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ghostwhippet · 2 months ago

Text

From Scratch

Nutrition Info: Johnny/Reader; 4k; a meetcute launched by Reader's inability to cook reasonable portions, and Johnny's... well, just Johnny

No matter how long you live alone, you can’t get the hang of cooking for one person. Even when you try to make a single-serving meal instead of batch cooking, somehow it balloons out of control. Wasting food makes you feel awful, but you can only freeze so much.

One evening, desperate and utterly fed up, you go kick gently at a neighbor’s door, both hands full, trying to mimic a knock with your shoe. Jason, you think his name was? Striking blue eyes, big frame, a cute cropped mohawk, amazing brogue, and he’s always been cordial when you’ve run into him around the building. Friendly, but not too friendly.

He’s understandably confused by your request at first, but seems happy enough for the food, and takes it around your repeated apologies–for bothering him, for existing, for anything you can find, really.

Unfortunately, not even forcing yourself to go and do all of that manages to pierce your shite sense of volume. Your trips to his door do get less awkward over time, though. And Johnny, his name is, always has sparklingly clean dishes and containers to return in exchange for the full ones.

Eventually he just starts showing up at your place instead and eats with you at your bar counter. He didn’t really ask, and you definitely didn’t, but there he is all the same, and… if you're honest? He’s just so easy to be around, it quickly feels natural having him there. He puts you off your guard, puts you at ease and makes you smile, like those are somehow the most natural things in the world.

From that first night, Johnny has insisted on helping with dishes. Starting the second, he’s always got groceries with him. Even manages to talk you out of your discomfort over accepting them, so well that on his fourth night, you’ve got a small shopping list ready. He’s cheeky, you don’t think he’ll mind. And he is right, after all: you're probably feeding him at least three or four nights out of the week, what with all the leftovers.

You start eating better, and trying new things you'd always planned on “getting around to,” now that you've got a reason to cook beyond not starving. Everything comes out fine the first time you make it, when you’re closely following a recipe, and Johnny has no qualms about trying anything you put in front of him. You’ve never met someone so genuinely un-fussy when it comes to food.

A couple months after he’s started eating at your place, he disappears for a while. “Work trip,” is all he'll say, and you don’t pry, even though you really want to.

Once he’s back, he starts coming over weekend afternoons sometimes. You do brunch with beer or fancy drinks in champagne flutes, or occasional breakfast on the roof before other people are awake, him in a big hoodie or jumper, and you wearing a thick blanket like it's trying to digest you, looking like a half-drowned cat because no living being is meant to be awake at such an hour.

You cut fruit into mangled flowers and vague geometric shapes for the brunches, usually while just spending time with him. He tries his hand at it once, with you pulling up videos, laughing the whole time you’re explaining how it’s supposed to work, and the utter bastard is better at it on his first go than you were after weeks. His hands are confoundingly steady, and his hand-eye coordination borders on the unnatural.

That’s probably the official start of his sous chef arc. And that’s what has him spending a night judging your knives and marveling, repeatedly and loudly, that you still have all your fingers.

You might put a piece of eggshell into his omelet that night in retaliation, and he might not even have the decency to react to it.

“...Johnny I can hear it crunching, oh my God would you spit it out!” You manage between laughter that’s got your face hurting.

That happens a lot around him. Smiling so much it hurts.

“Nah, i’s nice texture,” he says around the mouthful, then starts enunciating the longer words. “Very advanced technique. Shows a great awareness of the culinary experience–”

“You’re being such a prat. Why are you being such a prat!”

He talks over you as if he can’t hear you, as if he’s doing some mockingly posh review. “And honestly, the crunching–” he pauses and chomps down on the shell for effect, and how is it still intact, “it really engages the senses. Keeps me immersed in my dining experience.”

You regret loaning him your cooking books. Never again.

After that, though, he steals your knives, takes them home, and they come back so sharp you can cut windowpane slices of potato. He offers to teach you how to do it yourself–after stipulating with heart-clenching eagerness that he’s happy to come over and do it for you any time.

Johnny gets weirdly into shopping farmer’s markets, walking around discovering new produce and varieties of things he’s never seen before. “Fuck would I know tomatoes come in this color? Look at this thing, it’s like a feckin’... it’s a wee lumpy sunset, isn’t it? And this! Like someone took the heart of a dragon,” his voice had gone terribly dramatic, and you definitely hadn’t covered your face, “and stuck it on a bush somewhere.”

“Baby how are you so huge, but so adorable?” You don't know when the pet names started, but you know he started them; sometimes it feels like you two grew up together.

You like the challenge of the new and unexpected ingredients that come from his trips, and by this point, he’s keeping your kitchen pretty stocked with whatever oddball pantry items you ask for, so you're set up to deal with almost anything. But on rare occasions he’ll call you with a question, too. You’ve had each other’s numbers for a while, it just made coordinating easier.

“Oi can you make sommat with uh… fiddlehead ferns?”

You always can, whatever he asks about. It just takes a quick internet search to find out if you can tackle it that same night, or if it needs to wait for another day. Sometimes it ends up disastrous, but like a shot, Johnny has you laughing or throwing something at him (usually-but-not-always also while laughing) before guilt or shame can get a proper foothold.

There was a night when he was too excited about something to wait for you to answer the door when he knocked, and since then, he just sort of comes in on his own after he announces himself—at least when you know to expect him. That feels right, too, just like having him at your counter had.

You’re feeding the both of you almost every night of the week by now, even if you’re still not cooking often. You like being around him so much, you can’t imagine doing it less, not even when cooking is the last thing you want to be doing. It’s like there’s a bubbly little sun in your chest when he’s around.

Johnny makes you so happy, in fact, and you’re so afraid of losing your time with him, it’s nearly six months before the first time you have to tap out of a dinner, too knackered to make yourself even casually presentable, nevermind cook so much as instant noodles.

He reacts like it’s no problem at all, which of course he’d do, because he’s wonderful, but you don’t manage to keep your heart from dropping that he’s not at least a little sad. That he doesn’t, maybe, look forward to the nights like you do. You know your arrangement is practical, and he’s never been over unless there was food involved, but… well… seeing him seems to have become rather… vital to you.

Which means it’s better to put it away, anyhow, right?

So when, an hour after you’d texted him and basically all he’d said was No problem, thinking takeout, any votes?, he’s coming through your front door with delivery bags and talking a mile a minute like it’s just another night, you're left with your mouth open and your hand on the knob, because… because he's here.

You're not cooking, but he's still here.

You just stand there gobsmacked as he sits on the couch, nattering away, half the food out before he even realizes you’re still playing doorstop. He asks if you’re having the time of your life or if you’re going to come sit down, those horrible (wonderful) crinkles at the sides of his eyes, brows pulled up in the middle.

He looks confused when you say you want to freshen up, like he can’t see that your hair might’ve lost a row with a feral rodent, or that you’re wearing clothes that shouldn’t even be outside of a bin, nevermind on a person. He just tells you the food will get cold, and that it’ll be no good that way.

So you run your hands through your hair and sit, subdued and uncertain like you haven’t been around him in ages, as he amiably fills the silence. You know he can tell you’re not right, but he’s just… acting like it’s ok that you aren’t.

Midway through the meal, he reaches forward to grab a container and put it in front of you, and it makes his knee come up against yours.

It doesn’t move away when he sits back.

Then, as the night wears on and the very most jagged edges of your weariness have eased, he makes a joke and you bump your shoulder into him in retaliation. It pushes your legs flush… and neither of you do anything to separate them. He just keeps on being Johnny like nothing is different, like nothing strange is happening, like he can’t see how bloody flushed you must be, like the room hasn't turned to glass and burst, leaving the both of you toppling through the air.

You're not stupid, so you have to tell yourself repeatedly that he’s just trying to comfort you. He’s acting completely normal otherwise—for Johnny—and you look like a person in need of a friend tonight. And same as him, you’re at all your meal nights instead of off with friends or dates. At least for him, it’s because of his career. You haven’t even seen him bringing up a new fling in ages.

…You’re not stupid. Right?

After the food is finished, Johnny putters about cleaning up, working his way around your kitchen like he knows it exactly as well as he does. He puts all but one container of leftovers in your fridge.

You hug your knees comfortably, just sort of watching him, too full of static to be paranoid about it, and he either doesn’t realize or isn’t bothered by it. Not being a complete creep, you don’t keep it up for too long, anyhow. You’ve got plenty to occupy your thoughts.

He surprises you on his way out by casually setting a mug in front of you. He’d made you something hot to drink while he was cleaning up, and you were so spaced you hadn’t realized. He just gives you a little smile, a gentle squeeze on the shoulder with a stroke of his thumb, says, “Wednesday, yeah?” (the night of your next normal get-together), and moves on toward the door. All normal. But there’s some metal in your chest painfully bending itself into unaccustomed shapes, jabbing places that aren’t used to the pressure, pushing into your windpipe until it’s hard to breathe, and you can’t stop yourself from telling him that you made up a new seasoning blend for popcorn, if he’d maybe like to watch a movie before he goes.

He stands there by the door looking at you just for a split second too long, opens his mouth, closes it, then settles right back onto the couch up next to you. He reaches out an arm and pulls you gently into his side, moving in a way that makes it an invitation and not a demand, while he’s talking about what to watch.

You fall asleep there. So does he.

Things turn a bit funny after that in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. At the surface, everything is the same. But nothing feels the same. Every time there’s a tease, casual touches, close quarters, you have to chant not stupid not stupid not stupid on repeat in your head. He’s just Johnny, that’s all. The guy you could have grown up with.

You keep up the dinners and the weekends, and eventually, finally realize that with him around to take all your extras, you can bake. It’s something you’ve wanted to try forever, but recipes don’t really make single servings, and you never had anyone to pawn off the other 22 muffins or ¾ of the cake onto, or the sheet of croissants, because you absolutely want to try the most fussy, difficult things. And it turns out, when at last he tells you what he does, that Johnny works at the local military base–which at least explains his size–so if he can’t polish something off, well, he knows some blokes.

You’re so excited after that, things almost seem to return to normal. He even comes over and hangs out while you’re baking sometimes. Just knocking about, licking the beaters and the spoons and the bowls, doing dishes as you go, fidgeting with this or that, all while knowing you’re equally as likely to produce something inedible as you are a treat.

Johnny tells you a little about his career one evening. He says that it means he’s in real danger often, there’s a lot of secrecy with people in his personal life, long absences and surprise ones, shit pay, and likely a brief expiration date. (You don’t really let that last one in). He’s got a bit of a funny look in his eyes when he shares about all of it. Quite focused on you, in a way? It makes your cheeks heat. It isn’t as if it’s on you to approve of his life.

But at least now you understand why he’s on his own. And you suppose you’re a bit small, because while you’re incredibly sad for him, part of you is thrilled that it means he’s not likely to be swept away by someone else too soon.

You just gather yourself up, smile, and tell him that at least he’s spending the time he has as best he can, which is a hell of a lot more than a lot of people do–although you personally hope there’s a lot more of it. And that… at the end, you're glad for all the times you're involved.

Johnny’s leaning against the counter while you fold nuts and rum-soaked fruit into a thick batter, his normally busy hands jammed into his pockets, posture a bit off, and so close you almost keep elbowing him on accident, the two of you just bantering back and forth.

You turn your head toward him to fire back, and–

–his mouth is just there, on yours.

He lingers, but doesn’t move otherwise. It’s… testing, you think. You feel his lips shake against yours, in fact, just once.

Your shock dies fast and your eyes slip closed, and while it’s a brief kiss, when he pulls away, you don’t open them. You can’t. Because if you’re honest, you’ve probably been gone for him since the first time you gave him a friendly hug goodnight, and it’s only ever gotten worse. If you open your eyes, this won’t be real, or it won’t have happened, or it will shatter somehow.

After a pause, he runs the back of a finger down your temple, trailing the side of your face to your jaw. You still won’t open your eyes, so he just toys with your face until you do.

He’s got a soul-crushing smile at the corners of his eyes.

“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” he admits into the quiet.

“...Oh?” Your voice is embarrassingly, unhelpfully breathy. It’d probably be mortifying, if you had the mental capacity to fully register embarrassment at the moment.

He pauses, smile making its way to his lips, and curling them up at the corners, bit by bit. He cants his head, just a little, like he wants to see you from another angle. “Aye. …Might’ve been since the first time I saw you at the mailboxes.”

“Oh?”

That had been one of the first times you remember ever seeing him. He never said a word to you other than, “Mornin’” or “Evenin’,” if he said anything at all.

His smile blooms until you can see his teeth. “You were wearing this little shirt. Green, thin. Bit worn, like it was a favorite. Showed a wee spot of skin at your back.” His fingers brush the spot, soft and testing, near the base of your spine, and it jolts you from scalp to toes. “Might’ve… lost some time, thinking about what it’d feel like if I slid my hand up there.” He toys with the hem of your shirt and steps in, voice going deeper and rougher around the edges. “Might’ve imagined pushing it up, getting a bit closer. Really might’ve imagined putting your back up to the slots, mo–”

You kiss him this time, before he can go on, and it’s anything but testing.

And just like everything else about him, this fits.

His mouth fits against yours. His body fits against yours. And as if some band of control snaps, so abruptly you swear you feel it jolt through his skin, he's got you up on the counter, his thighs between yours, both of you already breathing hard.

His hands on you are perfect, calloused, slipping up under the back of your shirt, smoothing and gripping, making your chest and your thighs feel molten. It's ravenous, like he just has to touch your skin, has to get you closer. You arch toward him, fingers running up through his hair, legs curling around his and pulling him nearer.

His hips are carefully, stubbornly, infuriatingly back from you, but the kiss is so full of need, so close, that some of his breaths sound hollow against your mouth. It's like he can't decide whether inhaling or devouring you is more important, so he just doesn't choose.

When you're at the point of moaning unintentionally, of hungry little sounds forcing their way out of your chest, of your hips moving against the counter in desperation, when you're moments from outright begging, Johnny pulls back, and goes further when you try to chase his mouth.

His lips are red and full, his face dark--much worse when he catches sight of how completely drunk you must look--and he's panting. His fingers dig into your hips like he's trying to keep one or both of you from drowning. He squeezes his eyes shut.

You don't mean to, you really don't, but you look down, and lord help you but–

“That looks painful,” you tell him. Your voice sounds like it's been run over a washboard. He's tented against his denim, and his size is… proportional.

…You can't seem to remember how to make yourself look up.

“Really rather not talk about my cock just now, love,” he gravels, fingers clenching briefly against you. His head tips forward onto your shoulder, breaths panting out against your collar bone, leaving you to pick up every bit of heat he's trying to get out of himself.

You hum, teasing. “Shame, because I can't think of anything I'd rather talk ab—”

His big paw covers your mouth. “For the love of every Saint, I’m beggi—”

You cut him off right back. By licking his palm.

He recoils in horror, but the moment your eyes meet, you both burst into laughter, made worse every time he tries to tell you how disgusting that is, something about his sisters as kids, you don't know what else.

You're the first to sober, breathing almost back to normal, thoughts already whirring on fast-forward. You look down, pulling your knees together, hands gripping the edge of the counter. “Are we…. Will we be ok, after this?”

You peek up to see him looking at you like you're daft.

“‘S been the better part of a year,” he says softly, moving forward and running his thumbs over your knees. Asking your legs to make room again, to let him get close again. “Have you really not figured it out, all this time?”

Your legs open hesitantly, and he steps in and, when you look up at him, kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, slow and warm and so tender it feels like your chest is cracking right down the center.

Eyes closed, brows a little pinched, you murmur, “We can't all be SAS savants, Johnny.” Maybe you know. Maybe. But it has been all this time, so maybe you need to hear it, too.

He's still kissing, pace unhurried and savouring, making his way to your jaw and just beneath it. But it's calming now, somewhere between reverential and still trying to bring the both of you down. Himself especially, you think.

“Then let me spell it out for you. Gladly.” He noses up against the bottom of your ear and roughs, “You are fucking stuck with me. Glued. Bloody welded.” He huffs a laugh and leans back upright—but not all the way, not too far back. “This isnae a new thing for me. You know that, right? I just….” He shakes his head and abandons the thought, “Hell, my mates have already been asking when they can come over for dinner, the dobbers.”

Your brows shoot up. “You've talked about me at work?”

He looks down, and while his face is in half a scowl, you'd swear he does it to hide a slight flush, too. “Haven't shut up about you, more like. Should hear what my Lieutenant– Ach, nevermind that.”

You hurry to say that they're welcome any time, but it makes him scowl fully.

“Not exactly keen on the idea just yet.” He puts his arms around you, buries his face in your neck, and just stands there, breathing you in. He mutters into the crook of your shoulder, “Mind if I stay like this for a bit? Just while I, uh… calm down.”

His hips are still well back from you. You’re not sure you’ve ever adored and hated him so much at once.

“I’d really like that,” you tell him softly, arms going around his ribs, hands on his shoulders, chest to chest.

It's warm and resounding like this, so after a spell, without thinking, you bite his shoulder. Just sink your teeth in and leave them there. It’s not even entirely conscious, it's just so comfortable and comforting.

“All good, there, wee piranha?” he eventually asks, a smile in his voice.

You detach instantly. “Ah, sorry! I, uh, might have a tiny bit of an oral fixation.”

He groans. “Are ye trying to do me in?”

“I’m not the one who said we had to stop, Mr. Military Discipline.”

His eyes darken in a flash, but he tamps down on it just as quickly and gets that godawful cocky look on his face, instead. “Pardon me for not wanting to rush something that really matters.” His tone goes so soft at the end that you can��t even be mad at him--exactly as you know he intended, the great bastard.

“How did I not know what a sadist you are?”

And that look means he’s about to make you eat your words.

“Johnny I will happily kill you in your sleep.”

“I could handle that. Means you'd be in my bed, aye?”

He pulls your hands up from the death grip they've found on the edge of the counter and laces your fingers together. “I dinnae….” He clears his throat, frowns. “Just being away on deployment is shite now, and I love what I do. But I miss you while I'm gone, think about you back here all the bloody time, and we havnae even….”

When he doesn’t finish, you whisper, heart clenching with the realization, “You really don't want to rush this.”

He laughs quietly like he wants to argue. But what he says is, “No. I don't. But while that's true….” He steps in, chin ducking, eyes darkening even as they shine, voice lowering. “What do you say we turn the oven off? I've a funny feeling you willnae be getting around to that bake today.”

Masterlist

#johnny soap mactavish #cod soap #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #johnny mactavish #slow burn #friends to lovers #060cod #meet cute #comfort fic #demisexual #fluff #johnny x reader #cod

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fastandcarlos · 5 months ago

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Soft Launch : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: follow along to see the journey of charles’ soft launch to reveal your relationship…

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 2,493,172 others

charles_leclerc: another week and another race, looking forward to heading to montreal with the team for another race ✈️

139,058 comments

username1: did you think you could just post those legs and we wouldn’t say anything??

arthur_leclerc: it’s taken you long enough to start dropping some clues 😂

oscarpiastri: @/arthur_leclerc this feels like something a member of the family would know about??

username2: is this a stupid way of telling us you’re in a relationship 🤔

landonorris: I’m not gonna leave you alone until you tell me all about this at the race just so you know

username3: no idea who the person is but I’m already insanely jealous that they got to rest their legs in your lap…

alex_albon: let’s all now guess what charles’ media questions are gonna be about this weekend 🤔

carlossainz55: and here I was thinking that I was the only love in your life 💔

charles_leclerc: @/carlossainz55 please don’t get jealous sweetie 💕

username4: please don’t go all soft launch on us leclerc 😭

username5: wishing it was me getting to fly around the world with you instead!

pierregasly: wait you’ve not just kept this a secret from the world but a secret from me too 😱

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liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and 2,038,604 others

charles_leclerc: I think these photos are what the cool kids call living my best life ☺️

127,431 comments

username6: I wonder if there’s a certain someone that’s suddenly made him live his best life!?

landonorris: you would never know you’ve never been cool in your life 😉

username7: you need to explain yourself mr leclerc!!!

olliebearman: we get it, you’ve got a girlfriend now, quit bragging 😂

username8: there are so many questions in my mind right now that need answering 😂

carlossainz55: 😊😊😊😊

username9: we should put a ban on soft launches they’re the cruelest things

maxverstappen1: that second photo you were secretly smiling at me across the media pen I’m sure!

charles_leclerc: @/maxverstappen1 whatever helps you sleep at night my friend

username10: you just know he’s absolutely loving the fact he knows he’s winding us all up rn too ☺️

oscarpiastri: as a cool kid, I can assure you that the cool kids have moved on from this phrase now 😝

username11: at least charles has finally realised that he’s not cool anymore 😂 danielricciardo: can’t believe you’ve finally decided to make our

relationship public!!

charles_leclerc: @/danielricciardo I just couldn’t hide my love for you any longer 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, arthur_leclerc and 2,473,081 others

charles_leclerc: somewhere new with someone new. life doesn’t get any better than this 🌴🌊

129,573 comments

username12: even from behind they look like such a good match 🥺

carlossainz55: I remember before you got a girlfriend and you used to go on holiday with me 😔

charles_leclerc: @/carlossainz55 forgetting like we’re not going away at the end of the season??

username13: how much longer does he plan on keeping these games up for!?

georgerussell63: I feel like a fan hanging on to find out more about your girlfriend too 😂

iamrebeccad: I want to meet her and tell her lots of embarrassing stories about you!!

username14: I want to hate him for doing this to us but it’s impossible…

pierregasly: I’d argue that life would be better if I was there with you guys too ☺️

username15: notice how there’s three beers, I wonder who else is with them??

lewishamilton: I refuse to believe you rode that bike in those jeans 😂

charles_leclerc: @/lewishamilton fashion first and comfort second 💯

username16: can we all agree if he doesn’t reveal soon we’ll all just unfollow and leave him to post to no one??

arthur_leclerc: not you leaving the family waiting like the fans to actually meet her properly 🙄

username17: have I ever told you charles how damn impatient I am??

alex_albon: nothing like impressing a new girlfriend with a holiday 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 2,493,072 others

charles_leclerc: introducing my beautiful girl to the beautiful sunsets that monaco has to offer 🌅

218,407 comments

username18: ofc charles would make it too dark so we can’t actually see her 😔

danielricciardo: this might be the most aesthetic group of photos I’ve ever seen from you!

charles_leclerc: @/danielricciardo I’ve been getting lessons from the best 🥺

username19: the way they look at each other I don’t need to see anymore to know they’re happy together!

maxverstappen1: you’ve got a girlfriend??? you should’ve mentioned it!

charles_leclerc: @/maxverstappen1 one day I’m gonna block you!

username20: I’m already in love I don’t need to be tormented anymore 😂

oscarpiastri: you gotta gimme some tips charles so I can up my game if these are the sorts of dates you’re organising

username21: im more jealous that she got to go on a boat date with him than anything else!!

lewishamilton: you guys are such a good couple, annoyingly adorable all weekend at the race

carlossainz55: told you a sunset was a good date idea 😉

username22: I hate how most of the drivers know about her now…they’re probably enjoying teasing us too 😭

landonorris: welcome back romantic charles leclerc, we missed you 💞

username23: what spy tricks is he using to be able to take her to races and have absolutely no one realise!?!?

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by maxverstappen1, pierregasly and 2,429,013 others

charles_leclerc: no one else I would rather adventure around the world with than you 🌎✨

189,472 comments

username24: ah we finally got a proper reveal, she’s stunning charles!!

landonorris: nothing like flexing just how strong you are for the gram 💪🏻

charles_leclerc: @/landonorris no problem for these guns 🔥

username25: look at how perfect they are together ✨

carlossainz55: feel like you’ve grown up right before my very eyes 🤧

maxverstappen1: I remember when you used to moan to me about how badly you wanted a girlfriend 😂

username26: the day we’ve waited for so long has arrived, goodbye soft launch era 👋🏻

georgerussell63: I along with all your fans thank you for finally giving us what we want 😂

alex_albon: you’ve become as soft as your launches with these captions of yours

username27: I’m officially obsessed with the two of them together omg

arthur_leclerc: stop gatekeeping your girlfriend and bring her home to all of us too!!

username28: I knew she was gonna be beautiful but this is something else 🥺

oscarpiastri: idk about that, I can take you on some pretty cool adventures too charles 😉

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari and 2,894,162 others

charles_leclerc: feeling beyond lucky to finally bring my girl to her very first podium and deliver a trophy back home with us too 🏆🏎️

249,482 comments

username29: we’re all so happy for you charles, congrats on the win!!

scuderiaferrari: congratulations charles, the whole team is so proud of you ❤️

username30: we finally get to see her in the paddock too this is so exciting 🥳

iamrebeccad: it was so lovely to finally meet her this weekend charles, you’ve got yourself a good one there!

charles_leclerc: @/iamrebeccad I don’t plan on letting her go anytime soon either 🥺

username31: okay can we officially agree that she’s a good luck charm and needs to be there forever!?

carlossainz55: can you leave your celebrations with her for when I’m out of my driver’s room please 🔇

charles_leclerc: @/carlossainz55 stfu we weren’t even doing anything 🙄

username32: that third photo was from when charles found her in the crowd…look at his little smile!

landonorris: thought we’d be nice and give you the win seeing as your girlfriend was there 😝

username33: that was an incredible drive charles, right back in contention for the championship 🎉

maxverstappen1: forgetting the part where ferrari steal your trophy and take it back to base with them 😂

pierregasly: no pressure now but she’s got high standards of you on race weekends!

username34: the way he ran over to her when he got outta the car, I can’t 😭

danielricciardo: huge drive my friend, I would say enjoy the celebrations but it sounds like you already are 🤫

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 2,583,203 others

charles_leclerc: introducing my angel to the family, safe to say she’s definitely got the seal of approval ✅

238,492 comments

username35: ahhh I can’t believe she met the fam, this must be serious!!

arthur_leclerc: we absolutely loved meeting her, you guys are the cutest 🥺

username36: they’re still all smiling so they must’ve loved her ☺️

carlossainz55: you’re family are adorable so ofc she fits right in 😂

username37: how could they not fall in love with her, she’s adorable!?

oscarpiastri: I don’t think she’s quite met all the family yet…has she??

charles_leclerc: @/oscarpiastri you’re not letting this go are you??

username38: finally arthur got exactly what he’s wanted for so long 🥺

username39: I’m so happy that this all went well, I’ve got a good feeling about these two…

landonorris: don’t remember you posting when she got our seal of approval 🤔

charles_leclerc: @/landonorris don’t remember you ever being as important as my family 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, pierregasly and 3,092,174 others

charles_leclerc: seeing as you guys have been thirsting over my girl for so long, I’ll finally give you what you want. a whole post dedicated to my love, isn’t she just perfect!? 💞✨

318,575 comments

username40: she really is perfect, you’ve got yourself a good egg charles!!

danielricciardo: I feel like a proud father seeing these photos 😭

username41: how dare he suggest we’ve been thirsting over her 😂

maxverstappen1: I don’t think it’s just the fans who have been thirsting (@/georgerussell63)

georgerussell63: @/maxverstappen1 no idea what you’re talking about 🤭

username42: charles always knows how to deliver exactly what we want!

pierregasly: thank goodness we don’t have to listen to you moan about being single anymore!!

username43: I don’t think charles could’ve found a more perfect girl if he tried…

carlossainz55: as much as it pains me to say it…you guys are pretty cute ❤️

username44: forever obsessed with these two and forever praying for more content from them too 🙏🏻

iamrebeccad: 10/10 agree that she is in fact perfect!

landonorris: you’d look cuter with me by your side, but I guess she’ll do 😂

username45: we hate you for soft launching but we love you for the fact that you’re just so happy 💕

ynusername: 🥺🥺🥺

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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iamred-iamyellow · 7 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Florida is One Hell of a Drug - [Part 2]

♥ prev | next

♥ series masterlist | main masterlist

♥ pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

♥ chapter two synopsis: lando hard launched his status as a girl dad, throwing all the fans into a loop. hopefully this visit to the miami gp will bring you closer two together as co-parents

♥ smau + written - fc: girls on pinterest + madison beer for paparazzi pics - none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing and suggestive jokes !!!

♥ a/n: I'm literally honored that y'all have been enjoying this series. sorry it took me so long to write this part/chapter!

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 483,557 more

lilyzneimer 🤍

comments are limited

alexandra_saintmleux she's so cute 🥺

logansargeant I'll take a babysitting shift 🙋‍♂️

oscarpiastri I'm the favorite uncle piss off

logansargeant chill damn

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

Things between you and Lando were still pretty awkward. After all, if someone asked the two of you the night you hooked up where you’d be in a year, a flight to Miami with your newborn baby would not be your answer. You didn’t trust him very much yet, but who could blame you? You expected him to do everything in his power to stay away from you and Camila. But here he was, flying the two of you out to watch him race. Lando really wanted to prove to you that he was all in. That he wasn’t going to take off running the minute things got hard for you two as co-parents.

You were extremely grateful that Oscar and Lily were on the same jet as you. This made the atmosphere not too uncomfortable. Lily was rocking Camila in her arms as her and Oscar talked a little about Mark Webber. You debated whether you should jump into their conversation after having an extensive f1 research night with your best friend the day before, but you decided to just sit in silence.

You caught Lando staring at you and let out a sigh. This was going to be a long flight.

He scanned the keycard to a nice suite in the same hotel the grid was staying in.

"This will be your room," he said, wandering inside. "Don't worry about where Camila will sleep, the hotel provided a crib."

"Thank you," you said genuinely. He was trying to be thoughtful.

"If you need anything, you have my number." Lando said before leaving the room.

You sat on the edge of your bed and pulled out your phone to check your notifications.

They already found you? And they thought you were a wag? Damn the paparazzi is quick.

liked by user2, user7, and 3,493 more

user6 I found y/n’s instagram before it went private. How is she so gorgeous?

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user8 I’m obsessed with herrrr

user12 she’s so aesthetic

user4 new favorite wag

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Race Day-

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

The last 20 laps of the race were driving you absolutely insane. You watched closely as Lando started to pull away from Max second by second. Your leg was shaking and you wondered why this was so nerve racking.

19 laps left. 18 laps left. 15 laps left. 10 laps left. 5 laps left.

1 lap left.

The crowd and garage erupted with cheers as Lando crossed the line in P1. You heard him screaming on the radio and couldn't help but smile. Lando Norris, the father of your daughter, is now a Formula 1 race winner.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, yourusername and 689,472 more

mclarenracingf1 P1 BOYSS

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user6 LANDO’S A GIRL DAD 😭

user8 his gf is so pretty

user10 SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

user5 babe wake up Lando just hard launched his status as girl dad

user7 HE'S NOT THE STEP DAD HE'S THE DAD THAT STEPPED UPP

user3 @/user7 PREACH

user2 never change, mclaren admin

user1 screaming, crying, throwing up

user9 lets go lando, lando is ok

user11 lets go lando, he is here to stay!!!

user4 he has a daughter 🥺

user12 my heart belongs to the dads of the grid

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Post Race Driver Reactions-

“Lando, great race. How does it feel to not only get your first win but have your daughter and partner here with you?"

“Oh uhm, she’s not my partner.” he pressed his lips together. “But, yeah it feels great. It’s been a long time coming but we finally got the win. I hope I made my daughter and the fans proud today.”

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, lilyzneimer, and 493,559 more

yourusername logan got me a bouquet 🥰 oh also oscar got camila some stuff too

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logansargeant @/oscarpiastri look who's the favorite uncle now

user7 please 😭

user4 the girls are fightinggg

user3 she made her account public again yay <3

user9 ok but that's so cute :(

user8 loscar as uncles >>>

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

You and Lando walked through the sliding doors of the 5 star hotel you were staying at.

"Some of the other drivers and I are gonna go out tonight if you'd like to come? I'm sure they wouldn't mind." he rubbed the back of his neck.

You nodded towards Camila who was in your arms as a silent "I have to take care of her."

He pulled his phone out quickly, “I’m sure I can find someone who can-”

“No, it's ok. Go enjoy yourself.” you said, shaking your head and pushing his phone back down. “Not too much, though. Don’t want you ending up with another unplanned kid.”

The comment took Lando aback but drew a laugh out of him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Congrats on your win.” you smiled, walking back to your room.

Later that night you laid down in your hotel room bed, scrolling through your feed. Dozens of pictures and videos of Lando popped up. Camila made a squealing noise in the portable crib beside you.

"I know, right?" you said to her with a laugh.

You stared at one picture that he looked particularly good in. You couldn't pretend like he wasn't attractive.

"Alright," you sighed, and placed your phone down. "Goodnight, mija." you leaned over, kissed her forehead, and switched off the bedside lamp.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

taglist; @hc-dutch, @papaya-twinks, @2pagenumb, @formulaal, @erin-odonnell04, @drunkinthemiddleoftheday, | @kissesandmartinis, @ironmaiden1313, @six-call, @wolflover384, @tremendousstarlighttragedy, | @ilivbullyingjeongin, @celestialend, @silentreader128, @wolflover384, @ellesssssxzxz | @clowngirlsstuff, @ln4smiamitrophy, @whoneedsgeorge, @chezmardybum, @warlike-morning, | @gigicisneros, @hard4ndsoft, @eveninggstar, @jolixtreesunn, @acesofspadess,| @formulaonebuff, @notpeachybby, @shesmugirl, @mxdi0, @ririyulife, | @kravitzwhore, @bellinghambby22, @helaenatargaryensfavoritebug, @maplesyrupsainz, @harrysdimple05, | @pippyth3hippy, @noneofyourfbusinessworld,

@littlegrapejuice, | @majx00, | @si1ver06

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goldfades · 28 days ago

Text

★ HARD LAUNCH ───JOE BURROW

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested by anon! kelce!sister x joe burrow, secret relationship.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | obviously, taylor swift MENTIONED!! cause of course, i just had to. big brothers jason/travis, teasing, overall fluffy read

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | this may be my new fav thing ever? having joe burrow, TAYLOR SWIFT, the kelces + kylie kelce in one family seems so fucking iconic and insane at the same time omg, i lowkey wanna make this a series

You don’t mean to catch his eye.

In fact, you’ve spent most of the evening trying very hard not to. At least, that’s what you’ll tell yourself later when the weight of it all feels too much, and you’re scrambling for a clean excuse to explain how it even started. Because that’s the thing about Joe Burrow—he’s not someone you plan for. He’s the unexpected storm on a clear day, knocking you off balance and leaving you to question if you’d ever been steady to begin with.

It’s Travis’s fault, really. Your brothers have this way of making themselves larger than life in every room they walk into, whether it’s Jason’s hearty laugh or Travis’s electric energy pulling people into his orbit. And you’re fine with it. Comfortable, even, in their shadows, where you can sip a beer, quietly people-watch, and dodge any unwanted attention. But tonight, at this NFL charity gala, the Kelce sibling spotlight is a little brighter, the event packed with athletes and reporters—people who know your last name. It’s harder to blend into the wallpaper, especially when you’re sandwiched between Jason’s dad jokes and Travis’s loud retelling of some outrageous offseason story.

And then there’s Joe. Sitting a few tables over, clad in a sleek black suit that fits him so well it’s borderline criminal, he looks… well, like Joe Burrow. Sharp jawline, blondish hair perfectly tousled, an air of calm confidence that somehow feels louder than any of the noise around him. He’s laughing at something—something Sam Hubbard said, probably—and you catch yourself staring just a second too long.

You’re not entirely sure who looks away first. All you know is that by the time the dessert plates are cleared and the speeches begin, you’re hyperaware of his presence. You can feel him across the room, like his attention is a physical thing brushing against your skin. It’s ridiculous, you tell yourself. He’s just... looking. It doesn’t mean anything.

Except it does.

It means everything when you’re stepping out onto the terrace for some air, your sleek, black and red YSL heels clicking softly against the stone, and you hear the door open behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know it’s him. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, a tension pulling taut like a string, and you’re suddenly grateful for the cool night air because your skin feels impossibly warm.

“You’re one of the Kelces, right?” His voice is low, a little rough around the edges, and somehow more disarming than you expected.

You glance over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Depends. Do you think that’s a good thing or a bad thing?”

He chuckles, stepping closer. There’s a deliberateness to his movements, like he’s not the type to rush but always knows exactly where he’s going. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Fair.” You turn fully now, leaning back against the railing. He’s even more striking up close, the sharp lines of his face softened by the golden glow of the terrace lights. For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. Then, because your brothers raised you to never back down from a challenge, you smirk. “And you’re Joe Burrow. Didn’t think you’d need an introduction.”

“I don’t. But I’m still glad we’re having this conversation.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the small laugh that escapes. “Do lines like that usually work for you?”

“Don’t know,” he says, leaning casually against the railing beside you. “You tell me.”

And just like that, you’re hooked. Not in the obvious way, where fireworks explode and violins play in the background. It’s subtler than that, a slow burn you feel deep in your gut—like the start of something you shouldn’t want but can’t seem to resist. Because Joe Burrow isn’t the kind of guy you go looking for, but now that he’s found you, you’re not sure you want him to let go.

And a few months later, the relationship between you and Joe isn’t just an open secret—it’s become a storm of speculation. The internet sleuths had started piecing things together long before either of you admitted it, thanks to vague Instagram posts, overlapping locations and that one time someone spotted you in the background of a Bengals training camp photo.

Still, you’ve both remained tight-lipped, dodging questions and letting the rumors simmer on their own. It’s worked so far, but keeping something like this under wraps when your last name is Kelce and his is Burrow? It feels impossible most days.

The rumors, though, are front and center when Jason and Travis bring it up on New Heights. It starts innocently enough—one of their usual tangents about social media chaos. But then Jason, ever the instigator, leans in with a mischievous grin.

“So, Trav,” he says, dragging it out just enough to make Travis squint suspiciously. “What’s this I’m hearing about our baby sister and a certain quarterback?”

Travis groans dramatically, throwing his head back like he’s already tired of the conversation. “Man, here we go.”

“No, no, seriously,” Jason presses, laughing. “It’s all over Twitter. ‘Joe and the Kelce Sister’—people are going crazy.”

Travis tries to deflect, muttering something about people needing hobbies, but Jason isn’t letting it go.

“I mean, listen,” Jason continues, grinning directly at the camera now. “I’m not saying I believe it, but if it were true… Joe Burrow? Not a bad pick, kid. Not a bad pick.”

Travis finally gives in, throwing up his hands. “Alright, alright! Let’s settle this once and for all.” He swivels toward the camera with exaggerated seriousness. “Get her on the phone.”

The producers, who are clearly loving this, cut to a break while Travis pulls out his phone and FaceTimes you. You answer after a couple of rings, your face appearing on screen with a mix of amusement and mild annoyance.

“What do you want?” you ask, already bracing yourself.

Jason wastes no time. “Alright, tell the people: are you or are you not dating Joe Burrow?”

You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh. “Seriously? That’s why you called me?”

“Yes, seriously!” Jason says, leaning forward like he’s trying to peer through the phone. “I need to know if I should be worried about a potential Bengals-Kelce family feud.”

“I’m not even answering that,” you say, shaking your head. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Okay, okay,” Travis cuts in, holding up his hands. “But just… hypothetically, if you were dating him, what would you say about the guy? Like, first impressions.”

You narrow your eyes at the screen, knowing exactly what he’s trying to do. But you can’t help it—you smirk, your tone deliberately nonchalant. “I mean, hypothetically… he’s not a bad-looking person.”

Both brothers lose it, Jason practically howling with laughter while Travis points dramatically at the camera. “Not a bad-looking person!” he repeats. “That’s all we’re getting?”

You shrug, keeping your expression as deadpan as possible. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Alright, fine,” Jason says, wiping his eyes. “We’ll let you off the hook for now. But just know, we’re watching.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you hang up. But the damage is done—the clip is bound to go viral within hours. And you know the internet will analyze every single word you just said, dissecting it for confirmation that, yes, Joe Burrow and a Kelce sibling are absolutely a thing.

As you sit back on your couch, phone buzzing with texts from friends who caught the livestream, you can’t help but wonder how long you and Joe can keep this secret before it all inevitably comes spilling out. But for now, you smile to yourself, thinking about the way Joe teased you about your brothers earlier that morning. He’d probably find this whole thing hilarious.

—

The off-season brings a rare stretch of peace for both you and Joe, a time when the usual chaos of his schedule fades into long days and quiet nights. You’d been looking forward to the annual Kelce family lake trip all year, a week of boat rides, bonfires, and general shenanigans with your brothers, their partners, and a rotating cast of nieces and nephews. But this time, Joe is here too, woven seamlessly into the fabric of your family life in a way that's both surreal and comforting.

The trip itself is perfect. Joe is surprisingly great at keeping up with the Kelce energy—he plays cornhole with Travis like they’ve been doing it for years, listens patiently to Jason’s never-ending dad stories, and even lets your mom convince him to try her "world-famous" potato salad (a task not taken lightly). Your dad, famously hard to impress, quietly declares Joe "a good kid," which might as well be a five-star review.

The vibe is even more electric this year, thanks to a certain high-profile addition to the Kelce orbit: Taylor Swift. She’d tagged along with Travis, her easy charm and megawatt presence somehow blending seamlessly with your loud, loving family. Taylor and Joe hit it off surprisingly well—you’d caught them once, deep in conversation about some indie band neither of them expected the other to know. And when Taylor found out Joe was a secret Swiftie, she’d teased him mercilessly, promising to quiz him on song lyrics over dinner.

The two of you have been careful so far, sticking to the usual boundaries when phones are out and cameras are snapping. But then comes the moment. The hard launch.

You don’t know he’s planning it. It’s Joe, after all—calm, collected, never one to do anything impulsive without a hundred layers of thought. The picture goes live on his Instagram late in the afternoon, just as the sun is starting to dip below the trees.

The photo is subtle in that effortless, Joe Burrow way, but anyone with eyes can see what it is. It’s a snapshot of the dock, golden light reflecting off the water. You’re sitting with your back to the camera, legs dangling off the edge, wearing an oversized Bengals hoodie that could only belong to one person. Joe’s in the frame too, though only partially—just his legs stretched out next to you, and his hand resting casually on your knee. There’s no caption, just the kind of emoji Joe loves to use, simple and vague—a single wave 🌊

The internet explodes.

You realize it’s out when your phone starts buzzing nonstop, notifications lighting up your screen like fireworks. Group texts, Instagram DMs, Twitter tags—everyone and their mom has an opinion about the post. Your brothers are the first to call.

Joe wanders into the kitchen then, shirtless and still damp from a swim, his hair curling slightly from the lake water. He raises an eyebrow when he sees you on the phone, and you wave him over, switching to speaker.

“Speaking of,” Jason says loudly. “Joey! Nice post, buddy.”

Joe smirks, leaning casually against the counter. “Thanks. Figured it was time.”

“Time?!” Travis is howling now. “You just dropped the most casual ‘we’re dating’ announcement of all time, and all you’ve got is ‘figured it was time’?”

Joe shrugs, unbothered. “Seemed like the right vibe.”

Jason sighs dramatically. “Well, congrats, I guess. You’re officially one of us now.”

“Welcome to the family,” Travis chimes in, still laughing. “But just know, you’re never gonna live this down.”

Joe grins, glancing at you, his expression softening. “I can handle it.”

Later that night, as the two of you sit by the fire, Taylor strumming a guitar nearby while your brothers argue about s’mores ratios, your phone buzzes intermittently with notifications. You can’t help but marvel at how unshaken Joe is by all of it. He just laughs when you bring it up, pulling you closer and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Let them talk,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ve got nothing to hide anymore.”

And as the fire crackles and your family’s laughter drifts through the night, you realize he’s right. The world knows now, and somehow, it doesn’t feel scary—it feels freeing.

#nfl fic #nfl football #joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x oc

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inkinflux · 2 months ago

Text

Raising the Mast

Viktor x f!Reader | 1.1k | 18+ You give Viktor a ride home from an event, knowing from experience that he won't be able to keep his hands off you for long. 🚫 I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫

The carriage back to the Academy was pleasant enough, the cobblestones only causing a minor bump here and there as you traversed through the wealthiest district of Piltover.

“I can’t say I’m familiar with the sensation. The call for adventure,” Councilor Shoola carried your polite conversation. “However my wife is a different story. She goes sailing every weekend. I tried to join her once but got terribly seasick. Never again.”

You gave a soft laugh in response, your posture relaxed and open. The same could not be said for the man sitting next to the Councilor, his body turned to the window, cane cradled between his legs.

“I was lucky to never have gotten seasick during my sailing days. However, I’m not the most graceful sailor. One day when raising the sails a gust of wind caught me off guard and I got knocked overboard by the mast.”

Shoola cackled at that.

Viktor cast a side-glance at you, and you would’ve thought he was judging you if not for the amused smirk he was trying to hide.

“You must meet my wife. Perhaps tea, sometime soon? We’d love to host you.”

You smiled. “That sounds nice.”

The carriage pulled to a stop, and Shoola glanced out the window. The carriage stood outside of a mansion made of luxurious marble pillars framed by golden gates.

“This is me,” she said, standing. “It was lovely catching up with you, (Y/n).” She side-stepped the man beside her as she reached for the door. “Viktor,” she said by way of farewell.

The carriage shook slightly as she stepped out, and the driver closed the door behind her. There was a terse silence until it started rolling again.

Viktor continued watching the streets pass from the window. You slid your foot forward, nudging his.

“Did you have a good night?”

Viktor looked at you with barely concealed fatigue. “Of course not.” Despite his cold response, he lifted his foot, capturing yours underneath. You bit back a smile.

“What, you don’t enjoy hearing rich people talk about their breweries and boats?”

It had been a party celebrating the launch of a new beer brand. Viktor had been Jayce’s plus one, and you were always a permanent fixture on any guest list thanks to your status.

Viktor sat up, emphatically gesturing with his cane. “I would have enjoyed it more if it had ended with the securing of another Hextech investment.”

You leaned forward, “And how would you have swung this one, had you gotten it? ‘Yes, see here, the new HexScythe, made for ploughing the fields at an exceptionally accelerated rate-” You giggled as Viktor reached out, trying to cover your mouth with his hand and cease your accent-heavy impression of him. “-proven to increase wheat yield tenfold for all your beer brewing needs.”

“I do not sound like that,” he muttered.

“You’re right,” you replied breathlessly, seizing his wrist, “I give a much better sales pitch than you.”

Viktor’s eyes darkened with a challenge. He spun his wrist, instead capturing yours, bringing the back of your hand to his lips.

“Perhaps this is true,” he spoke low, placing a gentle kiss, “Or perhaps it is not the words that matter, but the person who speaks them.” Your body gave an involuntary shiver as Viktor looked at you from underneath his eyelashes and turned your hand over. “I’m certain you could have just about anyone eating from the palm of your hand.”

He sunk his teeth into the soft swell of your palm. This dance of modesty became shorter each time.

Viktor flipped his cane, slotting the handle behind your back and tugging you to the edge of your seat, capturing your lips in an open-mouthed kiss. He kissed with a ferocity that hinted he’d been waiting for this all night.

Pushing his knee between your thighs, he moved closer, dropping his cane to place a firm hand behind your neck, urging you towards him with a gentle pull.

You parted for a second to move on top of him, and in the same moment a helpful bump in the road had you landing in his lap, your legs spread atop him.

Viktor wasted no time in chasing your lips again, his mouth hot and just as greedy as his hands.

One of which slid up your back, fingers reaching into your hair before sharply tugging your head back, affording him the perfect expanse of your delicious throat. Viktor bit down on your hammering pulse, like flicking a switch that had your muscles tensing.

His skillful hands played your body like a symphony, directing with rough touches down your waist, thumbs digging into the divots of your hips, encouraging you to move against him.

You obliged, earning a moan stifled against your neck. You ground your hips in a fluid motion, ignoring how his leg brace dug into the back of your thigh.

Viktor ceased his incessant biting to watch you for a moment. You pressed a steadying hand to his chest, feeling the erratic thumping of his heart beneath. His gaze was wicked as he devoured you with his eyes.

It made you shiver.

He grabbed hold of your chin, pulling your face down to his, your noses bumping and laboured breaths mingling.

“Next time, let’s skip the parties, hm?” He suggested before kissing you once more. “It will save us from waiting to reach the part we both enjoy most.”

“And lose the opportunity to flirt with you in front of all my rich peers?” you grinned, eating the sounds your rolling hips elicited. “Are you kidding?”

Viktor huffed a laugh, his eyes unfocused and his cheeks flushed. “That part is pretty satisfying. If only for the soul.”

You nipped at his jaw, nuzzling under his ear. Viktor groaned as the fabric between you grew uncomfortably warm, his short nails digging into your waist, pulling you down against him as he chased more friction.

“You trying to tell me this isn’t good for your soul?” You teased.

Viktor panted, “Quite the contrary. Hmph.” His head fell back, eyes cast down at your exposed thighs as your skirt rode up. He pushed the hem further up, the touch leaving goosebumps on your legs. “I think my mast has pushed you overboard, hm?” he commented, rubbing his thumb along the damp spot between your legs.

You bit your lip as his touch started circling that sweet spot, losing your rhythm as he bent forward, sinking his teeth into your collarbone.

“Please,” you begged, pushing him away from your sufficiently-marked neck, “No nautical-themed innuendos tonight.”

Viktor laughed.

“No promises.”

#viktor #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane #league of legends #writing #arcane fanfiction

746 notes · View notes

piastrixpole · 3 months ago

Text

ménage à trois - pierre gasly & kika gomes

pairing: pierre gasly x kika gomes x fem!engineer

genre: smau

faceclaim(s): madison beer, pinterest girls

f1gossip just posted

liked by user4, user10 and 130,000 others

Trouble in paradise for our favourite Frenchman?🚗💨Spotted after the Brazilian GP getting cosy with a mystery brunette who is not his girlfriend 👀 Sources say the two were all over each other in the club and left together later that night

user1: I feel so bad for Kika, she was there supporting him! 💔

user2: Messy, messy, messy. I need to see how he explains this 👀

user3: I can’t believe he’d do this while she’s right there! She deserves better

user4: Can't believe he'd cheat on a baddie like Kika

user5: Someone find out who she is, we need answers ASAP!

->user6: maybe it's just me but it kind of looks like yn ln!

user5: his engineer? nurse she's out again

twitter

yourusername just posted!

liked by pierregasly, fransisca.cgomes, alpinef1team and 93,547 others

Te amo Brasil! So proud of Pierre and our first podium together! 🏆 Here’s to many more 🫶✨

pierregasly: Merci, Yn!! Best engineer around 👏🏆 I couldn’t have done it without you!

->yourusername: all you mon ami, can't wait to do it again

->user45: are we all seeing this right now? kika get behind me

user12: You’re seriously posting this after the rumours??

user 20: She really has no shame...posting kika as well like she didn't get with her man

francisca.cgomes: Proud of you both!! Well deserved

->yourusername: thank you my love

->user13: this is insane HELLO? not her acting like kika's bsf when she hooked up with pierre

user37: This is messy but I kinda live for it 😳

user17: I'm so disappointed in yn for this! She was such an icon for us aspiring girls in motorsports and then she does this

user2: Imagine being Kika and seeing this post after the gossip 😭

user5: Girl… you know we all caught you on f1gossip, right? 😬

user29: Homewrecker

messages

fransisca.cgomes posted a story!

[image 1: ☺️ ] [image 2: gorgeous @yourusername]

yourusername replied: te amooo kiks missing you both so much

->francisca.cgomes: we miss you more angel

yourusername posted a story!

[image1: cute date kinda nervous] [image2: ❤️]

Fanbehaviour pod just uploaded:

Yn Ln on Working in F1, Engineering and her relationship with Pierre Gasly and Kika Gomes

twitter

pierregasly just posted!

liked by yourusername, francisca.cgomes, charlesleclerc and 530,987 others

guess the rumours are true...just not in the way you thought they're both my girls

yourusername: love youuu

->pierregasly: my smart girl je t'aime

francisca.cgomes: love you and our girl so much

->pierregasly: And I’m the luckiest to have you both. ❤️👑 Mon coeur et mon amour

charlesleclerc: mate how did you end up with two girls out of your league

->pierregasly: obviously my charm and good lucks

->yourusername: nah it was the tripod😋

->francisca,cgomes: agreed

user20: THROUPLE HARD LAUNCH. I’m screaming, they really did that!

user23: Wait, I love this for them?

user19: Kika the ultimate wag

user 35: I didn’t expect this but… I support it. As long as you’re all happy!

francsica.cgomes just posted!

liked by pierregasly, yourusername, alexandrasaintmleux and 123,746 others

the ultimate wag

yourusername: te amo lindaaa🤤

->francisca.cgomes: lindinha🥰

pierregasly: my girls

->francisca.cgomes: forever yours meu amor

alexandrasaintmleux: the cutest couple!

user42: obsessed with this hard launch

user35: this is so wholesome 😭

user93: I did not expect this season to give me my new favourite relationship, but here we are

user16: what a plot twist but i stan this power trio

user67: How is it possible for one couple to be THIS perfect?

user48: sleeping on the motorway tonight when is it my turn😫

yourusername just posted!

liked by pierregasly, francisca.cgomes, yourbsf and 59,870 others

Three’s a crowd? Only if you’re not invited. 😉❤️

pierregasly: love you!! even if i can't keep my hands off you ever

->yourusername: i'd go through it again to have you and kiks💗

francisca,cgomes: that's my wifey🤭

->yourusername: put a ring on it baby💋

yourbsf: Finally i couldn't go much longer without fighting someone on your behalf

->yourusername: i adore you

user89: Now THIS is what we call a power move

user76: f1gossip found dead in a ditch

#abby's writing #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #poly f1 fic #poly f1 #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly #pg10 #kika gomes #kika gomes x reader #pierre x kika x reader

630 notes · View notes

muniimyg · 4 months ago

Text

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!yoongi (1) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist

note: omg !!! written for the 1st part cos i need to set the MOOD. hope u guys love it <3 i'm super hungover and this fic idea helped me recover buwhauhaa. pls give this new bbydady couple lots of love !

warnings: rawdogging, dirty talk, impregnation kink, daddy kink, creampie !

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo @ddanasjk @luvismenu @remgeolli @parapiop7 @lil0u0 @crazyovayou @mggv97 @thvgukk @rpwprpwprpwprw

the sound of laughter and chatter spills into the hallway as you and hyemi hurry toward yoongi’s condo. as you balance a large steaming dishes in your arms, the tantalizing aroma of the main course wafts behind you two.

“how much shit do you think they’re gonna give me for being 45 minutes late?” you ask, glancing sideways at hyemi.

she adjusts the way she holds the 2 bottles of wine to knock on the door. they clink together as she answers you;

“they can eat shit,” hyemi laughs. “you know everyone starved themselves today for your food, right?”

just then, jin answers the door.

he greets you both, taking the meals from your arms. as you step inside, you hear everyones laughter and conversations clearer. nam joon’s earnest chatter with yoongi and hobi, jin calling taehyung to help him in the kitchen, and jungkook annoying jimin.

yoongi’s condo is filled with balloons and decorations celebrating their clinic’s launch, and the scent of various appetizers danced in the air. everyone is sprawled around the spacious living room, drinks in hand and smiles on their faces. everyone is in their own clothes and it feels strange to see them without their scrubs… not to mention; all together.

it feels surreal to think they’re all celebrating the launch of their private clinic.

the dream they had worked so hard to achieve.

the dream they deserve to have become a reality.

“finally!” nam joon cries out. he makes his way to you two, greets you, and then pulls hyemi into a hug. they exchange a quick kiss before wrapping her in his arms and turning to you. “thought you were gonna bail on us.”

you roll your eyes at him.

“how is it that you’re a doctor but always make it out like i’m busier than you?”

nam joon shrugs. “you’re a chef. that shits just as hard.”

“it’s not medical school,” you argue. “but i appreciate the recognition of my career choice… are you sucking up to me because you're hungry?”

nam joon puts his hands up.

“you can’t be the chef of our friendgroup and expect us not take advantage of it.”

you share a look with hyemi.

“joon, i’m expecting full free health care from you as payment for all the times i’ve fed you. from all the times i’ve fed all of you—”

jimin and jungkook raise their beer cans at you.

“yah! you’re the reason my body gets enough protein—”

as the group gathers around yoongi’s dining table, the atmosphere buzzes with excitement and camaraderie.

you’re in the kitchen, finishing the last touches on the meal you’ve prepared. you spent the entire day crafting this feast, and satisfaction blooms in your chest, especially with your final dish—a beautifully plated coq au vin, featuring tender chicken simmered in rich red wine, mushrooms, and pearl onions, all nestled together like a cozy family.

“dinner is served!” you announce.

as you approach the table, you scan for a seat or space for yourself. just as your gaze flits around, yoongi catches on and instantly stands up, his demeanor relaxed yet attentive. he gestures for you to take his seat.

“sit here. i’ll grab a chair from the living room,” he says, his voice calm and sure.

“it’s okay. i can—o-oh. wait—” you start, but before you can finish, yoongi is already striding toward the living room, his movements effortless. he returns, chair in hand, setting it down beside your spot and patting the seat next to him with a casual invitation.

your eyes meet for a moment, and the world around you fades as you hold his gaze, warmth blooming in your chest.

you smile and sit beside him.

“everything looks amazing, by the way,” yoongi leans in to whisper into your ear. “thank you for cooking for us tonight.”

he places his hand a little above your knee, a light touch that sends a thrill through you.

your heart skips for a moment, and just before it can race, he pulls his hand away.

“alright, everyone! before we dive in, let’s raise our glasses…” nam joon declares, lifting his glass of wine high. “here’s to our hard work and dedication. i can’t imagine being in this field of work without you guys… we did it! we have our own private practice. cheers!”

“cheers!” everyone echoes, their glasses clinking together.

as the group begins to serve themselves, you watch them dig into the coq au vin, anticipation swirling in your stomach. carefully, you observe their expressions transform after the first bite. jin and hobi’s eyes widen in delight, jungkook scrunches his face in exaggerated anger, while jimin and taehyung slump back in their chairs, clearly taken aback. hyemi and nam joon share a knowing look, and yoongi tilts his head, a small smile gracing his lips.

“holy shit, ___."

“you’ve outdone yourself.”

“i’m so glad i was skinny today… i have extra room in my pants to eat everything here,” jungkook moans. “fuck, ___. let me know when you wanna get married.”

everyone chokes on their food. from the corner of your eye, you watch for yoongi's reaction. he doesn't make a face or say anything. instead, he continues to eat and ignore jungkook's childish comment.

then, as you look away, you catch the way his grip tightens around his fork and knife.

puffing your cheeks, you turn your attention back to the group.

"marriage? you know i want a baby,” you huff, half-joking but with a hint of truth. "fuck, i want a baby so bad."

hyemi rolls her eyes. “we’ve been known.”

the baby fever you have is no secret to your friend group; it’s been a running joke since the beginning of time. with every glimpse of a baby in a stroller or at the mall, to the endless stream of baby videos shared in the group chat—everyone knows. the irony is that you’re simply too busy to have one. work takes most of your time, and you’re barely into dating, yet the baby fever lingers, woven into your very being. like how some people are just meant to be moms? that’s you.

everyone bursts into laughter, their playful jabs surrounding you like a warm blanket. everyone except for yoongi. he stays quiet, stealing a glance your way, a slight crease in his brow as he observes.

as you begin to eat, yoongi bumps shoulders with you, the casual touch sending a small jolt through your side.

“___,” he starts, his voice low and teasing. “i might have to request a cooking lesson. your food is too good.”

you bump shoulders back, a smirk playing on your lips. “don’t you cook?”

“not like this. not like you.”

you scoff lightly, shaking your head. “sure, i’ll accept your cooking lesson request… but only if you pay for the ingredients.”

he leans back in his chair, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes.

then, he places his hand on your upper thigh again. this time, he squeezes it.

your heart begins to race.

yoongi’s soft gaze shifts toward you, the confident glint in his eyes paired with a playful smile.

“sure, ___. whatever you want.”

once dinner is finished and the dishes are cleared, everyone gathers around the living room. hobi puts on a movie, but the flickering screen fades into the background as everyone spreads out. jungkook is lounging on the couch, flanked by jimin and taehyung, who are playfully bickering. on the opposite end, nam joon and hyemi are cuddled together. meanwhile, hobi, jin, you, and yoongi are settled on the floor, engaged in a mindless card game. there's an easy banter flowing between you all.

“honestly, i don’t think i’ve fully processed it yet,” jungkook admits, scratching his head with a sheepish grin. “guys… we have our own fucking practice. we’re so adult.”

taehyung’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans back against the couch. “well, since we’re all adults now, let’s celebrate like we did back then—with something childish.”

jimin’s eyes light up at the suggestion.

“oh, i know exactly where this is going.”

yoongi rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance, but a small smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. he puts his cards down and turns to taehyung and jimin.

“you guys can’t seriously be suggesting truth or dare.”

suddenly, everyone sits up.

“why not?” hyemi teases, nudging namjoon. he sits up, suddenly interested. “awh, we used to play that all the time! let’s use a wine bottle for the questions and shots for the skipping.”

“yes, let’s do it!” taehyung chimes in, bouncing slightly in excitement. “might as well go all in.”

as the group settles into the idea, everyone sprawls on the living room floor, cushions scattered around them.

the movie playing in the background has been completely forgotten. you head to the kitchen to grab a wine bottle, along with a few shot glasses, and return to find your friends buzzing with anticipation.

with a grin, you place the bottle in the center of the circle, pouring shots for everyone as you settle next to jungkook and hyemi.

“whose going first?”

“i will,” nam joon says, and with a determined flick of his wrist, he spins the bottle. it lands on jungkook. with a playful grin, nam joon asks, “jungkook, truth or dare?”

“dare,” jungkook replies confidently, puffing out his chest.

“i dare you to text an ex and say you miss them.”

jungkook’s confidence wavers for a brief moment. his bravado fades. “t-truth! i pick truth—”

“boo!” everyone hollers, giving him a few playful hits.

defeated but laughing, he pulls out his phone and reluctantly types the message. as the sound of the text being sent echoes through the room, cheers erupt from his friends.

“who’d you text?” jimin asks, curiosity bubbling over.

“your mom,” jungkook quips with a smirk.

jin snorts before breaking into laughter. jungkook raises his hands in surrender. “you guys said you wanna be childish? fine by me!”

the game continues, laughter and playful banter filling the air. after a few more rounds, jimin finally gets a chance to spin the bottle, his excitement palpable.

it lands on yoongi.

jimin grins, the tension in the room shifting into something playful. “alright, yoongi, you’re up. truth or dare?”

“truth,” yoongi replies, his expression cool but his eyes glinting with intrigue.

“okay,” jimin says, his voice laced with mischief as he shoots a devilish glance around the room. “if you could sleep with anyone in the world with no consequences, who would it be?”

laughter erupts, mingling with the muffled sounds of the movie. yoongi holds jimin’s gaze for a moment, and you notice his eyes flicker to you, almost imperceptibly.

the moment is fleets but it's lingers in your heart the moment he looks away.

without a word, yoongi lifts his glass and takes a shot instead, opting for silence.

“shit…” taehyung gasps, breaking the tension. “is it me?”

as the laughter continues, you look forward and meet yoongi's eyes. he clears his throat and turns away. for a moment, you think;

shit.

it's me.

the night goes on with more playful dares and laughs, but as it winds down, everyone soon heads out the door. hyemi and nam joon hug you goodbye as you gather your cooking equipment. once they leave, yoongi walks into the kitchen, surprised to see you still there.

you two are alone.

when you two are alone… things change. you aren’t sure how to describe the feeling or the exact shift in atmosphere… but it’s there. it happens and there’s always this lingering silence that suffocates you. it’s not uncomfortable, it’s rather… daring.

though it’s unspoken, you two find difficulty in ignoring the loud bells.

maybe it was the way yoongi’s gaze lingers on you when you aren’t looking. how he traces the curve of your smile and the way you tuck your hair behind your ear. or how your eyes light up an entire city when someone compliments your food.

truth be told, yoongi's crush on you is like a steady and familiar presence. something he could never quite shake.

not when you two first met.

not when you dated 3 guys in a row and got fucked over each time.

not when you go through baby fever so bad you cry about it like it’ll never happen to you.

yoongi notices things about you that others don’t. like the way you chew your lip when you’re in deep thought or before you admit to something. how you have a specific laugh for different levels of things you find funny.

whatever it is; it just remains as it is.

over the years of being friends with you, there were obvious times he thought about closing that space between you two… but something kept him from doing it. maybe it’s the group dynamic, or simply the fear that you didn’t feel the same.

“sorry, you must be tired. i’ll be out of here in a bit—”

“you’re still here?” yoongi teases.

you roll your eyes at him.

“unfortunately.”

“no, no,” yoongi insists. “take your time. did you drive? or are hyemi and joon waiting for you downstairs?”

“i drove and picked up hyemi. she’s sleeping at joon’s tonight so they left.”

yoongi shifts closer to you, beginning to help you pack up. he looks through his cupboard and finds a bag for you to put all your containers in. when you finish packing up, he takes the bag and walks you to the door.

“so… no answer to that truth question, huh?" you tease, raising an eyebrow. "didn't take you for a pussy."

yoongi chuckles softly, looking down briefly before meeting your eyes. “wouldn’t have been much of a game if i gave it away that easily."

“but that’s the literal point of playing truth or dare and choosing truth.”

he scoffs, “for a chef, you’re a big know-it-all… you know that?”

"come on, yoongi," you inch closer to him. “was it really taehyung?”

he pauses, unamused.

"you really want to know?"

you nod, curious but also feeling your heart pick up just a little. your cheeks might flush in a few seconds too.

yoongi leans in slightly.

"fine. it was you."

your eyes widen, unsure how to react to his confession. it surprises you but it’s also such a weird feeling to get this confirmation… you feel warm inside.

you feel butterflies.

attempting to keep your voice steady, you ask; "me?"

yoongi shrugs, keeping it casual though his steady and sincere gaze. "guess you just… crossed my mind. more than once. i don’t know. sorry if this makes you think of me differently—”

a beat.

“no,” you blink. “i… if jimin had asked me the question i would’ve answered the same.”

yoongi tilts his head.

“answered it like what?”

you chew your bottom lip.

just as you gather the courage to make your confession, yoongi drops your things, steps towards you and places his arm around your waist. he doesn’t waste a second.

he pulls you in—

yoongi kisses you for the first time.

“holy fucking shit—” yoongi hisses in between your legs. “you taste so good, ___.”

you lift your head and watch him.

yoongi’s head bobs up and down. you fight the urge to squeeze your legs together as you feel the texture of his tongue brush the insides of your fold. you feel him spit on your clit and suck on it. when he does this, it gives you no choice but to grab a handful of his hair.

you moan.

yoongi smirks, loving the way you’re reacting. you feed his ego more than he ever anticipated you to. it’s so special to him.

as yoongi finishes eating you out, he shifts his body on top. softly, he runs the back of his hand from your waist to your ankles. he takes one of them and puts it over his shoulder. you shuffle, getting more comfortable in his bed.

“you’re really pretty,” he blurts. “i.. uh, i really like you in this position.”

you blush, tightening your lips.

“t-thanks,” you say a little awkwardly. there’s a silence between you two as the literal position begins to sink in your head. “are we g-going to…”

yoongi’s soft gaze cuts short. “oh. shit, yeah. sorry, you… you just distracted me.”

you can’t help but laugh.

“you’re about to fuck me and you’re saying my face is distracting you?”

he shrugs.

“you have nice tits too.”

he grabs them without warning. squeezing them, you laugh a little louder. then, he slaps them and a small gasp escapes your lips.

“shit. let me get a condom—”

you shift and shake your head at him. you bite your bottom lip, you offer him a sincere look.

“i… i don’t sleep with people that often. i know you’re a doctor and all but i—”

yoongi chuckles.

“fuck, do you have an impregnation kink?” he pieces it all together. “i mean, no shit… and i’m okay with fucking you raw. i haven’t slept with anyone in like, 2 years—”

“what?” you ask in disbelief.

yoongi is hot. he's a fucking dermatology nurse practitioner too... he can cook and is gentle... not to mention, his dick is huge.

“too busy. too tired. too lazy.”

you snicker at him. “really? you aren’t too tired right now.”

yoongi smiles cheekily before leaning in and kiss you. he kisses you deep, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. you suck it as he pulls away.

he rests his forehead against yours and hums, “can we have sex now?”

you laugh and hit his bare shoulders.

he places himself back into his desired position and slides his cock in between your folds. he sinks it in a little, sending shivers down your spine. you feel how hard it is—how veiny and thick it feels against your skin. yoongi then sharply inhales as the sound of his dick slapping against your wet pussy echoes.

“f-fuck.”

you let out a whimper and clenched your fist. “put it in. need you.”

your words are music to yoongi’s ears.

he sinks himself inside you. your lips part as you adjust to the feeling of his dick entering inside. it’s big and girthy. the curves it has hits spots you didn’t know could hit.

“oh m-my god,” you breathe. “y-yoongi… think y-you’re too big.”

“am i supposed to feel sorry for you?” he snarks. “come on, ___. you can take it.”

you nod, gulping with determination. you shut your eyes, feeling him thrust in and out of you. he does so slowly but surely, making sure to push in every inch of his length. you wince a couple of times, feeling the burn.

then, after a few more strokes… you feel it.

the pleasure.

yoongi picks up the pace once he sees your begin to enjoy the feeling. he smirks, leaning down for another kiss. you kiss him back, passionately. when he pulls away, he cups your face with his hand and places his thumb in your mouth.

you suck it.

yoongi watches.

he watches as you play with his thumb. licking it, sucking it, and swirling your tongue around it. he watches as your tits move to his thrusts. he watches as your eyes roll back.

he loves it.

the sight is beyond beautiful.

it’s life changing to him.

then, he shifts. he takes your leg down and fully sets himself on top of you. he fucks you faster, burying his face in the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms and legs around him as he digs himself deeper and deeper. he moans in your ear and it feels like with all the lewd sounds in your room—your pussy might explode.

yoongi feels you tighten.

his dick gets harder.

“s-shit, ___… you’re so tight. you feel so good.”

his voice is low and drips with sin.

just when he feels himself about to cum, he pulls out.

you reposition yourself.

this time, you spread your legs out like a v. yoongi plants his hands on either side of you. you reach over and put his dick inside. he bows his head low, biting your shoulder as he begins to fuck you.

yoongi pounds you.

like, to the point where you’re practically screaming.

“o-oh! oh my god, y-yoongi. d-don’t stop. f-fuck, yes. yes, yes yes!” you chant. "fuck! ngghhh, i love your dick. mpffhh—oh god, oh god!"

again, it’s music to his ears.

“i’m gonna cum—”

you reach down and pull his dick out.

“w-what—”

you tug yoongi’s body down and roll over until you stradle him on top. as you sit on him, you quickly put his dick inside you. by now, yoongi’s climax has calmed.

“can you cum inside me?” you ask, lacing your fingers together.

you begin to grind on him. yoongi’s eyes flutter to watch the way your hips move against his stomach. he watches as you fuck yourself on him.

“please, yoongi? i want a baby. remember?”

yoongi nods. “i remember. fuck, you want my cum?”

batting your eyelashes at him, you pout. “mhm.. will you give me a baby? i want your cum. don’t you think i deserve it? see how good i’m fucking myself on you right now?”

“yes.”

“tell me i’m doing a good job, daddy.”

yoongi hisses.

he doesn’t really give a fuck about the whole daddy kink thing… or the impregnation bullshit. people are into what they’re into. but for some reason… this drives him crazy. the way your tone is so soft and desperate, he thinks to himsef;

fuck.

i have to give it you.

you’re too pretty to say no to.

“you’re doing so good, ___. fuck, i love how you fuck me.”

you place your hands on his chest and lean forward for stability. you bounce on his hard cock, making sure the sound of your ass hitting his abdomen is as loud as it can be.

“do you like it when i fuck you like this?” you say, slightly panting. “you like it when i’m about to milk your cock? gonna make you cum. need it.”

“mhm?” yoongi moans. “f-fuck, yeah. you need my cum? you need a baby so bad? you want my babies?”

you nod viciously.

“yes, daddy. need every drop, yoongi. i'm gonna be mad at you if you let it spill out. need your babies.”

with that, yoongi reaches over and grabs a handful of your ass. he helps you fuck him faster and faster. by now, you’re out of breath and yoongi can barely keep his eyes open. the pleasure is so vibrant. it’s sharp and so ready to be released.

“f-fuck, ___. i’m actually gonna cum now. gonna pull out—”

you pout.

“b-but i was serious,” you confess. “you can pull out… but just know; i don’t want you to.”

there’s a look in your eyes that tugs yoongi’s heart strings. he isn’t sure how to go about this. he’s never cum inside someone before… but this was you.

you’re so special to him.

and you want it so bad…

yoongi never thought he’d be this way. laying here with you on top of him, begging for his cum. without even trying, it’s like you make him question every decision and wall he puts up. it’s stupid, really—he knows he’s in control of his decisions here. no one is forcing anyone to do anything and you aren’t convincing him in a way where he’s uncomfortable.

but it’s different.

with you, it’s fucking different.

you caught him off guard and the way you ask him for this makes everything feel so simple.

perhaps its the way you offer him a gentle smile or the way he’s always known you’ve wanted a baby… and the opportunity to give that to you? even if it’s not for real and this is just an in-the-moment kind of thing… fuck, how could he deny you this? he can’t ignore it.

maybe he doesn’t want to.

his thoughts take him away for a second too long. your smile turns into a nod. just as you’re about to get off him, he grabs your waist and helps you fuck him fast.

chasing the high, he groans as he reaches his climax.

he tugs your body as close to him as possible.

yoongi might have lost his mind because—

he folds.

yoongi cums inside you.

he cums so much that his creampie spills out. you giggle as you get off and lay down next to him. yoongi gets on his elbows and spreads your legs open. with soft touches, he takes his fingers and helps shove the spilling cum inside your pussy.

you play with his hair as he does this.

then, when he’s finished he moves back to lay beside you.

a thick silence fills the space between you two.

“i.. w-wow,” he stutters. “are you okay?”

you gulp.

“yeah… thank you for… u-uh… i don’t know if that was awkward for you but it really… i really… i liked it a lot. thank you.”

yoongi chuckles.

he shifts and fixes his sheets for you. he drapes his blanket over your body and adjusts the way you lay on his pillow. leaning in beside you, he kisses the top of your head and caresses your cheek.

“i liked it too. besides,” he says softly. “what are friends for?”

#bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi scenario #yoongi crush #yoongi dilf #yoongi x yn #bts yoongi smut #bts fanfic #bts f2l #yoongi f2l #yoongi fanfic #bts imagine #bts friends to lovers #bts daddy au #bts dilf au

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hairmetal666 · 2 years ago

Text

Steve has this bar he loves in Chicago. It's a little bit dive-y, a little bit dirty, but it's quiet. A good place for when he needs to clear his head.

Only, tonight, the place is packed. Music pounding from the jukebox, no space at the bar, patrons at the dartboard and pool table. In three years he's never seen it like this.

He has a second to wonder what's going on before he sees exactly who is going on, and for him to catch Steve looking.

"Stevie!" Eddie Munson cries. He leaps from the bar top, the people below scrambling away from the stomp of his big black boots.

He hasn't seen Eddie in years. Can't actually remember the last time. Max and Lucas's wedding? Robin and Nancy's baby shower?

Steve considers booking it out of there, escaping in the crush of the crowd. By the time he has the thought, though, Eddie's already pulling him into a hug.

He's excited to see his friend. He is! Really. He loves Eddie. But that's kind of the problem.

Steve fell in love and Eddie left town.

Well, maybe it wasn't so dramatic as all that. It wasn't until six months after they packed the last box in the back of Eddie's van that Steve could name his feelings for what they were. And by then, Corroded Coffin were building buzz and Eddie had a huge whole life outside of the people he saved the world with.

Over the years, as Eddie's fame grew, he came around less and now they hardly see each other. They still talk from time to time, Steve still buys all the band's records, and Eddie's still close with all the kids, Nancy and Robin too.

Eddie releases him, those big eyes bright, a pure and genuine smile stretching his face. Steve's stomach twists, heart skipping a beat.

"Gotta be honest with you, man. Never expected to see Steve Harrington in a place like this."

Steve snorts. "There's lots of place I go you wouldn't expect."

Eddie's smile wobbles, Steve thinks. It's gone in a blink, though, and Eddie laughs. "I'm sure you do, sweetheart. Have time for a drink with me?"

Eddie navigates to the bar, returns with two beers in hand. He presses his palm to the small of Steve's back, directing him to the single empty table in the corner as far from the jukebox as possible.

"How's life treating you, Stevie?" Eddie asks after a sip. "Nance told me the store is doing really well."

"It's good, yeah. Finally turning a profit. Wasn't sure about Dustin having us add a game section, but he was right. It's really taken off."

"Oh, he told me," Eddie smirks.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm sure that he did. He hasn't let me hear the end of it."

"That tone," Eddie says, voice soft.

"What brings you to Chicago?" He asks to hide the way all the fucking love he feels for this man is bleeding out of him.

"Not really supposed to be," he laughs. "Flight got diverted to O'Hare, can't get another one until tomorrow. Have to make it to LA in time to play a show."

They both know Eddie loves it; the rush, the adrenaline, that comes with performing, to making it to shows at the very last minute. It's how they got here in the first place.

"Working on new music?"

Eddie leans back, dimples popping with the pleased lift of his lips. "Oh, Harrington, you don't even know what we have in store." He leans over the table and launches into tales of rehearsals and writing. Steve drinks his beer and can't take his eyes off his friend, Eddie the sun Steve orbits around, helpless to his gravitational pull.

"So, Stevie," Eddie says, once there's no more to tell about music. "You seeing anyone?"

Steve hides his cringe with a chuckle. Picks up his beer to buy time and finds it empty. "Not anyone of note."

"C'mon, how is that possible? You're easily the hottest guy in this place."

He grimaces. "That's a low bar."

"Oooh, still bitchy after all these years." Eddie snickers, takes a swig from his bottle.

"Shut-up."

"Seems like it's been a while since you dated."

"You interrogating my love life now, Munson?"

"No, not at all. Just curious."

"Okay, who are you dating? Still that guy from People?"

"Gossip," Eddie frowns.

"Anyone else you got your eye on?"

"No one new," Eddie says. He stares at Steve hard for a second, like he wants to dig into his brain, like it holds the answer to all life's question.

"There is someone, then." Steve tries to ignore the jealousy licking down his spine. Eddie isn't his and never will be.

Eddie picks at the label on his now empty beer. "Not--not really." He licks his lips, leaning over the table again. "Is there a reason you don't seem to date anymore, man? It's just--you wouldn't hurt for options, right?"

Steve freezes, trying to figure out a way to answer that won't end up breaking his own heart. "Ah, it's--you know, things got busy with opening the store and everything. Stopped being a priority."

"Are you lonely?"

"Are you?" He snaps before he can stop himself. "Sorry, I'm--sorry."

"Yeah, man. I'm lonely as hell." Eddie answers as though Steve didn't give him an out.

"I--you ever have someone where the timing is always wrong?"

"Think it's a hazard of my profession. Who's yours?"

"What?" Steve clunks his bottle too hard against the table.

"The one that got away?"

"It's--it--I--it doesn't matter."

Eddie's smile is all jagged edges. "Nancy?"

"God, no. Nance and I are good with being friends. No lingering feelings there. Who's yours?"

"Ahh," Eddie sits back a little, eyes glittering with an emotion Steve can't place. "The best boy I ever met. Can't get over him, can't forget him. I think they guys are going to start banning my 'pathetic gay yearning songs'. Gareth's words."

Something in Steve's chest crumbles to dust. There's someone. Has always been someone. Of course. Eddie is beautiful and hot and charismatic and fucking famous. And Steve is--just a guy who runs a struggling bookstore with a couple of his best friends.

"That's--I'm sorry it didn't work out." He's trying to stop his voice from breaking, from giving Eddie any hint of what he's feeling, just knows he has to get out. "Listen, man, thanks for the beer. Great to catch up. You should hit up Robin and Nancy the next time you're in town. I gotta get going."

"Wait, Steve--"

"See you around."

He doesn't wait. He pushes through the people, and races out the door, into the crisp Chicago fall air. He squeezes his eyes closed, practices his breathing exercises, tries to relax the clench of his teeth, ease the screaming in his lungs.

Three steps away from the building is as far as he gets before he hears, "Steve, please wait." A hand catches his hip, holding him in place.

"Eddie, I don't--"

"It's you," Eddie says. His face is pale, stricken. "You're the one who got away, Steve."

"What?"

"I've never been able to work up the nerve to confess. I've been trying for years, but. Too afraid of losing you to tell the truth."

"Years?" Steve's brain is trying to wrap around what's happening. That Eddie has feelings for him? That he's the source of the pathetic gay yearning?

"God, since 1986, at least."

Steve doesn't know what to say; what to do. He's been waiting for this moment so long, and his brain goes on pause.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same," Eddie rambles. "Hell, I'd be surprised if you did, but--"

"You're mine too," the words tumble out.

"What?"

"You're the one who got away. For me. You're mine."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. "Is this--are you serious?"

"Pathetic gay yearning and all."

Eddie's laugh is a bright spot in the darkness, relief and happiness mixed with the hope of what's next.

Steve can't help but giggle. "We're so dumb," he says.

Eddie looks at him with a raised eyebrow before bursting into giggles of his own. "So dumb, Steve, oh my god."

"It's been a decade!"

"Fuck," Eddie cackles.

They collapse against each other, chests heaving with their mirth. As they catch their breath, Steve nuzzles against Eddie's neck, relishing the closeness. It's easy for him to change the angle so their lips meet in a kiss frantic with ten years of longing.

"Your place or mine?" Eddie asks once they part.

Steve laughs. "You think I'm that easy, Munson?"

"Oh, Steve," Eddie smirks. "I know it."

"Asshole." Steve presses a kiss to his jaw. "How many songs did you write about me?"

Eddie smiles so hard his dimples pop. "All of them, baby. Every single one."

Steve rests their foreheads together, body fizzing like freshly uncorked champagne, "Take me home, Ed."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #oneshot #angst #friends to lovers #angst with a happy ending #idiots in love #mutual pining #famous eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #regular guy steve harrington #pathetic gay yearning #fluff #the one that got away #second chances #getting together

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p0orbaby · 3 months ago

Text

In Vino Veritas

summary: you’re drunk, aitana is missing and whose house is this?

warnings: alcohol

a/n: this is cute, and it’s made me want to write for tana more

word count: 2.5k

The music pulses around the house, loud and relentless, like it has a personal vendetta against silence, and you feel it vibrating through your bones. It’s some mainstream electronic track, too cheerful for the kind of reflective mood tequila usually grants you. Everything around you is a little hazy, a bit too bright, and you’re squinting at it all, like you’re looking at the world through frosted glass.

The wallpaper here is too clean, too deliberately “vintage,” with little pink roses blooming in neat, identical rows. You imagine, briefly, peeling the wallpaper back, layer by layer, finding more roses, more decades of them, stacked on top of each other like memories no one wants to talk about. But that’s a thought for another time, another you, one not stumbling over someone’s overly expensive thrifter rug and nearly tripping on a pair of boots discarded in the hallway.

Where the hell is Aitana?

It’s around the fifth time you’ve drunkenly circled the house when you spot Sunglasses Guy, a figure that almost feels like a test placed here by some malevolent spirit—an obstacle on your journey. He’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter like he’s in a photoshoot, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Indoors, sunglasses on, even though it’s dark outside. He’s got that air of self-importance, like he’s convinced that sunglasses are mysterious, that people look at him and think, Wow, who’s that? In reality, they’re thinking, Why is this guy wearing sunglasses in the dark?

He nods at you, a slow, deliberate motion, clearly trying to make you feel “seen” in some profound way, as if this is a moment the two of you will remember forever. But all you remember is your drink, the way it sloshes precariously as you shift your weight, and the way he leans in, smelling faintly of something vaguely woody and way too expensive.

“Do you know what NFTs are?” he asks, his voice low, a little sultry, like he thinks NFTs are the new “what’s your sign?”

You stare at him, and the words that spring to mind are “sunglasses,” “pretentious,” and, inexplicably, “parsley.” You’ve no idea where “parsley” came from, but your mind clings to it like smoke on cotton. “NFTs,” you repeat, as though it’s the punchline to a joke he hasn’t told. He takes this as an invitation to launch into what sounds like a memorised TED Talk, and you wonder, briefly, if you could just interrupt him by throwing your drink on his shoes.

“Aitana!” you yell instead, desperate, cutting him off mid-monologue, which he handles with a slightly indignant flick of his eyebrow.

“Where’s my girlfriend? Have you seen her?”

The phrase my girlfriend makes you beam internally. There’s a glow that forms when you think of her, a warmth that starts in your chest and blooms outward. She is, after all, the reason you’re here. The reason you even pretend to tolerate these kinds of social gatherings, with their sunglasses indoors and their endless monologues about digital assets.

He blinks, trying to recover from the abrupt derailment. “Uh, blockchain—”

“Ugh,” you mutter, interrupting again, giving him a very distinct dismissive wave, the kind of wave that says Please stop talking or I will find a way to escape this dimension entirely.

A girl nearby spills beer on your shoes. She mumbles an apology, not that you’re in a state to care; you brush it off. Aitana is the focus, the centre. Shoes don’t matter when you’re looking for someone who does.

Then, finally—finally—you see her. She’s leaning against the far wall, her posture so casual, like she’s posed there on purpose, like she’s an ad for the kind of life you’re pretty sure only exists in those short films that play before foreign films at independent cinemas. She’s listening intently to some guy in an aggressively patterned shirt, nodding along like he’s actually saying something worthwhile, and you can’t help but marvel at the patience it takes to look interested when you’re not.

“Oh my god, she’s so beautiful.” It’s supposed to be a whisper, but it comes out loud enough that a girl nearby laughs. You’re only mildly mortified; who cares? Aitana has just noticed you across the room, and now she’s looking at you with that expression, the one that melts your insides, that says, There you are.

You start walking toward her, though “walking” might be generous. It’s more of a determined stumble, like a baby deer on its first attempt at standing. Your brain registers that you’re approaching her, but your legs aren’t quite sure if they’re fully on board. At some point, you even have to pause and grab a nearby chair for balance, flashing a sheepish grin at a couple nearby who look half-amused, half-concerned.

“Aitanaaaa,” you call, drawing her name out like you’re serenading her. She’s already moving toward you, though, weaving gracefully through the crowd like it’s easy, natural. You think, Of course she’d come to me. Of course she’d know that I need rescuing.

“Hi, cariño,” she says softly, her voice lilting with that soft Spanish accent that, even now, sends a thrill up your spine. And it’s so gentle, so warm, like she’s wrapping you up in some invisible blanket. You lean into it, the warmth, her presence, like a moth to a flame.

“You’re so pretty,” you blurt out, your words tumbling over each other in their eagerness. “Like, stupid pretty. Like, why are you even with me?” Your voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, as if the two of you are sharing a secret in a room filled with strangers. “I’m a disaster. I can’t even find the toilet in this place”

She laughs, this soft, lilting sound that feels like honey, thick and golden, spreading warmth from your chest to your fingertips. Her hand settles on your shoulder, steadying you, pulling you closer, and you realise how desperately you want to bury your face in the crook of her neck and just exist there, where things are quiet, soft. She smells faintly floral, and you realise it’s that same perfume she always wears, the one you borrowed once and promptly drenched yourself in until she told you, with a smile, that subtlety might work better.

“Why am I with you?” she echoes, the question hanging there between you, laced with a smile, with that familiar mischief. “Because I love you. And because you’re funny. And because you make my life interesting”

“Interesting?” You narrow your eyes, leaning back slightly, pretending to be offended. “I thought I made your life amazing. Like, top-tier, VIP-section amazing.” You’re about to launch into a whole speech, but your brain hiccups, lost somewhere in a thought that doesn’t quite finish. You grin at her instead, and she just shakes her head, amused.

She grins, and it’s that cheeky, self-assured grin that makes you both melt and want to argue. “That too”

It’s at this moment, this little pause, that you get an idea. It’s not necessarily a good idea, but it’s there, persistent, because your tequila-fuelled brain won’t let it go. “If you were a sandwich,” you say seriously, “you’d be the kind with all the best fillings. Like, avocado and caramelised onions and, like, artisanal cheese. And I’d eat you every day and never get bored”

She laughs, that infectious, melodic sound, and you feel a swell of pride that you can make her laugh like that, even in your current state. Her eyes soften, that look of adoration flickering there, just for you, and she reaches up to brush a strand of hair off your face. Her fingers are warm, soft, and your eyes flutter closed for a moment as they linger on your cheek.

“Come on, let’s get you some water,” she murmurs, her voice gentle as she takes your hand in hers, and there’s a comfort in that touch, in the way her fingers intertwine with yours.

As she guides you through the crowd, you find yourself staring at her hand in yours, marvelling at how naturally it fits, how perfect it feels, as though it’s always meant to be there. The thought makes you feel almost childlike in its simplicity, but you hold onto it.

“You’re the best, you know that?” you say as Aitana threads you through a crowd that’s moving with the sludgy, undulating rhythm of a creature with too many limbs. Faces pass by in flashes of laughing mouths and narrowed eyes, pupils blown wide by God knows what, maybe tequila, maybe… more. None of them matter, though. They’re simply the backdrop to this little tableau: you, lit up and fizzing, tethered to the only person in the world who’d think to take your hand and lead you to salvation (water) instead of just letting you unravel on the sticky floor of someone’s overpriced house.

She looks at you like you’re amusing, like she’s doing you this great favour by holding your hand in public. “I know,” she says, her mouth quirking in that way that makes your chest feel both hollow and unbearably full.

And then you stop—there’s an odd elegance to it, almost like a dance, because she half-turns, looking back at you as if she knew this was coming. Like she’s been expecting you to stop her and do something wild, something foolish. The patience in her eyes, well, it almost feels like she’s giving you permission to make an idiot of yourself. Again.

“I want to kiss you,” you announce, dead serious, as if declaring something truly revolutionary.

“We’re in the middle of a strangers house.” She says this lightly, but she’s already leaning in, her chin tilting, the light catching in her hair just so, like it’s the climax of some impossibly chic music video.

You want to tell her that kissing her here, now, with people everywhere and the taste of cheap tequila in your mouth, is the single most important thing in the world. That nothing in this moment matters, except her—your Aitana, who has somehow, against all reason and logic, decided to love you back.

So, when she presses her mouth to yours, soft, barely-there, like you’re made of fine china, you think you might just melt into the floor. The crowd around you recedes; they fade away, just shadows in the periphery, and it’s as if you and Aitana are standing in a bubble, suspended in time. You’re floating, really, an ethereal, drunk ghost of yourself. She’s kissed you like this a thousand times, but right now, it feels so outrageously perfect that you think, absurdly, that maybe you don’t deserve it. Like you’ve somehow won this cosmic lottery.

When she pulls back, you’re vaguely aware that your mouth is still open, probably looking ridiculous, but she’s smiling at you, all fondness and amusement, as if to say, “Yes, you’re a total disaster, but you’re my disaster.” It’s a little terrifying, if you think about it too long.

“See? This is why you’re the best,” you mumble, clutching her a little tighter, almost swaying in place.

She tilts her head, giving you this look that’s so completely Aitana, so fully her, it borders on cliché. “You’re a mess,” she says, but her eyes are bright, shimmering with something almost mischievous.

You shrug, proud, defiant. “I’m your mess”

“Yes,” she agrees, not even trying to hide her smile, “you are”

And with that, she’s tugging you along, moving with a fluidity that makes you wonder, briefly, if she’s choreographed this entire evening just for you. You’re half-convinced she’s orchestrated the entire universe to align with this moment—the sounds of people talking too loud, the stickiness of the floor, the faint scent of stale beer and expensive perfume all melding into a cocktail that feels uniquely yours. Aitana, your perfect Aitana, leading you through this mire like she’s guiding you through a rainforest or a canyon, somewhere treacherous and fraught with danger.

You stumble into what you desperately hope is the kitchen, but honestly, it could just as easily be a poorly-lit hallway or an oddly-configured living room. Someone has drawn a Sharpie mustache on a framed photo of a golden retriever; the countertop is littered with crumpled napkins and red Solo cups, each one bearing the lipstick marks of strangers.

“I’m gonna drink, like, four litres of water,” you declare, full of bravado, as she hands you a slightly dented plastic cup that smells faintly of gin.

“Good idea,” she replies, crossing her arms and watching you with that expression she gets sometimes, like she’s trying to contain her fondness, keep it manageable, as if loving you too much would somehow be irresponsible. Like her heart could actually explode if she indulged herself too much.

You take a sip, but you’re not really tasting the water. No, you’re watching her, the way she brushes a loose strand of hair out of her face with her pinky, the way her eyes are this exact shade of dark that you’ve spent hours trying to name in your head. Like burnt caramel, maybe, or wet soil. It’s frustratingly poetic, the way she looks at you, like she knows every ridiculous thing you’ve ever thought and loves you for it anyway.

“Aitana,” you say, fully serious, as if you’re about to impart some life-altering wisdom. “You’re my favourite person ever”

“I know,” she replies, but there’s something so gentle in her voice that you’re pretty sure she means it as much as you do. She reaches out, smoothing a stray hair behind your ear, a little gesture, the kind that’s both tender and practical, reminding you of the time she told you to cut your nails because you scratched her during a tickling fit. Practical, pragmatic Aitana, the girl who brings you plasters when you’ve tripped up the stairs and curses in Catalan when she stubs her toe but tries to blame the wall for it.

“No, but like…you don’t understand,” you say, stumbling over your words, the alcohol making you louder and sloppier than you’d like. You lean in closer, conspiratorially, like you’re about to reveal some great cosmic secret. “I’m so in love with you. It’s, like, a problem”

She laughs softly, the sound low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. She pulls you into her arms, your head pressing against her shoulder, and you breathe her in, that familiar scent that’s all her—floral and a little musky, layered with the faintest hint of some expensive perfume you’ve never bothered to learn the name of.

“It’s not a problem,” she murmurs, smoothing a hand down your back. “It’s perfect”

And it is. Perfect, that is. You’re here, tangled up in her, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic, messy cloud of tequila and love, and it’s perfect in this fragile, unsteady way. You’re her mess, her drunken mess, and there’s something so intensely beautiful about it, you think you might actually cry.

“I’m never letting you go,” you mumble, your words muffled against her shirt, which is soft and smells like laundry detergent.

“Good,” she replies, holding you a little tighter, as if she means it more than anything. “Because I’m not going anywhere”

#aitana bonmati #aitana bonmati x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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johnbrand · 5 months ago

Text

New Favorite Brew

With @misctf, continuing their Gridiron Brew series

“David, c’mon we’re gonna be late for yoga!”

Matty shouted, grabbing his mat as he launched himself out of his room. He knew that the pair should not have gotten drunk last night. You could not squeeze that many drinks into twinks skinnier than rails! Matty had stopped while he was ahead–although not super far ahead as he was still a bit hungover–but David had gone hard. He had even pounded back a beer that he had gotten from the liquor store for free before they had arrived at Matty's apartment. They had exclusively drank hard seltzers since graduating a year ago, so when the cashier handed them the beer as a part of a promotion, they laughed.

But now rushing towards the door, Matty knew they would be doing anything but laughing if they missed this yoga class. They had spent a fortune on securing their spots months ago.

“Ready to go, David?”

“What's goin' on, bro?”

Matty stood in shock for a moment at the naked man on his couch. The brute was large, hairy, and old–probably twice the size, girth, and maturity of Matty. This uber-masculine mammoth of a creature was not at all what Matty had been expecting, causing him to audibly squeak.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, bro?” His voice was deep, resonant and gruff. “Oh yeah, sorry you know how I get when I go too far. Would always lose my clothes by the end of the party, just reliving the good old frat days I guess.”

“I…uh…” Matty stuttered, but quickly recovered himself. Dave was right, this always happened when he got too drunk. “I’ll see you later, I have to get to my yoga class.”

“Sure,” Dave yawned, not even bothering to cover himself as he cracked open another can of beer as his breakfast. “Good luck or whatever, bro!”

Matty left, his bewilderment rapidly evaporating into being simply unfazed. By the time he was in his car, the whole situation was already behind him. Matty’s class was the only thing on his mind. In moments, he had his Top Hits of the 2010s playlist blasting through his earbuds. He luckily made it on time to his class, and afterwards was exhausted. Ripping his sweat-soaked shirt off as soon as he was in his car, Matty took a moment to recover and laid back in his seat. When he opened his eyes again, he was surprised by the metallic glare hitting his eyes.

Twisting around, Matty was surprised to find a can of beer in his car. He presumed it had been misplaced from his and Dave’s shenanigans last night at the liquor store; Matty’s bag of seltzer’s and Dave’s bag of six-packs. The can in question must have slipped out. Curiously, Matty picked up the can, the aluminum exterior slightly warm from having sat in the sun. The label was not anything special, brown with an old-timey football player on the front. The words “Gridiron Brew” were somehow delivered in the most masculine and yet generic font possible.

Feeling a sudden thirst, and growing interest as to why Dave was so addicted to the stuff, Matty carefully cracked it open. He did not know what he expected, but that first sip of standard cheap beer tasted like…cheap beer. There was nothing remarkable, no mouthwatering trigger that made Matty instantly understand why Dave was so obsessed with the stuff. It was probably not fair that he was having it warm, but Matty-

BOOOOOUUUURRRPP!

Matty clasped a hand over his mouth as quickly as possible, his face flushing scarlet. But before the embarrassment had completely resided, his hand moved down to his stomach. His glistening abdominals were cramping up, tightening in on themselves violently underneath his touch. Through his bare skin, it almost felt to Matty as if they were vibrating.

“Oh god…” Matty groaned. Suddenly, the tightness Matty was feeling was softening. Underneath his finger tips, his stomach began to expand, pushing out a thin layer of fat over his abs. A second coat was applied on top of the first, and then a third onto the second, until eventually the bulge emerged over his waistband. And his tight pecs soon jutted out onto his muscle gut with both fat and muscle, their taut nature now loosened dramatically. Frantically, Matty read over the tagline of the beer, his arms and legs bulking up proportionally with his midsection. “Gridiron Brew is for the ex-jock in you!”

“Nnnhh…broooo…!” Matty pleaded to the open space, his voice taking on a lower and rougher nature. An aggravating warmth began to swarm his already overheated body, testosterone surging as it caused hair to erupt across Matty’s frame. From his dense pubes sprang forth a current of hair tracing over every available inch of his body. Nothing was spared, and Matty could not decipher through his agony if the masculinity upgrade was something to be reviled or cherished.

Matty prayed for his distress to end, gripping his gut and the beer can as his face rounded out, widening before disappearing underneath a thick beard. Age lines and wrinkles carved onto Matty’s once-clean skin, which was quickly growing a bit leathery as his body rapidly aged. Eventually the pain began to fade, and Matty could do nothing beside inhaling and exhaling slowly. Eventually, he realized he had been subconsciously flexing his pecs.

It was a strange sensation, feeling the slabs of meat bounce up and down, but at the same time it was…calming? Matty could not describe it, having never done it before. But then why did it feel so familiar? Feeling his girth, relishing in his massive size. It had been something he had enjoyed since he had discovered it back in high school, right? But that felt like years ago. Was it years ago? Matt nodded slowly–it must have been. Yeah, back when they played good music like the stuff on his Top Hits of the 90s playlist.

Matt tossed back another swig of his new favorite brew before starting the car. He continued to relish his past glory days, never to realize that moments before he had been living those cherished days, and that they were not mere memories of decades past.

#male tf #male transformation #dumbification #jock tf #fratification #age progression tf #unintended results

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dakotalun · 2 years ago

Text

"Oops" | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

summary: Part 2--Reader now confronts Eddie about his text last week. Feelings are spilled and sheets are ruined.

warnings: oral (f. receiving), praise kink, pet names (good girl, baby, sweetheart, sweets, honey), dom!eddie, fingering, cunnilingus, degradation (brat, slut, whore, cockslut), squirting, aftercare

word count: 3.8k

a/n: This is part 2 to "Oops", which we now get into the real reason you all are here.

Part 1

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

He had to lie about talking to Callie from chem but it was better than the truth. He knew then that you didn’t feel the same way as him, and it hurt him. He meant to delete the photo after you ended the call but his mind was too clouded so he took a walk and forgot about it later on. If only he knew what you did that night looking at said photo.

“The truth?” Eddie didn’t know why there was this sudden burst of courage rushing through him, maybe it was the beers, or the weed or maybe it was just the fact that he needed to tell you how he felt, no matter what your answer was.

You nod your head at his question, turning to get a good look at him. His eyes were shut as he leaned against the wall, his neck stretched enough to show his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly.

“Yes.” You’re confused for a second, yes he didn’t know or yes he did know? “I knew it was you, I mean.”

Oh. Oh, OH! Your brain scrambles thinking back to the picture and the text, ‘Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you’. That’s what the text said, so did that mean it was you he was jerking off to?

“So the text…”

“Was about you. Yeah.” His shoulders rise a little before falling, like a weight had literally been lifted off his shoulders. His eyes are still closed, scared that if he opens them he’ll be met with a grin on your face before you laugh at him.

“Eddie,” You say softly, moving to sit up on your knees. He doesn’t open his eyes or move his head, “Eds. Look at me.”

You scooch forward, sitting next to him, your thigh touching his own. His eyes crack open at the touch, his gaze locked at the ceiling still.

You reach your hand up and cup his cheek, guiding his face to look at yours. His eyes are glossy, like he’s trying not to cry. You give him a soft smile, your own eyes begin to well up with tears.

“I need you to listen to me, got it?” You wait for him to nod before continuing, “I love you Eddie. Both as a friend and more. I didn’t realize how much I loved you until you sent that photo, that wonderful, hot, sexy photo,” He tries to move his head away but you pull it back to you, “That photo that I ended up looking at as I made myself cum that night.” That caught his attention. He opened his mouth to say something but you were quick to stop him, resuming your speech.

“Eddie, why didn’t you just tell me you liked me? I wouldn't laugh at you or anything, if anything I’d probably realize I did too. I just don’t understand why you had to do that to tell me. Not that I didn’t love it, I did. Just, I need you to say it.”

He looks at you for a second more, making sure you’re done talking before speaking himself.

“Sweetheart,” His hand reaches up to hold your own, the one on his cheek, “If I’m being completely, 100% transparent with you. I didn’t think I was worth your time. You are way out of my league and the fact that you chose to stick by me all these years just made it even harder not to fall for you. But you,” He squeezes your hand, “You are the one I want to be with. Always have been, always will be. I don’t want anyone else. I love you so damn much baby.”

The new pet name made a smile creep onto your face, the tears finally breaking the barrier and spilling down your face.

This man, your best friend, the one you didn’t know you loved as much as you truly did until a week ago, loves you back. You’re so happy that he loves you back that you can’t even stop yourself before you launch forward and pull him in for a kiss. It’s soft, your soft lips meeting his chapped ones, a perfect pairing.

You pull away after a few seconds, needing to breathe. Your foreheads are touching as you stare at each other, love and lust filling your eyes.

“Can I kiss you again?” You nod and Eddie leans in for another kiss. This one being harder than the other, more passion and lust thrown in. Eddie’s tongue brushes over your bottom lip, wishing for access that you give without a second thought.

You moan at the feeling of his tongue meeting yours, the taste of weed, beer and pizza still lingering. Eddie’s hand moves from its place over yours and to your waist, being met quickly with his other. He holds you tightly, afraid that if he didn’t you’d slip away from his grasp. You move your leg over his going to straddle his thighs. He helps you situate yourself on top of his lap, lips never once disconnecting.

The new position lets you feel just how hard he is under his sweats, the boner that you’ve only ever seen through a screen under only a few layers of clothing. You start to grind your hips on him, making him groan into your mouth at the friction. His hands move down to your hips, helping your movements, while yours tangle themselves in his hair, feeling just how soft it really is.

You grab a handful of it at the base of his neck, pulling lightly as you continue making out and grinding on him. On one particularly rough thrust, his sweats hit that perfect spot on your clit making you moan into his mouth and pull his hair hard. He lets out a deep groan at the feeling, which makes you smile into the kisses, now knowing a little secret about him.

“Shit baby,” Eddie breathlessly says as he pulls away from you, “Need to taste you. Please.”

The words go straight to your core, making the wet patch between your thighs grow.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“I want- I need to. Been dreaming of this forever,” He pulls further from your face, gauging your reaction, “Will you let me take care of you?”

You nod your head, “Words baby. I need words.”

“Yes, please Eddie.” The words come out more whiny than you’d wanted but you could care less at this point, all you can think about is him between your thighs.

Eddie flips the both of you over, laying you down so your head is on his pillows. He goes back to kissing you, leaving kisses all over. Your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, before roaming further down, to your neck, sucking little hickeys wherever he goes.

You just lay there relishing in the feeling of his mouth on you, your hands still in his hair. He glides down to your collarbone, sucking another hickey there. His hands are sliding all over your body, up your thighs, gripping your hips, towards your waist, pushing the shirt you have on up, exposing more skin to him.

“Can I take this off princess?” He looks at you, his big brown eyes almost black with lust.

Without responding you sit up quickly and yank the shirt off of your body, tossing it somewhere on his floor. You lay back down, now in only your underwear in front of him. There’s something about Eddie still being fully clothed while you were there basically naked in front of him that turned you on more.

“Jesus, princess. You’re so damn pretty,” He guides his hands towards your boobs, looking at you for permission, which you give, before palming them, “These perfect goddamn tits.”

He leans down and starts sucking on one, kissing it softly at first before taking the nipple into his mouth, nipping it lightly. The other is being rolled between his fingers, pulling delicious moans and whimpers from you. He removes his mouth from one with a pop before giving the other the same treatment.

You try to buck your hips up into him, needing some type of friction, but his weight stops any possible movements. You can feel his bulge against your thigh and it’s driving you crazy not being able to see it, and have it inside you. Eddie bites a little harder causing you to scream out in pleasure/pain.

“That’s it baby. Let me hear you, I want every little moan and whimper,” He’s smiling at you as he goes back to trailing kisses down your body. He stops just at the waistline of your panties, slipping one finger through, pulling it back just to release and snap it against you.

You moan out, the slight sting feeling good. Your eyes followed him as he continued down, kissing your hips, and thighs. The teasing is driving you crazy but it feels so good at the same time, you love the feeling of Eddie’s lips on you. Eddie reaches your knee, planting a light kiss there before pulling away from you completely.

“You sure about this? We can stop now if you want,” His words seemingly far away in your ears.

You look at him and shake your head, his hair is disheveled from your fingers raking through it, his eyes blown wide at the sight of you, his sweats are tented containing the thing you want most right now. You sit up, crossing your legs beneath you as you reach for the hem of his shirt.

You tug at it until he gets the hint and pulls it over his head, tossing it down next to yours. Your eyes roam over his chest, eyeing the dark tattoos that contrast with his fair skin. You let your fingers wander over them, tracing the outlines and shapes etched into the skin forever. Eddie’s breathing quickens at the feeling of your fingers on him, he swears he could watch you do this all day but right now he needed to taste the girl of his dreams.

He grabs your wrists lightly, pulling them away from him much to both of your protest.

“Please, let me taste you. I wanna make you feel good,” He pleads with you for the second time that night. You stare at him above you before you look down at the ground; you’re scared now because you’ve never had someone go down on you, especially since you’ve only ever had one boyfriend who thought about himself more than you.

Your hesitation makes Eddie worried, he squats down in front of you to be in your eyeline.

“We don’t have to go any further. I’m okay with just going to bed now if that’s what you want.”

“No!” You quickly reply, “No I- I want this.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to.” His eyes are soft, caring and full of truth.

You nod your head, “I want this Eds. I’ve just-” You sigh, “I’ve never had anyone…you know, go down on me.”

Eddie’s eyes widen at your words. He knows you dated someone a few years ago, assuming that the both of you did a lot together. But knowing this only fueled his need to please you more.

“Then let me be the first. I promise it’ll be amazing, for both of us,” He grabs a hold of your hands, “I want to make you feel amazing. Will you let me?”

You look at him, the lust in your eyes turning to pure unbridled love for the man in front of you. You nod your head, “Yes, I trust you.”

A smile breaks out on Eddie’s face as he goes back to his full height. “Lay back down for me sweet girl.” You follow his instructions, resuming your previous position on his bed. Legs wide and waiting for him.

He crawls over you, kissing his way towards your mouth. He plants one on you that has you moaning and bucking your hips into him again. He smiles into the kiss, pulling away and kneeling down so he’s eye level with your dripping cunt. His hands move like feathers over your skin reaching your underwear and slowly peeling them off of you.

His eyes never leave yours, making sure you’re comfortable as he pulls them off of you and throws them behind himself. Once he knows you’re safe and good he kisses up your thighs, towards your core.

You whine under him, he’s going too slow. You need his mouth on you and now. Eddie finally places the gentlest of kisses to your clit, pulling a squeal out of you before you buck your hips up in return. He smiles and goes in, licking and sucking the little bud until you’re a writhing mess under him.

Then he moves his tongue down, circling your hole a few times before slowly inserting it. He groans at the feeling of you pulsing around him, his hips rutting against the bed as he enjoys this just as much if not more than you.

The feeling of him inside of you, even if it is just his tongue is amazing and you can’t wait for more. Once Eddie thinks you are warmed up enough he glides his hand up to meet his mouth, replacing his tongue with one finger. The stretch it gives you is so new and pleasurable, once you get past the slight pain of it all.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Taking my finger so well, think you can take another one? Hmm?” Eddie looks back up at you wanting to see you fall apart for him. You nod frantically and mewl at his question, falling deep into the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Aw look at you, already so cock drunk and I’ve not even given it to you yet. You gonna be a good girl for me and take another finger so I can stretch you out for this cock?”

“Yes, please. Ed-” Once the word leaves your mouth another finger enters you, the pain shooting through you before being taken over by blinding pleasure.

Eddie pumps his fingers in and out of you at a slow pace, not wanting to hurt you, yet. But all you want is to cum, to feel yourself fall apart at his doing. The feeling of your core tightening signals both you and Eddie of what’s about to happen.

Eddie then attaches his lips to your clit again, sending you over the edge, cumming all over his fingers and face. He pumps his fingers until he feels you loosen around him then takes them out.

“God you taste so damn good sweetheart,” He crawls back on top of you, face to face before guiding his fingers that were inside of you to your mouth, “Taste yourself baby.”

You oblige and open your mouth, sucking his fingers clean of your juices. He groans at the sight, the way your eyes roll back and you moan around his fingers. He pulls them out because if he didn’t he was sure he’d cum just watching you like that.

Eddie goes to take off his sweats but you stop him, “I wanna make you feel good too Eds.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, he’s thought of your pretty little lips around him so much and you offering it right now is like heaven but he knows that the moment your mouth touches him he won’t be able to hold back. “Sweets, you have no idea how much I want to watch that but right now I need to be inside of you. I’ve waited long enough, you can suck me off another time, promise.”

He kisses you then pulls his sweats down along with his underwear. His cock springs free, red and leaking precum just like the photo. You can’t stop yourself once you see it, you reach out and take it into your hands, stroking it slowly, softly, taking your time to relish in the feeling of your hand around him.

Eddie seems to be doing the same thing, moans and groans falling from his lips until his hand grips your wrist to stop your movements, “Gotta stop baby, or else I’ll bust right now.” He laughs a little before leaning down to give you a small peck on the lips.

He lifts himself up onto his hands and reaches for his bedside table, opening the top drawer and pulling out the small, aluminum square. He rips it open with his teeth before sliding the latex over his hard on, pumping it a few times before lining it up with your entrance.

He looks up at you, eyes locking, “You sure about this? We can still stop.” He’s so sweet and kind it makes your heart ache. You place your hand on his cheek, he leans into the touch.

“Please Eddie. I’ve never wanted anything more.” You give him a kiss, filled with love and lust and passion. With that he slowly pushes in, just the tip to get you used to the girth of him.

Your head falls back onto his pillows, one hand moving to grip his hair the other his back. He pushes in a little more, inch by inch until he is finally all the way in. The groan he releases when he feels you clench around him, getting used to his size, is like music to your ears. A song that you could listen to on repeat for hours on end.

“Need you- need you to move Ed, please.”

“Gimme a sec baby, wanna make this last.”

A few seconds later he pulls out only an inch or two before going back into the hilt. The feeling of him moving sends shivers down your spine, loving every moment of it. He gains more confidence and pulls out all the way to the tip before slamming back into you. The way your tits move from the force makes Eddie’s mind go blank.

Eddie’s pace is slow and rhythmic, just trying to let you adjust to him, but you need more.

“Faster Eddie. Faster.” It falls out of you as a moan, barely audible to yourself but he hears it and grants your wish picking up the pace. Your moans grow louder as his pace speeds, you start mumbling incoherent things.

“Good girl, take this cock like the little slut you are. Bet you love it when I call you my little slut huh?” You squeeze around him at his words, “Oh I felt that baby. You like it when I degrade you don’t you my little whore, hmm? Gonna always be the little cockslut that I know you are. Falling apart with me inside of you.”

You’re not even trying to hold anything back at this point, the feelings being too good to try to stop, “God Eddie you feel so good. You’re so big, dammit!” He hits that sweet spot inside of you that has your eyes rolled back and mouth wide open but nothing coming out.

“Oh, is that the spot honey? That the spot that makes you feel good?” He moves against you to hit that spot over and over again. Your brain goes numb, not registering anything that’s happening around you, too shrouded in pleasure to care.

Eddie’s talking to you but you can’t hear what he’s saying. Next thing you know he’s circling your clit with his fingers again, pulling a particularly loud whine out of you.

“Ed, I’m gonna- Shit! Feel like I’m gonna pee, gotta stop.”

“Oh but sweetheart that’s what I want you to do, wanna see you cum and squirt all over this cock of yours. Come on cum for me baby girl. I know you got one more in you.”

His words ring in your ears, but they sound so far away. The feeling of his hand gripping your hip and the fingers on your clit and the dick inside of you all becoming too much and you just let go. There’s a gushing sound as Eddie pounds into you faster and harder, now chasing his own orgasm. It rips through him just as hard as yours did you, his white sperm spilling into the condom. A small part of you wishes it wasn’t there, to feel his seed inside of you, maybe even have it stay there until you get pregnant.

Eddie collapses on top of you, breath hot and heavy against your neck. He’s planting small kisses along your shoulder and collarbone, waiting out the wave of pleasure that just overtook the both of you. Sooner than you’d like he’s getting up and pulling out of you, making you whine at the loss of him.

He exits the room for a short amount of time, returning to you in the same position. He starts to wipe you clean with a warm towel, being careful of your sensitive clit before pulling your shirt and underwear back on you. He puts his own clothes on, neglecting his shirt this time around. He goes to the side of you, picking you up bridal style and carrying you into the living room to lay you down on the couch.

He returns to his room to change his sheets and lay a towel down to soak up what seeped through. Once his sheets are changed he goes back to get you and places you back in his bed, pulling the covers up over you. He gets you a glass of water for when you regain consciousness and some pain killers he knows you’ll probably need.

Eddie gets in beside you, pulling you close, rubbing your arm as you breathe softly into him. A few minutes pass before you start to open your eyes. He looks down at you, brushing some hair away from your face.

“Hey there you are. How’s my girl doin’?” That smile you love so much is spread across his face.

“Mm, tired. Sore. And very happy.”

“I got you some water and painkillers,” He reaches over and grabs them from his bedside table, “Take these and drink this.”

You sit up a little and do as he says, drinking all of the water in the cup before resuming your position curled up at Eddie’s side.

“So how was it?” A smirk on his face.

“Eh, it was okay I guess. I’ve had better.” Eddie scoffs and hits your arm lightly, which just makes you giggle.

“Damn guess I gotta kill you now. Can’t have you going around telling people I’m only okay in bed,” He retorts back.

You look up at him, “And who else do you think you’ll be sleeping with? Cause if it’s not only me then I’ll keep my promise of castrating you.”

“Oh so you want to do it again, even after it was just okay?” You slap him in the chest.

“I’d do it a million more times if it feels that good after every one,” You say before giving him a kiss, “Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Already am sweetheart,” You give a quizzical look, “Since the day I met you I was yours. Always will be.”

You smile at his words, planting another kiss on his lips, “And I’ll always be yours.”

Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis @witchwolflea @micheledawn1975 @daydreaming-mood @idfwfeelings @adaydreamaway08 @preciousbumplingbee @rustboxstarr @plk-18 @teary-eyed-egg @needylilgal022 @exploding-bonbon @gagasbee @eddiemunsonsguitarpic @aol19 @thatwitchyoucouldntburn