#also helps that its a three day weekend

[suitsusboth]

alright we a solid half way through the next chapter of lcbtm!

[hockeytwittereats]

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[douubles]

im having a bad stressful week. i would fucking destroy a bag of cheddar & sour cream ruffles right now

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: gn reader but afab with descriptions of feminine clothing (also katsuki calls you princess like once or twice idk), alcohol consumption, everyone is 24+, shouto is bisexual asf, katsuki and reader are married, reader did not go pro, some mlm action (todobaku content scattered throughout bc i am a god and can make them do whatever i want!!), shouto cucks a little bit, also shouto is a nasty closet perv lol, overstimulation, inappropriate quirk usage, oral (reader receiving), spit roasting, backshots, idk what else i could possibly mention other than this is nothing but filth GENRE: SMUTTTT MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI 18+ ONLY SUMMARY: after a party celebrating their top spot as heroes, shoto gets a little too drunk and has to stay the night with you and your husband, dynamight. shenanigans ensue. a new boyfriend is acquired? WORD COUNT: one million billion (jk it’s 10.4K) 🦊’s A/N: god help me. shoutout XENOVA for the celebration party idea. uhm pt2 maybe if this blows up idk. also this was not proofread bc i’m running out of time and it’s too long. and uhm its not exactly manga-canon bc i think deku deserves to be the no.1 hero idgaf. horikoshi when i catch you. // anyway enjoy lol

     it was mina’s idea to hold the party originally, and you who offered to host, since you were the one dating the number two pro hero, dynamight, and had enough space to accompany the old class 1-A. it took a little persuasion from your end to get katsuki on board, but he eventually agreed, despite his bitching about how you two needed to whip this place into shape before anyone dared to set foot into your shared home. 

     this, of course, meant more work for you in the end since your husband was so terribly busy with work. ….that’s not to say he wasn’t helpful, though; of course not! whenever he wasn’t bone tired from whatever villain attack or whatever there was that day, he was more than happy to help you pick up (well…… that’s how the phrase goes, at least; bakugou himself didn’t mind cleaning with you and helping out around the house, per se, it’s just that he always came off as aggressive in the everything that he did) and really start getting the house ready for the upcoming party this weekend. 

     when it was all said and done, everything had been dusted and all the floors swept and vacuumed; the pillows on the living room couch had been fluffed and the kitchen counters were wiped down and had been bleached in preparation for the day you were about to spend in the kitchen cooking for this party. at least katsuki was there to help you with this the most out of all the other chores — and it was really the most time consuming one, too, so his help here was greater than he realized. him being an actually good cook just so happened to be an extra, heaven-sent bonus. 

     despite this, you had actually gone out of your way to prepare three main courses: (cold) soba, katsudon, and then something on the spicier side for your husband for the top three heroes you were celebrating tonight, along with some appetizers and snacks, of course.

     finally, the day of the party was upon you, and you finished running your last couple of errands (namely stocking up on alcohol) right as ashido and the rest of the girls arrived in a limo. …..guess yaomomo went all out, huh? well, it's not like you could exactly blame her—it had been years since you had All been together due to everyone being busy with their own work, even now there were a few who couldn't make it, like satou and koji, or mezou and fumikage, due to circumstances out of their control. it was a shame really, you would have loved to have some of rikido’s sweets since he was such a good baker. ah, must not have been meant to be then. no use in dwelling on it. especially when everyone was beginning to pull up!

     “eeee, my pookie! how have you been!? how’s life with baku—no, dynamight?!” mina eagerly squeals as she runs towards you, arms extended and ready to grip you in a crushing hug. 

     “ackgh–! too tight, too tight–!” you choke out as she squeezes you half to death. 

     “oh, sorry!” she apologizes, letting go and backing up slightly as the rest of the old 1-A girls come up behind her and the limo driver drives back to yaoyorozu’s manor until it was time to come pick the ladies back up. “now. spill all the tea,” she says, giving you a serious look all of a sudden, and you feel a smile stretch across your face. it’s nice to know she’s just the same as she was in high school.

     “well—why don’t you come in and see for yourself?” you gesture to your shared home, to which the girls gawked at in awe. it wasn’t an estate or anything like yaomomo’s place of residence, but it was certainly large enough to accompany everyone attending and then some.

     leading them inside, you open the already unlocked door (katsuki was busy in the kitchen aggressively finishing up the fruit platters and charcuterie boards, making sure they were up to his standards before serving them) and led them all in.

     “kats, ‘m home! n’ all the girls are here!” you shout loud enough from him to hear you from the foyer. 

     your husband swears and grumbles under his breath, eyes darting to look at the clock just as it struck 17:00 (that’s 5pm for those of you who don’t use the 24hr format). goddammit, they were perfectly on time. whatever, he was done arranging the meats and cheeses of the charcuteries anyway. 

     moving to set the trays on the coffee table in the living room for everyone to enjoy, he greets you at the door with the softest little smile ever, one mina just barely catches sight off, which she immediately teases him for and his usual scowl makes a re-appearance in record time as he becomes prickly and sharp again, huffing out a gruff make yourselves at home or whatever. 

     after that, it was another twenty-ish minutes before nearly everyone else arrived. 

     shouto, however, was the last to get there due to him getting into an argument with his father prior to leaving. it was a surprise to even himself that he decided to come anyway, but he had grown to be more sociable than he was back in high school, and also he was one of the three people the party was actually being thrown for, so…. it would just be incomplete without him there, and he recognized that. 

     soon, the party kicked into full swing and the alcohol was excitedly opened and everyone could feel themselves relaxing as it grew closer to dinnertime—which you happily (and tipsily) served to everyone around half past seven. 

     once everyone had eaten and had time to let their food settle, people began saying their goodbyes as the night grew later and later. all except shouto, that was, who was actively still drinking, sitting on your couch with a bottle of sake in his left hand as he watches everyone else clears out. 

     “fuck’s he doin’? just sittin’ there,” bakugou grumbles, coming up to stand next to you after seeing eijirou and denki to the door (uptight as he could be, even your husband was capable of relaxing after a drink or two…. or several). he wasn’t… erm, upset with shouto’s prolonged visit, per se, but he was definitely tired and wanted some alone time with his spouse for fuck’s sake. 

     “be nice, ‘tsuki,” you scold him lightly, moving to walk towards shouto, who had a sleepy look in his eyes, to stand in front of him. “hey, todo, y’okay?” you ask, waving a hand in front of his tired face.

     “mmh? ‘m fine.” his words slur together slightly as he refocuses his blurry gaze on you, and for a moment, the number 3 pro hero thinks you look like an angel sent from heaven to take care of him—until katsuki ruins the moment by walking over and saying;

     “great, then you can obviously get yourself home!”

     “katsuki!” you hiss, looking over to where he stood next to you. “you can stay the night if you need to, shouto,” you tell him softly, squatting down in front of him and placing a hand on each knee to look up at him from almost between his legs — something your husband absolutely did not appreciate. 

     “hey—” he tries to interject, but the young todoroki had already accepted your kind offer, knowing better than to walk or drive home in his current state. 

     “relax, kats, he can sleep on the couch if you don’t want him in a guest bedroom—even though that’s what they’re for,” you suggest/remind him. 

     “i guess,” he huffs, crossing his arms as you finally stand back up.

     shouto, meanwhile, moves to stand up from where he sat, swaying a bit before you put both hands on his broad shoulders and force him to sit back down.

     “nuh-uh, you sit right there, sir,” you say playfully. “is there something you need?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as katsuki grits his teeth while you tend to that drunk icyhot cunt. (as if he himself wasn’t also wasted).

     shouto pauses to think for a moment, thinking about his words carefully before opening his mouth. 

     “do you have any—” he lags and forgets the word he’s looking for mid-sentence. “uhm. ….unfrozen ice?” he asks, tilting his head partially to the side like a confused creature might. 

     “oh my god,” bakugou groans at his request as you break out into a fit of giggles. “you fucking mean water?” he asks his fellow pro-hero. god. what a sorry fuckin’ sight he was — can’t-stand-up-drunk on katsuki’s couch, while he forgot a word as basic as water. jesus christ, he cannot believe you offered to let this fool stay here without even asking him if it was okay first. whatever. he’d just have to fuck you so good that that walking peppermint couldn’t sleep at all. yeah, he could totally do that.

     “water, yes,” shouto follows up as you have to wipe the tears from your eyes at his drunken words. standing up straight, having doubled over from laughter, you nod and tell him yeah, we have unfrozen ice, and that you’ll get him some.

     after you had left the room, though, katsuki huffs loudly and stares down at shouto, who was still seated on the plush sofa. 

     “listen, todoroki,” he spits out, one hand splaying out in an aggressive manner as his quirk popped off quietly. despite the alcohol in his system, katsuki was still just as…. well, just as aggressive and competitive as always despite the way he had grown more outwardly affectionate (towards you specifically) over the course of the evening.

     “i dunno, or care, what you’re trying but just know—” an embarrassing hic cuts him off and his face flushes from more than just the alcohol. suddenly, his big tough guy act drops as his blush reaches the tips of his ears and you come back into the room with two cups of water, handing one off to shouto and the other to your husband.

     both men silently and gratefully take the glasses from you, gulping it down before they even realized just how thirsty they were until the cups were empty and they were looking at you, causing you to suddenly feel small under their intense gazes.

     “‘ll go—get s’more,” you slur, taking the now empty glasses back from the two men, and also this moment alone to calm your racing heart, and maybe pour yourself another shot. or two. or three. calm down, you’re only alone with the two finest men in the world — one of which you’re married to!! you think to yourself as you begin pouring them another glass from the nice water pitcher you had specifically set out for tonight. 

     taking the bottle of vodka from its spot on the counter, you look at how much is left and simply decide on drinking straight from the bottle and polishing it off. little did you know, you’d need that liquid courage for later on tonight. before bringing the two well-built men their water, you dispose of the vodka bottle, putting it in the recycling and heading back into the living room.

     after a comment from katsuki about how it was getting late, you escort shouto upstairs to a guest bedroom and show him where the bathroom is before excusing yourself to your shared bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind you, just for katsuki to barge in seconds later as you move to the master bathroom to start brushing your teeth.

     he joins you shortly after, having discarded his nicer dress shirt and pants in the bedroom’s laundry basket, leaving him far more comfortable in his unfairly flattering black boxer briefs.

     “jesus—kats, how are you so fuckin’ fine?” you ask after spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste, and he only chuckles and lets a small smile stretch across his lips.

     “dunno—could ask you the same thing, though,” he quips back, grabbing his own toothbrush from the little cup it sat in, running it under the water before putting the toothpaste on it and bringing it up to his already white teeth and scrubbing the night’s grime away.

     you giggle at his words, running your toothbrush under the water and giving your teeth a final once over with the brush and scrape your tongue, rinsing it one final time, and then tapping it against the sink’s edge to get some of the excess water out. 

     finally, you made your way to the bed, sitting on the edge of it as you watch your husband finish up in the bathroom before he stalks over to you, an almost predatory look in his eye as he comes to tower over you and you can feel a chill run down your spine as he sizes you up from your spot on the king sized bed. 

     “katsuki..? what’re you—”

     your question is almost immediately cut off as his slightly chapped lips come crashing down against yours as he knocks you back onto the bed and stands between your now spread legs—which quickly wrap around his narrow waist as his large and calloused hands find purchase on your hips. 

     “mmmfgh,” your hum turns into a moan as you focus on the feeling of your husband’s lips against yours, melting into him as he leans over you, teeth clacking slightly as he tilts his head for a better angle to kiss you at.

     “was getting tired of that icyhot bastard,” he grumbles, eyebrows furrowing together as the grip on your hips tighten possessively at the mention of shouto, as if your husband wasn’t the one to bring him up? 

     his words make you chuckle nonetheless as a smile spreads over your pretty, soon to be kiss-swollen, lips as you lean back on your palms, the bed sinking beneath your weight.

     “‘m sorry, tsuki,” you mumble softly before you feel his tongue run over your lower lip, silently begging for entrance to your hot mouth — to which you eagerly granted access to, moaning quietly when he licks into your mouth. he tastes like tequila and spicy udon, and it’s utterly intoxicating (or maybe that was the last of the vodka you’d downed earlier taking effect). “didn’ mean t’invite him withou’ askin’ you,” you slur out, rolling your hips up against his growing erection.

     “‘s okay, i guess,” he pants, pulling away only slightly in order to look you in the eyes, letting you know that he really didn’t mind. sure, shouto was quiet and didn’t actually interfere with what he had planned tonight (or so he thought), so he was only mildly annoyed instead of genuinely bothered. besides….. he had left the door partially open after barging into the bedroom on purpose… just in case that walking candy cane happened to overhear and wanted a peak at the show he wouldn’t be allowed to join.

     and just like that, your husband’s lips come crashing down against yours yet again, tongue easily seeking out your own and swirling around yours before sucking it into his mouth, humming pleasantly around the wet muscle (he was in a shockingly good mood, actually…. guess he enjoyed the party more than he let on—that and the alcohol was a large factor, too) before pulling off of it with a nasty, wet pop! noise. 

     “mmh, glad you’re not mad,” you mutter, eyes fluttering open to take a peek at him. and what you saw was downright angelic — a harsh contrast from his usual demeanor and appearance.

     “why would i be?” he asks, and you straight up laugh, ruining the moment entirely. “hey–!”

     “sorry, ‘m sorry—it’s just—” you wipe a tear from your eye. “you’re usually not so— what’s the word? calm? something like that,” you try explaining to him, a smile gracing your features.

     “i’m calm! i’m always calm!” he spits out, raising his voice, sending you into another round of laughter. 

     “god—i love ya s’much, kats,” you tell him after composing yourself, shifting on the bed so you were leaning against the plush pillows lining the headboard and bakugou eagerly follows after you, moving between your legs, which easily wrapped back around his hips, pulling him closer against you, and he shifted so that he was propping himself up on a forearm, his other hand coming to press against the small of your back, arching it for you as his lips found their way to your neck, where he began to nip at the sensitive skin there.

      “you’re pretty great too, i s'pose,” he grins against your flesh before beginning to suck at the junction of your neck and shoulder, determined to leave a mark dark enough to last a week, at least. 

     “yeah? ‘s good t’hear,” you giggle breathily as he assaults your neck, and one hand comes to cradle the back of his head, fingers threading through his mysteriously spiky hair (you’ve never once seen him use hair gel—hell, you’ve even searched his entire side of the bathroom because you didn’t believe him when he told you it’s just like that).

     it doesn’t take long for bakugou to get fed up with the clothes separating your bare skin from his, desperate to physically feel you against him, and in record time, he has the skirt of your dress bunched up around your hips, you’re sitting up slightly, and he’s tugging the fabric the rest of the way off, carelessly throwing it onto the floor.

     shouto, meanwhile, lay awake staring at the ceiling in your comfortable guest’s bed, drunkenly reminiscing back to high school, and the crush he didn’t know was a crush he had on you. had he known, he probably would have asked you out sometime in your senior year—instead, he misinterpreted his affections as an intimate friendship with admiration for you and your quirk. what always baffled him, though, is why you would pick katsuki bakugou to love out of all people (not like you really had a choice in the matter…… one day you woke up and realized your supposed hatred for him was, in fact, a bone-deep love that consumed you whole).

     with an achy sigh, todoroki sits up and gets up to use the bathroom. after washing his hands and splashing his face with some cool water to sober up at least a little, his ears perk up on the way back to his temporary room. on his way back, however, he happened to catch the faintest echo of a feminine moan, and before he can stop himself, he’s silently stalking down the hall to the master bedroom, where he found the door to be cracked open wide enough for him to get a surprising view of dynamight with his head between your legs and your underwear and dress strewn across the otherwise neat floor.

     immediately, his dick twitches to life in his nice dress pants and he nearly groans at the way you moan katsuki’s name so sweetly. god…. that should be me, he thinks to himself enviously as your husband focuses solely on eating you out.

     “aa-ahh! mmm, katsuki!” you cry out, both hands coming down in attempt to push his face away from your messy cunt, but to no avail. katsuki offered you no respite as his hot tongue explored your puffy folds as he began to suck on your clit. “katsu—fuck!”

     you’re ignorant to the feeling of another pair of eyes on you, too caught up in the feeling of being eaten out, but katsuki isn’t — he feels shouto’s burning gaze, and he can’t help but smirk to himself. so he was right: icyhot couldn’t resist a good show, and boy, was katsuki about to perform.

     “hmm?” he hums, one hand resting on your thigh while he uses the forearm of his other arm to keep you from bucking your hips up. he doesn’t exactly care about what it is you’re whining about; he knows you’re fine and he intends to make you cum at least thrice tonight to show off to shouto, who was apparently a giant closeted pervert.

     and it was true. shouto was nasty without even realizing it — and that’s not to say he slept around, god no (he was 24 and still a virgin….), he just had fantasies. many of which involved you, and shamefully, on occasion, you and katsuki. it made his cheeks burn to even think about, but he would be a liar if he said he’d never gotten off to the idea of a threesome with you and your husband. jesus, and now, here the opportunity was laid right there in front of him, and what was he doing? slowly starting to palm at his erection and bite his bottom lip as he watches the scene in front of him unfold.

     “i— shit–!” you squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back as you tug at his hair. “god, just—! slow down!” you whine, and katsuki’s eye twitches. 

     like in every other aspect in his life, bakugou tended to be rough and aggressive in the bedroom; put simply, you turned him into a feral man—brought out the inner animal in him. he was, as surprising as it may seem to some, a generous lover, however, due to his have to be the best at everything mentality, so, by extension, this included his ability to give and inflict pleasure (mixed with a healthy amount of pain, because, well.. it’s katsuki). 

     “nah.” blatantly ignoring your request, he pulls his head away from your drooling pussy, the lower half of his face covered in your slick, and blows a cold puff of air against your throbbing slit, causing you to whine out his name as he nips at the fatty skin of your inner thigh—dangerously close to your cunt—sucking and biting until a dark purple mark begins to form. a smirk stretches over his somewhat thin, although plump, lips knowing shouto would never get to litter your body in bruises and hickeys the same way he does. 

     “mmh—jesus, kats–!” it’s all you can do to whimper as he resumes the disgustingly messy way he was tongue fucking your pussy.

     shouto almost groans as he gets harder and harder, almost painfully so, as he watches katsuki fervently eat you out, and suddenly, he wishes it was him between your legs with bakugou watching instead. 

     as silently as he possibly can, todoroki begins to unbuckle his belt in order to slip a hand past the waistband of both his pants to feel himself through the fabric of his sickeningly tight boxers. he’s careful to bite back what would be any whimpers or quiet moans, knowing it’s so shotover for him if he gets caught.

     “fuck,” he mutters under his breath, swallowing thickly as he watches as you’re eaten out until you’re cumming with a loud cry of your husband’s name (shouto pretended it was his name you were calling out), and he goes to turn around to hide in the bedroom you’d so kindly allowed him to stay in to jerk off until he hears—

     “y’gonna come out, icyhot, or are ya just gonna stand there like a loser cuck all night?” katsuki lifts his head from between your legs to look at the half-and-half bastard peeping on him and his spouse…… what a fucking freak.

     “sh–shouto!?” you squeak, not having noticed his presence until the man you’d married had pointed him out. “wh–what’re you—!” you can’t even think of what to say before he’s trying to apologize and katsuki’s cussing him out—telling him to get his ass in here before he really makes him sorry. 

     just how drunk was your husband? or shouto for that matter? truthfully, you were probably the most sober person in the room.

     slowly, silently, and shamefully, shouto makes his way into your bedroom, where he comes to stand at the foot of the bed with a horribly noticeable tent in his pants. he wants to look down at the floor, but he’s physically incapable of taking his eyes off your naked, sweaty form—and katsuki’s toned back, for that matter. he gulps anxiously as he waits for the perpetually angry blond to inevitably break the ice. 

     much to his surprise, however, it was you to speak up first, admitting that you didn’t mind shouto’s presence—followed by katsuki sarcastically asking if you wanted him to join, to which your body stiffened and cheeks flushed at the thought. 

     “what? don’t tell me you like the idea of that half n’ half idiot joinin’ the fun?” a wicked grin stretches over his slick lips as he quirks a brow up at you before shrugging and saying; “fine, just remember: you asked for this.”

     “you heard ‘em, todoroki, get the hell over here,” he spits out, and shouto complies immediately—he could not believe what was about to happen and neither could (nor katsuki for that matter).

     as he closes the gap between you three, he fumbles with the buttons of his dress shirt before ultimately just ripping it open and shrugging it onto the floor. repeating the same action with his pants, he struggles slightly with the zipper before tugging it down and quickly stepping out of them, nearly tripping in the process—to which katsuki has to stifle a laugh.

     shouto feels dizzy and light-headed from how hard he is, and he bites his thick bottom lip as he nervously crawls onto the oversized bed, sitting adjacent to you as he awaits further instructions from the ever-demanding bakugou. 

     “katsu—”

     “shut up,” he says gruffly, one large hand coming up to cover your mouth—he was about to dictate everything that was about to go down. “you—todoroki—listen real fuckin’ closely, because i’m not repeating myself. you can look, but ‘m still deciding if you’re allowed to touch yet—” katsuki directs his attention from him to you and asks; “whaddya think, princess? would y’like that? both of us touchin’ you?” and it’s all you can do to nod, cheeks physically heating up in shame and embarrassment. 

     “i guess i’ll allow it, then,” he says, moving his hand away from your face so he can manhandle you into a sitting up position, making you straddle his lap and telling shouto to move behind you.

     you feel your heartbeat quicken significantly now that you’re naked and sandwiched between two of the hottest men you’ve ever been blessed with the chance to encounter. dear god. take a breath, you’ve got this. …..and that’s why your pussy’s all but drooling right now? you can’t help but roll your bare cunt over your husband’s erection, letting out a delicious little moan in the process, and shouto’s equally large hands hesitantly find purchase on your hips, and you look back over your shoulder as he leans in attempt to kiss you—just to be blocked by katsuki’s hand against his pouty lips.

     “i didn’t fuckin’ say you could kiss them,” he hisses. shouto, however, mentally shrugs this off, grabs the angry blond’s wrist to move his hand, and leans in over your shoulder, pressing his chest firmly against your back, in order to—kiss your husband instead????!

     holy shit—this is so much hotter than it should be, jesus christ. you’re genuinely ashamed of the way shouto moving to kiss katsuki rather than you turns you on, and you even let a little oh my god slip in awe and horny amazement. 

     “what the actual fuck, icyhot!?” your husband explodes, trying to shove shouto away from him, but causing you to fall back fully into his lap, where you can feel his boner pressing up against your ass.

     “n–no,” you speak up. “d–do it again.” you try your best not to mutter the request, looking between the man who had crushed on you all through high school and the one you’d ended up marrying. 

     “huh!? have you both lost your fucking minds?!” 

     “please..? do it for me, ‘tsuki?” you beg as sweetly as you can, a pout tugging at your lips as you did your best kicked puppy eyes. as tough as bakugou acted, deep down, he did, in fact, have a soft spot for you, and would do nearly anything for you—and this, unfortunately, was about to be one of the things he was willing to do. maybe he had the whiskey to thank for his… bravery, but for some reason, the idea of making out with that peppermint bastard really didn’t seem so bad. ….jesus, what is he thinking?

     “tch, fine,” he clicks his tongue before he’s suddenly snatching you out of shouto’s lap and bringing you back onto his, where he shifts so his back’s against the headboard and says; “‘f y’can ride me, then sure, ‘ll do whatever you want, sweetheart.”

     nodding eagerly, you tug the waistband of his boxers down just enough to free his aching cock, where it hits his lower tummy and you impatiently use one hand to line up the angry red tip with your slick entrance before sinking down to the base with ease. you both moan at the feeling and katsuki beckons shouto over after pressing a quick kiss to your shiny lips to remind himself why he was doing this.

     shouto’s dick aches enviously, desperately wishing he could feel your heat, but quickly gets over it as his chest presses against your back once again and his lips land against katsuki’s. actually, todoroki was not an experienced kisser—at all, really; he was only copying what he had seen in movies, so he’s a little surprised when the blond’s tongue runs over the seam of his lips and his heterochromatic eyes fly open at the feeling. 

     katsuki, however, reaches around you to grab shouto’s cheeks, forcing him to part his pretty lips, and he easily slips his tongue past his kiss-swollen lips. meanwhile, shouto’s strong arms wrap around your waist while he allows your husband to explore the inside of his mouth, his face heating up despite the way a chill runs down his spine. 

     “mmh,” he hums quietly, freezing his tongue in order to give your husband a little surprise—which works very well, seeing as how katsuki pulls away with a heaving gasp.

     “what the fuck?” he pants, rolling his hips up into dripping cunt, and you let out a little moan, grinding down against him at the same time, allowing him to brush up against your g-spot while shouto moves to kiss katsuki again, large hands coming up to cup his flushed, tanned cheeks, trying to tilt his head for a better angle as he mimics the way the blond’s tongue had run over the seam of his lips, and is pleasantly surprised when he reluctantly parts his slightly thinner lips for the much calmer man. 

     jesus christ, you think to yourself, trying to bounce against your husband’s dick to the best of you ability, but groaning in frustration when his absurdly calloused hands come down against your hips to hold you in place.

     “mm—’tsuki,” you whine as he wholly focuses on kissing shouto (who was currently living out his wet dream). it’s all you can do to wiggle in place, trying to grind your clit against his neatly trimmed pubic hair, desperate for any kind of friction. meanwhile, shouto’s freezing hand comes up to grope your chest, causing you to let out a quiet yelp at the feeling of him tweaking roughly with your nipple.

     poor, poor inexperienced shouto had no gauge or concept of what exactly he was doing, relying on instinct and everything he’d seen in the little porn he had watched; he silently prays he’s acting accordingly and soon his heated left hand is coming up to grab at your other tit.

     “sh–shouto!” you moan, almost causing katsuki to pause in his action as a growl leaves his throat—now this just simply would not do, no, no, no. !!!! fuck! his dick twitches inside you as he ruts his hips upwards while holding firmly onto your hips. “je–jesus! katsuki!” 

     that’s better, he thinks to himself, a smug, self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his plump lips as he tries not to overthink his kiss with todoroki. god. as fucking  embarrassing, humiliating, and shameful as it was, …..katsuki absolutley could not deny the fact that he was feeling so, so, so many things right now, things he never would have considered sober, let alone acted on, and now….. now, he was rock fucking hard as he feels the inside of shouto’s mouth, tracing his tongue along the grooves of his blindingly white teeth and inner cheeks before swirling it around his own heated muscle. 

     he wants to tell shouto he’s not half bad at this when he begins to suck on his tongue—taking him violently by surprise—but can’t bring himself to dole out the praise, not wanting him to get an ego about how well he was managing to keep up. 

     you can feel your stomach doing flips and your pussy creaming around your husband’s cock as the two men you’re sandwiched between really go at it, and suddenly your mouth feels dry as you let out a low, drawn out whine.

     “fuck,” is all you’re able to say as you dig your nails into katsuki’s back while arching your own, with shouto still pinching and tweaking with your poor, erect nipples—his hands were almost at extreme temperatures, and you choke out something about how good it feels, offering the number three hero the praise he needed—something bakugou wasn’t a huge fan of. 

     half n’ half wants to use his quirk? that’s fine—he can, too!

     the next thing you know, your hips feel scorchingly hot and you’re hearing the sound of a very small-scale explosion, and you yelp out your husband’s name, pussy fluttering around his achy length, and you have to bite your lower lip when you feel tears welling up in your eyes from all the stimulation. had you known inviting a drunk shouto to stay the night would lead to this, you would have done it years ago! …because honestly, you were crushing hard on him your freshman year of highschool together—but unfortunately for you, that’s when he had first begun to actually explore his emotions for the first time in his life, leading you to believe you never stood a chance with him.

     katsuki, however, while his primary emotion was anger, you could tell something was up with him and his feelings towards you when he stopped yelling at you as much compared to the others. don’t get one wrong, he definitely still shouted at you, because that’s just who he was, but….. it was enough for you and the girls of 1-A to pick up on—something they teased you relentlessly about behind closed doors because nobody ever dared to mention anything in front of bakugou in fear of ruining your chances together (as you see, mina and a few others were die hard shippers while the rest enabled this behavior). 

      “christ’s sake, katsuki,” you hiss as his quirk repeatedly pops off against your reddening skin and you have to physically bite your tongue to keep yourself grounded enough to scold him. …try to, anyway. “thi— this isn’t a—ahh! fuck!—a compe–titon! jesus!” you moan.

     a competition. 

     that word ring in katsuki’s ears as he pulls away from his kiss with shouto, admittedly a little breathlessly, a smirk stretching over his glossy lips.

     “now that’s an idea,” he muses out loud, causing shouto to tilt his head and your eyes to widen. goddammit, you just had to go and open your bigass mouth, didn’t you?

     “n–no; whatever you— you’re planning, forget about it,” you say as firmly as you can despite the way your pussy flutters around him.

     bakugou clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes at the way you whine out such a ridiculous request. 

     “mmh, nah,” he grins, hands holding you firmly in place against him, preventing you from even rolling your hips—something you’re quick to bitch about. 

     “god–dammit!” sometimes you wish your husband wasn’t so goddamn strong—it made it that much easier for him to manhandle you into any position he wanted. 

     “y’up for a little challenge, icyhot?” katsuki ignores you entirely, focusing his intense gaze onto the slightly younger man.

     “...sure,” he nods, albeit a little reluctantly, unsure of what exactly he was agreeing to. he hopes he’ll get a chance to steal a kiss from you, but for now, he figures it best to go along with whatever bakugou was about to suggest. 

     “whoever can make princess here cum the most in five minutes each can fuck their cunt,” he begins, just for shouto to interrupt him. 

     “and what of the loser?”

    “i was getting there—impatient sonuva bitch….” he mutters the last part under his breath like he wasn’t also an impatient sonuva bitch. “anyway, the loser—in this case, i’m sure it’ll be you, y’fuckin’ virgin cuck—can…. fuck right off and watch,” he finishes, cock twitching deep inside you at his own words. he was absolutely positive he’d win the little proposition he’d struck up, which is why the punishment for the loser was so harsh. when in all reality, if he was feeling kind enough, he’d let you suck shouto off as a consolation prize. ….maybe.

     “sounds good to me,” todoroki agrees to bakugou’s conditions, feeling his own dick twitch as he steels his nerves—he was so fucked. in this moment, shouto’s never been more grateful for being a fast learner, as that was his only chance at possibly succeeding in such a task. he wasn’t particularly familiar with the afab body, and so he has to actively recall all the porn he had seen—mind you, he was incredibly picky about what exactly he’s watching—when suddenly an idea strikes him and he’s asking katsuki to move his hands so he can pull you off his cock and reposition you so your back was against the bed.

     you and your husband are both confused until shouto’s pushing your thighs apart and nestling between them, icy lips kissing down your body until he reaches the mound of your dripping cunt, and you can’t help but get shy—not because you weren’t used to being eaten out, no (katsuki often ate you out until you couldn’t see straight), it was because you just simply were not expecting that from the inexperienced shouto todoroki! but it’s okay, just take a deep breath and—

     “aa–aah! fuck! shouto!” you cry out, caught off guard by the way his full lips wrap around your erect clit and begin suckling on it, his freezing tongue moving to swirl around it as he does. he doesn’t exactly know what he’s doing and is more or less figuring it out as he goes based on your reactions and moans. 

     katsuki is just as taken aback as you were, but for totally different reasons; this was probably one of the last things he had expected todoroki to do, but, but, but…!!! fuck! he couldn’t even be mad about it either because he was the one who had decided to turn it into a competition. shit. okay, whatever, he’d just work around this.

     “nngh–!” one of your hands comes to run through shouto’s split hair, tugging the soft locks gently. “wh–where the fuck did you—aah! hhngh!—learn h–how to do this?” you ask breathlessly, looking down at the man between your legs, and you feel a chill run down your spine and goosebumps erupt over your skin when you realize he’s looking right back at you—staring at you intently, doing his best to gauge all your little reactions, both verbal and physical.

     katsuki can’t help but agree with your question, because seriously, where the fuck had he learned this shit!? 

     all he’s able to do, though, is watch with awe as shouto focuses wholly on his attempt to eat you out — which he was seemingly doing a good job at — as one large and calloused hand subconsciously comes down to jerk himself off slowly, thumb swiping over his bright red, leaky tip, and he hisses out a quiet fuck while your back arches off the bed.

     shouto, however, doesn’t answer, in favor of bringing a heated finger down to your slick entrance — gently prodding at it before slipping it in with ease. 

     “mmmffgh,” you whine as he curls it up slowly, all while sucking on your throbbing clit, and it doesn’t take long for a knot to build up in your lower stomach. “nngh– sh–shouto!” 

     he simply ignores you as he begins to slip a second finger in—gradually heating them up as he did—and you moan pathetically as your husband watches on in awe, his mouth horribly dry and dick achingly hard, and for a moment, he’s scared he might cum to the sight of another man eating his spouse out—so he intentionally slows his pace to something almost painfully slow to make sure he doesn’t prematurely ejaculate, wanti—no, Needing to cum inside you. 

     starting to scissor you apart now, you clench around shouto’s burning fingers desperately, whining as his freezing right hand comes up to pinch one of your already stiff nipples. 

     “nngh–!” it’s not long before you’re cumming with a loud cry of shouto’s name while pulling at his soft hair, back arching deeply off the mattress as katsuki lets out a growl at the sight, already seething with envy….. whatever; he takes in a deep breath to calm himself down and slowly starts to increase the pace at which he’s jerking himself off, groaning softly as he does. 

     todoroki doesn’t relent in his pace, however, messily eating you out throughout the duration of your orgasm, resulting in you cumming a second time not long after.

     “nnngh—’s too much, shouto—” you choke out, pulling at his hair while trying to push him away at the same time. “f–fuck!” it had maybe been two minutes, meaning you had to endure for another three. but how exactly were you meant to do that? with the way he was all but making out with your cunt, you turn your attention to katsuki, pathetically mewling for help—just for him to shut you down! reminding you that you agreed to this and that he knows you can take it.

     the most your husband had ever made you cum in one night was four times—a record he was gunning to beat tonight. 

     by the time shouto’s time was up, he had managed to make you cum three times, on his way to working you up to a fourth, before katsuki’s letting go of his dick and burying his thick fingers in todoroki’s hair, yanking him away from your pulsing heat. 

     “hey—” shouto pants breathlessly, lower face covered in your slick.

     “time’s up, icyhot,” your husband rasps out before asking you how many times you’d cum.

     “th– three, but— i need a break before we keep goin’,” you tell him, panting heavily with flushed cheeks and teary eyes. 

     katsuki simply nods in acknowledgement, untangling his fingers from shouto’s hair as all three of you take this moment to catch your breath. then, after a brief three or so minutes of rest, bakugou’s crawling on top of you as shouto watches on this time, cock leaky and painfully hard as he palms himself through his horribly tight boxers while katsuki kisses you.

     “love ya, kats,” you’re able to pant out, and shouto feels his heart break a little; he wishes he could be on the receiving end of those words some day... but for now, he shifts so he’s kneeling on the bed, legs tucked neatly under him with his thighs spread wide enough for his heated left hand to sneak past the waistband of his boxers in order to grope himself.

     bakugou smiles against your lips at your words rather than returning them, and his tongue slides out to poke its way into your already open mouth, easily licking over the insides of your cheeks and grooves of your teeth. 

     as he watches the two of you makeout, todoroki begins to reflect on his kiss with katsuki earlier, and he finds himself yearning to hear those three little words from him, too, or to be able to kiss you as well….. maybe when this is all said and done… maybe he can work up the courage to ask to join your relationship..? or maybe he’d leave early in the morning full of shame…. he isn’t quite sure yet.

     “mmngh—” you moan softly as one of katsuki’s large and calloused hands trails down your side, moving to cup your puffy cunt, before two thick fingers easily insert themselves into you without much of a warning—fortunately, you were still soaked from your slick and shouto’s spit from where he’d eaten you out so good, so your husband didn’t meet any resistance when scissoring you apart. “k–katsu–!”

     “yeah?” he pants as his cock drools uncomfortably. it’s okay. he’d just have to make you cum four times in five minutes, and—the idea that shouto might beat him at a challenge he proposed due to your fatigue from allowing that icyhot cunt to go first suddenly flashes in his mind, and he’s hardened over with a certain resolve he’d allowed to slip in his overwhelmingly horny state of mind.

     “i— ah! hnnngh— ‘m still se–sensitive,” you whine out, arching your back off the bed at the stimulation, and it’s all you can do to pull at his hair when you feel the calloused pad of his thumb press against your swollen, oversensitive clit. as the fingers almost knuckle-deep inside you press into your g-spot, you go crosseyed from the combined feeling of being finger-fucked and having your tongue sucked on (when’d he start doing that!?).

     katsuki, however, ignores your weak mewls in favor of kissing you so hard your teeth clack together briefly before he’s tilting his head for a better angle and nipping softly at your tongue, causing you to squeak in surprise. 

     rolling your hips up and grinding down against his hand, desperate for more fiction, shouto watches on in awe and horny amazement, taking notes on how your body reacted to katsuki, hoping he could imitate his actions, or develop them into his own, next time he got the chance. 

     soon, though, katsuki’s five minutes come to an end, with you only having cum twice by his doing—something that makes his eye twitch as he realizes that meant icyhot would get to fuck your cunt. ….goddammit! he’d gotten too caught up in the feeling of your lips against his to focus fully on fingering you! sure, he was just about to bring you to your third orgasm–but! oh, this so wasn’t fair! if only he’d gone first! then you wouldn’t have been so worn out!

     shit. with a sigh, he pulls away from your body as his eye begins twitching and he looks over to shouto—who currently had his hand wrapped around his cock—and lets out a huff.

     “there’s no way i’m letting him fuck you,” he grunts out, crossing his muscular arms.

     “kats, that’s not— ‘s’not fair,” you chide him, panting heavily and sitting up on your forearms. “you said— said the winner—” your cheeks flush as you remember the words he’d used and you shake your head to clear the thought from your mind. “...could fuck me—you wouldn’t wanna go back on your word, would you?” 

     shouto’s heart rate increases as you stick up for him, and he feels the extra blood circulating throughout his body go straight to his throbbing dick as his eyes light up with hope—never in a million years would he think he’d get the chance to have sex with you!

     “mm, …fine,” katsuki agrees, salty he’d lost at his own competition, but willing to do whatever to make you happy, so… he almost retches a little at the thought and he feels his heart break in his chest ever so slightly, but… if staying true to his word and letting that half n’ half bastard fuck you would make you happy, then…. he guesses he can let it slide…

     with that, shouto’s shifting onto his knees a little more in order to slide his boxers down his well-toned thighs so his pretty cock can slap against his lower tummy and he’s quick to grab you by the hips, pulling you towards him before katsuki’s words cause him to pause.

     “not so fast, icyhot, if you’re gonna fuck ‘em, then they can at least suck me off while you do,” he growls, moving so that he’s behind you and then manhandling out of shouto’s grasp so that you were facing him. “get on all fours, sweetheart,” he instructs you, and you obey with a nod, presenting shouto with your ass and drooling cunt and he swallows thickly at the sight. 

     his hands plant themselves on your hips once more and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips—you were glad shouto would at least get a chance to enjoy himself, as you’re sure he probably doesn’t have many good stress relievers, if any at all… 

     with that in mind, you make sure to arch your back nicely for the man on his knees behind you as you take your husband’s dick in one hand while supporting your weight with the other and press a little kiss to the bright red tip before slowly taking it into your hot mouth.

     katsuki hisses out a groan at the feeling of you hollowing your cheeks as you gradually take him down to almost the base, your hand wrapped around what doesn’t currently fit in your mouth, and swallow thickly around him.

     “shit—” a hand is quick to bury itself in your hair to guide your pace as shouto’s jaw slackens in the slightest before he gets a grip and starts to align his swollen and leaky tip with your creamy pussy, moaning much louder than he was expecting to at the feeling of your warm, gummy walls wrapped around his virgin cock. suddenly, whatever metaphorical grip he did have immediately slips away from him as his physical grip tightens to an almost painful extent, and you’re sure he’ll leave bruises in the shapes of his fingertips—similar to the way your husband so often does.

     “aa–aah! fuck!” todoroki whines as he takes his time bottoming out—biting his tongue as he pushes into you almost agonizingly slow, causing you to moan around your husband’s dick, resulting in him pushing your head down further against him and your pussy to flutter around the poor, overwhelmed shouto.

     you nearly gag as his mushroom-headed tip hits the back of your throat, but are able to suppress your reflex to do so well enough to remove your hand from around him while you focus on breathing through your nose as you take him down to the base, until your face is flush against his pelvis, light blond pubes tickling your nostrils slightly. 

     you try to stay that way for as long as possible, swallowing around him continuously to fight your own gag reflex rather than out of consideration of his pleasure, but it’s only been a few seconds when you’re fighting against his strong palm to come up for air.

     after pulling off him with a disgustingly wet pop! and panting heavily, you make the suggestion that the two should kiss again — arguing that if your husband is just gonna offer your pussy to be fucked without asking you, then the least he could do was makeout with the man balls deep inside you.

     “what?” katsuki barks out, looking down at you, with your head between his thighs. 

     “please, ‘tsuki?” you ask nicely, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

     shouto wants to join in with your pleading—to ask katsuki for a kiss, too, but he knows better, knows your husband will begrudgingly cave to your demands and that he’ll ultimately receive another kiss.

     “tsk… fine—c’mere, icyhot,” he grunts, one hand pushing your head back down onto his dick as the other reaches for shouto. both men lean over you in order to lock lips, and the younger one can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his lips as he gets what he wants. 

     todoroki’s hips press flush against your ass as he leans over your sweaty, overstimulated body to makeout with your husband. god, you weren’t, like, …a fujoshi or anything, but…. something about the idea of katsuki and shouto going at it in particular had your stomach in knots and cunt clamping down snugly around shouto’s girth. 

     “jesus—” the half and half man pants at the feeling of your pussy, and he honestly doesn’t know how he’s managed to go this long without it. ….or if he’ll be able to live without yours specifically from here on out…… okay, it’s decided. he’d ask to join your relationship, somehow, when this was all said and done, but for now he isn’t sure whether to focus on his kiss with katsuki or the feeling of his dick throbbing almost painfully inside you. 

     ultimately, his attention is drawn to the way bakugou nips harshly at his lower lip—enough to draw a small amount of blood—and a moan gets caught in shouto’s throat, coming out as something more akin to a whimper instead; something that certainly makes katsuki’s ears perk up. had todoroki just fuckin’ whimpered from something he had done? for a reason other than getting pussy for the first time in his stupid virgin life? needless to say, it quickly goes to bakugou’s ego as he begins sucking on shouto’s lower lip, tongue swiping over it quickly at first, and then a second time that was considerably slower and more teasing in nature.

     poor shouto can feel himself going cross-eyed as he ruts into you sloppily, heavy balls smacking against your clit, and he knows he won’t last long like this at all. he’s kinda bummed he can’t …make love to you the way he would prefer, but right now, he doesn’t find himself picky at all—just grateful to be a part of this entire thing, even if he may not get the chance again in the future. that’s why it was critical for him to be present in the moment, literally drooling from how good he feels, as he uses his quirk on his tongue while swirling it around katsuki’s, the now freezing muscle licking over the insides of his cheeks and grooves of his teeth, sending a chill down your husband’s spine. 

    the saliva being exchanged between the two begins to dribble out from the corners of their mouths and drip down their chins and onto your arched back. holy shit. you nearly choke on katsuki’s dick at the feeling of their spit rolling down your spine and you moan in both disgust and twisted pleasure. 

    “nnmgh,” you moan, tongue pressed flat against the underside of his dick as shouto drills into you. now it’s you who finds themselves drooling profusely, your spit running down katsuki’s cock, soaking his balls. 

     the blond can feel himself throbbing down your throat and he groans from the combined stimulation of you blowing him and shouto’s icy tongue—he’s close and he knows it. …meaning that half and half whore was definitely about to cum, with the way your pussy is surely milking him for all he’s worth. 

     “shouto,” he grunts out, pulling away just enough to tell him that if he’s gonna cum, then he has to pull out—that katsuki was the only one allowed to cum inside you. 

     todoroki was more taken aback by the usage of his first name from bakugou of all people, and it’s all he can do to nod and mumble a quiet yeah. 

     it’s not much longer before both mean reach their climax around the same time—with shouto pulling out to jerk himself off for a few more seconds and he’s cumming all over your back with a loud cry as your husband cums in your mouth, thick cum spilling down your throat, past your tongue, not even giving you a chance to taste him.

     after both men catch their breath, katsuki slowly pulls you off of him as he gazes down at you with a particularly soft look in his eye—or maybe it’s satisfaction, you’re too fucked out to really tell. 

     “y’okay, princess?” your husband rasps out, grinning to himself at your teary eyes, one hand cupping your cheek, and you blindly lean into his warm touch.

     “mmhm,” is all you can hum in response, borderline brain dead from how many times you’d cum tonight—clit still throbbing from the earlier stimulation. 

     “good….” he directs his attention to shouto, but doesn’t ask him anything, instead looking him up and down, eyes lingering on his dick for a moment longer than he’d like to admit. he quickly redirects his gaze to shouto’s heterochromatic one, and the softest, barely there smile tugs at the corners of his lips. it was so small and brief, one might think they were hallucinating had they seen it, but todoroki catches sight of it, and he wants to say something, but finds himself speechless; so instead, he leans in to kiss your husband again, and, very much to his surprise, he doesn’t immediately recoil. given, he doesn’t lean in to meet him either, but he does kiss him back as you shift to the side, panting heavily while you watch the two muscular and domineering men go at it for the nth time tonight, and you can hardly believe your eyes.

     one hand slips down in between your legs as they kiss, rubbing gently at your sensitive bundle of nerves while shouto takes the initiative this time, running his now heated tongue over the seam of katsuki’s lips before licking into his mouth, but moans quietly when the usually angry, but now somewhat calm, blond begins sucking on the hot muscle, one hand coming up to almost cradle the back of shouto’s head as he buries in fingers in his two-toned hair, pulling at it roughly.

     “y’know icyhot, you’re really not that bad at this,” he tells him, which is the closest to doling out praise he’ll ever get. 

     shouto, however, takes this to heart as a soft smile pulls at his lips and suddenly he finds himself cupping katsuki’s face and knocking him onto the bed, clumsily clamoring on top of him, and your jaw genuinely drops at the scene in front of you. holy shit.

     “yeah?” shouto breathes from on top of katsuki, who was just as shocked as you were, if not moreso. what the fuck? how the fuck? what was he meant to do? he looks over to you for an idea of where to go with this, and his eyes widen when he sees you touching yourself to the sight of them. …alright, he supposes he can get behind this.

     looking back over to shouto, he replies: “sure, ..but i’m better,” and easily manages to flip the pair so that he was on top instead.

     “nngh–” you moan as softly, your free hand coming to grope one of your tits, pinching and tweaking with your already erect nipples. you don’t know if you can handle another orgasm, but the sight of the pair in front of each other is simply too hot to not jerk to.

     shouto, meanwhile, wraps his arms around katsuki’s neck as he pulls him in for a disgustingly sloppy and heated kiss, lips parting by themselves as he cranes his neck upwards. similarly, he moans as well, tongue already seeking out katsuki’s while you fondle yourself and slowly work yourself up to one final orgasm.

     nipping at his lower lip the same way he’d done to shouto earlier, katsuki retaliates by pulling away from the kiss to bite at his neck — even going as far as to suck against a few particular spots, leaving hickeys to bloom in the place of his mouth. for a moment, the idea of jerking shouto off crosses his mind, but that would be going too far for bakugou. 

     you, however, encourage this behavior, telling them to put on a show for you as you try not to cringe at the feeling of shouto’s cum drying on your bare back.

     so, it’s shouto who finds himself reaching for katsuki’s dick without a second thought, and he heats up his hand a bit to tease the poor blond (there is nothing poor about that man…), causing him to hiss in a mix of surprise and pleasure. 

     “shit—you’d think you would ask someone before just grabbing their dick,” he grunts out, making shouto chuckle a bit at his words.

     “sorry,” he says simply, thumb running over the leaky slit of his mushroom-headed tip, and he really, really wishes he could suck him off…… christ. maybe… maybe he should ask? you were the one who told them to put on a show after all..!

     shouto ultimately decides against it, though, too embarrassed to do so, and instead settles for jerking katsuki off slowly and with intent. 

     “nngh–” bakugou nearly whimpers—not that he’d ever actually do something like that, obviously—and he pulls at shouto’s hair, dick still sensitive from the way you’d sucked him off so good a few moments prior.

     it doesn’t take too long before katsuki finds himself cumming sooner than he’d like to admit, biting down on shouto’s neck in order to cope with the stimulation from his former classmate and fellow pro-hero. 

    you, too, find yourself cumming rather quickly, back arching off the mattress as shouto slows his pace to a halt, pulling his hand away and licking katsuki’s cum off it while making full eye contact with him—something that, shamefully, turned both you and the blond on. 

     you two would have to have a very serious discussion after this about how to move on from here, but for now, the two men turn their focus back to you, finally worn out for the night. katsuki easily shifts to lay next to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as shouto moves to get off the bed and go back to his guest room where he’d lay awake for the rest of the night—until he hears you call out for him softly, inviting him to sleep in your bed for the night; something katsuki doesn’t protest against, too tired to do so—and even if he did, his heart wouldn’t be in it. unfortunately, he very much enjoyed his time with the two of you tonight, and might seriously have to entertain your future request of letting shouto join your relationship.

     in the meantime, however, shouto abides and comes to lay on the other side of you, flushed and sweaty body pressing against your back as your chest smushes against katsuki’s significantly warmer one, and you’re quickly lulled to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat and shouto’s steady breathing.

return to KINKTOBER | K. BAKUGOU M.LIST | S. TODOROKI M.LIST

[formulamar]

she's a ferrari

charles leclerc x yn!ferrari

fc: Addison Rae

summary: as a child, the great-grand daughter of Enzo Ferrari used to spend her weekends hanging around the paddock. but once she went off to university her appearances became rare. what happens when she starts working for Ferrari? and... one of the drivers steals her heart.

October 2023

rumorhasitf1

liked by cl16fan and 3,049 others

rumorhasitf1: 🚨RUMOR CONFIRMED 🚨

After not being seen at a F1 Grand Prix in three years Y/N Ferrari stuns at the 2023 Austin Grand Prix.

643 comments

ferrarifan3: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GODD!!!!!!!!

ferrarifan0: LETS GOOOO

f1fan6: THE QUEEN IS BACKKKKKKK

-> mclarenfan8: wait i'm new fan. can someone explain who this is???

-> ferrarifan3: yn is Enzo Ferrari's great-grand daughter. she's attended races since she was maybe 5 or 6 years old and formed really close bonds w the drivers (mostly the Ferrari drivers ofc) its an ongoing joke that Fernando is her "f1 dad" because he was very protective of her and they have a close bond.

tifosi9: I NEVER DOUBTED U @/rumorhasitf1

liked by rumorhasitf1

f1fan05: amazing day for Fernando Alonso

ferrarifan7: she looks so grown up omggggg 🥲

twitter

🔒 ynferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, ynbff and 560 others

🔒ynferrari: austinnnnn had so much fun but not a good weekend for the fam :(

67 comments

fernandoalonso: Where was my invitation???

->🔒 ynferrari: this is literally your workplace…

ynbff: yn ur hotter than austin will ever be (I've never stepped foot in austin)

-> ynferrari: babe I appreaciate this but it is actually so hot here I am going to die

landonorris: @/ynbff was right

-> carlossainz55: Cabrón 😂

-> fernandoalonso: @/landonorris you want to have a chat?

-> ynferrari: NO NANDO HES JOKING

charles_leclerc: Hope you visit more often yn!

liked by ynferrari

-> danielricciardo: Ok... 🤔

🔒 ynferrari's story

twitter

ynferrari_updates

liked by cl16fan, 1644lvrrr and 409 others

ynferrari_updates: yn is in the paddock for the mexico gp!!!!! forza ferrari!!!

53 comments

ferrarifan3: ferrari princess is back!!!!

charlesfan83: SHE LOOKS SO GOOD

ln4s: omg i wanna see the rest of her outfit so bad

lordpercevalfan: THE PEARLS!!!!!

ferrarienthusiast38: it’s my dream to meet her 🥹

charlesleclerc16updates

charlesleclerc16updates: Charles responding to a question about Y/N during his post-race interview ❤

60 comments

cl16fan: HIS SMILE AWE

charlnor: "getting to know each other better" getting to know each other better. getting to know each other better. GETTING TO KNOW EACH OTHER BETTER! getting to know each other better?

-> f1fan6: bro is talking like they're going out or something

-> charlesfan2: this + the speculation on Twitter is making me start to believe they might be dating

lec4: can we talk about how is whole face lit up when he was asked about her because it makes me feel insane

-> ferrarifan7: I NOTICED THAT TOOOO

user: I don't get this. Y/N is just another nepo baby parading her status around the paddock who's last name happens to be Ferrari. How is she helping the team???

-> charlnor: yn is very passionate about motorsport and has been since she was little. a lot of the team members who have been working at Ferrari for years know her very well and have seen her grow up. she's also known for being a very kind person. and if you haven't noticed she does not "parade" anything around. she's a very private person most of what we know about her is info from fan interactions, team members or drivers. Ferrari is a family and its literally her LEGACY.

November 2023

🔒ynferrari's story

to be continued…

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩

a/n: i’ve had this idea in my head forever 🤭🤭 reblog if you want part 2!!! + pls comment if you want to be on the taglist :)

[gghostwriter]

Lips of a Gentleman

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Future take Summary: A spontaneous museum date alters your relationship with Spencer for the better Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.2k a/n: This is actually an anon request about going on a museum date with Spencer and interrupting his ramblings with a kiss and I couldn’t help myself so I connected this to ‘Wanted: A Gentleman.’ I also used my favorite painter here as a prop to yap so I hope you like it! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! masterlist

It was a Saturday afternoon when the BAU team closed a serial killer case in the state of New York. They were called in four nights ago and the stress mixed with a high dose of adrenaline that had run through their veins were on it’s way out of their system, leaving all the members dead to their feet and wishing for much needed rest over the remaining weekend.

“Hotch,” Reid captured his unit chief’s attention as they waited for the remaining members, Morgan and Rossi, to come down from their respective hotel rooms. “I’d like to stay behind, if that’s alright.”

There was a minuscule eyebrow raise from Hotch in question.

“Huh,” Emily mused, a teasing smile appearing on her face. “Funny, there’s also a certain someone that we know—” she gestured to herself and JJ. “—who’s in New York today. Isn’t that right, JJ?”

The blonde profiler let out a laugh. “Yeah, I wonder if that has something to do with Spence staying behind.”

“Well, does it?” Emily lightly elbowed him in jest.

Spencer clears his throat, trying his best to come off casual but utterly failing with his voice going up an octave. “Maybe.”

“It’s the weekend, take your day off,” Hotch conceded. “And Reid, congratulations.”

“For what?”

A tenor voice answered behind him. Morgan, it was Morgan. “For finally getting a girlfriend.”

“Good on you, kid,” Rossi added on, patting his back as he made his way through.

———

Locks of hair were escaping your loosely tied bun as you brisk walked to get to the steps of the MET museum. The emergency meeting with suppliers ran a little later than you anticipated making you already fifteen minutes late from your agreed meet up with Spencer.

A smile graced your face as your thoughts settled on the perfect gentleman. It had been a perfect match made by your three friends, Emily, Penelope, and JJ.

A blind date that had gone so great that it blossomed another date and another. This spontaneous one marked as the fifth and it brought to mind the first meeting at the steps of the Smithsonian and Spencer’s chivalrous move of tying your loose shoe lace.

“I’m so sorry for being late,” your voice reaching Spencer’s ears before he spots you adjusting the straps of your falling shoulder bag approaching his form. “The supplier didn’t come on time so I—I’m sorry.”

He rocked on his heels, hands wrapped around his satchel strap. “That’s alright, I just arrived myself.”

You knew it was a lie but appreciated his effort in trying to make you feel better. That was just one of the many things you could see yourself falling for in Spencer. As if you weren’t already halfway there.

“Shall we?” His lips forming a smile, no doubt remembering those were the exact words he said during the first date.

You giggled, echoing the same response. “We shall.”

“So is there a specific section you want to visit first?” Spencer asked as he flashed two admission tickets at the entrance.

“Hm,” you scooted closer to his svelte protective form, avoiding the onslaught of tourists groups excitedly entering. “The gallery of European paintings?”

He smiled and nodded. His left hand hovering near the small of your back, never touching—its’ warmth penetrating the thick layers of your coat and sweater while the gesture made your heart flutter fast like the hummingbird’s wings.

There was comfortable silence in between you. Inconspicuous side glances and shy smiles that say a thousand more words that seemingly can’t or won’t be spoken out loud. The tranquility was a sharp contrast to the bustling and echoing noise all around the museum as guests discuss with their partners the surrounding art and take photos as personal mementos.

Your feet came to a stop in front of your favorite artist’s work. “I always did prefer his work more than Van Gogh.”

Spencer smiled, gaze warm on your side profile as his eyes traced the escaped locks of hair that framed the modern art standing beside him which was you and your expressive face. His fingers, as if hypnotized, reached out to tuck one side that casted a shadow on your feature behind your pinking ear. “Actually, when you look at Klimt’s early landscape paintings, you could see he took inspiration from the Dutch painter.”

“Really?” Your body twisting to face him.

He studied your body language. Arms limp at the sides, open and trusting. Torso slightly leaning forward, attention fully captivated. And eyes wide, twinkling with curiosity. “Yeah, yeah—” he nodded, his own body mimicking yours and its unsaid language. “—and although Klimt’s colors are stronger in contrast, the impact from having viewed Van Gogh’s paintings in his earlier life can be spotted in his brush strokes and painting subjects.”

“Spence, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but you don’t strike me as an art critic. Is it a side of you that I’m only finding about now?” You teased.

“No,” he laughed, tucking his hands at the front of his jeans to fight the urge to touch you once more. “I read about it.”

“Can you tell me more then?” you further leaned in and whispered. “I bet you’d do a slightly better job than their pre-recorded audio tours.”

Spencer threw his head back and let a few chuckles echo on the walls. Your mind and its clever wit had impressed him since the first date. It was one of the many things he could see falling for in you. That was a half lie. In full truth, it was one of the many things that made him fall for you.

“Well, Klimt’s most expensive painting was previously stolen by the Nazis during WWII when they occupied Austria. Austrian Museum housed it after the war but there was a court battle for it and they had to return it the the family owner. And in 2006, Oprah actually bought it—” your smooth hands cupped his face, bringing his ramblings into a stuttering halt. His heartbeat, nestled within his ribcage, threatening to break from its confines as you stood on your tip toes, leaving a series of small kisses at ends of his mouth before landing on his awaiting lips.

“I—I’m so sorry,” eyes wide as you leaned back from his reach. A move that didn’t widen the gap as his body hunched itself forward, following you in its wake. “I couldn’t resist.”

He answered with a longer kiss, fingers twining with your silky locks of hair that had fascinated him since a while ago. “Don’t be. I’ve been wanting to do that too, I just didn’t know if you’d welcome it.”

You exhaled a giggle, cheeks pink with happiness. “You definitely can, anytime.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” his smile mirrored the euphoria written on your face. If he were to try to describe this very emotion, he’d compare it to walking on cloud nine. To winning a lottery. Or perhaps to finding an invaluable art piece meant just for him.

And while the surroundings were still dull and mundane, there were a burst of colors that splashed Spencer’s world anew as his warm comforting hand now finally found its way to yours and his thumb invisibly painting abstract at the back of your palm.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[acesofspadess]

Track Walk {2}

landoscar x content creator!reader

part 1 // part 2 // part 3

series summary: You were invited to the Miami GP for your Track Walk series on social media, what follows after you run into a certain Papaya boy, no one could prepare you for...

series warnings: cursing, angst, smut, making out, mentions of people you may not like, mmf, threesome/throuple, if there is more let me know... ;)

a/n: this a long 4 part series, but the chapters will be released daily!! also... there is no hate to anyone mention in this story, it is a work of fiction and any hate towards the characters/people will be deleted.

Singapore 2024

So here you were, the Singapore GP. The past 5 days were eventful to say the least. Your body was covered in love bites from each boy, there was no telling who gave which. Apparently the entire grid and the wags knew, which helped them cover up to the media. You walked in with Lando and Oscar, laughing at a stupid joke Lando said. To anyone besides the drivers, it was a very fun friend group, but you were sure it would stir something up. “Hello, hello, hello.” You waved with a large smile at the camera. “We don’t usually do evening walks do we? But Singapore is the beginning of the night races so get used to it…” The track walk and the weekend went just as planned. During that weekend you met Max Fewtrell for the first time. It was very scary for you. This was someone Lando had grown up with, someone he had chosen to be one of the important people in his life, and you knew how this could look to an outsider- an F1 creator dating not one, but two, of the most prized drivers in the sport. But you two immediately hit it off. “I just know Oscar is enjoying not being the only one having to handle his mess.” He laughed as you guys watched Free Practise. “It’s not even the mess though, Max, it’s the food!...”

The entire weekend was looking favorable for McLaren, and then when Lando kept his position into the first lap, you knew it was game over, another McLaren win was pending. And right you were. “Lando Norris can stop hearing about his starts, and start hearing about his finishes! For the third time Lando Norris takes the chequered flag…”

You bounced up and down with Max as Lando screamed into the radio. “That's a double podium finish for McLaren!” You screamed and he laughed with you before giving you a hug. “They’ll want to see you.” He told her and she shook her head. “Too much attention, they’ll see us after.” She said not wanting to leave Max behind.

The music thumps through the club you all decided to go to after you finished at the track, vibrating the floors as colorful lights flash across the crowded room. Lando, Oscar, and you move through the throng of people, your body already buzzing with the high of celebration. Lando’s win had electrified the night, and the three of you are ready to let loose—carefully.

Lando’s arm stays draped over your shoulder as you make your way to a private booth near the dance floor, Oscar trailing closely behind. 

Around the booth, the other drivers and their girlfriends are scattered—Carlos and Rebecca, Max who was running solo, Charles and Alexandra, Pierre and Kika—all laughing and cheering. The energy is high, but there’s an unspoken understanding between them. They know. “I would say cheers to Lando’s amazing race-” Carlos started, “but you only won because of her.” Lando and Oscar shook their heads as everyone around you laughed.

You laughed too, cheeks heating as Lando pulls you closer. "You’re not wrong," he teases, brushing a quick, casual kiss against your temple. It’s brief enough to pass as friendly, but the way your heart skips betrays its meaning. Oscar slides in on your other side, his hand finding your knee under the table and giving it a gentle squeeze, hidden by the dim lighting and shadows.

They’re subtle but deliberate, their touches igniting sparks that make your heart race. The conversation swirls around you, but the trio only has eyes for each other. When the music shifts to something slower and sultry, Lando tugs your hand. "Dance with me," he says, voice low and irresistible.

You follow him onto the dance floor, Oscar not far behind. Lando’s hands find your waist, pulling you against him as your bodies move in sync. Oscar presses in from behind, his chest warm against your back as his fingers brush your arm, sending a thrill down your spine. It’s intoxicating—the heat, the music, the feel of both their bodies surrounding you.

But you have to be careful. Lando shifts slightly, turning you just enough to keep you shielded from prying eyes, and Oscar’s touch drifts away whenever someone looks too closely. The tension grows with every near-miss, every stolen glance, and every lingering brush of fingertips.

Lando leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "You’re ours tonight," he murmurs, voice rough with desire. Your pulse quickens as Oscar’s lips skim your shoulder—quick, subtle, and hidden in the dim lights—adding to the heat coiling low in your stomach.

The three of you move as one, but always just discreet enough to keep your secret. The world blurs around you—flashing lights, the beat of the bass, laughter from your friends at the booth. None of it matters. All you can feel is the heat of their touches, the fire in their eyes, and the promise of what the rest of the night will hold.

f1gossipofficial

liked by user45 and others

f1gossipofficcial The papaya boys went out to celebrate last night with other drivers as well as their girlfriends, but pictures show the papaya boys very close with each other. This comes after a recent video McLaren uploaded where Oscar and Lando were seen holding hands at one point and being very touchy… 

user45 oh this is crazy

user67 how do papaya rules work now’

user18 they had a good time last night

user4 how about we stay out of there lives and not dissect and try to out people who clearly don’t want to be outed

user68 landoscar was too good to be fake

user49 i for sure thought one of themm was going to get with Y/N

user23 i thought it was Lando user90 i thought it was Oscar user62 am i crazy for saying both user23 user62 yes user49 user62yes user90 user62 yes

“This sucks.” Oscar said into her neck. They were at the airport saying goodbye because they wouldn’t see each other for another month. “I know, I’m sorry love.” You giggled softly at his dramatics. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, finger scratching the strands of hair at the top of his neck. You looked at Lando who watched the scene unfold. Oscar wasn’t much of a showy person, so seeing him show anything they never took for granted. 

“Osc, you okay?” Lando asked seeing his shoulders raise and then drop deeply. “I just feel so complete with her here, I don’t like when she isn’t.” He told his boyfriend who rubbed his back. He finally pulled off letting Lando hug you around your waist lifting you up. “Gonna miss you baby.” he said kissing your cheek knowing people were around. “I’ll miss you both so much. But we’ve done it before right? Osc you’ll see your family. Lan you’re going to Portugal with Max. We’ll al be so busy, it won’t feel like a month will it?”

Lando and Oscar nodded holding onto each other. You checked your RM watch, one the duo had gotten for you this previous weekend. “Time to go, babies.” you sighed. They scooped you into one big hug. “See you soon.” You kissed both of their cheeks before they walked off to their own gate, leaving you at yours. 

The month at home was supposed to be a time to recharge, but it only left you restless. Your days blurred together in a haze of casual errands, late-night shows, and constant texts from Lando and Oscar. The messages were frequent and full of love—updates about their time apart, teasing remarks, random photos, and sweet "miss you" notes despite the time zones. Even with their busy schedules, they made an effort to check in, and it always left you smiling.

Then came the post.

Your best friend stormed into your shared flat, phone clutched in hand. “Y/N, you need to see this,” she said, eyes wide with urgency. She handed you her phone, and your stomach dropped.

There, on a gossip page, was a photo of Lando and Magui faces and bodies very close to each other with big smiles on their face in company of Max and Pietra. The caption read: “Lando Norris spotted looking cozy with Magui and friends. This is after rumours of them earlier in the year were clouded over by new friend Y/n L/n and his teammate Oscar Piastri that Lando has been seen getting very flirty with...”

You froze, the phone trembling in your hands, the three of you already saw the airport photos of your group hug. It was what it was to you three though. “What the hell?” you whispered, voice barely audible.

Your mind flashed back to when Lando and Oscar had confessed something about Magui. They’d told you they’d once considered inviting her into their relationship, but something had always held them back. Then they’d met you, and everything changed. They knew immediately they wanted you.

You pushed the memory away, your chest tightening as you stared at the picture.

Without a second thought, you dialed them both. They picked up almost immediately, Lando’s voice warm and his face smiley. “Hey, baby,” he greeted.

Your throat constricted. “I’m not coming to the next GP,” you blurted.

There was a pause. “What? Y/N, what are you talking about? We planned this together.” Oscar cut in confusion on his face.

“I just can’t,” you said, your voice breaking and eyes filling with tears. You didn’t want to bring up the post, unsure if Oscar even knew.

“Wait, what's wrong?” Lando asked, concerned about lacing his tone as he saw your eyes fill.

You shook your head, not trusting yourself. “I’ll talk to you later.” You hung up before they could say more.

That night, your best friend held you as you cried, her arms wrapped tightly around you. “They don’t deserve you if they’re going to pull this shit,” she murmured. But her words only made you cry harder.

The next day, your phone erupted with notifications.

From Lando: "Baby, I swear it’s not what it looks like. Please call me." "I would never do this to you. You have to trust me. Nothing happened." "I’ll explain everything if you just call me. Please, Y/N."

From Oscar: "Y/N, I didn’t think this would get so out of hand. I’m sorry." "You mean everything to us. Don’t let this ruin us." "Please, let’s talk. I’ll tell you everything."

From Max Fewtrell: "Y/N, you know Lando wouldn’t do this to you. He’s losing his mind right now. Please talk to him."

From Alexandra: "Hey, I saw the post. Are you okay? Call me if you need to vent."

From Rebecca: "Y/N, this is so unfair to you. If you need to talk, I’m here."

You ignored them all, until finally, you caved and called Lando and Oscar. They answered on FaceTime, both looking worried.

“Nothing is happening with Magui,” Lando said quickly.

Oscar nodded. “We wouldn’t do that to you. You have to know that.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell us?” You sighed aggravatedly. “If you knew she was going to be there why wouldn’t you say anything? Why would you get close with her again knowing someone's eyes are always on  you.

But then, Lando and Oscar got very silent, you could have thought the screen froze, and something passed between them. It was subtle, but enough to make your stomach churn. “What?” you pressed.

Oscar sighed. “I knew she’d be there. I thought it would be fine.”

Your chest tightened as Oscar's words hit you like a punch. "You knew?" you whispered, barely able to contain the hurt. "You knew she'd be there and didn’t say anything?"

Oscar hesitated, looking like he wasn’t sure how to answer. "I didn’t think it would be a big deal," he said quietly. "I thought it’d just be... fine."

"But it is a big deal!" you snapped, your voice rising, frustration bubbling over. "If you had just told me, I wouldn’t be upset. I could have handled it, but now it feels like you’re hiding something. Like you’re trying to have your cake and eat it too."

Lando’s voice cut through the tension, softer but still desperate. "Y/N, that’s not it. We didn’t want you to feel like this. We didn’t mean for it to look like we were hiding anything from you."

"You did hide it, Lando," you shot back, shaking your head. "You knew she was going to be there, and you didn’t tell me. It makes it seem like you wanted to keep me in the dark while keeping her close, like I’m some backup plan."

Oscar looked pained, and Lando seemed to be searching for the right words. "It’s not like that," Oscar said quickly, but there was an edge of panic in his voice. "I didn’t think this would happen. I thought it’d be fine."

"But it’s not fine," you responded, your voice cracking slightly as the weight of it all hit you. "You’ve betrayed my trust, Oscar. And Lando, you should’ve known better. If you had told me, we could have figured it out. But now? Now I feel like everything we shared was an act, something to keep you occupied while you figured your feelings out."

Lando opened his mouth, clearly struggling, so Oscar spoke up in a low voice. "Please, Y/N, we didn’t mean to hurt you. We just... didn’t think—"

"Exactly," you interrupted, your voice soft. "You didn’t think. If you had, we wouldn’t be here right now. I know it's only been a few months, but I thought our relationship was stronger than this. I thought I meant more to you than this, but you’ve shown me I don’t."

“No Y/N-”

With that, you ended the call, the sound of the FaceTime disconnecting echoing in your ears. You sat back on the couch, your heart aching, but you knew this was the only way to handle it. They had crossed a line, and now you had to protect yourself from the mess they had made.

Max Fewtrell texted shortly after: "Y/N, I know what it looks like, but I promise Lando wouldn’t do this to you. He’s doing his head in and acting erratically, please talk to him. He’s about to go into a race weekend." 

Hattie messaged, too.. “Oscar fucked up, but I’ve also never seen him this upset with himself. He is so sorry, I’ll never tell you what to do, but just know he really cares.

You ignored everyone.

Of course you watched the triple header, you were still their girlfriend, and before that you were their number 1 supporter. Track Walks were not as fun to you during that time, everything reminded you of what happened. They still texted you everyday, telling you about their day, about their thoughts on the race, saying they missed you and they were so sorry.

But Brazil was a disaster. The rain poured relentlessly, creating dangerous conditions on the track. Both Lando and Oscar struggled, and a red flag giving those who hadn’t had a pitstop a free one essentially knocked Lando out of the Drivers' Championship contention, but besides that, out of a win. Your heart ached watching it all unfold, tears falling down your face slowly, but you stayed silent, refusing to reach out.

A few days later, Max went live on stream with Lando. Lando sounded tired, wanting to stay muted when he didn't have to be heard, his voice hoarse. He admitted he’d been eating old food from months ago and wasn’t feeling well. Max F texted both you and Oscar after the stream: "Lando needs you. He’s not doing well at all."

Oscar replied immediately: "I’m on my way."

You stared at the message, conflicted. It wasn't until the next day when you were eating lunch that Oscar's text messages were blowing up your phone,

Osco: Baby, I know you don't want to talk to us, but Lando really isn't doing well.

Osco: I've spent all morning with him crying into my arms, degrading himself, it hurts so much to hear. He thinks everything is over, he needs you baby. I need you. 

Finally, you texted Alexandra and Rebecca, asking what you should do. 

Mes Amours 💗

You: Help…Oscar’s been texting me about Lando this morning. He said he spent the morning crying, degrading himself, and thinks everything’s over. I want to be there, but I’m so hurt. I don’t know what to do.

Alexandra: Wow… I knew things were rough for them, but that’s heavy. You’ve got to take care of yourself first though. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.

Rebecca: I get that, but… it won’t get better if you don’t talk to them. And, Y/N, I’m going to be honest here: Carlos is worried about Lando too. He told me Lando’s been completely off lately—barely eating, barely talking. He’s spiraling.

Alexandra: Wait, really? I mean, I knew they weren’t doing great in Brazil, but I didn’t think it was that bad.

Rebecca: It is. Carlos says he hasn’t been himself for weeks. And honestly, if Carlos is worried, you know it’s serious. Lando needs you, Y/N. Even if it’s just to talk. You don’t have to forgive them yet, but they need you right now.

You: I’ve missed them so much, it hurts. But I’m scared. What if I go back and things still don’t feel right? What if they don’t really understand how much they hurt me?

Rebecca: Then you tell them. You lay it all out there. But Y/N, we know how deeply you care for them, and it’s obvious they care about you too. I think they understand, they just need to see you in person.

Alexandra: Whatever you do, we are holding your hand.  Taking a deep breath, you texted Max Verstappen: Can I use your jet?

[probablyasocialecologist]

THE REGIONAL WAR in the Middle East now involves at least 16 different countries and includes the first strikes from Iranian territory on Israel, but the United States continues to insist that there is no broader war, hiding the extent of American military involvement. And yet in response to Iran’s drone and missile attacks Saturday, the U.S. flew aircraft and launched air defense missiles from at least eight countries, while Iran and its proxies fired weapons from Iraq, Syria, and Yemen.

[...]

While the world has been focused on — and the Pentagon has been stressing — the comings and goings of aircraft carriers and fighter jets to serve as a “deterrent” against Iran, the U.S. has quietly built a network of air defenses to fight its regional war. “At my direction, to support the defense of Israel, the U.S. military moved aircraft and ballistic missile defense destroyers to the region over the course of the past week,” President Joe Biden said in a statement Saturday. “Thanks to these deployments and the extraordinary skill of our servicemembers, we helped Israel take down nearly all of the incoming drones and missiles.” As part of that network, Army long-range Patriot and Terminal High Altitude Area Defense surface-to-air missile batteries have been deployed in Iraq, Kuwait, the United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and at the secretive Site 512 base in Israel. These assets — plus American aircraft based in Kuwait, Jordan, the UAE, Qatar, and Saudi Arabia — are knitted together in order to communicate and cooperate with each other to provide a dome over Israel (and its own regional bases). The United Kingdom is also intimately tied into the regional war network, while additional countries such as Bahrain have purchased Patriot missiles to be part of the network. Despite this unambiguous regional network, and even after Israel’s attack on Iran’s embassy in Syria earlier this month, the Biden administration has consistently denied that the Hamas war has spread beyond Gaza. It is a policy stance — and a deception — that has held since Hamas’s October 7 attack. “The Middle East region is quieter than it has been in two decades,” Biden’s national security adviser Jake Sullivan said in an ill-timed remark eight days before October 7. “We don’t see this conflict widening as it still remains contained to Gaza,” deputy Pentagon press secretary Sabrina Singh said the day after three U.S. troops were killed by a kamikaze drone launched by an Iran-backed militia at a U.S. base in Jordan. Since then (and even before this weekend), the fighting has spread to Iraq, Syria, Jordan, and Yemen.

[earlysunshines]

fall is for falling (for you)

newjeans (unnie line) x fem!reader ; fluff!!!!!

synopsis: separate autumn themed oneshots with newjeans unnie line bc i saw a pile of leaves the other day ; 2k special!!

warnings: puuuurre fluff ; making out kinda ; nothing else that i can think of ; anything i didn't mention ; sorry to the readers that don’t have fall / experience a diff season atm it’s basically autumn for me :-P or maybe i’m getting ahead of myself it’s still like 20+ degrees

a/n: THANKYOU FOR 2K WHATTTTTT THE HELL!!! idk how to structure this and it's different from the usual looong fics LOL idk smth different for this crazy milestone THANK YOU!!! i can't believe this is real... i can’t express my gratitude enough… two gazilliontrillionbillion subscribers... in just over a year... i can't believe this... THANK YOU! enjoy :-D

ALSO new user whatsUP! :-p

kim minji - pumpkin carving

minji hears the door creak open but doesn't bother to look up; she already knows it's you. she braces herself, expecting you to burst in dramatically like always: groaning loudly, tossing your bag onto the rug, and collapsing onto the couch next to her with a tired sigh. but instead of the usual commotion, she notices the absence of a familiar thump on the couch, no tired exhale signaling your arrival. 

she peeks up, only to find you grinning with a large pumpkin cradled in your arms, your eyes bright with excitement. 

“what’s this?” minji asks, eyebrows furrowing as she pulls off her headphones, glancing away from her laptop.

“it’s a sweet potato, what do you think?” you tease, your tone playful as you reach over and close her laptop without hesitation, sliding it to the side. “c’mon, it’s friday. pleeease help me carve it?”

she pauses, eyes narrowing slightly as she meets your gaze. you tug gently on her wrist, the warmth of your hand lingering on her skin, and she can feel the heat rising to her cheeks. her resolve wavers, and she sighs, tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek. 

“fine.”

minji doesn't regret agreeing, not when your face lights up like that. the way you smile makes her chest feel warm, a flutter she wishes she could escape.

you both set up at the kitchen counter, and she watches as you rummage around, grabbing all three knives you both own. 

(there used to be just one—a medium-sized knife—but you insisted on buying more. what if there were small things to cut? or bigger things? the two of you have argued over countless trivial things you own, but somehow, she always ends up letting you have your way. maybe it’s because she secretly adores you, not as subtly as she thinks.)

you put on a playlist that jumps all over the place; first, it’s sza, and you hum along, lost in the melody. then a city pop track comes on, the abrupt change making minji raise her brows. your taste in music is unpredictable, like a rollercoaster, every song a surprise. but minji never complains. she loves how you sway to the music, singing softly as you sketch a face on the pumpkin with intense concentration. 

and for a moment, she forgets about the essay she has to write, the deadline, the weekend. all she sees is you, the soft light catching the curve of your smile, and it's enough.

–

an hour passes, but it feels like only seconds.

you and minji have been carving away, scooping out the pumpkin’s insides as she grins at the way you squirm with every handful. when she slips out a soft “cute,” your face heats up instantly, but neither of you says anything more. you assume she’s talking about the face you’ve drawn on the pumpkin, but all of you hopes it’s you she’s referring to.

you sneak glances at her from time to time, drawn to the way her hair falls loose from its tie, her glasses slipping down her nose, and her tongue peeking out in concentration. you reach over to push her glasses back up, and her hand slips—almost cutting herself. you laugh, but your heart is racing inside your chest.

the kitchen table is a mess. pumpkin guts and seeds are scattered everywhere, a few strands of orange pulp hanging off the edge. you’re both standing side by side, spoons in hand, breathless from laughter.

“this is the worst pumpkin carving attempt i’ve ever seen,” minji declares, wiping her forehead with the back of her wrist, unknowingly smearing pumpkin across her skin.

“you mean the best,” you counter with a grin, scooping out another stringy handful. “it’s a masterpiece in the making.”

she rolls her eyes, but you catch the smile she tries to hide. “if by ‘masterpiece,’ you mean ‘disaster,’ then yeah, sure.”

you nudge her shoulder, still laughing. “hey, it’s not that bad! we just need to… appreciate its unique aspects.”

minji laughs like a dork, you love it—bright and loud—making your chest warm. “fine, but if this pumpkin ends up looking like a troll, i’m blaming you.”

“i’ll take full responsibility,” you joke. “besides, it’s already got your eyebrows.”

she gasps in mock offense. “excuse me? my eyebrows are perfect, thank you very much.”

you snicker and turn back to the pumpkin, but your eyes keep drifting to her. she’s leaning in close, focus intent, tongue poking out slightly as she carves a crooked smile.

it’s hard to concentrate with her so close. something about this feels different—more intimate, more charged.

(and it doesn’t help that you’ve found her attractive ever since you barged into the apartment while she was moving boxes, almost knocking over her stuff.

it also doesn’t help that your crush on her has only grown. english nerds were always a little dorky and cute to you.

or maybe it’s just minji. minji, who you used to bicker with about her loud music or her sudden screams in the middle of the night over some game.

it definitely doesn’t help that you like minji a lot.)

she catches you looking at her, and for a moment, the room goes still. her eyes soften, and your cheeks heat up again. she quirks an eyebrow. “what are you staring at?”

you shrug with a grin. “nothing, sorry. you just look stupid, that’s all.”

she rolls her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks deepens, and your heart skips a beat.

minji finishes the smile on the pumpkin and steps back, hands on her hips, looking at it with a satisfied grin. “done! would you look at that…”

the pumpkin is… well, it has a crooked smile, one eye bigger than the other, and a nose that could pass for a potato. it’s perfect.

“it’s amazing,” you say, and you mean it. not because of the pumpkin, but because of how proud she looks, her eyes bright, cheeks flushed from laughing.

she turns to you, and for a moment, you’re just smiling at each other. then, almost without thinking, you reach up and brush a stray pumpkin seed from her hair.

she blinks, startled, her breath catching. “uh… thanks,” she mumbles, her cheeks darkening to a deeper pink.

“of course,” you say softly, your hand lingering in her hair a moment too long.

the air thickens, something unsaid hanging between you. you’re about to speak, but then minji’s hand is on your jawline, and her lips are on yours.

it’s short, barely a few seconds, but in the last half-second, you start to process it and try to kiss back. but before you can properly reciprocate, minji pulls away, her hand flying back like you’re something hot to the touch.

“i’m so sorry,” she stammers, looking mortified. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. it’s just you looked really good, and i couldn’t help myself, and i’m so sorry, i should’ve—”

you lean in again, cutting her off, capturing the rest of her mumbled apology with your lips. she relaxes into the kiss, her head angling slightly to make it more comfortable, her hand resting on your waist. she pushes you gently against the counter, her body close to yours.

when the need for air becomes too strong, you both pull away, breathless. you look at her—her eyes still half-lidded, cheeks flushed deep red, and you can’t help but giggle, hiding your face in your shoulder to mask how flustered you are.

you just kissed your roommate, and she kissed you back, pulled you closer by the waist, tasted like orange flavored lip balm, smelled like lavender and something floral.

“holy shit,” you mumble, half-laughing. “we just kissed.”

“y-yeah.” minji’s voice is small, almost disbelieving. “did you like it?”

“minji, you’re so cute.” you pull back to look at her, smiling as you smooth her hair. her glasses slide down again, so you take them off and set them on the counter beside you. you twirl a strand of her hair around your finger, teasing her, and she looks like she might melt on the spot.

her hand slides to the back of your neck, making you shiver, and she leans back just enough to murmur, “i’m assuming you did.”

“good observation,” you say, rolling your eyes.

she laughs, her fingers pressing slightly into your skin, and your knees feel a little weak. “so, do we keep carving pumpkins or…?”

you grin, pulling her closer. “we could… make out a little more on the couch instead? if our lips go numb, then… movie?”

minji’s smile is bright, her eyes soft. “i like that idea.”

hanni pham - a hoodie for the seasons changing

hanni walks along the inside of the sidewalk because you decided when you were eleven that it was better for her to be farther from the street, less at risk. even now, a few weeks into your last year of high school, you still keep her on the safe side. it's just one of those things you do without thinking. it’s an unspoken rule between the two of you, so hanni hadn’t thought twice about the way you pulled her by the arm to push her on her designated side.

(she did think twice about how firm your grip was, and how you had your hand on her. your bigger, stronger, nicer hands.)

with the weekend ahead, you both agree there’s no better plan than crashing at your place after school on a friday. your hands brush against each other as you walk, but neither of you say anything. you never do; never have, not about the little things, like the shared smiles, the secret glances, the quiet laughter. instead, you let yourselves enjoy the moments, bask in the warmth that fills your chest each time.

you make it to your house, then up the stairs until you two are in your room. you immediately find hanni's sweatpants in your closet — the ones she left behind last time because she’s at your house more than half the week. you'd washed them with your clothes on laundry day, because it would’ve been rude not to. you toss them to her along with one of your t-shirts. “go change,” you say, nudging her toward the bathroom with a grin.

"hey!" hanni groans, swatting your hand away as you poke her side, making her jump. “you’re so—”

“just hurry up and change so we can relax on my bed. you know how i feel about outside clothes…”

she rolls her eyes but can't help the smile that tugs at her lips, watching the little crease form between your brows from the annoyance. it’s cute, she thinks, even if she’d never admit it. she closes the bathroom door, locks it, and starts changing. her sweatpants fit the same — they’re hers, after all — but your t-shirt hangs loose and oversized on her. it’s soft against her skin, and smells like your detergent and jasmine and peaches, like you. her heart races a little. 

she catches her reflection in the mirror and notices how the shirt falls around a fingers length past her waistline. it’s not like she’s drowning in the shirt, but it’s definitely a size or two larger; you’re taller and more muscular, which happens to be her type — a fact she’s noticed a little too much for her liking. she feels a flutter in her chest, a mix of nerves and something she doesn’t want to name, then quickly shakes it off, rolling her shoulders like she can physically push the feeling away.

she takes a breath, tugs at the hem of the shirt once more, and steps out of the bathroom, trying not to think about how much she likes wearing something that belongs to you.

when she steps out a few minutes later, she finds you on your bed with your legs spread out and hands up to hold your phone. you’re in plaid pajama joggers and your dad’s old university hoodie, you look comfy and snug, you look adorable.

she jumps on your bed, landing beside you with a bounce. the mattress shifts, and your phone slips from your grip, smacking you square in the cheek. hanni laughs at the sight.

“hey!” you groan, shooting her a playful glare.

“loser.” she mutters, reaching over to mess up your hair. “scoot over, you’re hogging the whole bed.”

“whatever.” you roll over, patting the space beside you. hanni shuffles closer, pulling the blanket over both of you. your arm naturally slips under her neck, and she nestles in, the top of her head resting against your chest.

“comfy?” she can hear the smirk in your voice.

“yeah.” she replies softly, though her heart races. 

neither of you ever comments on the way you always end up like this, close and tangled up in each other. the term is ‘cuddling,’ but if either of you were to call it that, you’d probably cringe, cheeks flushing with an embarrassed heat neither of you could ignore.

hanni grabs her phone, opening instagram. she scrolls, her breathing evening out as she likes every animal video and taps through every story. you watch her through half-closed eyes, feeling a calm settle over you. your other arm drapes over her waist, your breathing slowing, growing heavier. 

she doesn’t notice at first, too engrossed in her phone. but when she switches to the camera, she catches a glimpse of your nose nuzzled in her hair, your eyes fully closed. she zooms in to confirm the soft snores she hears, then grins, quietly snapping a picture. she shifts, turning the camera on herself to capture both of you together.

for a while, she stays like that, tucked in your arms, watching an episode of a crime show she’s gotten hooked on. her head tilts at an odd angle, but she doesn’t mind. you’re asleep and warm beside her, and that’s all that matters.

three episodes later, she checks the time and realizes over an hour and a half has passed. somewhere in that time, you’ve pulled her closer in your sleep, murmuring something she can’t quite make out. her heart stutters each time your hand shifts against her waist, your fingers brushing against the fabric, the only layer away from her skin.

her stomach growls softly, breaking the quiet, and she decides it’s time to wake you up. turning over, your faces are inches apart, and she stops, taking a moment to just look at you. then, she leans back slightly and snaps another picture before reaching to poke your cheek. when you don’t stir, she pinches instead, shaking your shoulder lightly.

you groan, turning away from her. “five minutes… please.”

“c’mon, sleeping beauty, i’m hungry…” she sighs, her tone teasing.

“five minutes.” you mumble, voice thick with sleep. “just five more…”

hanni sighs dramatically, then tries a new tactic. “i’ll pay if you get up right now. anything you want from the convenience store.”

you crack one eye open, barely, squinting at her. you roll over, sprawling into a starfish position. “fine… but five minutes, okay?” you plead, clinging to her leg.

hanni laughs softly at the warmth radiating from you, her resolve weakening. she runs her fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp gently until five minutes turns into ten, then fifteen. finally, she nudges you awake, and the two of you head out, still in your cozy clothes.

as you walk to the convenience store, staying close, hanni steps on a leaf that crunches underfoot. “wow, it’s already fall,” she murmurs.

“well, obviously.” you tease, only to get a kick to the back of your knee. you nearly stumble, catching yourself with a laugh. “what the hell?”

“you suck.” she grumbles, bumping her shoulder against yours.

“you suck more,” you retort, nudging her back.

“whatever.”

you smile at her, and she catches it from the corner of her eye. she nudges you away again, but you keep staring, unable to help yourself. “you’ve gotten really pretty, you know?”

“are you saying i used to be ugly?” she laughs lightheartedly, expecting a playful response, but instead, you surprise her.

“you’ve never been ugly.” your voice is softer, more sincere. “you’ve always been pretty.” then your voice gets quieter, “gorgeous.”

there’s a pause, both of you walking in silence for a moment. you kick a small rock forward, and it lands by hanni’s feet. she kicks it ahead, breaking the quiet. “thanks.” she says, feeling your eyes on her but not daring to meet your gaze. “you’ve always been cute too, ever since we met in fifth grade.”

“oh.” you whisper, looking up just in time to see the store ahead — a small savior from the tension that’s thickened the air between you. you clear your throat, trying to shift the mood. “i can’t wait for my free dinner.”

hanni pushes you playfully, and you pout, making her wish she could capture the expression and keep it forever.

you two head inside, and hanni visibly relaxes as the warm air greets you. she hadn’t mentioned how chilly it was outside, even though she could’ve easily put on her jacket. part of her had hoped, maybe, you’d notice and offer her your hoodie instead.

both of you wander around the store for about ten minutes, emerging with a pork bun and a sweet tea in your hands, while hanni clutches a sweet pastry and a can of soda. instead of turning back towards your house, you keep moving forward, hanni trailing just behind you. 

the route is familiar. it’s the path down to the little stream where you and hanni have shared countless secrets, talking until the sun dips below the horizon. tonight feels like one of those nights, perfect for sitting on the favorite bench you two have claimed as your own, watching the sunset as it starts a little earlier than usual.

you kick a small rock into the stream, watching the ripples spread out, and catch hanni shivering slightly in the corner of your eye as she takes a small bite of the sweet potato-filled bun. 

“can you hold my stuff?” you ask, extending your hands. hanni hums in confusion but takes your things without hesitation.

she watches as you stand up, pulling off your hoodie. her eyes linger on the way your long-sleeve shirt lifts slightly, revealing a hint of your torso, the lean muscle just barely visible in the fading light. she catches herself staring and quickly looks away, cheeks warming. you fix your hair casually before draping the hoodie over her lap.

she furrows her brows, looking up at you. “what?”

you glance down at the hoodie, then back at her. “put it on.”

“why?”

“because you’re cold.” you shrug, sitting back down beside her and taking the food and drinks out of her hands to set them down. you grab the hoodie again and pull it over her shoulders, tugging it down until her head pops through and the hood falls over her eyes. “better?”

she mumbles, “you didn’t have to.”

“it’s getting colder. i’m fine like this.” you reply, pinching the fabric of your shirt before reaching out to adjust the hood over her forehead, smoothing down her hair. a small smirk tugs at your lips as you add quietly, “besides, i know you wanted my hoodie anyway.”

she nearly chokes on air, her cheeks burning. “i– i didn’t! you’re so–”

“you look better in it anyway,” you chuckle, turning back to face the stream. you sneak a bite of her pastry, the playful smile on your lips growing.

hanni huffs but doesn't protest, her fingers curling into the sleeves of your hoodie, a smile sneaking onto her face despite herself.

she looks at you fondly, biting the inside of her cheek, before crossing her arms and turning her gaze to match yours. your hoodie is thick with your scent, and hanni feels like she could drown in it. without realizing it, she scoots closer, and you instinctively wrap an arm around her.

hanni can’t hold back anymore.

“y/n.”

“yes?”

“the fall dance is really early this year.”

“yeah, it’s next week. i feel like i’ll breathe and it’ll already time to get ready for it.”

“do you have a date?”

you scoff, shaking your head with a small laugh. “you know i’ve never managed to get a date for that. we always end up going with yunjin’s group anyway. are you teasing me for not having one?”

hanni chuckles, leaning even closer against your side. “maybe a little.”

“do you have a date?” you ask, glancing down at her.

“no.”

“you know, i overheard jay’s friends talking. sounds like he might ask you out.”

hanni cringes at the thought of jay, the guy from her statistics class who never stops staring at her. his crush on her is painfully obvious, and he always finds an excuse to talk to her or get her attention.

but the truth is, hanni's always wished you’d be the one to ask her to the fall dance, but you’re oblivious, always a little clueless.

“y/n,” she tries again, voice soft.

“yes?” 

“we should go to the fall dance together.”

“yeah, i was thinking that too. should we go with yunjin’s friend group again? jimin also asked if we wanted to–”

“no,” hanni interrupts, pulling away from your arm, and looks at you seriously. you tilt your head, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. she meets your gaze, but quickly looks away, suddenly feeling too exposed. “i was wondering if… well— ugh.” she pinches the bridge of her nose, then takes a deep breath and blurts out, “we should go together, alone, just us. we don't have to actually go to the dance, I know we just went out in the city last time and crashed at yunjins place and we can just do whatever you want to! i don't really care i just want to be with you becauseilikeyoualotand--"

hanni pauses before finally getting to her point. "i want you to be my date, y/n."

your lips curl into a sly smile, and then you laugh.

hanni's face is a mix of confusion and anxiety, her mind racing with uncertainty at your reaction. 

“took you long enough,” you say, grinning wider now. “i was going to ask you out, but i wanted to see if you had the guts to do it first.”

“asshole!” hanni groans, shoving you away. she turns her face to hide the deep flush coloring her cheeks. “i take it back.”

“no, you don’t.” your arm tightens around her, pulling her closer again, and you use your free hand to gently tilt her face towards you, fingers brushing her chin. “i’m not going to let you.”

her breath catches when your eyes flicker down to her lips, then back up to her eyes.

“w-was that a yes?” hanni asks, voice small, almost uncertain.

your fingers drop from her chin, and you lean back slightly against the bench. both of you are moving closer, almost unconsciously, drawn together by the tension. she feels her eyelids flutter, and you tilt your head, leaning in just a bit more.

“if i kiss you, would you take that as a yes?” you whisper, eyes focused on her lips.

hanni’s voice is barely audible as she murmurs, “mhm,” giving you the green light. you lean in and press a soft, quick kiss to her lips. she melts into it, feeling every nerve ending come alive in those few seconds. you pull back just enough to take in her flushed cheeks, the warmth of the autumn sun casting a soft glow over her face.

“i’d love to be your date, hanni,” you say softly, smiling as her face breaks into a relieved grin.

danielle marsh - apple picking

danielle stands beside you, her eyes bright with excitement as she takes in the familiar sight. she's wearing a pair of denim overalls over an old, oversized sweater that you know belongs to her dad, her wavy brown hair clipped up to keep loose strands from framing her face.

the apple orchard stretches out before you, rows of trees dotted with red and green apples glistening under the golden afternoon sun. you and danielle have been coming here every fall since you were kids, but this is the first time you've managed to make it back since starting college. the sunlight feels warm against your skin, but it definitely makes her shine brighter, even in the cool crispness of fall.

she grabs your hand, slipping her fingers into yours without a second thought, and pulls you down the path toward the orchard's entrance. you grin at how eager she is; being here together again fills you with a deep, comforting warmth. being around danielle always does that to you, really. 

a friendly man greets you at the entrance, handing you a basket and asking if you have any questions. you both shake your heads, and he gives you a cheerful smile, wishing you good luck.

it’s peak apple-picking season, so naturally the orchard is filled with families, couples, and groups of friends, all scouring the trees for the best apples. there’s a little worry in the back of your mind that the good ones might already be gone.

“so many people,” danielle breathes, a little awestruck. “i wonder if we’re too late.”

“we’ll be fine,” you assure her, squeezing her hand lightly. “when have we ever gotten a bad apple? even the green ones end up sweet.”

“maybe that's because you always pick them~” she teases, giving you that playful smile that always makes your stomach twist and turn. you hate it a little, but you love it more—especially the way it makes your cheeks heat up.

“you're so— ugh.” you look away, trying to hide the way she flusters you, but you tug her hand, pulling her along.

you wander a bit farther down the path, away from the crowd. danielle’s eyes light up when she spots a tree heavy with apples. she lets go of your hand, darting forward, studying the branches.

“this one’s perfect,” she says, reaching up on tiptoe, fingers just brushing a particularly shiny apple.

you watch her struggle for a moment, biting back a laugh. “need some help?”

she glances back, trying to look serious but failing. instead, she gives you her signature pout, the one that makes you melt everytime you see it. “i guess i could use a little help,” she admits.

you move closer, setting the basket down. “hop on,” you offer, patting your back.

she giggles before jumping onto your back, her laughter bright in your ear as you steady her by holding her legs. she reaches up, plucking the apple from the branch with a satisfied hum. "got it!"

“nice catch,” you say, lowering her back to the ground.

she turns to you, cheeks flushed from the thrill of the simple task, still holding the apple. “i’ve got my own personal apple-picking assistant,” she teases, nudging you.

“not free of charge,” you joke, smiling at her. 

her happiness is contagious, and you're more than willing to let it take over the afternoon. 

(and really, your whole life—but maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself.)

“but always happy to help, miss marsh.”

you and danielle spend the next couple of hours wandering through the orchard, picking apples, laughing, and reminiscing about the times you’d done this as kids. you remember danielle’s dad lifting you up on his shoulders when you were too small to reach, and the time she accidentally knocked one of your teeth out with a misplaced apple throw. her laughter fills the space between you, and more than once, she climbs onto your back again, her hands on your shoulders, her face so close you can feel her breath on your neck. it’s nerve-racking, but much more heart warming.

as the sun starts to dip, the air cools, and you catch danielle stifling a yawn. “getting sleepy?” you ask, watching her rub her eyes the same way she used to when you were younger.

"maybe a little," she admits, yawning again, trying to blink away the sleepiness settling in her eyes. "but i don't want to leave yet. this is too much fun."

 really, she doesn’t want the day to end at all. spending time with you like this feels like the good old days, back when things were simple and easy, and danielle would do just about anything to stretch it out a little longer. she's always been whipped for anything involving you, for every shared laugh, for every time your shoulder accidentally brushes hers. she knows she would spend every minute she has left doing nothing but this, being with you, if she could. it's been harder lately—with college and schedules pulling you both in different directions, with classes, work, and life taking up so much of the time she used to have with you. the thought makes her chest ache a little, makes her cling to this moment even more tightly, like she could hold on to it forever. 

“it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” she adds softly, her voice barely above a whisper, almost like she’s talking to herself more than you. “since we just got to be like this.”

“yeah,” you agree, a touch of something bittersweet in your smile. “way too long.”

her fingers brush yours, almost like she’s afraid you’ll slip away if she doesn't hold on, her hand still warm from holding yours all afternoon. “i wish we could do this every day,” she sighs, her tone playful and smile warm, but it makes her heart ache a bit.

you feel your heart squeeze at that, at the honesty in her voice, and you reach out, squeezing her hand in return. “me too,”

for a moment, you both stand there, just holding hands, feeling the weight of all the missed moments and the sweetness of the one you’re in now. the orchard is quieter now, the sun sinking lower, casting everything in a soft, golden light. you think it makes her look even more beautiful, like she belongs in a place like this, caught between the sunset and the apples and the way her smile seems to light up her whole face.

“anyway,” you clear your throat, breaking yourself from your trance. “we’ve been here for hours, dani,” you chuckle. “it’s okay if you’re tired.”

“okay, maybe i am tired,” she says, shoulders slumping. “fine, let's head back.”

“it’s an hour drive anyway, maybe longer with traffic,” you point out, pinching her cheek just because. “you can sleep in the car.”

after paying for your apples and accepting a free mini apple pie from the cashier, you head back to the car. you hold her hand with one hand and carry the bag of apples with the other, feeling content as you walk through the fading light.

at the car, danielle settles into the passenger seat, her eyes fluttering shut as soon as you start driving. you glance over at her, peaceful and serene in sleep, her lips slightly parted. she looks so pretty under the soft glow of the streetlights that you can’t resist taking a quick picture when you reach the nearest stop sign.

you drive quietly, letting the soft sounds of her breathing fill the car. when you arrive at her house, you unbuckle her seatbelt carefully, brushing your fingers over her skin in the process. she murmurs something in her sleep, but doesn’t wake. you gently lift her out of the car, cradling her against your chest. she instinctively wraps her arms around your neck, holding on like she doesn’t want to let go.

getting inside is a bit of a challenge; you end up going through the gate to the backyard. once you’re inside, you lay her down gently on the couch, intending to pull away, but she tightens her grip around you. “no, y/n… stay,” she mumbles.

your arm moves around her, instinctively pulling her closer, and you can feel the gentle rise and fall of her breathing against you, her body fitting perfectly into the curve of yours. she smells like apples and cinnamon and the orchard and what it feels like to be a child and filled with adoration. it fills your senses, making you feel like you’re wrapped up in everything that feels good and familiar.

your fingers continue to gently massage her scalp, and before long, your eyes grow heavy, and you drift off with her beside you, feeling completely at peace.

—

you aren’t sure how long you’d been asleep when the creak of the front door makes you stir. your eyes flutter open to a blurry room, the dim light barely catching on the edges of furniture. you blink, trying to sit up, but danielle’s weight is still against you, her face tucked into the curve of your neck, her breaths soft and steady. 

a quiet voice breaks the sleepy haze. “well, look at that.”

you blink harder, clearing your vision to see danielle’s parents standing in the doorway, looking amused. their expressions are soft, eyes twinkling with the kind of knowing that makes your cheeks flush. you shift slightly, attempting to move, but danielle’s hold tightens, her face burrowing deeper into your neck, refusing to let go even in her sleep.

“hi,” you manage, voice thick with sleep, feeling the warmth creep up your face. “we were just… she fell asleep in the car, and i didn’t want to wake her.”

danielle’s mom smiles gently, eyes creasing at the corners. “you two look comfortable. did you have fun at the orchard?”

“yeah…” you murmur, still a little groggy, the day’s warmth lingering in your chest.

danielle’s dad chuckles, his gaze softening. “she’s hanging on like a little bear,” he says with a grin. “reminds me of when you two were kids, falling asleep in the backseat. she’d twist herself into the strangest positions, and you always seemed to make room for her.”

of course you did, you always made room for her, whether that was in the backseat of her parents’ car, your mind, or your heart.

you feel your cheeks get hotter, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. you glance down at danielle, her face still nestled into you, and it strikes you how natural it feels, like this was always how it was supposed to be.

as her parents quietly make their way upstairs, you lean back into the cushions, fingers absentmindedly brushing through danielle’s hair, the strands soft against your skin.

“y/n?” her voice is a soft mumble, barely more than a whisper. “are my parents home?”

“yeah,” you say softly, feeling her shift slightly.

“mhm... can we stay like this?” her voice is slurred, on the edge of falling back into sleep.

“whatever you want, dani.”

“okay,” she breathes, then after a pause, “hey, y/n?”

“yeah?”

“thanks for today,” she sighs, her words sleepy and warm against your neck. “i love you.”

the words make your heart swell, and maybe it’s the sleepiness or the quiet of the room, but you find the courage to press a soft kiss to her forehead, even if it means twisting awkwardly. you close your eyes, letting yourself relax into the moment, thinking that maybe, just maybe, this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

“i love you too danielle.”

[pedge-page]

Hiii the breastfeeding question that can be used as a question or to a fic I was just curious because I love the sexual ones but I was like would u do one just a sweet one Joel had stressful day at work or Joel can’t sleep and needs the boob to help him and then it comes into a routine every night before and when he wakes up has milk and I’m also loving the mommy fics too. But don’t worry on the response time 💓

Routine

Joel Miller x F!Reader

warnings: breastfeeding, somewhat sub!Joel, not sexual but still mature content

`18+ ONLY

- - - -

He doesn’t even have the energy to slam his truck door. The frame is bent at the top, making it close unevenly. Two, three, sometimes four or five tries before it actually clicks close. He’s been meaning to get it fixed, hell, even just take a hammer and knock it somewhat back into shape, but he’s just too fucking exhausted today.

He lays his head back against the headrest, wrinkled eyes closed upwards. His nose involuntarily wrinkles: the cushions smell like smoke too. Tommy borrowed the truck yesterday and lit up his packs. The little fucker. 

He doesn’t get weekends off. He doesn’t get 8 hour shifts. He gets whatever shovel, hammer, nail and mud that needs dished out. He bears it, grunts it, heaves and shovels until his bones are cracking. 

He needs home.

When Joel gets through the garage door, he sees the living room lamp light on. The girls must already be asleep. You were probably staying up awake for him. Suffering, because of him.

Fuck. He shouldn’t think about it like that. He’s grateful for you. For many reasons.

He feels shy, hesitating at the door, pretending he’s dropped something because he’s a little too embarrassed to ask this one thing of you. 

“Joel?” You call out softly. It’s like swan-song to his ears, delicate and sweet. 

He steps into the room. “Hey.” You tilt your head to the side with a warm, tired smile. 

“You okay?”

He swallows, looking away and rubbing the back of his head as nonchalantly as possible. 

You tsk him with a bemused smile. “C’mere,” you whisper, patting the open cushion next to you for his invitation.

He shuffles towards you, his hole-ridden socks gliding along the shag carpet like a toddler dragging his feet. Joel kisses your forehead, his scruffy chin brushing against your lashes briefly before you grasp his cheeks and urge him to lie next to you. He tosses his jean-clad legs up on the length of the couch, propping his elbow on the seat so that he can face you.

“Bad day?” You hum, kissing his eyelids one at a time. He breathes you in, momentarily feeling lost in your embrace. You nuzzle his nose with yours, his eyes flickering open to meet your gaze again.

“Mmm,” he grunts. It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it.

But his eyes drift a bit lower, fingers fiddling with the spaghetti straps of your silk night-top. His pointer traces over its path, knuckles grazing your collarbone as he pulls the strap slowly, exposing a bit more of your chest. He plays with it, like he’s telling you something without words, but still waiting for your say-so.

He glances back up at you through his brows. 

“Will it help you sleep?” You coo.

He nods with big round eyes, his lips leaning forward to press a kiss to your breastbone. 

You stroke his face lovingly, giving him the answer he needed as you and he both reach to pull the edge of your top down, revealing your ample breasts.

He huffs his hot breath over your nipple before blowing cool air like a whistle, loving the way it tenses from the temperature change.  He brushes his thumb over your other as his lips find your nub, kissing it repeatedly. His plush lips wrap so delicately around them, baby kisses spoiling your skin.

“Five minutes. And then to bed, okay?”

He doesn’t want to waste time then.

Joel re-situates himself over you, his forearm holding himself between your thighs. He latches on to your tit, humming around your areola and starting to gently suck. Closing his eyes, he breathes steadily through his nose. Nothing audible yet, but quickly the room fills with the sound of his swallowing as his mouth is filled with your warm breastmilk.

You close your eyes, still twirling his hair with your fingers. He’s not inching for anything more. No quickened case. The two of you fall into an almost hypnotic trance of sleepiness.

His warm tongue massages your breast muscles as he works more milk out of you. He takes almost exactly 2 and a half minutes from one breast, before pulling off with a slight kiss, a droplet of white balancing off his lower lip. He eyes your other breast before putting his mouth on it, eyes closing and repeating his steady sucking. 

It fills his belly so contently. Warm and sweet, traveling from your heated body directly onto his taste buds, down his throat and safely nourishing his stomach. There’s no rush. He knows you’re here, your hand gently yet tenderly placed behind his head, cupping him close so even if he loses himself in you, he knows you’re here to catch him.

If it weren’t for you to let him know its time to get to bed, he’d fall asleep right in your lap, titty still hanging from his mouth with milk pouring over the sides of his cheeks.

It’s been weeks since he’s had such a fulfilling slumber.

The next few days weren’t any easier on his body or mind. But you were never complaining. 

The two of you started settling up right in bed for your nightly routine. Joel resting his head in your lap, letting the milk just fall right onto his tongue thanks to gravity. He’d drink until he was practically snoring. Then you’d stroke his face soothingly, letting him sleep like that for hours until the morning. 

All the guys talked about going home to their wives or girlfriends to unwind. Have dinner. Cuddle. 

He’d wake, shifting your sleeping body into a more comfortable position, laid back while he hungrily undoes your shirt again and starts drinking his breakfast straight from your boobs.

When he’s halfway through the day, he sits in his trailer at the site, wishing you could visit him for lunch. He’d lock everyone out, pull the shades, set you on his lap, and suckle your breasts for his midday snack. He wouldn’t be able to let you go though, grumbling into your chest and wrapping his arms protectively around you like a child unwilling to let go of his mommy.

He does all three with you at the same time, putting him at ease and helping him sleep like the beautiful, caring, nurturing wife you’ve always been.

He hopes he can put another baby in you soon so that people don’t keep wondering why your breasts are still so plump full of milk despite both your kids already being well off breastfeeding… 

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Say my Name, As if it’s Drowning in the Tide - Jayce x Reader (Chapter 1)

Summary: But Jayce is weak. So unbelievably weak. And the voice of temptation in the back of his mind insists you will never want him the same way he does you. It’s cowardly, and it’s spineless, and it goes against everything he’s ever been taught to value. Yet none of it seems to matter when he looks at you, bare in front of him, hair wet and sticking to your skin in heavy curls like a siren in the stormy sea. He’d sell his soul if it meant having you, and in more ways than one, he is.

Pairing: Jayce x Reader Modern AU, one-sided Viktor x Reader

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Explicit

Tags: Hate Sex, Emotional Roleplay, One-sided Attraction, Grinding, Dry-Humping, Premature Ejaculation, Coming Untouched, Switch!Jayce, Rough Kissing, Biting, Shower Sex, Angst, One Bed

Notes: I love my pathetic son Jayce, so I needed to make him just a bit wetter and sadder for… reasons. This is a two-parter, because it was looking too heavy as a one-shot and the second part still needs a bit more attention. I need to stop having too many multi-chapter projects at the same time before I go insane. Anyway, enjoy ❤️!!

You tap your fingers on the wooden countertop, trying to remain calm despite the growing pressure inside your skull.

“And you're sure there's not a single other room left ?” you ask with a tense smile, your teeth grinding against each other almost audibly.

The receptionist gives you yet another blank stare. She's hardly older than seventeen, probably helping out her parent's business, and clearly not paid enough to care about whether or not you stay or go.

“No, ma'am, there are no other rooms available for the duration of your stay,” she repeats robotically. It's as if you've been stuck in the same dialogue tree for half an hour with a badly programmed NPC. “We're a family-owned business, and we only have ten rooms available at once. Your reservation was for a single bedroom, not two.”

The exaggerated sound of her slowly chewing gum is driving you insane. “She's just doing her job’, you have to remind yourself. It's not her fault, you know that; plus, if there's anybody to blame, it's Jayce.

You turn towards the culprit in question, large shoulders slightly slumped and eyes escaping your glare. Pathetic.

“Seriously, Jayce?” you state in disbelief. “I asked you to do one thing for the trip.”

Jayce visibly takes offence to that, raising one stupidly large hand in objection:

“That's not fair, I was also taking care of bringing the prototype!”

“And I signed us up to the conference,” you hiss back. “I prepared our lecture. I got our bus tickets here and back. I made our itinerary for the whole three days. I even wrote down where we could go to bring back souvenirs for Sky and Viktor!”

You point an accusing finger at him, tapping it against his chest:

“The only thing I wanted you to take care of was the fucking motel. And you couldn't even do that right!”

He throws up both hands in exasperation, rolling his eyes. If there wasn't a minor in the same room, you'd have no qualms about punching him.

“Fine, alright, I messed up, what do you want me to say? ‘I'm sorry I'm such an idiot'?”

You exhale in frustration, throwing him one last resentful look before turning back to the receptionist: “Yeah, that would be a good start”, you scoff under your breath.

He makes a dramatic groan of annoyance behind you, like this entire situation isn't his fault.

The Academy barely gives you enough budget to attend two national mechanical engineering conferences a year. You had originally planned to go to this one with Viktor, specifically because of its location: nice and remote, the air fresh and relaxing, the few roads leading to the major cities surrounded by millennial trees and mountain peaks. The perfect place for a spark of romance to ignite between the two of you.

Unfortunately, Viktor had already scheduled a weekend seminar on the exact same date as the conference. Sky, your fourth and youngest lab partner, wasn't equipped enough to help you present all the complex features of the university's mechanical arm project. Only one other person could.

Jayce fucking Talis, and his magical ability to never do anything right.

“We'll just get our money back and find another place to crash,” he argues, walking up next to you to the counter, resting his weight against it; it creaks disapprovingly. “It doesn't have to be a whole thing.”

“I'm sorry sir,” the teen flatly interjects, still smacking the gum between her brace-clad teeth. Squish, squish. “But we require cancellations to be made 24 hours prior to the reservation. We cannot reimburse you as per the politics you have agreed to on our website.”

You'd probably get more interactive answers from a chatbot. Jayce kneads the lines on his forehead, his practiced megawatt smile starting to crack from fatigue. The girl stares at him with neither sympathy nor sadness; she brings her lips together to form a small pink bubble, letting it burst after a few seconds. Pop.

“Okay, you know what,” Jayce sighs in defeat, “I'll pay for our rooms somewhere else. It's on me. As an apology.”

This would be an excellent time to not subtly sneak in a remark on how he's always using his parent's money to get himself out of the messes he's created, but the teen speaks up again before you get a chance to:

“Sir,” she adds with her irritatingly nasal voice. “You should know the only other motel in the area only accepts new reservations until 9 pm.”

She nods pointedly towards an old grandfather clock on the wall, and the two of you look at it in sync: it's 9:06.

Now you're genuinely hesitating between strangling her or Jayce.

“You really know how to make a guy feel better, huh?” Jayce attempts with a weak laugh, the plastic smile crumbling a little further.

She only gives him a vacant gaze.

Your legs are aching from the long ride in the overcrowded bus, and the arduous walk to the motel with half the disassembled prototype on your back. You've been dreaming of laying down on a bed for the last three hours, and even if another inn was open nearby, you doubt you'd have the will to carry everything there.

“I don't care anymore,” you sigh, massaging the side of your temple to relieve some of the built-up tension. “I'm exhausted, and we need to rest if we want to be any good tomorrow morning. We'll just figure it out upstairs.”

Jayce makes a non-committal sound of agreement; if you had more energy, you'd angrily ask him if he has any better ideas he'd like to share. But you don't, so you just focus back on the unexcited receptionist. Ironically enough, the letters on her cropped shirt spell ‘GOOD VIBES ONLY’.

“We'll take the room,” you conclude, worn out.

The teen barely blinks as she inputs something into her old computer, the vintage monitor buzzing unpleasantly before she hands you two scratched keycards mechanically.

“Room 207. We hope you’ll enjoy your stay at Grizzly Country Motel,” she deadpans.

You mumble a thank you, but she either doesn't hear or chooses to ignore it in favour of going back to her cell phone, like your entire interaction had been nothing more than chasing away a couple of flies.

Jayce at least has the decency to grab both your luggage and his before you both head towards the stairs; if he’s got all those muscles, he might as well put them to use. You feel a pang of annoyance at how easily he carries the bags that you struggled to hold the entire day.

“Don't you think it's weird when they say ‘we’?” he mumbles pensively as you go up the stairway. “It's like everyone who works at a hotel is in a hivemind.”

You can't even find the will to look back and glare at him.

“No, Talis, I was actually thinking about how I'd fix all the problems you've created,” you reply drily.

You reach the second floor, knees buckling. Room 201, 202, 203…

“You'll just take half the bed and I'll take the other half,” Jayce pipes up from behind you, grunting as he pulls the last bag up. “We'll put a pillow in the middle. It'll be like nothing even happened.”

Oh, to be in the mind of Jayce Talis, where the universe is so fucking simple and accountability is a myth.

You hate how he always has an answer for everything, like it’s all so easy for him. You've fought hard to reach this point — to earn your place in the Academy, to be seen as a true scientist, breaking through barriers in a field where women remain the minority. It’s taken blood, sweat, and tears, years of effort that people like Viktor and Sky understand and respect.

Room 204, 205, 206…

But for Jayce Talis, it’s all sunshine, rainbows, and candy-colored skies. His family owns one of the largest metallurgy companies in the country, and has stocks invested in some of the biggest steel producers on the globe. He’s never had to work a single day in his life to put himself through school, never had to sacrifice anything for his dreams. You don’t think there’s a single thing he’s ever actually had to put effort in: he barely studies and still aces all his classes, hardly puts any care into his appearance, yet always looks like he’s out of the cover of the Times’ 50 Most Desirable Men. It’s infuriating to an unspeakable degree.

Room 207.

You tap one of the keycards on the handle, letting out a small sigh of relief when the mechanism beeps joyfully. Today hasn't been ideal, but at least, you're only a few feet away from a soft, comfortable bed.

You open the door, walking in with little decorum. It's small and bare, as you expected: a single window dulled by years of exposure, a box TV taken straight from the nineties, a dingy light fixture barely illuminating a greyed-out wallpaper of a forest scene, and…

“Talis,” you pause. He almost bumps into your back, fumbling with the bags in his arms.

“What?” he asks in confusion, peering over your shoulder. “Oh,” he simply says when he sees the issue.

“Talis,” you repeat slowly, trying to maintain your tone even, despite how badly you want to scream. “This is a single bed.”

Indeed, not only is there only one bed, it's evidently sized for a single person. It's ridiculously tiny. It doesn't take a genius to see that with someone of Jayce's stature, you'd have to practically sleep on top of him if you wanted to share the bed.

“Wait, I swear I asked for doubles for both of us-” he protests immediately.

“It's fine,” you cut him off, despite it being the exact opposite. The headache is getting worse, and you don't feel like arguing with him any more than you already have. “I'll take the bed tonight, and you take the floor, and we alternate tomorrow.”

Jayce puts all the bags down on the carpeted floor, visibly dejected.

“Again, I'm really sorry about this,” he mumbles, and even though you can tell it's genuine, it doesn't make you feel any better. Every ambigious prejudice you might have had against him has just confirmed itself: he’s a spoiled mama’s boy, who isn’t able to navigate the real world alone, and who’ll simply cry when he messes up things for everyone else.

“Whatever,” you grumble, sitting tiredly on the edge of the puny bed that groans painfully under your weight; it doesn't even have the decency to be comfortable. “Just means I'll have to take care of everything if we ever do symposium together again.”

He looks like a scolded puppy, unmoving, eyes avoidant, his large frame blocking the doorway. Jayce is extremely talented at making people pity him, with his huge citrine eyes and perfectly rosy cheeks. It almost makes you hesitate before adding the next words, but bitterness takes the upper hand: “This is the kind of mistake Viktor never makes.”

He doesn't reply.

You can tell that hurt him just as much as you intended with the way his body slightly curves inwards, his fits visibly clenching inside his pockets. Well, good. He's old and smart enough to know actions have consequences. He's supposed to be your partner, not a child you're babysitting.

“I'm…gonna go take a shower,” he hesitantly adds after a few tense seconds. “I'm still sweaty from the bus ride. Is that… okay with you?”

You shrug with disinterest; you know you’re just being petty now, but thinking of everything that could have been, had it been Viktor on this trip and not him, is leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“Fine by me. I'll take mine right after.”

He waits a moment, like he's expecting you to add something else; maybe extend the olive branch. When you don't provide, he sighs, making his way to the bathroom door and closing it behind him.

You let your body fall back on the mattress with a heavy ‘oomph’. It's not as uncomfortable as it first seemed; it's firm, but the covers are soft, and the single pillow feels nicely fluffed. A couple might actually be pretty cozy in this bed, one body on top of the other, their libs entangled lovingly. It could have been you and Viktor.

Viktor.

Viktor, and his honey-coloured eyes. Viktor, and his teasing smile that makes your heart skip a beat. Viktor, and the way his long fingers twirl in his chestnut hair when he's focused, the way he absentmindedly licks his bottom lip when he's lost in thought. Viktor, and-

“Hey, um,” Jayce's booming voice from the other room interrupts your reverie. “C'mere for a sec?”

You groan loudly, squeezing your eyes shut. Maybe if you pretend he isn't there, he'll disappear all on his own.

“No, seriously,” he insists.

No luck. You get up lethargically, cursing the man under your breath.

“Left side with the red is hot, right side with the blue is cold, Talis,” you ironize. You open the door to the bathroom to see him standing in front of the shower door, thankfully still fully clothed. “Do you need help opening the shampoo bottle, too?”

He glares back at you in annoyance:

“Fuck off. Look.”

He nods towards a paper sign you hadn't noticed tapped on the glass panel, amateurishly plastified with a clear file folder.

[PLEASE DO NOT USE THE SHOWER MORE THAN ONCE A DAY. 10 MINUTES OF HOT WATER PER ROOM]

Well, you were wrong. Jayce Talis isn't just a forgetful idiot with bad luck.

He's a fucking curse.

“The room and the bed, I could forgive,” you start, fuming. But the shower?!”

“How was I supposed to know?!” he yells back melodramatically. “You told me to find something cheap to not go over budget!”

You shove him in frustration, only getting more annoyed when it doesn't make his stupidly huge body move a single inch:

“I didn't mean you should book a fucking dumpster!”

A loud, pointed knock echoing from beyond the bathroom wall silences you both.

Delightful. The neighbours can hear everything.

You move a step away from Jayce, the width of the bathroom not allowing much in terms of distancing.

“Sorry,” you mumble under your breath. You aren’t, but it's that or getting kicked out of the only open motel in miles for a noise complaint. “Yelling isn't gonna lead us anywhere. You can take five minutes, and I'll take the other five. It's gonna be short, but that's probably the best we can do.”

He at least has the decency to look appreciative, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“I can give you the whole ten minutes, to apologize. This is my fault,” he admits. It’s always like this with him, as if his never-ending self-pity cleanses him of any possible wrongdoing. You despise that.

“And have you stink up the whole place smelling like a football locker room? No way,” you scrunch up your nose. Just by sharing a workspace with him, you know Jayce has the hygiene skills of a teenage boy who thinks Axe body spray and cologne make sweat magically vanish; the sheer power of the unholy combination would keep you awake all night.

“Or…” Jayce trails on for a few uncharacteristically long seconds. He's usually more the type to say things before reflecting on them, but he's pinching his lips tightly, clearly hesitant about what he's going to add next. “…We could share the shower?”

You look at him with an expression frozen between incomprehension and disgust: “What?”

“I mean, it's big enough for two people to stand without touching,” he quickly justifies, raising his hands innocently. “I could take the flexible hose, and you'd just go under the showerhead. That way we'd both get ten minutes!”

He's using the overly excited voice he takes on whenever he's giving someone his sales pitch for a new, stupid idea he's had. It might work wonders on most, but you know better than to fall for it.

“So you're that desperate to see me naked?” you sneer.

“I'm trying to be helpful here!” he complains.

If you're being honest, it's not that bad of an idea. The shower is small in width, but it's quite long, making it a very viable option for two people to use at once. If you manoeuver everything right, it'll almost be like you're taking a long, nice ten-minute shower on your own.

“Fine,” you capitulate, making sure to enunciate the word painfully slowly so he knows you're not doing it out of the kindness of your heart. “But if you tell anyone this happened, especially Viktor, I'm cutting off your balls and using them to-”

“Yeah, got it, wouldn't want Viktor to think you like me,” he taunts mockingly, puckering his lips in a false kiss at the other man's name.

It's the first time you've agreed to an idea from Jayce, and you're already regretting it.

“Just shut up and get in the fucking shower,” you spit out, going back to the main room without sparing him another look. “Face the wall and call me when you're done. There’s no reason for this to be weird.”

—

He’s hard.

Very obviously and undeniably hard.

Jayce has been splashing his face with cold water for the last few minutes, to no avail. He's tried every technique he can possibly think of: running in place, breathing exercises, imagining his abuelita naked, nothing is working.

The only thing he can visualize is your body, completely bare in that shower, only a few inches away from his. The water pouring down from your hair to your shoulders, to your breasts, and then alongside the curves of your thighs, and your ass-

“Shut up,” he mumbles to himself in the empty bathroom.

It's not a secret to anyone that Jayce likes you. Neither is it a secret that you're utterly uninterested and only have eyes for Viktor, except perhaps for Viktor himself. It's kind of unfair how two-thirds of Viktor's lab partners are in love with him. He'd be lying if he said he didn't get it, and that his eyes never lingered on that little mole above Viktor's lip for longer than they should have. But damn it, he wants you. He wants you to want him. Is that such an unfair thing to ask for?

You've got so much fight, so much fire in you, and he gets dizzy off the smouldering look in your eyes whenever you disagree with him. And disagree, you do: he wants to use lithium batteries, you want to use sodium. He wants to focus on reducing energy intake for the prototype, you want to focus on adding new components to it. He offers to order pizza for the group after a long day of work, you'll hear of nothing but sushi.

It drives him insane, but less in a way that makes him despise you, and more in one that makes him angrily rub his cock raw every night at the thought of that angry pout on your lips.

“-ayce! You alive in there?” comes your voice from the other room. He groans in frustration. This is a spectacular disaster in the making, and he's sitting front and center for it.

He's made his own bed and now he has to lie in it.

“You can come in!” he yells back with a noticeable crack in his voice. Not a great start.

His heart skips a beat when he hears the door creak open and close. The rustling of clothes being taken off one by one, the sound of pants dropping on the tile floor, and the unmistakable click of a bra being unhooked.

The door to the shower slides, and he feels you enter the confined space. It's ridiculous how close you are to him; he can smell the sweat off your skin, the faded scent of your perfume. His cock gives a small twitch and he glares down at it in betrayal. ‘Not now!’

You don't say a word as you turn on the faucet, the old plumbing in the walls hissing slightly before water starts to pour down on the both of you. He's not usually one for the cold, but it's refreshing, washing away the feeling of stickiness on his skin. He hums under his breath in delight; maybe it'll actually just be an awkward but relaxing shower, in the end.

The temperature rises slowly but surely, from cool to tepid, tepid to lukewarm, and then… it stops. He waits a few more seconds, throwing a discreet glance behind him to find you haven't fully turned the faucet on the hot side.

“Could you… put it warmer?” he asks, clearing his throat.

“It's plenty warm enough as is,” you reply flatly.

Now you're lying just to go against him; it's barely any warmer than if he was bathing outside in the lake.

“Why would you even fight for the hot water if you're not gonna use it?” he mumbles.

You moan dramatically in complaint: “Fine, princess, I'll bump it up.”

He sees your hand reach for the faucet, grab it… and bring it less than a centimetre closer to the warm side.

“Seriously?” he asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, seriously, now start washing your greasy hair before there's no hot water left at all,” you scold him, like he's nothing more than a snivelling toddler, and not a man twice your size.

Alright, enough is enough.

“What are you-” you protest at his sudden movement, his bicep pressing up against your shoulder.

“I'm turning the hot water on so I don't die in here,” he snaps back, trying to get a feel for the faucet while still looking away from you for the sake of modesty.

“Absolutely not, stay on your side!” you admonish him angrily. You attempt to push him back, pointedly refusing to look in his direction as you blindly slap his arm away. “Wait, Jayce-”

It happens too fast for either of you to figure out what's happening. One minute you're back to back, a respectable distance from one another, and the next you've both slipped, his arms boxing you into the narrow side of the shower with your legs bumping together.

Your eyes are locked into his for a few long, painful seconds. Neither of you are moving. You're trapped in a precarious game of jenga, where you can't even see which parts can safely be removed without you collapsing on each other.

“Whatever you do,” you exhale slowly. “Don't look down.”

You visibly regret your words as soon as you say them; you must have forgotten it’s Jayce you’re talking to.

He immediately looks down.

You put an arm up over your chest with an indignant yelp, and he quickly defends himself:

“Why would you tell me to not look down? That's like saying ‘Don't think of an elephant’!”

You're staying silent, your lips into a tight line, but he's certain you're thinking of an elephant right now. He smiles boastfully and you shoot him a deadly glare, before looking away to the side. It's the first time he's ever seen that awkward little blush on your cheeks without the conversation being about Viktor. That's a win in his book.

“It's fine,” you repeat once more like a broken record, and it’s definitely more meant to reassure yourself than to keep up a pleasant conversation with him. “I'll just… squish back against the wall while you close your eyes, and I'll direct you back to the other side. No problem.”

You sound less convinced than he's ever heard you before. He must have succeeded in turning the faucet to the side during the whole debacle, because the water has grown noticeably warmer, clouds of steam starting to form in the air. The atmosphere inside the shower is shifting ever so slightly.

He doesn't want to move.

He doesn't want to close his eyes.

The colour of your cheeks has grown darker from the heat, your lips slightly parted around every audible respiration.

“Would you wanna stay like this… if it was with Viktor?” he asks breathlessly.

You look back at him with genuine confusion, and he's honestly just as surprised as you are.

“What?”

“I…” It's getting harder to think. All his blood is rushing south, leaving him dangerously light-headed. What is he saying? “I… asked if you'd stay like this if it wasn't me in the shower. If it was Viktor.”

Your frown deepens. Your eyebrows always do this cute little thing where one furrows just slightly more than the other, but he's never gotten to observe it from this close. He lets his thoughts travel into dangerous territory. Do you wear that same expression when you're on your knees, sucking some other guy off? Would you look like that for Viktor?

“I don't see how that's relevant,” you retort harshly, but your gaze is elusive. You can't hide from him, not when his face is merely inches away from yours.

“Humor me,” he requests again.

“Fine, yeah, I would! Are you happy now?” you snap, eyes locking back into his with fiery resentment.

You're embarrassed.

He's never seen you rattled like this before. The energy in the shower is electric, now, coursing through his veins like a drug. ‘There will never be another moment like this’, the voice in the back of his head provides, syrupy sweet. It’s without a doubt the worst idea he’s ever had in his life, but he can’t stop the words from pouring out of his mouth.

“I could show you what he's into,” he almost whispers, the deafening sound of water hitting the ceramic flooring almost too loud for him to hear himself.

He knows that you've heard him with the way your eyes widen, your breath hitching in your throat.

“I mean, guys, we talk,” he explains, the words now coming out of him like the rambles of a madman. He’s in too deep to back out: it’s sink or swim. “About the stuff we like, the stuff we dream about. I could tell you what he's told me, and you can practice. On me.”

An eternity passes before you speak again, mouth just barely agape. But you're not yelling at him. You're not slapping him in the face. In fact, you're not even frowning; the expression you’re wearing is oddly vulnerable and open, like you're seeing him in a different light than you ever have before.

“You're fucking gross, Talis,” you breathe out slowly. “You really think I'm that easy?”

This*,* whatever this is, is so fragile he’s scared of shattering it by being too loud. Like he’s talking to a wild animal.

“I don't,” he promises in a low voice. “But I think you're smart, and dedicated, and you wouldn't let an opportunity to know something so personal about Viktor pass you by.”

The steam has fully blurred the glass panels around the both of you, and it feels like you're inside one of those snow globes Jayce's mother used to bring back for him from her travels when he was a kid. It's weirdly ethereal, warm and cold, frozen out of any known space and time. He’s never heard you stay silent this long, and the anticipation makes his throat burn.

“Fine,” you finally say. “But if you tell anyone-”

“Yeah I know, you'll cut my balls off,” he lets out with a small laugh, slightly delirious. He's half convinced he's dreaming. “Are we good?”

You nod without a word, shifting your head to the side slightly to avoid his gaze. He hesitantly brings a hand to your chin, holding it like you're made of glass. You don't recoil at his touch, so he gently presses it upwards, making you look at him again.

“Viktor likes it when people kiss him softly,” he smiles shyly, his heart beating as loudly in his chest as it did for his very first kiss. It’s like he’s watching a movie, like none of it is truly real. He closes the gap between the two of you slowly, waiting for you to pull away; but you don't. Your lips meet his, and it's everything he could have ever wanted.

You taste of rainwater and cherry chapstick. You’re soft in the way described by jazzy love songs, smooth and electric, a puzzle piece that just feels so unbelievably right. He wants to wrap his arms around you, hold you so tight this never has to come to an end, leave marks on your skin no shower could ever get rid of.

But he doesn't. He can't.

This is a fantasy that’s only animated by mutual gain. It’s not the climax of a romance film where the hero finally gets to kiss the heroine under the rain.

But God, does he want to pretend it is.

You pull away first, and he doesn't miss it: the millisecond where your eyes open and you look at him like he's the one you want to be kissing. The almost imperceptible moment where you're still imagining you're kissing Viktor and not him, where your irises shine brightly with so much happiness and love.

But it's already gone, like it never even happened, and you quickly wipe your lips with the back of your hand. You’re not in a beautiful London street amid a gentle downpour with your soulmate: you’re in a cramped shower in a motel, with a guy you don’t even vaguely care for.

“You should shave your stubble. It's annoying,” you mumble.

‘Viktor doesn't have one’, the sentence heavily implies. It stings, but he's not about to back off just from that either. Not when he's been given a chance like this.

“Viktor also likes it when kissing is a bit of a fight,” he adds, sounding much too eager and desperate for his own liking. “Biting, tugging hair, that kind of stuff.”

It's not a lie, per se; he's only ever seen Viktor kiss someone once, when they were undergrads. It was an end-of-semester party, and Viktor had had way too many vodka red bulls for a man of his stature and health. Jayce had found him on a couch, limbs entangled with a stranger who seemed equally as drunk, and absolutely devouring their face off.

Viktor had asked him to never let him near caffeinated cocktails again the next morning.

You look slightly skeptical, analyzing him for any signs of deception; it looks as though you find none, because you're the one who initiates this time, and there you are, the fiery woman he's fallen head over heels for.

You're going to war on him, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip, savagely shoving your tongue in his mouth, one hand entangled in the hair at the back of his head while the other ferociously holds his throat in place, nails digging into his heartbeat. He responds eagerly, letting you mistreat him, encouraging you with muffled groans.

It hurts, and he wants it to never end. He can taste blood in his mouth, the metallic tinge making him dizzy, and he's so hard he could cum if you just touched his dick with a finger. He whines pathetically when you break the kiss for air, disoriented, a strand of saliva connecting you both still.

“A-aouch,” he can only manage to say jokingly.

You lean back against the tile wall, slightly breathless; you wipe away drops of red on your lip, smudging them down towards your chin, the look of a feral animal in your pupils. He feels his already rock-hard cock twitch. Hot.

“This is about what Viktor likes, not what you like. Toughen up, Talis,” you spit back.

Before he has time to formulate a reply, you're back on him, and now he's incapable of stopping himself from humping your thigh like an animal. You don't refuse him or push him away, even mercifully angelling your hip to the side to give him easier access. There's nothing but you, all over him, inside of him, tearing him apart and putting him back together. It's absolutely pathetic, and he knows it, but he can feel his release arriving in the pit of his stomach. He's wanted this for so long, there's just no way to delay it anymore.

It only takes a few more seconds before his orgasm hits him hard, the wave of pleasure making his whole body still as a plank, while you're still sucking harshly the vein on the side of his neck. He cries out once, broken and wanton, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice.

He comes down from the high in time to see the last of his cum painting your hip white before it gets washed away with the water. You detach yourself from him unceremoniously, putting some distance between your bodies with a frown.

“Did you just…?”

There's no room for pretending here. He's just had one of the most mind-blowing orgasms of his life from nothing but a fucking kiss from you. It's like he's a teenager all over again, face redder than a tomato and eyes escaping yours guiltily.

“You came. You came by just making out with me,” you repeat, visibly caught halfway between incredulity and mockery.

“I just haven't gotten laid in a while, that's it!” he justifies vehemently. He needs to change the topic quickly, or you’ll never let him live this down. “I'm always busy at the lab doing the paperwork you always skip out on!”

That thankfully seems to take your attention away from his premature accident; he's never been so grateful for your short temper.

“Seriously? You’re going to bring that up right now?” you bark, shoving him in the chest angrily.

He can still turn this around. He might not have much control over his first release, today ridiculously so, but he's been blessed with excellent stamina and a very short recovery period. Jayce is good at selling himself with speeches, and even though you're usually immune to anything that comes out of his mouth, he's willing to cheat this once and use the one chink in your armour he knows about.

“Do you want to know what Viktor likes or not? Because I haven't told you anything about what he wants in bed,” he tempts you in a tone of indifference.

Your silence speaks volumes; he's got you again. Yes, it's incredibly manipulative, and when this is over he's going to spend hours turning over in his bed and despising himself. He’s always believed in doing things the fair way, the right way, and that one day he’d manage to lower your defences and etch a place into your heart all of his own merits.

But Jayce is weak. So unbelievably weak. And the voice of temptation in the back of his mind insists you will never want him the same way he does you. It’s cowardly, and it’s spineless, and it goes against everything he’s ever been taught to value. Yet none of it seems to matter when he looks at you, bare in front of him, hair wet and sticking to your skin in heavy curls like a siren in the stormy sea. He’d sell his soul if it meant having you, and in more ways than one, he is.

What kind of man does that make him?

That’s a thought he’ll just have to keep for later.

Taglist Darlings: @soniiyi , @mischievous-piltovan, @urfavlarry , @luv-urself-first, @girlidkthinkofsmth , @starflesh-moth

[froggibus]

Camping Headcanons - Batboys + Wally West

Includes: Dick Grayson x gn! reader, Jason Todd x gn! reader, Tim Drake x gn! reader, Wally West x gn! reader

Genre: fluff, mild crack

Summary: spend a weekend away from the city camping with your boyfriend

CW: batboys have peak survival skills, Wally is very Wally, lots of classic camping fun

this is part of my Summer Suntacular event, come check it out!

Dick Grayson:

prefers to camp somewhere off the grid

loves traditional camping and is not at all opposed to just…sleeping on the floor of a tent

can almost definitely set up a tent in two seconds flat—even the jumbo ones that are supposed to take two people to set up

definitely helps that he’s flexible 

if there was a medal for best at camping, he’d probably win it

it's almost annoying how on point his survival instincts are

he can spearfish and does it just to show off

can cook pretty much anything over a fire but if it were up to him he’d just eat soup, burgers & hotdogs the whole weekend

packs 12 pairs of underwear for a weekend of camping

also has insane packing skills, like he could pack 2 weeks worth of supplies in one backpack

even if its not sunny, he WILL somehow tan just from being outside

Jason Todd:

also likes camping off the grid

unlike Dick, he probably prefers sleeping in a trailer or a cabin if he can help it

It’s not that he’s against sleeping in a tent or anything 

but he’s spent so much time sleeping on the hard ground/freezing his ass off that if he can afford the extra comfort, he’ll spring for it

so much more relaxed when you’re camping—it’s almost like he’s a different person

brings about a dozen books to read for like, three days of camping

if you weren’t with him he’d probably read them all too

even if you’re staying in a place with a stove, he INSISTS on cooking stuff over the campfire

a really good campfire cook too—he’ll make you some insane salmon & the most golden toasty s'mores for dessert

dork ass loves telling you scary ghost stories with a flashlight under his chin and everything

all so that you’ll cuddle closer to him that night

lets you wear his comfy clothes and his jacket if it’s cold outside and claims he ‘doesn’t get cold’

Tim Drake:

hard to convince him to leave Gotham for the weekend (mr weight-of-the-world-on-his-shoulders)

threaten to go camping by yourself and suddenly he’ll never leave your side

only camped at fancy resorts/nice cabins before Bruce

really enjoys being off the grid and being self sustaining though

loves those “cooking in nature” tiktoks and probably wants to try them for himself

doesn’t care where he sleeps as long as it has walls—but for you, he’ll get the warmest, comfiest tent or cabin possible

is weirdly prepared for almost any situation AND knows all of your cravings before you even have them

“I really wish we had strawberry marshmallows to make smores with”

“check my green backpack”

brings lots of different card games and WILL beat you at all of them before the trip is over

bring your own secret deck of Uno and watch him have a meltdown wondering how you could possibly have so many +4s

somehow knows exactly what went down with everyone while you were away

Wally West:

he’s like a kid again (as if he ever grew up let’s be fr) 

already has muscle pains from running around so much so at the very least he’s getting the comfiest air mattress ever

but most likely he’ll want to stay in a cozy cabin way off the grid 

with him, no campsite is too far or too remote

cannot cook for shit but will grill you the best burgers and hot dogs ever 

cannot roast s’mores for shit either 

they WILL catch fire and be completely crispy 

offer him one of yours PLEASE

“nah babe, I just really like them like this” 

liar. 

loves loves LOVES campfire cuddles and uses every reason under the sun to cozy up with you

tries to tell scary stories (that he stole from Dick who stole them from Bruce) but ends up freaking both of you out

has to do at least one (1) vigorous activity every day or he’ll be bouncing off the walls all night

has a secret never ending stash of candy on him & shares them with you

packs exactly two pairs of underwear for the entire weekend & is completely unprepared 

however if you forget or need anything else it is a CRIME and he will go get it for you 

manages to stretch a three day camping trip into a week

Summer Suntacular | Masterlist | DC Masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[charleszleclerc]

Monaco would be a night to remember

July 2024

word count: 1.6k

warnings: pregnancy, vomiting, fluff

It had been six weeks since the Monaco grand prix. Six weeks since Charles drove so well that he finished in P1. Evelyn can still picture the happiness radiating off of Charles her long term boyfriend. Its something she’ll never be able to forget from the cheers to the podium to the eventful night of partying to celebrate. That’s a night she will never forget it is safe to say they didn’t sleep that night. Even when the party finished Charles and Evelyn continued it in their hotel room.

Now six weeks on Evelyn is vomiting into the toilet for the third time this week. She was afraid she might be coming down with something, which is rare because Evelyn very rarely gets sick.  It was a good thing she didn’t get sick until Charles left for the Silverstone grand prix because she new full well that if she had been sick around him, it would end up throwing him off balance for the race weekend. She wasn’t going to the Silverstone race because she has a work event on Saturday that she can’t miss. It was only Friday, but she knew that if the vomiting persisted for the remainder of the weekend, she’d have to go see a doctor on Monday. Either way as the day went on Evelyn started to feel a bit better so she decided to meet her close friend Eloise for lunch.

They had decided to meet at a small little café in the middle of Monaco which both Evelyn and Eloise loved and visited frequently. Still feeling a bit off Evelyn ordered something very small off of the menu and once she got it she just continued to push it around the plate. She’s pretty sure it’s some of the smells of the food they just seem to be twisting her stomach. Eloise had thought it was very odd her friend wasn’t eating considering that she loves this café. Eloise couldn’t stay silent for much longer “hey, are you okay” “yeh why wouldn’t I be” Evelyn replied questioningly. “its just firstly you barely ordered anything and now that the food has come you’ve barely touched it” Eloise said hesitantly. So, Evelyn proceeded to tell how for the last three days she’d been vomiting mainly in the mornings, but it had also occurred at different times of the day. As she continued to tell Eloise about how she’d also been a lot more tired for the past couple of weeks and her aversion to certain smells, Eloise couldn’t help but blurt out “are you pregnant”. “no of course I’m not” Evelyn replied defensively. “well when was the last time you got your period because it really sounds like you could be pregnant” Eloise asked. “Eloise you know I’m on the pill so my periods are barely present but I can’t be pregnant” “its not like you and Charles don’t want children. The two of you never shut up about having your own kids” Eloise added. “Just drop it Eloise” “Okay I won’t say anything more”. The two of them finished their lunch and said their goodbyes.

Though that Friday night Evelyn could barely sleep with the idea of her possibly being pregnant. It wasn’t that she or Charles didn’t want to have a family, but she wasn’t sure if he wanted that right now. Don’t get her wrong she knew Charles would be happy they had talked about it so many times and they had added to their family with Leo but she also knew that Charles was constantly fighting to be world champion and while he could still race and be a good father, she knew Charles and she knew it would cross his mind that he wasn’t present enough. Though deep down even though she was worried she was also excited about the aspect she’s always dreamed about having children with Charles and she knew he’d be an amazing father and their children would be so proud of their dad and his racing.

As Saturday morning came, she was once again towering over the toilet vomiting. She knew she had to take the pregnancy test sitting in the back of the press even if it was only to ease the thoughts going overdrive in her head. So that’s where she found herself a couple minutes later sitting on the toilet seat processing her thoughts while waiting for the time to be up. A part of her now felt she’d be more upset if it came back negative but before she could think anything more about it the timer went off. She picked up the test to see two pink lines as clear as day. She was shocked. Tears of happiness immediately started to brim her eyes. She couldn’t believe she was pregnant, but she was so happy, in that moment there was no way Evelyn could describe how excited she was to become a mother and have a family with Charles. There was no way she was going to tell Charles over the phone and Charles wasn’t going to be home till Monday so she decided to go out and see what she could pick up to try and surprise him when he got back. While out she picked up a small box, some tissue paper, a pair of small booties, a digital test she was going to take once back at their apartment and some balloons.  She went to bed that night excited for the future.

On Sunday she spent the day watching the race while setting up her surprise for Charles. She baked some of his favourite cookies she knew he’d love. She couldn’t help but have some right now seems like the baby might also like their father’s favourite cookies. She placed the booties and the two pregnancy tests next to each other on top of the tissue paper in the box. She placed the box on their kitchen counter next to the balloons and a vase filled with flowers. Charles finished p14 in the race so Evelyn sent him a quick message knowing he’d be disappointed.

Then that night she brought Leo for a walk to try and ease her nerves. It wasn’t that she felt Charles would react negatively but rather she was an overthinker and she thought about people’s reactions to everything. Charles called her later that night which eased her nerves even more by just seeing him and being able to talk to him. Charles was amazing and she was so lucky to be with him he knew her inside out and she knew him the exact way she’s so happy to be having a family with him.

It was Monday Evelyn had once again woken up quite early to vomit and once she was awake, she knew she wouldn’t be getting back to sleep. Knowing Charles wouldn’t be back until ten or eleven o clock she brought Leo for a quick walk and then came back and had a smoothie to try and ease the nausea feeling. She was placing the cookies on the counter next to the box when she heard the door click. She took a seat on the other side of the counter facing the door. “mon coeur I’m home” Evelyn’s face lit up at the sight of Charles. “Charles I’m so happy to see you, I’m sorry about the race” she said embracing him. “it’s okay Evie there’s always the next one. You seem excited what’s up” he asked while embracing her back. Evelyn looks up at him with this huge grin on her face and leads him to the kitchen. “Surprise I got you something” she replied excitedly. “What’s all this” he asked looking at the box and the balloons. “wait you made my favourite cookies” he asked while giggling. Evelyn sat down in front of Charles at the counter. “I did but open the box first we can have cookies in a minute” she replied.

So that’s what Charles did he walked over and started to open the box. He once again noticed the huge grin on her face. It wasn’t unusual for Charles or Evelyn to get each other gifts so he wasn’t to surprised that she had got him something. Though once the box was opened and he noticed the little booties and the tests he was surprised. “Evie is this what I think it is” he asked her quietly while staring at the tests. All Evelyn could do was nod her head as they both made eye contact each of them could see the tears brimming in each other’s eyes. “Your pregnant” he asked excitedly picking up the little booties to expect them. “Yes, Charles I’m pregnant” she said while getting up off of the seat. “Are you happy” she asked as she reached him. Charles turned swiftly to catch her in an embrace. “Happy Evie of course I’m happy. Are you?” “Yes Charlie I am I can’t wait to have a baby with you” she said kissing him. “We are going to create the best family” he replied.

The couple spent that evening curled next to each other and Leo on the couch discussing all sorts of things about the baby and their future. Things such as Evelyn's first doctors appointment which she had scheduled for later that week. They were already talking about baby names and how they were going to tell their families. It was safe to say that they both were excited for the future and this baby. It’s also safe to say that all the cookies were gone by the end of the night.

Hii so here is my first fic post I'm so excited and I'm already in love with Charles and Evelyn. If you have any questions or requests just send them in

[blackhairedjjun]

alright i have an imagine scenario right now:

you're an employee at a jewelry company, nowhere near rich enough to buy the products you market. you're at your company's flagship store for the launch of its new jewelry line, and you've got none other than famous model choi yeonjun as its brand ambassador. he arrives with his hair slicked back, wearing a pristine white suit and sporting a few key pieces from the line; though he gives the cameras his best smoldering looks, you aren't particularly impressed. you've met enough rich assholes at your job to last you a lifetime, and yeonjun doesn't seem much different. you watch him pose for the photographers and chat with other guests for a few moments, but shift your mind back to work.

he talks to you exactly once, to ask where the bathroom is. at least he was polite to you, unlike a lot of the VIPs you've met.

the next day is a weekend and you spent it at the plant market, looking at freshly potted flowers about to bloom and seedlings of vegetables ready to be cared for. you might not be able to afford the fancy necklaces and rings that you sell, but at least you have the luxury of growing your own veggies and flowers in your tiny apartment balcony.

you were not expecting it to rain that day, but it does. it's a downpour crashing down from the sky, and though you consider running for it, you're also weighed down by two bags of plants in both hands. so you stand under one of the market tents next to a row of tomato plants, waiting for the rain to stop. it doesn't.

just then you feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to see a young man in a hoodie and cap, sunglasses perched on top of his head. he's carrying an oversized umbrella, large enough for two. "um, hi, excuse me," he says, stumbling over his words, "you were the employee at the jewelry store yesterday, right? do you want help? we can share my umbrella..." he glances down at your bags of plants, then back at you.

it takes a while for you to recognize him until it hits you: choi yeonjun. three things run through your mind at once: first, you're impressed that he managed to remember you when all you did was tell him where the bathroom is. second, you feel a pang of shame for assuming he's a rich asshole when he's making such a kind offer to you. and third, even in a worn-out black hoodie, he's still ridiculously handsome.

you step into the umbrella with him; you feel his fingers brush against yours as he takes one of your bags to carry. "thank you," you tell him. he smiles at you and butterflies erupt in your stomach.

it doesn't feel so bad to be wrong about him this time.

[mila-uchiha]

Best Friend's Older Brother ⁺◦ Itachi x fem!reader

a/n: hey guys... not sure if any of you even remember my blog but its been 2/3 years since i've written lol. new life new errything but my new bf is giving me so much inspo for smut it's insane (he's so hot) and so here we go... enjoy! this prompt tickled something in my brain xxx (also this is set in a modern au w no uchiha massacre where reader wants sasuke's older brother itachi and winds up in his bed,,, just read it [3 years in the making] lol trust its GOOD)

warnings: NSFW, don't feel to write the rest in lmao i haven't done this inna while but hella smut just sayin

word count: 5.6k (wtf?? ok i went overboard here and did not realise but i hope u enjoy LMAO)

You knew it was wrong. You knew there would be conversation, after conversation once you two were done with this. You knew everything would change. But you had wanted it more than you had ever wanted anything before.

A few days prior, your best friend Sasuke had let you and your friend group (if you can even call them friends) know about a "small birthday get together"- in his words- at his house that weekend. You wanted to be excited. You wanted to enjoy yourself. But there were multiple reasons why you felt like you wouldn't; the first being the shitty group of friends that you two shared. They weren't the nicest people nor did they take interest in you and you somehow always felt like an outsider when around them. It was only when you and Sasuke hung out alone did you really enjoy someone else's company. Unfortunately being friends with him meant being around these guys a lot, and that included this weekend for his birthday.

The second reason involved something more complicated: Itachi Uchiha, Sasuke's brother. You were- let's not use the word obsessed...- maybe a bit infatuated with him. It may seem like a good thing, to spend a night at the house where your crush lived, but seeing him hurt a little bit more inside every time, and I'll explain why.

Sasuke hadn't been your best friend since you two were kids- it had only been a few years since you met, and yet still, a few years was enough to develop the most enormous crush on his older brother- and of course Sasuke knew nothing. It started off very innocently, you knew nothing would ever happen, you knew he'd never want someone as young as you, and you simply found comfort and entertainment in keeping it to yourself- a silent crush... That was until last year.

You were different now. More mature. Emotionally and physically. You knew that you were capable of being with someone his age and you felt yourself growing older by the day, your interests expanding and your emotions as well. You talked more than usual at the dinner table with Sasuke's family about "intelligent" topics (or what you thought classified as intelligent). You tried to make your presence more known. You tried speaking to Itachi (occasionally) and yet every thing you did was met with a response that contained no more than a few words. And there was certainly never any reciprocation of question given to him that was directed back to you. Not only was he blunt, he was cold too, his voice lingering with iciness and a twang of unkindness, snarky comments occasionally slipping out.

Ultimately, it was useless, and that uselessness turned into pain. You didn't want to see him this weekend. It simply reminded you of what you wanted so badly, yet could never have and it had been three weeks since you had been to Sasuke's house, your feeling of isolation growing more and more. Until this weekend.

You walked up to Sasuke's house, hoping you could quickly sneak up to his room and wait for the rest of his friends to get there, but of course it was never that easy. This may sound like a cliche and joke, but it wasn't Sasuke's mom or dad that answered the door, it was Itachi, and when that door swung open and his brows furrowed upon inspection of who was at the door, you couldn't help but gulp and think this was all a mistake. You felt your heart sink and that horrible familiar feeling fill your chest again. You knew this would be a long night.

You both said your greetings (although his full of much less words than yours) and you stepped inside the house, faintly smelling his fragant smell- the best thing you had ever smelt in your life, although you didn't want to admit that in the moment.

It was awkward. He was cold, and weird and god you just wanted him so bad but of course once again you were left standing there uncomfortably. "Cmon y/n, think! Say something!", you thought to yourself and urged the confidence you had gained in the past year to enter once again as he shut the front door.

"So how's college? I haven't seen you in a few weeks." Finally, some words coming from you. He paused briefly, before answering, "It's fine, I thought you were here last week?"

Ouch. Clearly any attempt you had made to be noticed went unnoticed.

Before coming here, you knew he never paid attention to you (and when he did it wasn't very pleasant) so you thought there was no harm in specifically wearing something a bit "older", a bit more slutty. Your tits were highlighted and pushed up in this sleek, black, partially see-through lace top with a matching laced mini skirt alongside your knee high black boots. Your brown curls were left out and flowing, accompanied by a white headband that framed your face beautifully. You knew most guys your age would drool at the sight of you, but this wasn't most guys your age.

"Sasuke's upstairs", Itachi said roughly. "Yeah I know, I just-" You paused. You could see his eyes scanning your outfit, your body, up and down, his brows slowly furrowing at the sight. This is it! He's finally seeing me in a different light, you naively thought. That was until he opened his mouth.

"Why do you look like you're dressed for halloween?", he asked, a sense of judgment coming from his tone. You looked at him, confused, hurt. "Your outfit. You do realize you look like a nun right?". OH. fuck.

The stupid white headband you threw on with the all-black outfit made you slightly look like a nun, one that was standing there stupidly, looking- not only overdressed- but dressed for an occasion that was not tonight.

"Oh haha, I guess you're right. I do actually look like a nun..." You said quietly, your eyes trying to analyze his facial expression and read his thoughts.

"Yeah a slutty one- and not the good kind," and with that remark he scoffed, walking away as if he was bored with the conversation already.

A sluttly one. And not the good kind. You tried to walk up the stairs and head up to Sasuke's room but those words were repeating themselves in your head. As you opened the door and found Sasuke and two other friends sitting on his bed they all looked at you strangely. "Why are you dressed like that?". It was not going to be a good night.

The next few hours were filled with strange looks from the eyes of those dressed a bit more casually, weirdly sensual looks from some of his friends and mostly a lot of alcohol. You all were still in school but Sasuke's parents weren't exactly the strict type. Yours were however, and you had only ever been drunk once before this night- specifically for Sasuke's birthday last year. He was definitely not the best influence.

The drinking games and the shots were getting to be a bit too much for you as you felt yourself entering a state entitled "The most drunk I have even been.... why do I want more alcohol?". As teenagers do, a variety of games were played such as spin the bottle which involved you having to make out with some gross guy in the friend group and ultimately, strip poker- without the poker. You didn't manage much, however your top did come off, leaving your in your sleek black bra completely on display. You didn't really care though, as everyone else was half naked and now at least you could blend in a bit better without your raunchy, lacy top on.

Despite all the distractions happening in these two hours, you couldn't help but be hurt by everything that transpired downstairs upon your arrival. His tone, his words, I mean he practically laughed at you. You felt your heart sink the more you thought about it and as you found yourself getting more quiet and more drunk, you decided what better to do than head downstairs and give him a piece of your mind.

You had had it. The year of him making you feel like this. Like a younger brother's friend (which, yes, you were but come on, he didn't have to show it). The year of the rudeness and the way he ignored you in the times where you wished he didn't. You were about to head downstairs and tell him exactly how horrible he was. Except you didn't realize that you were in your bra.

As you reached the bottom step, you looked up to see Itachi walking towards the front door, heading past the steps with a few of his friends slowly following behind. "ITACH-", you couldn't even finish your sentence.

"Y/n what the hell are you doing? Why the fuck are you down here in your bra?" He grabbed your wrist tightly. "I'M COMing down HERe to tell you-", again no sentences finished. He spun you around and led you back up the stairs, his hands on either side of your lower back while he pushed and walked behind you. You only managed to produce thoughts for a second and in that second you almost seemed to sober up, his broad hands on your bare skin, the warmth and the feeling that filled you. It was short lived, though, the minute he removed them and guided you to his room. "What the fuck are you doing? My friends are downstairs and you're coming down in your bra?"

You entered his room, his smell evidently everywhere as you looked around at the familiar four walls. You had been there before when snooping around with Sasuke a few years ago, but of course Itachi didn't know that.

"So what? It's not that big of a deal", you slurred your words as he rummaged through his closet, as if he was in a rush. "Here" he tossed you a shirt. One of his shirts. "Put this on," he said as he looked at you with a slightly disgusted expression on his face.

"Why do I have to do anything you say? This is the most emotion you've ever showed me!" You shouted as he stood waiting for you to comply. He didn't respond.

"You know what, fine!" You reached for the waistline of your skirt. "I'm older now and if I want to walk around in my underwear I fucking can!" You started tugging your skirt down, partially revealing the lacy black underwear underneath but before you could fully drop your skirt to the floor, Itachi grabbed your wrists with both of his hands tightly.

"Y/n are you fucking serious? Don't fucking do that in my room or you wont be welcome in this house again." He said roughly in your ear. Ouch. His words were serious. His hands harshly let go your wrists as he added, "Put the shirt on and get the fuck out of my room please." He headed to the door and before he could open it you shouted back, "Where are you going?". He turned and looked back, the familiar icy blank stare facing you again. "To a party", and the door slammed shut.

The next few hours were filled with even more alcohol, to add to your already debilitated state. Sasuke and his friend's looked at you weirdly for wearing what was evidently Itachi's shirt, but nobody really questioned anything when you kept taking more shots of vodka, attempting to forget the embarrassment of a few hours ago.

As time went on, your enjoyment went down and so did your state of coherency. You could not shake the events of tonight, yet one thing you couldn't understand was why Itachi was so worried about you being downstairs in your bra in front of his friends? Surely that had nothing to do with him? Maybe he was embarrassed that one of his younger brother's friends was making an embarrassment of the family? Either way, whatever triggered his reaction surely wasn't prideful on your behalf.

It was now 1 am and you felt yourself slipping, unable to soberly process and function. You kept quiet for a bit, knowing Sasuke's friends wouldn't have cared if you were there or not and eventually decided it was time to get up and go find somewhere to sleep, possibly the couch. As you stumbled to open the door and nearly tripped on your way there, Sasuke knew you were completely out of your mind drunk and decided to help you walk, a concerned expression on his face.

"Are you alright, y/n? Do you feel to throw up?" You shook your head. No way were you doing that tonight. You knew you just needed to sleep. "Sleep- I just need to sleep."

"Okay, well you were going to sleep on my bed and I'd sleep in Itachi's room but I don't think these guys are leaving soon," He gestured to the open door in the hallway that lead to his room, a blur and haze of noise escaping it. "Ughhhh close the door, too loud!" you slurred and demanded. He laughed.

"Maybe you can just sleep in Itachi's room?" Your eyes suddenly opened wide. "Itachi??? No... No thank you I'll sleep on the floor." You suddenly plopped your drunken self on the floor of Sasuke's hallway. He laughed once more. "No, y/n, its fine. He's out at a party tonight and I doubt he'll be back- will probably spend the night by some girl as he usually does after parties."

Sigh. Probably spending the night by some girl huh?

You complied, finally, and managed to stumble into Itachi's room once more, still wearing his T-shirt and inhaling the scent of him that bounced off the walls. Before climbing into bed, you managed to at last take off the itchy, lace skirt and drop it to the ground alongside your bra and your underwear, remaining in nothing but Itachi's shirt. It may seem a bit strange, but this is how you slept. 'Fully breathable' you called it.

It didn't take long before you were under his duvet, wrapped up in his scent and warmth, and drifted off to sleep while the room slowly spinned.

By this point you were fast asleep. Hours and hours passed as you framed peaceful dreams in your head of god knows what- something you'd wake up to in the morning and forget. That was until the scent of Itachi filled your breath. Every inhale that was taken just fueled the desire in your crotch that kept building and building until you- fully asleep- started humping his bed. What you didn't realize in this moment was that the scent wasn't coming from his bed- it was coming from him. Right next to you.

In the few hours you slept, it was peaceful and quiet. Sasuke's friends left one by one and that led everyone in the house to eventually fall asleep. That was until a few minutes ago, when a partially drunk Itachi came staggering up the stairs into his own room, unaware you were in his bed. He didn't bother to turn on the lights, he was exhausted and just craving sleep and upon stripping into nothing but his boxers, he managed to crawl into his side of the bed.

It wasn't until he jumped into bed, unable to wake up in your passed out state, that he realized you were there. Fast asleep. Humping the mattress. Minutes of contemplation from him passed by but nothing could prepare you for what you saw when you awoke.

As your eyes slowly opened, your underwear fully soaked from the dream you had, Itachi's smell was stronger- it was more than just his bed. You adjusted your eyes and in your half-asleep state managed to latch on to the shadowy figure next to you: Itachi- with his hand in his boxers gently stroking himself up and down, whimpering ever so softly.

What. the. fuck. was going on. You didn't move a muscle- frozen in your position on your stomach as you tried to make sense of the situation. His hand was in his pants. His hand was stroking his dick! Surely this made no sense? Your thoughts ran rampant, trying to come to an explanation for this situation as you tried to understand that the only logical one was that he didn't you know were in his bed. Surely that was it right? He must've come back from this party, unsuccessful with whatever girl he was pursuing, and instead of winding up in her bed, he came back home to touch himself to the thought of her. That had to be it right?

Suddenly your hips started grinding again- the same as they were doing in your sleep. You simply couldn't help yourself. Despite being unable to actually see Itachi's dick, the blurry visual of his hand in his pants gently touching himself alongside the soft noises that escaped from his lips were enough to make you accidentally let out a moan as you grinded on his bed.

Now, you both were frozen from his realization that you were actually awake after the noise you made.

His hand quickly left his boxers, at the most rapid speed possible and he instantly sat up, his shadowed head facing you in the dark with his eyes slightly squinting.

"Y/n?" He called out with a hint of disgust in his voice. Great. You knew it. You knew he didn't realize you were in his bed and was definitely touching himself to some girl. You had the full view (besides his dick) and you ruined it by letting that moan escape your mouth.

This caused you to sit up as well. "Ita-chi?" you called out, the near- pitch black light of his room not helping. No response.

You hand patted his bed, trying to reach for his arm until you found it and latched onto it, your eyes both meeting in the darkness.

"Itachi? What are you doing?" you asked calmly.

"Y/n, what are you doing?" He replied. "Why the fuck are you in my bed?".... You didn't know what to say.

"I- I don't know.... Sasuke told me that you wouldn't be here tonight and I needed somewhere to fall asleep before everyone left. I was really drunk... I still am, I'm so sorry- please believe me I'll leave now I didn't mean to intrude on a private time of yours," you rambled on an on and started to make your way out of his bed, away from the mess that this was. Until he grabbed your arm. With the same hand that was touching his dick.

"Wait, y/n, it's ok.... You don't have to go." Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned towards him again, the darkness still making it hard to see his face.

"What do you mean?"

"Well.. Sasuke's in his bed so you can't sleep there, and I'm not making you go on the couch downstairs. It's alright. You can spend the night in here, I don't mind."

You slowly crept back under his duvet, keeping a large distance between the two of you as you both sat there in silence. What the fuck was going on? Time passed and what felt like hours was only around one minute of straight silence. You were both trying to figure out what happened and it was sufficiently awkward at this point.

"I'm sorry I was in here while you uh... were.. ya know.. touching yourself. Sasuke told me you might've spent the night by a girl and I assume that you didn't, and needed some alone time to um... 'think of her'. I just didn't realize you came back," you tried to explain, your face showing clear embarrassment if only he could see it in the darkness.

Awkward silence filled the room for a few seconds. "Is that why you were grinding on my bed?" Itachi calmly asked. Fuck. He knows? So why was he touching himself while you were doing that?

"Ok fine. It's incredibly embarrassing but I was having a.. wet dream.. and you just happened to witness it. Nothing more to it."

"Is that why your eyes were open staring at me touching myself?".... Oh fuck. This was really bad. This was a very bad situati- wait.

"How did you know my eyes were open? You could see them?" You asked confusingly.

He didn't reply. You heard a scoff as he reached over to turn on his bedside lamp, a sensory input that distracted you from the horrible awkwardness of the conversation. Now the lights were on. There was no hiding anything. And both of you needed to explain.

"What were you dreaming about?" He asked. Unfortunately for him you were too distracted by the way he looked in the dim light to answer: shirtless, duvet sitting just below his boxers. Enough to see the hard bulge he still had, despite the uncomfortable situation.

"What were you touching yourself to?" You replied.

He paused. "No, y/n, I'm asking you. What were you dreaming about?"

Your eyes darted between his face and his bulge, evidently showing him that you could see it, yet for some reason, he didn't care. He left it on display, and god, were you taking it in. All of it. Sneakily hiding behind his black Calvin Klein boxers.

"Wait. Before I answer that, lemme just get this straight. So we were both practically pleasuring ourselves... in the same room.. in the same bed... while we both knew the other person was doing it?" You questioned. He had to provide answers at this point.

"Yeah." He replied.

That was it. A simple 'yeah'. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Oh come on Itachi, what is going on?"

"First, you'll answer what you were dreaming about."

"Oh my god, for fuck's sake! It was you! Obviously it was you!" you raised your voice, hoping no one else in the house could hear.

And just as the thought managed to process itself in his brain, you could see his dick twitch underneath his boxers. You both froze as seconds passed.

"What... were you touching yourself to..?" You managed to force the question out again despite your shyness at this moment.

"YOU, y/n. You in my shirt, in your fucking drunken, half asleep state, grinding your hips on my bed. That was until you fucking woke up without telling me."

"What?? Me??" You replied.

"God, of course I was. You showed up to my house looking... well.. the way you did. I couldn't stop thinking about it while I was out."

"So it was because of my outfit you got turned on?"

He scoffed. "Y/n, do you really think I haven't noticed you haven't been here for like three weeks?" Every sentence that was said he inched closer and closer to you. "You see this?" He looked down to his bulge. You were speechless. "Nobody's touched it in weeks. Except me. And anytime I have, I've been thinking about you, your face, your..." He paused.

"My what?" You asked, pressing him to answer.

He scooted back, realizing how close he was to you in the bed and all of a sudden looked like he had regretted those words. The entire energy shifted in the room and he abruptly went back to the very cold man he always was to you.

"Maybe you should actually sleep on the couch," he insisted.

Wow. One moment your wildest dream was coming true: his feelings were reciprocated. And then suddenly this? Was he regretting it?

"Itachi-"

"No, you should leave."

A sharp pain filled your chest and you felt hurt, beyond anything you'd felt before. You were slowly getting up to leave, disgusted by everything he exuded, but you knew he felt the same, and this was the one chance you had to fully prove it.

You turned back at him, his face turned away from you, not once grazing your skin. "Itachi, are you serious? Is that actually how you feel?" You inched closer to him. Soon, you were no more than a centimeter away, as you lifted your arm, ready to do something bold. While he still faced forward instead of looking at you, your arm trickled down to his boxers, finally managing to find his throbbing dick and hold it tightly.

You weren't very successful though, because in an instant, he grabbed the wrist of your arm, lifted it off his dick and used his other hand to grab you by the jaw. Now, you two were inches away from each other's face, your breaths mixing in the space between your lips while your eyes remained locked. Itachi spoke low, roughly;

"Y/n, do you have any idea what you're doing?"

"No, but we can deal with the stress of this situation after. I know what I want. I promise."

He paused as his eyes scanned between your lips and your eyes. "I don't mean that."

"Then what do you mean?"

"You can't handle this. It's too much for you." His lock on your wrist tightened.

"I. know. what. I. want."

And with that, both of your heads came crashing together as your lips met, a rough harsh kiss at first, that slowly turned into a slow sensual one as your tongues found each other.

You felt his hands wrap around you while you were still in his shirt as he found himself on top of you, his throbbing bulge meeting your bare pussy with no underwear. You both grinded against each other, giving you a feeling you had never felt before, until he realized you weren't wearing any underwear.

He paused, moved back slightly and stared at your opening fully bare while your legs were spread. He acted like he'd never seen one before with a girl.

"Fuck," he whispered under his breath. "Take the shirt off. Now."

And you did as you were told, leaving your bare tits in his sight as he continued to stare. He stared even more, then leant in, without touching, and whispered in your ear.

"Before I touch any part of you- and fuck I want to so badly- I need you to give me head, naked and pretty like this....... But I need to know that you can handle this, y/n. It's going to be a lot."

Your eyes met each other's as you nodded your head, willing to give him anything. And with that, he stepped off the bed and pulled his boxers down, finally revealing what he had underneath.

His thin, long dick with the prettiest, pink tip sprung out as he gestured you towards him.

"On your knees. Now."

And so you listened.

You dropped your knees to the floor and inched towards his dick, realizing that you had fantasized about it in the past. But what Itachi didn't know is that you had never given head before.

Your mouth opened wide as you let him insert it himself, a small groan escaping his lips once he felt it against your tongue.

You didn't know what to do. You knew that. But before you could attempt to make him feel good, he spoke,

"I'm going to throat fuck you okay?" And you have to take it." You nodded, and let him do what he wanted to you.

It started off slow. A gentle pace as he became more vocal, almost near moaning. But as his pace picked up, you didn't know if you could take it. He began thrusting in an out of your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat while his hands held your head, and as that happened you couldn't stop yourself from gagging.

"God your mouth feels so good on my cock."

By this point he was practically pounding into your throat, a sensation you had never experienced as tears fled down your cheek. Your eyes closed for a second, trying to catch yourself and let your throat relax, but as you opened your eyes and looked up at him, the tears from gagging turned into real tears. It was too much for you. And he could tell.

He stopped, slowly, but finally came to a stand still as tears still streamed down your eyes. "Y/n, are you okay?" You sat there on your knees in silence, embarrassed that you knew you couldn't handle it.

"Hey, hey, shh, it's okay," he grabbed you from the floor and lifted you up onto his bed as he got under the covers with you. Now you both were fully nude, bodies pressed against each other, but you enjoyed the comfort. It was more than just sexual.

"I'm sorry," you tried to speak amidst the tears, "I've just.... I don't know,"

"What is it? Tell me?"

"It's just that.... I... I have never given head.. And you expect so much.. I don't know what I thought. I knew I couldn't keep up with girls your age. This whole situation is just so much for me."

"Hey, shh, it's okay. Y/n it's okay. We don't have to do anything."

"But I want to," you replied amidst tears.

Itachi sighed. "It's okay. It's my fault for being so rough. I'll take care of you baby, let me show you how I've always wanted to fuck you."

Baby. He called you baby. And with that you agreed, nodding your head and leaning in to kiss him again.

This time it was sensual, your tongues licking each other as his lips trickled down to your neck, finally reaching your tits. He played with them for a bit, gently sucking and squeezing your nipples to force moans from you, until his lips trailed even further down, finally able to make you feel good.

"Such a pretty cunt," he pressed a kiss right on your clit, making your legs buckle. As his tongue flicked your clit in ways you could never imagine, you found yourself moaning very audibly; a sound you thought Itachi would never hear from you. He led you close to your release and sped up even faster, until finally stopping, leaving you upset that he didn't let you finish.

As his head perked back up, his lips red and flushed, he smirked, finally bringing his dick to your entrance, leaning in to whisper in your ear again.

"This may hurt baby, tell me if it hurts and I can either fuck you through the pain or stop. It's all up to you."

You nodded, unable to audibly form words. You simply couldn't wrap your mind around that fact that Itachi was speaking to you like this- like he wanted you. As he lined his dick up with your opening, he slowly pressed in, making way for his cock as you two watched each other forcefully- no eye contact broken. You both moaned, heavily once it finally managed to reach all the way in and Itachi leant in to kiss you as he started thrusting inside you.

His moans grew as well as his words, "Fuck, what a tight cunt," "Good girl, keeping squeezing around my cock." The pace of his thrusts increased as his thumb suddenly found your clit, rubbing it roughly and nearing you to an orgasm. As you locked eyes with his, you felt yourself coming undone the minute he spoke. "That's it- good girl, yes, yes- just like that let it out- show me how you cum" And as you reached your climax, moaning harder than you ever have before, you found yourself extremely close to Itachi: your lips pressed against his and as your mouth was open in an 'O' shape, he mimicked the same, helping you ride out your orgasm.

Once you finally caught yourself, you felt Itachi's dick start moving again inside you, and as his pace picked up you could tell he was close.

"Baby, I'm going to cum in you okay? Has anyone ever done that before?"

And as quickly as you could reply 'no', he came fully undone, groaning heavily as you felt his white cum seep out into you, almost as if him being the first person to release in you tipped him over the edge.

His body weight rested on you, skin to skin while his dick remained inside you and your breaths matched each other's. You couldn't wrap your mind around the events of tonight and how it lead to this although you'd never complain ever again in your life. From seeing Itachi pissed off at you in your bra (which was evidently because he didn't want anyone else to see you like that), to being rough and dominant, to then fucking you sensually, telling you how beautiful you were, you simply felt like you were dreaming.

"Itachi, please pinch me and tell me this is real," you urged.

"It is real, and it's perfect, but it may not be tomorrow... We may have some explaining to do."

You paused, upset at the fact that this night could not last forever.

"Well let's make it last as long as it can- you can be more rough with me... show me that side of you.. I want to experience it."

Itachi smirked, flipping you over immediately onto your stomach and into an arch with your ass in the air.

"Good, because this ass looked like it needed some smacks." And as you felt his massive palm strike down on your right cheek, leaving an obvious mark, you knew that tonight you were about to experience something sexually that you never had before.

And tomorrow's problem... was tomorrow's problem.

[iimplicitt]

I WAS ALL OVER HER — O.P.

pairings: oscar piastri x reader (romantic/platonic) | lando norris x reader (romantic)

part one of three

summary: childhood best friends riddled with missed opportunities. oscar makes the mistake of introducing you to his new teammate who’s known to be a player.

warnings (most take place in pt. 2 and 3): pining, missed opportunities, cheating (mentioned), cheating towards the end, 18+ smut, jealous!oscar, toxic!lando, mirror sex, fingering + oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex sorta (stay safe), technically a HEA for oscar x yn? bumpy road to get there, though.

authors note: this in no way speaks on my opinion of lando and what his personality may be like, i love him this is purely for the plot <3 this is also my first time posting fic on here i’m usually hiding on ao3 or wattpad (same user as on here if you’re interested in harry potter!)

word count: 2.4k

dedicated to; @theonottsbxtch

enjoy, r <3

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

A debut in Formula One was bound to have its hurdles, being full of good days and bad days. Oscar didn’t know it then, but introducing his childhood best friend to his new teammate was either the best or worst decision he had ever made.

He hadn’t thought twice about inviting you to his first race, knowing that you were a presence that always provided a sense of ease around his mind when he started to think about things too much. You never even had to do anything, just being there helped.

He hadn’t thought twice about introducing you to Lando in the paddock that first race weekend. Not particularly loving the apt attention his teammate was suddenly showing as you talked, but he tried to push it into the back of his mind. Oscar wasn’t a jealous person, at least he tried not to be. Envy got nobody anywhere. Although he couldn’t ignore the uncomfortable churn in his stomach as he watched Lando hug you goodbye, muttering a low “Nice to meet you,” and the Brits eyes lingered on you as they both watched you walk away to the Paddock club to get seated.

Oscar’s eyes cut to Lando, biting the inside of his cheek as his mind analysed the interaction he just witnessed.

As if sensing the unease next to him in the form of his teammate, Lando met his gaze and laughed lightly. “What?”

Shaking his head, Oscar turned and started the walk to the garage. “Nothing.”

That first race had been hell, not only because of the searing Texas sun but the way it had gone to absolute shite in the first lap. A retirement on lap ten hadn’t been on any of his cards, but the reality of racing isn’t always a good hand dealt. McLaren still threw a celebratory party afterward though, at some southern themed bar in Austin. You had walked in wearing a cowboy hat and boots to make him laugh. It worked, like always.

And like always he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

Apparently Lando couldn’t either.

youruser

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 12,492 others

youruser howdy 🤠 save a horse, ride a cowboy

*tap to load more comments*

userone: pretty girllll <3

oscarpiastri: stole my hat

❤️ by author

usertwo: omg????? lando and oscar??

danielricciardo: i’m an honorary cowboy

| oscarpiastri: no

| userfour: WHO IS THIS GIRL

landonorris: me next?

❤️ by author

| userfive: omg???

| usersix: that is WILDDDD

userseven: new wag alert? but for who??

Oscar suffered through the rest of the races for reasons he wasn’t expecting. The amount of times he ran into the two of you hanging out or talking, it shouldn’t have annoyed him. But it did. It was all the lingering touches that made him feel nauseous. Lando’s hand on the small of your back, moving hair out of your face on a windy day, bringing you coffee in the mornings and his hand brushing yours, leaning in close to whisper in your ear over the roar of crowds and car engines– all the things Oscar wish he was doing but he never seemed to get there first.

It was always, always Lando. On and off track he couldn’t seem to keep up.

He didn’t mean to start ignoring you, but everytime he went to see you, you were with Lando. He couldn’t stomach it. Oscar always had a level head but he felt like he was slipping under unfamiliar territory of being reckless and on edge.

The morning of the last race must’ve been a boiling point. He and Lando were warming up when his teammate asked him something so dreadful, Oscar nearly dropped the weights on his chest.

“Is she single?”

Oscar slowly sat up and set down the weights, careful to not throw them at Lando’s head. “Why?”

“Why not?”

He sat there for a moment, sweat making his shirt cling to him like a second skin. His bones felt all wrong inside his body, not wanting to have this conversation. “You don’t do relationships.”

Lando shrugged, standing up and grabbing his water. “People can change their minds. So? Is she?”

Oscar shouldn’t have done it, but the lie slipped out of his mouth. “I think she’s seeing someone. I don’t know who, though.”

Lando looked at his teammate for a moment, eyes slightly narrowing and he hummed. “Noted.”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

You weren’t sure why Oscar was ignoring you. It felt like whiplash. He invites you to the rest of the racing season but won’t mutter anything else other than a hello. You’d spiral at night wondering if you did something wrong, but didn’t want to bombard him with texts. You knew he was busy.

So like many nights while on the road with the drivers you stared up at the ceiling of the hotel room. A ding echoed around the room, indicating a new text. Blindly reaching for it, the bright screen illuminated your face and made you squint. Not quite sure what you were reading.

Unknown number: Dinner tonight?

You: Who is this?

Unknown number: Guess

Rolling your eyes, you were about to block the number before there was a knock on the hotel door. Cautiously walking to the door, you looked through the peephole before frowning in confusion. Unlocking it, it swung open and you blinked at the surprise. “Lando?”

Smiling, he held up his phone. “You know, it’s rude to leave someone on read.”

“It’s also rude to be a stalker.”

“A stalker?”

“How’d you get my number?”

He waved you off. “Trivial information. So, dinner?”

You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t flattered, but it seemed completely out of left field. Then again, you were terrible at picking up cues. Half of the people you’ve dated, you hadn’t even known they’d liked you in the first place till Oscar mentioned it. Which was… disheartening. Everytime he started those conversations you had hoped he was about to say he had feelings for you. And every single time you were disappointed, letting yourself get to a level of delusion where you thought you may have a chance. It only got worse when he entered Formula One. The type of girls drivers dated were a whole other category of drop dead stunning. Personally, you just felt… average. Boring. Unremarkable. Not to mention had told you to your face he saw you as a little sister. It was embarrassing to admit but you still cried about it sometimes.

Lando didn’t stray from the perception you had of the drivers. He had a history of dating models. Crossing your arms, you leaned against the doorframe and narrowed your eyes at him. “Why?”

He smiled crookedly, dimples showing in his cheeks. He was handsome, you could admit that. “I like you, and I think dinner would be nice. We haven’t gotten to hang out anywhere by ourselves.”

“We’ve hung out alone a handful of times these past few weeks.” You countered, wanting to walk carefully into this situation.

He nodded in partial agreement. “Not anywhere off track, though. I want to get to know you, is that so bad?’

You gnawed at your lip, not being able to shrug off the constant companion of insecurity as you stared at your best friend's teammate. “Oscar warned me about you, you know?”

Lando stepped closer and you watched him carefully as he leaned against the other side of the doorframe. His cologne hit you then, smelling of sea salt and sandalwood. It was nice. He hummed quietly, looking at you intently. “Did he? What’d he say?”

“That you’re a player and I should keep my distance.” The words had irked you when he spoke them after you and Lando had met. It made you feel as if you had your head turned too easily. Or that if Lando did for some reason show interest, it wouldn’t mean anything.

The man so close to you gave a closed mouth smile, eyes hooded by thick lashes and the shadows of the low light hallway danced across his face almost playfully. “And what do you think?”

You properly assessed Lando Norris for the first time as he stood less than a foot from you, looking at you so intently it made your skin feel warm despite the cool temperature set on the thermostat. He looked like he wanted something. Wanted you. Your head couldn’t keep up. It felt pathetic, but when someone spends their whole life feeling undesirable, and then someone expresses that desire, it feels… abstract. Unobtainable, even though it’s being offered on a silver platter.

Warning alarms were going off inside your head, as well as butterflies you couldn’t explain. Hope, maybe. Maybe, someone wants you for once. But Lando was a wild card, the question is if you were willing to gamble on it.

“I think you’re dangerous.” You whispered.

He stepped closer, nearly touching you but not quite. “Let’s have dinner.”

You became acutely aware your hair was still damp from a shower and you were in your pajamas. “It would take me a while to get ready.”

He shrugged and looked into your hotel room, “we can have dinner here. Room service on me.”

Narrowing your eyes again, you looked at him carefully. “This isn’t a ploy to get into my pants is it?”

Lando laughed lightly, looking down at you but it wasn’t taunting. It felt light hearted and sincere. “No, though if you do end up offering I’m not going to tell you no. In fact, if you do offer I might forget every word except for yes and your name.”

You were definitely blushing, and goddammit you were also charmed for some reason. Clearing your throat, you stepped back into your room and eyed him for one more debating moment before deciding to hell with it. Oscar clearly didn’t want you, and you were tired spending years and years waiting for him to. Why not give someone else a chance?

“Yes, we can have dinner.”

Lando winked at you as he stepped into your room, shutting the door softly behind him.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Winter break before the 2024 season was in full swing, but before everyone departed home, Zak was hosting a Christmas party at his house he had in Woking. Oscar was nervous as he walked to your hotel room, feeling more anxious than he did even before races. He was going to ask you to go with him, but also finally (hopefully) telling you everything. About how he felt, about how he felt bad for being distant and he just didn’t know how to juggle everything at once. How he finally felt like he was in a good place to make it work with you. Of course he’s always thought about it, but the fear of ruining your friendship always weighed heavy on his heart. He wanted you in his life no matter what, and he was terrified of scaring you off or waiting too long.

Knocking on your door, he rocked back on his heels, being able to hear his heart pounding in his chest. After a moment, it swung open.

So he didn’t chicken out, Oscar immediately let the question slip from his mouth. “Will you go to the Christmas party with me?”

You blinked at him, looking as if you were taken off guard. You opened your mouth to respond, but more words kept tumbling out of his mouth as if he was coughing up poison that had been in his body for far too long. The thoughts and feelings wanting out after all these years.

“I know I should’ve asked you sooner, but I was just nervous. I’ve had a lot going on both with work and just in my head but I think I’m finally in a good place for this. I know it didn’t end up working out in our favour the first time a few years ago, but–”

“Oscar.”

“I think I’m ready. I’m sorry it took so long and I’m so thankful you’ve stuck by my side and supported me. I always think about that night and the what if’s but–”

“Oscar, please–”

“But I think it’s good we waited and that we’re finally ready to do this. Together. And I didn’t want to wait anymore–”

“Oscar, stop.”

He properly looked at you and noticed your eyes were red and glistening. His heart started to stutter a bit. “What?”

You bit into your bottom lip and looked away from him for a moment before meeting his eye again. “Why would you tell me all this now?”

Oscar’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You shut your eyes, as if in mental torment over something. “Lando asked me.”

His heart faltered even further. “To the party?”

You sighed, a tear slipping from your eye but you quickly scraped it away with your thumb.

“Baby, have you seen where the keys are?” A voice called from somewhere in the room behind you. A familiar voice, and Oscar’s heart stopped working all at once.

Oscar’s eyes didn’t stray from yours, though. Even as they began to burn and he wanted to rip them out of his head, he didn’t stop looking at you. Is this why he hadn’t seen much of either of you towards the end of the season? Were you running off and– God, he felt like he was going to puke. “How long?” He forced out, his voice cracking.

You sucked in a shaky breath, replying to Lando first. “They might be in the bathroom.” You took another moment before finally answering Oscar. “A few weeks.”

Clenching his jaw, Oscar nodded as he looked down at the ground. “I thought I told you he was bad news.”

“I’m not five, I can make my own decisions.” You snapped.

Despite knowing better, Oscar’s eyes narrowed at you. “So you go and fool around with my teammate behind my back as some weird… what is this, revenge?”

Your jaw went slack as you stared at him. “You did not just say that to me, oh my god. Who do you think I am? Just because you said no to me doesn’t mean I use your friends against you, that is– Jesus, Oscar.”

“Then why hide that from me!”

“Because I knew you’d act like this! You always act like this when I get into a relationship!”

He glared at you. “And why do you think that is?”

You stepped back from him as if he’d just slapped you. “No. Oscar, no. We are not doing this. Not now. Not ever.”

He couldn’t help it. Of all people, of course it would be Lando who swoops in. Of course he was too late, again. Always ten steps behind his teammate. “I don’t understand, I thought we were on the same page.”

“You told me to my face, point blank, that you didn’t see me that way.”

“I panicked! Of course I feel the same way, I always have. I was just terrified of messing it up and I wasn’t in a place to drag you through a relationship when I knew I couldn’t be there for you.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that!”

“Is everything okay?” Lando walked up behind you and Oscar felt the unfamiliar urge to punch him. He’d never wanted to hit anyone before, but he was dangerously close to losing his temper.

“We’re fine-”

“He was just leaving-”

Lando looked between Oscar and you before settling a hand on your hip. “You alright?”

You nodded, smiling tightly and Oscar felt like killing himself as he stared at the hand on your hip. Wondering where else Lando’s hands had been.

“Give us a moment.” You said. Lando nodded, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead and eyeing Oscar with a strange sense of… he couldn’t place it. It almost felt like Lando was bragging.

You stepped into the hall and shut the door behind you.

“You can’t seriously be with him.” Oscar said, his tone desperate as the world was being yanked from underneath him.

“Oscar, will you please just stop?” Another tear slipped out and on instinct, he reached out and wiped it away for you, feeling your soft skin and hating that Lando knew what it was like to be touched by you. “All this time. I told you how I felt years ago and you said you didn’t see me like that. And you do this now. And with it being your teammate? I- no. Just, stop it.”

“I was in a bad place when you first asked me, but please-“

“Oscar you can’t do this now-“

“Why do you think he’d even be interested in you?”

You froze.

He did too, he didn’t mean it like that. Lando doesn’t do relationships, and he had a sick feeling this was some twisted game to him. Something to hold over Oscar’s head. “I’m sorry-“

“Oscar, you’re being mean.”

“I didn’t-“

“Is this just because Lando took something else from you? What, just because you’re the second driver you try and-“

“Second driver? Really?” He hated you thought of him like that.

You briefly closed your eyes. “Oscar you have never-“

“I thought you knew!”

“Thought I knew what! You told me you didn’t and you barely even talk to me anymore. I’m not–” you laughed and looked away from him. “We’re not doing this. Go home, Oscar.” You shut the door, leaving him alone in the hallway with a caved out and hollow chest.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

landonorris

liked by youruser, carlossainz55, charlesleclerc and 604,392 others

landonorris good weather, good company

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userone: HE TAGGED YOURUSER OMGGG

usertwo: was NOT expecting this hard launch

youruser: <3

❤️ by author

| userthree: SHUT UPPP CONFIRMED

userfour: anyone notice oscar didn’t like it?

| userfive: aren’t oscar and the girl childhood friends too?

| usersix: not to be that person but tea

landonorris

liked by youruser, carlossainz55, f1 and 3,149,293 others

landonorris WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1 🏆

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georgerussel63: congrats mate!!

youruser: so proud

❤️ by author

| userone: your kiss after the race was so cute!!

usertwo: oscar didn’t like this either? weird.

| userthree: did you see him on tv? was glaring at lando the whole time

| userfive: yeah, something feels weird

userfour: LETS GOOOO

part two here