Pouts his lips like an annoying little fish. Suits his stupid fucking nickname. “Then why’d Benny call ‘n ask if I’ll be at Pope’s parents’ tonight?”

Shit. Fucking – Benny.

You sigh, eyes rolling closed. Your fingers massage your temples. “It’s not…it’s…”

“Cookout, right? Yeah. That stings, baby. No call, no text. You owe me, remember?”

“I owe you jack sh–”

“Two drinks,” Frankie clips, holding a finger up to shush you. “Three, if you count saving your car from one hell of a scratch.”

“Fuck off,” you breathe, and then give voice to, “It’s a small gathering of friends, and – now you, apparently.”

He sways forward, bumping the cart into your hip. “You need me to bring anything?”

You heave it straight back at him, hopefully hard enough to bruise. “Tranquilizer gun, if you’ve got one.”

“Can get something even stronger, if it’s a party you’re after.”

Your eyes thin. “Wouldn’t be my mom’s favorite for much longer if she found out you were doing coke in her backyard.”

Frankie smiles. That trademark Catfish grin. “I’ve done worse in her kitchen, baby.”

He’s so goddamn cocky. So full of it, it makes you want to scream. He studies you, eyes shadowed by his cap. His hair flicks out around his ears, dark curls doused in golden sunlight.

When your eyes trace the shape of his jaw, the wiry hair above his top lip – the faint flicker of a memory glows across your skin.

The weight of his hand on your stomach, pinning you to the bed. The bristling feeling ghosting the inside of your thighs. Your desperate wet, his tongue covering ground across your body like claiming territory.

Every shade of wrong. Ignoring every atom in your body – betraying every version of yourself for ten minutes of euphoria. He brought every numb nerve under your skin to attention, the second he knelt between your knees.

But he’s looking at you now, the same way he did the other night. It’s boyish and dangerous. A naked match just waiting to fall.

Maybe you’re waiting for an excuse to drop it.

Frankie gives his cap a quick tug, and makes off for his truck.

“See you at seven, Garcia.”

Daylight melts into dusk and with it, goes the sharp sting of summer. A pale blue rolls across the horizon, covering the yard in a hazy sort of chill. A relieving breeze, like satin over newly burned skin.

You’re still fucking sweating.

“Are you going to help me, or you just gonna lie there and text your girlfriend?” you call across the yard.

The dark figure spilling over the edge of the hammock grunts in response.

“Santi.”

Your brother groans, rolling free from the marigold fabric. He strides across the lawn, swinging an arm down to ruffle Ange’s ears. “Not a girlfriend,” he says, slipping his phone into his back pocket. “She’s…she’s more of a…”

You lift your hand. “Not something I need to know.”

He laughs and looks at the spread on the table. He lifts the corner of a tricolor napkin, straightens a plastic fork. The foil over the hamburger buns crinkles. “We did a good job. Looks great.”

“We?” You scoff, slapping his wrist away. “Yeah, me and the fucking dog, more like.”

“How much did it all come to? The food and shit?”

You shrug. “Like, forty dollars. I don’t know.”

“Gave you sixty. Where’s my change?”

You frown, hands on your hips. “If you don’t know how to budget properly, that’s not my problem.”

“And if you don’t know when to just lie and say you spent it all, that’s not mine. Twenty bucks, kid.” He holds his hand out, fingers beckoning.

The squeal of the gate interrupts, followed by a barrage of voices. Will and Benny and Mal and – as you lean back to watch them parade through the yard, you spot the figure of Frankie at their heels.

“Pope?” Will calls. “Pope, do me a favor. Remind me which one of us threw up at Busch Gardens that one time. Remember – right after we rode Gwazi?”

Santiago chuckles. “I remember Mallory wearing her raspberry slushie.”

Will guffaws in Mal’s face.

“I spit up!” she protests. “I spit up in a flowerbed. I was not wearing my slushie.”

“You were fluorescent pink the whole day,” Will says. He slings an arm around your shoulders. “You remember, lil Santi?”

You frown. Yeah, you fucking remember.

You remember being forced to sit between Frankie and Mal the entire way home. Santiago got dibs on the front seat by pretending he was carsick, and Mal had to sit by an open window so she didn’t stink your dad’s car out with all her raspberry-flavored puke.

You and Frankie bickered the whole journey. Both absolutely certain that the other was leaning too far over your seats. Your dad vowed he’d never let you both in his car at the same time, ever again.

“Mhm,” you grit, shooting daggers at your best friend.

She mouths a Sorry, and then places her salad bowl in the middle of the table. “Enough about throwing up. I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

The boys spend twenty minutes arguing over how the barbecue works, before a single bit of food is cooked. You and Mal watch from the table, sneaking Ange slices of cheese and giggling when Will and Benny break into their fifth argument of the night.

Santi and Frankie take charge, shoving the brothers out of the way.

Pope passes over the meat, while Frankie mans the grill. He lifts his cap and wipes his brow with his bicep, giving his head a shake as he flips burgers and turns sausages.

And no, you’re not watching him. You’re focused on Mal and her story about some guy from work. Or – it might be a guy from her yoga class. The instructor, maybe? You’re not sure. Frankie just flapped the collar of his shirt and the hem lifted, exposing a sliver of his tummy.

You’re not watching him, though.

He runs his tongue along his top lip, focusing on the sizzle and spatter of the grill. His arm tenses, turning the tongs over and over. Wide shoulders stretch when he reaches for a plate.

He’s laughing quietly at whatever Santi’s babbling about at his side. His eyes are stuck on the barbecue in front of him. His fingers twirl around the tongs again. He never looked so lean and so broad and so fucking different, all at once.

Weird different. Good different?

You feel your cheeks flush with heat. This time, it’s not so much anger, as it is –

Oh, shit.

Mal gets up for a refill at the same time Santiago jogs inside to grab more meat. You and Frankie are alone on the patio – Will and Benny are kicking a ball for Ange to chase on the grass.

Morales turns, and you instantly stare down at your beer. You take a forceful swig as he approaches.

“Hotdog?” he asks, holding a plate down to you.

“Huh?”

He glares at you and scoffs. “Are you dumb? Hotdog.” He slips it onto the table in front of you.

You squint at the grill marks, and then squint up at Frankie. Puzzled and…offended, at the same time. You come back to your body with a jolt. “Why the hell are you–? Have you laced it with something?”

He shoots a glance over his shoulder, tongue between his teeth. “No, I haven’t fucking laced it with anything. I just figured you should have the first one, since you put all this on for us. But – Jesus, give me it.”

Your fingers lock around the paper plate when he tries to steal it back. For all that he’s a dick and might actually try to poison you – you’re fucking starving.

You figure you can stomach the poison.

Frankie sighs. He lets go. “I’m tryna be nice, alright? You know nice?”

“I know nice. You’re not it.”

“Shut up and eat your hotdog, lil Santi.”

You mimic him in a squeak as he strolls off, shaking his head. Still, the second he’s back at the grill, you rip into the hotdog.

Frankie stays at the opposite end of the table for the entire meal – closest seat to the barbecue, and furthest seat from you. There’s too much chatter, too much hilarity being thrown back and forth between you for either of you to kick up a row.

Probably better for the guys’ sakes, but – you want to fucking row.

It’s like a hit, now. A rush of electricity, any time Frankie looks at you for longer than it takes his face to twist into a grimace. You’re hunting for ways to ignite something – anything. Looking for an excuse to drop that naked match and set the whole thing alight.

Because it’s fun, when you’re in the heat of it. Feeling his eyes on you, as hot and angry as flames. Being suffocated by the smoke of it all; breathing in less and less air and more…him.

And, anyway – who knows you better than the one person who pisses you off the most?

As the sun is snuffed by the heavy hand of dusk, you disappear to a quieter corner of the yard. Tucked between two thick beech trees, you throw yourself into the hammock – one leg draped over the side, swinging idly through the night air.

A beer bottle balanced on your tummy, the round base seeping a chilled ring into your shirt. The swish of leaves overhead and the annoying midges at your ears for company.

That is – until the sound of footsteps over crisp grass, and the creak of an old, splintered garden chair disturb your peace.

Frankie adjusts his cap, flatting his fringe beneath it, and sits back. “You never change, do you, Garcia? Still the same little longer you always were.”

You hold your hands out, gulping back beer – and glee. “Can I fucking help you? I’m minding my own business.”

“Thought you might want some company.”

“Not yours, dickhead. You think I’m way the hell over here ‘cause I wanted you to come annoy me?”

He hums, picking at a flake of paint on the armrest. “Sure wanted me to annoy you the other night.”

“Alright,” you clip. “Cheap shot. You been practicing that one all afternoon?”

“Since I saw you at the store.”

You roll your eyes.

Frankie slips a cigarette from its pack and lights it, tipping his chin to blow a white cloud to the sky. “You’re too much fun,” he tells the stars.

You squint through the dark, staring at the glowing cherry. “What?”

“You. You get so pissed, so easily. Always have.”

“Well, you antagonize me. Always have.”

His cheeks lift. It’s something softer than a smirk, still laced with too much attitude to be a smile. “That’s ‘cause you were always around. Everywhere Santi went, there you were. Closer than his shadow.”

“Well,” you glower, “’s what happens when you have a big brother. You’re void of love; I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“No, I get it,” he says. “It just got fun to mess with you, after a while.”

“Uhuh,” you take another swig, “so is that what you’re doing? Messing with me?”

Frankie’s shoulders jump. “You tell me. There were two of us in your room that night.”

You swing your legs down to the grass. It’s brittle under your socks when you stand, still focusing on the end of his cigarette. “Damn, you really can’t shut up about it, can you? How many times have you tugged one to the thought of it?”

“Tugged one,” he snickers, but he seems nervous – watching as you approach. “What age are you?”

You push his knees wider, slotting between his thighs. “Which part does it for you? What sends you over the edge?”

“Come on, lil Santi,” Frankie says, averting his eye. “You’re embarrassing yourself now.”

One knee up, resting on the crease of his jeans. You lean forward and nudge his hip, lay your hands gently on his shoulders. “I bet you still hear me in your dreams.”

He scans up and down your body, lingering on your bare thigh. “Not – not gonna work, kid,” he promises, shaking his head. “You still annoy the fuck outta me.”

“Right, right.” You pinch the pale stick from between his teeth. “’cause nothing’s changed, yeah?”

His head sways in agreement. He’s distracted, watching as you lift your hand to your mouth.

You smile down at him. “’cept you know how I taste now, so.”

You slot the damp end of the cigarette between your lips and suck. Sharp, acrid heat sails over your tongue and down your throat, filling your chest in one inhale. You cough a little, batting the smoke as you blow it out.

“Tastes fucking disgusting,” you croak. “How can you smoke these?”

Frankie’s eyes never leave your lips. “You get used to it.”

You take another draw, letting the smoke soar through the space between you. “Gross,” you say, and prop the cig back between his lips. “Just like you!”

“Sh…shut up,” he groans, adjusting in his seat.

“Make me.”

But he doesn’t bite. Doesn’t flinch. He just stares back, rolling the smoldering stick between his thumb and finger. Running his tongue along his teeth.

You spill the last of your beer onto your tongue, cocking an eyebrow at him, and push from his lap.

You make it no more than five steps, before that same weight from the parking lot is around your shoulders.

He pings the cigarette somewhere in the grass, and grabs onto your elbow.

“Fran– Jesus – Where are we–?”

He drags you through the dull dusk to the other side of the lawn, ignoring the click of the motion sensor. You’re thrown through a wooden door onto cold concrete before the yard light floods over you.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust. Weak slivers of moonlight illuminate each tool hanging from the wall. The fairy lights outside lose their battle against the darkness the second they creep through the window.

Before you can sling something mocking at him, Frankie has you pinned against the wall.

“You want me to make you shut up?” he growls, teeth grazing your neck. His fingers slip behind the waist of your shorts, plucking at the button. “I’ll make you shut up. Make you shut up all goddamn night.”

“Frankie,” you gasp, grabbing hold of his shirt. You push on his chest, walking him backwards over to the workbench.

The thing shudders when he rocks against it.

“The fuck are you doing?” he murmurs, watching as you kneel before him.

“Getting used to it,” you reply.

You pull his belt apart, loosen the fly on his pants, and pull until they’re low on his hips.

Frankie holds onto the bench with a white-knuckle grip. He lays his hand over the crown of your head, rubbing small circles. A laugh slips across his tongue. “This what you’ve been thinkin’ about?”

You ignore him, instead focusing on the solid shape in his underwear.

His hips flinch when you drag your palm along it. He’s hard already. He hisses at your cold fingers on his stomach, tensing as your knuckles skim below the elastic.

And then…he’s in your palm. All of him. Frankie fucking Morales.

You’re trying not to think too deep about it.

Your fingers wrap around him, barely meeting around his width, and you slip him from his boxers.

His cock springs free, swaying once, twice – then settling to the right.

Your mouth fills with saliva. Suddenly – there’s no way not to think too deep about it.

He’s…he’s big. He’s thick; smooth and sculpted, veins trailing around his shaft. It’s not like you ever considered what he’s walking around with before, but looking at it now – you can’t believe it’s him.

Without thinking, you lean in and kiss him all the way down to the hair at his base. A wet trail, lips curving around the size of him. You run your tongue up and down, circling the tip and toying with it.

Frankie cups your cheek. “Pretty little mouth,” he utters. “Put it to good use, huh?”

You don’t need him to ask twice.

You sink down on him. Every inch of him – every aching, choking inch. Your jaw slackens to take him; nails digging into his thighs when he bumps the back of your throat.

“Oh, shit, baby,” he hisses. His hand comes down on your head a little too heavily.

You yelp and pull back, gasping when he slips out. “Prick,” you breathe, closing your lips around his tip again.

“Just too sweet with it,” he murmurs, guiding himself back across your tongue.

You suckle on him, using your hands to pump the inches your mouth can’t take.

Frankie’s head tips back, panting at the roof. His hips thrust to meet your movements. “Feels so – goddamn – good,” he moans, and you hum with glee.

You take his balls in your hands, kneading them as you work your way lower. He’s so deep in your mouth that it makes your eyes water. Each slip of his tip against the back of your throat makes you gag, pulls a lewd, muffled sound from your chest.

It shouldn’t feel like this. You shouldn’t be enjoying it this much. But he’s falling apart under your fingertips, he’s unwinding right before you. He’s whispering your name, begging you not to stop. Just like that, just like that, just like that. Oh, fuck, just like that.

It’s addictive. Now that you know how he looks, how he feels, you’ll never go back to before. When the most thrill he gave you was a burning temper; feeling your pulse jump in your throat with rage.

This – whatever the fuck this is – is all you know, now. Pulling threads from one another, watching the way they unravel. Watching each other unravel. Flashes of eye contact, salt and slick and sex dripping from every secret word.

Frankie’s hips jerk. His cock spasms.

You don’t want him to come down your throat. You don’t want him to climax when he’s too deep for you to taste it.

You want him all over – your lips, your tongue, dribbling down your chin. You want to mix him with your saliva and swallow; warm, salty, Frankie.

He got his taste. Now you want yours.

You bring your hands up to his thighs, purposefully pushing back off him.

His grip loosens, and he looks down. Brows low and close, eyes blown wide like he’s higher than any drug could take him.

He’s as addicted as you are.

“My mouth,” you mumble, head of his cock circling your glistening lips. “In my mouth.”

“Yeah?” he says, and the weight of his cock slaps on your bottom lip. “That where you want it, baby?”

“Mhm.” You wrap your lips back around him.

“Fuckin’ filthy,” Frankie spits, laughing. “Shit – just like that. Yeah, that’s it.”

Three, four more soaking strokes of your tongue and he’s twitching again.

You pull back only enough to rest his tip on your tongue, feeling the pulsing heat as he comes. Watching the way his face tightens, the pull of his brows as it overcomes him.

His eyes stay locked on you. Your fluttering lashes, your puffy, glossy lips. He fills your mouth and then some – semen spilling from the corners and dribbling down your jaw. And the sound he makes – this broken, scattered moan, bordering on a fucking whimper – is fucking perfect.

Frankie’s hand locks at the base of your skull, holding you steady until he’s done. His cock slips from your bottom lip. He gives one last satisfied sigh, petting your head as you stroke him slowly, tenderly – swiping kitten licks at the dripping mess of him.

“Fuck,” he moans, letting his eyes close over. His weight slumps against the workbench. “The fuck do you spend so much time yapping for when you’re that good with your mouth?”

You hum in amusement, tongue dragging along the underside of his cock. He’s softening, but still a decent size. Still a weight to it that makes your cunt clench around nothing.

One last little kiss, and you tuck him back into his boxers. You drag the back of your hand across your chin.

Frankie holds his hands out, and you pull yourself up. He fixes himself into his jeans, turning away to do up his belt. He had his cock in your throat two minutes ago, and here he is pretending to be shy.

He turns back around, half disappeared to the dark shed. “I, uh…I don’t want you to think that I came here just to…just for that.”

Your tongue dabs at the inside of your cheek, all salty. “Then this is awkward, ‘cause that’s the only reason I hadn’t kicked you out yet.”

He laughs, dropping your gaze. “You…” he shakes his head, “…are such a little shit, you know that?”

It’s nicer than he would’ve worded it half an hour ago. But still – having an exchange with Frankie that doesn’t involve spitting insults or jagged glares, warms your blood in a way that’s new and…unsettling.

“We should probably…” You toss a thumb over your shoulder, eyes flitting to the string bulbs outside. “We don’t want them wondering what’s…you know.”

He nods and strides over to the door. The wood squeals against concrete as he pulls it open.

The summer swirls around you again, sweetening the stuffy heat of the shed. Mal’s voice surfs through the breeze – she’s still arguing over the Busch Gardens story.

You make to step out, and Frankie’s arm halts you.

He opens his palm. “Even,” he tells you. “We’re even.”

He seems sure of himself. Sure of you. He looks you in the eye and doesn’t blink.

You smirk. Your hand slips into his, letting him shake your fist once. You stare straight back at him.

“We’re just getting fucking started, Francisco.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales fic #frankie morales smut #bbf!frankie #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fic

[ev3rgreenxtrees]

First Choice

-M.S {pt 1}

Synopsis: Your best friends with Nicolas Sturniolo. He’s been your best friend since the third grade— you’re now in your senior year. What happens when the brother you don’t get along with all of the sudden needs you to fake date him?

Pairing: good girl!fem!reader (she/her) X bad boy!Matt Sturniolo

Warnings: Cussing, arguments (not angst. yet.), slightly suggestive, cigarettes, mentions of alcohol and drugs, use of Y/N.

<*•*>

“Please, Y/N..” Matt begged, his eyes pleading— unlike how you’ve ever seen him. He’s always been such an asshole to you. Since you’ve been friends with his brother, Nick. On the other hand, Chris was sweet. You never understood why Matt couldn’t be like Chris.

But here you are. Matt was now begging you to be his fake girlfriend. You weren’t sure why he wanted you to, or why he needed anyone to, in that matter.

“Why, Matt? What am I getting out of it?” You scowl, annoyed at the boy, who refused to let you leave the now empty classroom. All of your other classmates were already at lunch, but matt stopped you to ask this ridiculous question.

“Well- I..” Matt sighed, embarrassed in himself. Matt was a very good looking guy, and had his fair share of hookups and girlfriends, but never once did you think he’d be begging you to fake date him. Ever.

“Don’t you dare fucking tell me it’s to get back at your girlfriend.” You state annoyed, just wanting to head to lunch.

“Well, not really..” Matt mumbled. “Okay. Listen to me.” The boy states, as if he hadn’t already had your full attention. “Me and Lacey broke up— obviously, and everyone was teasing me for it, saying I fumbled and shit. Like, Nate, Jordan, Kyle, and even fuckin’ Chris wouldn’t keep his mouth shut, so.. I may have accidentally told them I already have a new girlfriend..” Matt mumbles shyly, and you couldn’t help but snicker.

“No fucking way.” You squeak, trying to hold back your laughter. “You fumbled bad, and your friends are fuckin’ with you for it, so you want me to help you? When have you ever gave a fuck about helping me? All those times I needed a ride or something from the store when you were already out?” You scoffed.

“Y/N, please..” He whines. “c’mon, I’m beggin’ ya..” He pleads. “Fuck, I’ll even get on my knees if ya want me to,”

“Matt, get the fuck up.” You demand, feeling awkward about him kneeling down in front of you. Part of you, however, thought it was cute. The way his hands were intertwined tightly, his hair covering his eyes slightly, but from what you could see of them, he was looking up at you longingly. “Matt. Up.” You demanded more stern this time.

He obliges, quickly standing up in front of you, a glint of hope in his eyes.

“Why me..? Why am I your first choice?” You question. It wasn’t a random question. If you were to agree, this would be something you feel is need-to-know.

“You’re the most believable. Not because your looks or anything like that, but because I’ve known you longest.” He tells you, but the way he speaks makes you think he’s not telling you the complete truth.. but close enough- right?

“Okay— But first, we have to lay ground rules. No kissing me, at all. Second, not too much PDA. I hate PDA in general; and it doesn’t help that we’re not actually dating. Third, pet names and stuff are fine, but never get cocky with me. Okay?” I ask, keeping my voice clear. Being truthful, I wasn’t so sure why I agreed to help him. But I did.

“Really? Thank you!” The boy squeals happily, pulling you into a hug. You tense at his touch, something you haven’t felt before. It wasn’t bad— but it was definitely new. He continues to mumble small ‘thank you’s, before letting you go. “Can you sit by me at lunch? It’ll make it more believable.” He asks.

You reluctantly agree, not quite sure how he was so open to asking you things like this. Asking someone to ‘fake date’ you is something you’d have to work up years of courage to ask someone to do. He immediately slips your hand in his, pulling you out of the empty classroom— the same one he had pulled you into randomly moments before.

You look down at his hand in yours as he wandered down the halls, pulling you behind him. He looked so happy. When you both arrived into the packed commons, he pulled you to the table he usually sat at, your friends giving you an odd look as you strolled right past them, hand-in-hand with your sworn enemy.

The table Matt sat at consisted of his closest friends, Nate, Jordan, Kyle, Luke, Nicky, and his brothers, Nick and Chris. You weren’t familiar with Kyle, Jordan, or Luke, but Nate and Nicky sometimes came over to the triplets house when you were hanging out with Nick.

“Y/n..!” Nick yells, but his voice quickly trailing off. “Matt..?” He says in an unsure tone, his head tilting. “Why are you here?” He questions.

“Guys,” Matt speaks up, grabbing everyones’ attention. “This is the girlfriend I was telling you about.” He states proudly, but almost seemingly unsure of himself. Girlfriend. It sounds different hearing it from him.

“No fucking way.” Nick gapes, his jaw slack.

“Yes fucking way.” Matt teases, before taking his usual seat. “Hold on. You can sit here, sweetheart. I’ll go grab myself a different chair.” He hums, standing back up from his seat after he realizes there was no open seats.

You were taken slightly aback. Obviously Matt would have to act like this, since you were ‘dating’, but it was something you definitely weren’t used to.

“Y/N! You’re insane!” Nick says, holding back a laugh. Your leg bounced slightly as you realized everyone at the table was staring at you.

“Hm? How so?” You asked confused. Was Matt not a good person to date? Obviously he wasn’t nice to you, but thats because you hate each other. He always seemed so sweet and gentle around his ex.

“Matt..?” Nick furrowed his eyebrows judgmentally. “You guys.. hate eachother..?” He questions.

“No, we obviously don’t, Nick.” You correct sweetly, as Matt pulls over a chair to sit next to you. Matt almost immediately noticed that your leg was bouncing, so he gently rested one of his hands on your knees reassuringly.

Even though you told him not to touch you, you do find his touch quite soothing. You glance over at him, and he offers you a slight nod, before his attention goes back to the table full of his friends. Maybe— Just maybe— this whole ‘fake dating’ with Matt wasn’t such a horrible decision after all.

『 ↳✧･ﾟ Finn yaps❕ ;

sorry this chapter is kinda short, i just wanted to make the first chapter shorter and show how the fake dating came to be <3

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ I do NOT give permission for my work to be published on any other site, nor to be claimed as your own . However , reblogs , likes , and comments are much appreciated ! 🤍

ੈ✩‧₊˚ @bernardenjoyer @lovely-calypso @slut4mattsturn @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @75sturn @thenickgirl

divider creds to @v6que 🤍

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #fanfic #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #fluff #angst #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt x y/n #matt x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗦 - part four lando norris x  fem! streamer! reader (fluff) “. . . lando finds himself addicted to playing video games with this girl he cant get out of his head.”

(warning, tumblr posted this out of my drafts by accident. it's not completed. I will finish it soon)

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this is pointless, he though tiredly as he turned to sleep on his other side only to feel frustrated answer boil in him soon enough. Lando's been restless for a good few hours now and he feels like he's losing his mind. The Japanese qualifying just ended and he still couldn't shut his eyes for the day.

He felt angry, and agitated. he didn't even know what drove him to pick up his phone and dial you. What was that going to solve, bothering you with his problems? Besides, it's a bad idea because it's 1am at yours. He'll just hang up and pray that sleep takes him.

his phone didn't stay on his nightstand for long because as soon as you called back he had practically smashed the green button and pressed the phone to his ear. Lando opened his mouth ready to throw complaints, only to stop short hearing you yawn, which he hated to admit too his heart rate down.

"It's one in the morning, Lan." You yawned, shuffling to find a comfortable position where you didn't have to hold your phone up. "I know— I'm sorry." the brit sighed, rubbing his eye, laying on his back and looking up at the celling. "I'm sorry I woke you up." his voice came off as soft, he was clearly sorry. You could hear how tired and exhausted he was from his voice too.

"No it's ok," you shook your head. "Tell me what's wrong." Lando sighed, staying silent for a few minutes, trying to search through his thoughts. Why was he feeling this way?

"I saw the race." You hum after a few moments, snuggling into your bedsheets as your phone rested on the pillow somewhere beside you. "That overtake on Hamilton was amazing, in turn one." Your little chuckle made lando's heart skip a beat as he rested his hands behind his head, staring up at the celling.

"I was watching on the tv and my roomate thought I was crazy. Maybe I was being a bit too loud. Maybe I wanted my voice to reach you so you could go faster." You joked giggling. Lando found himself smiling at the thought, imagining you jumping and cheering for him.

"How would I go any faster?" Lando chuckled, feeling his muscles relax and his eyes close.

"I don't know? You're Lando Norris. You drive super fast cars." You tease making lando laugh at your refence to his twitter bio. How you do it, he'll never understand. The call has only been on for 13 minutes and you've already made him feel better and lighter.

"Yeah," he nodded agreeing, feeling his smile widen. Yeah, he definitely felt much better now that you're here, even if you're not physically present.

It was as if you were mending him with magic. Not witch stitches or with bandages, or glue. No need for needle and thread, or having to change gauze or having to put layers of glue. You made lando feel as if he was glowing.

"What's your favorite movie?" He asked out of nowhere. You took a second or two before giving your answer. "I think I'll pick . . . la la land." you hummed as you shifted to sleep on your other side, l

#‧˚⊹🪴 ଓ :: 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 ‧₊˚⤾ #﹒and they were streamers ﹒𐙚 #lando norris #lando #LN4 #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #ln4 x reader #formula 1 #formula racing #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris f1 #lando norris fluff #lando fluff #lando norris smut #f1 smut #formula one smut #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #sub!lando #formula one x reader