#TEAM MINX

[amc-minx]

I think Sarah defined it best. 😏

[notwerewolf]

FIND ME ON ARTFIGHT!!!!

[bluesnailsstuff]

artfight attack on @z0mbieparty!!!

[notwerewolf-art]

fun in the sun for @kandleking!!

[planetsano]

you know, i feel like choso is the friendly jock who’s really nice to the weird kids and v sweet to you, the shy girl. he eventually makes you his girlfriend officially after some time. but there was definitely a casual hook up phase that lasted for about a month between you two— a little over a month maybe.

you were a virgin when you met him but obviously that changed over time. it’s a little funny because you actually made the first move oddly enough. he held your cheek one night and— you snuggled your face into his palm, enjoying how warm he felt. every time he touched you it felt like a hug, you relished in it a bit with his eyes on you and a small smile on his face. but you completely took him by surprise when you took his hand and sucked on his pointer finger, looking up at him through your lashes.

you were shy but the kind of cock he gave you turned you into a lovesick, little fucking yandere lite. how could it not? he fucked you like he hated you and that was something you’ve never experienced before. you became somewhat of a fiend, really.

you were shy but you had zero qualms letting him split you open right on his thick, heavy cock— whether it be him folding you into a mating press or riding him until you were cross eyed and drooling.

you were shy but you never hesitated to offer your throat to him as if it were some sort of consolation prize when he had a bad day or a particularly rough day at practice— or maybe the team lost the game. just all “oh no! 🥺 would a blow job help you feel better? ♡” you’re so genuine about it too, he thinks it’s sweet. but he feels bad for taking you up on the offer because he feels like he’s taking advantage of you. he’s all you know, your very first boyfriend. often thinking sex = bandaid.

you were shy but the sweet venom that poured from your lips while he pounded into you was anything but coy. “don’t talk to other girls.. i’ll kill them.” it’s a breathy little remark and you say it as you’re about to cum. if anything, it gets him off— turns him on even more.

you were shy but who would have thought you’d turn into such a little cock drunken minx for him. you’re his own personal cheerleader, so willing to please him.

[sloaneispunk]

“it’s all fun & games”

frontman!in-ho x you

a certain sweetheart in the game knows in-ho’s real identity, but will she care when in-ho feels the same way about her?

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒.

“let’s go one round and introduce ourselves, it’s lame calling everyone by their numbers.” you chipped in excitedly, hand rest on the palm of your hands as you eyed in-ho.

he knew the game you were playing, you just wanted to see how long he could keep his identity concealed.

“i’m jung-bae.”

“i’m dae-ho.”

“my name’s jun-hee.”

“and i’m seong gi-hun.”

“i’m y/n and i guess that just leaves you.” you pointed to in-ho who was nervously looking down at the floor.

“i-i’m… young-il.” he said in a low voice.

“young-il!” you giggled, “hey, that matches your number! i wonder if it’s a coincidence!”

“ah, she’s right! 0-1, young-il!” junb-bae clapped his hands as the team laughed.

but in-ho couldn’t care less, he gave you a glare as you tirled a few strands of your hair between your fingers.

this was going to be fun.

even as big of a compromise as you were to his plan, in-ho found himself liking it. not only was it a challenge, but he got to see the cheeky, not-so innocent side of you that no one else could.

by now, he was almost a hundred percent positive that you knew exactly who he was, the frontman. but did he care? no. it was all fun and games, just a little tiny ruse of yours to keep him on his toes.

that night when everyone was tucked into their beds, getting ready to sleep, in-ho sneakily walked up to the side of your bed.

“can i help you?” you chirped, eyes doe-wided as you smiled at him. but he saw right through, you wsnted this to happen.

“what do you think you’re doing?” he gritted out, sitting down beside your bed.

“trying to sleep but some bozo won’t let me.” you scoffed playfully, laughung at your own joke while in-ho didn’t even crack a smile. “what do you want?”

“what do i want? i want you to stop whatever games you’re playing here.” he said sternly, “i don’t know how you figured it out, but they don’t know so keep it down!”

“can’t a girl have some fun?” you looked at him with a pout on your lips. “isn’t it more exciting for you this way, i know you like the thrill as much as i do.”

in-ho took a hold of your jacket, giving you no choice but to lean down towards him, face centermeters away from him as you felt his breath on your cheek.

“look, i don’t care that you have anything to do with the game, i really don’t!” you lifted your arms up subtly in surrender. “but i gotta say, you’re pretty hot for the frontman.”

“yeah? is this what you wanted? you just couldn’t help yourself, huh? you needed my attention?”

“maybe.” you shrugged, causing him to shake his head, chuckling in disbelief.

“you’re something else, y’know?”

“all for you.”

after that, you both went to bed. your mind was racing. was this really going to end well? maybe it was just a stupid crush you had on him, it didn’t really matter. but in-ho had other plans, he’s never met someone so sweet yet cunning at the same time. you had awoken a flame inside of him that he swore was already gone.

during breakfast the next day, you sat close to in-ho legs and arms touching as you got comfortable beside him.

“so what’s your real name?” you whispered to him as the others carried on with their conversation.

“you gonna tell anyone, you minx?” he teased, smiling down at you.

“i promise i won’t.”

“it’s in-ho.”

“in-ho, huh? that goes pretty well with y/n.”

he laughed out loud at your obvious flirting, making the others stop to look at you both.

“sorry.” you apologised to the team as they resumed their talk.

when it came to the ‘six-legged pentathlon’ game, you were paired with in-ho, gi-hun, jung-bae and dae-ho.

“oh, inh-i mean young-il, which game do you think you’ll be good at?” you asked, purposefully slipping up to get a rise out of him once more.

in-ho clenched his fist, he knew it was intentional.

“uh, spinning top, i suppose.” he replied.

“great!” you cheered as the game began.

when it came to your turn, everyone was at the brink of either puking or shitting themselves. yet somehow, you remained composed. in-ho took glances of you many times but he couldn’t figure out how you of all people were so calm.

little did he know, you already knew there was no way you would be able to fail these games. for god’s sake, you had the frontman here with you. and if you would’ve guessed? he wasn’t going to stand there and watch you get shot doen by the guards, you knew you already meant more to him than that.

as an act of revenge for your little ‘slip-up’ earlier, in-ho ensured to fail multiple times at his game, making the team even more so uneasy than they already were. he had to admit, it was satisfying to finally see some hints lf fear in your eyes as he failed.

but eventually, the team had made it out alive at the very last second. you let out a deep breath that you were subconsciously holding in.

“scared now?” a voice came from behind.

you whipped your head around, but was only met with the mischievous grin of in-ho.

“are you fuckin’ crazy?!” you practically yelled at him.

in-ho pulled you into the bathroom as the team continued to make their way to the room without you.

“will you shut up?” he scolded, holding you against the wall.

“you’re telling me you did that on purpose?!”

“wasn’t it ‘exciting’?” he mocked you from earlier, causing you to roll your eyes. “and you’re not so innocent too, calling me by my real name in front of everyone like that?”

“it’s my way of flirting.” you joked, snorting a laugh as he gently put you down.

“flirting?”

“yeah, can’t you tell?” you questioned. “and i think it’s starting to rub off on you too.”

you weren’t wrong. in-ho didn’t only find himself liking your cocky remarks more, but he started to copy them too.

“you’re a minx you know that?” he said.

“i know, and you love it.”

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒.

a/n: this is a lil twist on the sweetheart!reader x in-ho trope and i think it’s pretty cute! i’m still a sucker for lee byung hum, send help.

[lalunanymph]

💭 thinking about . . . . priest!caleb being seduced by succubus!mc

tw. priest!caleb, succubus!mc, wet dreams, heavy religious imagery, inspired by that one fleabag scene (iykyk), guilt, self-flagellation, blasphemy, body worship, mc is possessive over her hot priest

Pure and sure—Caleb, a man cut from the holy cloth, doesn’t entertain the entity in the corner who twirls her hair, licks her lips, trying to get his attention.

“You cannot ignore me for long,” your seductive purr would’ve made a weaker man succumb to your advances.

But, Caleb’s measured control is honed from the strongest blade of repressed self-hatred. He glances at your glistening lips, the silky black dress hugging your figure.

Something sparks in his lower body, but he quickly quenches the desire, focusing on the task at hand.

He picks up a Bible, and holding it over his head, he recites the incantation to banish you away. With every utterance in the ancient text leaving his lips, the bindings drawing you back to Hell grows tighter and you snarl, trying to lunge at him.

Inadvertently, he takes a step back, and he stutters. He falters, and it’s the opening you need.

Your arms wrap around his neck, your lips seeking his with an insatiable hunger. The moment your tongue slips into his mouth, he wakes up with a start.

Father Caleb shivers, sitting up in bed. The lust stirring in his groin is white-hot, his heart palpitating irregularly in his chest. 

Splashing cold water onto his face, the shock does little to stop his thoughts from wondering. Even a cold shower doesn’t help. He cannot get the image of you out of his head; this little minx who stepped into his holy sanctuary and tainted it with all her seductive glory. 

The next day, at mass, as he speaks to the congregation at large, his eyes cannot help but stray to you. 

Despite you looking so innocent—so sweet—in a paisley blue dress and a veil covering your hair, he cannot get the image of his dream out of his thoughts. But, his sharp mind stays on track, and by some miracle, he manages to finish his sermon on the dot. After church, as he wraps up the last of his farewells to the good Christian families around the neighbourhood, he notices a figure kneeling on the frontmost pew, her head bowed and pretty hands clasped together.

Like you two are telepathically connected together, you lift your head and catch his eye.

Quickly signing yourself, you stand and genuflect, before turning around to smile at him. “Apologies, Father. I was just about to leave.”

He maintains a respectful distance from you, and yet, his smile is welcoming and warm.

“No worries, there. You can stay as long as you want. Just make sure to close the door behind you.”

He says nothing else, about to walk away, but your soft voice stops him.

“Father… I know this is sudden, but… I have a confession to make.”

Caleb stops in his tracks. He’s already out of his chasuble, and it’s supposed to be lunch time. But, he swallows down the prick of annoyance and turns to you, smile never faltering.

“Sure. Let’s begin.”

You tell him of these… feelings… you’ve been having for years now. Of needing to be devoured. Taken. Overwhelmed. There are tears in your eyes, the picture of a loathing so deep and shameful, you could never tell your grandma. The sweet old woman would call you a fiend, or worse, ship you off to a nunnery if she found out your true desires. 

As much as Caleb tries to remain impartial, he can’t help the tightening coil in his belly at your words. 

Through the flimsy booth walls, he listens to you prattle on about how you can’t live life like this anymore—feeling so lost and untethered. That you want someone to choose for you, to tell you what to feel, what to wear, how to cheer for a football team—influence you to pick your favorite football team.

That existing as someone with autonomy in this world is hard when all you want is to be directed the way he directs his people—his congregation.

And when you’re done ranting, close to tears, all Caleb can say in this instance is a low, and commanding: 

“Kneel.”

You pause, unsure if you heard him right. “Wh—?”

“I said, kneel.”

Tension, thick and syrupy, coats the narrow space, fogging up the confessional booth with an inexplicable heat. You don’t know what to expect when you follow his command, slipping onto your knees in the middle of the confession booth. Time comes to a standstill, and you’re holding your breath. 

One… two…

“Are you kneeling?” 

You swallow hard. “Yes, Father.”

Silence. And, when you start to wonder if he’s pulling your leg, the confessional curtain is suddenly drawn open. Father Caleb looms over you, tall and formidable. You have never noticed how broad his shoulders are underneath his cassock, and when he kneels before you, his touch is tender on your cheeks, holding you like you’re some precious thing worthy of salvation.

His lips slam into yours, and it feels like a world only for two. This moment is made to break every rule in the book, and when his tongue slides into your mouth, you moan softly, like a penitent dissolving into a sea of sin. 

You’re losing yourself in his touch, and when he stands, he brings you along with him, pushing you against the cool stone walls of the church. The moment lasts for what feels like an eternity—only when he pulls away, a thin strand of saliva connecting to your lower lips, does it strike you what has conspired. It seems that Father Caleb, too, realises his mistake, and he drops his grip from your cheeks, as if the fires of Hell have begun to lick at his hands.

“I must go.”

He doesn’t spare you a second glance, hurrying out of the sanctuary and away, leaving you painfully wanting and needy for him.

The guilt eats away at him till the evening sun sets. Caleb cannot get the memory of your lips out of his mind, and the taste of your breath on his lips. 

God, forgive me… He picks up the flogger in the corner of his room and rips off his shirt, kneeling right at the altar where Saint Anthony stands, his beady eyes joining a cacophony of religious figures staring down at this broken man who is a lost cause. Every rip of the whip on his skin tears another chunk of his self-hatred, soothing the iron fires of his remorse to numb it with the pain. 

Driblets of red dot the floor and he’s breathing hard, mind white with pain. His hand trembles as he prepares for another hit onto his lower back, when he feels a presence behind him. 

“Caleb—stop…” 

Your sweet voice fills his mind like a fine mist. He squeezes his eyes closed and leans forward, gasping for breath.

“God,” he mumbles, “I’m hearing things.” But, someone grazes his shoulder, and for the first time in his life since walking the holy path, Caleb feels pure, unadulterated fear. A feminine touch caresses his bicep, and he tenses, frozen.

It cannot be. “Caleb,” your sweet voice slips through his consciousness, and your lips touch the open laceration on his back. “I’m here.”

A dark thrill shoots up his spine, and he opens his eyes. He feels a rush across his skin, losing control when he spins around to find you astride his bed, no longer looking so innocent but in that same dress from his wet dream last night. He knows what you are, says your name in his mind, and you entertain him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“Succubus.”

“True,” you purr, movements slow and languid as you lay on his bed, slipping your hand down to your thighs, sensually tracing the outline of your body under his scrutinising gaze. Caught in your tide, Caleb feels like he’s drowning. But, he cannot surrender.

To give in would be to lose the holy light of his life. He tries to stay grounded, and yet, the sight of you threatens to make him break his composure. 

“You should leave.” 

The tremble in his voice makes your blood-red lips curl into a smile. “Is that really what you want?” 

Hypnotised, he finds his feet leading him right to the bed. As if out of control, he kneels right before your spread thighs, and you can taste his surrender right on the tip of your tongue. 

“Why?” He manages to ask. “Why are you tormenting me?” 

You reach out to play with the silver chain around his neck, tugging him up towards you with it. 

“Why not? Nothing gives me more pleasure than to watch a strong man crumble.”

And, crumble he does. 

He loses himself in your body, your taste, your touch. It’s the first time in a long time he feels a woman’s walls sucking him in, and yet, he inexplicably knows you’re not of this mortal realm. With every touch and caress, you claim a bit of his soul, straying him further and further away from the light. 

Caleb can’t stop himself from pressing kisses along your supple body, fully wrapped in this unforgivable sin. Like a dog, he pants right at your altar, your desire dripping in his mouth like the sweetest manna the skies could never offer. The word and his vows mean nothing, not when he’s pounding into you from above, grunting and groaning your name into the crook of your neck.

When he takes you from behind, he swears you give a new meaning to the word ‘religion’. From the arch of your back to the way your shoulder blades move under his ministrations, he finds himself dry-mouthed with ecstasy. 

Mea culpa… mea maxima culpa…

Under the watchful eyes of the saints and even God himself, he spills inside of you for the third time in the night, his life force seeping straight to your core, sustaining you while leaving him feeling emptier than ever. But, the high humming in his veins puts him on cloud nine. He is a man born anew, baptised by your body and lust.

When he falls asleep next to you, your fingers slowly run through his hair, and you make eye contact with the scowling portrait of Saint Anthony perched on his makeshift altar.

Softly, smugly, you whisper: “I win.”

♡ feedback and reblogs are appreciated

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[pizzaapeteer]

Jealous

Enzo gets jealous and tries to keep his cool. Inspired by this song. Fluff, enzo being his usual cheeky shit, bold reader. The usual swearing warning.

A/n: This is dedicated to my wifey @amongemeraldclouds i love you so much enjoy!!! It's not birthday related but it is a present for you my love 🤍🫂🎉 although I had it proofread I'm still 4 mimosas deep so hopefully its okay!!! divider from here

In the cool shade of the transfiguration courtyard, Lorenzo sat tucked amongst the bustle of his friends, taking in the familiar whiffs of their morning smoke and the sweet dew dripping down from surrounding leaves. His body reclined in relaxation, his legs spread, oozing with a confident manner as if nothing could irk his contentment.

His face rests carefree with a casual smirk, listening to the spurts of nonsense his friends ramble on about. He adds in his two cents here and there, his eyes shifting around the scenery of the courtyard, amused by the tight-knit group of Slytherins that had become his best mates. Regardless of how stupid the debate was, spending time in the company of them was his favourite pastime before the long drone of classes began.

Suddenly his ears perk like a radio signal, tuning in on the captivating sound of your distinctive laugh. His body tenses, sitting up with alert reflexes. His eyes narrow, probing the area for his target. You, laughing? Without him in sight, unheard of. He wouldn't stand for someone else making you laugh. You were his girl. Well, unofficially, but he knew, and he was certain you did too. Despite the division of you being sorted into Ravenclaw, Lorenzo had continued to keep contact, your relationship stronger than some house separation. You were the one exception outside of his friends of snakes- an honour, really, for Lorenzo Berskhire only had the best.

His brow creases with a sharp frown, finding you encircled by a few of the Ravenclaw quidditch team players with none other than that wicked, impudent expression on your face. He watches how you interact flirtatiously, having the audacity to do so, while his jersey sits possessively on your shoulders. Little minx. His gaze doesn't cease, staring with an intensity that could burn through your skull and yet you don't notice him.

The earlier conversation with his friends blurs and a deep scowl morphing in a way that didn’t suit his pretty face. He stands, his body seething with jealous adrenaline, determined to weasel his way over into the conversation if you were to blatantly ignore him. You were relentless, cheeky and outgoing. You always liked to push his buttons in ways that left him strung up on how you really felt. His feet move on their own accord, striding towards you with a composed swagger, reigning in his temper with a deep discipline, approaching with a fake warmness only you'd spot.

“Hey fellas, how we doin over here?” Subtle bitterness slithers in his words, under the playful demeanour he presents, his grin friendly to the group, like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Making himself at home, outstretching his arms around you and the nearest guy standing deathly too close to what's his. He tenderly caresses your skin with a hint of possessiveness, while his fingers dig into the guy's shoulder with an unrelenting force that makes the guy's muscles twitch painfully. “Keepin my girl company, huh?” 

“Your girl?” A chorus of confusion arises from the group, the guy under Lorenzo's grip now desperately trying to escape his hold at the new revelation. Ending up on the wrong side of Berkshire is certainly not a fate he wishes to fulfill.

You just laugh, doing nothing to deny being called his, reaching up and ruffling Enzo's hair in a loving manner. “Play nice, Enz. We’re just having a chat.”

He gives you an innocent smirk, though his eyes hold little amusement for the situation, an icy vehemence that would send shivers down a Hungarian horntail's back. "What? I'm always nice y/n."

Meeting his eyes, you can only smile, amused by his sarcasm, fighting back the eye roll.  Sensing his emotions heightening with every second you linger around the other guys, you finally excuse yourself, allowing him to steer you away with eager dominance. He covers his initial jealousy, cracking a wide grin down at you, his arm bringing you closer to his side, walking indoors to the castle, leaving the others standing dumbfounded.

“You just love to test me, don’t you, pretty girl?” His eyes glisten with tease, tapping his fingers on your shoulder, making sure you can’t escape his embrace. He loves it when you let him hold you, even if not as intimately as he would like. He’ll take what he can get with you. 

You laugh, bumping his hip, “Oh please, I was just saying hi to my house athletes. All friendly play here.” 

He snorts, flicking your head with a finger, “I’m the only athlete you should get friendly with.” He presses a kiss to your temple afterward, but really only so he can whisper in your ear. “Wearing my fuckin jersey and all.” 

“Oh, don’t be jealous Enzo,” You playfully brush off his unsatisfactory attitude with a cheeky grin, eyes sparkling with delight and mischief.

“Jealous?” He huffs, a dry chuckle. Stopping in his tracks, he tugs you abruptly into the nearest crevice, looming down on you with disbelief. “What's there to be jealous of?” His tone comes across feigning confusion and nonchalance, trying to keep his cool. His eyes study yours, while subtly trying to gauge what you're thinking. 

Despite his significant height and build that would reduce someone to nothing, you feel no form of intimidation craning your neck up to peer at him with more interest, bearing another amused smile. "You really think I’m that oblivious?” When he offers no response, you jab at his chest with slight aggression, stifling a laugh. “You do! You absolutely do!” 

He looks at you with real puzzlement, now scratching the back of his neck. “You’re fucking playing with me, aren't you?” His eyes narrow at what he thinks is a joke, a game, another moment where you leave him flustered and his jaw on the floor. 

Studying his expression, the deep frown of his brow like a confused puppy, you note the suspicion in his eyes. “I like you when you're jealous. Means something you value is being threatened. Though you're not one to threaten easily, are you, Enzo? " It's hard to stop smiling when you're around him. The way the two of you bicker and banter with one another, and right now, it's impossible not to tease him. "You really like me, don’t you?"

The surrounding air slows, his throat constricting like a hose with a coil in it, his gaze doesn't shift from the cute cocky grin on your face. Fuck fuck fuck. Be cool. Be fuckin cool. A smirk graces his face and he taps your nose. “Course I like you sweetheart, you're my best friend.” 

As if a dark cloud conjured suddenly hid all the joy, your once playful expression drops, and a fury resembling deep offense overcasts it. An attitude spits out with flicks of venom, reminding him instantly how powerful you'd be as a Slytherin. “Did you just try to fucking friend zone me? Lorenzo Berkshire! Take that back right now or I swear-"

“Oh shit fuck! Y/n I’m kidding alright!” He grabs your wrist as you continue aggressively poking his chest with a powerful force for such a small thing. “Calm yourself, women.” He mutters before grabbing your other hand and stopping another attempted assault from you, pinning them against the wall above your head. 

“Merlin, you're a firecracker.” He comments, but it lands more like a compliment. He takes the moment with you defenseless to appreciate your beauty. The anger simmers, taken back by the sudden submissive hold he traps you in, eyes widening with calming breaths. His forehead presses onto yours with an intimate touch that makes your heart pound- vulnerable for once. He notices the fire beginning to light in your eyes, filled with yearning and desire. “I do like you, a fuck ton.” He drops one hand and taps your chin, “You’re my girl ain’t you?” 

His smile is sweet and genuine and it melts all remaining anger away as he admits honestly that you're his. A sheepish laugh leaves you, and the two of you lock eyes, his lashes brushing featherlike against your nose in his bending position. His breath tickles along the ridges of your lips, and you lick them, finally mirroring his expression. "why don’t you kiss me like I am then?” 

Enzo doesn’t need to be told twice. His lips capture yours without hesitation, the fullness of his eager lips slide perfectly, overlapping with yours. It’s soft and sweet, but there’s urgency and longing unravelling throughout the kiss. He releases his grasp on your hands, cupping your jaw and threading his hands into your hair. As though he’s afraid that this moment is a dream that will crumble if he lets go. 

His lips are everything you imagined, like a warm and inviting hug. The moment comes as naturally as a morning sunrise, like a river flowing carefree down a bank, or how two cats rub their heads together affectionately purring with love. It's natural, like everything that is between the two of you. It's like home. His tongue pushes with a fiery demand, greedily searching for more now that you're finally giving him some certainty on your feelings. His mind is a mess with a clouded blur, he pushes you further into the dark corner as his lips continue to overlap with an exceeding ravenous passion. 

You pull back, stopping him from losing himself completely, and grin breathlessly, brushing your nose along Enzo's, who hasn't pulled away fully. His eyes remain closed, his lips a plush red, and he bites down hard, containing the verbal protest of wanting to stay close to you. 

“Pretty good Berkshire.” 

His own sinful train of thought is stopped in its tracks as you bring him back to reality with your cheeky jab, and he chuckles a breathless laugh. “Pretty good?” His voice a little hoarse and husky, his eyes finally fluttering open clearly still affected by your touch. “Please, I’ve made you starstruck. Look at those rosy cheeks.” He counteracts arrogantly, rubbing the apples of your cheek with his thumb. He speaks with confidence and with no room for argument. “I’m a damn good kisser, y/n.” 

“Yeah aight, I’ll give you a good rating in the quibbler.” 

He laughs, kissing your forehead with a fondness despite his next words. “You're such a little shit, like I’d read that junk.” He retreats back, admiring how your eyes shine with impish intent, tempting him. He wants to kiss you again and again till you're blue in the face, panting and gasping for air, your mind needy with desperation for him and only him. “Though maybe you’d be interested in testing out a few other things to add to your review?” His eyes gleam with sexual intention, a smug smirk gracing his face, making it difficult for you to refuse. 

“Oh yeah? I'd like to se..-" The words die off when a high-pitched mewl echoes through the halls and a blur of black fur grabs your attention. You quickly recognizethe fluff ball as your cat. "Oh shit! is that ken?" The cat scampers past the two of you with frightened, wide eyes before fang bounds past as well, chasing close on his tail. Without hesitation, you step out of Enzo's embrace, chasing afterwards to rescue your favourite feline.

Enzo turns in confusion at the quickness you ditch him for your pet, watching you disappear down the hall. He drags his hand across his face in irritation, finally choosing to follow, muttering to himself. “You got me out here chasing the wrong kind of pussy.”  

masterlist. thank you for reading! lemme know if you wanna be on a general taglist by commenting or dming to be added. taglist: @2dloveshp 🤍 my fuckin bb

[sun-kissy]

sanctuary | bucky barnes

bucky barnes x reader — ★ — wc 1.1k

summary: bucky is worried about you when you’re overworking yourself

cw: fluff, reader is a newly recruited avenger, reader is exhausted, please don’t read too much into this — definitely not self indulgent!!

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you call back shakily, not slowing. Punch after punch after punch gets thrown at the poor bag hung from the ceiling.

Bucky observes quietly as he leans against the wall of the training room. You’re dripping in sweat, though it looks like some kind of elixir in the moonlight. “It’s late. You should be in bed.”

“So should you.”

He quirks a lip upward. You’re stubborn, just like him. “I don’t have to work a 9 to 5 tomorrow.”

You cast him a glaring glance. “Working a 9 to 5 has nothing to do with this.”

“Oh yeah?” he pushes himself off the wall, crossed arms falling to his sides as he steps towards you. “So staying up late and training, waking up in the wee hours of the morning to study — none of this has anything to do with the fact that you’re working eight hours tomorrow?”

You don’t reply.

Bucky was worried about you, though he hated to admit it.

He saw you even when you didn’t think he did. You’re gone all morning for school or work, and come back to training sessions with the Avengers. Then you spend whatever time you have left studying, exercising, or whatever else it is you’re doing with the lights in your room turned on all night. Not that he was checking.

Being a new recruit on the team did mean that you had to work hard, but Bucky was sure what you were doing had to have been way past the threshold of hard work; probably on the edge of burnout.

He keeps his gaze locked on you, watching the sweat flicking off with each fist you slam against the bag. It’s robotic, almost, except for how your punches get harsher with each passing second.

“You know you’re gonna burn yourself out if you keep at this?” Bucky tries again.

“I’m fine.” There’s a sharpness to your tone. It pinches his heart in all the wrong ways.

He comes closer until he’s right in front of you, until just a centimetre off would result in the punching bag slamming him in the guts. But he knows you wouldn’t do it.

“Y/n,” he starts again, softer.

Your punches start to slow. Less and less aggressive, till you’re glaring down at your gloves and the punching bag is left bobbing with the momentum.

“I said I’m fine.”

Bucky’s heart squeezes at how defeated you sound. Dead, almost.

He steps closer yet, and he can see it. The bags under your eyes, chapped lips and droopy eyelids. You’re exhausted. “You’re not fine, doll. You’re overworking yourself.”

Your eyebrows bunch up at his words. You continue to stare downwards, bottom lip pulled between your teeth. He has to resist the urge to cup your cheek and gently pull it free. Instead, he settles on resting his hand on your arm.

“I…” you mutter, tensing up for a moment before relaxing into his touch. “I’m not overworking myself. I’m doing what I have to do.”

You hardly look like you believe it yourself. Bucky sighs.

“You’re doing much more than that, doll. You’re always working. Do you ever rest?”

You frown. “But I can handle it.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Look at yourself.”

“Is that your way of telling me I’m ugly?”

Bucky snorts. “You’re far from ugly, you little minx. You know what I mean — you look dead tired, and I’m sure you feel it too.” He squeezes your elbow, not unkindly. “Do you even sleep?”

You shrug, and that’s all the response he needs.

Bucky exhales exasperatedly, moving his hand down to take your fingers in his. You make a noise of protest as he starts to drag you out the training room.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re taking me?”

He sighs when you claw your fingers into his arm, trying to gain friction and come to a stop.

“I —“ he wraps his metal arm around your waist, hoisting you up and ignoring your yelp, “— am taking you to bed; where you would’ve already been if you took proper care of yourself.”

You squawk, patting his back in a hopeless attempt to be released. “Put me down!”

“Nope.”

“Bucky!”

“Yes?”

“Put. Me. Down.”

“No. If you’re not going to rest, I’m going to make you.”

You groan.

His lips curve into a small smile when you finally stop protesting, your head coming down defeatedly to rest on his shoulder. He carries you up the stairs and into your room.

Bucky lays you down with all the gentility he can muster, which is surprisingly a lot. You mutter a begrudging thanks and instinctively crawl under the covers.

He immediately spots your phone on the nightstand. He takes it before you can, holding it up to your face to unlock it.

You grimace. “What are you doing?”

He squints at the tiny screen, fingers poking here and there. “Turning off all your alarms.”

“I have work tomorrow!”

“You also have off-days,” he mutters, waving you off and putting the device where you can’t reach.

You sigh for what must’ve been the hundredth time that day, rubbing your forehead frustratedly. Bucky softens.

He comes to sit on the edge of the bed, smiling at the petulant look you were giving him. Something in him stirred at the sight; you looked so childlike, so innocent. The need to protect you was strong.

“Listen,” he starts gently. “Like I said before, you need rest, okay? Just — try not to think about work, or school, or anything tonight. Relax.”

You exhale, some tension slowly leaving your features. You seem to be contemplating what to say, maybe whether to ask him if he could reschedule your shift for you, talk to your professors about your absence. Bucky was ready to say yes, yes I’ll do anything you want me to. Yes, I’ll do it because it’s you.

You look up at him nervously. “Am I gonna be okay?”

Bucky opens his mouth. He blinks and shuts it.

He rakes his fingers through his hair with a soft sigh and nods slowly. “Yeah, doll. Yeah, you’re gonna be okay.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

You stay quiet for a moment before nodding, letting yourself sink fully into the mattress. He smiles at the sight.

“Goodnight.” Bucky stands up.

“Goodnight,” you mumble back. He watches as you tug the covers up to your chin, eyes fluttering shut.

He makes his way across the room.

“Bucky?”

He hums in response, turning back around.

“Thank you.”

He feels his heart do a little jump. He can’t stop the smile from spreading across his lips. “You’re welcome, doll. Now get some sleep, yeah?”

You nod, already starting to drift off.

Bucky closes the door as he steps outside. The lights in your room are turned off for the first time in a long, long time.

[pseudowho]

The Wrong Tie

18+, MDNI, voyeurism, semi-public sex, hints of a foursome

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It was a rainy spring day, when the rumour started that Nanami Kento and Higuruma Hiromi were having an affair. It was categorically untrue-- all a misunderstanding; but their wives wouldn't confirm that.

The faculty meeting, an all-day "team building event" was dull, a monotonous slew of games and personality tests, to drive those of a more practical mind to madness. The steady shhhhhh of rain against the windows only made it worse. Higuruma Hiromi was on the verge of sleep. Nanami Kento was lost in his own mind, reading on a tropical beach somewhere.

Kento felt the smooth slide of one small hand across his upper thigh, under the desk, and let out a quiet, involuntary grunt. His wife sat beside him, apparently interested in the presentation, and her hand slid higher, and higher, and higher. Kento felt his pulse quicken, leaning forwards on steepled fingertips, trying not to groan when clever fingers undid his zipper, and slipped through to squeeze his rapidly hardening cock through his boxers. Kento twitched his cock inside her grasp, and was rewarded with her biting her lip, her breath hitching.

Hiromi was already fantasising about his wife, sat opposite him, as sleep began to claim him. He jumped out of his seat, and excused it as a sudden, violent cough, when his wife trailed her bare stockinged toes over his lap. Hiromi grasped her foot under the table, giving a warning tickle to the arch. It did not dissuade her at all, and she rolled the ball of her foot insistently over the thickening bulge beneath Hiromi's zipper. His legs went lax, spreading, as his hooded eyes sat half-open, slack-jawed and humping involuntarily against her foot beneath the desk.

"Alright everyone...a ten minute break, and then we'll meet back in here. There are snacks in the staffroom."

Neither couple could last. Everyone flurried from the room, with all but four hurrying for the best choice of snack.

Kento dragged his wife into the nearest store cupboard, deep, dark and narrow. She giggled at the manhandling, and felt herself lifted into a shelf near the end. "You dirty little minx," he rumbled against her throat, rucking her blouse aside to drag one breast out, pawing at it, kneading and licking. She laughed, happy to be used, and threw his jacket and tie to the ground as he tucked her skirt around her waist, and began to hook out his heavy, pre cum wettened cock.

The door open and closed with a brief snippet of sunlight, and a slam, and Kento heard Hiromi's voice, and his wife's giggling; "Trying to get me to cum on your foot, in the middle of a meeting? You fucking menace. Only one place I'll be cumming, and it's a little bit more discre--"

"Higuruma."

"Oh, Nanami-- shit."

"Shit."

"Shit."

A moment of silence. A quiet shuffle as Hiromi pressed his wife face down, bent over, to the shelf that Kento's wife sat on. Kento scowled, unable to see in the dark. His cock throbbed, stroking between his wife's plush, wet folds; he was desperate. Hearing how Hiromi moaned, cursing as he rolled his wife's skirt up, and slapped her on the arse, he was just as pent-up.

"...we share the cupboard."

"Fuck yes we share the cupboard, Nanami. These two need to be taught a lesson."

Kento couldn't hold back any longer. Listening to Hiromi shred his wife's stockings at the crotch, and shove her panties aside, sent a shiver through him. Kento leaned over his wife, who was still suckling at his throat, and planted both hands on her hips before slamming into her to the hilt, with a husky, ragged moan. She squealed at the sudden, sharp fullness, and Kento clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Want to fuck with me in work hours? Fine. You're the one with my cum dripping down your thighs all day."

Hiromi laughed, landing one more sharp slap to his wife's arse, before dipping his cockhead to her entrance, and sinking inside with agonising tenderness. She whimpered, gasping, clutching at the shelf in front of her. Hiromi doubled over her, his belly to her back, mocking her gently.

"Aren't you two going to be a lovely matching pair? All full of cum with nowhere to go."

While it wasn't definitely a Wife-Fucking-Competition, it hardly seemed coincidental, how each man found his wife's throbbing little bud with devastating accuracy. How, when Kento slammed his wife so hard onto his cock that she sobbed and begged for mercy, Hiromi reached forwards and grabbed his wife by the roots of her hair, growling against the back of her neck like a man possessed. How, when Hiromi made his wife squeal, Kento tried to make his wife squeak louder.

At one point, the wives held onto each others' hands for dear life as their husbands dragged them through their orgasms, over hot coals.

"--that's it-- fffuuuuck, sound so pretty," Hiromi cooed to his wife, two fingers underneath her and rolling over her clit as she tried to scoot away, mewling and overstimulated, "-- ah ah ah, we're done when I-- haaaah, shit-- say we're done, sweetheart-- gonna fuck you-- fuck you stupid-- hold onto something--"

Kento held his wife gently by the throat, squeezing just hard enough, as his thumb and forefinger rolled around her clit, that her peak spread, electric, through every single nerve; "--that's right...beautiful. Can feel you milking me, shit-- gonna cum right in your belly...just where you like it. Won't need-- f-fuck-- so good-- won't need lube later...just fuck this seed right back into you, hmm?"

Kento didn't want to admit that hearing two women become whining messes around him was something of a buzz. When he came, it was with violently competitive satisfaction, as Higuruma had spilled his seed just moments before. Hiromi didn't give a fuck; he was lost in the sound of Kento's cock squelching into his wife's aching pussy. Kento never took Higuruma for such a whimperer. Hiromi never knew Nanami could fall apart like that.

Both men spilled more seed than they ever had, the testosterone thick in the air. Their wives almost regretted their misbehaviour-- almost. Each wife stood on shaky legs, trying to stop drips of cum running past the hems of their skirts, while Hiromi and Kento dressed in a hurry, breathless and trying not to laugh.

They made it back to the meeting room in time, the wives entering first, trying not to stagger into their seats. Kento and Hiromi entered after, mostly straightened out. They were busy trying to look normal. Neither of them noticed how eyes flickered to their flushed faces, Kento still quietly panting, Hiromi with a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. Eyes flicked to their chests, and back up to their faces. The next stage of the meeting was awkward, at best.

Gojo approached Hiromi at the lunch break, and Hiromi almost spat out his coffee when Gojo leaned into him, and whispered; "...why are you wearing Nanami's tie, huh? Anything you two need to tell us?'

Hiromi's horrified, pale face shot down to another man's leopard print tie on his chest, then shot up, searching for Kento. Kento looked across the room, his face impassive, but his eyes screaming...in an unusually muted black tie.

The wives had noticed, earlier. They enjoyed their lunch, chatting and blushing, with cum still cooling between their legs, pretending they knew nothing.

[chamomiletealeaf]

having absolutely desperate floor sex with one of the 141 men after him being over protective at the bar and pawing at you in the bar and in the car all night

who said that???

THIS IS SO SIMON OMG

The thought of rough floor sex with him is just 🥴🥴🥴

Warnings: afab! fem reader, manhandling, oral sex (f! receiving), floor sex, prone bone, doggy, dom! Simon, kinda jealous and possessive Simon if you squint a bit

Imagine you’re out with him and the team, wearing that dress he loves so much and other men seem to love too. The bartender keeps flirting with you and Simon grips your hip or thigh harder and harder every time he does and gives him the death stare.

God is this bartender ever gonna learn when to shut it?

You notice Simon getting irritated and announce you want to dance. You grab Simon’s hands and drag him along knowing he’s gonna hate it, but at least it gives you a chance to show him you’re his.

He follows you to the dance floor, not wanting you out of his sight. You start swaying your hips to the music and Simon just stands and watches you with hungry eyes, his hands in yours still.

Although his skull mask hides everything but his eyes up, you can tell he’s desperate for you. It’s in his eyes.

So you turn around and press your ass to his front, grabbing his hands and moving them to your hips, still swaying your hips to the music right on his hard on starting to form and he grips your hips like you would run away if he didn’t.

He leans his face down to your ear and whispers:

“Quit doin’ that or I’ll fuck you right here on this dance floor.”

And you, being the tease you are, press your ass even harder into him with a smirk and he growls in your ear.

“Let’s go.” He grumbles and pulls you by the waist flush against him through the crowd and the rest of the team sees you two as you walk by.

Simon doesn’t look at them but you quickly say goodbye while Simon is practically dragging you out of there and Johnny and Gaz look at each other and laugh, knowing what’s about to happen.

Simon doesn’t say a word the whole way to the car and you giggle to yourself, liking the effect you’re having on him. He doesn’t say a word on the car ride home but he drags his hand up and down your inner thigh, giving you a pinch every time you make some snarky remark about how some innocent flirting from the bartender got him so worked up.

Then at each red light he drags his hand all the way up to your pussy covered by a thin, baby blue thong and he rubs you through it, making you spread your legs for him even further, but he never puts his fingers in, teasing you as much as you did him.

When you two finally get back home he pulls you out the passenger seat. And the second you get inside, his lips are on yours immediately. He kisses you roughly, his tongue licking at yours and he walks, making you walk backwards to wherever he’s leading you.

He leads you into the bedroom but before you get to the bed he stops you.

“Bend over the vanity. Lemme see these little panties you got on.” He demands, saying the first words he’s said since the bar. And you bend over the black vanity he built for you right by the bed.

Simon hikes your dress up and hums in appreciation when he sees your baby blue thong with a cute pink bow on the front and he gives your ass a smack, making you jump and whine.

“Well fuck me. You had these on this whole time? Hm? Around the guys as well? Fuckin’ minx.” He says, and he presses his full hard on against your ass with a death grip on your hips while he leans over your back to grunt in your ear.

“Gonna eat this sweet little pussy out.” He says almost to himself as he drops to his knees so he’s eye level with your pussy.

“Fuck lovie, look at that wet spot. You like riling me up like this hm?” He says and you nod biting your lip, and he presses his face into your clothed pussy from behind making you whimper.

Simon moans into you and licks you through your panties a few times before dragging his hands down from your hips to pull your panties off.

You step out of them and kick them to the side and he grabs your thighs.

“Get your legs up on my shoulders.” He says, and when you don’t because your brain is too hazy from only thinking about his tongue on your clit, he manhandles you and pulls them up himself so your upper body is pressed against the vanity and your knees are bent on his shoulders while he holds you up. It’s uncomfortable, but fuck does it feel good.

Simon wraps his arms under your thighs and rests his hands on your lower back while he eats you out from behind.

“Fuck Simon right there, just like that.” You moan, wanting to reach back to grab his hair but if you do, you’re afraid you’ll fall, but Simon has you locked in place on his face.

He eats you out like he hasn’t eaten anything in days, shaking his head to push himself deeper, his tongue lapping at your hole and moving down to play with your clit.

As he continues to hold you up and eat you out, you feel your orgasm hit you hard and you shake and can’t hold yourself up anymore, letting your face press into the vanity, eyes rolled back.

“Fuck Simon I- I’m cumming oh my god-“

You say while cumming on his face.

Simon licks you up clean and moans at your taste and the pulse of your pussy on his tongue.

He doesn’t give you a second to adjust before pushing your knees off his shoulders so you stand again, and he pulls you up off the vanity, pushing you onto the ground next to the bed.

He’s so pent up he can’t even wait to get you both on the bed.

So he’s gonna fuck you on the hardwood floor right next to it.

He throws you on the floor face down, palms by your chest to catch yourself and you feel him kneel behind you.

“Arse up.” He says. “Just a little. Arch your back for me.”

You do as you’re told and lift your ass up just a little bit, knees together so Simon can fuck you in a prone bone.

“Fuck look at that.” He says, taking in the sight of your ass and glistening pussy in front of him.

He straddles the back of your legs and lays his weight on your back. He reaches one arm down to wrap around your hips so he can keep your hips up and rub at your clit, and the other arm is wrapped around your throat.

He slides in easily making you both moan and he wastes no time getting to pounding you.

“Been thinkin’ o’ this the whole night. Watching that dumb bloke behind the bar flirt with you. Almost lifted this pretty little dress and fucked you on the bar right in front of him.” He says panting into your ear as he pounds into your pussy, making squelching noises as he does so.

You feel tears form in your eyes from the pleasure of feeling Simon’s full weight on you, his thick arm around your neck, the cold floor pressed against your cheek and the sweet stretch of his cock thrusting deep into you.

“Doin’ so well for me bunny, fuck. Keepin’ that back nice and arched up for me.” He says and you whine in response, trying to keep your arch while he places all his weight on you, using your toes as leverage.

“Ah- f- fuck me Simon yeah-“ you moan out pathetically through tears and he laughs darkly in your ear at your desperation.

“Aww poor bunny. Can barely take it hm? Feel too good?” He mocks, and starts to rub your clit making you gasp, and you nod with a sob.

“Feels so good.” You mewl, and every sob you let out causes your pussy to clench around him which makes his hips stutter and his breath hitch.

You loved when Simon was rough with you, but he’s never just thrown you on the floor and fucked you like this and you were fucking loving it.

Then Simon changes positions.

He releases him arm from around your throat and from under your hips and he sits back on his knees which pushes your legs further apart.

“C’mon bunny on your knees.” He commands.

You tremble as you push your ass up even more so you’re on your knees then you bring your knees back together. Your face is still pressed down on the wooden floor which starts to warm up from your bodies.

Simon leans over your back again, pushing your upper body down and places a hand on the side of your face to keep your cheek pressed to the floor, and his other arm wraps back under your hips while he fucks you in doggy.

The new position makes you squeal once he starts fucking you again and you can’t help but kick your legs out from the pleasure.

“Uh-uh, keep your legs together. Thaaat’s it. What a good little bunny. Taking my cock so well.”

Tears start forming again in your eyes and when Simon starts to rub your clit again that’s when you start to full on sob.

“Gonna cum for me sweets hm? Gonna cum around my cock? Do it. C’mon you can do it. Show me how good I make you feel.”

And with a few more rough and fast circles on your clit and a few more thrusts of Simon’s hips you’re cumming hard with a high pitched whine, pussy clenching him so hard while you throb you nearly push him out every time it pulses with your orgasm.

Your pulsing and squeezing around him causes Simon to cum and he cums deep inside you, filling you up.

“Fuck bunny- yeah that’s it, milk me with that sweet little pussy- fuck- pounding around me so good-“ he says right before he cums in you with a grunt, and you beneath him, eyes half lidded with tears running down your cheeks and your mouth open drooling on the floor.

You two stay like that for a minute before Simon picks you up and finally places you on the bed.

“How you feelin’ sweetheart?” He asks.

“S- so good.” You say, still in a daze from the orgasm he just gave you.

“Maybe I should let the bartenders flirt with me more often if this is how it ends.” You say with a smirk and he laughs.

“Oh sweets, you know all you have to do is ask.” He says with a smirk before kissing your forehead and lips. “And don’t joke about that.” He says more sternly this time before he goes to get a towel to clean you up, making you laugh.

Simon was the only one for you, and you both knew it.

[holysainz]

silly season - lando norris

pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader

warnings: innuendos

summary: fans get a glimpse into your relationship on a stream

You walk into Lando’s gaming room, a cup of hot chocolate topped with tiny marshmallows in hand. His back is to you, headphones clamped over his head, eyes focused on the screen. Lando is always in his element when he's streaming — it’s a joy to see. But today, you’ve been the one tasked with interrupting him. Not that you mind, of course.

“Got your hot chocolate, sweetheart,” you startle him, setting the cup down beside him on the desk. You look at the screen, recognizing the familiar game of F1 2023. “Who’s winning?”

“Verstappen. But it’s just a virtual race,” Lando chuckles without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Ah, so you admit you’re losing?” You tease, earning a playful glare. You laugh at his mock annoyance, then start to saunter out of the room.

Before you can make your exit, however, Lando grabs your wrist, pulling you back. “Wait, I need you.”

You spin around, your eyebrows raised in surprise. His words hang in the air, and for a moment, a suggestive smirk plays on your lips. “Really, Lando? On a live stream?”

His cheeks flush as he quickly shakes his head, his laughter joining yours. “Not like that, you minx! I need you to stay here and distract the competition with your terrible driving.”

“Ah, so that's how it is,” you retort, grinning at his playful sidestep. “I’m your secret weapon now, am I?”

With a chuckle, he grabs the spare controller, throwing it to you. “Only the best for Team Norris.”

“Well then, prepare to lose!”

What you don’t realize is that Lando’s stream is live, and all his fans are eagerly watching the banter unfold.

Lando chuckles, setting up the second controller. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

The race starts and immediately, it’s a comedy of errors. You’re not very good at the game to say the least and you crash into a wall within the first thirty seconds.

“Hmm, you do know the point is to avoid the walls, right?” Lando teases, his fingers moving deftly over the buttons of his controller.

You shoot him a feigned glare, and he laughs, his attention fixed on the screen as he smoothly overtakes one of the opposing cars. “Maybe you should stick to delivering hot chocolate, love.”

“No way,” you say stubbornly. “I’m going to beat you at your own game, Norris.”

“Ah, spoken like a true underdog!” He laughs, and the sound of it makes you grin, even as your car crashes into another wall.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the screen, Lando’s fans are loving every moment. Their favorite F1 driver showing his fun side, coupled with your charming wit, is an unbeatable combination.

The chat box fills with amused comments:

‘OMG, she’s hilarious!’ ‘Lando, you’re losing your touch!’ ‘Can we have her on every stream?’

Laughing and teasing each other, you keep trying to maneuver your car with minimal success. You playfully jab at Lando’s concentration, saying, “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be good at this?”

“I am good!” he protests, “Just not when you’re trying to distract me.”

“Oh, am I a distraction, Norris?” you ask, raising your eyebrows suggestively. “Is it because I make your gear stick shift?” The playful innuendo makes Lando choke on his laugh.

“A very attractive distraction, yes,” he responds, and it’s your turn to blush.

The comments explode:

‘Did he just—‘ ‘They are too cute!’ ‘I can’t even.’

Eventually, Lando wins the game, but not without a few crashes of his own. As you watch the virtual champagne spraying over his character, you say, “Well, you won. But I’d like to see you do this in real life.”

Without missing a beat, Lando responds, “What, win a race or put up with you?”

“You better keep it clean on the track, Norris,” you retort, giving him a sly wink. “Because the way you’re driving here, you won’t be able to handle the curves!”

You gasp dramatically when he laughs at your comment. “Lando Norris! I’ll have you know I’m a delight to put up with.”

He laughs, pulling you into a hug. “Yes, you are. You’re my favorite distraction.”

With that, Lando ends the stream, laughing at the barrage of comments from his fans. You sit there with him, sharing in his laughter, completely oblivious to the fact that you were just part of an international live stream.

But you don’t care. All that matters to you in that moment is Lando’s laughter, the warmth of his arm around you, and the joy of sharing these simple, perfect moments with him. And if his fans loved it too, well, that was just an added bonus.

[daenysx]

6.45am with James please? <3

6.45 AM | JAMES POTTER

"i need to go." james says, his words are true but his voice betrays him. "let me go, you minx."

you wrap your arms tighter around him. "please, just five more minutes. i promise i'll get up with you and make you breakfast."

his cheeky smile turns into a fond one in a second. "baby, i can make myself something to eat. it's early, you keep sleeping."

"can't sleep without you."

you are undeniably tired and james is so warm under the sheets. he has amazing hands, he rubs your back so well, he has everything you need for sleeping like a baby. unfortunately he needs to leave for his early practice with the team. if he can leave you here, that is.

"okay." he finally agrees. he can tell the coach a tiny, white lie. "but only five minutes. then i'm leaving."

"i love you." you snuggle closer to his bare chest. "so much."

you kiss his chest more times than he can count. he melts, fuck, you're so adorable, he loves you. he's so in love with you, it makes him forget everything else, like how mad his teammates will be at him for being late.

it's okay. james can handle a few comments of him being a sleepy head if it means he can keep you like this. soft and beautiful, your sleepy eyes and warm cheeks. how bad would it be if he gets breakfast on his way to hold you a bit longer?

"angel." he whispers, you hum. "i need to go now. you stay here, okay? it's raining, you'll be sleeping well."

"wait, breakfast-" you try to lift your head.

"i'll take care of it." he kisses you to silence your worries. "i'll come back early. text me if you want cinnamon rolls from the cafe you like."

cinnamon girl sleepover ♡

[talesof-old]

james potter in grey sweatpants. would literally be on my knees for him i swear

- 🦌

bitchhhh i can’t do this right now 😭 i’m gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

sweatpants | j.p.

pairing(s): james potter x fem!reader

warning(s): 18+, smut but not, suggestive?, dry humping, making out, idk

word count: 520

masterlist

You turned the page of your book, patient as James finished showering. The past three weeks had been hard on your boyfriend, Quidditch practice after practice all day everyday. The team was being worked to the bone, but they’d taken it with far more grace than you would. In the brief glimpse you’d gotten, James’ body seemed wound with tension. Your eye twitched as you heard the shower shut off.

In record time, James was exiting the bathroom, tossing his towel into the hamper. You unabashedly stared. You weren’t blind—James was an exquisite man, toned and solid and strikingly beautiful. Grey sweatpants hung low on his hips and your mouth watered. At this point, you’d practically conditioned yourself to fuck him when wore those pants.

“What?”

Though his smirk was enough to tell you he knew exactly what you were thinking, you shrugged and made grabby hands at him. He all but strutted towards you. You smiled, fingers grazing damp skin as he stood in front of you. James placed his hands in his hips. He fought back a shiver as you traced over his v-line. Years ago, he’d gotten antlers tattooed on his abdomen and you were shameless as you pressed a kiss to the nearest one. James inhaled sharply.

You grinned. Tracing over his brown skin, you ran a finger over the hem of his sweatpants. His dick twitched, a sight that nearly had you moaning yourself. James stiffened, his larger hand coming to rest atop of yours.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You leaned forward, resting your chin on his hip and batting your eyelashes up at him. He groaned. “You’re a minx.” You giggled at the tortured undercurrent of his voice. James was always so confident and charming, it was a gift to see him flustered.

“I’m not sure what you mean, love.” He raised an eyebrow at you, carding through his black hair as if to give his hands something else to do other than grab at you.

“You can touch me, I promise I don’t mind.” He exhaled slowly. Something was warring within him, you could see it in his dark eyes. “And where is it you’d like me to touch you?”

You leaned back on the bed, settling on the pillows and opening your legs.

“Where ever you want.”

James was on you in a breath, crawling onto the bed and kissing you hard on the mouth. He slid a hand underneath your waist and pressed your body tight against his. “Merlin,” he breathed. “You’re,” he paused to kiss down your neck. “So,” he nipped at your collarbone, teeth sending tingles across your skin. “Devious.” He punctuated the sentence by returning his mouth to yours.

You snaked an arm around his shoulders and tangled your fingers in his wet, unruly curls. He whimpered as you tugged on the strands. You grinned, wrapping your legs around his lower body and rolling your hips to grind against his. His dick had gone hard, poking against your pelvic bone. You laughed when James let his head fall to your shoulder.

“You’re gonna kill me, honey.”

+++

[blingblong55]

Hungry Eyes-141&König NSFW

Photo Credit: @ave661

Based on a request: Can I request a headcanon of Minx Fem!Reader with 141 and König, please?  Reader walking around in the base with Red dress, tight fit and high slit thigh. Blood red lipstick saying hello to them boys, salivate. Tq!!  ---- F!Reader, minx!reader, 18+, MDNI, smut ----

You knew what you did to the men of the team, they did too but they can't stop it. Not like they want to anyway. 

It's your day off today and what do you do? Play tricks with them, which is more like a hobby to pass the time. The first thing you do is put on some hormone oil behind your ears and rub it on your wrists. You get yourself ready, a red dress on your gorgeous body, black heels and that red lipstick that drives them crazy. What more can a girl do but watch men thirst over her beauty? Worship, that can be one thing. 

John Price: 

When you walk into his office so he can 'help' you zip your dress up, his breath catches in his throat. 

"Everything okay?" you ask with a smirk. "Yes, uh..yes" his voice tried to play pretend while inside he would die to touch you and fuck that pretty body of yours.  

As you walk past him, all he can do is stare at that ass of yours. The dress made it hard for him to miss the perfect shape of it. 

He groans and walks to his office. "Where are ya going?" Gaz questions. "Have a meeting over the phone," is all Price has to say. 

In his office, the blinds are drawn close, his trousers pulled to his ankle and his boxers are the only thing that keeps his dick from coming out and tempting him to please it. 

"Fuck, Y/N," a groan escapes his lips and he shakes his head. His hands are on his fat cock, stroking it as he pictures those curves of yours.

His fist holding his cock tight, picturing your sweet cunt wrapped around it. Your tits bounce and that red mouth opens as you suck his fingers. What a sight it would be

"Shit...f-fuck" he stammers as pre-cum leaks down his hand. 

His eyes shut close, teeth biting down his lower lip to prevent himself from moaning your name. 

Before he knows it, he moans your name as he cums. His fat cock leaking the one thing he wished your cunt would be filled with. 

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

He tries to be respectful at first but then his eyes wander your body. Hear rises and he shrugs, trying to play it cool. 

When you leave the room and all men head their ways, he finds himself in his room. 

As he strokes his cock, in his other hand, your pink lace panties. He sniffs them and groans, "Fuck, the things you do to me." 

Your scent and the mental image this man formed of you getting fucked by him was too much that soon, he was moaning your name. 

He bit down his bottom lip to prevent any more noise but knowing that maybe you could hear him moan your name was enough to make him keep going. 

Just as he sniffed your panties and the smell consumed him, his cum leaked out, coating his hands and just like always, he cleaned it with your panties, something to hand to you later on. 

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Feral, that is the one word that smile and those curves of yours made him feel.  

Those red lips were enough to have him picture your mouth wrapped around his fat cock. 

Unlike the other men, Gaz was a little more smart in how he pictured you, well...he had that one picture you sent him of the aftermath of a rough mission. 

The exhaustion in your face was enough to have him stroking himself, his balls tightening. Groans and small whimpers would escape when he imagined all the things he would do to you if only you gave him the chance. 

The taste of your sweet cunt, that is the one thing that had him going over the edge and sending you a rather risky text.

"I know you, so just cum for me." As soon as he read the text, he leaned back on his bed, his fist pumping his every needy cock. "Fuck Y/N...such a dirty thing for me," he moans as he cums to simple orders. 

John "Soap" MacTavish:

He's the pervy one, so because of this, he gets himself in your quarters, lays in your bed and undresses. 

Bold, stupid, horny, sexy and smart, that is what you can describe him as since all he does lately is seem to just please himself to you. 

As he lays in your bed, he pulls out his little toy. Your name is carved to the side of the fleshlight. His sensitive pressing against the entrance. 

He chuckles deeply and sighs, "Let me fill you up, bonnie." 

Without any hesitation, he fucks the fleshlight, his cock enjoying the sensation, his body shuddering as he positions himself on his knees, fucking his cock into the toy. 

With his free hand, his phone is pressed to record. And as he records himself moaning your name over and over, he makes sure to angle the camera so you can see clearly how the toy is getting filled. 

By the time he cums, the moans turn to subtle whimpers of your name and some slight curses under his breath. 

König:

The built-up tension on his trousers was too much that soon, he is in a stall, sitting down and stroking himself as he tries to keep quiet. 

The little red dress, the way your soft tits moved as you walked and that goddamn smile you had when you knew he was watch, fuck are you a view for hungry eyes. 

His boxers get covered in pre-cum and all he can do is continue because he needs this, he needs to cum to the thought of you. 

Your soft thighs, that is what he focuses on the most and as he does, he pictures his cock in between them. He would hold you from behind while his cock releases cum on your pretty thighs. 

He feels his orgasm building up and he covers his mouth as he mutes the moans he wishes you heard. 

His cum ruining his boxers and soon enough, he leans back and sighs. 

A/N: Happy Valentines Day, enjoy this and please yourself like they did ;)

Tags: @fanofstuffidk @kas-mccoy07 @mikaronn @love-simon @imasimpsowhat06 @sae1kie @bittermajesties @cross-axis @ess-perspective @thatonepupkai @lake-lili @lovelyvqer @pasanau4 @merivalowrites @luvecarson @goldenmclaren @maylovessyou @kit-kats06 @cookiefanhere @nunezr29 @cringeycookies @liyanahelena @deni-sova @johfaam0 @froggy-anon @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @krinoid24 @istillcantfindausername @iruzias @frizzseaberries @idklols @katybaby00 @spicypicklesoh @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @undercover-smutlover @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @nobodys-coffee @honestlyhiswife @enarien @simonssweetgirl @willowaftxn83-87 @coralwitchdreamland @ikohniik @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @anonymuslydumb @avidreadee123 @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties

[universefcb]

↬❥ Pats and popcorn

Hector Fort x Fem!Reader

sy: Le das una palmadita en el trasero y él te corresponde.

a/n: This is one of the cutest requests I've ever received! And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.

warnings: Cute, butt pats!

SORRY ABOUT THE TIME, I SPENT THE DAY SLEEPING TO REST!

You and Hector hadn't seen each other in three weeks. He was busy with the team and you were busy with college. The calls became shorter and fewer, Hector would tell you how his day had been and you would do the same. Sometimes you would just stay silent on the phone, listening to each other's tired breathing. But now he was there, in your kitchen making popcorn for both of you to eat while watching a romantic movie.

“I love it when you cook for me.” She hugged him from behind, inhaling his bittersweet taste, and smiled, letting her cheek press against his back.

“And I love it when you hug me like this,” he said calmly, taking her hand and giving her a kiss. “Let’s see what I was like before you.

“Not again. We watched that movie last week,” he grumbled. As he waited for the popcorn to finish popping, he felt her small hand slowly caressing his stomach.

“But we didn’t watch it, you kissed me every minute of the movie” she laughed, still clinging to him.

“I can’t stay away from your mouth, sweetie.” He muttered thinly, feeling offended.

“Okay.” She released him, stepping away.

Hector Fort stood distracted, facing the stove waiting for the popcorn to finish. When he felt the first soft slap on his buttocks. He turned around with a start, only to see his girlfriend run away laughing, her eyes shining with mischief.

“Oh, is that so?” he asked, narrowing his eyes with a smile.

She was already in the living room, on the other side of the couch, ready to run away again. But Hector wasn't going to let it go. With a swift leap, he set off in pursuit, their laughter filling the house.

“Come here, you little minx!” he exclaimed, pretending to be indignant but unable to hide the amusement in his eyes.

face. “I’m going to turn your ass all purple!

"I doubt!"

She dodged, running in circles around the room, but soon felt his arms wrap around her in a tight hug. Hector spun her around, leaving her laughing and breathless, before giving her much-deserved revenge—a light but affectionate pat.

“Now we’re even!” Hector declared, leaning his forehead against hers, his heart still racing from the chase.

She smiled, lacing her fingers with his.

“I think I prefer it when you pat me like this…” she stood on her tiptoes, to leave a kiss on his lips.

“I love patting your ass, you naughty child.” Hector chuckled, grabbing his girlfriend’s waist, squeezing lightly.

“I love you!” She felt kisses being placed on her cheek.

“I love you too, my flower.” He left a kiss on her forehead and left for the kitchen, returning seconds later with the huge bowl of popcorn. And you sank into it, filling your hand and taking it all to your mouth.

And then, without further escape, they stayed there, together, laughing at something funny in the movie, eating popcorn, enjoying that love made of jokes, soft touches and a lot of complicity.

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