#“as long as you don’t ask for close up shots” proceeds to ask

[mysteriousrainsworld]

random thought but don’t u think photographers would have really nice arms from holding all that heavy equipment …

mmmmmm been thinkin abt photographer!san right nd he is know for his boudoir photography but his latest client’s got him in a chokehold like god how is she so fuckin sexy nd he can’t focus at all bc fuck all he wants to do is fuck her senseless— HELP

Your wish is my command Angel! Thank you for being patient 😘

As always, enjoy 🩷

snap.

<Choi san x fem!reader>

Synopsis: encouraged by your friend, you give boudoir photography a try after recovering from a break up, you find yourself doing more than just be a model.

Genres/warnings: smut, boudoir photographer!San x model!reader, sexual tension, unprotected sex, cream pies, mention of oral

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies

“Boudoir photography?” You reiterate. Your friend nods.

“A friend of a friend of a friend tried it recently and apparently she’s been full of confidence. Her boyfriend adores it too!” Your friend squeals.

You scrunch your eyebrows, wondering how semi-nude photos taken by a professional photographer in this niche would boost one’s confidence.

Your friend’s eyes dart to you again, and then your phone pings. You look at the link your friend sent you. It’s a referral code for a promotion. You turn to her, gaze still dripping with skepticism.

“Come on, just try it. You’re a lovely person and you deserve to see it for yourself! Boudoir photography might really help at not being constantly self critical.”

You weren’t an entirely insecure person, and you were sure of that. It’s just that, after the rough break up with your ex, and seeing them move on instantly (like two fuckin weeks) with a new partner, undoubtedly was a gut punch to your self esteem, while you were still stuck grieving over the lost relationship and wasted time.

You’ve heard of boudoir photography, but you’ve never actually understood the concept of it, considering that it was niche, and that you don’t really know the point of it. You glance down at the referral link before deciding to just fuck it and sign up.

San is working overtime again, meticulously editing and touching up the photos. It’s become a natural part of him to almost be a perfectionist, whether when on the ground taking photos of the model or the post editing process. But he never loses the sight of letting the women shine naturally through their photos. After all, in such a niche market, they picked him. Definitely, he has his mix of male boudoir models, but the women evidently take up a higher ratio. He understands that one of the most important aspects of boudoir photography is trust and comfort with his models, which has them coming back for more sessions, sometimes even with their partners.

Setting up his own business in such a niche market was difficult of course, and he’s grateful that he’s managed to make a name for himself. But sometimes he’s grateful that his good looks are an added bonus to drawing in his clients.

His email pings and it makes him pause his work. Maybe he should finish it tomorrow. San glances at the fresh email that sits in his inbox.

An appointment via referral.

He opens it, and looks through the client’s information. At the bottom box for comments, sits a short question.

[Just wondering, what should I expect for my appointment? Is there anything I should prepare?]

He takes a moment before he drafts a reply.

[Hey there! Nice to meet you. I’m Choi San, boudoir photographer of Woodie’s Studios. First of all, thank you for choosing our studio for your boudoir experience!

Regarding your question, come in with an open mind. For what to wear, you may bring a set of clothes/lingerie of whatever you feel confident in.

I don’t bite, I promise!]

He reads the reply a second time before he hits send. It’s not as if it’s the first time he’s gotten questions like these anyway. His train of concentration is broken, so he decides to call it a night.

You reach the opaque door of a clean-looking studio apartment. The sign has San’s studio name and logo imprinted on it, so you’re sure that you are at the right location.

You press the door bell and it chimes a lovely tune. There is a quiet pause, before the door handle clicks and the door itself pulls back. Before you stood a really, no, an insanely good looking, tall male. His glasses rest loosely on the bridge of his nose as his small eyes meet yours. His brunette hair is slightly messy. He wears an expression of confusion at first, but it turns into something unreadable. You think for a spilt second that he may have gotten the wrong client, but your rationale reminds you that you did send him photos of yourself so he’s able to recognise you. You blink once, then twice because you were starting to get lost at how handsome your photographer was.

“Choi San..?” you say, with a small tilt of your head.

Then it’s his turn to blink, and he snaps out of that small trance he seemed to be caught in for a few seconds. Then a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he greets you.

“Hey! Y/n right? Sorry, was tryna recognise you. I promise I don’t usually take that long to process”, he chuckles, pulling the door wider as he ushers you in, reminding you to switch out your shoes for the apartment slippers.

The hallway San brings you down is brightly lit and spilt into a couple of sections which you assumed one of them would be the photo studio itself. A couple of posters of pin up girls hang on the walls, all of them beautiful and stunning.

He then stops at a glass door and pushes it, to what you assumed to be his office.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you a cup of tea. Any preferences?”, he gestures. You shake your head as you let yourself sink into the velvet couch, gingerly leaving your bag of clothing beside you. San gives a polite nod and excuses himself to the pantry.

And the moment the door shuts behind him, he tears his glasses off the bridge of his nose and hooks the branch onto his collar.

His hand is placed over his heart.

San has photographed many different women over the course of his career, some breathtakingly beautiful. But none has ever made his heart skip a beat and caused his words to be stuck at the back of his throat, not like you did. He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how you looked like—the pictures you sent served that purpose. Maybe it was the fact that he never expected you to look like that in real life, and for once, he almost doesn’t know how to react. His thoughts are all over the place as he paces into the pantry to prepare your tea. As he’s dipping the tea bag into the piping hot water, he begins feeling self conscious—was his hair too shrivelled? Did he smell bad? Was there something on his face? He tightens his grip on the mug and hastily makes his way back to his office.

San returns, with a smile on his face as he settles the cup onto the coffee table before you, and he joins you, seated on a velvet armchair across you.

“Take your time”, he reassures. “We can start after this, if you’re feeling comfortable, or we can just talk a little to ease your nerves.” It doesn’t take you much to think—you opt for the latter of course.

San laughs and nods. “I get that a lot, especially from first time female clients. It’s valid of course, having a male being your photographer for boudoir can sound off-putting. Perhaps looking at my portfolio might put you slightly at ease?” He reaches out for a large and thick leather-bound photo album. You let it rest on your lap as you receive it with a soft “thank you”, and flip the album open, and you’re instantly awestruck—San’s work spoke for himself. The models were diverse, both in nationalities and body shapes, all equally stunning and sensual in their own expressive ways. The only common denominator was the glint of genuine emotion and confidence reflected in their eyes.

You wonder to yourself—could you look and feel as confident as them? As you skim through the pictures, you feel yourself falling in love with the models as well—their genuine smiles when they do and the gazes they give.

When San catches himself staring at you being absorbed in admiring his portfolios, he feels his cheeks flush and he looks down, wondering what you think of it all.

“I see why you have so many clients. The pictures are gorgeous”, you say, shutting the photo album and handing it back to him. San flashes a sheepish smile and mutters a “thank you” loud enough for you to hear. The silence in the room remains a for awhile as you sip the tea, letting it calm your nerves. You don’t even know it but the person with actual jittery nerves was San himself, a feeling that he never expected to feel since the last time he did was when he started out this business three years ago.

“So… what’s the goal of being a boudoir model, if you don’t mind me asking? Like was it a long time thing you wanted to try or was it something spontaneous?” He asks to break the silence.

“I broke up with my ex recently”, you respond curtly, before taking another sip of the tea. Damn, this is some good ass tea. San blinks at your reply, unsure of what to make out of the bluntness. Before he attempts to reply, you continue, “and my friend sent me a referral to your studio, and I thought to myself, why not? I want to feel confident in my own skin. Also, I think it’s an interesting way of self exploration.” Your gaze meets his, and it’s his turn to look awestruck. You try to ignore the flutter in your chest when he laughs softly, when his smile reaches his eyes. It’s the way that he’s confident of his craft, and it’s making you warm up to him even more.

Your fingertips tap on the mug softly. Your gaze lands on the photobook once more.

“Does taking such risqué pictures affect you when you first started out?” You ask before taking another sip. San ponders about the question for awhile. He has people asking him that before, but for some reason, he wants to be slightly more transparent with you.

“I don’t see about my clients in a sexual way, even if they physically look appealing to me. In the end, self confidence and comfort always comes first, and I think that’s what I enjoy seeing in my clients when they become more comfortable in their own skin. People don’t understand how difficult it is to fully love yourself”, he replies.

That’s when you understand why San’s photography studio had so many recurring clients.

“Why boudoir? I think sensuality and intimacy is a form of art. It’s beautiful—watching people discover parts of themselves they never knew existed and falling in love. You don’t have to be conventionally attractive to be a boudoir model.

The money’s good, of course, but the satisfaction of watching my clients giving me feedback of them realising they deserve to love themselves more, or discovering other sides of themselves is nothing short of rewarding.”

By the time he’s done explaining, you feel a rush of confidence in yourself. It’s only been about ten minutes since the both of you just sat and talked, but you see that he definitely prioritises your comfort before he even begins the sessions. You ball your fingers into a fist, meeting San’s gaze with determination, telling him, “I think I’m ready.”

San’s eyes brighten up. “Great! You can use the bathroom to the left, and I’ll meet you at the photo studio just opposite the office.” He stands up, opening the door for you, and you bow slightly in courtesy as you head to the washroom to change. San’s heart beats faster, wondering what you’re gonna wear for the shoot.

San is fixing the sheets of the bed, then the studio lights at the perfect angle he wants it to be. His heart is still racing as he walks over to the tripod, glancing over at the door from time to time, awaiting for your arrival.

He perks up when he sees you walk in with a bathrobe on and he greets you cheerfully again, trying to hide his excitement.

You wave back with a smile, letting the environment of the photo studio sink in. The basic package for first timers consisted of a bed shoot, so it’s no surprise you see a bed in the middle of the room, covered in white. The bed looks comfy and you giggle to yourself, wondering if you’d end up falling asleep mid-shoot from how nice the bed looks.

“Anytime you’re ready”, San reminds you, carrying the tripod in one hand, his biceps flexing as he does, and it makes you blush slightly, which was ridiculous. Why are you swooning over your handsome photographer carrying the tripod with one arm? Suddenly you’re self conscious again, your fingers clutching against the black bathrobe. It was frustrating that you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was making you nervous, but you weren’t about to back out.

San continues to adjust his camera on the tripod, and his gaze absentmindedly shifts towards you, and his breath gets stuck in his throat, watching you undress from the bathrobe, revealing a white button up over black lace lingerie. It’s not anything new, but for some reason he can’t seem to tear his eyes off you—the way the panties hugs your hips and the bra cups your breasts, the garter belt hugging your waist and the straps hanging past your panties. He watches you climb onto the bed, eyes shutting briefly as you sink into the mattress with a soft smile.

He’s not confident that he’s able to last through the shoot, not when you’re looking like that.

“Is it too cold here?” San asks, trying to divert his attention from his perverse thoughts. You pop up from the sheets, the collars of the shirt slipping past your shoulders, obviously too big for you. That does nothing to help him with his thoughts.

“No, I think the temperature’s okay. Shall we get started?” You ask, buttoning up your shirt, the white material pathetically sheer that San is able to see the black bra peeking through.

The sight of you in an oversized shirt on, with no pants, just your underwear on is like a meal for San’s eyes. He hides behind the camera to hide his flushing cheeks, only to face your body through the viewfinder, watching you preparing to pose as you position yourself at the end of the bed, turning your body slightly to the side with one leg up, your thighs in full view, with the sleeves of the shirt covering most of your fingers, and your gaze right into the camera lens.

San takes a deep breath. Forty five minutes. He can do this.

“Sure. Ready whenever you are, y/n.”

It turns out to be a very agonising forty five minutes. While the both of you were cracking jokes during the shoot, San finds himself getting more distracted when you gradually remove your shirt, and when your poses grow ever more risqué—at one point you remove your bra and fit your shirt over again, which definitely made San grow very restless when he’s unable to tear his eyes away from your bare chest.

Midway through the shoot, all that swarms his mind is wondering how your body would feel against his, how your bare skin would feel under his hands, what kind of faces you would make when you’re under him.

What kind of noises you would make for him when he fits his cock right into you. He wants to fuck you so hard that your mind goes blank—so good that you’ll never remember your ex.

San blinks, his finger still on the shutter button. He doesn’t know what washed over him, but what he does know is the taut feeling in his pants, and he internally heaves a sigh of relief that he decided to wear cargo pants. Nonetheless, he hopes that it isn’t obvious. Well, it shouldn’t be, as long as you don’t ask for close up shots.

“San! Could you come closer for my close ups?” You call out, letting the collar of your shirt fall off your shoulder once more, revealing your bare shoulders, and reminding him that you were still braless underneath the loose clothing article.

Fuck.

San forces a smile, unlatching his camera and trying to walk normally without letting his erection steal your attention.

He reaches to where you are, reminding himself to stay professional, but when he meets your playful gaze, all he wants to do is pin you down. Your eyes twinkle with allure as you prepare your next pose. You get it now—the confidence that slowly trickles into you after every photo taken. You’ve never realised that you had this side of yourself, not until now, and you love it.

The close up shots only spell another layer of doom for San—he adores the budding confidence that you exude, but it makes it even harder for him to hold back, watching you make sultry expressions and poses close up. Through the viewfinder, his eyes try to focus on taking the photo but he finds himself being entranced by your stare. He counts down, then taking a few shots, not missing the growing smile you had.

San puts his camera away, reaching forward to your face to remove a stray hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, and his touch is warm on your face. It’s then you realise how physically close San is to you—you smell his cologne and it leaves your mind blank for a spilt second. He’s absorbed in fixing your hair, combing the strays off your face, the sound of his quiet breathing the only thing you hear. You look away, wondering if your heartbeat is loud enough for him to hear, and you hope it isn’t. San gives you a soft smile when his eyes finally meet yours.

He pulls back, preparing to take his camera for the next shot, but his leg gets tangled in the sheets.

Everything happens in a spilt second—his knee that shifts forward at first, pressing against the sheet that has unknowingly tangled around his other leg, then San trying to get up quickly with the tangled leg, realising a little too late by the time he falls right onto the bed.

Right onto you.

He almost squishes you. Almost. But he lands above you, supported by his elbows just in time before his body is in contact with yours.

Your heart races, way too quick for you to even process what just occurred. All knew you was:

One; San is right above you,

Two; his lips are hovering over yours,

Three; you feel something pressing against your pelvis.

And San stares down at you, his heart beating in his ears. He takes in the sight of you below him—eyes looking up at him through fluttered lashes, your heat radiating against his skin, your lips slightly parted in surprise.

As well as the strain in his pants when his eyes instinctively lower to your bare chest, your nipples peeking through your shirt, and that his little problem is just resting right on you.

“I’m sorry”, San whispers, breaking the silence that had hung between the both of you. “This usually doesn’t happen…”

You crack an amused smile. “Usually?”you reiterate teasingly. A tint of red flushes San’s cheeks and his clothed erection presses harder against your bare skin, and it makes you bite your lip.

“Fuck. I mean, this never happens. It’s just.. I’ve never felt this way about my boudoir models…”, he trails off. “I think you’re fucking stunning since you entered the studio, and I think you’re even more stunning now.”

Your heart flutters at his confession and this time, you feel yourself blush. A soft laugh escapes from the male above you when he sees you avoid eye contact from the shyness. His strings of rationale—yelling at him to stay professional—is snapping. He’s not lying. He’s never felt so attracted to any of his models before, until you, and now that he has you trapped under him, he doesn’t want to lose that chance.

“Should we end the session here?” San asks, with a quick glance at your pretty red lips.

Your fingers are playing with the dangling silver chain that he wears. He lets you, waiting for your response before he catches your gaze dances back to meet his again. Your hands shift to caress San’s jaw, and he takes it as a sign to make his move. You inhale softly as you feel his lips press onto yours, and it makes your head spin with glee. He tastes so heavenly, and your legs clench at the feeling that flutters between your thighs.

San slightly presses his body weight onto you, his erection only growing harder against your thigh. But it looks like he’s taking his time.

His fingertips warm your skin, and he lets them slip up your body, until he’s at your chest, barely covered by the sheer cotton material. His thumbs grazes against your nipples, and you gasp in between open mouthed kisses. You feel him smile, and he applies pressure, and the sensation goes right to your pussy.

He pulls back, watching your lip stick smudged, and your eyes dilate. You can’t help but feel entranced by San, and now you’re wondering how his face would look like when he falls apart.

And it makes you excited.

San lulls you back from your thoughts when you feel his lips suck softly against your neck, and now your fingers are playing with his soft locks of hair.

He’s slightly embarrassed at the way he’s growing even harder when he gingerly peels the white shirt away. His hands cup your bare tits, and he lowers himself to your left tit, giving it a couple of hungry licks and sucks, leaving your back arching and your mouth agape from how ticklish his tongue feels as he flicks your nipple. He doesn’t neglect the other nipple, giving it the same attention as he relishes in the way you fall apart for him. When he has his fun of sucking and making sure your nipples swell while you moan and tug his hair, he pulls away.

He sits up, pulls his shirt over his head and you’re left drooling at how chiseled his body looks. San unbuttons his pants and yanks it off, alongside his boxers, and you watch with awe as his cock springs out—hard and heavy against his abdomen. Your panties are tugged off you in no time, and you don’t miss the way his cock twitches when his eyes land on your slick covered cunt.

“You’re gonna be the death of me”, you hear him mutter before he collides his lips against yours once more. You squeal when you feel his fingers press onto your clit, giving it small rubs, watching and soaking your reactions—your whines and whimpers. There is a dull buzz in your mind every time your bundle of nerves get stimulated, and it builds up in your tummy.

“Oh god, you’re getting even wetter”, he sighs, his fingers completely soaked.

“It feels good. So good. Keep doing that”, you whisper, your fingers pressing against his arm. Your moans only grow louder as San picks up the speed on rubbing your clit, and it’s sending you over the edge way quicker than you wanted to.

San lowers himself to your head, and his husky voice vibrates in your ears.

“That’s it, keep coming undone. Let your mind shut off. You look so fucking beautiful like that.”

“San, San, fuck. I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck-“

Your eyes roll back as your orgasm washes over you, your body tensing as pleasure becomes the only thing you know. You barely catch onto the dirty things San is telling you, but you know he’s encouraging you to cum on his fingers like a good girl.

He makes sure he has your orgasm drawn out as long as possible, your mind completely blown out at that point. San sucks off your arousal on his fingers, before giving his cock a few pumps.

“You taste like heaven, babe. I’ll get a taste of that cunt soon, but right now, I really can’t wait”, San huffs, trying to keep himself composed as he slowly fucks his hand.

“San, hurry up, please. I need you, so fucking bad”, you whine, your fingers pulling your wet folds open for him.

His breathing goes heavy at your words. “Damn, the shoot really got you heated,” San teases.

“I can’t help it if my photographer makes me wet”, you reply with a playful smile.

Something seems to snap in San when he hears that—all he’s thinking about is wanting to drive his cock so deep into you that your mind completely blanks out.

So that’s what he does.

San lines up his cock to your entrance and pushes and inch in. His eyes dart to your face, licking the bottom of his lip when he watches your face contort into pleasure. His hands stroke your thighs as he pushes in a couple more inches, soaking in your broken moans as he stretches you out. He forces himself to stay composed despite the fact that you’re squeezing him with your warm and soft walls.

He manages to bury himself right to the hilt and he gasps at how perfectly fitted his cock is in you, an uncontrollable moan escaping his lips when he feels you convulse around his cock.

“San, you’re so big. I’m so filled”, you whimper through glazed eyes, his cock completely cutting off other senses as your thighs tremble. A smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, pretty”, San tells you. Despite that, he waits for your green signal before he pulls out and drives his cock right into you.

Your mind switches off the moment his cock is fucking your pussy, because that’s all that matters. It’s so good. So fucking good.

His hands slither to your wrists, and has them pinned over your head as his cock pistons into you. You swear he’s driving you to be cock dumb by the end of this, but not like you fucking minded anyway.

“Look at you. Growing stupid over my cock already. So fucking adorable.”

You only nod in reply, biting your lip as his cock continues to render you speechless. Now San has completely flooded into the smallest crooks of your mind. San has his mind blank, his eyes darting from your fucked out expression to your bouncing tits.

Your cunt flutters once again and tears are pooling at the corner of eyes. The sounds of wet skin slapping echo around the studio.

“…wanna touch you”, you mutter. Despite the face that you loved that he was holding you down, you are feeling desperate to feel his skin as you dance on the fence of your orgasm. San releases your wrists, and he props himself better as he continues to pound into you, hitting the soft, spongy spot over and over again when he has your legs folded. When his pulls out, his cock is covered in a creamy mess. His head spins and his ego inflates at the thought him being the one who drove you to this point of mind blanking pleasure.

“No, no, I’m gonna cum again. So good. San!” His name leaving your lips as a whine. Your hands are gripping onto the loose unbuttoned sleeves of your shirt. His hands take yours and places them on his on his sides, and he groans at the way you’re clawing him.

“Shit. Fuck!” San curses when you cream on his cock even more on top of your walls hugging him tightly. You let go on his cock with a pleasured sob, legs twitching.

It’s not long before a long drawn out moan San releases as his warm cum completely floods your tight hole. He swears he wants to keep his cock tucked in your pussy because it feels that fucking good.

His face—oh, his fucking face when he orgasms. You barely recover from your second orgasm to watch San fall apart while he empties in your pussy, and it almost drives you to your third orgasm. Almost.

The both of you remain still for a moment, only breathing filling in the silence. Then, San slowly pulls out, watching the way his cum leaks out of your abused hole.

San pulls back, and he realises that he’s never seen a more beautiful sight—you, splayed out in nude, only covered by a measly white shirt that inevitably drives him crazy, with cum leaking out of your pretty hole while your body twitches against the white sheets.

He thinks that it’s a pity that his camera is out of reach, because it’s such a beautiful shot.

You glance at San with a shy smile as he hands you your panties. He hooks the your legs into the panties and pulls it up to your hips. You feel another load stain your panties while your thighs twitch.

San dresses himself quickly and extends his arm for you to take as he leads you off the bed. He knows he’s got extra work to wash the sheets but that’s the least of his worries.

What throws you off is when he pulls you into his arms and kisses your temple.

“I promise I’ve never done to any of my clients”, he reiterates.

“Unprofessional”, you tease, your hands sneaking up his shirt.

“Can’t fucking help it. I never knew fucking an Angel in my studio would be this exhilarating. It makes the thought of washing the bedsheets bearable”, he teases back, letting his fingers tangle in your hair.

Your mind goes completely blank when he tells you to wash out the loads in you, so he’ll fill you up once more when he brings you home, which earns him a slap on the chest. He gestures you to go change up, watching the way you remove your shirt to reveal your bare back, and he makes a mental note to start fucking you from behind.

And back at his place, he does. His eyes are hyper focused on the way your ass bounces on his cock. A loud slap reverberates in his room followed by a whimper.

He stills in you, spilling his load once more into your abused cunt as you cream all over him once again.

Then he has you wrapped up in his arms, peppering you with kisses as you’re teetering off your high.

“Stay over, won’t you?”, San requests, tucking a lock of hair behind your ears. You’re beginning to feel completely enamoured by the male. You nod as you melt into his arms.

San thinks it’s ridiculous how hard and fast he fell for you, but he’s confident that you’re his favourite model, ever.

[jo-com]

‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹ ➛ Shots

Oscar Piastri x Fem!reader

Summary: You guys are used to having people send out free drinks because they fancy Oscar, but when it was your turn he did not like it one bit. (Inspired by the oneshot I’ve read, I forgot who the author was sorry😭)

Genre: Fluff

Note: nothing, just look out for grammatical errors and this is not proofread

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

───── ─ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ─ ─────

The sun radiated brightly emitting a soft glow that shined over the flesh of your skin— it was creating a rather medium type of shade the longer it sets on your body.

You don’t mind it though, as long as you were relaxed and rested in the embrace of you boyfriend; everything was just okay.

You and Oscar, along with his fellow drivers decided to have a day off at the beach. It was trip that has been long overdue, due to their busy schedules the trip was postponed one to many times.

So when they had their day off, the lot of them took advantage of it and agreed to pay the beach a visit— enjoying the calming atmosphere that surrounds the beach and having to spend time with their significant others. The whole afternoon was nothing but perfect.

After playing volleyball, you guys decided to just chill near the bar lounge and gossip about anything that comes to mind.

You and Oscar sat at the middle in between Carlos and Lando. As they talk more and more, your eyes started to drift off; the sound of their voices started to mix the other background clamoring.

Your eyes were closed but was still tentative— you could still feel the brush of air that lightly ran over your skin along with Oscar’s fingers that circulates at the curve of your back.

With a low hum, you acknowledged his gesture and was pleased to let him know that you appreciate it.

As time passes by, they were all still happily chatting; laughing at each other’s joke and a bit of yelling but playful one’s of course. Everything seemed to be going so great.

Well not until one of the staffs walked towards their way, holding a tray that consists of one drink.

The whole group looked curiously as the man settled the drink in your table. The loudness of their voices suddenly died down—all eyes looking intently at the man whose just doing his job.

With the sudden quietness, curiously you fluttered your eyes open. Not being able used to the sound of silence, you propped your body up and was now leaning your whole body at Oscar’s chest.

Your eye’s widened as all attention was onto you— you felt the intense feeling of being stared at back of your head.

“Good day ma’am, that gentleman over there wanted to give you this” he spoke, his hand then went to his vest and pulled out a piece of paper.

The waiter handed you the note and left, right after you took the piece of paper.

“What does it say?” Max asked, just as curious as the others.

“I’d like to know as well” oscar spoke, his tone laced with both curiosity and jealousy.

“Well…” you trailed off and then proceeds to open the folded paper.

‘Hey hot stuff, can i have your number??’

You giggled at the childish note, making your friends cock their head to the side, anticipation rushed over them as they try to read the expression off your face.

Meanwhile Oscar was not having it, he caught a glimpse of the note and saw what was written over it. Oh he was not happy at all.

“It’s nothing, just some guy asking for my number, it’s stupid really” you spoke, brushing off the note like it was nothing, i mean it was nothing well for you it was.

For Oscar, it was like all hell broke loose, did that guy not notice Oscar or something?

All the others just laughed; you along with them. It was just a harmless attempt to get to you, it’s not that big of a deal. Oscar gets those every-time and it’s fine cause you know he wouldn’t act on it or anything.

You we’re about to reach for the drink when you felt Oscar’s hand grabbing it first. You turned to his direction and raised your brows at his action.

“Oooh someone’s jealous~” Lando teased, repeating it two more times before laughing out loud. The others heard the commotion that lando started and played along with his jokes.

Oscar rolled his eyes, completely denying his emotion. “I am not jealous, i just think it’s stupid,” he shrugged, trying to play it cool— even though you could tell his true feeling just by looking at his face.

“Yeah right” Carlos replied, earning a fit of giggle from around the group.

“You’re not actually jealous? Are you baby?” You spoke teasingly, chuckling a little at your own words.

“Like i said, i am not” he said in a monotone voice; he was acting childish it was adorable. In your eyes it was— it wasn’t in his.

You then slowly shifted your body to face his and snaked your arms that rested on his shoulder blades. “Don’t take it at heart baby, you know I won’t actually give him my number right?” You whispered, loud enough for him to only hear.

“I know…” he sighed, his arm settled in the plush of your thighs; squeezing the soft surface to find comfort.

“I just don’t like it that i was here and he still asked you, am I invisible or something?” He added. His head hung low to avoid your stare.

A soft giggle left your lips as you grazed your finger over his chin and slowly lift it up, so you could be eye to eye. “Now you know what i feel when someone does that to you, but baby rest assured that i am yours and only yours.”

Oscar slowly smiled and hugged your body close to his,”i love you” he muttered— the hug getting tighter to which you of course accepted happily.

“I love you too, my love” you smiled and pecked his lips; it was short but meaningful kiss of assurance.

The whole day then went fine, sure they were teasing him non stop but it doesn’t affect him that much like earlier because you were there to assure him every-time.

…

Creds to the real owners ideas, this is just my version of it! Hope you like it guys sorry for not posting to much I’ve been in a writers block😭😭

[vxnuslogy]

— will they, won’t they.

pairing: hoshina soshiro x gn!reader

premise: hoshina soshiro has been hopelessly in love with you for years now. and for the first time, you finally hear him say the words "i love you."

— warnings: down bad + jealous hoshina, modern setting, reader is a kyudo player.

— author's note: little miss says she's going on a break then proceeds to write about hoshina soshiro for all the dying fans (its me, i'm the dying fans.) art credits to @.BByo_chick on twitter.| ~700 words.

“how long are ya gonna keep me here?”

“no one is forcing you to.”

hoshina only clicks his tongue and stares at the dojo walls. his finger impatiently tapping at his chin as he hits crossed leg on the floors. it’s half past 5 in the afternoon now and you have no intentions of going home anytime soon.

“i’m gettin’ bored here,” he drawls, hands stretching over his head as he watches you shoot another arrow with pin-point accuracy that makes his smirk twitch uncomfortably. you’ve gotten too good at kyudo, and it shows.

“then go home,” you reply as you pull the bow back and aim for your next shot. “you don’t have to keep waiting for me to finish.”

but that was the thing: hoshina wanted to wait for you and he always will.

he wants everyone to know that you had him and he’s all you’ll ever need. there was no need for that guy who caught your fall a few days ago—not when he’s been catching you for the past 3 years. he was your guide in the train station every morning, so why do you keep trying to go to the station earlier and ask your junior for directions? hoshina soshiro was always by your side, so why couldn’t you see that?

“i’ll wait,” he murmurs into his hand, eyes looking at anything but at you. “got nothin’ to do at home anyways.”

it was a weak excuse, but it always does the trick. you always relent and let him stay but not without throwing a look over your shoulder that screams “you’re acting strange.” because he was. hoshina, against his will, feels his lips being tugged into a frown whenever you interact with anyone that isn’t him.

that sounds very bad–it is bad in a sense–but hoshina would never dream of taking away your freedom. so he just watches, painfully by the sidelines, with a scoff on his face as another student from a rival school stammers to ask for your number. it was irritating, having to watch everyone throw themselves at you when you’re clearly uninterested. 

“what the hell will happen if i’m not by yer side, captain.” hoshina jests as you pack up your stuff and lock the dojo.

“is this about earlier?” you ask with an amused lilt to your voice. “when the new student asked for my number?”

hoshina hated how you always aimed for the heart.

“i have no idea what yer talkin’ about,” he weakly tries to change the topic. hoshina racks his brain to think of something—anything—to help change the conversation, but his mind keeps circling back to you. how you almost looked serious when some guy–who was leagues below you by the way–had the gall to ask you out for a date.

“never took you for the jealous type.” you tease.

“it’s because ‘m not.” he said through gritted teeth, hands balling into small fists against his school bag. “‘m lookin’ out for ya, alright? that guy was a creep. i’m keepin’ yer ass safe from weirdos.”

you looked unconvinced but didn’t comment on his unusual aggressiveness. hoshina let out a frustrated sigh, a hand coming to ruffle your hair and pull just a tiny bit closer that would make everyone question your relationship. this was driving him crazy but he couldn’t do anything about it.

“‘m not jealous. get that over yer pretty little head.”

and until you both got on the train and went your separate ways to go home, hoshina soshiro never once let your hand drop to your side. he kept you impossibly close to his side and whispered sweet good lucks into your ear. body so comfortably lax in your presence he was slouching on the train seat so he could bury his nose in your hair. 

hoshina soshiro was so unfathomably in love with you. 

how could he not love you when you use your own heartbeat to calm his erratic one during every competition? when every hug has his mind spinning with gold and you. every victory is dedicated to your name, and no trophy or medal could ever compare to the feeling of running into your arms and drowning in your praise.

“i love you.” he mutters as you sleep peacefully on his shoulder on your way home. how many years has he been saying it before he lost count? it’s truly just a matter of when you’ll wake up and finally realize it yourself.

he feels the blood rush to his brain as he throws himself on his bed, unable to wipe the image of you smiling as if you had heard him.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Bro... how would Stanley/Stanford deal with their s/o (y/n) having a stalker? (As someone who has been a victim of stalking, it's terrifying)

They are afraid to go outside to do things such as check the mail, gets harassed online through text/emails, and overall just terrified 24/7, constantly paranoid with the fear of the worst happening to them if they let their guard down :(

Stan will wholeheartedly stay with you, just so he could use Ford’s crossbow because how dare some creepy fuck make you feel unsafe inside and outside the house.

He’ll fist fight them if he must, also he’ll use this as an excuse to teach you kickboxing.

If he ever find out where this stalker lives, best believe that he’ll make sure they’ll be the one scared to come out of their one house by sending letters depicting threats of what he’d do should they step a toe out of their own home, and it’s in excruciating detail.

However if the stalker try to send the letter into the police, the police can’t seem to trace who sent the letter…Stan is too good at what he does it’s almost terrifying but it works out for you as the stalker is scared as shit that someone will set throw a Molotov cocktail at them while getting the mail…or depants them when they least expect it.

‘Don’t you think this is a bit much?’ You asked.

‘Where they’re threatening my baby? Never, I could’ve done way worse for you.’ Stan said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, keeping you close to his side as you both snuggled up together while watching television, feeling the safest you ever been in a long while.

Stan then proceeds to run the bastard over in his car ❤️

Ford will probably have some sort of surveillance cameras set up that he would check now and then for any and all abnormal activity regarding your stalker.

He doesn’t take this kindly as Bill had a tendency to watch him closely, so much so to the point that every time he was out in the woods he felts as though he was being watched, surveyed and observed like he was nothing sort of a experiment.

Gives you his crossbow to shot the bastard between the eyes because the was legal right? Well it is in certain dimensions and he’ll be damned if he didn’t give you something to protect yourself with if something bad were to happen.

He doesn’t trust the police, he thinks their incompetent and can’t do their jobs for shit. So he’ll take justice into his own hands by digging up as much dirt as he could on the person by enlisting some help from his most trusted friends.

But most importantly Ford makes sure you’re okay, makes you reassured and doesn’t make you feel shit for feeling like you were being watched, stalked and harassed online by someone who doesn’t know their boundaries. He’s still recovering rom his own experience with a psychopath (bill), and will make sure that you learn to heal and move on together by being a constant and reassuring presence within your life. A positive force that kept you safe and made sure you were okay at the beginning and end of every day.

He wants you to live your life freely, not scared of the outside.

If he sees that your being harassed online, Ford will make sure that the stalkers details are leaked to the public by whatever means necessary along with the creepy tendencies they have been known for but punished far too lightly for by the system that protects these creeps.

(Ford may sick the gnomes on the twat, claiming he had found them the perfect gnome royalty for them and see how they like it.)

[cheriladycl01]

I payed my dues - Oscar Piastri x FemNorrisDriver! Reader

Plot: Y/N Norris and her thoughts on Hungary and Monza 2024.

A/N: This is fiction and I don’t want to see any genuine hate towards Oscar or Lando in my comments. I just could see a Lando sister getting really protective and this idea stemmed from my ‘My love is mine all mine’ fic …

As Lando’s little sister, you’d come into the sport two years after him. Rookie Season with McLaren in replacement of Carlos Sainz.

You basically just road your brothers bumper unless you’d out qualified him by a long shot. But you were very obviously second driver, and you were okay with that. You were an incredible driver, already rivalling your brother. However, you wanted a chance for race wins and so when Christian Horner came to you about taking over Sergio Perez, you knew you needed to take it seriously.

And you knew being in a top team would pave the way for you too go into a top team as a top driver.

You and Max stormed though the 2023 season having an incredible stint of race wins between you and for the first time since being in Formula One you had ended the season above your brother in the standings and you now had 5 race wins under your belt that you didn’t have in McLaren.

2024 and the season was starting off strong for you and Max. You and Max were behind each other in the standing and got a very high way up. You were incredibly consistent not falling out of the top 5 for any race. Even when Max had a DNF for cooling issues you still made podium.

Miami was a special moment. It was a McLaren-RedBull Sandwich on the podium. You were so incredibly happy for your brother and his first career win. He’d worked so hard with McLaren thus far and he was the most loyal person you knew for sticking by their side.

But Hungary … you all could tell there was something different with the McLaren since Miami. Lando was on pole yet Oscar got around him into turn 1 and after some dramatic undercutting for the pit stop. Oscar took his first race win.

There was redemption in Zandvoort … but then Monza. Lando was on pole. Oscar was in P2. And you were in P3.

Strategy was for you to put pressure on Oscar who they thought was going to defend for Lando so that he could keep P1.

However … team orders didn’t seem to be a thing.

“And Norris makes it out of turn 1 still in first place. Y/N putting pressure on Oscar Piastri as we go into turn 2. Oscar no longer defending for Lando Norris and omg, through goes Y/N Norris into P1” the commentators say.

At the end of Monza you ended in P1, Charles Leclerc P2 and Oscar P3. Your brother out of the points but having set the fastest lap.

After watching the footage of Oscar baiting Lando and not defending him from you like a good teammate would you were beyond fucked off. It was the riskiest overtake of the month and shouldn’t have been done especially between teammates as both Oscar and a Lando could have ended out.

“So Y/N incredible race from you how are you feeling?” An interviewer for sky sports asks you and you nod.

“Yeah, really hot in the car today. Happy that I could gain places and win, and yeah I think McLaren will learn something’s after today” you say shortly not wanting your PR team to hate you for shitting on anyone.

“And what’s that? What do you think they’ll learn?” He asks cocking his head to the side.

“I dunno man, but having driven for McLaren as second driver behind my own brother for 2 seasons even when I was the quicker driver or I had the fresher tires I was still asked to defend Lando in the position he was in rather than overtake and that’s why we had such great results. Then you manipulate your diver into giving back position saying he’ll need the support in the future and proceed not to give them that support? Lando is so close to overtaking me and Max and you’d think McLaren would start to prioritise a driver … the one who is closest? No? Because I also helped Charles through today which has pushed McLaren as a constructors back even further. So McLaren really need to look at what they want to do going forward… they say my doesn’t have a championship mentality … no McLaren racing don’t have a championship mentality” you say your frown getting angrier as you continue speaking.

“And do you think RedBull have what it takes to secure the championship?” He asks and you nod.

“We already have” you say confidently.

“Some … harsh words from Red Bull driver Y/N Y/L/N there” the interviewer says just as your PR manager starts to pull you away.

“Your a menace you know that right?” She sighs as she drags you away.

“Yeah I know …” you sigh.

“Ooo what the hell was that about?” Oscar rushes coming up to you.

“What was what?” You laugh, looking over him up and down at his race suit that was loosely hanging around his hips. You had just made a comment that wasn’t wrong, and it was your opinion, one that you were entitled too.

“You’re shit talking me on interviews just because your pissy McLaren never saw your potential and that we now have the better car” Oscar says crossing his arms making you burst out laughing.

“So my freedom of speech is just gone now? I can’t make comments but you can question Stroll driving like he’s in go-karts still? Fucking grow up Oscar and then maybe just maybe you’ll be half the driver you pretend to be” you tell him, a stern look on your face.

“That’s not exactly fair, did you see the way he was driving?” He asks with an incredulous look on his face.

“Rich coming from you mate, did you see the way YOU were driving. Look I used to have a lot of respect for you, especially last year with how helpful you were … but I don’t know what’s gotten into you this year” you say, a little softer than the rest of the conversation had gone, wondering what had happened to the boy you once had a crush on.

“Your just sour that were quickly catching up top you, just like Ferrari and Mercedes are and that you aren’t as good as your brother” he says t matching your softer tone.

“I payed my dues at McLaren Oscar and that’s how I’ve ended up where I am now. It’s your turn to take the backseat once in a while and respect your teammate whose been grafting his arse of and dedicating his life to the team” you frown, once again angry that he isn’t seeing sense with you.

“I’m not a secondary driver like you Norris…” he seethes.

“Hey hey hey what’s going on here” is heard from behind Oscar as your brother and two McLaren staff come running up next to him. He stops next to Oscar looking between the pair of you, both having furrowed brows.

“Maybe tell your teammate to start acting like one if you want both championships yeah?” You frown before taking your leave and walking into the Red Bull hospitality immediately flopping down in a booth next to Max.

“I didn’t know you felt that way about Oscar…” Max sighs softly.

“Yeah well neither did I until today…”

Instagram Story Caption:

Can’t say the same for everybody!

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst t @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[slytherheign]

A WALK TO REMEMBER | tasm!peter parker

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x reader

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

SUMMARY: you take one last walk with the love of your life.

WARNINGS: illness (unspecified), HEAVY angst, insecurities, death. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by the movie/novel with the same title, but only slightly. THIS IS A GENDER NEUTRAL FIC BTW, but if you see something that pertains to specific gender then pls reach out so i can change it. also, i’ve planned another part for this focusing on their first walk but it’s still not finished. though when that part comes out, you can either read it as a one-shot or a prequel for this. EDIT: the prequel is out! READ HERE. again, i apologize for the lack of uploads, i just got busy with university and life in general. thank you for understanding and enjoy reading! you might want to get tissues before you proceed.

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE FOR ALL THINGS AWTR (reviews, commentary, etc. about this fic).

The scent of the hospital permeated the room, mingling with the soft whirring of medical pieces of equipment. You were lying on your hospital bed, your frail form engulfed by the sterile white sheets. Your family surrounded you, their faces etched with worry and exhaustion.

The doctor entered the room, his expression grave. You watched him closely, a flicker of hope dancing within your eyes. Perhaps there was still a chance, a new treatment or some kind of breakthrough medication.

But as the doctor spoke, his words fell like heavy stones, shattering your fragile heart and optimism. "I'm sorry," he began, his voice laced with regret. "But it seems the treatments have stopped working."

Your heart sank like an anchor in your chest. You felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving you gasping for breath. Your family's hushed whispers filled the silence, their words a blur as tears clouded your vision. "I-I don't understand," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. "What does that mean?"

Your mother's trembling hand reached out to grasp yours, her eyes brimming with tears. "It means we have to consider other options, sweetheart," she said, her voice breaking with emotion.

But you knew what those "other options" meant. It meant more pain, more uncertainty, and the terrifying prospect of saying goodbye. You turned away, burying your face in your pillow as a sob wracked your body.

The doctor spoke with your family and discussed the other options. You listened to his words, but they felt distant, as if they were coming from the end of a long tunnel. You knew what he was saying, and you could grasp the gravity of his words, but you couldn't bring yourself to fully process them.

“What do we think?” he asked, looking at your faces for an answer. 

If you were being honest, a part of you didn’t want to try anymore. You didn’t want any more pain. You were already tired—exhausted, even.

But then you remembered him.

You remembered Peter.

And you remembered how you promised him that you would do everything to survive. You promised that you would keep trying until all was well. 

After a moment of unnerving silence, you spoke. “I think we should do it,” you breathed out, looking up at your parents and your doctor. “The other options… let’s do it,” you smiled weakly.

So, that was what you did. You kept trying.

Peter lightly traced the lines on your hand as you waited for your order. Every now and then, he would look up and gaze at you lovingly. You couldn’t help but chuckle. “What are you doing?” you said, smiling.

“Admiring you,” he smiled, intertwining his hand with yours atop the table.

The smile left your face almost instantly. “Even when there’s nothing left to admire?” you stated sadly.

He immediately frowned at that. “What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying…”

“Y/N…”

“Peter, I’m not the same as I was. I don’t look like what I used to when you fell in love with me.”

“Stop.”

“No, Peter. I’m pale as snow. I look so sick, I’ve lost my hair. This—” you pointed at your head. “This is just a wig. My real hair is gone—the hair that I know you loved playing with and twirling the ends with your finger. I’ve lost a lot of weight—I don’t have the chubby cheeks you loved to pinch anymore. I-I’m so w-weak,” you sniffed. “Look at me, Pete—I can’t even stand on my own feet anymore. I have to be in a wheelchair.”

A tear fell on Peter’s cheek but he quickly wiped it when he noticed the waiter approaching. You immediately turned your face at the window, pretending to look at the parking lot on the other side so the poor waiter wouldn’t notice the emotional distress you were in.

Peter smiled at the waiter. “On second thought, can we take these out?” he gestured to the food. The waiter smiled in return before picking up your table number and taking the food back to pack it up for the two of you. Peter sadly looked at you as you continued to stare at the window. He heard you sniffing and he cursed himself for not knowing the right words to say at the moment. God, if he only knew how to take this pain away from you, he would do it right this instant.

He thanked the waiter, grabbing the paper bag with one hand and placing his other on your cheek to turn your face to him. He wiped the tears with his thumb before moving his hand to clasp yours. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“To your favorite place.”  

He sat on the bench beside your wheelchair before opening the takeout bag and handing your food to you. The two of you ate in peace while admiring the sight of the beach in front of you, the cool breeze that swept off the ocean instantly finding its way to your bodies.

You remembered this beach. It was where Peter asked you to be his, and it was where you answered him “yes”. You remembered how it was snowing then, and how both of you thought it was weird, but beautiful nonetheless.

Moments after you finished eating and Peter threw the trash in a garbage can that was nearby, he cleaned his hands with an alcohol spray. He then went back to you, knelt down, and held your hand with both of his. “I have an idea.”

“A good one or a bad one?”

“A good one. A very good one.”

There was a glint of excitement in his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh lightly at him.

“Well then, count me in,” you smiled.

He smirked before standing up and starting to carry you bridal style. 

“Peter—Pete! What are you doing?!”

“Just trust me, okay?”

You looked at him, searching his eye for some kind of clue to what he was planning on doing. Unfortunately, you couldn’t find a clue or anything. “Okay,” you forfeited.

He noticed the slight pout you made and he rolled his eyes jokingly. “You really know how to get me, huh?” he chuckled. “Fine, I’ll tell you what we’re doing,” he said, starting to move his feet towards the beach. “You and I, my love, are going for a walk.”

Peter carried you as he gently walked along the sandy shore, his footsteps leaving imprints that would soon be washed away by the tide. You stared up at him, memorizing his features just like you did every time you would look at him. His hair moved smoothly with the flow of the breeze, his mouth looking perfect as he talked about something you weren’t really paying attention to because you were busy paying attention to his face. And then you wondered how a man as beautiful as him loved you. You smiled, thinking you must’ve done something really good in your life for you to have him.

Seagulls soared overhead, their cries blending with the gentle rustle of the palm trees lining the beach. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air, a poignant backdrop to the bittersweet moment you were having.

Right. This was a bittersweet moment. There was something you haven’t told him yet.

“Pete, can we sit for a moment?” he frowned but did what you asked for nonetheless. He set you down gently on the sand, sitting beside you right after. 

You sat in companionable silence, the only sounds you were focusing on now were the sounds of Peter’s breathing and your heart’s beating. With each beat, you drew closer to the inevitable. You needed to tell him what he deserved to know.

“Pete—”

“Y/N—”

You laughed. “Okay, you go first,” you told him.

He smiled. “You were wrong,” he stated after a moment. 

“I’m confused.”

“You were wrong,” he said again. “You were wrong when you said that there is nothing left to admire about you. You were wrong because there is always something to admire about you. When I look at you, I question myself if you’re even real, because surely a person as perfect as you could not exist. The way you smile at the smallest compliments, the way you tilt your head back when you laugh at something, the way your brows knit together when you’re confused, the way your tongue sticks out sometimes when you’re concentrating—everything about you, big and small, I admire them. And I love them.”

“Surely, there are some imperfections in me,” you said.

“Yes, of course, we all have them. But those imperfections are what makes you perfect.”

“But I don’t look the same as I was before—”

“And I don’t care. Y/N, you are perfect in my eyes. Listen to me, I love you. I don’t care if you lost all your hair, or if you lose your teeth, or if you lose everything you have—I don’t care what else you lose as long as I don’t lose you.”

Oh.

As long as he didn’t lose me.

Your heart should’ve leaped with joy when you heard those words. But instead, it shattered like a plate of glass getting thrown into a wall. You hated this feeling. And you hated the feeling you would soon make Peter feel.

“Peter…” you called his name. “Pete—I love you,” you sniffed. “I love you,” you repeated. “You know that, right?”

“Of course,” he nodded, a tear escaping his eyes.

“And because I love you so much… I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“They didn’t work,” you cried.

“What didn’t work? I don’t understand.”

“When my treatments stopped working, my family and I decided to try the other options. Those other options,” your voice broke. “Those options didn’t work either, Peter…”

“W-What does that mean?”

“That means that I’m dying, Peter. And there’s nothing left to stop it.”

“No.”

You held both of his hands when you noticed them shaking.

“It’s inevitable,” you explained, looking at his hands instead of focusing on his face. You couldn’t look at him while he was crying. You couldn't do it. Your heart wouldn’t be able to bear it.

“No no no no no.”

“I love you, Peter.” 

“Y-you can’t—no. Maybe there’s still a chanc—”

You shook your head, lips trembling as you kissed his hands. “I love you.”

“What about our dreams, the future we would have? The family we would make? Y/N…”

“Peter, it’s getting cold,” you whispered. “We should go back.”

“But—please, Y/N. Y-You just can’t…”

“Peter, it’s getting really cold…”

“You can’t just leave me, I don’t think I can live without you. I already lost a lot of people—”

“I love you, Peter,” you repeated.

“I–I can’t lose you too…”

And in one frail movement, everything turned black.

As soon as you opened your eyes, the darkness from your eyelids was changed into the blinding white of the hospital room. To your left were machines that connected to your body, the only reason why you were still breathing. To your right was Peter, sound asleep on his chair while he held your hand in his.

If you were back in here, then that would mean one thing… you didn’t have much time left.

Your face was pale and the once vibrant eyes you had were now dimmed by the weight of your illness. Despite the pain that was evident in your features, there was a peacefulness in your expression. You had come to terms with your fate. 

You could feel it. Death. It wasn’t just at your doorstep, it was already beside you, just waiting for the right moment to touch you and consume you. You supposed you should be thankful, for the heavens did not take you yet.

If it would take you within this week, then so be it. But you hoped it would at least be merciful.

If it would take you today, then so be it. But you hoped it would spare you a chance for one more wish. 

One last wish.

To give you time. 

Not more time to live, but just enough.

Just enough time to say goodbye.

“Peter?” you said, squeezing his hand with all the strength you had left.

He woke up, eyes widening when he realized you were awake.

“You’re awake,” he smiled, you swore you saw his eyes tearing up at the sight of you.

Your features were drawn with pain and fatigue and your body was weakened by the relentless progression of your illness. But despite your frailty, there was a quiet strength in your eyes, a determination to make the most of the time you had left.

“I don’t think I have much time left,” you admitted.

Tears welled up in Peter's eyes as he stood up to lean in and kiss your forehead, his heart breaking at the thought of losing you. He sat back down again, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of love and sorrow. He longed to take away your pain, to make you whole again, but he knew that was beyond his power.

"I'm sorry, Peter," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I wish things could have been different."

He squeezed your hand gently, his heart breaking at the sadness in your voice. "Don't apologize" he replied, his voice filled with tenderness. "You have nothing to be sorry for. We've shared so much love and memories together. Your time may be shorter than what we’ve hoped for, but I’m very lucky and glad that you decided to spend most of it with me."

A small smile played at the corners of your lips and you moved your hand to caress his cheek. "I love you, Peter," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion.

"I love you too, Y/N," Peter replied, his voice thick with tears. "More than anything in this world."

“My parents?” you asked.

“They’re outside.”

“Can you please call them for me?”

“Of course,” he said, standing up to fetch your parents. He stayed outside the room to give you and your family some privacy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” your mother immediately ran up to you, stroking both of your cheeks gently with her hands. Your father stood behind her, you could tell by their faces that they’d been crying.

God, you hated seeing them like this.

“Mom, Dad,” you whispered.

“We’re here,” your mother responded, wiping your tears with her thumbs. “We’re right here.”

Your father reached out to hold your hand. “We’re always here.”

“I don’t know w-what to say… I can’t think of words that are nearly enough to express how grateful I am to each of you,” you stated. “Thank you for everything you have done and given me since I was a child. Thank you for reading me bedtime stories when I was little, for bringing me to school and then picking me up when it was done, for cooking my favorite meals, for hugging me when I was sad, for cleaning up my wounds whenever I injured myself while playing, for being there for me through my first period, first heartbreak—I am who I am because of you.”

You glanced at your dad only to see him crying, his grip on your hand getting tighter as if trying to see if the tighter he held you the longer you would stay with them. You never saw him cry like this before.

“We love you so much,” he whispered.

“We’re so proud of you,” your mother added.

Your father agreed, nodding. “You’re the strongest person I know. You’re even stronger than me,” he chuckled sadly.

“I love you both so much,” you cried. “I don’t want to leave, but the world has other plans for me… thank you for being the best parents I could ever ask for.”

And there it was.

You could feel death’s hand slowly reach for you. You closed your eyes, it was getting hard to breathe. 

“C-Can you please call Peter?” you breathed out.

With all your might, you opened your eyes again. Peter was now beside you, holding your right hand while both your parents held your left. You stayed like that for a moment, clinging to each other as if you could defy fate itself. But you all knew that you couldn’t.

Your breaths came shallow and labored, each one a struggle against the weight of your failing body. You closed your eyes, trying to block out the pain that pulsed through you with every heartbeat. But despite your efforts, you couldn't escape the truth that loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You could see and hear them crying, the grips they had on your hands getting tighter and tighter and tighter… afraid that if they held you loosely then you would slip away sooner.

But that wasn’t how it worked. A tight grip would not save you. There was nothing they could do to change the inevitable.

As the seconds stretched into minutes, your thoughts began to wander, drifting through memories of happier times. You thought of your childhood, filled with laughter and innocence, and of the love you had shared with your family, with your friends, and with Peter.

The memories faded as soon as they came. And then you felt death’s touch linger on your skin, its distance becoming closer to you than you could ever imagine. Like a distant echo growing louder with each passing moment, the realization dawned on you that your time was running out. You tearfully looked around the room, taking in the faces of your loved ones, each one bearing pain and sorrow.

Your strength continued to wane, your body growing weaker with each second. And as you lay there, surrounded by the ones you loved, you found a sense of peace in knowing that you weren't alone.

With a final breath, you closed your eyes. You welcomed death’s touch with a smile, surrendering to the darkness that beckoned you. And as your family and Peter wept beside you, you drifted away, hoping to have left behind a legacy of love and memories that would live on long after you were gone.

7 MONTHS LATER.

Taking a walk along the beach never felt the same anymore. 

Peter concluded that without you beside him, it wasn’t as fun as it used to be. The only fun thing for him, he guessed, was the fact that with each step he walked along the sandy shore, the memories with you played in his head and he would smile as he recounted them. Sometimes, he could even feel your presence somehow.

He ditched his shoes and played with the sand with his feet. It only took him a few minutes before he decided to wear his shoes again and leave the beach.

The next place he decided to visit was the cemetery. He stood across your grave, still not believing that 7 months had passed since you took your final breath. There was not a day that passed when he didn’t miss your presence or longed for your touch. He sat on the grass in front of your tombstone.

“You know…” he started speaking. “Walking along the beach used to be my favorite. After you died and I started doing it again, I wondered why I didn’t like doing it as much as I did before. But now I know why… I realized that it only became my favorite because I was doing it with you.”

He played with the grass with his hands, picking some of them as he tried to hold back his tears. “God, Y/N,  it’s been 7 months and it still hurts the same… I miss you so so much. I miss our walks, our dates—I miss everything about you,” he cried.

“I want to love walking along the beach again, but I know I only loved it in the first place because I was with you,” he continued. “To be honest, I don’t think I’ll do those walks again, at least not now… I don’t know… it’s just, without you, I can’t—”

Something just crawled and bit his hand. “Shit,” he swatted the spider, before facing your grave again.

“Anyway, I just want you to know that I will forever treasure those walks that I did with you,” he smiled weakly but genuinely, wiping his tears. “I will never forget them.” 

Especially that last one.

That last walk.

That was a walk to remember.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx @checo2011

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST: @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20 @the-quiet-observer @softiepeterpan @willowhaired @sflame15-blog @pompeygirl89 @remuslupinsdocs

[urdepressedslut]

main masterlist

♡fluff ✦angst ❀possibly triggering ☻smut ✰series ✘dark

🔥over 1k notes to be added to a taglist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | SOME CONTENT 18+

* You are responsible for your media consumption. Please do not proceed reading, if you have any kind of problem with any of the above written warnings.

One Shots

🔥 Tickle Fights ♡☻

→ Bucky discovers you’re ticklish, leading to a tickle fight which shifts into something not so innocent. (tfatws!bucky barnes)

🔥 Just Like That ☻

→ While you two were supposed to be repairing Sam’s boat, you end up giving Bucky head instead. (tfatws!bucky barnes)

🔥 Let Me Take Care of You ♡☻✦❀

→ Bucky is no virgin, but it’s been so long since someone’s touched him the way you do. He didn’t know you could make him feel so good— he’s addicted. (Beefy!Bucky Barnes)

🔥 Lovesick ♡✦❀

→ Bucky is so in love with you it hurts, and he doesn’t know if he can keep his feelings locked away from you anymore. (tfatws!bucky barnes)

🔥 I Get Scared Too ♡✦

→ You have a close call during a mission, and back at the compound Bucky seems to be distant and cold towards you. (tfatws!bucky barnes)

Feels So Right | part two ♡☻

→ You’re so sexually frustrated you end up asking your dad’s best friend for advice. He’s more than happy to help you with your little problem. (Dbf!Bucky Barnes)

Birthday Blues ♡✦❀

→ It’s your birthday, and unfortunately you seem to be going through the birthday blues. Sam and Bucky won’t let you be upset on your special day, which leads to Bucky revealing his feelings for you. (tfatws!bucky barnes)

Tears of an Angel | part two ♡✦❀

→ You’ve been trapped at HYDRA for god knows how long, until the cell next to yours gets someone new. Who is this man, and why is he comforting you? He doesn’t even know you. (The Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes x Prisoner!Reader)

🔥 Love Hurts ♡✦❀

→ You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence. (Beefy!Bucky Barnes)

The Collection ♡✦

→ Bucky arrives home and panics when he notices you calling for him from your room, but upon entering— he realizes what you have been getting yourself into. (tfatws!Bucky Barnes)

Tragedy ♡✦❀

→ A new shapeshifter recruit has a hard time adjusting to the team, she feels out of place. Bucky knows what it's like to be the outsider and fight to have control, so he comforts her. (Platonic!Avengers!Bucky Barnes)

Off Day ♡✦❀

→ Bucky helps comfort you after you’ve had a bad day. (tfatws!bucky barnes)

Void ♡✦❀

→ Working as a nurse at HYDRA, you find yourself intervening when you catch Alexander Pierce striking The Asset. You don’t even know this man, but you can’t just stand and watch him be beat down. (The Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes x Hydra!Reader)

You Could Never Hurt Me ♡✦❀

→ Bucky realizes what he’s done to you after an episode, and starts to doubt if he deserves to be with you. (cw!bucky barnes)

I Wanna Be Yours ♡✦❀

→ You were childhood friends with Steve and Bucky. You had always had a small crush on Bucky. But now as you’re older, you realize that harboring a crush on Bucky is hard. Especially watching him flirt with girls that aren’t you. (40's!bucky barnes)

More Than Friends ♡✦

→ You are eager to help Bucky prepare for a date, but he would rather stay home with you. (tfatws!bucky barnes)

Protect Me ♡✦❀

→ With Zemo hanging around, you begin to feel very protective over Bucky. (tfatws!bucky barnes)

Out of My Control ♡✦❀

→ You awake in the middle of the night discovering that your water broke, you realize you’re having a baby— the only issue is that it’s several months early. Your hospital room gets tense as you and Bucky come to terms with the big changes. (Mob!bucky barnes)

Cuddles ♡✦

→ Bucky comforts you when you have bad period cramps. (tfatws!bucky barnes)

Beauty and the Bucky ♡✦❀ (Beauty and the Beast!Au)

→ In search of your missing Father, you discover a castle far into the untouched forest. After knocking and no answer, you find the doors unlocked and venture inside. But beware— it might not be your Father you find inside. (Beast!bucky barnes x beauty!reader)

Series

🔥 Stray (masterlist)

→ Just hours after the events in DC, you find The Winter Soldier unconscious, leaning against a gravestone in a cemetery near your home. Being sheltered you don't recognize who he is, and you care for him. (The Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes)

🔥 You're Mine, Sunshine (masterlist)

→ Bucky gets picked by a very rich and respected man to be his daughter’s personal bodyguard. The Father warns him that it won’t be an easy job, that she is a brat and difficult to deal with. But what happens when Bucky meets you and you’re the complete opposite? (Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader)

All I Know (masterlist)

→ Takes place right after the end of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Bucky hides out in Bucharest. Without being controlled by HYDRA, he starts to receive flickers of memories. Who is this girl he keeps remembering? (cw!Bucky Barnes x OC!Fem!Reader)

The Girl and Her Golden Boys (masterlist)

→ A story of your life with your two best friends. Life was never simple for the three of you, and you didn’t care where you’d end up as long as it was together. How long can you all stay together until life will force you all apart? Will the strength of your bond be enough? (40's!Bucky Barnes/40's!Steve Rogers)

Love Me to Death (masterlist)

→ The avengers compound receives a new recruit. She’s a siren who can make anyone fall deathly in love with her with one word. Bucky immediately takes interest in her as he discovers she’s mute, for good reason of course. (Avengers!Bucky Barnes)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blind Offer 7

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that’s too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Lloyd Hansen, and August Walker

Note: Welcome back yall

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

Steve lets out a long breath and shuts the book. He lays it on the bath desk and nods. You stay where you, mashing your palms together by the door, longing to run away.  

“Take this away,” he demands curtly without looking at you. 

“Yes, sir,” you trip forward and clack your heels on the tile before you can steady yourself. 

You remove the empty glass, streaked with moisture, and put it on the counter. Then you lift the lap desk, balancing the book atop it, and rest it further back on the marble. The water shifts noisily behind you and reluctantly, you face him again. 

“I prefer the sage and peppermint soap,” he says as he leans back against the side of the tub, his head tilted back with a sigh, “ugh, long day...” 

You let his words hang. Is he mocking you? Yes. This is all at your expense. 

You near the tub again and look at the bath shelf. There’s several bottles that weren’t there before. You bend to reach over him as he waits expectantly. You take the black silicon body scrubber along with the sage soap and stand straight. You squeeze out a dollop onto the soft bristles and dare to look down on Steve. 

Oh. You try not to see, only try to do what he wants. You set the soap aside and dip the scrubber into the water then lather. You grip the edge of the tub as you lean over him. Your hand shakes as you reach to touch his broad chest. The tension eases as you drag across his firm muscle. 

He’s watching you. You feel his gaze and are caught glancing up by his crystal blue eyes. You blanch and he smirks. 

“When you use that toy, do you think of me?” He growls. 

You flinch but don’t recoil. You look down as you focus on washing his chest and shoulders. You swallow and bite down on your humiliation.  

“Honey, I know you’re not blind. Neither am I. You’re a gorgeous girl and well, look at me...” he purrs and brings his hand above the surface to tickle your other hand. “You wanna play with that toy tonight? Want someone to play with?” 

You quiver and dip your hand in the water again. He snickers and sits up, bracing the sides of the tub, and stands. The water slakes off of his thick form. 

“Why am I asking?” He faces you, “you’ll do whatever I want, honey.” He stands before you staunchly, “continue.” 

You continue to wash him. You push the suds down his stomach and he sucks it in as his muscles contract. You gets his sides then his back as he turns. The lower you get, the less diligent you are.  

When he faces you again, he catches your hand, and you let out a squeak. He’s hard. He slips the scrubber from your hand and replaces it with a cloth. He closes your grasp around his rigid length. 

“Gotta get it all,” he purrs. 

You tremble and he pumps your hand once, up, then down. 

“Be thorough, honey.” 

You stare at the lines of his torso, just above your hand. You move mechanically, stroking him firmly, gripping tighter just to keep from disassembling. He chuffs and shakes, grunting through his nose as he latches onto your chest. 

“Little more,” he grits between his teeth. 

You close your eyes and keep the motion. This is disgusting. He’s disgusting. And you have no choice. As he squeezes your tit, kneading it, you can only think of that woman in her smeared make up. Is she still around or are you merely a replacement? 

“Ah, god,” he spasms and warmth spurts up your forearm and down the washcloth’s edge. You open your eyes with immediate regret. His cum strings in glistening ribbons, the smell cutting through the scent of sage. “Mmm,” he fondles you a little more before he pulls away, “bad girls make messes, good girls clean them up.” 

You open your hand and let go of him. Before you can use it to wipe clean your arm, he snatches it. He holds it above you, dripping onto the tile in front of you. 

“No,” he sneers “not like that.” 

You frown in confusion. 

“Clean it up,” he repeats with punctuation and taps your mouth with his thick finger. 

His meaning sinks into your stomach and churns. You shudder and lift your arm. Your lip curls as you bring it up and poke out your tongue. The taste nearly makes your wretch. Your body racks as you make yourself lick up his cup. 

He hums as he watches you, “such a good girl, keeping me clean.” 

Your eyes sting with tears as your stomach and chest contract. You’re repulsed by yourself as much as him. How fucking weak are you just going along with it. What else can you do? The flashes of the woman’s pretty face streaked with tears and fear keep you from letting out the surge of self-hatred and rage. 

“Yes, sir,” you whisper. 

“Finish.” He demands. 

You swallow down the order and the taste of him. Humiliation roils around you, adding to the heat fed into the air by the bath water. He takes the washcloth and tosses it, returning the scrubber to your hand. You continue on the task, pretending as if you were merely washing a counter or a tabletop. 

When at last he’s content, he lowers himself back into the water. You cling to the scrubbie, unsure. He growls. You go rigid. 

“Hair.” 

The order is clear. You put the soap back on the shelf, trading it for shampoo in a similar scent. You use the small plastic jug to wet his hair, using your hand to block the pour from his face. You lather, scrubbing his scalp, the act made awkward as your thoughts race. You’ve never had to wash another person’s hair.  

His groans taint the innocent deed as he leans his head back. You try not to show your uncertainty. Your bottom continues to pulse each time you think of resisting. You can even recall exactly how the table felt against you with each heartless strike. 

You rinse out the soap, dragging your fingers through his hair, pouring until the water is clear and free of bubbles. You set the thing back as you found them and Steve stretches his neck with a choked grunt. He Pushes himself to his feet again, careless of the water that drips onto the floor. 

He steps over the edge and you back up. You search and grab the towel. The little things are your last attempt at appeasing him. You might just make it through the night. Does it matter? What about tomorrow? 

You dry him off as he drips onto the bath mat and around it. He lets you, bending for you to get his hair. Even naked, his size and strength is stark against your own. You don’t miss the twitching lower down either. 

“Did you lay my pajamas out for me?” He asks. 

You cringe. Of course, you’re missing something. You let him claim the towel as he wraps it around his waist.  

“Sorry, sir, I didn’t have the chance--” 

“Go, do it,” he commands. 

“Yes, sir.” 

You are happy enough to get some space. As demeaning as his tone is, it’s better than lingering. You turn and flit off to figure out the pajamas. 

You head down the hall and slow. Steve clears his throat from behind you and you turn back to find him peeking around the door frame. 

“The main bedroom. At the end,” he instructs. 

You nod and carry on. You’d almost gone into the room you’d been occupying. You deign to call it your own room. This place is not your home. It’s a prison and you hate yourself for not realising it sooner. Every single red flag waves in your memory and makes you want to tear your own eyes out. 

You go into the larger bedroom. You flick the light on and peer around. The overhead light has a simplistic white glass shade that casts over the space brightly. There are sconces on either side of the king bed, a switch beside each for their control, and nightstands that match the sleek black bed frame. Beneath the grand bed, a plush white rug across the dark hardwood. Like the rest of the house, it’s pristine. 

There’s a large closet nearly the expanse of a whole wall and two tall dressers, one to either corner as if to bookend the door you’ve come through. Another door stands opposite the closet through which you can only see shadows and the glean of the overhead light. It must be another bathroom. 

You step further inside and stop short as movement catches your eye. You didn’t notice your reflection before, there above the headboard of the bed. Your heart drops and you look up. The bed is mirrored perfectly by the reflective panel above. You shiver and turn to the dresser. 

You put your hand around the knob and pause. You squint as you bend to read the label and notice one on every drawer; each a single letter. You notice only four variations in initials; S, B, L, and A. That’s what they must be; S is Steve. Your blood simmers to a boil. There are more of them. That man on the speaker must be one of them. 

You pull open the top drawer marked S. You pull out a pair of pajamas; plain blue cotton, a tee and matching pants. You shut the drawer with your hip and carry the armful to the bed. 

You hear him coming down the hall. You lay the pajamas on the mattress and back up. He marches through and stops at the foot of the bed. He swipes the towel from around his waist and hurls it at you. You catch it with a gasp. 

“There’s a mess in there.” 

“Yes, sir,” you force out and keep the towel in hand. 

“Towel goes in the laundry tomorrow. With my clothes. Hamper at the end of the hall.” 

You repeat your acquiescence and carry on. The heels click incessantly beneath your strained arches. You enter the bathroom and gather up his disposed clothing. You ball it all up with the towel and dump it all in the standing hamper.  

You drain the tub and wipe down the sides. You take the washcloth from the sink and add it to the laundry. You’d rather burn it. You wash your hand before you finish sopping up the little puddles of water on the tile. You hang the bathmat over the edge of the tub to dry out. You even flush the yellow piss he left in the toilet. That feels especially deliberate of him. 

You return to him, click, click, click. You stop in the doorway as he pulls back the bedcovers. He glances over and narrows his eyes. Great, what cryptic order have you missed. 

“You don’t look ready for bed.” 

“Sorry, sir--” 

“Get changed,” he interrupts you, “come back here.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Off again. You’re irked by how he orders you around. You feel like a dog. 

The room is barren of your things. It isn’t yours, that’s why. It’s made for the doll they’re trying to make you into. You go to the dresser and pull it open. It’s full of lace and silk and sheer fabrics. None of it meant for practicality. 

You pull out a jade green nightly and shake your head. You retreat to the bed and sit, clutching the silk. This isn’t right. For once in your life, you’d rather be stocking shelves amidst the greedy customers and crow-like managers. You hate this all. You hate yourself for not being strong enough to get out. 

“Never keep your man waiting,” the woman’s voice returns and makes you wince. You look around and find one of the picture frames has dissolved its usual image of a bicycle wheel and bucket. Her eyes is swollen and bruised despite her efforts to cover it with makeup, “men do not like to wait. You not only disrespect their time but them—Ah!” 

She throws her hand up to shield herself before the screen goes black. You whimper and slump your shoulders. Your lip trembles as tears threaten to spill over. You can’t do this. Eventually, you’ll slip up again. You don’t want to be like her. A hollow shell of fear and yet what else can you do? 

“Doll,” the man’s voice ripples through the air, “don’t make me repeat myself.” 

You look up at the ceiling defiantly. You scowl and the bodiless voice laughs.  

“Keep on,” he goads, “I’ll remember every single one.” 

You stand and put your chin down. His threat is clear. Tonight, it’s Steve, one night, it will be him. You strip down and as you pull the silk over your head, the man’s low timbre roll in the air. 

“Can’t wait, doll,” he taunts and the microphone clicks decisively. 

You collect the clothes and put those in the hamper as well. You come back down the hall and make certain the lights are all off. You make your death walk towards the main room and peek inside as you approach. Steve lays across the bed, his pants tented without shame. He has one light on at his side of the bed. 

“Turn that off,” he demands as you enter. 

You flick off the overhead and come forward. He lifts his head to watch you. You approach the side of the bed and he stretches his arm across to rub the space beside him. He flips back the covers and winks. 

“You look good but... green’s not my colour.” 

You furrow your brows as you warily touch the mattress, pressing one knee to the edge, “sorry, sir, should I change?” 

“No,” he rolls onto his side and grabs your arm, hauling you up impatiently, “I like the way your tits look in that.” 

You clamp your lips tight to keep form showing your repulsion. He forces you against him so you feel his need against you. He growls in his throat as his hand trails up your arm. He frames your chin and forces you to look at him. His nose brushes yours. 

“I knew you were perfect the day you signed the lease, honey,” he snarls as he rubs the tip of his nose against yours. “So sweet and soft--” 

You press your hand to his chest and whimper. The idea that he’s been planning this, that it was all manufactured, a trap, is worse than the reality itself. Was the washer made to break or was it just a perfect opportunity? 

“It’s really too bad no one’s seen you around the building in days...” he purrs, “and once you fail to turn up for work... well... they’ll replace you but who will really think to look. Another missing girl in the city. Forgotten with yesterday’s headlines.” 

“Please, stop,” you beg as you curl your fingers against the light cotton across his chest. 

“You should be thanking me, baby,” he pulls you with him as he falls onto his back, keeping you nestled in his thick arm, “a girl like you shouldn’t be stocking shelves and smiling at strange men.” He reaches with his other hand to flip off the light, “you should know your place. You need a good man, maybe more, to show you.” 

The darkness sets in with the ominous tilt of his words. There is no way out of it. And even if someone were to look for you, how could they even know you would be here? You never mentioned it to your coworkers, never thought to say anything to your mother’s sparse texts. She never answered anyhow. 

You were stupid. You trusted him. A fucking landlord. You should know better than that. 

[drunknillawafer]

right down the line: zuko x firebender!reader

You grew up close to the Royal Family due to your father's position as a General, but you ran away from home after the agni kai against your best friend. Now, you're just trying to do your part in ending the 100-year war.

hellooo so this is my first official published fic that i will keep up! hopefully you guys like it, let me know! this is set in book 1 ep 10 in the Jet episode! i do not own Avatar or these characters! okayy enjoyyy >.<

Part 2

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

All I can see for miles is shades of crimson and orange. We’re so close to home, it almost feels like I’ve returned.

I’m standing in the trees near Jet and The Duke, peering down at twenty Fire Nation soldiers and their camp, waiting for the right moment to attack. The plan was to keep an eye out and alert Jet if anything could be of use to us. I hold onto my swords in anticipation.

“We’ve been here all morning, what if we don’t get a shot?” The Duke asked.

“Relax, we will.” Jet replied in his infamous cool manner. He was so sure we would score big this time and have one of the greatest victories thus far. I didn’t see the point, it seemed like your average solider platoon. But maybe he was right. He hasn’t let me down yet.

I met Jet when I was 13 and freshly ran away from home. I had left everything that could resemble Fire Nation in my room and took only my closest valuables. With one bag over my shoulder and a week of struggling to find food, the cool leader crossed my path in a forest not too far from where we’re standing now.

“Are you lost?” Jet questioned me.

“No, I’m hungry.” It was true. I hadn’t eaten for so long because I didn’t know how to find food. My family’s position in society meant I usually had servants dressing me, brushing my hair, and finding my food for me. It’s not something that crossed my mind when I left in a rageful fury.

“What’s your name?” He replied.

“Y/N.”

“You’re a kid. Don’t you have parents to feed you?”

“Don’t you?”

And that was that. I had passed Jet’s mysterious test and he invited me into his little world of lost children who were strong, brave, and alone. I was lucky to have found them when I did.

Three years later, the same cool leader has me standing in the trees like a predator waiting to catch its prey. That’s when I hear it. The voice of a teenage boy.

I crouch down to focus on the noise and see the rustling in the bushes near the Fire Nation camp we’re getting ready to bust. A boy in blue appears, looking backwards to his friends in an annoyed tone. Just as I spot him, he spots the soldiers in black and red.

“This is it.” I tell Jet. He nods and whistles his command to the Freedom Fighters, sending us off to our mission.

I come down from the trees and land on my feet, quickly inspecting my environment. Taking out two of my swords, I spot the boy in blue preparing an attack for a Fire Nation soldier who will surely beat him. His stance is all wrong, I can’t believe he’s actually attempting this.

I use both of my swords and dig them into the ground, launching my feet forward and off the dirt floor, kicking the soldier in the abdomen and out of balance. He falls over with the wind knocked out of him.

“Hey! He was mine!” The boy in blue exasperated.

“No, he wasn’t.” I snarked at him. This is the fun part of being with the Freedom Fighters, winning.

After a few minutes, the soldiers scurry off like rats when the lights turn on. They go in every direction, disappearing into the autumn-colored forest.

“We did it!” I celebrate. For a moment, I catch my breath and put my swords back into their sheaths.

The trio of strangers gather together and start walking toward us.

“Who are you guys?” The youngest with a blue arrow on his head spoke first.

“I’m Jet, and these are my Freedom Fighters.” The leader introduces the members one by one, leaving me for last. “And this is Y/N. She’s my right-hand.” He graces.

I wave at the trio, taking them in as they process the new information they’ve just been handed. It’s a Water Tribe pair with another boy in orange. His clothes were strange, when was the last time someone wore Air Nomad clothes like his? I wondered. I had briefly seen the girl bend water, but it was impossible for the boy to be an air bender. The Fire Nation made sure of that.

“Let’s loot!” Jet interrupts my thoughts, and the rebels cheer in agreement. Looting time.

I focus on a tent to begin raiding the soldiers' bags and belongings. If we’re lucky, the group can score something to help us in our efforts—a map, a plan, a supply shipment—anything to take the empire down.

As I go through my first bag, the boy in blue enters the tent. I look up at his glare and stare him right in the eye.

He crosses his arms and gloats, “Just so you know, I could have handled that. But thanks for your help.”

“Didn’t look like that from where I was standing.” I shrugged and shifted my focus back onto the bag. I flip it upside down so the contents come spilling out.

“And where were you standing by the way? You guys came out of nowhere!” Clearly, he wasn’t going to let my swoop-in go.

“We were in the trees, been staking out all morning.” Nothing of importance in the first bag so I move onto the next one, opening the top and letting the soldier’s belongings fall on the floor for me to inspect. “Until you,” I point at his chest, “came along and made the perfect distraction. It should be me thanking you.”

A balled-up messenger hawk message comes out of the bag. I can tell from its design that it comes from the Admiral, lucky me. Ignoring the boy in front of me, I open the letter and read the writing.

The Avatar has returned. From now on, any information must be reported to Admiral Zhao. The Banished Prince is to be ignored.

The Banished Prince. My finger grazes the ink.

“One day she’s going to try and overthrow me, I swear.” Zuko confesses as he lunges forward with his sword. I dodge his attempt at an offense and strike back.

“Even if she does, you and I can take her.” I reply. My mind is focused on the sparring round, but Zuko seems to be somewhere else. He’s not taking any of my bait to back him into a corner.

“You’d help me fight?” His demeaner softens and I know this is the moment I can use to win. I use the gymnastics I was forced to learn to my advantage and gain the higher ground on a bench near the turtle duck pond. His sword falls out of his hand as I send my blade toward him, making sure to not seriously hurt him. Zuko holds his hands up in defeat. I win this round.

“Duh, it’s kind of my throne now too. I’ve grown fond of it.” I hold one hand to my heart, feigning admiration for the title.

The Prince and I grew up together. Learning fire-bending at the same academy, attending snobby important society gatherings, and now practicing sword-fighting at the Royal Palace’s turtle duck pond. We became halves of one whole. If the cosmic forces upon us gave me the mind, it gave Zuko the heart. And together, we felt complete.

“One day I’ll have to be Fire Lord.” He solemnly said.

“One day. But for now, just focus on beating me! Round 4?”

I take a deep breath in and push the memory away. Time makes it easy. The boy in blue waiting for my response to the messenger hawk letter makes it even easier.

“It’s nothing, just old information.” I crumble the paper into a ball once again and throw it with the rest of the useless items I’ve gone through so far. “Do you want to come to the hideout?” I change the subject.

“You guys have a hideout?” His eyes widen in amusement.

“Yes, but maybe I should know your name before I let you go up there.”

“It’s Sokka.” He answers. “And you?”

“Y/N.” I hold my hand out so he can shake it, and he does. When his hand touches mine, a pit forms in my gut. I got the feeling I’d be knowing him for a long time. “Well, Sokka, follow me.”

[7ndipity]

Hey :) How are you doing?:) well?:3

Did you see Jimin's New hair cut/hair color? It suits him sooooo well!🥰🥰🥰😍😍😍

I was wondering something.... In every fics, no matter who's the member (of BTS), his parents always accept the reader while she's not even an Asian woman. And it doesn't seem realistic to me.

So, how do you think would happen if the member's parents don't accept their son to date a Western woman and they ask him to leave her? If they ask him to choose between her and them? Or if they told him they would never come to his wedding because he's not with an Asian woman?

Their Parents Don’t Approve Of Non-Asian S/o

Ot7 x Reader

Warnings: angst

A/N: Hi! I did see Chim’s new hair and I’m absolutely in love! I’m so curious to see what he’s working on!

Anyway, on to the request! This is something I’ve also wondered about a little actually, but it’s such a tricky situation, and something I don't have much knowledge/experience with, so I don’t know if these are any good, but I gave it a shot.

Masterlist

Requests are open °•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin: He’s well aware of what’s considered the norm and tradition, but he never thought that his parents would take such a serious stance about it. If he loves you and is comfortable with your cultural differences, then that should be enough for them. He would do his best to try and make them see that, even if it takes a while.

Yoongi: Yoongi’s had to go against his parents several times in the past in pursuit of his career, so I don’t think he would even consider breaking up with you. He’d call their bluff and give the same ultimatum back to them; if they want to continue to have a relationship with him, then they have to accept that you are a part of his life.

Hobi: Knowing how close he is with his family, I think he would be so devastated if they didn’t approve of you. It would rattle him to the point that the two of you might sit down and have a talk about your relationship, but that leaves him all the more certain that you’re meant for each other. He would fight very hard to get them to see you for you, and not where you're from.

Namjoon: Again, he’s had to go against what his parents thought was right for him in the past to pursue his passion, so he’d be more than prepared to do so again for his S/o, but that doesn’t make him any less disappointed in the situation, he thought they were more progressive than that. There’d be several talks with them and try to get them to come around slowly.

Jimin: Like Hobi, he’s so close with his family, it would absolutely break his heart if they didn’t approve of you. It might make him question your relationship for the briefest of seconds, but he genuinely can’t imagine his life without you, so he would have a long, serious talk with his parents and try to get them to realize how your nationality doesn’t matter.

Taehyung: He would honestly be so stunned and hurt if his parents said that they thought you shouldn’t be together, especially over something like your race/nationality. He definitely wouldn’t break up with you, but he might struggle a bit on how to proceed in order to try and get them to reconsider their way of thinking on this.

Jungkook: I think he would be so angry and confused by their reasoning. I mean, he’s not exactly a traditional person (tattoos, piercings, etc), why should your ethnicity/nationality make a difference to them? He doesn’t even entertain the thought of ending things with you, going immediately to your defense and doing his best to make them reconsider.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[showstopper35]

Lost Light Crew Walks in on You Changing

warnings: slightly implied sexual references? not that much. mostly just the crew being goofy. I suppose this takes place in a human AU, or maybe the reader is human. I don’t know. Or care.

Rodimus

-He doesn’t even knock. He just barges right in, freezes, and practically screams some apology. “HOLY FRAG, I’M SO SORRY! I mean, damn, you look good, but I’M SO SORRY!!” He takes waaaaay too long to shut the door again. He then later pretends like nothing happened and flirts with you instead.

Drift

-He blinks. You blink. “Uh? Can you shut the door?” You ask. He blinks again, then you swear he whispers, “Sweet Primus” under his breath as his eyes travel up and down your body before swiftly turning out of the room. You’re all he can think about the rest of the week. Not that he would ever admit that.

Ultra Magnus

-He doesn’t even see you. He knocks. You respond that you are changing and he leaves with a quick apology. The next thing you know, a two-paged apology essay is sent to your datapad.

Ratchet

-He’s a doctor. He’s seen everything. A quick mumbled apology and he’s leaving already. Never mind the slight blush he has. What blush? Nothing happened. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Cyclonus

-The second he enters he’s already walking backwards out. He doesn’t even apologize, he just makes painfully long eye contact with you. “Oh.” he says before slipping away. He then proceeds to avoid you for three weeks.

Tailgate

-“OH MY PRIMUS I’M SO SORRY HOLY SCRAP PLEASE DON’T KILL MEEEE!” There are tears. Lots of tears. And tripping and more apologies as he tries to close the door. He slams his own digits in the door. “OW! AUGH I’M STILL SO SORRY!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FORGIVE ME!” Cyclonus has to console him for hours.

Whirl

-“Are you sure you don’t want to help me steal Magnus’ door?” He barges in without so much as a pause, despite your exposed state. “No! Whirl! Get out!!” He does leave, but not before adding a few choice comments about your cowardice surrounding acts of vandalism. “Fine, I’ll make Skids help me. Also, you look pretty sexy. Not that I’d ever compliment you. I just meant like, objectively.” It’s possibly the kindest thing he’s ever said to you.

Brainstorm

-There’s a lot of stammering, and mumbled swearing. You’re sure he’s blushing and sweating like crazy. He steps backwards, covering his face with his briefcase. “Sorry. I mean of course I’m lucky to have seen you…like that, at least it wasn’t Perceptor who walked in…I’M GONNA GET BACK TO MY LAB NOW!”

Perceptor

-You might not even notice that he reacted at all. A flick of his eyes over your body. A slight stutter. He remains in the room, calmly talking to you, but you notice he’s more fidgety than usual. You smile at him when he leaves, and you swear you hear him release a sigh as the door closes.

Rewind

-Immediately shuts off his camera—and he never does that. He almost runs to you to hold your hand and apologize, but then he realizes that would just make it more awkward. Instead he covers his face and walks backwards out of the room, leaving you to shut the door yourself as his panicked little chattering fills the hallway.

Chromedome

-“Oh. Sorry.” He instantly covers his optics and starts to leave, before turning back around, still covering his face. “Do you want me to erase this memory? For both of us?”

“Uh…” you heasitate.

“I mean…it was a nice view.” He all but whispers, making you laugh. “You don’t have to erase it then, Domey.”

Skids

-Of course he doesn’t cover his eyes. He leaves, of course, but not before making a low, appreciative whistle. He makes a twirling motion with his hand, as if to ask you to spin so he could get the full view.

“Absolutely not. Get out, please.”

“Aw. It was worth a shot.”

Megatron

-Like Magnus, he actually knocks. When you explain that you are dressing, he just gives a swift apology and returns about ten minutes later. There is nothing awkward or undignified about the situation. I mean, did you really expect anything different from Megatron?

Nautica

-“Hey, can you-OH! SO SORRY!” She practically leaps in the air before covering her face. It then takes her six tries to shut the door properly. She doesn’t make eye contact with you for an entire month. Skids apologizes for her again later in the day. Legend has is that she blew a fuse blushing.

Rong

-Huh? When did he walk in on you changing? You don’t remember that? Well, I’m sure he would’ve apologised very politely.

Swerve

-“DAAAAAAMN, YOU LOOK GOOD!” the amount of eyebrow waggling he is doing should count as a medical condition.

“Please get out before I steal every last ounce of engex from your bar.” “Fiiiiine.” You swear he makes the 😔 face in real life.

Nightbeat

-For once in his life, he isn't running his mouth. He just stares. You swear he is committing every bare inch of your body to memory. He appeared mesmorized, as if he was finally confounded by some mystery.

"Uhm?" you squeak, and he snaps out of his trance.

"Sorry. I was just-uh, you look great. Yeah. Bye."

Getaway

-(in a perfect universe, you would shoot him upon entering because of everything he did.)

"This is one room I don't want to leave." He was leaning against the doorframe, drinking in his view of you. Despite your best efforts to quickly cover up, he still hadn't left. Or apologized for barging in. Let's just say he would be in there for a while.

First Aid

-He makes one step into the room, physically shakes his head, slams his mouth shut, and then leaves as quick as he possibly can. You want to visit him in the medbay? Nope. He's found some random patient to work on. You want to drink with him at Swerve's? Nope. He's drunk himself under the table the second you enter the room. Good luck ever getting him to look you in the eye again.

Velocity

-“Oh! Oh, wow- I mean like a good wow, but oh! I’m so sorry!!” She accidentally leaves the door open on the way out. She spends the next couple of weeks wondering if this will cause her to lose her medical license. It doesn’t.

Riptide

-It takes him maybe three whole minutes to realize that you aren’t properly dressed. Enough time that you’re pretty much already dressed by the time he finishes yapping about whatever. “Oh, wait, sorry! Should I have knocked?”

“I think it’s too late for that.”

[malarign]

midnight kiss

(celebrating new year’s eve together)

contains: bf!Sunghoon x fem!reader | genre: fluff |tw! party, alcohol consumption, making out, slightly suggestive if you squint, sunghoon is getting bold! | wc: 1,2k

reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: the corniest and cliche trope ✌️ also, i know new year’s eve was almost like 3 months but i don’t care 🤷🏻‍♀️

Arriving at one of your friend’s place you couldn’t help but think about your boyfriend. This was going to be the first time he’ll meet your friends from high school, and knowing how shy and introverted he was, especially around freshly met people you were wondering if staying at home with him wouldn’t have been a better idea. But to your surprise, he agreed on going to your friend’s almost in a heartbeat. You were glad he wanted to meet your close ones, but still, all that sudden wave of confidence somehow worried you.

You brushed off your thoughts when the front door opened widely showing your best friend and a host of today, New Year’s Eve party, Sumi.

“Y/nie! How I missed you!” she squealed pulling you into her overwhelming hug. Not letting you get a word in edgewise, she extended her hand in Sunghoon’s direction. “You must be Sunghoon, right?” she asked.

“That’s right.” He smiled and shook her hand, his usual shyness not visible, maybe not even present.

Now you only hoped the number of people in her house wouldn’t overwhelm Sunghoon. But it seemed like he will never fail to surprise you. Not even a glimpse of anxiousness or nervousness was contained in his eyes, just like they used to in previous events like that party.

After greeting everybody you knew and a few people you didn’t alongside introducing Sunghoon to your friends, both of you sat on a sofa, drinks in your hands.

“Park Sunghoon, I’m stunned,” you spoke as you looked up at him, his arm draping over yours.

“And why is that?” he asked raising his eyebrow cockily to which you faked a shocked gasp.

“Who are you and what have you done to my cute and timid boyfriend?” You couldn’t help but smile. You couldn’t lie but you liked this side of Sunghoon, but not more than his usual self.

He laughed heartily at your dramatic reaction. “He’s long gone. You’re mine now,” he announced after putting his drink on a trolley, reaching to your sides to tickle you mercilessly.

You laughed and contorted your body managing to gasp out: “Hoonie, stop, I’m gonna spill my drink!” Thankfully he stopped, thinking only about starting the war again after you finish your beverage.

Soon all the young people present at the party felt the urge to dance. Music started to get more lively and multiple loud voices started singing along to the lyrics. That’s when one of your friends pulled you off the couch to the middle of the dance floor. You quickly glanced at your boyfriend and saw him mouth simple: “Go” with a gentle smile decorating his face. You smiled at this view and went along your friend to dance.

After what seemed like hours in the crowd formed in the middle of the living room you left your friend to drink some water after knackering dancing. The view you found in the kitchen somehow warmed your heart even though the action itself was far from being endearing. What you saw was your lovely boyfriend with pretty low alcohol tolerance gulping a shot of high percentage tipple, all while locking arms with one of your male friends. He made a wry face at a taste of a drink eyes widening at another round of shots prepared by another guy. You couldn’t help but laugh. You took the small glass out of his hand before he could proceed your presence. He didn’t protest against your action so you just poured its content to bigger glass in order to make yourself another drink. He made his way to your side to wrap his hand around your waist.

“I see you’re having fun,” you said leading out of the kitchen into the almost empty hallway.

“Sorry, do you think I should stop drinking for now?” he asked worried.

“Hoonie, as long as you’re not crossing your limits, do what you want,” you said cupping his cheeks leaning to give him a kiss. It was slow, yet somehow rough, taste of your drink and vodka he just had drunk mixing on your lips. His hands steadily gripped your waist bringing you closer and closer to him. Maybe a little bit to close.

“Sunghoon,” you warned him before your actions led to something what would be hard to get out of.

“Sorry, got a little bit carried away.” He smiled sheepishly.

You lighlty smacked his arm at his words and grabbed his hands. You walked to the sofa you had sat on before drinking the last sips of soda mixed with alcohol. You pulled his left hand and looked at his wrist watch. 11:40. You could swear it felt like you greeted Sumi justa while ago, not 3 hours. But that’s not what you cared about at that moment. All you thought about was a midnight kiss with Sunghoon. In a little over a month you’ll celebrate one year anniversary, meaning you didn’t have the oppourtunity to share this specific moment with him. And even though you never were into that cheesy stuff, midnight kiss was something you wanted to do with Sunghoon.

“What are you thinking about, dear?” Sunghoon asked seeing how lost in thoughts you were.

“About a midnight kiss,” you blurted out before filtering what you wanted to say.

“What about it?” He raised his eyebrow nonchalanty, making you smile at his unaware cuteness.

“I just want it to be special,” you expressed somewhat shyly.

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll make sure it’ll be special,” he assured you, bringing you closer by your chin and smashing his lips on your. Moving ever so gently only to bite your upper lip. You felt drunk just by this short kiss, wanting more. “For the foretaste,” he said while pulling out.

“Oh, Hoonie, I’m pretty sure you can do better than that,” you teased.

He smiled, his dimple on a display. “Then I guess you’ll have to wait, princess.”

After sweet bants you decided to participate in last rounds of games your friends played teaming against your boyfriend, who showcased his elevated competetiveness. Just before the end of a game some girl screamed: “5 minutes!”. You looked at Sunghoon, and showed him your pointer finger telling him to wait. You quickly went to the toilet. That’s how determined you were. Nothing is going to ruin that kiss, especially not your peanut sized bladder.

You joined Sunghoon outside just 2 minutes before midnight. The night wasn’t as cold as you expected from the beginning of the winter. Yet you were met with your boyfriends scolding tone: “Are you crazy? Where is your jacket?” he said while pulling his blazer over your shoulders.

You didn’t answear his question, instead you looked into his deep brown eyes, which softened when he noticed how full of love and admiration your stare was. Some people aroun you started counting, midnight was closer and closer, just like Sunghoon’s face was getting closer and closer. Just when all people shouted “One!” your lips met in a intimate kiss. You tangled your fingers into his soft locks as his held you against his body. His gentle and delicate lips surrounded your upper lip, as you focused on his lower. Alcohol intoxication long gone, now only dazed with each other presence and delightful kiss. Both of you pulled away, breathless, foreheads touching.

“I wish to start every year like this.”

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

[coolmiaw]

Taking the lead

Usually, Emmerich was the one taking the initiative. Because he was the most experienced of them both and mainly because if she was now able to tell what she liked and what she didn't, she had close to no clue how to do it

She could very well push him on the bed and just do it… but come on.  It was Emmrich we were talking about. Everything about him was sophisticated even his way to build up the tension before acting on it

The man had standards

And if she were to take the lead, she wanted to live up to them.

She had rehearsed this moment a dozen times in her mind: a subtle surprise that would leave him stunned. Confident, she thought. Unflappable. She could do that.

But as she found herself straddling him, she noticed the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth. How long had he been onto her? She froze, a flush creeping up her neck.

She froze, suddenly very self-conscious and unsure how to proceed. Did she look as ridiculous as she thought she was?

"Everything all right dear?"

There wasn't the slightest trace of mockery in his eyes and the soft kindness lacing his words disarmed her. If he hadn’t reached for her chin, lifting it so she could meet his gaze, she might have broken down then and there

"Yeah," she mumbled. "Well... no... I don't know"

Timing had never been her strong suit, and of all the times to be a rambling mess, this was probably the worst.

"It is just... this isn’t quite what I was expecting", she shot back, flustered.

"And what were you expecting?"

Not a question easy to answer

"You always look like you know exactly what to do and when. I guess I just wanted to treat you the same"

"Well, I do know what I’m doing. But believe me, that wasn’t always the case. And you don’t need to do it the same way I do.” He tutted to stop her from arguing. “What you need, my dear, is to find your own rhythm, at your own pace.”

He let his hand slide along her chin until only his fingertip lingered, a featherlight touch that made her want to lean into him. “In fact,” he said, his gaze turning playful, “there’s really only one question you should be asking yourself.” He paused, savoring the curious look in her eyes, like a student eager to learn. “What is it that you most desire right now?”

[haloshornsinkstains]

Let’s Play [Chishiya x Reader]

WARNING: BIG SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 OF ALICE IN BORDERLAND. 

CW: Language, canon-typical violence, injury, death etc etc, emotional constipation, no one here is a good person

And again, massive season 2 spoilers, proceed at your own risk.

Chishiya had no need for attachments. Even before coming to the Borderland he tried to shut off those particular emotions, first to deal with the nature his job, and then as he convinced himself that he had no interest in understanding peoples hearts. But, as it happened, attachments weren't swayed by that kind of logic. First it was Kuina, soon becoming a steadfast companion despite his attempts to stay distant, then it was you. He couldn't pinpoint the moment you became a part of his life here in the borderlands, nor when you became more than just another tool to him, and it frustrated him. But still, he found himself searching for your face in the returning crowds from the latest game, and lingering in your presence.

One night, close to the final completion of the pip cards, you found him up on the roof. “Should have known you'd be up here people watching.” You laughed, settling down next to him to study the residents playing in the pool below. His only response was a disinterested hum, but he didn't tell you to leave which was as close to a welcome as you tended to get from him. “Do you think they're right?” You asked after a moment, “Do you think collecting all the cards is really the way to get back?” He considered it for a moment before shrugging. “Who knows?  It's a logical train of thought.” “You know... I'm not sure I'll be able to survive in that world, even if we do get back.” You sighed, eyes carefully trained on the figure of Kuina as she made her way through the crowd. “And why would that be?” “Surviving here... it changes you. Haven't you noticed?” You breathed out a long breath, leaning back on your elbows. “Maybe it's different for you, but I don't even bat an eye at death any more. The last game... I watched someone kill themselves in front of me, because of me, and I didn't even care. I'm not sure I remember who I used to be, I don't know if I could go back.” Chishiya sighed, sounding every bit exasperated at you. His hand shot out, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. “You're the best hearts player at the Beach. You'll adapt, no matter what.” You stared at him in shock, but Chishiya merely nodded once, returning his gaze to the people below.

The pip cards, as it turned out, weren't the end of things. Just the first stage of the games. You had been so, so wrong when you thought things couldn't get much worse than the ten of hearts, a message driven home almost immediately by the King of Spades. You watched in horror as the car holding the last of your comrades disappeared behind a blast of flame, your body barely shielded by the car you dived behind. You glanced over at Chishiya and sighed. “New day, same old shit huh?” “Seems like it. We should move.” You nodded, following him quietly between the cars and away from the devastation. Things continued like that for a while. Sometimes you would enter the face card games together, sometimes Chishiya would insist you stayed back. You didn't argue with him, and he grew to appreciate your company even more than he had before. Things seemed to be going well, until they weren't.

Two face cards left. The King of Spades and the Queen of Hearts. You'd finally found the others after what seemed like forever apart, then Niragi crashed the party. You could only watch in horror as Chishiya took the bullet meant for Usagi, feeling for the first time since the games started, hurt. You eyes narrowed, reaching for the gun at your hip to blast the former Beach resident away, when the sound of gunfire in the distance pulled you from your rage. “The King. I'll get him somewhere safe, you two run.” You snapped, practically shoving Usagi and Arisu away as you ran to Chishiya's side. “You know, you should get to shelter too.” “Shut up and let me move you. I'll be just fine.” You huffed, helping him move behind a car. “Stay alive, I'm coming back for you once we kill this bastard.” He just nodded, one hand pressed against his wound as you turned and headed for where the others had grouped.

The plan had seemed so good, everyone using their best skills seemed like a surefire way to win. Hell, even Aguni had made an appearance, bringing with him an extra ray of hope. You had been so convinced that you could do this, that you would all survive... you didn't stop to consider the Kings almost inhuman strength and durability. It was a massacre. Chishiya could only watch through the car wing mirror in horror as you were thrown backwards by the force of his gunfire, your torso splattered with red, saved only from certain death by the kid with the arrows. Great, he owed her a favour now and she wouldn't even know why. His horror only increased as you dragged yourself upright, throwing a knife towards the man. He struggled against his injuries, trying to haul himself to his feet only to collapse with a groan. He could only watch as you went down again, only this time you didn't get up, but he couldn't take his eyes off you, watching for any signs of life. As the store exploded you were sent tumbling across the ground, but it seemed to wake you. Groaning, and a little singed, you crawled the rest of the way towards the car where you'd left Chishiya, collapsing against the metal beside him as you waved Arisu and Usagi off to the final challenge. “You think they'll do it?” You asked, leaning against his shoulder. “Probably.” “Good. I want to get the fuck out of here now.”

You awoke in hospital, confused and a little frightened, a nurse looking over you. “What happened?” You croaked, wincing when the movement sent a burst of pain down your side. “You were involved in the disaster in Shibuya, your heart stopped for a while but we managed to bring you back.” The nurse smiled kindly down at you. “Is there anyone I can call for you?” You started to shake you head, only to pause and murmur the details of your closest living relative. The nurse nodded, smiling again. “I'll do that. Don't worry, you'll be on your feet again before you know it.” Several days later you were finally allowed to wander around on your own. Escaping to the garden you spotted two men playing cards at a table, making your way over you paused by them, smiling softly. “Do you mind if I join?” The dark haired man, his face still covered with bandages nodded. “Sure. You can't be worse company than this asshole.” Laughing you took a seat beside the blonde, your breath catching in your throat when he turned to look at you. He stared back, a flash of recognition in his eyes for just a second. “Um, sorry if this sounds rude, but have we met before?” The blonde shook his head. “I don't think so.” “I'd certainly remember if I'd met someone as gorgeous as you before.” The bandaged man cut in, his grin edging towards a leer. “I just feel like I know you...” you murmured, “ah, never mind, maybe we should get to know each other then?” Both men nodded, picking up their cards as you grabbed your own stack. “Let's play.”

[wannab-urs]

Appropriate Reactions

Summary: Ezra is stranded without a ship and has nothing to offer you in return for a ride off The Green... So you make a deal.

WC: 1.6k

Content/Warnings: Butt stuff :) oh and just like... warning for the way Ezra talks. Excessive use of lines from the movie.

I am excited to present the next installment of the Peg that Middle Aged Man Campaign 2023. My dear friends @atinylittlepain (who made the graphic!), @beskarandblasters, @serenaxpedro, @jksprincess10, @cutesyscreenname and I are all writing a series of pegging fics for you lovely freaks. And we all have at least one out already! We'll be posting a masterlist next week, but for now, you can find them under the tag #peg that middle aged man campaign 2023.

Thanks to @str84pedro for the edit/commentary <3

Ezra Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

The Green is a terrifying place to mine for Aurelac, being one of the rougher and less regulated prospecting destinations. As such, you don’t make a habit of talking to strangers here. Get in, get the shit, get out. That’s how you’ve always done it. 

This time is different though. This time you found a man sitting on a log, helmet-covered head pressed into his hands. You tried to retreat quietly, hoping he wouldn’t notice you. It’s never a good idea to get caught out here alone. People got desperate. 

Before you could safely make it back into the cover of the forest, the man looked up and locked eyes with you. You pulled your thrower on him, taking several steps back. The man threw his hands in the air and said, “Easy there, stranger. I do not intend to cause you any harm.” 

He spoke with an odd cadence, some fringe-planet accent coloring his dialogue. It was oddly disarming, causing you to drop your weapon a tad. 

“And why would I believe you?” 

“I happen to be without a ship and therefore have no reason to dispossess you of your trophy case,” the man shot back, hands still above his head. 

This shocked you, as being without a ship on The Green pretty much guaranteed you were not long for this world. His air filter would give out sooner or later and the dust would choke him to death. You may be tough, maybe even cold, but you’re not evil. You couldn’t leave him there. 

You holstered your thrower and took a few steps toward the man. “I can give you a lift, but I won’t do it for free. What can you offer me?” 

The man had slowly lowered his hands to gesture at himself. “Your offer is indeed generous, and I would be more than happy to sign and seal save for one glaring slip… I have naught to my name but this suit and my body.”

You considered him for a moment. It was a little hard to get a good look under the bubble of his helmet, but from what you could see, he was handsome. He had dark hair and golden skin. A mustache framed his plush lips and a scruffy beard covered his jaw. His nose was prominent and curved, which you’ve always liked on a man. Fuck it, he’s hot. “Your body will do.”

He had shrugged and stood up, striding over to shake your hand. “Name’s Ezra.” 

On the walk back to your ship, you’d introduced yourself and asked for the story of how he came to be without a ship on this gods forsaken moon. It was a sorry tale and made you more than a little wary about his motivations, but he was so damn charming you couldn’t help but trust him. 

Now, sitting in the captain’s chair of your ship and taking in the sight of Ezra out of his suit, you’re glad you decided to trust him. The man is gorgeous, sitting sprawled out against the wall. He’s all broad shoulders and thick thighs wrapped in a black and tan flight suit. His close cropped hair has a little blonde patch at the front and his eyes are a deep chocolate brown. 

“Would I be too forward in asking how you intend to proceed, little bird?” Ezra drawls. 

“Not at all. How experienced are you, exactly?” You doubt very much that he’s a blushing virgin, based on looks and age alone. 

“I myself have frequently indulged, and I have not often found regret,” he throws a wink at you, the corner of his mouth quirking into a self-satisfied smirk. He knows he’s hot, damn him. But you intend to throw him for a loop. 

“I’m not sure you’ve indulged in this particular technique… If you want a ride on my ship, you’ll have to let me take you, pretty boy,” you stare him down, smugness settling into your features as you take in his shocked expression.

 “I… um. I have not had that particular pleasure… you do not appear to have an apparatus with which to accomplish the task at hand.” He gestures at you, clearly wondering if you’re hiding a dick under your flight suit. 

“I’m full of surprises.” You stand and make your way to a small wardrobe by your bed, digging around in your stash to find what you’re looking for. You shut the door, triumphantly holding your strap out for Ezra. 

The harness is made from a similar material to your flight suit. Already slotted into the ring is a long flesh colored phallus made from a soft but firm material mined on your home planet. 

“Now this is somethin’ I have never seen… in all my time in The Green.” Ezra looks fascinated by your contraption, not a hint of nervousness in his big brown eyes. 

“So what’ll it be, Ez? Deal or no deal?”  

---

Ezra is truly beautiful. His golden skin shimmers with sweat as you pump two fingers in and out of him, lightly stroking his pretty cock. He’s laid back on your bed, thighs spread to accommodate you, a pillow under his hips to grant you easier access. “Feel good, babe?” 

“Kinda nice… tingly,” Ezra chokes out, throwing his head back onto the bed dramatically. He’s extremely vocal, talking himself through the new sensation and whimpering when you curl your fingers into the sensitive spot inside him. 

You lower your head and gently suck the tip of his cock into your mouth, skimming your lips over the smooth skin and taking in the earthy taste of his precum. Ezra whines and jerks his hips, trying to push himself deeper in your mouth, but you follow the motion. You just know his begging will be glorious and you’re determined to draw it out of him. 

You dip your tongue into his slit at the same time you add a finger inside him. Ezra’s whole body goes taut for a moment, his head snapping up off the bed, before he relaxes into your touch. “You’re so responsive, Ez. Good boy.” 

“I greatly… appreciate the compliment… little bird.” Ezra grits through his teeth. “I would also greatly…” he breaks off with a moan as you press the pads of your fingers into his prostate again. “... appreciate getting… a move on.” 

You decide you’ve teased him enough for now, sitting back on your heels and slicking up your fake cock. You grip the backs of Ezra’s thighs and push his legs toward his chest, admiring the way he’s so pliant for you. You settle the tip against his hole and push in just a bit. “Good?”

“No harm done yet,” Ezra says breathlessly. You rub your hands up and down his thighs soothingly and push in slowly. Ezra sucks in a breath and blows it out quickly a few times and you giggle at him. 

“Ezra, sweetheart, you alright?” 

He shifts his hips, seating himself fully on your toy with a slightly pained groan. “You don’t have to be so gentle with me, little bird. I will not shatter.” 

You take this as your cue to fuck him stupid. You wonder if you can render him speechless. Leaning forward slightly and readjusting your grip on his thighs, you pull out of him and thrust back in to the hilt twice. 

“Slow… slow down a beat there, little bird.” Ezra’s hands flutter over his own chest and up into his hair, like he doesn’t know where to settle them. 

You slowly circle your hips, rubbing against the spot inside him you know will get him back on board. Ezra tugs at his own hair and babbles a string of praise at the sensation. “There ya go baby. I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?”

You lean forward, planting your hands on either side of his head and slot your thighs under his. You thrust slowly in and out of him, drawing a circle with your hips each time. His body chases your movements like he doesn’t want you to pull away at all, hands sliding up around your waist and pulling you into him. 

“Fuck, little bird, you are a miracle.” He gazes up at you in awe, as if you just told him you know where the Queen’s Lair is and you’re going to take him there. His lips part and his head digs into the sheets as he arches his hips up to you. You reach between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his length and begin stroking him in time with your thrusts. 

“Are you going to come for me, pretty boy?” You whisper before sucking his earlobe into your mouth. He whimpers and arches further into your body, hips shifting to meet every thrust.

“Please! Don’t stop birdie, I’m near- nearing my rel- release.” You stifle a giggle at his phrasing and speed up your hand on his cock. You feel his body jerking beneath you and pull back to watch his face as he cums. 

His eyes are shut tight, brow pinched in the middle, and little moans and whimpers fall from his parted lips. You lean forward and suck his plush bottom lip between your teeth, grazing it lightly before kissing him fully. 

You feel the hot spurts of his cum cover your fingers as he breaks the kiss, throwing his head back and groaning deep and loud. His fingertips dig into the flesh of your back, pulling you down on top of him. 

He lays there, panting into your shoulder for a minute before he turns his head and whispers in your ear. 

“Actions like these foment the threat of appropriate reactions.”

----

[agirlwithbigdreamsforher]

Would you mind doing a one shot there Annie has a rough day like really rough 🥺 and andy does everything in his will power to make her comfortable including waking up in the middle of the night from back pain from the baby so he gives her a massage and the one thing leads to another and things get spicy 🥵 please 🥺🥹

I love this series please don’t ever stop! I’ll still support and read. Btw I’m a silent follower never really done this hope this message gets to you 👉🏼👈🏼

I can do that! I took me a while to answer cuz I had work to do.

ROUGH DAY

THE NANNY: ONE SHOT

A ROUGH DAY

Pairing: Andy Barber x Annie Johnson (OFC)

Summary: Annie is having a rough day and she take out her frustration with Andy.

Warnings: crying, cursing words, pregnancy syntoms, sex, Andy.

A/N: none.

Word count: 2109

Disclaimer: I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, used, translated nor reposted anywhere else but here on this blog. Do not steal what you didn’t work for. Minors and ageless blank blogs don’t interact with me or my works. Reblogs and likes are always welcome. Thank you for reading this work of fiction.

GIFS not mine, you can find the credits in each gif :)

                                     ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

One of the things Andy never liked about Annie, (yes, believe it or not he doesn’t like things about her), was when she shut down because something bother her. She got moody and in general just stop talking. And no matter how many times Andy has told her he was there for her, she kept doing it.

Today was one of those days. Her maternity leave began 2 weeks ago and Annie woke up only to realize her belly had grown more. She had an early doctor’s appointment, she changed, stood in front of the mirror and she looked huge; she couldn’t even see her feet.

“Good morning, honey!” Andy said cheerfully as he walked in to get changed for the day. He had just showered, so a towel was the only thing on his body. Of course he looked good, Annie could see his abs because he was not carrying a child on his belly. Annie turned to see him with hate in her eyes. “Ok, no good morning then.” He got closer willing to give her a kiss but she just dodged him. “Alright… so, you want me to come with you to your doctor’s appointment?”

“No.”

“But what if the baby show us if it a girl or a boy?”

“Argh! That’s not gonna happen! If it hasn’t happened yet, it’s not going to happen now!”

“Hey, I haven’t done anything to you, I just asked a simple question there’s no need to be so bitchy!”

“Fuck you!”

Annie left the room, went downstairs and left. Jake walked into the room carrying his lunchbox and his backpack. Andy was sitting on the bed already putting his socks on.

“Mommy leave me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take you to school.”

“She upset again?”

“It’s gonna be a long day, buddy.”

And it was. Lunch wasn’t any different. Annie didn’t cook and when Andy asked why she yelled at him and told him he had hands and he could cook himself. After that she went straight to their room and stayed there for the rest of the day.

Andy didn’t get near her until it was time for him to sleep. He walked into the room and saw his wife drifting off hugging her pregnancy pillow.

“Wanna talk?” Andy said cautiously but Annie ignored him completely and closed her eyes. “Good night.” He sighed, got himself comfortable and went to sleep.

It has been 3 hours since Andy turned off the tv and began snoring. Annie was fully awake, she was hungry and in so much pain. In fact she has been in pain from the moment she woke up. It was a small sting on her waist but now it was full pain. She turned and sat on the edge of the bed trying her best not to wake Andy up. She stood up, only to realize she couldn’t stand up straight.

“Jesus.” She put both her hands on the back of her waist and went downstairs to the kitchen to make something to eat and at least calm her hunger.

She grabbed everything to make a sandwich, sat on one of the stools and prepare her food. Once she was done she proceed to eat it. After she finished of course she got thirsty, but when she tried to reach for a glass a sharp pain hit right in her waist, sending some sort of electricity through her spine, her knees buckled and the scream that came out of her mouth was loud enough to wake up the entire neighborhood. She was in all fours on the floor when she heard the footsteps of Andy running down the stairs.

“Honey!” He rushed to the floor, “You ok?” Annie shook her head avoiding his sight, “Is it time?” She shook her head again, “Baby, talk to me.”

Annie turned to see him, cheeks covered in her tears, “My back hurts so bad.”

“Do you think you can sit on the floor?” She nodded and move to be sited against the counter. She took a deep breath and turned to see a very worried Andy. “I’ll help you get up. You think you can do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ok, I’m gonna sit behind you and help you stand.” He put himself between the counter and her. Put his arms under her armpits and made her stand.

“FUCK!” Annie yelled as she felt the pain again.

“I’m sorry.”

“It hurts real bad.”

“Where?”

“On my waist.” She lifted her top and pointed the area. “I’m too tired.”

Andy moved his hands under her very prominent belly and lifted it. Annie sighed in relief when she felt the weight being lifted off of her.

“That feels so good.”

“Yeah?” She nodded as she leaned against her husband’s chest. “Can you try to walk to the living room? I won’t let you go, I promise.”

“Yeah.” She gave two steps as Andy kept lifting her belly from behind her.

“Good, you’re doing so good, baby girl.” Annie waddled to the couch; her little penguin walk, as Andy called it, was heavier than the days before. Andy moved to be in front of her, took her hands and help her sat down on the couch. “Be right back, ok?”

Andy came back a couple of minutes later, carrying a warm towel and some baby oil. She noticed how Annie was drifting off again.

“Honey?” She opened her eyes, “How long have you not been sleeping properly?”

“A week.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Cuz you’re tired too! You still have to go to work!”

“Honey,” He sat next to her, “We are in this together, if you are not sleeping you need to tell me.” Annie didn’t say anything, “I hate when you don’t tell me what’s wrong. When did the pain start?” Andy move her shirt up and placed the warm towel on her waist. The heat began to bring comfort to her muscles.

“This morning. I thought it’ll go away. I thought it was because I slept in a wrong position, but then the doctor said it was because of the baby weight. To be honest I’m so uncomfortable lately, I want this to be over and it makes me feels like I’m a horrible woman because everyone says I should enjoy my pregnancy but I feel so fucked up!”

“Well, all of those people can go fuck themselves, ok?” Annie smiled to that, “If you are miserable, it’s fine!” Andy moved on the couch to be behind her, “Now, you think if I give you a massage the pain will go away?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Let’s figure it out,” Andy put some baby oil on the pal of his hand, “lift the back of your shirt and hold it there.” Andy’s finger began to rub gently above the towel. His long fingers went from her waist, across her spine and to her ribs.

“I’m sorry I was a bitch today to you.”

“It’s ok, you were in pain.” He removed the towel and began rubbing on the waist.

“Oh god! That feels so good!” She leaned to the front as Andy kept rubbing.

It wasn’t long before Andy fingers went under her sleeping shorts touching her butt cheeks.

“You have like a bump here.” Andy pressed one of his fingers on her left butt cheek.

“OW!”

“I think is your sciatic.” Andy rubbed harder and Annie winced, “Maybe if you take your short off I could…”

“How convenient.” Annie said and Andy laughed.

“I mean it, you want the pain go away or no?”

“Fine!” Annie stood up and pulled her shorts down, she was not wearing underwear. Andy put the towel on the couch and she sat on it. “hehe my ass is gonna be warm now.”

The massage continue for about 5 minutes and it helped a lot. She felt sore but not in pain anymore. Andy’s fingers were still rubbing softly on her back when she let herself fall against his chest, she turned to the side and smile at him.

“Thank you.” She leaned in and gave him a peck.

“You’re most welcome.” Andy kissed her back, softly at first, but then Annie put her hand on the nape of his head, mouths open and their tongues dancing. Andy’s oily fingers got under her shirt and to her breast.

“Mmmm.” Annie moaned against his lips when Andy pinched her nipples. Andy broke the kiss and move his lips to her neck.

“You need another kind of massage?” Andy asked her in a husky voice.

“Yes, please.”

“Ok, relaxed and open your legs.” Andy rested her back on his chest, bend her knees and opened her legs. Andy’s hand went south and using his middles and index finger rubbed softly her slit. “My, my, you already wet.” Andy moved his fingers up and down her slid without touching her clit. “What were you thinking while I was massaging you, naughty girl?”

“No…nothing.”

“Liar.” Andy nip her ear and his fingers rubbed her little button.

“Oh! Yes, there.” Andy moved his fingers to her entrance rubbing it as well making her whimper.

Andy couldn’t see her pussy but he could fell her.

“I bet she looks all pretty right now, wet and raw just for me.”

“Andy, please!”

“What’s wrong baby?”

“Can you put your fingers in me?”

“So polite, of course I can, but I won’t, not yet.”

“What? Why not?!”

“I wanna keep playing with her.”

“No, please, don’t tease me.”     

“No?” Andy rubbed her clit faster and then stopped. “Ok.”

“No! I was about to cum!”

“You say no teasing.”

“Andy, please!”

Andy stood up and kneel in front of the couch, dark lustful eyes staring down at her pussy.

“See, all pretty!” Andy didn’t give her a warning before he latch to her pussy like a starve man.

“FUCK!” Annie throw her head back. She could feel his lips sucking her clit and lapping at her hole. “Oh god! Yes!” He began to tongue fuck her. His warm tongue getting in and out of her wet entrance. Annie touched her boobs feeling her orgasm approached, “Yes! Just like that! Please, don’t stop!” Andy could feel her pulsing hole on his mouth. “ANDY!” her hands took a hold of his head and keept him on her pussy. A gush of liquid came out of her and directly to Andy’s face. “FFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!”

Andy’s tongue kept licking her pussy as Annie came down form her height. When he turned to see Annie his beard was drench.

“Oh my god. Andy, I’m sorry, I ‘ve never…”

“I know!” He kissed the top of her clit, “It was amazing.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah.” He stood up and throw his boxer briefs across the room. He stroke a couple of times, “you think you can do that again?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Andy climbed on the couch and help Annie to get on her side. He lifted her leg and position himself in her entrance.

“Let’s find out.” She was so wet Andy slid in easily. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

 He gave no warning and he wasn’t in the mood of been soft with her. He pounded hard into her, his balls hitting on her ass. Annie’s moaned filled the silence, “You like that?”

“YES!”

“Whose pussy is this, huh?”

“YOURS! OH GOD!

“Damn right is mine.” Andy’s hand went to her clit and as he thrusted into her and rubbed it fast, “oh I can feel you squeezing me, baby.”

“Andy!” He didn’t stop, in fact he moved faster, “Please!”

“One more, baby. I know you can. Come on!” As soon as Andy said that she came again, her pussy contracted against his dick. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” She milked her cock and he spilled his seed inside her. Andy took a deep breath and kissed the back of Annie’s head. “Do you think you can sleep now?”

But Annie didn’t answer. Andy moved to see her sleeping already, H laughed a bit but couldn’t blame her because he also felt exhausted. He stood, put his boxers back on, and took Annie in his arms to bring her back to their room.

By the time he walked into the room and placed Annie next to her pregnancy pillow the clock on his bed side table was marking 5:20 a.m.

“Maybe I should shower already.” He said softly.

“Don’t go to work.” Annie said in a sleepy voice. “Stay.”

Andy smiled, slid on his side of the bed and kissed Annie on the forehead “good night, honey.” One more kiss, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”