#I REPEAT MEN WITH BIG NOSES

[annawhims]

WHAT DOJA CAT SAYS ☝️☝️☝️

[screampied]

❛ TOO SWEET! ❜

geto, toji, gojo, nanami, choso. jjk men who can’t get enough of your sweet taste ‘& becomes needy for your touch.

total wc. 3.0k

warnings. fem!reader, aphrodisiacs, whiney men, unprotected sex, mating press, cowgirl, doggystyle, nipple play, eating out through your panties, dry humping, praise

an. request thank yew aiii, using this req as an excuse to make the jjk men whiney.

CHOSO ☆ KAMO

“baby w-wait,” he swallows, and choso’s panting heavily. heaving practically…

he just couldn’t keep his hands off you — ever since he told you in that soft, shaky red-handed voice that he ‘accidentally’ swallowed and eaten your freshly new bought sugary-coated sweets. “i feel so…” he murmurs, spinning you around before planting a kiss on your neck, then another, then another. “i need you. y-you smell sweeter than usual.”

“oh..is it that bad?” you stare up at him, a single eyebrow of yours raises, and he whimpers. you’re teasing him. the pout that curls down his lip is just adorable.

choso doesn’t give you a answer. he’s so starved of your wanted touch, all he does is drag a few inelegant awkward steps towards you, bringing you into a deep kiss.

choso cups your face with his big hands, his tongue swipes against yours and he backs you up against the glass cold refrigerator door.

he lets off a delicious moan inside your mouth and you gasp, feeling him spread your legs apart with his knee and your own whimper slips out as he’s kissing you. his body heat against yours was so warm, and every few seconds he broke away to repeat your name underneath his breath his shaky needy whispers. oh… maybe..

it really was that bad…

“are you sure?” you faltered with a shy smile, massaging the nape of your neck with your fingers. choso sat on the bed, his face remained flustered and plastered which nothing but whole heartedly lust and thirst. “this’ll help you um..stop feeling all….you know.”

“baby, yes—please,” he whines, his eyes plead. choso’s entire body felt so hot-tempered, warm.

it was cute seeing him grow frustrated, yet he was still as whiney as always, pink lips of his pursing and pouting as you teasingly and slowly made your way to sit on his face. “t-thank you, thank y—mph..”

your panties were still on but choso could care less, as you plopped down gently on his face — he couldn’t take it.

one single stripe lick between the crevices of your underwear was enough to make you moan out his name, hovering over him while giving him that same timid gaze. “c’mon. i need this, need you,” he’d speak, his own breath was racing against itself, jittery.

he gives your thighs a quick pry with his right hand, spreading your legs and you moan as he’s literally eating you out through your laced panties.

“ride my nose, baby. pleasepleaseplease. wanna savor my pretty girl’s—” and he pauses to breathe, almost forgetting to before moaning out. “..pussy.”

“c-choso..” you panted, starting to ride against his nose. he looked so pretty and submissive underneath you, a smile never leaving his lips as you were continuously starting to cover the lower half of his chin with your sweet slick. “fuck, fuck.”

his tongue was sloppy, never ending with the way it slurps your folds up. teasing your puffy clit with numerous sucks, his head’s swiftly moving and jerking as your hips moved and moved against him. choso reaches down to rub against the brick hard bulge building up in his shorts and he whines.

“c-can i touch myself?” he whimpers, and your heart swoons at him even asking. “….god, i’m so hot for you, baby. you make me so dirty. your taste… ‘s doin' this to me. just.. wanna please you, all night long baby.”

SUGURU ☆ GETO

“m' serious, princess,” geto mutters, gripping onto your shoulders. he looked like he’d just came back from his hourly workout. he’s staring you dead in the eyes, some strands of long black hair sticking to his forehead, and it appears as if he’s nearly out of breath. “i…ate your uh candy. but it’s not like you labeled it or anyt-”

geto freezes for a moment. he grows dramatically stiff, before staring down at his pants then at you. “shit.”

“…sugu, are you hard?” you giggled.

and oh, he grows so embarrassed. geto’s facial expression turns into a cute scowl, his ears grows hot the more he stares at you—and indeed he is.

geto’s boner was sort of hard to ignore. him wearing grey sweats didn’t make things easier either.

“can..can you help me or not? y’don’t know how painful this…is,” he huffs out and seconds later after you comply with a sweet little ‘okay’ he’s got you sprawled out all pretty on the bed. “more hornier than u-usual..” he swallows, leaning in to plant kisses straight down your chest to your stomach before he slides your panties off.

you stared at geto, and he licks his lips, panting. his chest heaved back and forth and he’s sweating a bit, he’s so turned on he feels so hot once he’s easing his way inside your pussy with his dick.

“m-mhm,” he bites his lip, keeping one hand resting on your tummy. you never heard him this whiney before and it was so cute. he doesn’t wanna rush but he can’t help it but start to create a pace with his hips. you moaned once he leaned into you, whining in his low voice, “kiss me, please. kiss me, princess.”

he was so thick. you felt him everywhere, his thrusts were so sloppy against you. more sloppier than usual but he was so driven.

his mind raced and his heart heated ten times faster than it regularly does.

“come here, baby.” you playfully smiled, moving his long dancing hair strands from his face and he deeply kissed you with tongue. hearing you say ‘baby’ got him more turned on.

the candy, your taste, and just your smooth sweet voice alone was gonna be the death of him.

“okay, okay…” he pants, you wrap your arms around him as his body weight lightly lingers against your chest. he’s so sensitive, warm as he leans in to kiss you for a second time.

it’s more quick and steamy. your tongue collides against his and you taste the sweet tang of the intoxicated candy residing on his tongue. you moaned at his hips smacking against yours at such rhythm. geto lets off a soft whiney purr at the way you comb a hand through his hair.

his lips were connected to yours for what seemed like forever. his warmth radiates against your skin as his body rocks against you.

“so sweet,” he murmurs, breaking away for a brief moment, his cock taps against your most sensitive bits and you whine. geto’s gentle but can’t help but be a bit crazy with thrusts, his strokes that made you dizzy. “i-i need more,” he huffs out, kissing the side of your mouth, then your neck, then your chest.

geto’s still huffing and puffing as he’s inside of you—each stinging slap he creates with his hips, you run into him and he moans, raising your right leg up, the leg that was wrapped around his waist to lick a long stripe up it while keeping direct eye contact. “can’t get enough.. ‘n it’s all your damn fault, princess.”

NANAMI ☆ KENTO

“sweetheart..”

is all your boyfriend says. you’re bent over the counter, and he pauses, you slip off a moan as nanami’s pressed up against you. his voice sounds lower than usual, raspy and somewhat whiney..? he intakes a breath before lifting the fabric of your sundress up. “i don’t want you to..see me like this.”

“kento, baby,” you shyly smile, not even facing him. “i told you yesterday not to eat the candy. the side effects are um…strong.”

with one hand, nanami tugs on his tie back and forth, he’s hot. “i’m aware of that now,” he grunts and you let off a gasp, feeling his hard boner rub against your ass. he grabs onto your waist and starts to make you grind your ass against him and he swears underneath his breath.

“fuck me,” he mutters in frustration. “forgive me, s-sweetheart but i just…i really wanna take you right here over this counter. restrain your cute hands with my tie and..”

“what’s stopping you then?” you teased.

and that was all it took nanami couldn’t hold back anymore, the lust overtook him and it was too strong. your cloying fragrance alone had him so tipsy. you’re perfectly arched over the sleek shiny, granite kitchen counter. nanami’s ruthless with his hits against your core. “k-kento..”

you’d moan out, your own hands pinned against your back with the neatly tie restraining your wrists, not too tight but just enough. you’re just bent over with the most perfect arch.

he’s so warm as he sloppily thrusts against you, again and again. his tip brushes against between your folds and you whimper out from how good he’s hitting you from behind. he’s got an exquisite tempo of roughness but also very gentle.

nanami grunts with the way your ass kisses against him each time. he purposely grows quiet to hear the hard hits, yanking on your pretty sundress. “jus’ like that, baby,” he’d moan out, barely able to contain himself. “throw yourself back…against me, jus’ like that…goddamn, girl.”

you were hunched over, wrists still restrained with his striped tie, a good grip of you as you’re being pounded ruthlessly against the counter. he’s never felt this horny and aroused before, hot and cold describes his heat and he groans at the way you move against him.

his dick reached you in each crevice, each spot with such ease you’re whining. you covered his base with your slick, he gets so hard from the recoil the more he stares down. nanami eyes the way the pretty sundress you wore—the one he bought you for valentine’s day, was all wrinkled and lazily pulled up to your waist. “s-so good, kento. more..”

“good, want you to feel good,” he rasps, caressing your bare ass once more. once his fat tip reaches your g-spot with a single hit you choke out his name and it sounds so pretty. “arch that pretty back just a more for me, pretty.”

you do and he gives you a soft encouraging spank, just to hear you whimper out kentooo. it drives him crazy, you drive him crazy—he’s so obsessed with the way your ass jerks back against him.

one swift smack and you moan, he slides a tongue across his lip, grunting at the way the recoil just bounces against him. he’s so dizzy, holding on to your hips, a firm grip and making you move back and forth before he starts panting.

“a little more, sweet girl,” and you do, moaning once his hefty base smacks against your ass. he starts to get a bit whiney, despite his low pitched voice, he’s completely losing composure. “all the way down, bend for me….y-yeah,” he stutters, and you get shivers, feeling nanami teasingly run two fingers down your spine.

“fuck, you’re gonna milk me, honey. make a…damn mess out of me.” and you do—because not even moments later, nanami ends up spraying thin ropes of of his cum all over your pussy, painting it like a canvas. “got me all messy just for you, p-princess.”

FUSHIGURO ☆ TOJI

toji’s hungry ass genuinely doesn’t care. 

the moment he spots a pocket-sized, untouched velvet box of tasty sweets with cute neat handwritten of a sharply that wrote ‘DO NOT EAT ME!!” he pays no mind.

eating it, savoring the rich taste of caramel and cinnamon. he’d probably eat in front of you just to spite you.

yet, the last thing you’d expect would be to return home to a needy whiny toji. 

“hey…girl,” you hear from behind you. he sounds worn out, as if he’d run a marathon.

he greets you with an awkward hug, which is more so just him feeling on your ass, his boner poking against your leg and he intakes your sweet scent before grunting into your neck.

“i…i ate the fucking candy. and all of a sudden you smell sweeter than..than usual and, shit.” he sighs, feeling your soft lips kiss the side of his mouth, his scar. “look. i just..i need you, bad,” and he sounds embarrassed, not even presenting you eye contact. 

his eyes hide underneath his long uncut strands before he continues, picking you up while gripping down on your thighs. “but..maybe this’ll fuckin’ help..”

and by that…he means putting you in a simple mating press, toji’s stuffing you full of cock, he’s doing more moaning than you which is surprising.

his weight that lodges over your pussy just smacks against you each and everytime. he’s treating you like a rag doll basically. you’re just dumbly being stuffed full of inches, holding onto his beefy arms while he’s thrusting in and out, smack after smack it makes your ears ring.

“mhm yeah baby—girl,” he’d choke out, and you’re squeezing down on him so tight it makes his jaw clench. “so damn…hot, fuck i need more…gotta overflow this pussy s’good it’s drippin’ out.” and you whimper at him clamping down on you.

his thrusts became so nasty and sloppy, barely any rhythm. 

toji looks so pretty when he’s needy. deranged, but pretty. he’s sweating a bit, beads race down the sides of his forehead, toned muscles were tense, including his back muscles. yet he blinks twice again.

slowing his strokes just a bit before groaning. “f-fuck, nasty bitch y’er tryna milk m-me?” and he whines—a gasp wretching from his mouth before that’s when toji realizes. 

he came early.

toji stares at you, panting heavily, bottom lip quivering as he’s still got you in a mean mating press. your legs were just dumbly in the air, twitching and you moaned at feeling his cum trickle down your slit, oozing out of you.

“toji baby, did you just whine?” you teased, heaving yourself. and toji showcases a glare, bringing a swift spank towards your pussy and you moan. 

“say…say that shit again…” he murmurs, all out of breath. he sits up, still stuffed deep inside you, his thick sheeny triceps flexed as he had them pressed against the sides of you.

“say what?”

he’s so embarrassed—a sheepish expression washes over him, tips of his ears were fuming with hotness before he grumbles, pulling out just to avert his eyes towards your messy pussy. “fuckin’….call me…baby again...please.”

“call you baby, yeah?” you teased, and he glares, a cute scowl on his face

“…you heard me, whore.”

GOJO ☆ SATORU

“hey, you’re back,” he utters, hugging you from behind. he smells so good—peppering your neck with a variety of chaste kisses, he sounds a bit shaken up and he’s far more clingy than usual.

the minute you hug turn around to hug him, softly running a finger down his undercut he lets off a moan. “y-your touch. ‘s been so long since-”

“toru i was only gone for three hours,” you mumbled, and he stared at you.

his entire face was flushed, his usual fluffy and well was all in his face. messy, ruffled, and he was sweating just a bit.

“why-” then you pause, moving your eyes towards the night stand to see the empty wrappers of candy scattered everywhere. “you- did you eat those?”

“no,” he immediately says, with a swift head shake, before letting off an ashamed, “yes.. i couldn’t help it. i thought you were just joking about the um…horniness.. but baby, i-i need you on top of me.”

he was so desperate.

you decided to 'help' him, in his way he wanted you to ride him so the lust could wear off, hopefully.

gojo’s so loud, slouched back against the squashy pillows of the sofa.

his head goes back before gripping your waist, whining at the way your hips rollicked against him. “f-fuck me more, touch me more. kiss me..baby please, ‘m so hot, pussy’s making me burn up, fuck..”

“satoru,” you mumbled, bucking your hips against him and it makes you suck your teeth. he was so big, easily stretching you out, molding out your pussy with such grace.

“stop talking.” you moaned, rocking back and forth. his cock, the girth of it stretched inside of you and you bite down on your lip.

gojo’s hair nearly covers his eyes, and he’s panting and whining each second. the way you clamp and squeeze around him makes his head spin.

“m-make me, girl.” he pouts.

you rolled your eyes, leaning in to kiss him and gojo moans in your mouth. the slim tip of his tongue ran against yours and he was so sloppy, breathing out his nose. he squeezed your ass with his left hand before whimpering once he started to bottom out.

he pulls away, simultaneously grabbing one of your breasts to latch his lips onto your perky nipple, a sweet attempt to hide his moans but he was still loud.

“mph,” he muffled, blue eyes staring up at you as you rode him so good his eyes nearly starts to roll back and you moan from the stimulation. his orgasm came so hard that he’s almost seeing stars. he painted your insides white—so much came out, it’s like he’s been saving his old just for you, he couldn’t stop tottering while being beneath you.

that’s when he lets out a sharp breath—tapping you lightly with his bottom lip visibly poking out.

“can..can you praise me?” he pants, you slow down your rhythm and gojo’s pupils dilates a bit, he swallows before moaning once you lean in to kiss near his neck. “your voice gets me so..tingly.”

“you did so good, satoru,” you hummed, kissing his nose, then his neck, then his chin, he’s still buried inside and he can’t stop moaning from your touch.

you run a finger down his v-line and he whimpers, his eyes following your movement and he was indeed warm. “…good boy.”

“jus’ hearing you talk ‘s gonna make me cum again, baby.” he choked out.

his soft shaky moans go against your ear the minute you start to ride him again, a slow yet sensual pace and he’s about to lose his mind. “don’t s-stop fucking me please. ‘m your good boy. all yours...fuck.”

[gutsby]

Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.

[maxlarens]

OP: well, that isn't fucking relevant

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader

summary: someone tries to threaten your job, oscar has some choice words for him. (OR: the trials and tribulations of being a woman in a male dominated sport)

word count: 2.7k+

an: i kinda hate the white knight trope but i still wrote this lol, it scratches an itch and i think driver!reader did a sufficient amount of defending of herself beforehand. anyway, this is a one shot that's kind of connected to my smau series just a girl. enjoy!!!!! [also standard disclaimer: this does not reflect the opinions of any real life people/companies/organisations/etc. it is fiction. thank you]

You’re no stranger to sexism in Formula racing— you knew going into this that you’d have to deal with thinly veiled remarks about your gender and purposefully obtuse questions from reporters who think they know more than you about the sport you’ve dedicated your life to. You had to deal with it when you were karting, you had to deal with it during your stint in F2, and you have to deal with it now.

The fact of the matter is that some people do not think you belong here, and therefore are entirely unable to integrate the reality that you are very much here to stay, into their worldview. You’re lucky to have somehow earned Lewis’ loyalty, which had brought the Mercedes contract and the support of Toto simultaneously. Mercedes-AMG aren’t making leaps and bounds into the world of feminism, but you’re grateful for the seat regardless. You’re here and not going anywhere if you can help it.

You try your best to stay off the bad parts of social media, so as not to be subjected to the barrage of hate comments and death threats directed your way. You’re tough— but no one’s that tough. It’s fine for the most part. You focus on the racing, how the car feels, your performance and improving it weekend after weekend. You try at least. You’d love to leave your gender entirely out of the mix, you don’t think it’s relevant frankly. But unfortunately, the reporters do. (And so do some choice individuals working on the grid, who just can’t seem to keep their big fucking mouths shut about you.)

It’s disappointing, sure— but not surprising to sit down at a press conference and get a smattering of questions about your rumoured relationships and extracurricular activities when every other driver gets fifty questions practically thrown at them about their performance, or FIA regulations, or the track conditions. The part that bothers you the most is honestly just the lack of interest. It’s like they don’t think anything you have to say about the sport is valuable so they just don’t ask you the same questions they bother to ask the men. That probably is the actual case too.

So— y’know— you’re not that shocked when a reporter from some sports blog you’ve never heard of straight out asks if you “expect to be switched out with another female driver next year?”

The room goes dead fucking silent in a way that you do actually find satisfying. It’s good to know that most of the reporters in the room do know a tactless question when they hear one, or at least that you inspire enough fear in people that they’re waiting with bated breath to hear your response. Next to you, Oscar tenses, you can feel it where your thighs are touching. You can imagine his face right now without looking, that pinched micro-grimace he does. The barest hint of a crease in the bridge of his nose as he tries not to scowl. You want to put your hand on his knee and squeeze it in thanks.

You don’t. Instead, you frown and cock your head to the side, meeting the eyes of the reporter across the room.

Slowly, measuredly, you repeat, “I’m sorry, do I expect to be replaced with another female driver next year? Is that what you said?”

He nods, bringing the microphone closer to his mouth as if you really couldn’t hear him the first time, “Yes, yeah. That is what I asked.”

You hum, pursing your lips as if you’re sincerely considering his question. You can see a few people in the crowd who are cringing already, some of them have been on the receiving end of your tendency to play with your food before you eat it. Your ego feels pretty good about that.

“Why would Mercedes want to replace me?” you ask in your most polite voice, feigning real curiosity to this man who you doubt has done any research at all on you.

“Um,” he errs, some of his former unflappable confidence leeching out of his tone, “Well, to give more women a chance in Formula One—”

You start to speak over him, done with entertaining his ignorance. You bite, “—there are other teams for that, actually. I don’t think it’s presumptuous to say that I’ve earned my seat at Mercedes, or that I’ve proven that I belong here so far this season. In which, I have not qualified or placed below a P7. And I certainly don’t think it’s fair of you to ask if I am going to voluntarily give up my hard-earned seat to another person because you think I am here because of some women’s inclusion effort by Mercedes. And, okay, who knows, maybe I am. But I am not giving up this seat without a fight, nor do I imagine that Mercedes are in a rush to find someone to replace me right now. You’ll have to ask someone to confirm that though.”

You wind down after that, punctuating your point with a firm nod; some of the fight and the fury seeping out as you start to reckon with the potential consequences of your outburst. Mercedes’ PR rep will have something to say surely, you’re just hoping you haven’t crossed some kind of uncrossable line. Another part of you doesn’t quite care as you watch the reporter gape like a fish out of water, feeling rather satisfied that you’d put him in his place.

Eventually, the room recovers and moves on from you. Checo is getting asked his opinion on tyres while you share a furtive glance with Oscar. He smiles approvingly, mouth closed and the apples of his cheeks pushed up into his eyes. You feel the urge to touch his knee again but resist, instead smiling back as covertly as you possibly can. A warm feeling spreads in your chest and you almost forget about the reporter and his stupid question in favour of watching Oscar’s slow-burn smile.

Mercedes is fine with it, it turns out. Apparently, you’re doing the heavy lifting for them in the feminism department and all they have to do is have Toto or someone come out and say a few words in agreement. It suits them fine, they don’t need to take any hard stances and you get the blame if anything goes horribly wrong. That grates at you, of course it does. But you’ve got a seat, haven’t you? You’re not going to give it up because Mercedes are covering their asses like the multibillion-dollar company that they are.

It means you’ve avoided the all-hands-on-deck PR meeting you thought you’d be stuck in tonight, but it’s left you in too sour a mood for this party. It’s some function, fundraiser, something or other and they’ve invited all the teams, drivers and ‘important’ FIA staff. This means there’s an inordinate amount of people here and you’re really not into it.

But you’re still here. You’ve shoved yourself into a cute, strappy, black top, and a denim mini-skirt and you’ve even added some cute jewellery in a feeble attempt to match whatever over-the-top outfit Lewis has arrived in. It’s at least a step up from your usual team polo and leggings, or the Mercedes hoodie that you pull on over it. You’re comfortable. You’re fine.

You pull a hand out of the pocket of your oversized leather jacket as Oscar comes back over with your beer. You smile at the expression on his face as you take the neck in between your fingers. He’s scowling openly, the corners of his lips curled up in distaste.

“Busy?” you ask, then you hold up the beer in thanks, “Cheers, by the way.”

“Hmm, too crowded,” he affirms, “I lost Lando.”

You shrug, taking a swig of the refreshingly cold beer, “Actually? Or did he run off with someone?”

Oscar snorts, “Yeah, no. He got into a conversation with Max.”

You laugh, “Yeah, in that case, I reckon we’ll see Lando in a few hours.”

“Definitely.”

The two of you share an amused smile before you’re back to looking into the crowd because sometimes, it’s hard for you to look at him— like looking directly into the sun. You’re aware of him in your periphery, standing there and rocking back and forth on his heels, occasionally taking a sip of his drink. He looks away for a moment, and you turn to look at him. Taking in the endearing swoop of his hair, the scattering of freckles and moles on the side of his pale face, the long line of his neck disappearing into the collar of his shirt. You shift your eyes slightly to the right of him, to the patchwork of vents and scaffolding in the ceiling, feigning as if you’d only been casually looking his way.

“That reporter was a piece of work,” Oscar says once he’s drifted his attention back to you.

You roll your eyes on instinct, and groan, “Tell me about it, holy shit, Osc. What an asshole. I don’t know if he was just stupid or legit didn’t know a single thing about me.”

“Mm,” Oscar hums in agreement, “and I like how no one asked you a single question after that. Way to go guys, that’s exactly how you show your support.”

You roll your eyes, still smiling a little at the contented feeling you’ve got in your chest, “I know, right. Trust, they all got on their keyboards afterwards to wax lyrical about how deserving I am of my seat. It’d be fucken’ nice if they acted like it during press conferences.”

“Yeaah,” he sighs, half-laugh, half-exhale, “It’s unfair.”

“Fucken' right,” you gripe, tipping your head back and letting a slip of fizzy beer cascade down your throat— the alcohol, though meagre, leaves you feeling loose, a little reckless, “It sucks Osc. God, I just want to be respected. If I had a dick and balls I’d be fucking killing it, dude. This is my rookie season, I’ve been scoring points every race. Except for the DNF, which was not my fault. But, fuck me, they don’t give a shit.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to stave off the angry tears that are sitting behind your eyelids, threatening. When you open them Oscar is staring at you, frowning, his brown eyes huge and sparkling and sympathetic. They’re like a black hole you want to fall into. Your heart squeezes. He’s so— ugh. Quickly, your mind supplies about a hundred answers to that question: sweet, cute, nice, adorable. Something stutters in your chest and you feel your cheeks starting to grow hot. That slow-burn smile of Oscar’s starts on his face, and you watch dimples form on his cheeks.

The moment is quickly ruined by a particularly nasally Italian accent that you vaguely recognise, “You know,” it says, clearly talking to you, “You should make sure to watch your tone. You never know who could be listening.”

Mood thoroughly dampened, you turn to face the interruption. It turns out to be one of the numerous men on the grid who won’t shut up about you, sharing unsolicited opinions left and right. He has his arms crossed against his chest and a smug expression on his face, as if he’s just caught you doing something terrible— instead of simply complaining about the subpar treatment you’re afforded.

He’s not worth your time whatsoever but God you’re angry. Maybe it’s just been too much shit on top of shit today but you cannot deal reasonably with this man right now— and you are not afforded the luxury of not acting reasonably toward someone like this, no matter how much of a dickhead they are. You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. Close it and bite down on your bottom lip so nothing accidentally slips out. You’re trying to fish a semi-civil sentence out of a sea of fuck you fuck you fuck you on repeat and it’s not working.

“Are you threatening her?” Oscar asks, a dangerous lilt to his tone, and somewhere in the pulse of anger, you think this is the happiest you’ve ever been to hear his voice, “Because, I am pretty sure your team principal would not be pleased to hear that you’re going around threatening one of Mercedes’ drivers.”

He scoffs, trying to play it off, but you think you register a little bit of worry somewhere in there— Oscar can be threatening when he wants to be and McLaren are not exactly nobodies in this sport right now, “Please, I am not threatening her. I am just telling her that she needs to watch her mouth.”

“Right,” Oscar nods, mouth pinching, “Sure. Well, it would be our word against yours and I’m fairly sure your team principal would believe two drivers over you right now. Especially with that history, you’ve got, dude.”

A little thrill goes up your spine as his face goes white as a sheet. Oscar’s talking about the nice little list of comments he’s made that you’ve reported to your team and an FIA representative— which you’ve taken to doing every time anyone starts up a pattern of saying things about you or to you. They’re to cover your ass honestly, so you can’t be accused of making things up if push comes to shove. You’re sure they’ve made their way back to him and his boss; you’re glad they’ve made an impact (but perhaps not enough to stop him outright).

He sniffs, a nervous edge to his words, “I am not threatening her.”

“Okay. Apologise.”

“Excuse me?”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, “If you’re not threatening her, apologise.”

You bite the inside of your lip and grip the neck of your near-empty beer bottle tighter. Alright, Oscar can be scary. Noted. Very much noted.

“I—” He quickly thinks better of protesting and looks at you, lips pursed in a thin angry line, “I apologise.”

He looks at Oscar, Oscar looks at you. You shrug and nod. Good enough. You don’t need him to grovel, you think he’s been sufficiently humiliated already. Although, before he scampers off into the crowd at Oscar’s approval, you manage a dry, “You think I need to watch my tone now?”

He scowls, but says, “No,” anyway.

Then he stalks off into the throng of people.

You relax more the further that he gets away from the two of you. The tension dissipates into something warm and charged with a different kind of electricity entirely. You ignore the unease that tries to take root in your stomach and instead focus on Oscar at your side.

“That was—” you scrub a hand over your face, starting your sentence again, “Hm.”

Oscar sigh-laughs again, “Yeah, what an asshole.”

“Thank you,” you say meaning it wholeheartedly, “No one’s done something like that for me before.”

Oscar looks down at you, frowning, he shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” you answer, feeling bold as you put a hand on his bicep in an attempt to express how grateful you feel for him, for what he’d done for you, “It’s really not, Osc.”

He’s quiet, staring at you with big brown sparkling eyes for a long long moment. A long moment in which you fantasise about reaching upward and pulling his face down to yours, feeling his lips against your own. They’d be soft, you think— his hair would be too. You don’t think about it and you resolutely ignore the tug low in your gut.

“You deserve it,” he says eventually, loud enough that you can hear it, but not anyone else, “You are killing it, by the way.”

You breathe a laugh, “Yeah, I’d better be.”

You squeeze gently at his bicep, feeling the sinewed muscle underneath his dress shirt. Then you let your hand drop, trailing absently down his arm as you do so. Your fingers brush his hand, and he catches yours before it's out of reach at your side. Purposefully, he threads your fingers with his, squeezing firmly and brushing his thumb tenderly over your knuckle. You feel a little lightheaded when he lets go.

You sigh, masking the out-of-breath quality of your voice, “I need another drink.”

“Yeah,” Oscar breathes, “Me too, I reckon.”

🏎️ title taken from this song :)

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬 || 𝐄𝐧𝐳𝐨 𝐕𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐜 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ you are the girl who does the makeup effects for the society of the snow and you fall for el pendejo de Enzo (no te creas, papi tkm💋). But you start avoiding him because it’s not correct to fall in love with someone like him.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ AGE GAP (I’m turning 20 in March, let me live my fantasy), angst, fluff, Spanglish fic (I’m Mexican American, I know what I’m writing), reader is in denial and speaks Spanish, idk misunderstandings?, happy ending (irl Enzo nunca nos va a pelar)😭

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞_ I hate Spanglish but how can I keep both mi gente latino and my RAHHH🦅🇺🇸 people happy? With a Spanglish fic. I let go all my frustrations y lo ardida que estoy con cierto uruguayo.

♪ ♫ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝟒 𝐄𝐧𝐳𝐨 𝐕𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐜 ✰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱

@kissmemucho on X // @_hannia.k on instagram

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One day, you started hating going to work. It was half work, half practice for college. Still, you started hating it. From moving some months to Spain to work on the makeup team for a movie, to spending hours with each actor to do their makeup.

That wasn’t the issue though. It was just that… uh… gosh.

You had developed a crush for that man called Enzo. It was so cringe to admit. And it tore apart you because he was significantly older than you. He would never turn to look down at you. That was the most honest thing about the whole thing. Only that you were even depriving yourself from being his friend.

But god, his pretty nose and deep eyes. His soft hair and perfect smile. The way he was so kind to everyone and to you. Soon you learned he was single too. It was so damn much that it made you so mad. He was perfect. Gorgeous in every sense.

And that’s exactly why you now hate going to work.

Sometimes the aura around the team seemed to be heavy due to the context of the movie. You had seen how every actor started to lose weight and prepare for the role. Which was a little tough. Anyways, everyone in the cast believed you were a burst of sunshine at least. Who seemed to make the hours spent seated on a chair with makeup and prosthetics being placed a little more fair.

“¡HEY!…GUAPA, VENÍ PARA ACÁ!” You heard as soon as you entered the workplace. Once you spotted the little circle of boys, you rolled your eyes and giggled.

“¿Y ahora qué se te ofrece Juani?”

“Que confirmes si vienes a cenar con todos” you looked at the others. Matías and the others were exchanging looks, with none other than Enzo. You don’t even look at the man, you can only focus on the boy with annoying blue eyes.

“Cómo jodes, chico. Ya veré si voy o no, tengo mucho que hacer” that was true, you had a lot to do. But mostly, it was because you believed you had nothing amazing to share with them.

“Podemos esperarte.” Enzo said, which immediately made your stomach flutter and your chest to get congested. He was wearing some t-shirt and those damn Adidas joggers he liked to repeat on a daily basis.

The fact that he suggested waiting for you to go out and have dinner should’ve made you blush, but it only made you nervous, increasing your eagerness to run away from the little circle of men.

“No pasa nada, váyanse ustedes. Que se la pasen bien…” and poor Enzo, he watched how you disappeared through the hallways with your big bag full of makeup and brushes.

“Ya va a caer…”

“Pero ni me gusta” everyone giggled. Enzo knew you were younger, of age, but younger. He also knew you were from a little too far away from Uruguay, that you were bilingual, that you were passionate about writing and other arts, that your eyes were lighter than expected in the sun, that your hands were very soft and that you were so extroverted with everyone except with him.

“Sos idiota, si no te gustara no te hubieras quedado como mogólico viéndola irse”

“Pero es una niña…” he tried to reason.

“La veinteañera universitaria que trabaja aquí en producción y anda sola por la vida” everyone laughed again. You were certainly an adult. Yeah you still acquired toys, listened to silly music and watched Barbie or Bratz movies. But you were legally an adult.

Which led Enzo wondering if he could ever have a chance with you. You had seen a lot of people, with how many times you had travelled to Los Angeles, the heart of Hollywood and everything, sometimes he doubted you could be interested in him.

But no… he definitely hadn’t caught an eye on you.

…

It was a Friday. A week from the day you rejected dinner with your workmates. Nothing serious happened after that. Juani made fun and exposed you with random tweets like a bully. He was laughing his ass off of you, so shameless and stupid. However, you on the other hand… were dying out of embarrassment. Especially after seeing how many people started following him. Then gifting him with an army of girls starving for shitpost around the internet.

“Si no estuvieras por grabar una escena tan desgarradora, te ahorcaba en este preciso momento, Juani '' you wanted to kill him. He had posted online two videos of you dancing like the proudest stripper, a picture of you rolling your eyes that looked extremely silly and dorky. Two audios of you cursing in Spanish and saying how much you hated capitalism. And he even made his own stickers of you to pass around the group chat of the cast.

“Eso te pasa por ¡RIDÍCULA!” The tone he used, extremely mocking you was enough to make you laugh along with him and caught the attention of everyone surrounding you two.

“Pues nunca te conseguiré el follow de los ex-One Direction” he stopped laughing, knowing you had made him remember his humbling twitter posts.

“¡Qué boluda… y pesada!”

“Okay, pinche ardido” one of the design team members from the movie appeared and handed you a little paper. It was the list of your schedule. Juani snatched it and opened it before you could even blink.

“UYYY… te toca todo el día con Enzo” he started teasing you like a child. You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

“Pero la boluda y pesada soy yo”

“Pues si” you finally read the paper and yes… 3 hours with Enzo.

“Well… it could be worse” you admitted sighing, accepting that you would spend three hours swallowing your pride and pierced feelings.

“Dejáte querer…” you frowned confused at the boy beside you.

“What?” You asked laughing, but he only shrugged.

“Nothing, dear” once again, you rolled your eyes.

“De verdad eres medio insoportable” he batted his ears, acting innocent. Deep down, both of you were actually friends.

“Te quiero” he responded, making you laugh once again.

“Si, yo también. Mi pendejito favorito”

“No, ese debe ser Enzo” this time, you blushed.

“Como chingas con meterlo en nuestras conversaciones. ¿Te gusta o qué?” He laughed, helping you out with your heavy bag full of brushes and capes and everything.

“No. ¿Y a vos? ¿Gustas de Enzo?” You remained quiet, pretending you hadn’t heard him.

You opened the door of the little room, surprised to see Enzo already there. So you grabbed the bag from Juani and started closing the door.

“Adios, naco perdedor” and just like that, you closed the door on his face.

You sighed, closing your eyes, before staring at the plain door for some seconds.

“Hola…” you heard his deep and sweet voice. It was just… that you had to be a big girl and leave aside your foolishness for that grown ass man. He was just a crush… a simple mortal at the end.

“Hi…” you replied awkwardly. You had seen the following section of his instagram, the most pretty girls, very different from you. Which made you feel… like it was auto-sabotage. But before you could start feeling depressed again. You decided to keep working, the only reason why you were in that room in the first place.

He would think you kinda disliked him. Every time you entered to work on his makeup, he would be smiling and trying to talk to you. And while you were polite and smiley too, you remained very quiet, always avoiding his cute eyes.

“¿Cómo estás?” He would ask, looking at you through the mirror in the room.

“Pues muy bien, gracias.” You would reply, turning to open the boxes with prosthetics and other special effects makeup. And he sighed, already feeling a little disappointed.

“¿Me permites tus manos?” You ask him. He shows you the palm of his hands with another smile, which you reply quickly. Your heart started pounding as soon as he walked into the room.

“Perdón si estoy fría.” You admit with a blush, knowing the tips of your fingers were freezing.

“No pasa nada, linda” he had to be joking. He couldn’t call you “linda” just like that? However, you do your best to ignore it.

So you start making little lines of the paint samples you had taken. Until you noticed which one was identical to his skin.

“Okay, I got it.” You speak to yourself, out loud though. Sometimes Enzo questioned if you weren’t fluid in Spanish, but he had heard you talk and talk with other people in Spanish. Your accent was so clean, so different to the rest of the crew.

“¿Te molesta si pongo música?” You ask him, grabbing your phone.

“No, para nada.”

“Nomás no me vayas a juzgar” you giggle without looking at him, scrolling through your playlist.

It was the first time you attempted to joke with him. And he wouldn’t risk the opportunity.

“Jamás podría…” you only thank him before starting to play some music.

He was used to your touch now. You had small and soft hands compared to him. Every time you had to pick the right tone that matched his skin, brush his hair and work inches away from his face. It was insufferable for you. And to him… it only built more intrigue.

He listens to how you barely mumble some songs.

“¿Quién es ella?” He asks at the song.

“Nelly Furtado” you reply, concentrating on his hands, starting to draw the fake wounds. Promiscuous was a great song to feel empowered while trying to beat the feelings for the man who was extremely close to you.

Some minutes passed and then Madonna came with Dress You Up and Enzo barely got it right. You sing very low and he tries to hear you with precision.

“¿Y esta?” You ask him when gorgeous started.

and God, that damn song was like a curse and blessing at that very moment.

You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much

(I hate you so much)

You've ruined my life, by not being mine

You're so gorgeous

I can’t say anything to your face

'Cause look at your face

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way

That was you. That was how much you hated your feelings for him. Because he would never be yours.

And somehow, Enzo got the message. He wasn’t sure but he felt how you changed the way of singing and avoided his eyes.

“¿Y esa quién es?” He asked once again.

“Esa es Taylor Swift”

“No la conozco” you giggle, ignoring the song a little bit.

“¡Enzo, por Dios!. ¿En qué mundo vives?” You found it very hard to believe he didn’t know half of your musical taste.

“Pues en Uruguay…” for the first time, he makes you laugh and talks to you so fucking much that you have to stop spreading the fake dirt on his face.

You're gorgeous

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad

There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have

You are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad

You’re so gorgeous

“¿Por qué nunca sales con nosotros?” He asks suddenly, and it takes you aback. That you end up looking straight at his face.

“Tú tampoco sales, prefieres quedarte en el cerro” he laughs, feeling a little too comfortable under your touch on his cheeks and chin.

“He salido dos veces con ellos. ¿Y vos? Cero…”

“Estoy ocupada.” You simply reply.

“No es cierto. Por ahí me dijeron que te la pasas viendo películas y escribiendo fanfiction” you blush, but you keep working.

Actually, last Saturday was the first weekend you cried because of him. You couldn’t even stay at a local bar. You left your friends there to go home. New addition to your routine.

“Maybe… ¿pero a ti qué si no voy?” You ask giggling, hoping he would drop the issue. You pause the music and slip your phone inside your bag before returning to him. Scared of his possible answer.

“Pues… porque te quiero ver” your hands start shaking.

“¿A mí?”

“Si. A ti, linda” he senses how taken aback you are. And he realized, that he had adapted some of your slang words from all the time he spent with you.

“¿Por qué yo, Enzo?” He smiles, and you want to kill him. He made the gesture like you had been so oblivious for ages.

“Porque…” slowly, he grabbed your wrist, preventing you from keeping working on his face. He touches you with such gentleness that it makes you finally start shaking.

The way he looks at you. It must’ve been a dream, two pairs of eyes deeply connected. He was silently revealing he liked you. Once you get it, you shake your head, his eyes giving you some confirmation.

“No..” You brush away from him.

“Si… tal vez suene raro o no me creas… pero, vos me gustas. Por eso quiero verte y busco tus bonitos ojos cada vez que trabajas conmigo…” you sigh, dropping the brush and paint a little too violent.

“¿Y por qué yo entre tantas diosas que están a tus pies?” You are fighting against the tears already forming on your eyes. He remains quiet, and to you… that’s an answer.

He doesn’t like the way you are being too negative. But you don’t like having that conversation at all. You are shocked, and you don’t feel in love at that moment. You feel panic and stress.

“Fui al bar el sábado pasado y te vi con la chica rubia. Si te gusta alguien no dejas a la chica rubia hacer ni un movimiento. No te encuentras en redes a las chicas a las que les das reacciones” maybe you had no right to be so angered. But it had been two months, and everything had worsened. At that point, your eyes were already red and crystallized.

“Nada de eso significó algo”

“Si fue algo. Fue tu cuarteada en lo que buscabas la manera de acercarte a mí. Por si no te resultaba la cosa conmigo…” again, he remains quiet.

“This is bullshit. Mira Enzo, he estado aquí desde hace dos meses y nunca te acercaste. No te salió el amor por mí hoy” you spit with anger, grabbing your paint and makeup, hurrying to get out of there.

“Me has gustado desde la primera semana cuando te conocí. Pero tú no me quieres, y por eso te evado. Aparte del dilema de nuestra age gap, que podría ser un problema” you explain putting your coat on and grabbing the bag.

“Y eres una persona hermosa, Enzo. Sé que eres el amigo y novio perfecto. Pero mi intuición me dice que me vas a lastimar” he steps between you and the door. The proximity worsens everything, he wants to end it all for once with a kiss to make you feel the way he does.

It was already difficult for him. He had felt slightly depressed while filming, he felt weird, in company but alone at the same time. And he believed you were the right burst of sunshine to lighten his weird mood swings.

But you believed he was lying. He honestly felt hurt that you were mistaking him for some womaniser and asshole.

“No te vayas, por favor” he pleaded, shocked to see your teary eyes. So he started questioning what you said about being hurt.

“Ya acabamos, no te preocupes.” You manage to slip beside him, opening the door and leaving him alone.

The dramatic moment culminated in Enzo feeling more depressed and giving a sadder performance for the movie. For you, it gave you a reason to cry in the shower and stare at the balcony of your place for hours, contemplating the sky and feeling so damn weird.

…

You have flashbacks of seeing him laughing and letting the blonde girl at the bar whisper in his ear. His honest smile and how he admitted he liked you a day ago.

You wished for weeks, now months that he confessed his feelings for you. But the moment he does, it feels wrong. Like it wasn’t meant to happen. Because he’s older, he’s got more experience, he had a very extended long-term girlfriend once, he is too much unlike you.

Maybe it wasn’t meant to happen and this is how it was supposed to end.

With you bursting out in tears and anger. Him believing you were crazy, but you had a point.

He never made a move. Just trying to talk, but he never invited you to do anything with him, or just to stay with him during the free days. It seemed unreal that suddenly he liked you.

And maybe you’re just scared of falling in love, because he could unintentionally but potentially break your heart.

Nonetheless, on the second day you want to distract yourself, it’s Saturday again and you go out alone to jog, then to buy some new clothes and you are about to prepare your dinner when the pain in the ass of Juani asks you to go out for some tapas.

You agree because you really need to distract yourself from thinking about the whole cringy issue with Enzo.

Probably everyone in the production already knew. But you would shut your mouth just to let the rumours die.

You start your walk towards the restaurant when he sends you the location. It’s a few blocks away, and you frown when you see what type of restaurant it is.

“amiguito, pero creí que querías tapas. Este es un restaurante vegano” you send him a voice message. And he replies immediately.

“Ay pues para ser fitness un día nada más, chica. ¿Ya vas para allá?” You roll your eyes, not that you didn’t like vegan food but you wanted tapas.

“Si, morro meco. Ya estoy a un par de cuadras” you send back, putting on your EarPods and route.

You realise how much you like wearing sneakers, long dresses and coats with matching purses. Perfect for the weather and your silly thoughts of walking on the streets along some cool music playing in the background.

Until you arrive at the restaurant and you don’t spot Juani. But maybe he was on his way. So you order first, grilled tofu with vegetables and tangy sauce.

It’s a cute place, and by the time you find a table, it’s already dark. The restaurant has candles everywhere and quality music playing.

When you start closing your purse, you look up and you freeze. Because you see Enzo entering the place, with a tiny bouquet of flowers on his right hand and a water bottle on the other.

He was wearing jeans, a random buttoned shirt and dark sunglasses.

Oh, fuck him. Of course he knew he looked gorgeous.

Quickly you change from your seat, giving your back to him, hopefully becoming invisible.

Your fingers rush to find the contact of Juani and send him a violent voice message.

“Oye, ¿por qué carajo no has llegado? ¿Y por qué Enzo Vogrincic está viendo el menú ahora mismo?” You send and he starts writing.

“Es que él es vegano…” he writes in text, which boils your blood.

“¿Y eso a mí qué chingados me importa, Juani? Ven ya y sácame a escondidas o te juro que me voy a colgar del primer poste de luz que vea” you silently scream, lowering your voice.

“No puedo” that’s it, you’re going to die in a vegan restaurant while Enzo Vogrincic orders food.

You are about to stand up when he literally appears on your table.

Qué hijo de puta, y todavía te sonríe y todo.

“¿Y el Juani ya viene o no?” You ask, trying to sound confident.

“De hecho no va a venir” right, pinche Juani idiota, qué gran amigo y todo.

“That’s it. I’m leaving!” You mumble sighing, standing up from the table, when Enzo grabs your forearm and makes you sit again.

“No, vos te quedas. Mira, te traje estas” he hands you the flowers, yellow tulips.

“Yo nunca le he dicho a Juani… ni a Matías cuáles son mis flores favoritas” you frown confused, grabbing them.

They’re beautiful.

“Tuve que buscar por mi cuenta” he admits, and you frown deeper. Until you open your eyes in shock.

“¿Me zorreraste mi Instagram?” Enzo starts laughing, and you blush. He takes a seat and drops the receipt of his order on the table. You read it, chickpea pasta with arrabiata sauce and zucchini.

You read his order just to avoid looking at his eyes.

“Dejáme explicar todo…” slowly, you look at him. You are still on time to ask for the food to be to go, you can leave and just let this strange issue wash away.

But a waitress appears with your tofu and the pasta. You awkwardly smile and say thank you as well as Enzo.

“Pues ya que…” he smiles, thinking your eyeliner was so perfect. Your dress was cute and the coat made you look elegant and fine.

“Vos sabes quién te engañó. Le pedí que te hiciera venir a un lugar para encontrarme” your roll your eyes. Unbelievable how childish was the whole situation.

“Yo quería tapas”

“Dale, ahorita te llevo por tapas” Enzo says with a giggle. You simply mock him with a gesture and proceed to eat.

“Lamento no haberte dado señales desde el inicio. Creí que con hacerle plática cuando me maquillabas era suficiente.” He confesses.

“Con todos sos un amor. Y conmigo… siempre seria y pues… llegué a pesar que no te agradaba” you shrug, eyebrows rising and avoiding his eyes once again.

“Todo lo contrario…” you admit.

“Ya veo. Entonces hace unas semanas, los chicos empezaron a sacar el tema. Que debía invitarte a salir o hacerte venir con nosotros a comer para ahí verte”

“Y ayer me atreví. Pero temo que tu reacción no fue la que buscaba” he says with many pauses, not wanting to disturb you.

“Tú declaración tampoco fue lo que esperaba.” He nods, calming you.

“Ya lo sé, hubiera sido mejor esperar a estar en un lugar… como este”

“Quizá” you reason with him.

“Incluso desde antes de admitir que vos me gustas, no me he visto con nadie. Así que solo sos tú… nadie más” you nod, looking back at the tulips.

“Están preciosas, gracias” you say lifting the boquete. Enzo smiles. So you know it’s time, you sigh.

“Yo también lo siento por juzgarte sin saber. No tenía derecho de ponerme celosa, ni nada. Es solo que me da miedo dejar que esto, fluya…” you say, not wanting to repeat once again that your intuition said he would break your heart.

“No te voy a lastimar, nunca. Dejáme quererte, linda. Por favor….” he pleads, accepting he was nervous and desperate. He really longed for someone in the upside down moments of his days.

“Yo solo quiero sentir lealtad, confianza, pasión y seguridad. ¿Me puedes dar eso?”

“Te voy a dar todo, pero más lo que vos quieras. Y si lealtad, confianza, pasión y seguridad es lo que querés…. Así será, linda” you smile, finding his hand on top of the table, intertwining your fingers with him.

“Entonces todo bien, lindo” he smiles more, ending in a sweet laugh.

He helps you pick the rest of the food, both of you also order ice cream cones. Him with chocolate and you with pistachios. And soon both of you are walking together in the streets. Spring is near and it’s your favourite season. You feel happy feeling his warm touch outside of the job. And now being inches away from him feels like a new home.

“¿Si vamos a ir por las tapas?” He starts laughing again, and when he leans, you can feel what’s coming.

“Te voy a besar…” he warns before grabbing your cheeks and smashing his lips with yours.

“Te quiero” he spills, and you only smile on his lips, deepening the kiss. Feeling the silly butterflies in your stomach and intense tears of happiness. You almost drop your cone due to that.

“Yo también te quiero” you reply, swiftly bumping your forehead with him. He then takes your hand and suddenly you don’t feel wrong about it.

Now it feels perfect. Like destiny changed and finally it was meant to be.

____________________

update junio 2024: JAJSJDJJDDJ QUÉ MAMADAS ESCRIBÍA EN ENERO. LOL, QUÉ MAL, ENZO AÚN TE QUIERO MUCHÍSIMOOOO🩷

[pucksandpower]

Hi hi. Hope your taking care of yourself. I just want to ask on the grid kids series can i request the drivers being mistaken as grid baby's parents... like shes out with them where people dont know who they are and they get mistaken for being her parents. (you can choose any two drivers if u wanna write it)

Grid Kids: Mistaken Identities

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids learn that sometimes seeing two men with a baby can make people draw the wrong conclusions

Series Masterlist

Max and Charles: Disney Princes

“Why do I feel like we’ve bitten off more than we can chew?” Charles groans, adjusting the collar of his prince costume as they step into the magical world of Tokyo Disneyland.

Max smirks, tugging at his own princely garb. “Because you were easily swayed by a toddler. But why did I let the two of you drag me into this too?”

Your daughter skips ahead, twirling in her Cinderella dress, utterly delighted. “Princess!” She chirps, pointing to herself, and then at them, “Princes!”

Charles laughs, ruffling her hair. “Yes, yes, but remember, you owe me big time.”

Suddenly, a small horde of children swarm around Charles, their eyes wide with awe. “Prince Charming!” One of them squeals, reaching out to touch the hem of his outfit.

Max can’t help but chuckle. “Look at you, a hit with the kiddos already.”

Charles, looking mildly panicked but trying to keep his composure, kneels down, offering his best princely smile. “Hello, little ones. Are you enjoying your day at the castle?”

While Charles is surrounded, a couple approaches Max, eyes flickering between him, Charles, and your daughter. “You three make such a cute family! How long have you and your husband been together?”

Max chokes on his spit. “Oh, no, we’re not — I mean, he’s not — we’re her brothers, not fathers. And we’re definitely not together.”

The woman’s cheeks turn a bright shade of red. “Oh! I’m so sorry. My mistake.”

Charles, now free from the throng of kids, joins in, “It’s alright. Happens a lot more than you would think.” He winks at your daughter, “This princess has a way of wrapping everyone around her finger so I can see the confusion.”

Max and Charles immerse themselves in the Disneyland experience, fully embracing their roles as makeshift royalty. They take pictures, go on rides, and even join your daughter for a tea party at Cinderella’s Royal Table.

While leaving, a staff member waves, “Goodbye, Prince Charming!”

Charles raises an eyebrow, “Which one?”

Max smirks, “Clearly, they meant me.”

Your daughter grins cheekily. “Both Princes. My Princes.”

Mick and Lance: Horsing Around

“Why is she covered in hay?” Lance looks down at your giggling daughter who has a spot of dirt on her nose and straw in her hair.

Mick picks her up, attempting to brush it off without much success. “Because someone wanted to roll around with the bunnies.”

She claps her hands together. “Bunny soft! And pony! I want pony!”

A farmer passing by overhears their conversation, a knowing smile on his face. “That's how it starts, you know?” He nods towards Mick and Lance, “My daughter wanted just one pony and now look around you — turned into this whole farm.” He chuckles, looking at your daughter with fondness, “Seems history is repeating with your little one. She’s clearly got her daddies wrapped around her finger already.”

Mick chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “Oh, we’re not her dads. We’re her brothers. Just trying to spoil her a bit while we can.”

The farmer looks slightly surprised but grins, “Ah, my bad! You looked so domestic and I assumed. But a word of advice from someone who’s been through it … those little eyes? They’ll have a whole farm following you home if you’re not careful."

Lance nods in agreement, “She gets her charm from our mom.”

Your daughter, however, is undeterred. “Pony! Please, please, pony!”

Lance tries to be stern, “I don’t think Mom and Dad will let us get a pony.”

But her big eyes and pout should be illegal.

They cave instantly. “Okay, okay! We’ll see what we can do,” Mick promises.

As they head home, Mick turns to Lance, “You realize we can’t actually get her a pony, right?”

But Lance just smirks. “Watch me.”

***

Later that evening, you’re sipping tea when a rather unexpected sound catches your attention.

Neighhh.

You rush to the window, eyes widening at the sight in front of you.

Lance meets your eyes sheepishly, “So ... we might’ve made a tiny impulsive decision ...”

Mick is holding a bedazzled harness belonging to the animal in question, “Tiny? It’s not exactly a chihuahua.”

Your daughter rushes to you, grinning from ear to ear. “Look, Mommy! Pony!”

You sigh deeply, “I leave you two in charge for a few hours and apparently we now own a pony?”

Mick shrugs, “It seemed like a good idea at the time?”

Lance adds, “We just couldn’t say no to her!”

You laugh, pulling them both into a hug with your daughter sandwiched between. “You boys are impossible. When did you become such softies?”

“Just following in your footsteps,” Mick smirks. “You know, spoiling the ones we love."

Lance nods, “Guess it runs in the family.”

Lando and George: Busy Bees

“Is she ready?” Lando asks while leaning over to check his face paint in the mirror.

George adjusts his fake antennae headband. “I still can’t believe you convinced me to wear this.”

Your daughter runs in from behind them, flapping her tiny bee wings with a big smile on her face. “Bzzz! Bzzz!”

Lando laughs, “Look at you, the cutest little bee in the hive!”

He then whispers to George, “At least we match.”

George groans, “Yeah but did we really have to be flowers? It’s bad enough that she’s got me trick-or-treating for the first time in twenty years.”

As they set out, the trio attracts many admiring glances, especially when your daughter toddles up to houses, holding out her little bucket and adorably attempting a “Trick or treat!”

At one house, an older lady opens the door, gasping with delight. “Oh my! What a beautiful little family! You and your husband have done such a wonderful job. Your daughter’s costume is simply adorable!”

George’s cheeks flush under his floral face paint, “Oh, uh, we’re not a couple. We’re her brothers!”

Lando waves his hands, “Yeah! No couple here, just brothers. He’s too annoying to date anyway.”

The lady looks slightly taken aback but quickly recovers. “Oh, my apologies! It’s just so rare to see two young dads out and about. Anyways, here you go, little bumblebee.” She drops a handful of candy into your daughter’s bucket.

The night continues with more misidentifications, George and Lando taking it in stride but also bickering about who gives off more of a dad vibe.

George pokes Lando, “I told you, dressing as matching flowers makes it look like we’re together.”

Lando rolls his eyes, “You’re just embarrassed because Mrs. Thompson from three houses down thought we were a couple.”

George grins, “Well, maybe if someone didn’t m insist on holding my hand to guide me ...”

Lando splutters, “That was to stop you from tripping over a pumpkin in the dark! Besides, look, she’s having the time of her life.”

Your daughter just continues her “bzzing,” happily collecting candies and compliments.

When they return home, a mountain of treats in tow, your daughter shows off her loot with pride.

Sebastian greets them at the door, laughing as he sees their costumes. “Looking good there!”

George mumbles, “At least we’re on brand.”

Lando grins, “Exactly! Team Bee for the win!”

Your daughter, energy not even slightly dimmed, runs up and hugs Sebastian, “Daddy! Bzzz!”

Sebastian chuckles, “My little bee. Did you have fun with your brothers?”

She nods vigorously, “Bzzz!”

You shake your head in amusement. “Alright, my buzzing bee, time for bed. And you two,” you point at George and Lando, “thanks for being such good sports. Even if you did look ridiculous.”

George and Lando are already on their way to raid your vanity for makeup wipes. “Anything for our little bee,” Lando says with a wink.

The Parents and the “Parents”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, “So, Y/N, Seb ... you won’t believe how many times Max and I have been mistaken for a couple when we’re out and about.”

“Yeah,” Max chimes in, “apparently we give off strong young dads in love vibes.”

Lance sighs dramatically, “Don’t even get me started! Mick and I took her to the park a few days ago and this lady actually asked how long we’ve been married and when we adopted her.”

Mick nods, “She even recommended a couples’ yoga class for us. Said it helped her and her wife reconnect for personal time during parenthood.”

Lando, trying to stifle a giggle, pipes up, “George and I were given a book called The Ultimate Guide for Gay Dads by our new neighbor. She said it really helped her son and his husband.”

George gestures wildly, “We even got invited to the local dads’ weekly barbecue. I think we’re honorary members now.”

You burst out laughing, “Oh my god, I can’t breathe! This is priceless.”

Sebastian chuckles, “I think it’s sweet that our daughter has so many loving dads. We’re setting a new norm here.”

Max grins, “I always knew I had a paternal side.”

Charles nudges him, “More like you just can’t bring yourself to say no to her.”

Lance admits, “That’s true. Is this a good time to apologize for the pony in your backyard again?”

Everyone turns to look at Mick, who shrugs, “She has the best puppy eyes, okay?”

“It’s a gift really,” George agrees. “I tried to do the same face to Lando to get the last slice of pizza but all he did was laugh at me.”

Lando retorts, “That’s because your puppy eyes looked more like you were constipated.”

Suddenly, the laughter is interrupted by a small voice. Your daughter toddles into the room, holding a toy race car in one hand and a doll in the other. “Why do you all have funny faces?” She asks, her innocent eyes widening.

Sebastian picks her up and sits her on his knee, “Well, little racer, we were just talking about how sometimes people think that your brothers are your dads.”

She scrunches her face in confusion, “But that’s silly! They’re still your babies too. How can they be dads?”

You laugh, “You’re absolutely right, sweetheart. They definitely still act like children sometimes.”

The six indignant whines of “we do not” you get in return don’t really do much to help their case.

But you love your kids anyway. All seven of them.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Video III

Meadema x Baby!Reader

Summary: You're the doctor today

"Well, look at you," Viv says with a small smile as you shuffle into the room," Doctor Meadema."

You giggle as you shuffle closer. The white lab coat you're wearing is massive and Viv wonders briefly where Beth has gotten it from. A similarly massive stethoscope hangs around your neck as you finally make your way over to the sofa.

"Doctor!" You repeat with a giggle, poking at the stethoscope before turning around to point at Beth," Mummy!"

"That's right," Viv says," That is Mummy."

You point at Viv. "Mama!"

"I am Mama. Well done and you're Munchkin!"

You nod and Viv hoists you up to sit next to her.

She's stretched out on the sofa, icing her knee from a long day of rehab and you wiggle happily next to her to get comfortable.

You press the stethoscope against her arm and she laughs.

"That's for a heartbeat, silly. Here." Viv adjusts it so it's just over her heart before helping you put the rest of it in your ears so you can listen. "That's my heart beating."

You frown and Viv moves it on top of your heart too.

"And that's your heart beating."

"Heart beating," You repeat," Heart beating!"

"Yeah, that's to show that we're alive. Because our hearts are beating."

You look a little confused briefly before breaking out into giggles when Viv tickles your tummy.

"Alright," Beth says to the door," I'm going out to walk Myle. Munchkin, you want to come?"

You look over at Beth when she speaks. Myle's by her feet, tail wagging happily. She whines a little as Beth delays putting on her harness.

Usually, you go with Mummy and Myle but today you're being a doctor and doctors don't abandon their patients. Mama is your patient today so you'll stay with her.

"With Mama," You say to Mummy who just smiles.

"You have fun with Mama," She tells you before finally securing Myle's harness," Viv, be good for the doctor!"

The front door shuts just as Mama throws a cushion at her.

You look up at Mama and Mama looks down at you. She smiles.

"Your Mummy is very silly sometimes."

Mama's right. Mummy is very silly but Mummy isn't here right now and you need to focus on Mama now.

Her knee is still hurt like it was when you first came home to them. Mummy's knee has gotten better but Mama's is being a bit mean to her.

That's why you're her doctor today in your big coat and your first aid kit.

You clamber over Mama's body to make it to where she's icing her knee.

"Careful, Munchkin," Viv says to you," My knee hurts."

"Kay," You chirp.

Mama said that the stethoscope is for listening to heartbeats but you wonder if you can also use it to listen to Mama's knee. Maybe there are mean little men in Mama's knee making it stay mean to her.

Mummy always says there's mean little men in your nose that keeps it stuffy when you're sick so you think they must be in Mama's knee too.

You press the stethoscope against Viv's bare knee and she jumps a little at the sudden contact.

"Mama," You say," Mean men in knee still mean."

"Oh, yeah?" Viv says," That's not very nice of them. Do you have any treatments, doctor?"

You think for a moment before nodding.

"Uh-huh!"

When you came in with your lab coat and stethoscope, you were also holding a little first aid kit.

Beth had bought it for you when you expressed an interest in one after hanging out with the medics at practice one day. You took it almost everywhere with you.

"Mama!" You cry out," Zip please!"

You take it everywhere with you but you're yet to learn how to actually undo a zip.

Viv smiles fondly, unzipping the little pack so you can rummage through it.

You throw the things you don't want out and Viv has to stifle her laughter, knowing that she's going to be the one picking it all up later.

"Found them!"

Your puppy plasters are your absolute favourite because you think they look like Myle and Myle's amazing. They're special and they're for your boo-boos only.

But you don't mind sharing with Mama.

You rip a handful of plasters open and clumsily place them on Mama's knee.

"What are those for, Munchkin?"

"Doctor," You correct.

Oh, sorry. What are those for, doctor?"

"Fight the mean men," You tell her.

"Well, I hope they do a good job," Viv tells you," But I'd feel better if I got cuddles too."

You hurry to flop onto Mama's chest, where you stay until Mummy and Myle come home.

"Doctor Munchkin's fixing my knee," Viv says as Beth inspects the array of puppy plasters on her knee.

"Oh, wow," Beth says," I'll have to get Doctor Munchkin to fix me up later too. Is that alright for you, doctor?"

You nod. "After Mama cuddles."

[darby-rowe]

cw slight fauxcest

“i’m so happy to see you getting out of your room more often,” your dad praises, one beer in hand with the other hand on your shoulder. he’s looking at you with such a genuine smile, eyes crinkled nearly shut. the crows’ feet showing signs your dad is beginning to age gracefully.

it was weird to be outside showing so much skin. well, to you it was so much skin. the humid, summer nights in august weren’t kind to you, when all you want is to wear crewnecks and mens’ jeans. you opted in for a baggy short-sleeved shirt and jean shorts. a basic outfit. but it kept you cool during the humidity of the evening.

“been havin’ fun with logan?” your dad asks. he has clearly noticed the two of you have been going out more often in the recent weeks. ice cream shops, the mall, the park. he even took you to bass pro shop last saturday, just to end up looking at the fish tank then leaving.

you nod. “yeah, he’s cool,” you answer. “he’s funny, too. makes me laugh a lot.”

“he sure is fuckin’ hilarious,” your dad says, sipping his beer bottle. he swallows hard. “i would even go as far as to say he could be your new uncle,”

you don’t mean to wear your emotions on your face, but your eyes widen and your face heats up to the same temperature as the surface of the sun. “uncle?” you repeat, trying to laugh it off as best as you can.

“sure, why not?” your dad shrugs, calling over the older man to you two. your gut immediately flips upside down as his scent comes at you like a raging storm, filling your nose and brain with pine, tobacco, alcohol, and general manly musk. “what say you, uncle logan?”

logan laughs, his head tipping back slightly. “i’m the uncle now?” he lands a light, friendly punch to your dad’s shoulder. “i’ve always said you been like a brother to me,”

“feeling’s mutual, brother,” your dad says.

your hands subconsciously go to fold themselves in front of you as you feel logan’s eyes go down to your freshly-shaven legs. and what he says next will forever be burned in your brain.

“well why don’t you c’mere and give your uncle a big, strong hug, hey bub?”

[jjenthusee]

Racing Hearts

f1!driver!Jason x reporter!Reader

A/N: i know i said that i felt like writing a toxic f1!driver!Jason, but my mind always reverts back to fluff and hurt/comfort. i can’t help it. :( So ENJOY <3 comment if your comfortable, let me know your thoughts, and please check out the art that inspired this fic (F1 Driver, F1 Driver Pt.2 and F1 Driver Pt.3) i’m proud of how everything came together \(^~^)/ ALSO I SEE THOSE OF U WHO SPAM LIKE, REBLOG, OR COMMENT ON ALL MY WRITING (I LOVE ALL OF YOU) it makes me geek out fr

The story will continue! Here is pt. 2 HEHEHE

Tags: banter, agonizing fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends to lovers, sudden roy harper appearance???,

Word Count: 3.7k

The lights were bright, rapid flashes brightening every angle of Jason’s face as he stood in front of multiple cameras.

His sweat pricking his forehead and running down the sides of his face, shimmering from the light, making him even more attractive as he finally felt the sun on his skin after a race.

His racing helmet clasped in his hand, towel in the other, dabbing at the sides of his neck. His hair perfectly messy from his win.

Fans screaming his name, reporters trying to get his attention. A man finally stopping him in his tracks, shoving a microphone closer to him, surpassing those who were also trying to talk to the star in question.

“Jason, we have seen your name repeatedly throughout racing legacies, what’s the secret to having such a great career?”

Jason continued to walk again, waving at fans, effortlessly pleasing the crowd one look at a time. The reporters and photographers following him like pigeons flocking to food on the ground. Shouting to repeat his name.

After dabbing his towel to his face, he turned back to look at the interviewer. A sparkle in his eyes.

“You’re lookin’ at him. What else do I need?” Jason smugly smiled, briefly making eye contact with the interviewer as he spoke, the interviewer’s face slightly reddening. Giving his classic swoon worthy smirk, fans erupting behind him trying to get a glimpse.

Just another day as one of the world’s best racer.

——

Jason had arrived late, his ball cap worn nicely on his head, his classic Red Bull uniform snug around his fit physique.

Bright lights burned down on him, giving the cameras the best lighting. Jason’s flaws were being watched like a hawk, ready to be shown, but he confidently walked to the microphones.

He let out his signature smile, a quick wink to the nearest interviewer, tapping the microphone in front of him.

Repeated thump thumps echoed through the speakers as he sat down, his management team not far off the stage as he took one of the two seats. The other driver no where in sight, his bright orange hair nonexistent next to Jason. The iconic duo not yet together.

Multiple hands raised, ready to ask Jason any big questions they had been saving for the past twenty minutes until one of the two men decided to join. The press conference should have started once his companion arrived, but journalists weren’t patient people.

“Mr. Todd! How does it feel to add another win to your belt and beat your own record?” A bright young man asked from the crowd, his glasses bouncing off his nose.

Jason laughed, pride taking up the entire room.

“I didn’t know there was any other option.” Jason leaned into the mic, giving a show of his arms crossed, muscles on the table in front of him.

You could practically hear the fans screaming through the camera as you sat a couple rows from the racer. You were surprised his ego didn’t push you off your seat when he arrived.

“Jason! There is talk that your contract is near its end and you are possibly thinking about changing teams, what are your thoughts?” A blonde woman asked two rows in front of you.

“I always think of my fans first, I want to carefully consider everything when I make that decision. Plus, I can’t deny how good I look in black.” Jason teasingly tilted his head.

A quiet scoff left your mouth.

It was now or never, you didn’t know how loud the room was going to get once the second racer arrived.

You raised your hand, standing up to talk face to face to Formula 1’s hottest driver, Jason Todd.

Well…face to face was pushing it, there were other reporters also trying to get their chance with the ever bright star.

But a press conference was a press conference, if you don’t make yourself known, you don’t get to ask any questions.

Once Jason’s focus landed on your standing form, he nodded at you, giving you permission to speak.

Returning the courtesy, you nodded your head.

“Gotham’s greatest has returned.” You smiled, notebook in hand, voice even.

“Please, no need for an introduction.” Jason chuckled, interrupting your sentence as the rest of the crowd laughed with him.

Charmer. You thought.

Patience has always been your virtue, too many people tested you in your line of work, but you could handle someone as spontaneous as Jason Todd.

“Not only do you have the skill, you have the money, and the team to back you up. You are engineered for success.” You explained.

Jason chuckled, charming smile broadening at the compliments.

“You have such a nice way with words.” He relayed through the microphone, projecting his husky voice throughout the room, gaining another laugh from the crowd.

“But your Chief Technical Officer is leaving this season, digging a huge hole in your team. His legacy changed the engineering of your vehicle because he introduced you to your legendary car. Putting you and your other driver, Roy Harper, in a position of possibly seeing your racing careers coming to an end as your CTO retires.”

“You do have a way with words.” Jason repeated, irritation pricking at his skin, but keeping that picture perfect smile for the camera. You smiled again, a tiny bit wider at his strain.

“In other words, your fans are wondering, if your car can’t be at it’s top shape, there’s only so much skill you can perfect before technology surpasses you and you can only see the rear wing of all your opponents.”

Ouch. Jason thought, smiling through your verbal jabs, but none of the amusement reflected in his eyes as he stared at you.

“What did you say your name was?” Jason sat up straighter, his tone lowering. He was used to mindlessly giving eye contact, giving that mind numbing attention that most people on the internet fawned over.

This time it was different, he focused in on the reporter standing not far from his seat, never lowering their eyes from him.

You smiled, slow and calm, basking in causing the change in the flirtatious F1 driver.

Now you had his attention.

“All legacies come to an end, Mr. Todd.” You continued, never answering his question. “Now that your CTO Elainey Usoro is confirmed to leave, will we be able to witness your legacy end in the upcoming season?”

“Aren’t you jumping the gun? Of course my name will continue to be recognized.” Jason scoffed.

“But will it be recognized as the star that lost its fame?” You nudged again.

Jason’s face went neutral, observing you. You stared back, not wavering in your eye contact, a calm diligence.

A tension blanketed the conference room.

Roy threw his arm around Jason’s shoulders in a friendly manner, leaning against his driving buddy as he also threw a flirtatious smile. His laid back demeanor cut up the tension filling the room, the reporters getting oddly quiet at the sudden back and forth of you and Jason, but saved by the second driver’s arrival.

Roy was as fashionably late as usual, throwing a kiss towards the management team on the side lines. His iconic bright hair covered in a backwards ball cap.

They erupted his name around you, as you stood above the crowd.

Roy waved his hand, playfully mimicking a royal princess addressing his loyal subjects as he kept his arm on Jason.

Despite the noise around you, Jason kept his look at you.

Once Roy was done getting in his crowd pleasing, he spoke.

“Sweetheart, just ‘cause Usoro is leaving doesn’t mean we get cars tossed in from the dump. The position will just be empty until the next season begins. I can promise you we aren’t taking off our uniforms any time soon. I look too good with the words ‘Red Bull’ across my abs.” Roy cheekily grinned, toothpick in between his teeth.

Roy Harper. You thought.

One coquettish athlete was one thing, but two had the potential to test you.

“I hope to see those results, Mr. Harper.” You calmly smiled. You glanced back to Jason. “Thank you for answering my questions, Mr. Todd.”

You sat back in your chair, your badge displaying your name and company around your neck. The symbol recognizable to Jason, but he had reset to his usual coy responses before he did anything about it.

And the press conference continued as usual, the fans loving Jason, interviewers taken with him. They tried to trip him up like you had, but no one had pricked him as much as you did.

——

The chair you sat in was uncomfortable.

Luxurious restaurants had the weirdest looking furniture, twisted in odd shapes to make it more appealing to the rich.

The mood lighting set low to create a kind of intimacy most fancy restaurants aimed for.

Jason sat across from you, waiting on his dinner for the night.

“Thank you for meeting me today, Mr. Todd. The place you chose is…quaint.” You eyed the indoor waterfall and the huge chandelier.

“You should have ordered something, this place is known for its seafood.” Jason smiled, crossing his arms across his chest.

A much too expensive watch on his wrist, in too expensive clothes, in a too expensive restaurant.

Your outfit was formal, you thought it fit the atmosphere of the restaurant and you were only here for business. The contrast of the two of you looked like a boss and his employee from afar. Awkward and not on the same level of pay.

The salary of Formula 1 drivers would make any person look plain next to them.

“I shouldn’t because we’re here to discuss about you.” You plainly said, posture straight.

Jason stared at you, the shadows on his face chiseling out his features more than usual. Casually leaning into his chair.

“So, tell me, Mr. Todd—“ You formally started.

“Call me Jason.” He leaned his arms on the table, more of his face coming into the light, his wrist watch glistening in the warm light.

He probably has his own personal jeweler that shines his watch everyday. You judged internally, your left eyebrow raising. A nonverbal “really?” unconsciously stemming onto your face.

Jason’s smile growing wider at your reaction.

“Well…Jason,” You awkwardly corrected, face going back to neutral. “Our interaction last week has gained…interest. I’ve been told that your management is interested in us discussing another interview, just the two of us?” You picked up your glass of water, gently sipping.

Jason was weirdly silent, watching intently at your moves and words.

“Tell me about yourself.” You continued, gently laying your cup on the glass table. Placing your notebook next to it and a simple pen. The plain stationary complimenting your equally plain outfit.

“Jason Todd, F1 driver, signed onto Red Bull, haven’t changed since.” Jason’s food arrived. “The podium is practically my home, the stuff everyone knows. You could quickly Google all of that.”

You stayed quiet, mindlessly writing his quotes in your notebook. Not much effort put in your handwriting.

“But no one is interested in that.” Jason took a bite, glancing back at you as you stopped writing.

“Why not?”

“Okay, ‘lil reporter, let’s be real for a second. The reason why the internet wanted us to meet again is because of how we interacted.” Jason continued to eat. “You have no interest in me, despite your line of work.”

You put your pen down. Really listening.

“I may not be interested in your career, but I do have a passion in what I do.” You defended yourself, tone firm.

“I’m familiar with your work.” His nonchalance apparent in the way Jason sat. His voice leveled, none of the familiar coquettish attitude in front of you. The real Jason was sitting there.

“You are?” You stammer in confusion. You hadn’t expect his shift in demeanor or that he knew about you.

“Duh, that’s why I tried asking for your name last week, but someone thought it was cute to ignore me.” Jason sipped on his water.

Your mouth formed into a firm line.

You knew that there had to be another person underneath all the on screen charisma, but you didn’t expect to meet him at this dinner that was set up. Hell, you even expected getting cancelled by all his hardcore fans the next morning after the press conference.

“Look, I wasn’t interested because everyone knows you. You rightfully made a name for yourself and I had chosen another athlete to interview that day, but it was scrapped because the ‘great’ Jason Todd, shining beloved driver, had made a comeback after you had flopped for a short while.” You breathed, catching your breath.

Jason stopped eating, watching you look at the notebook on the table, a single sentence written on the blank page.

“Ouch, lil’ reporter.” Jason looked up from his plate, his eyes sparkling at something interesting he’s heard.

“I wanted to interview a woman changing athletics, but I had to drop everything to meet you at a press conference you were twenty minutes late to. So, yeah, I wasn’t overjoyed to meet you that day. I’m sorry if I was rude, you weren’t the one who rejected my story.” You slightly huffed, the most emotion you’ve shown Jason.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Jason enthusiastically put down his fork. “Finally some honesty, I was questioning whether you were a robot.”

“Huh?” You had expected Jason to be mad.

“Bad things happen, but we were told to put this together. So, forget the sports stats, let’s show them something a lil’ different.” Jason smiled, a genuine smile that didn’t look at you any differently after you vented out your frustrations about him.

“Like what? Get to know the real you?” You flatly said. “Sounds kinda cheesy.”

“I love to talk about myself, so why not?” Jason shrugged his shoulders.

You sighed.

“Okay—okay, let’s start with—“

“No, no, no.” Jason interrupted you. “Not here, hell no.”

“You chose this place, I thought this was what you wanted.” You questioned.

“The company chose this, I don’t like seafood.” Jason replied, blankly staring at you.

“What?!” You nearly yelled, self-consciously looking at the other tables, nodding an apology.

Jason laughed, truly laughed.

“Are you free tomorrow?” He asked, smile reaching his eyes.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You replied, lost in the development.

“Great, we’ll meet for dinner.”

——

You ended up outside of what appeared to be local restaurants, packed inside an outdoor lounge area, surrounded by furnished secan containers locking in the structure.

It was beautiful with the hanging string lights illuminating the seating area.

You looked in awe.

“You’re on time.” Jason’s voice rung on top of your head, behind you.

You turned around, surprised at the sudden silent appearance and the casual clothes he was in, no fancy watch, his clothes looked like normal department store ones, and his hair was messily down.

“Ten minutes late? That’s a new record.” You quipped.

“Ha!” Jason laughed. “I almost didn’t recognize you in casual clothes. You almost looked less robotic.”

Jason leaned down to give you a once over like he was evaluating your outfit.

“Quit it, I’m starving and whatever smell is coming from that side is changing my brain chemistry.”

Jason smiled, following behind as you led yourself by your nose.

“Holy shit.” You took a moment after your first bite.

“Woah, the robot cusses. What a scary lil’ reporter.” Jason teasingly shook his head, taking a bite after his teasing. “Holy fuck.”

“Right?!” You smiled, eyes squinting at your cheeks lifting.

Jason, lost in the food, chewed, taking in all the flavors.

“I could die in this moment and ask the paramedics to pass on my final wish, to thank the owner of the food truck over there.” You sipped your beer.

Jason stopped eating, pausing to look at you.

“What?” You questioned his stare.

“You actually have emotions.” Jason kept his face blank.

“Shut up, I would throw this at you if it didn’t change my taste buds.” You frowned.

Jason laughed. His shoulders shaking from the movement.

You noticed his smile was different. He had actual smile lines on his face, his eyebrows grew softer. It wasn’t the usual look he gave after his races.

“Is this what the incredible Jason Todd does when he isn’t wearing his Red Bull uniform?” You tried to casually prod into his life.

“How smooth,” Jason whistled, catching onto your nosiness. “I came here a lot with my brothers.”

“Wow, Wayne family lore.” You kept your eyes on your food, trying to deter the atmosphere away from the sad tone coming from Jason.

“Not the best history there.” Jason quietly spoke, picking at his food.

“A rich boy with family issues, I would have never guessed.” You smiled at him, playfully punching his shoulder. “I might be a reporter, but I respect boundaries. I don’t like the work of others that invade privacy for selfish reasons, bombard children of celebrities, and other awful reasons. So, trauma dump or not.” You smirked.

“Wow, lil’ reporter is all grown up.” Jason dramatically wiped the corner of his eye, wiping nonexistent tears.

“Never mind, I already know the title of the article.” You flatly said. “Rich, charismatic—“

“Aren’t you a charmer—“

“Pain in the ass, reckless, thorn in my side—“ You continued.

“Okay, alright, that’s enough, I get it.” Jason smiled, despite the harsh words.

You raised your left eyebrow, not fully convinced.

Jason used his thumb to rub your eyebrow back to its normal spot, you closed your eyes, moving your head away from his playful harsh rubs.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get there.” Jason reassured. “You’ll get my all my issues, the one time I was mugged, the reason why I don’t drink, and all my kinks.”

“What?!” You shrieked, Jason laughing at your reaction.

“I’m kidding, I was never mugged.”

You threw your dirty napkin at Jason.

——

After the fulfilling dinner, you got Jason’s number, set another date for a lunch, and you were happy.

It had been a while since you had time to enjoy a meal, no work blurring into your off time.

You could never admit to Jason that these meals felt like dinners with friends, not work at all.

Jason had suggested that you choose a spot. You decided on ice cream, not a lunch spot or a decent meal to talk over, but he didn’t complain.

You sent a location to him for a spot near the harbor.

You met each other, the weather getting colder after the F1 season was over and the new norm of adding a jacket to your daily clothing.

It felt idiotic to get ice cream in cold weather, but it was too late to change now.

Jason came five minutes late this time.

“You’re getting better!” You yelled between your cold hands. “Almost brought a smile to my face!”

You fought a smile as you saw Jason jog to your waiting spot.

“I couldn’t let my lil’ reporter wait too long in this cold weather.” Jason’s breaths fogged around him as he caught his breath. Teasing your cheeks into a slight blush, but maybe that was the cold weather.

You put your hands back into your pockets, trying to keep any warmth in them.

“Let’s go, before the ice cream melts.” You joked, walking away from Jason.

“Why ice cream?” He questioned, catching up to your side.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “Don’t you get those cravings for hot chocolate in summer and ice cream in winter?”

“No, only robots think that.” Jason smiled.

You swung to punch his shoulder. Jason didn’t even bother dodging, taking the hit with the biggest grin on his face.

“I’m glad this isn’t a live interview again because if I wasn’t cancelled for giving attitude to you at the press conference, then your fangirls and boys would berate me after this.” You spoke, ears red.

“They wouldn’t do that. They just love trying to get me in as many love scandals as possible.” Jason rubbed the edge of your ear with his fingers, they felt warm to the touch. “Been a running joke for a while. Last week they thought I was dating a valet guy and previously they thought it was a some lady at the auto shop.”

“Does that explain the edits of you with some taco stand guy?” You smirked.

“Aw, you looked me up.” Jason cooed.

“Alright, that’s enough.” You laughed as you walked into the ice cream parlor. The two of you walking in and a pair of teenagers sat alone in the shop.

“One scoop of strawberry please.” You asked the teen worker, you looked at Jason, silently asking for his order.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? Do I get the pleasure of you treating me to ice cream?” He teased.

“Just order.” You told him, feigning frustration.

“Banana split please.” Jason excitedly told the worker.

“Wow, really taking advantage of me.” You pulled out your card.

Jason pulled out a twenty dollar bill from his wallet, placing it in the tip jar.

You smiled to yourself.

As you sat with your sweet treats, Jason was devouring the ice cream.

“Y’know, now I get why you get this craving.” Jason scooped another bite in his mouth.

“No more robot talk from now on.” You eyed him.

“Sorry about that. I just wanted you to act like yourself. You look better like that.” Jason mindlessly played with the left over ice cream at the bottom of his plastic tray, a small smile forming on his face. “People getting angry at me turns me on.” Jason smirked, his coquettish personality coming back, but it didn’t annoy you as much as it did before.

You choked on your ice cream, the realization to his words in your eyes. You looked back at the other teenagers in the shop, they were in their own world, not paying attention to you.

“Relax, they don’t care about us.” Jason laughed.

You glanced back at him, weighing the thoughts on your next words.

“I bet my praise would be more effective.” You scooped your last bit of ice cream, finishing it.

Jason’s laughed boomed in front of you. He was smiling like a little kid, it lightened your heart.

“I never know what comes out of that pretty mouth.” He couldn’t stop laughing.

Your ears reddened at his words.

You nervously played with your spoon.

Words. Yes, they were just words. No need to overreact.

“Wanna walk by the harbor? I think I need to walk off all this sugar.” You asked Jason, getting up to throw away your empty cup.

The air outside was freezing, but your ears burned.

[mrshesh]

"for... me?" - modern warfare 2 x reader

overview: mw2 men reacting to you giving them a friendship bracelet

pairing: mw2 men x gender neutral reader, romantic & platonic

genre: fluff

a/n: my first mw2 headcanons... i'm nervous about this. i will be eternally grateful if you leave your thoughts and criticisms in the comments, reblogs, or in messages. with that being said; enjoy.

x simon "ghost" riley

Simon is a sweet guy deep down. He appreciates you deeply, and he’d never hurt you intentionally, so you don’t know why you’re so nervous as you’re standing outside his door, your hands concealed behind your back as if you’re hiding an illegal drug. 

When you hesitantly open the door to his room, you get greeted by Simon’s cold gaze, which immediately softens when he sees you. 

He quickly sees the worry on your face, making his heart ache against his will. He cares about you so much. His mind always races when he sees you upset, his fight or flight response kicks in when you’re hurt, and his face always heats up when you’re smiling. You know this - yet you’re so nervous. 

He stands up from his bed, reaching you to open the door further as you step back. He grimaces at the sight of you being so distressed - what could you possibly have done to be so concerned? 

“What’s wrong?” He immediately asks, his eyebrows furrowing when he sees the small droplets of sweat on your forehead. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Simon. You always assume the worst of me.” You roll your eyes jokingly, feeling calmer when he pinches his nose bridge in annoyance. It’s such a Simon thing to do, instantly making you giggle. 

“Well, you’re sweating like a fuckin’ madman. What’s wrong?” He repeats his question, waiting for your response to determine his approach. He is so tense, worried that you have gotten yourself into something. (Although he would never admit that.)

“Give me your wrist.” You say after you take a deep breath, making his eyes narrow in confusion. Still, he extends his arm for you, his other hand resting comfortably on his hip as he observes your every move. 

When you reveal your masterpieces, his gaze goes from suspicious to surprised in a heartbeat, his lips slightly parting behind his mask. 

You’re holding a friendship bracelet - a black, gray, and white candy-striped yarn bracelet in your hands. Simon quickly takes notice of the bracelet on your wrist because it is identical to the one on your shaky palms. His brown eyes turn to yours, and you swear you can see a faint smile on his face. 

“I’m assuming that one’s for me, yeah?” He chuckles, taking the bracelet from your hands to look closer at it. It sure is beautiful - it has some imperfections, which only makes it more precious in his eyes. 

He puts it on calmly, twisting his wrist to look at it again when it’s on. His gaze turns to you, one of his eyebrows cocking up at your horrified expression. 

“You are that fucking nervous over a bracelet?” He chuckles, his hand finding your head on instinct, patting you gently. “I like it, so you can stop shitting yourself, love.” 

He secretly loves it. 

When Soap notices that you and Simon are matching, his heart swells up with pride, but he tries to hide the ego boost he got. He feels special, knowing that he is the one matching with you.

He’s experienced so much loss in his life, but he promises himself that he will never lose you nor that bracelet the second you give it to him.

He wouldn’t match bracelets with anybody else.

x john "soap" mactavish

Johnny has suggested getting matching jewelry before! He’s big on showing you how much he cares about you, and he thinks it would be a perfect way to show his appreciation for you. 

So you know that he’s going to be ecstatic when you show him that you’ve not only gotten matching jewelry for the two of you, but you’ve made it yourself! 

You approach him when he’s sparring, his body covered in sweat and red patches from where he got hit, yet he’s still smiling and running towards you the second he sees you. 

The Scotsman instantly notices that you’re hiding your hands behind your back, which sparks his interest enough to try to look at what you’re covering in them. 

“What’re you hiding, bonnie?” He asks with a laddish grin, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. He can’t help but snicker when you smile at his curiosity, a huge weight seemingly lifting off your shoulders. 

“Can I see your wrist?” “My wrist?” He quickly repeats, seeming a bit dumbfounded. Still, he complies, extending his arm for you to grab while his breathing slows down. 

You don’t waste any time, immediately tying his baby blue, royal blue, and navy Chevron bracelet on for him. 

He initially looks baffled until he realizes you’re wearing an identical bracelet on your wrist. 

Johnny’s face lights up, bringing his wrist closer to his face to inspect the carefully made bracelet, the different colors of yarn complimenting each other perfectly. 

“Do you like it?” “I love it!” He quickly exclaims before he picks you up, hugging you close to him as he spins you around, erupting a hearty laugh from you. 

“I’m never taking this off, m’eudail.” 

And he’s telling the truth! 

You will never catch that man without that bracelet on his wrist. 

He shows it off to everybody, forcing you to hold your wrist next to his for proof. 😭

If anybody accidentally tugs at it or touches it without permission, he will yell at them. His go-to phrase is: "Hands off, eejit." He's just so dreamy. 😍😭

x kyle "gaz" garrick

Kyle is a sucker for you. He loves it when you think of him, take the initiative to be with him, and do thoughtful things for him - you’re pretty much his favorite person, so he adores it when you do anything nice for his sake. 

So you know he will never turn down matching friendship bracelets! 

You are playing UNO with Kyle when you finally get the courage to show him the bracelets you’ve made for the two of you. He noticed that your mind was somewhere else the second you two started talking, and his suspicions got confirmed when you eventually put all of your cards down, looking into Kyle’s eyes like you were guilty of a war crime. 

“Can I give you something?” You ask, clearing your throat and smiling nervously at him. “Yeah, why not?” He nods in agreement, putting his cards aside to see what has gotten you so worked up. He hates seeing you so tense, but he can’t deny that it’s sparking his interest. 

“Let me see your wrist.” You extend your hand, signaling him to place his wrist on your palm. 

“Alright.” He utters, placing his wrist on your hand, his eyes alternating between looking at your face and his arm. (I just know his face looks like this 🤨)

His judgemental look soon gets replaced with a look of pure adoration the second he sees the ocean wave bracelet you tied on his wrist, his cheeks feeling like they’re on fire. 

“You made these?” He asks after a comfortable silence, his heart throbbing at the thought of you sitting and weaving that yarn between your fingers for hours to create this for him. “Yeah. Do you like them?” 

“I love them. You might have to teach me how to make these.” 

After that, he quickly grabs his cards again, insisting on finishing the UNO game...

But this time, it’s him whose mind is somewhere else. 

He shows it to Price the second the game is over. 

Every time he sees you, he goes, “Nice bracelet.” as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

He has picked up the habit of checking his wrist regularly to see if the bracelet is still there.

x john price

John is a strict sweetheart. You know deep down his intentions are pure, but sometimes you think his mouth could use some soap. His words and criticisms are not for the faint-hearted, sometimes hitting you deeper than any bullet ever could, which is why you are terrified to give him the bracelet you’ve made for him. 

You don’t want him to think your gift is superficial since you put a lot of thought and care into making them. You can understand why your tribute may seem cursory, but you hope John won’t think your hard work is shallow. 

Still, you take a deep breath and knock on his office door, squeezing the matching bracelets in your balled-up fist as your anxiety levels catapult. 

“Come in.” John gives you the green light to enter, which you do hesitantly, clearly looking worried. 

John immediately readies himself for the worst when he sees you sit down on the chair in front of his desk, reading your expression like a book. Why do you look so anxious? 

“What’s wrong?” He sighs, contemplating what approach he should take to speak to you. What you say next, however, he does not expect. 

“I have a gift for you.” You give him a nervous smile, only to be met by silence. You’re waiting for him to say something, your heartbeat’s pace increasing. You don’t feel like being a victim of his harsh words today. 

“A gift?” His curious look gives you the courage to place the bracelets on his desk, letting him look at them for as long as he needs. He takes the bigger one, bringing it closer to his face, getting a better look. The bracelet has a zig-zag pattern, the yarn being different shades of purple. It has some design errors here and there, but that only makes it all the more human. 

“Did you make these?” He puts it on, looking at it closely as it perfectly fits his wrist. You grab your bracelet, quickly sliding it on before you nod, your skin glistening in sweat. 

“Very impressive, soldier. I like it.” He smiles, making you exhale in relief. He likes it. Sweet. 

“Why purple, if I may ask?” “Thought I’d bring some color into your boring life.” “...” 

He loves it. He always laughs when he remembers your look of terror when you gave him the bracelet. 

He discreetly shows it off and then acts surprised when somebody points it out. 

He takes it off when he has missions. He doesn’t want it to wear out too quickly and encourages you to do the same.

And no, he doesn’t find it superficial at all. <3

x alejandro vargas

Alejandro has a huge soft spot for you. He’s very open with that fact, so you aren’t too nervous when you present him with the matching bracelets you’ve made for the two of you, but you still feel slightly worried. What if he simply dislikes them?

When you get assigned a mission with Alejandro, you don’t wait! You bring your bracelets with you, keeping them safe and hidden in your pocket until you finally see him again. 

He’s the first to walk up to you, kissing the back of your hand to exchange greetings. “It’s nice to see you again, cariño.” He greets, his eyebrow cocking up upon noticing how jittery you are. 

“I have something for you.” You tilt your head to the side, looking pleased with yourself. “Really? What have you got for me, corazón?” He can feel his excitement reach the roof. His aura radiates curiosity, making you feel more self-assured and breezy. 

Your hand reaches into your pocket, taking hold of both the bracelets inside. 

Your confidence skyrockets when you notice his expression change, his heart’s speed increasing when he sees the sage green spiral staircase bracelets in your hand. 

“I made these for us. Cute, right?” You smirk when he takes them from your hand, looking at them with such intensity your worry almost spikes up again. 

“They’re beautiful, amor.” He says when he finally looks up at you with a grin, his whole body feeling warmer in flattery. His change of expression and body language makes all your worries about this seem insignificant. You can tell that he loves them. 

He insists on tying yours on for you. He won’t take no for an answer. 

He stares at them for a few minutes when they’re on, feeling his ego skyrocket. 

He shows it off to everyone, to the point where Rudy’s getting sick of him. 💀

He has never loved an object more than that bracelet. 

If you gift him another one, he will 100% wife you up, no joke. 

x könig

König’s a ruthless Colonel. He’s strict and calculated, and he doesn’t let shit slide. But he’s so uncharacteristically soft when he’s around you.

His anxiety-prone heart is so fragile when it comes to you, so whenever he gets confirmation and comfort knowing that you still care about and love him, it only fuels his desire to keep going, to treat you better, and be there for you. 

And a friendship bracelet is an excellent reminder. :) 

You step into the armory, watching König polish his sniper carefully as he softly hums to himself. He only notices you when you knock on the wall next to you, alerting him that you’re present. 

“Hey.” He utters, wiping the lens of his sniper as his blue eyes lock on your frame, his attention shifting to your hands, or lack thereof. You’re hiding them behind your back, endeavoring to conceal something from the Austrian. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yes, everything is fine. I was wondering if I could give you something.” You step closer to König, your mischievous grin leaving him curious, wanting to poke for more information. 

“Sure, what is it?” He cautiously puts his sniper away, his elbows resting on his knees as his eyes find yours. 

“Give me your hand.” You extend one of your hands, clutching his wrist to reveal the bracelets you’ve been keeping out of sight behind your back. König’s eyes widen at the bracelets in your hand, cautiously leaning closer to your hand to get a better look at the yarn armbands. 

His expression softens as his focus shifts to you, making you raise an eyebrow at him wonderingly. “So? What do you think?” “They’re beautiful, liebling! Are they for us?” He asks, not wanting to assume that you’ve made one for him. However, his worries get swept away when you snicker and tie on his bracelet for him, allowing him to get a closer look at it. It’s a five-strand braid, the color palette being very military-esque with different shades of green. It compliments his skin and uniform well, recognizing that you’ve put more care into this than anybody has for him. 

He quickly stands up from his seat, wrapping his arms around your frame like a security blanket, making you melt in his grasp. You can hear his smile in his words, and you know right then and there that you made the right decision in gifting him this. “Thank you. I will cherish it forever and ever.”

He never takes it off. 

He constantly stares at them when you socialize with him. Work-related reasons or not - he can’t keep his eyes off them, a light blush covering his cheeks as he stutters out his words, making him especially grateful for his mask. 

He has gotten into the habit of hugging his wrist while he sleeps, keeping the bracelet close to his body to protect it from harm. 

He kisses it at least once a day. <3

[makeyoumine69]

Hi! I wish you further growth and inspiration!

My choice is pussy eating and sex toys.

Good luck! 💦💦💦

Fever

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: You love going out and having dinner with Patrick, but not when his friends come along, they always make you feel so uncomfortable and insecure. Good thing he has his own ways of reassuring you, right?

— CONTAINS: Smut, established relationship, sex toys, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), Daddy kink, Praise kink, Degradation kink, pet names, a lot of cum, nipple play, choking, biting, slight dacryphilia, humiliation, dirty talk, Patrick being a manipulative dickhead.

— WORDS: 3.2k

— SONG REC: Babydoll x the Perfect Girl 

— A/N: This day finally came, and I finished my first writing challenge, which I started to celebrate my 200 followers! Thank you so much, guys, for standing by my side. I love you and I hope you like it!🖤

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [BWC MASTERLIST] [support]💗

Dorsia, just the mention of the name of that establishment was enough to make Batman frown and clench his jaw in annoyance. Nonetheless, that was the exact place you and him wanted to spend that evening, and when you finally took your seats at the best table in Dorsia, Patrick's face was like a wax statue, it was impossible to read any of his emotions.

Tim, Craig, David and their bimbos couldn’t stop rumbling even for one second and that actually annoyed Bateman, but on the other hand he used it as an opportunity to whisper filthy things right into your ear, taking advantage of the fact that no one else was paying attention due to the ruckus.

“Did my good girl do her homework while I was away?” He nuzzled against your neck, and you fidgeted on your chair uncomfortably, feeling embarrassed. “I can’t wait until we get alone.”

“I bet you do.” You reply shortly, without breaking eye contact with him.

Pleased, Patrick leaned on the chair back, his sly smile speaking for itself. Sneakily, he placed his palm on your knee to play with the hem of your cocktail dress, only to tease you and induce you to try closing your legs. With a muffled gasp, you caught his dexterous hand just at the moment everyone looked at both of you.

"So, Bateman. How was your business trip?" Craig asked with a cheeky grin. "Did you enjoy LA? I hear the chicks there are pretty hot."

The men started laughing together as if they shared the same brain cell, and you used that moment to brush Patrick's palm away, which actually made him a little upset, so he paused and coughed a little.

"McDermott, you can go to LA and see everything with your own eyes!" Patrick scoffed and took a sip of his drink. "I don't want to give any spoilers."

Sighing, you pulled yourself together as you repeated to yourself over and over again that you wouldn't let their childish behavior get under your skin. The girls — models, supposedly — looked at each other in frustration, but neither Bateman nor his colleagues seemed to care.

"God, Bateman! Now I'm intrigued!" McDermott chuckled before lighting his cigarette. 

With a mischievous smirk, Patrick hugged your shoulders when he saw a glimpse of sadness in your beautiful, big eyes, and you couldn't help but smile timidly at David's comment:

"Look at them, just two lovebirds." 

"Oh, shut up," Bateman blurted out jokingly. "Being jealous isn't a good thing." 

Van Patten rolled his eyes at Patrick's remark, but immediately lost interest when the girl next to him leaned down to his neck and whispered something.

"Patrick?" You called his name so softly that it elicited a muffled gasp from his broad chest.

"Yes, dear?" He replied, looking at you lovingly and moving even closer so that you could whisper in his ear.

"When are we going home?"

"Do you want to go?" He 'accidentally' touched your cheek with his perfectly shaped nose, making your heart skip a beat.

"No, I was just asking."

"It's not a problem, honey." Bateman leaned even closer to kiss the area behind your ear. "Besides. I'm starving."

"But we just ate." You almost squealed when he discreetly pinched your thigh under the table, his dark grin sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him.

“You know what I mean, babydoll.” He crooned in a low voice, not giving a fuck about how attentively his coworkers were looking at both of you.

“I–” You wanted to talk back to him, but he suddenly cut you off, standing up and removing the napkin from his knees.

“Gentlemen, sorry, but we have to go.” 

“So soon? What happened, Bateman?” Craig tried to sound sassy, but when he didn’t get any attention, his face went plain.

“Don’t worry, McDermott. We will get back to our conversation one day.” Patrick winked at him and offered you a hand, expecting you to take it. When you did, he pressed a brief kiss on the back of your hand.

Tim whistled at the sight and you ignored him, but you couldn't stop Patrick from shamelessly grabbing your ass as you two were leaving.

“Have fun, Bateman. But don’t make your neighbors call the cops.” Bryce added, making everyone laugh. Frowning, you looked at Patrick, expecting him to say something that would calm his coworkers down.

“I’ll call them if you don’t return those porn videotapes I gave you last week.” Bateman crooned with a cheeky smile and after that, he led you to the exit, so you could only catch a glimpse of Timothy’s blank face before you eventually left Dorsia.

In the taxi you both remained silent. You couldn't help but feel a little offended by the way his colleagues behaved, and the thing you hated the most was that you knew that if you told Patrick about it, he would just shrug it off and say that there was nothing special about it.

"Honey?" Bateman suddenly interrupted your train of thoughts with his playful voice, as if he could read your mind. Sometimes it was even scary how perfectly he could sense your mood.

"You have terrible friends, you know that?" You replied, disregarding his flirtatious tone.

With a cocky chuckle, he wrapped his hand around your shoulder when he saw you crossing your arms defensively over your chest. 

"Well, I know they're not the greatest people..." He paused, wondering what to say to cheer you up.

"And I don't like it when you treat me like I'm one of those stupid bimbos," you finally turned to him and pushed his hand away harshly. "How many times do I have to explain this to you and—"

His tight grip on your throat made you choke for air, and you nearly shrieked at his unexpected roughness.

"I think you've forgotten who's in charge here, little girl." Patrick growled into your ear, and you thanked God that the partition in the taxi was closed. "How many times have I told you I don't like this kind of attitude?"

Closing your eyes, you whimpered from lack of oxygen and tried to say something, but he didn't even give you the chance to do it as he covered your mouth with his greedy one. Bateman reveled in all your muffled, pitiful sounds, kissing you hard while his other hand slipped under your dress to possessively get a handful of your soaked pussy. Damn it! Instead of being scared, you were so fucking aroused and that only made the whole situation worse, because after Patrick let go of you, he sneered in the most arrogant way and brought his long fingers, coated in your flavor, to his lips to taste it.

"Don't ever compare yourself to those bitches," he reminded you, fixing the hem of your dress and gently stroking your leg; his face softened as he let out a disappointed sigh. "After all, I missed you so much, (y/n). And I thought you missed me, too."

"I missed you, I really did!" You panicked a little. Patrick was such a master of manipulation, a few moments ago you had accused him and his friends of having bad manners, and now you felt guilty about making that scene.

"So why did we have this shitty conversation about my colleagues and their whores instead of talking about us?" Patrick replied in a challenging tone, his big palm was still on your knee, but this time you didn't dare to brush it away.

"Because it makes me sad!" You blurted out and looked at him, now staring at the scenery through the taxi window.

"Fine, I won't take you to dinners like these anymore." His annoyed voice echoed in your ears, and you couldn't help but feel your heart breaking at his comment. You lowered your head down and cried, barely audible, but somehow Bateman immediately noticed.

"Are you crying, (y/n)? Seriously?" 

"Patrick, maybe I should go home? I don't feel well and I don't want to disappoint you with—"

"Enough of this bullshit, okay?" He suddenly pressed you against his chest, letting you hug him around his waist. "I'm not letting you go, not now, not ever."

Where was your good mood and that sparkle that set your body on fire when you were in the restaurant? God, you hated yourself for acting like that, but his friends — those stupid yuppies — always made you sick to the stomach, but this time you really had lost your patience. And even though you calmed down now and hid your face in the crook of Patrick's neck, the tension between the two of you was still in the air, and you didn't really know what to expect when you arrived at his place.

After almost an hour, you were sitting on his big bed, completely naked and still shivering — you could still feel his touch on your most sensitive spots as Bateman had just washed you in the bathtub, rubbing and massaging you everywhere.

When you heard a soft click of the bedroom door, you raised your eyes to see him coming in, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other, his red tie loosened and some of the top buttons undone.

"How do you feel, babydoll?" Patrick asked you teasingly, shaking the glass in his hand and leaning against the door.

You swallowed hard when his super dark eyes glided over your exposed curves, and you had to hold back your rapid breathing, because you were so damn excited. " Much better, thank you."

Bateman let out a low chuckle before placing his drink on the shelf and coming a little closer to you, puffing on his cigar.

"Good," he smiled and blew a few rings of smoke. "Now show Daddy how you learned to use my gift."

His words forced the blood in your veins to curse faster, making your skin burn from the inside out. With a loud gasp, you lay on the bed, leaning on your elbows and spreading your legs wide, so he could see your succulent pussy.

As soon as you did so, Bateman clenched his chiseled jaw and almost bit down on the cigar, but he kept watching your little hand slide between your thighs, and when it reached your soaped slit, he couldn't help but growl — he'd been rock hard all this time, but now it was getting really painful.

"P-Patrick, I'm scared..." you whimpered abruptly, taking the pink silicone dildo — the one that has been laying beside you on the bed — and rubbing it along your taut lower lips to lubricate it. "It's so embarrassing."

"Oh, I know, honey. I know," he purred in his usual seductive voice, and unbuttoned his blue shirt. "But you don't have to be embarrassed. Trust me, baby, Daddy knows what's best for you."

Damn, that was too much.

Gulping and closing your eyes, you threw your head back and tried to let it go, placing the dildo at your dripping entrance, and the next second you cried out from the feeling of fullness as you pushed it deep into your womb.

"Such a good girl."

"D-Daddy!" You let out a high-pitched wail, focusing on his raspy voice as you were too embarrassed to open your eyes.

"Go on," Bateman exhaled sharply, putting the cigar in the ashtray, and then he unzipped his pants, his hot flesh literally pulsating. "You make Daddy so proud."

"Mhhm," his words made you arch your back, and you began to pump yourself with the sex toy, sensing a tight knot forming in your lower abdomen. "Pat-Patrick, please… talk to me!"

He didn't answer at first as he continued to undress, slowly stroking his engorged cock. "Ahhh, this is so fucking sweet," Patrick grunted, smearing his pre-cum around his swollen tip. "Can't do anything without my guidance, am I right, my babydoll?"

"Awww—yes," you gasped, your legs already shaking. "N-need you, Daddy! Need you so much…!"

At that moment, you didn't care about anything in the world, just the buzzing feeling in your core. There was only one person who could give you that vital release you needed so desperately, and you were more than ready to beg him if he asked you to.

"You know what," Bateman murmured as he finally undressed and joined you on the bed, and when you felt his big palm on your hip, you thought you were going to combust, but he gently stroked your cheek, soothing you a little, whispering: "Shh, my little one. Not yet."

You literally writhed on the sheets like a trapped kitten, afraid to breathe, afraid to say anything that would ruin this moment. 

"Patrick..."

"Yes, dear... I'm here," he covered your hand with his bigger one, pushing the dildo even deeper, making you scream. "That's it, that's how you do it!"

"Awww, oh my GOD!" you tried to close your legs as the friction became too intense and Bateman just snickered at your pathetic attempt to stop him, so he just grabbed your throat and yanked it a little against the bed. "D-Daddy, it hurts!"

"Oh yeah?" Patrick couldn't hide his excitement when he saw your eyes watering, but his inner beast craved more. "I really wanted to be nice to you today, but you made me change my mind."

"Ahhh!" You clawed at his hand, which was choking you hard, but this man was too strong. "I'm... I'm s-sorry! I'M SO SORRY!"

The way he shoved the dildo into your bruised cunt was so fucking brutal that for one second you blacked out as the apex of it hit your cervix pretty brutally.

When you opened your eyes and yours met his, all you could see was lust mixed with rage. Huffing, Bateman suddenly moved down to your face to nip at your lips, then suck them and lick your cheekbone as he relished having such control over you. With a devilish grin, he continued to squeeze your neck, forcing you to fuck yourself with the dildo that was now completely covered in your juices.

"Do you hear that sound?" He taunted you, hovering over you and pressing you down with his massive muscles. "You're dripping like a fucking waterfall! So don't try to pretend you're not enjoying it, slut!" 

"I'm going to explode!" Was all you could manage to scream as your whole body tensed like a spring.

"Awww, you're going to cum from fucking yourself with a cheesy sex toy, what a pathetic little whore!" Patrick almost barked these words in your face, but then he suddenly released your neck and went down to your collarbone, leaving wet, red marks here and there. "Keep going and don't you dare stop!"

Your eyes rolled back in your head when his wet tongue began to play with your swollen nipples, not to mention when he took one of them into his mouth and sucked it so eagerly that you cried out in pain. Trembling, you let him use your hand to set the pace, your inner walls aching every time the dildo brushed hard against them. 

When Bateman noticed that your little frame was quivering too much, he quickly slipped down between your legs to suck on your clit and holy shit, he was so good at it, he definitely knew what he was doing.

"I—mhm, I'm gonna cum… Daddy, p-pleaseeee!" You were no longer moaning — at this point you were literally screaming, and your throat was burning, but that only spurred him on to eat you more fiercely.

"Mmmm, I've been thinking about tasting this pussy," he tugged on your sensitive bud before swirling his tongue around it. "For so fucking long."

Another deep thrust, followed by his merciless lapping at your oversensitive cunt, made your orgasm wash over you like a huge ocean wave. Shaking, your half-opened mouth froze in a silent cry as all your insides spasmed too intensely, and this sensation lasted so long that you almost fainted.

"Jesus, what a dirty girl you are," Patrick chuckled after he pulled away from your pussy and removed the dildo, his face covered in your wetness, it was literally running down his chin. "Look at that, you fucking cummed all over my face!" He forced you to look at him, and your dazed glance coaxed a loud chuckle from him. "You think I'm done with you?" 

"I..." You tried desperately to pull yourself together, but the overstimulation hit you so hard that your brain refused to function at all.

"Yes, I'm talking to you!" 

"Aww, w-wait!" You wailed loudly as he grasped your head and forced you closer to the edge of the bed. "Daddy!"

"Don't you 'Daddy' me," his ominous intonation was kinda scary, but you had no choice but to submit. "Don't worry, honey... I'm just going to play with your mouth a little..."

With a quick thrust, he pushed himself into your mouth, since you didn't really have any power to protest. Although it would have been pointless to do it anyway. You expected him to face fuck you really hard, but instead Bateman gently took your chin for support as his hips began to move faster, petting your head each time his red, swollen tip hit your throat.

"Arghh, your mouth feels so good, I missed that."

Patrick stroked your cheek almost lovingly, ignoring the way that you were almost gagging on his thick cock, savoring his cum and keeping eye contact with him. Grunting, he didn't last long as he collapsed into your mouth, rolling his hips and spilling his sticky liquid deep down your throat, and you didn't make any pathetic sounds, no whimpering or sobbing — you just took what he gave you. With your eyes closed, you drank him dry and heard him murmur:

"For now, I forgive you."

Slowly, Bateman pulled out from your abused mouth, leaving a trail of his cum and letting a few drops fall on your breasts.

"Clean them," he pointed at your tits, pumping his still hard cock and watching you catch the drops of his cum with your fingers. "Now get on your knees and spread your legs wide."

Whimpering, you obeyed and Patrick didn't waste any time, positioning himself behind you and wrapping his strong hands around your waist. 

"Ahhh, Patrick..."

"Shush," he cut you off, rubbing his creamy cock between your ass cheeks. "I'm not going to fuck you in the ass, even though you really deserve it."

He rammed into your aching pussy without any mercy, stretching you even more from the inside and making you cry, your hands helplessly creasing the sheets beneath you.

"IT HURTS! AW!" You squealed as he pinned you down, forcing you to lie on your stomach as he trapped you under his massive body, relentlessly drilling your little hole.

"What? My dick is way bigger than that dildo, huh?" Bateman mocked you shamelessly, the slapping sound your bodies made was like music to his ears. "Ohh, what a poor little girl… mmhhm… I promise you… by the end of this night you will be so fucking full of my cum — that it will pour out, but I won’t stop… even if you beg me to!"

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[munsonsmixtapes]

Ok but imagine like older Eddie he's like 50 and he's still in corroded coffin but they only got big around Hawkins and surrounding areas but like you meet him ajd you're 23 and he's selling merch and you donf think he's in the band and you're in town for the headliners band which is a bigger more well known band bur yiu and Eddie start flirting and you're wearing your usual concert outfit a tight cropped tank top and short shorts and you guys takk and you wnd up buying merch for the band you think he's just selling for jusf bc you needed a reason to talj to him and then you go to your seats and the opening band is Eddie's bandand yiu see him and your jaw drops and you're in shock and he's so so giddy and flirty wven while he's playinf but only ti you and he feels like a teenager again and his hormones are racing and after the set you don't even stay to watch the headliner you go and talj eith him more and one thing leads to another and yiu guys ya know get filthy 🥵🥵🙈🙈🙈

This is such a great request! I did change the age gap because it’s a little too large for my liking so I hope that’s okay!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) fingering, grinding, age gap (reader is 25 and Eddie is 40)

You entered the crowded venue and smoothed out your skirt before heading over to the merch stand of the band you were most excited to see. You had worn your best outfit, hoping to get some action from the lead guitarist, even though he was definitely old enough to be your father. What could you say? You had a thing for older men and didn’t think there was anything wrong with that.

You pulled your shirt down just enough to show your cleavage, even though your bra was very visible through the tight material and made your way over to the merch table where you knew the band hung out before their set.

You looked around at the other tables as you went and stopped when you saw the hottest man you had ever seen at the stall right next to the one you had your eye on. He was staring directly at you, his eyes looking directly at your tits that were practically spilling over your tank top.

He had a beard that you were definitely into and his hair was pulled back into a loose bun which you assumed was to keep his hair off his neck in the hot venue and he was wearing a denim vest which showcased his tattoos very nicely. He had some on his torso and both of his arms were covered in full sleeves.

As you stepped closer, you could see all of his face piercing which included a hoop through both his lip and nose and a piercing through his eyebrow. He was so hot that you could have sworn you were getting wet just from looking at him.

“Hi,” you greeted, putting on your signature flirty smile and he mimicked it, his far better than yours.

“Hi,” he replied, pressing his hands on the counter and leaning forward, just close enough for you to get a whiff of him. He smelled like the perfect mixture of tobacco and whatever cologne he was wearing and it was intoxicating.

“Corroded Coffin?” You asked, looking down at the shirts that were displayed both behind him and on the table he was leaning on. You knew practically every band in the genre so you weren’t entirely sure why you had never heard of them.

“They’re newer,” he responded, his voice sounding raspy and low, making your cunt even more damp. “It’s their first big show outside of Indiana.”

“That’s really cool,” you smiled. You always loved supporting smaller bands and eyed the CD that was next to him, displaying what you had assumed was their album.

“You should check them out,” he said, handing you one of the CDs and a shirt that he assumed was your size. You reached for your purse, but he just shook his head.

“No need, sugar,” he winked. “It’s on the house.”

“Well thank you-” you paused, realizing you didn’t know his name.

“Eddie,” he responded and got thought the name suited him.

“Eddie,” you repeated and he loved the way it fell from your pretty glossed lips.

“And you are?” He asked, leaning even closer and his scent entered your nose again, making you want to smell it forever.

“I guess you’ll have to find out when you find me later,” you gave him a wink of your own and grabbed a sharpie from your purse that you had brought for autographs and grabbed his hand before scribbling your number on it. With that, you turned on your heel to head to to head into the seating area, making a beeline for a spot right in front of the barricade, the whole reason why you originally showed up in the first place as your mind wandered to Eddie.

Not long after, you received a text from Eddie which had been an eggplant emoji and immediately saved his number before sending him the water droplets back.

After about an hour of making conversation with the people around you, the lights went down and the first band came on. You watched as fog moved across the stage as the curtain slowly rose to reveal the band, a gasp escaping your lips as you realized that the front man was Eddie.

“How we doing San Francisco?” He asked as he adjusted his mic. His eyes locked on yours and you smiled, giving him a flirty wave. Everyone erupted in cheers and you joined them, clapping your hands together and cheering as loud as you could.

“Good to hear it. May I say that I am doing fantastic. I think I’m gonna start off with a fan favorite. Is that alright?” Everyone cheered again and you were curious to see which song they were going to perform.

The song started off slow, but you didn’t miss the absolutely filthy lyrics that were spilling from Eddie’s mouth. He was watching the entire time, almost as if he was dedicating the song to you. He then stepped away from his mic, you reached your hand out to him and he took it, pressing a kiss to the skin, looking directly into your eyes as he sang about wanting to fuck you like an animal.

As you watching Eddie perform, you let your mind think about all of the things you’d let him do to you. The way you’d grind against him while he sat in the passenger seat of your car as he took what he wanted from you as he kissed you until you were both breathless. He’d then stick his hands underneath your skirt and finger you, stretching you out so you’d be ready for his giant cock and he’d fuck you until you both orgasmed, the windows fogging up from your moans mixing together in the air.

You honestly hadn’t been paying attention their entire set after the first song. All you could think about was how badly you wanted to see Eddie naked and just how much you wanting to run your tongue along his lip ring while he pounded into you, making you moan like you never had before.

You sent Eddie your location as you got to your car and he met you there pretty quickly, still in his outfit from before, his torso glistening with sweat that you found yourself wanting to lick up.

“So, you gonna tell me your name now?” He asked as he took a drag of the cigarette he was holding.

“I’m y/n.”

“Oh, I’m gonna love moaning that,” he responded then his eyes widened. “That is why you asked me here, right?”

“What did you think the emoji meant?”

“I just wanted to be sure, sugar,” he took another drag from the cigarette and blew it through his lips. “Just wanted to make sure the feeling was mutual before I did anything. And I also wanted to make sure that you were of age before we did anything. You’d be surprised how many minors try to get with me.”

You pulled your ID from your wallet and handed it to him. You had been younger than he thought and a couple years younger than the half your age plus seven rule but since it was only two, he supposed he could make an exception. You were just so hot to not take the opportunity.

He gave you your ID back and without hesitation, his lips were on yours in a filthy kiss as he set you on the hood of your car, spreading your legs so he could step between them to get closer to you. He licked into your mouth and laid you down onto the hood, neither of you caring who was around. You were just so desperate for each other that you couldn’t waste any time getting into the car.

His tongue roughly scraped against yours and you let out a moan at the feeling which made his dick harden which you felt against you, making you even more wet. Eddie’s hand slowly moved down to your skirt and moved up it. His fingers were rough and his rings were cool against your thigh as he slowly moved his hand up it. His cock hardened even more once he realized you hadn’t been wearing any underwear.

He shoved two of his fingers up your pussy as his lips moved against yours and you moaned into his mouth at both the sensation and his cold rings brushing the sensitive skin.

“Oh,” you moaned and he pulled away, wanting to see you come undone at his touches. Your eyes closed as he got both fingers fully inside and then he pulled out, pumping in and out and you moaned louder as he moved harder and faster, your legs giving out at the pure delight that was coursing through you.

“Look so pretty around my fingers, sugar. Bet you look even prettier around my cock,” he said as he pulled his fingers out of you as soon as you reached your orgasm. He licked the slick clean off his fingers and looked down at you with a grin as you gasped at the action. “And look at that, you taste even better.”

Your legs were feeling like jello as you were sliding down the hood of the car. Eddie caught you and helped you to the passenger seat. He got in first and you climbed on top of him. He slammed the door and as soon as you were in the privacy of the tinted windows, your lips were on his, the kiss rough and hot as you leaned the seat back as far as it would go. Once it was situated, you moved your hands to Eddie’s vest, pulling it down his shoulders. He leaned up so you had more ease removing it and eventually, it ended up in the backseat as he pulled the bottom of your shirt out from your skirt. He could see the red bra underneath it pretty clearly, but he wanted to see it without the shirt being in the way.

You lifted your arms and he removed your shirt in one quick motion, tossing it into the back seat before taking a moment to get a look at you. You looked so fucking hot on top of him with your kiss bitten lips and your tits that were practically spilling out of your bra. He didn’t know what he had done to be able to be there with you in that moment, but he was definitely going to consider himself fucking lucky.

Eddie’s fingers ran along the lace that was attached to the tops of the cups and you felt your nipples harden as his fingers touched your bare chest as his fingers moved. He kissed you again and stuck his hand down one of the cups to squeeze your tit. He licked into your mouth and you began grinding against him, the slick of your sopping wet cunt seeping through his jeans, making the fabric wet as well.

You felt his hard dick against your entrance as you continued to grind on him and he groaned into your mouth at the feeling. Eventually, his hands moved to the back of your bra and he unclasped it with ease before tossing it to the back to join your other discarded clothing.

“God, fuck, you’re so hot,” he practically whimpered as he caught sight of your tits.

“Oh, you like them?” You asked, moving to the left and right, causing them to move with you. Eddie swore he was going to cream his pants right there.

“Wanna see them bounce while you ride me,” his voice was even lower and raspy than before and you swore that you weren’t going to survive if he was going to keep talking like that. “Wanna ride me, sugar?” That nickname was doing things to you that you couldn’t even explain.

“Wanna ride you so bad, fuck,” you whined. Oh, he could get used to that. You moved so he could remove his pants while you reached for a condom in your purse. Once you had it and his pants and underwear were down to his ankles. His cock was even larger than you had expected and you were not glad he had fingered you so you were more stretched out.

“You’re so big,” you told him and he smiled.

“Think you can take it?”

“Oh, I know I can.” You rolled the condom onto his dick then situated yourself onto it, the two of you letting out moans as he entered you. You grabbed onto his shoulders while his hands went to your waist. Your hips bucked as you began to ride him. Eddie watched your tits bounce as you moved and he was mesmerized by the moment, very sure that no one had ever looked that hot in that situation.

You continued to ride him as you leaned down and pressed your lips to his, your tongue moving his lip ring back and forth as your bare tits pressed to his chest. It was overstimulating, but he didn’t even care.

“Fuck, driving me crazy,” he moaned. “Can’t be doing all these things at once, sugar. My poor cock can’t take it.”

“Oh, you can take it,” you responded, your movements becoming even faster and harder, causing his back to arch, his own hips bucking against yours. His vision went hazy as he reached his peak, letting out his loudest moan yet, but neither of you were ready to stop.

You pulled him in for another filthy kiss and loved the way his facial hair scraped against your face. It was touch and coarse and you didn’t even care if it irritated your skin so long as he kept kissing you like that, his tongue swirling around and scraping against yours.

You scratched down his chest and you continued to ride him, the feeling of his hips bucking against yours causing you to come undone. His fingers were digging into your hips so hard that you swore that he was going to leave bruises, but you didn’t care. In fact, you kind of wanted him to so you could have physical proof of this moment.

Your pace slowed down as both of you orgasmed, wanting to take things slow for a bit since you had gotten there so quickly. Now you just wanted to enjoy the way he felt inside you a little longer. He felt so good and you were stalling at that point because you knew that this was just going to be a one time thing. It always was with rockstars. They were always the hit it and quite it types.

You eventually got off of Eddie and the two of you cleaned up and he pulled his pants back up which you helped him button. You then settled yourself back on his lap and leaned your head against his chest, tracing the tattoo that was right by your face.

“So, same time tomorrow?” He asked, letting his fingers gently run up and down your back and you pulled back to look at him.

“You want to?” You asked, your face lighting up at his suggestion. He pulled you into a short kiss before smiling as well.

“Sugar, if you fuck me like that again, I’d be happy to do it every night.” You pulled him in for another kiss the laid your head back on his chest to hide the grin on your face.

“It’s a date,” he responded, a grin making its way upon his face as he thought that maybe he’d wine and dine you first. That was what you deserved for making him feel that good, after all.

[rlimagi]

Kitchen Disaster!

Pairing: Bridget x reader

Request?: Yes!

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none that I’m aware of at least!

It was the day of your 2nd year anniversary and your adorable girlfriend, Bridget planned a baking date with you. Of course you couldn’t say no even though you were a walking disaster in the kitchen.

You were already starting to regret agreeing in the first place when Bridget barged into your dormitory at 4 in the morning. She claimed that it would be fun to go for a run before your baking date to ‘get a clear head’ which you didn’t understand why in the first place but you weren’t going to question her.

Bridget could get scary when she’s mad.

“Okay, so we’re going to make gingerbread men cookies today! But luckily for you I already made them before hand so all you have to do is decorate them.” Bridget informed as she was putting her apron on. “We do not want a repeat of last time.”

The last time you baked with her, you burnt the cookies and nearly caused a fire because you forgot to take them out of the oven, it was heating up for hours.

“Wait, hold on. Did you use the magic cookbook or the normal one?” You asked as she handed you a tray of freshly baked gingerbread men straight from the oven that you will never touch ever again.

“The magic cookbook of course! Did you think I was going to make boring gingerbread men cookies?” Bridget gasped dramatically before booping you on the nose. “Silly.”

“Yes, of course! But don’t say I didn’t warn you if they run away from us, or worse, bite us before we get a chance to try them.” You sent her a teasing smile as you handed her the ingredients to make icing.

Bridget had this obsession with baking magical sweets and it would usually backfire on her and everyone she handed them to. You were her favorite victim.

“You’re being very snarky today, baby.” Bridget sent you a reprimanding look before giving you a kiss on the cheek. “Remember we get more from sugar than salt!”

“Sorry...” You muttered softly as you hugged Bridget from behind, placing your chin on her shoulders as you watch her make the icing for the gingerbread men.

Bridget grinned as your arms were wrapped around her waist. She loved it when you clung onto her, usually it would be her who craved for physical touch.

You noticed how she struggle to mix the ingredients together since her hair kept falling into the bowl. “Hold on, let me tie your hair up.” You quickly took a scrunchie off your wrist before using it to tie her hair up.

“Thank you, sweetheart. You’re too sweet.” Bridget placed a kiss on your cheek when you finished. You always knew how to make her feel like she was on cloud 9, always taking care of her needs even when she didn’t ask you to. “Can you also get another mixing bowl for me, please?”

“Of course! I’m happy to be of service, your majesty.” You nodded obediently, giving her a kiss on her cheek before leaving her side to look for the bowls.

Bridget giggled as she watched you go through all the cabinets in frustration but failing to see the bowl that was right in front of your face.

“I swear they were in here!” You groaned in frustration after you went through the last one but still haven’t found any bowls. It was driving you insane because there were usually bowls everywhere.

“Baby, I think you need to go see a ophthalmologists.” Bridget smiled teasingly as she reached out for the mixing bowl that was on the counter the whole time.

Your jaw dropped as you watched her walk back to her place with the mixing bowl you were trying to find so desperately. “It was there the whole time!? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your girlfriend laughed at your pouty face before grabbing your face and placing a peck on your lips. “Stop being so pouty and get to work you big baby, those cookies aren’t going to look pretty on their own.” she said before placing icing on your noise when you weren’t looking.

You gasped dramatically before grabbing the piping back and chased after her when she escaped from your grasp. “Hey! I’m not going to let you get away so easily!”

Bridget squealed when you finally managed to get a hold of her, squirming in your arms for a second before caving in. “Alright, fine. You caught me, ahh!”

You chuckled as she tried her hardest to escape the icing but she was cornered and you were going to make her look…dashing!

“Hey! Now you’re a pink cat with white whiskers!” You teased after you finished working on your masterpiece. Bridget sat in still the whole time because you were getting even with her.

“Haha, funny.” Bridget shook her head in amusement before taking the other piping bag that was filled with icing. “Now we shall give life to those gingerbread men before we eat all of the icing ourselves.”

“I’m not too sure if I want to give them life but you do you, honey!” You sighed before you finally start to place icing onto the gingerbread men.

Not too long after, you and Bridget finally finished the work you’ve been working on since the sun rose and now it was nearly time for it to go back to sleep.

“We did a great job.” You pretended to wipe the non existent sweat of your face as you admired the gingerbread men that finally looked like gingerbread men. But you honestly were very surprised that they hadn’t gotten up and ran away already.

“Hey, I did all the work. You only sat and ate more icing!” Bridget exclaimed, throwing you a gentle punch jokingly as she shook her head in disbelief.

“Alright fine, you did a great job so let’s have a bite on your masterpiece.” You sent her a cheeky grin before reaching your hand out to grab one but as soon as you did, it came alive and bit your finger.

You stared at the little man in shock as you winced in pain. “Ouch! Bridget, our baby bit me!”

Bridget froze for a moment after hearing what you said. “Our baby?” She asked as her cheek turned into a rosy red shade.

“Not helping, baby! Get it off me, please!” You screamed as you shook your hand repeatedly, trying to get it to fly off but it won’t budge. For a cookie, it was surprisingly strong and you wondered what monster ingredient did your girlfriend put in those cookies.

“Oh, Right! Sorry, let me help you there-“

Of course the baking date ended with a disaster as always, but it was fine because at least you made your favorite person happy.

Even though you totally thought you were going to die when that gingerbread man nearly bit your finger off.

[sweetheart-satoru]

nicknames

calling them by a nickname for the first time !!

author's note: help i've been running out of ideas for the first time :( !! anyways here's 3 jjk men and being called by a nickname for the first time ft satoru, suguru, & nanami!!

❦ ─ gojo satoru !

it's been a long day. being a sorcerer is tough. satoru do this, satoru do that. that's all he hears from the higher-ups. he was tired, he wanted to come home to you.

it's around 1 am when he comes home, he kicks off his shoes and walks upstairs where he sees you in bed cuddling a plush, one that he won for you at an amusement park, scrolling through your phone.

he's quiet. when you hear the door creak to your shared bedroom your look up, "baby, you're home?" you ask with a small smile. all he can offer you is a hum.

you know days like these he doesn't feel like talking. his day has been too much, and you get it. you have days like that too. where you just want to come home and lay in his arms in comfy silence.

"do you want me to help you shower?" you ask quietly, getting out from under the covers. and he nods slowly. his head hurts, and his body is about to collapse.

when you two get into the washroom you help him take off his clothes and hold his hand as you step into the shower. he starts mumbling something you can't hear.

"hm? what was that?" you grab the shampoo bottle and squeeze some of the continents out onto your hand before slowly massaging it into his scalp. "why're you still awake..?" he says again.

"i waited for you, 'toru." your voice is like honey. smooth, and warm feeling. his heart melts. he's silent for a moment, and you're humming as you rinse the first round of shampoo out of his hair.

it's moments like these where he feels safe in someone else's arms.

"..'toru?" he asks quietly. and you give him a grin, one that he loves to see everyday when he comes home. "mhm! you're okay with that, right?"

he steps closer as your massage his scalp with more shampoo again, and presses his lips onto yours. your eyes fall shut and you barely hear the water drops from the shower head fall to the ground. he pulls back, gives you a small grin, "of course i am."

❦ ─ geto suguru !

"stop, that tickles!" your giggles echo in your living room as your boyfriend, suguru, tickles you relentlessly for braiding his hair while he napped on your lap.

"you think it's funny to braid my hair, take pictures of it, and send it to ieiri and satoru?" his eye twitched, but you both knew he'd never truly be mad at you. "they'll never let me live this down." he sighs, before laying on top of you, basically squashing you under his body.

your face was basically in his neck, and you tried wriggling your way out of him. "you're too big! you're too big!" you tried telling him, but your voice came out muffled.

suguru places both hands by the side of your head and slowly pulls back, giving you a smirk. it's silent for a moment. and he watches as the gears shift in your head trying to understand why he looked at you the way was. "you know.." he starts, before your eyes slightly widen.

"you're so gross!" but you laugh along anyway. "you're too big!" he mocks you, "but thanks, it has to be true from how much you say it." he grins, tickling your sides a little more.

"'ru, stop, i can't breathe." you sound so breathless, trying to fight his hands away from your sides.

he pauses, "ru?" he repeats, sitting up, and you follow. "mhm, do you like it?" he doesn't just like it, he loves it. but he will never tell you that.

"no." he says dryly. you fake gasp, "wow! so rude, ru." he shakes his head, "stop calling me that." but you both know he doesn't want that. "nuh uh, i'll call you whatever i want." you boop his nose, smiling when his face scrunched.

"oh, really?" he knows he can make you quit any time. you start giggling again, "i'm sorry! i can't take you seriously with those braids!" your hunch over, gasping for air.

his eyes start twitching in annoyance, hands reaching to pull the hair ties out. "you have until i finish getting these braids out before i come to tickle you again." he says.

"but you look like such a pretty princess!" you snicker, mockingly. he stares at you silently, a grin forming on his face as he watches your cocky smirk slowly disappear as you watch him take out the braids fast.

his hands reach for the second one, his speed increasing. "five, four.." you swallow, jumping off the couch, "uh oh.." you chuckle nervously, before hurrying to a spot in your house that's away from him. "three, two.."

"'ru, come on! i love you, lets talk this out!" you smile at him, walking backwards as he stands up and walks towards you. "one." he says, quietly, and calmly. too calm for your liking.

"ready or not, because here i fucking come, baby."

❦ ─ nanami kento !

he's arguing on the phone, probably with work, as he makes lunch for little yuji. "yuji," you call out to him, "are you ready for school?" you ask. "mama! i need help with my shoelaces!" he says back to you. and you glance at the very stressed nanami in the kitchen, packing up yuji's food.

"here, let me show you," you slowly, but surly teach little yuji to tie his shoelaces as nanami comes into the front with yuji's lunch. "here," he hands yuji the little lunch box. "have a good day." nanami says, bending down to give a small kiss onto yuji's head. "are you okay, dada?" the small boy asks.

"hm? yeah, of course. why?" he asks, patting his head, "you seemed angry on the phone." nanami looked at you worried, afraid he might have scared him, to which, you gave him a small smile that told him to relax.

"im okay, it's nothing you need to worry about." when nanami stands back up to his full height, yuji gives nanami's knee a small kiss. "okay!" he grins happily, and both yours and nanami's knees feel weak.

"mama, can you and dada walk me to the bus stop?" the second grader asks you. you both glance at your watch before to each other and then down to him. "sure, baby." you smile.

you watch and yuji kicks his feet in joy. you unlock the door, "come, you two. don't want to miss the bus now, do we?" yuji shakes his head before grabbing on to his dada's hand before walking to the stop.

you stand behind them, with your phone out and film them as they walk, chatting with each other about the friends yuji has made in school. "and one of their names is megumi! he's so cool, he's really good at art too! and the other, her name is nobara! she's kinda scary.. but she's really smart and is good at coloring!" nanami hums in amusement, listening to yuji rant about the friends he has made.

placing your phone back into your pocket, nanami turns his head to you, "why are you behind us? here." he holds out his hand, which you happily take it.

you three wait for the bus to arrive. "oh, dada, mama! i have something for you!" yuji places his lunch box down, and slides his bag off. pulling out a sheet of paper, and a pack of stickers. "yesterday, i drew this for you mama," he hands it to you, "and i played a game and i won a bunch of stickers! i got them for you, dada!" yuji motions nanami to bend down, which he does, and places a bunch of stickers all over his face.

you giggle, "so cute!" and snap a few pictures of him. he rolls his eyes at you, and lets yuji continue placing more stickers onto his face. "do you like it?" he asks, and nanami nods. "i love it." he pinches his cheek.

the bus arrives and yuji gets on, only after kissing you both on the cheek goodbye. when the bus leaves, nanami turns to you. "you better delete that."

you shake your head, "delete what?" you giggle when he presses his forehead against yours. "don't show it to anyone, especially not gojo." you grin, "don't know what you're talking about, but okay, 'nami."

the way you say his nickname makes him smile softly, if you didn't look close enough you'd miss it. he doesn't comment on it, and you take the silence as an okay to keep calling him that.

"so, 'nami, was it work again?" you say, referring to the arguing on the phone earlier. he nods, "yeah, they're really stressing me out." you hold his hand as you walk back to your shared house. "wanna talk about it?" you kiss the hand that wears his wedding ring.

"how about a bath together and breakfast first?" he suggests, "i'll start the bath and you make the breakfast?" you ask, and he kisses your temple, walking into the house.

"always."

author's note: bye this took me so long. also i am not a nanami girl so im sorry if this doesn't act like him :( i've never written for him before !!

[orpheuswasmine]

Amnesia Bill AU

I’m just saying Bill Cipher amnesia AU, where ten years has passed. He’s turned human and sent back to Earth and he has to be around the Pine family. He’s left genuinely confuse why everyone fucking hates him and makes poor attempts at trying to be friends with them 😭

Bonus points are that mostly everyone thinks he’s faking it, all the while this doofus is falling in love with Ford all over again and he occasionally remembers his past, via dreams or something—I guess the only person that would loosely believe Bill would be Mable.

It’ll be better if I write a short excerpt to this hold on:

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The quietness of the room was enough to be mistaken for a funeral, though the atmosphere was intense, uneasy, and honestly—Bill felt as though any second he was going to be attacked by someone—he sat on the hardwood floor, being stared down to the group of people that dragged him to the place.

He tugged at the black turtleneck sweater, clearing his throat which he instantly regretted as he was met with a glare by the two older men. Identical they were, but Bill could spot some of the differences between them; like their chins, ears, and noses as well.

The unwelcoming atmosphere and the continued glares he was receiving. If he could, he’d get up and run out of the place, but he didn’t. It’s not like he can’t, but…the lack of knowing who he is, where he is, hell, he doesn’t even have half a mind to remember anything. These people though…despite the clear animosity in their eyes, their sense of them wanting to tear him apart—Bill couldn’t shake the feeling they know him—not just know him, but like, he was so crucial in their lives at some point.

“Bill,” one of the elder men spoke—grey hair, big glasses, the clothing looking similar to what Bill was wearing—though with colors such as red, beige, grey—he held his hands behind his back, he stood up straight though his head with slight tilted, perhaps out of curiosity? Granted, there was still a hint of malice directed towards him.

It took Bill a minute, but he pointed to himself, “Me? Oh, yeah, of course, who else would be called Bill,” he remarks, trying to cover up the sudden call to his name, “That’s my name, Bill… Bill… Bill…” he repeated it over and over again, trying to get a grasp of something, his surname.

“Cipher,” the man finished his sentence.

Bill eyed at him, “Cipher? Bill Cipher, oh that almost… rings a bell?” he mumbled before shrugging.

The room fell silent and suddenly there was a groan. It came from the young man who stood beside a girl, they looked identical, were they twins as well? The boy paces the room in circles going into a rambling fit, “Bill. Bill Cipher, demon—well, human right now but—” he groaned and came to a halt abruptly, “—you know us. Come on! The gig is up Bill!”

And again, Bill sat there, puzzled, ‘You know us’, echoed in his mind. A pang of guilt perhaps hit him. He felt a bit sorry now, considering that they confirmed his suspicions. He hesitated to speak, but he had to say something, anything. He glanced at the elder man who had spoken to him earlier—he walked over to him, moving his hands into his pocket—Bill caught a glimpse of his hand, was that an extra finger he saw? His gaze lingered back to the man, “I’m going to be honest here, uh—” he paused briefly, trying to think of a name, “—Sixer? Yeah, uh, I don’t, know any of you.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Sorry for any mistakes, I’m writing this at 2 AM, and I just really wanted to get this out of my system!!!

[theywantedplayer]

can you do one for quinn where you guys get into a fight so your friends take you out to a bar and they lowkey ditch you and a guy won’t leave you alone so despite not talking rn you call quinn to come get you and then you guys fight some more in the car but you’re still pretty drunk so you switch from fighting to being a cuddly drunk bc he looked so cute when he was jealous and mad and you guys make up when you get back to your apartment

MasterList

PromptList

“Where are you going?”

Quinn’s voice stopped you from opening the front door. You turn around giving a sharp look at the man before you speak.

“I'm going out with friends” You simply stated 

“Seriously” You rolled your eyes mad that Quinn wanted to start this argument again. The team's new medical assistant has been all over Quinn lately. One night when he was hit in the nose with a puck, you went down to the medical office since they announced he wasn't going to be returning to the game.

But when you went down to the medical office you saw the new assistant talking to Quinn.You don't have a problem with her till you saw where her hand was. You couldn't figure out why she had her hand on your boyfriend's thigh when the problem was his nose.

“Quinn my friend invited me out to a bar ok, so i'm going because i'd rather be out with them then be here arguing with you” you stated 

“We don't have to argue it's not a big deal” he shrugged 

Now what Quinn said made you fume 

“Not a big deal” You repeated “Its a big deal that someone my boyfriend works with is fucking handsy”

“She’s not handsy y/n don't overreacted” He argued “She like that with everyone”

You were so hurt that Quinn couldn't see what you saw, if it was the other way around he’d be fuming. The fact he was sticking up for her when she wasn't even around made you so angry.

“I know for a fucking fact she not like that with everyone” You yelled takening a step forward “Because Ive asked Brock, because ive ask Petty and they all agree that she’s only like that with you!”

There a was beat of silence before Quinn spoke again and when he did, he spoke to calming for your liking 

“You asked my teammates”   

Your face heated up with embarrassment, you looked away ashamed that you even asked his teammates.

“God your so fucking Insecure” You heard Quinn mutter to himself, as he ran his hand threw his hair.

You stood there awkwardly not knowing what to say and clearly Quinn was done with this argument.

“Fine Quinn you win, i'm going out” You muttered leave out the front door. 

You thought going out with your friends would help you but as soon as you arrived with your friends it seemed like all they wanted to do was talk to some men at the bar. You and Quinn had sure gotten into a fight but you'd never cheat on him.

You were left all alone at the bar just scrolling through your phone with more alcohol in your system than you could handle.

Then someone sat down beside you. You looked up and saw a man sitting beside you, you gave him a smile of Acknowledgement but that was your first mistake.

“Sooo you here by yourself” he asked

You cringed at his basic line “No i'm here with some friends” you simply stated

“And these friends just left you all alone” he asked turning his bar stool to face you

You felt your body heat up in an uncomfortable way at his words and the alcohol probably wasn't helping either.

“I'm suree their a-around here somewhere” you tried not to slur but it was clear to the man that you were drunk.

“Maybe you and I could share couple drinks and see where this goes” You almost puked at the feeling of his hand on your thigh, you stumped out of your bar seat mumbling “I have a boyfriend”

“Yea but he’s at home right?” you heard the man's voice say as he followed you

“Leave me the fuck alone” you yelled caching the Attention of other people around you

The guy could clearly see that other people were watching you

“Fine I get fuck” he responed turning around and leaving you

Now with the night even more ruined you just wanted to go home but you didn't know where your friends were bad they weren't answering their phones. You stumbled outside and sat on a bench that was near the bar.

You did the only thing you could have done and that was call Quinn

You quickly found Quinn’s concat and pushed the call button. You knew it was almost 1 in the morning so he was probably sleeping.

“H-hello” You heard Quinn’s raspy voice on the other line proving you right that he was sleeping.

“Hiii Quinny” You smiled into the phone 

“Hi y/n whats up” He asked

“Sooo the girl’s are talking to some guys in the bar and I already have a guy at home, that being you an-” 

“You need me to pick you up?” he asked cutting you off 

“Yes” you mumbled 

You could hear shuffling on the other side of the line, knowing he was on way made you feel better.

“What bar are you guys at?” he asked grabbing his keys and heading out the door 

“I don't know” you respond laughing 

“Fuck just send your locashon, and Ill be there” he snapped back clearly still mad about the argument you both had before you felt.

His tone of voice and words whipped the smile right of your face, you quickly went and sent him your location.

“Thank you, I’ll be there soon” Was the last thing he said before he hung up.

You took a deep breath trying to keep your emotions at bay before your boyfriend came to pick you up. You just scrolled through tik tok like you've been doing all night.

It wasn't long till Quinn’s blue Toyota pulled up right in front of you. You smiled when you saw him to get out of the car, you quickly got up but stubbled making Quinn catch you. 

You laughed as he helped you into the car, you watched him hussle around to the driver side of the car.

“You came to get me” You smiled at him as you reached for one of his hands holding it.

“Mhm” he grumbled 

“Your mad” you said staring at him squeezing his hand

“A little” he responded, pulling his hand away from yours and placing it in the steering wheel.

“Quinny” you whined turning your body towards him “I'm sorry ok, I'm sorry I didn't know who else to call ok!” you signed “He just wouldn't leave me alone” you mumbled looking away

“What?” Quinn asked whipping his head towards you 

“This guy at the bar” You answered “I was at the bar and he wouldn't stop talking to me, i got him to go away, then I called you”

“Why were You by yourself” He asked a little to sharp for your liking 

“It wasn't like I wanted to be the girls ditched me like 20 minutes in” You snapped “He didn't really do anything, just put his hand on my thigh” you shrugged

“Y/n that's not nothing he touched you” He told pulling into your guy’s driveway “That's flirting”

“Oh so now having a hand on the thigh is important, fuck you Quinn” You fired at him trying  to open the car door but Quinn was to quick with the lock button “Unlock the door”

“Y/n your drunk if you get out you’ll fall” he stated unbuckling his seat belt 

You stayed quiet, still mad that Quinn couldn't see your point of view.

“And your right ok, I should have said something” He admitted 

“Yea you f-fucking shhould havee” you drunkly spat pulling on the door again.

“Y/n stop i'm trying to apologize” you turned back to face him.

Quinn felt horrible, he knew he was wrong and that he should have said something. He hated that he was snapping and petty. You called him because you felt unsafe and he was too focused on the argument that happened almost five hours ago.

“Im sorry ok” He sighed grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze “You were right, if it's what you want i’ll talk to coach and see if I can switch to the other medical supervisor” he compromised

“Yea that is what I fucking want” You still spat at him

Quinn took a deep breath knowing you were still mad, he gave your hand a final squeeze before he opened his door and walked around to your side.

He opened your door making the interior light switch on giving him a good look at your drunken state. He was too busy arguing so see that your hair was frizzy and your smudged make up. Quinn reached over and unbuckled your seat belt, he didn't look at him still a little hurt. 

You felt your hair be tucked back behind your ear and out of your face, you looked up at your boyfriend slightly squinting at the bright light. Quinn softly smiled at your cute drowsy state, cradling the side of your face with the inside of his palm.

“Come on baby, let get you to bed” He comforted 

You mumbled something in response that he couldn't understand. He helped you out of the car slowly not wanting you to fall,he had his arm around your waist and his other arm coming across to grab your hand leading you through the house and to your guide's shared bedroom.

You flopped down onto the bed with a groan, almost falling asleep till you heard Quinn’s voice.

“No no no Y/n not yet, you gotta stay up” He said, grabbing your arm pulling you back to standing in front of him, slightly swaying side to side.

“I wanna go to bed” You mumbled, with your eyes being closed you could hear Quinn moving around.

“I know, I know but you can't sleep in your clothes and makeup baby” He said

Baby

God you loved it when he took care of you. Sure you were still mad but all you wanted to do was touch him,hug him basically anything.

When you opened your eye’s Quinn had his back to you as he was going through your side of the closet looking for something you could wear to bed. He turned around holding a t-shirt and sweatpants in hand.

“Ok let's get you changed” He said stepping in front of you “take of your shirt”

You snickered a little at his choice of words, he smirked at your response 

“You know what I mean” He laughed as you grabbed the gem of your shirt but you struggled to get it over your head.

Quinn laughed more at you struggling, he helped you get it over your head just leaving you in  your bra. You un-clipped your bra leaving you now just in your jeans, even though you and Quinn have been together for more than a year he still tried to give you your Privacy and not look since you were still drunk and it made him feel wrong.

Quinn handed you one of his T-shirts and you tried to put it on but you struggled again to put it on.

“You need help huh?” he laughed

“Yes Quinn my tit’s are out, of course I need help” You snapped

Quinn threw his head back and laughed before he helped you put on the shirt.

“Yea laugh it up Hughes”

Quinn led you to sit down on the bed, he lent down to slip off your shoes and struggled to take your pants off. You were no help, lying limp on your back basically half asleep. Once he got them off he quickly grabbed some make-up whipp's from your bathroom, when he returned you were in the middle of crawling into the bed.

“Nope y/n we’re not done yet” he laughed trying to pull you to the side of the bed again

You light swatted him away trying to get comfortable “I wanna sleepppp” you whined 

“You need to take your make-up off and put the sweat-pants on” He told sitting on the side of the bed “I don't need pants i'm fine, just hurry up” you said turning your face to face him.

“So bossy” Quinn teased as he whipped your makeup off your face