#fic req

[baekhyunsbestie]

PLEASE LISA giving baekhyun a hj/bj while he plays video games PLEASEEEEE

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 18+/MDNI | gamer!baekhyun x f!reader ꒱ ˎˊ˗

the glow from his monitor casts sharp blue shadows across his face, jaw tight with focus, fingers flying across his keyboard like second nature. headset on, voice low and casual as he chats with teammates, completely unaware of what’s coming for him.

you’re already sliding down to your knees, sinking beneath the desk without a word. it starts innocent—your hands grazing up his thighs, slow and deliberate, nails lightly scraping over the soft fabric of his sweats. he stiffens slightly, eyes flicking down for half a second before returning to the screen.

“babe,” he warns under his breath, a hint of laughter curling in his tone. “don’t start.”

but you’re already nosing at his crotch, pressing your lips against the bulge growing under the thin fabric. his breath stutters, fingers faltering for a millisecond before he recovers, clearing his throat and speaking into the mic like nothing’s happening.

“n-nah, ’m good. just—uh, repositioning.”

bullshit.

you hook your fingers into the waistband and tug, slowly, teasingly, pulling his sweats and briefs down just far enough for his cock to spring free—half-hard and already twitching. the sight alone makes your mouth water.

“f-fuck,” he mutters, barely audible over the game sounds.

you lean in and give him a long, slow lick from base to tip, tongue flat and wet, savoring the taste of his skin. his legs tense immediately, knees parting wider like he’s offering himself up without realizing it. you wrap your fingers around him, stroking him with lazy precision, watching him swell quickly in your hand.

his voice cracks mid-callout.

“shit—uh, my bad. lag.”

he’s trying so hard to hold it together, but his body’s giving him away—shoulders rigid, hips shifting closer, one hand dropping beneath the desk to tangle in your hair. his fingers tighten as you take him into your mouth, lips parting to swallow him down, inch by inch, until he’s heavy on your tongue and your throat stretches around him.

“jesus christ,” he hisses through his teeth.

you start slow, hollowing your cheeks, pulling back just to swirl your tongue around the head. the wet sounds echo softly beneath the desk, nearly drowned out by the clicking of his mouse—but you can hear his breath stutter, feel the tremble in his thighs.

“baby,” he whispers, voice strained. “you’re gonna make me fuck up my kd.”

you hum around him, the vibration making him jolt. his grip tightens in your hair, and when you glance up, he’s biting his lip hard, eyes locked on the screen but unfocused now—completely unraveling.

“s-so what’s the strat for next round?” he asks into the mic, trying to sound normal, even though his voice has dropped an octave and his jaw’s clenched like he’s fighting for his life.

you pick up your pace—slick, filthy sounds filling the space between you. your hand pumps what your mouth can’t reach, saliva coating his length, dripping messily down your chin. his cock twitches against your tongue every time you gag softly around him, the wet heat of your mouth too much to handle.

“shit, baby—slower,” he grits out beneath his breath. “you’re not playing fair.”

you pull off with a soft pop, lips shiny, eyes wicked.

“thought you liked a challenge,” you murmur, licking a stripe along his shaft before sinking back down, this time taking him deeper, pushing your limits until tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

he shudders violently, mic suddenly muted with a sharp click. “fuckin' shit,” he groans, head dropping back against the chair. “you’re such a tease.”

you moan softly around him, feeling him throb as he gets closer—hips twitching, muscles coiled tight. he’s losing it, unraveling beneath your mouth, his game completely forgotten now as you drag him straight to the edge.

“ya want it that bad, huh?” he rasps, voice thick with arousal. “just had to get on your knees like a needy little slut while i’m streaming?”

you nod, sucking him harder, faster, letting him use your mouth exactly how he likes. the moment he starts to lose control, you feel it—his cock pulsing wildly, thighs shaking as a broken moan slips past his lips.

“fuck, i’m—shit—don’t stop,” he gasps, yanking the mic off completely just as he spills down your throat, hot and overwhelming, his hand gripping your hair like a lifeline as you take every drop.

he slumps back in his chair, chest heaving, sweat at his temples, a dazed little smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

you pull off with a soft, wet pop, wiping your chin with the back of your hand and licking your lips with that innocent, smug little smile that always drives him insane.

you crawl out from under the desk like nothing happened.

he blinks at you, cheeks flushed, hair a mess, headset dangling off one ear.

“…you’re evil,” he mutters, voice rough and wrecked.

you just grin. “you won your game, didn’t you?”

he groans, tossing his headset on the desk.

“i’ma wreck you later.”

you lean in close, lips brushing his ear. “promise?”

[updownlately]

how could i ever (treat my baby that way)

| leah williamson x reader | angst | 4.7k | inspo: never keeping secrets by babyface | a/n: got this ask a long ass time ago and it's finally gone somewhere. this is part one to a two part fic! (read part ii here)

~~~

You’d think that between the chilly air coming out of the air conditioning in the room and the freezing cold drink in your hand that you’d be comfortably cool, body not overheating despite being in a slightly crowded bar. 

You hoped that would be the case, just like it had been many times before. Yet, the way your body was burning right now contrasted your prayers, unusual for you, yet not surprising given the circumstances.

You knew you were pissed, could nearly feel the steam coming out of your own ears before your emotions could even make themselves known. It sucked, having to accept your fate, letting yourself get more and more agitated at the sight in front of you, hand tightening on your glass, fingertips white. But that’s all you could do, invisible rope holding you back, keeping your hands tied, the artist no other than the one you loved.

Letting your eyes drift over to the blonde, your blonde, in the middle of the dance floor, your jaw tightened. 

You knew she was yours, the two of you having been together for over a year now. You knew she was yours, your apartment being the one she resided in the most. You knew she was yours, ‘I love you’s’ whispered in the mingled breathes you shared late into the night. You knew she was yours. So why didn’t it feel like it?

Your unwavering gaze, almost like two laser beams, focused on your girlfriend, mentally begging her to look your way, to see the hurt in your eyes.

Taking a deep breath to try (and fail) to calm yourself down, you quickly downed the rest of your drink, thankful to have gone the sober route tonight. You didn’t know what drunk you would’ve done in all this hurt, and you surely didn’t want to find out.

Contemplating whether you should swim your way through the sea of people to the bar, you waited. You waited, and waited, and waited, pleading to the universe that she would meet your eyes.

She didn’t look. 

Not a single glance was sent your way.

She didn’t care. 

Shaking your head, anger quickly turning into disappointment, then sadness, you stepped out of where you were in the corner, having preferred to stay back by the booth as the rest of the girls enjoyed their night. 

Making your way over to the bar, you ordered yourself a water, hoping it would soothe the ache in your chest. 

Downing half of it as soon as the bartender passed it to you, you turned, eyes once again finding purchase on your girlfriend subconsciously.

You watched as she danced with the Chelsea player unashamedly, almost proudly, as if she didn’t have a girlfriend to go home to at the end of the night.

Naive and infatuated, you had never bothered to consider the difference between private and secret back when the idea was suggested to you. Now? Now you utterly resented the distinction between the two words.

Feeling the hair on the back on your neck rising however, you blinked out of your thoughts, quickly zoning back into real life, scanning the room for the cause before ocean eyes met yours. 

Leah.

The blonde was finally looking right at you, the girl in front of her continuing to dance in close proximity, her eyes closed- too gone with the music, to notice her distracted partner.

Raising an eyebrow in silent question, you waited.

You waited for a reaction, an apologetic smile, a mouthed sorry. Something to show she realized how her actions were hurting you. Anything. 

You waited a second, then another, and then another. 

Instead you got nothing, a continued blank look shot your way as she continued looking at you, head tilted.

You were well aware you didn’t have to say much, nearly a year of being in a relationship, a little over two of living together meant she knew you- quite well too, if you had an opinion on the matter. 

In this moment though, it felt like not enough. 

All the memorized takeout orders, her awareness on how you liked your coffee, what your moods were and how to best comfort you in your lows- her knowing all of that didn’t matter if she couldn’t understand how absolutely heartbroken you felt right now, watching her keep away from you, dance with another body that wasn’t yours, marking a win that you both shared, but only one of you were celebrating.

It didn’t matter if she didn’t realize she was hurting you. 

Bringing your drink towards your chest, you ducked your forehead down, letting the cool glass bring you some reprieve to your growing headache, no doubt caused by heartache. 

Wanting nothing more than to leave, teammates be damned- this night was over for you long ago- you placed the glass back on the bar top, thanking the woman behind it once again before heading over to the team’s table.

Quickly grabbing your coat, confident that Leah could find her way home- not out of malice but with the staggering number of your shared friends, teammates, and rival players in the club- you bid adieu to Steph and Kim, the only two by the table, citing a tired body as your excuse. 

Exiting the stifling atmosphere and slipping into the cool air, you took a deep breath in, forcing your shoulders to relax in an attempt to convince yourself you were okay. 

Well aware that Leah’s eyes had followed you out, you committed the sound of only your footfalls in the late night into memory, eyes stinging, shaky breaths escaping you. 

Beginning the trek home, your apartment not too far, you let yourself get lost in your thoughts. 

~~~

It’s much, much, later when you hear the unmistakable jingle of Leah’s keys by your front door- three forty-three am to be exact. 

You weren’t surprised to hear her here. It was very much expected in fact, the blonde spending nearly all her days and nights here since quarantine started, not bothering to move out once you had made things official. 

Sighing at the fact that you hadn’t slept a wink since you had reached home, not for a lack of trying but for having to console your dejected heart, you internally groaned at the thought of dealing with a drunk Leah. 

Putting your grief aside for the time being and rising out of bed, you rubbed the tiredness out of your eyes and padded over to the kitchen just as Leah stumbled into the entry hallway in front of you. 

Taking in the sight before you, you sighed warily. 

The blonde looked absolutely disheveled- hair matted to her forehead but sticking out everywhere, heels in her hand, and exhaustion pouring out of her eyes.

Watching her stagger blindly towards the island, you quickly put an arm around her waist, leading her to sit on a barstool as you silently grabbed her some water.

Placing the glass in front of her, you turned, planning to head into your shared bedroom to get a set of clothes for the midfielder to change into when her groggy voice interrupted your actions, derailing your thoughts.

“You left early…”

The accusatory tone wasn’t lost on you, your defences immediately going up. 

Baffled at how it was your behaviour being questioned, you shook your head in shock. 

“I did,” you state matter-of-factly, turning to face her. 

You paused for a second, waiting to see what the blonde would say next, already on edge from the rollercoaster of emotions from today.

“Why?”

The question put you in a state of incredulity, your anger and hurt resurfacing.

“Why? You’re really asking me why?” Your voice came out louder than you would’ve liked, given the time, but you didn’t pay much mind. 

“Leah, you spent the whole night getting cozy with another girl. The whole night! While I was there! And you’re asking me why I left early?”

“We were just dancing…it’s not like I was making out with her in the middle of the dance floor.” The slurred words combined with the eye-roll from the defender had you shaking your head. “It was completely platonic.”

You couldn’t believe this.

“You’re joking right? Or did you get a concussion mid-game that I don’t know about?” 

“Relax... just because you can’t go a few hours without me doesn’t mean I have to do the same.” 

The slurred words coupled with the nonchalant tone with which Leah expressed herself caused you to lose your breath for a second, mind baffled.

“Did you-,” collecting yourself for a second, you asked her, “…did you just call me clingy?”

Swallowing hard in the silence that followed, you felt your stomach sink.

“You’re really calling me clingy?” The shakiness in your voice made itself known, disbelief becoming apparent.

“It was friendly.” You watched as Leah turned her body away from you, choosing to rest her head on the cool countertop in order to find some relief from her probable headache.

“Was it? You want me to go fucking drape myself all over Millie the next we go out with the United team? Let me know if you feel ‘clingy’ then?” Voice rising more than quiet words once more, you took a step back, trying to put space between you and the other girl. 

“Oh come on it wasn’t that big of a deal…” 

You would have agreed it this hadn’t happened so often, so many times in the past- tonight being your tipping point.

There had already been multiple team events where the blonde stayed the furthest away from you, never bothering to celebrate your goals with you, avoiding any physical contact, almost as if it burned her to be near you. Hiding away any photos you took together, platonic or romantic, in her phone, them never once leaving her library. 

You didn’t know how much more of this you could take, really. 

Ignoring that she couldn’t see you, you shook your head at Leah. Clenching your jaw, you decided to forego taking care of the blonde like you had planned.

“Great, then neither will be you going to bed alone tonight,” you scoffed. 

You saw the midfielder immediately shoot up into a sitting position from her slumped state, eyes wide, body tense.

“We haven’t slept apart since the pandemic, you know that,” her timid voice echoed in the dark apartment.

It was true. You’d both had gotten lucky since and had even been paired up for the handful of times the team had stayed in a hotel, the only time spent apart being during international breaks.

“Well I feel like I was too clingy earlier so I wanna give you space now, since you so clearly crave that.”

“Babe…” 

Well aware that you were too upset to think rationally, you continued ignored Leah’s pleas. Turning on your heel, you started to make your way to grab your pillow and head to the guest room, choosing to kick yourself out rather than disturb the midfielder.

Hearing footfalls behind you, you shook your head as you continued on your path.

“Leah, go to bed. I’m sleeping alone and that’s final.” Your voice came out cold, almost stoic.

The blonde reached for your hand, fingertips barely skimming yours as you harshly pulled your arm to your chest, cradling it.

“Leah I fucking mean it.”

Shoulders dropping, the blonde dejectedly agreed, too out of it to protest again.

Hearing a lack of footsteps behind your own as you made your way across the hall, you shuddered as your heart sank deeper, the weight in your chest settling torturously.

Why did love hurt?

~~~

You didn’t know it but Leah’s miserable the next few days without you. She’s well aware she’d put her foot in her mouth far enough, dug her own grave, but she misses you terribly anyways. 

She misses your hugs in the morning and how you’d let her cuddle you as you cooked breakfast. She misses your kisses and the way you’d randomly just come sit with her during your free time. She misses you being around her, you always hyper, your energy infectious, always brightening her moods. She especially missed your mere presence, you now never spending more time than needed in the same room as her now, instead electing to leave for practice much earlier than needed, picking up takeout and eating in your room, doing anything and everything to ensure you both would never cross paths for longer than a handful of seconds. 

The distance between you had been so noticeable that it didn’t take the team long to catch on, the way you didn’t gravitate to Leah at every given chance during training a stark contrast to your regular shenanigans. 

It had gotten to the point where the team had even been too scared to ask you directly, your frustration clear enough on the pitch with how hard you trained, interactions with the rest of your teammates minimizing as well.

It’s why Beth and Lia had quietly confronted Leah, both uneasy at what had changed between you both. 

“You two okay? She keeps avoiding you at practice, and to be honest, it’s slightly worrisome…” Lia’s voice trailed off as her, Beth, and Leah made it back towards the locker rooms post-practice.

Taking a quick look over her shoulder, not finding you trailing behind, Leah faced the Swiss captain, voice dropping lower. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. She’s just going through some personal stuff. She’ll be okay…”

The ‘I hope so’ went unsaid, but the way Leah’s pitch rose at the end of the statement had the two other player’s eyebrows raising in silent question, thoughts they both chose not to voice on the tip of their tongues.

Nodding in response, the trio continued their walk in silence, no one wanting to push too hard.

Unsaid or not, all three knew that nothing was fine, Leah more so than the others, and it scared her immensely. 

~~~

Stress clear on her face, Leah sprinted off the pitch after the game against Chelsea, chasing you down the tunnel before the rest of the team had even left the field. 

Catching up to your tired body, she grabbed your hand and pulled you in the opposite direction to a more secluded spot, uncaring of how drained you absolutely were.

Too tired from the past few days to refute, you let yourself be pulled.

When the blonde figured you two had made it far enough down the tunnel to talk without being heard, she quickly turned on her heel, stopping and looking at you, face screwed in displeasure. 

“What the fuck was that on the field today? Why were you so aggressive?! You got carded for fuck’s sake- you don’t get carded…ever!”

Sighing, barely scrounging up the energy for the conversation, you closed your eyes, pulling your arm away from her hold.

“I played the game. That’s what I did. Fouls are part of the game,” Your voice was rigid, no fight in you, not after how horribly you’d been sleeping as of late, the argument from nights ago not only affecting the blonde. 

“You played dangerously, that’s what you did! You were irresponsible, careless, and…and reckless! Not to mention selfish! Do you know how much of a difficult situation it would’ve been had you got a red? And with the way that referee was calling fouls, it’s a miracle you didn’t!” 

You could’ve gotten hurt. The words go unsaid.

By now the blonde was nearly yelling, face red from frustration.

Please just let me go.

Biting the inside of your cheek to stay calm, you sighed again.

“Game’s over either way. I didn’t get a red and we won…I don’t see a problem here.” Your voice curt, you made a move to step past the midfielder.

You didn’t get far however, the other girl’s hand coming to grasp your wrist to prevent you from stepping away any further. 

Stopping briefly in your tracks, you didn’t turn. You couldn’t. You couldn’t because if you did, she’d see the tears that were threatening to fall, heart exhausted. 

Instead, you shake your head, tugging your arm out of her grasp and bringing it to cautiously wipe away the few tears that had escaped. 

Watching your figure walk away, Leah’s face fell at your lack of care. 

Dejectedly, she followed you, a fair distance away. Making her own way to the change rooms with a flurry of thoughts in her head and an ache in her chest, she swallowed the lump in her throat.

She couldn’t even blame anyone but herself. 

~~~

Entering the locker room, Leah took a quick look around, the rest of the team nearly showered and changed out of their kits, save for you. 

Ignoring Lia and Katie’s questioning, the blonde walked over to her locker and began to get ready to shower.

Lucky that this was a home game, Leah knew she could take her time.

Taking a quick shower, she tried to casually wait for you to finish up- well aware that you were trying to drag out your own shower, hoping that you wouldn’t cross paths with your girlfriend (ex?- you didn’t really know.) 

The Gunner relented however, making up a lame excuse at Beth’s plea for her to join her on the walk out.

Patiently sitting, nearly alone in the locker room as she watched the rest of the girls file out, she waited. 

She waited as the patter of water ran longer than usual. 

She waited as she slowly heard it come to a stop, an eerie silence consuming the room.

She waited as you finally stepped out minutes later, wet hair tied in a messy but, club gear resting comfortably on your frame. 

She waited as you realized she was still here, eyes widening as a quiet fuck escaped your lips. 

Patience wearing thin now, she stood up, her own bag forgotten as she made her way to you. 

“Listen-“

You didn’t even let her finish though, instead cutting her off before another word could be said, your hand held between you to keep a distance. 

“Honestly? Save it.”

“No, but-“

Shaking your head, you slipped past her, beginning to quickly throw your dirty kit and toiletries into your kit bag.

Silence covered the room for a moment, only the noises of you angrily packing your kit bag to be heard. 

It didn’t last long however, timid words cutting through the tense atmosphere. 

“I’m sorry.”

You froze in your spot at your words, your sweaty jersey just barely dangling in your hands as you inhaled sharply.

Collecting yourself, you shook your head, Leah’s words meaning nothing to you. 

“Okay.”

The blunt, one word reply of yours hit Leah harder than she anticipated, this not at all how she was expecting this conversation to go.

Swallowing hard, she stepped around you, coming to a stop a short ways away, standing between the door and you. 

Wringing her hands nervously, Leah’s voice came out meek, eyes nearly downcast and heart pounding.

“Is that all you’re going to say?”

Laughing darkly at the other girl’s words, you stopped your movement again, turning around with your hands resting on your hips, a cold look in your eyes.

“What else do you want me to say?” Clenching your jaw, you gave Leah a blank look. 

“I-…”

Raising her eyes to meet you, the skipper straightened her back out, nerves rising as she took note of how rigid your posture was- how distant you were from her despite only being a few feet apart.

As you realized she wasn’t going to say anything, you decided to confront her on what had been on your mind throughout the second half of the game.

“You wanna explain what I heard at half-time? Because I’d really love to hear how you plan to spin this one on me this time…”

The deer-in-headlights look you got in return let you know she knew exactly what you were talking about.

At half time, just as the players were headed back in, a young fan had nearly begged Leah to sign her jersey. 

Never one to say no to a supporter of women’s soccer, much less of Arsenal and a young teen, Leah had quickly veered off, making small talk with the girl as she signed and posed for a photo.

Everything had been smooth sailing really, in fact, you watched the whole interaction with a smile on your face as you approached the tunnel.

Too bad good things never lasted.

Just as Leah had been ready to walk away from the stands, the young girl had innocently asked the question that had changed your whole mood.

The high pitched voice asking whether you and Leah were dating had easily carried over to you, repeating in your head since, a broken tape recorder you just couldn’t turn off.

What stuck with you however, was the Gunner’s response- the immediate scoff, zero hesitation or regret on her face as the words ‘absolutely not…she’s not my type’ escaped her. Words that were followed by a shrug and a cheeky grin that haunted you for the second half. 

You always had a feeling you weren’t good enough for her, your insecurity a topic of conversation for many nights in the past- nights where the blonde spent countless hours convincing and proving otherwise. 

Now though? Now it all felt like a lie- recollections of all those middle-of-the-night cuddles and hushed conversations making your heart heavy with the way her denial of your relationship came so quickly, so easily. 

Maybe this wasn’t meant to be, not as much you had wished it was.

Since the start of your relationship, when going out, whether it was with the team or just the two of you, Leah would distance herself from you, never sitting beside you even though she claimed you two were the bestest of friends. Choosing to be anybody else’s partner during media days. Hell, even going as far as standing on the opposite side to you during pre-match photos. And you’d be lying if you said it didn’t twist the knife in your chest just a little bit more each time that it happened.

If you were honest, you didn’t know how much bigger you could let the gaping wound get, unsure of whether your heart could handle another twist.

It’s why your next words physically hurt you to say, your voice quiet, its echo ringing in your ears.

“if you’re really that embarrassed of me, maybe we shouldn’t even be together…”

A shiver runs through your spine as you continue to look at Leah.

The admission feels heavy, the bright lights of the room unable to lift the somber mood in the slightest.

You can see a shuddering breath wrack her body at your words, and you can feel the distance between you two growing, mere feet feeling like hundreds of metres, goosebumps rising as the room grows significantly colder.

The reply comes slow, but the intensity, the anger, the defence in her voice at the words nearly knocks you back.

“It’s not like that…” 

The words are emotion laced, Leah’s head tilted to the side as her eyes search your face for any indication of what’s on your mind.

“Really? Then what’s it like? Is it just going to be you denying our relationship till the end? Is it just going to be you getting cozy with another girl and calling me clingy and overreactive? Is it just going to be you claiming you’ve done nothing wrong? Telling Lia that I’m going through something?” 

Shaking your head, a wry smile crossed your face. “Don’t be surprised- at least Wally cared enough to make sure I was doing okay, y’know? Something you haven’t asked me once.

“I didn’t know if you wanted me near you…” The timid admission had you shaking your head, displeased with her response.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, eyes closing as you tried to hold back your frustration, you spoke.

“Thats the issue Leah….you just don’t fucking know. You don’t know what you want. You don’t know how this relationship is going to work. You don’t know when you want to tell everyone we’re together. You don’t see how much it hurts me every time you deny that we are anything more than teammates, even friends! You just so happen to not know you’re breaking my heart each and every goddamn day!”

Chest heaving in frustration, you swallowed hard, you ears heating up in embarrassment of your outburst, eyes going everywhere but to the girl in front of you.

 It’s as you contemplate your next words that the blonde sees your anger turn to sadness, eyes dropping, shoulders sinking.

“You know what? I think- I think we’re done Leah.” 

Your voice was a whisper, the words strained, almost as if it cut you to say them.

“I can’t do this. I really can’t…”

“Wait no…”

You shook your head, barely any energy left in you. 

“How many times Leah? How many times are we gonna go back and forth like this? How long do I have to wait for you to get on the same page? It’s nearly been a year for fuck’s sake.”

Taking a deep breath, you grab your bag, your eyes firmly trained on the floor as you side step Leah and take off to your car, not once looking back.

If you had though, you would’ve seen the broken way the taller woman stood at the exit, eyes damp, body rigid in shock, fists clenched at her sides as she struggled to process what had just happened. 

Being snapped out of her daze at the slam of the door shutting by its own weight, the blonde came back to reality, the weight of your words finally sinking in. 

Swallowing hard as the alarm bells went off in her head, she turned on her heel, yanking the door open and running to follow you.

You are nowhere to be found though, she makes her way to the carpark, just to notice you pull out of your spot, not an ounce of hesitation in your actions. 

Hearing a pair of footsteps beside her though, ones that were most definitely not yours, Leah tensed at the thought of another person’s presence where you should be standing.

Glancing over to see Lia, the English captain tightened her jaw, closing her eyes in an unsuccessful attempt to hide just how broken she felt right now. 

“She told me to give this to you- said something about having an issue to attend to…” The words came out quiet from Lia, your set of keys for Leah’s home in her hold, dangling in the space between the two national captains, nearly mockingly.

Voice dropping an octave, Lia decided she had enough of the wait, eyes growing in concern at her counterpart’s disheveled look.

“Leah what’s going on between you two? She seemed pretty upset leaving…”

Swallowing, the Gunner knew she had her chance to come clean, to finally admit to herself that she hurt you, more than she ever thought she would.

Instead though, she didn’t- the idea of saying out loud that you left her too unbearably painful to speak into existence.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged instead, schooling her own expression into a somewhat relaxed one, “we didn’t talk much in the locker room, she seemed pretty stressed in there.”

Raising her eyebrows, Lia didn’t seem to buy it but she didn’t push and Leah didn’t know whether to feel relieved or not.

Grabbing the keys firmly from the Swiss’ hold, Leah turned towards the locker rooms once more, this time not bothering to wipe her tears as they fell, glad for the lack of footsteps behind her. 

With no idea as to where you went or when you would be back, she had no option but to wait and hope it would be soon- soon enough that she could rectify her mistakes and make you hers again- the best thing she ever had, gone, just like that.

~

(read part ii here)

[pia55tri]

“I just moved to my new Monaco apartment, but the removal company refused to carry my mattress upstairs, you live in my building, can you help me?”

thank you, anon, for sending this prompt in and all the other prompts 🫶

It’s just the universe laughing at him, really, that he’s gone and knocked on the neighbour’s door and it opens to Carlos Sainz Jr.’s perfect fucking face. In Monaco.

Oscar doesn’t even know why he’s so surprised. It was Lando who recommended this building to him, a little away from the more busy centre of the little-big city of Monaco. He said he needed it to be subtle, he needed a little bit of air. And Lando, who thrives in the bustle and chaos of the metro, immediately went, Ah! I know the place for you, mate. Check it out? Oscar did and it was perfect. And of course, he should have known that the place was exactly to his standards and needs because Lando heard about it from Carlos, who Lando has always liked saying is very similar to Oscar in all the ways that matter but that Oscar refuses to acknowledge.

“Oscar,” Carlos says with a pleasant inflection that mollifies the brief spike in Oscar’s heart rate. “What a happy surprise. Are you living here, now?”

And Oscar just looks at him with wide eyes. Oscar is still in his crumpled airport clothes and smelling of the sun and desperate for a nap. Carlos is — His hair is a mess about his head. His cheeks are covered with scruff darker than Oscar is used to seeing. And he’s shirtless, flushed lines all over his skin like he was just in bed. And. He looks like he smells like… fresh sheets or pancakes. Luxury cologne.

“Erm. Yeah. Yes. I just moved in today, actually. Actually, I knocked because,” he cringes, “because I needed someone’s help and you were the neighbour…” And, really! He should be grateful his neighbour just so happened to be someone who actually spoke the one language he could speak  and not one of the many languages he didn’t. “The moving company left my mattress downstairs and I was thinking of getting maintenance to help bring it up, but they’re all busy right now. I just. I need help.”

(Somewhere in the city, Lando Norris is laughing at him.)

Carlos patiently listens throughout his long, winding plea, and then, finally, nods, and says, “Sure. Let me just put a shirt on.”

“Right,” Oscar says.

Carlos doesn’t even bother closing his door, so Oscar stands there and tries not to watch his muscles moving as he tugs on a shirt that pulls tight around his unfortunately well-shaped biceps.

“Stairs?” he asks.

They’re not anywhere near the ground floor. So, of course, Oscar can’t turn down a challenge like that, and he says, dumbly, “Sure.”

That is how Oscar finds himself not staring at Carlos’s broad shoulders as they make their winding way down too many flights of stairs.

Oscar doesn’t even know what they talk about as they go. All he can think about is how warm it is in the stairwell, and how it makes Carlos’s lilting accent bounce around and settle into the folds of his brains. It must be the jetlag. Or the Monégasque heat. Or the insanity his sisters have always sworn he had.

When they get to the lobby, his mattress is exactly where the moving company had left it, laid mortifyingly out in the open. Thankfully, it is the middle of the day and no other residents are walking about the place to bear witness to this entire thing. Together, they haul the mattress to where it miraculously fits inside the elevator and pick up a rather lovely conversation that Oscar isn’t used to having outside a long plane-ride or at one of someone or other’s parties. What he is used to is ignoring how Carlos’s biceps bulge every time he moves or how his plush lips fall open when he breathes.

When they manoeuvre the mattress around his, actually rather sparse, furniture and onto his bedframe, Oscar is so relieved and grateful that he doesn’t even blush about his underwear lying on the floor of his room.

“Thank you,” he says, kicking a pair of Calvin Kleins behind himself. He tries for a smile. “Really appreciate it, mate.”

“It’s nothing,” Carlos shrugs.

“No, it’s really not,” he insists, leading them to the kitchen. “Actually, do you want to stay for lunch? It’s really the least I could do.”

Carlos raises his brow. “So polite?”

Oscar is about to say something smart when he abruptly shuts his mouth and spins back around from the empty fridge to face Carlos. “I. Erm.”

Carlos looks amused, eyes crinkling at the corners. Oscar can feel the heat radiating off himself.

Carlos laughs easily. “I’ll pick a place and you pay, okay?”

And Oscar nods, calm and cool. “Sure.” He can do that. It’s absolutely normal.

“I’ll drive.”

Oscar keeps nodding. “Erm. Cool.” Very cool. A ride in Carlos’s Ferrari. Nice. Cool. Chill.

But then, Carlos winks and says, “It’s a date.”

And Oscar, helpless, charmed, does not swoon. Instead, he says, “Yeah.”

[stucky-fic-prompt]

Okay, but, like, hear me out.

Steve and Bucky planning this prank against Sam, or Nat, and falling for each other

Someone should make this a real fic 💜

@zenaidamacrouras1 and I would love you forever 💜

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

Hiii

Would you be able to (when you have the time) write a little! reader and Mama Agatha fic where the little is trying to use magic and be big but accidentally breaks something and doesn't want to tell Agatha so they run and hide in their room, then Agatha finds them crying and comforts them. Sorry I know it is very specific I went on a bit of a tangent. Anyways all good if this idea doesn't interest you just thought I'd put it out there.

Cg!Agatha x Little!Reader - Powers

Word count: 602

——————————

Mama had been helping you get better at using your powers for a few months now and you were really, really good. At least she always told you that. Still, you were not under any circumstances allowed to use them without Mama. Especially if you were feeling small. This was super annoying because your powers were so cool and right now you thought they would be very helpful to get the remote off the coffee table. The cartoons you’d been watching had switched to a strange show you’d never seen before and so you wanted to change it back. But you were very comfortable with your stuffies and blankies on the couch and if you could just be a big girl for a few seconds you could definitely move the remote with your powers. Carefully you used your powers to lift the remote up, you were a bit shaky as you guided it towards you but you had it under control, until you didn’t. The remote dropped right above Agatha’s favourite vase, sending it crashing off the coffee table with a loud bang. You jump at the sound, eyes widening as you see the mess you’ve made. Your mama will be so upset.

“Baby? Are you ok?” Agatha called from the kitchen. You panicked and scrambled off the couch and to your bedroom. Tears were burning in your eyes as you quickly hid under your bed covers. At least here Mama could never ever find you. You’d have to hide for a hundred years until she forgot or decided to blame the cat. You felt a bit bad though, you didn’t want to get the cat in trouble. There was a knock on the door and you pulled your covers tighter over your head. “Bunny, are you in here?” Agatha called out.

“No,” you replied, hoping to drive Mama away.

“Oh? My baby isn't here?” You shook your head firmly. Despite telling her you weren’t in your room, your Mama opened the door. “My love, where are you?” Agatha called and you burrowed under the covers further. “Well, you clearly aren’t on the bed,” Agatha sighed dramatically before reaching her hand under the covers and tickling your leg. You squealed and squirmed away from Mama’s grasp but she ripped the sheets away and pulled you into her arms. “Oh there you are!” She gasped dramatically, “I could’ve sworn someone said you weren’t in here.” You sniffled, rubbing at the tears on your cheeks. “Why were you hiding baby?” Agatha asked, her voice gentler now. She carefully pulled you into her lap, pressing gentle kisses to the tear tracks on your cheeks.

“Didn’t wanna get in trouble,” you admitted quietly, your voice wobbling.

“Oh? For using your powers?” You nod,

“And for breaking the vase.” Agatha sighed softly, carding her hand through your hair.

“Well, as far as the vase is concerned, Mama can fix that up for you in just a flick of her wrist?”

“With your purple?” You questioned eagerly.

“Yes, that’s right baby. And as for using your powers, you’re not in trouble.” You sighed a breath of relief at this. “But I need you to understand why mama says no powers without me watching. I don’t mind if something breaks, but I do mind if my baby gets hurt, ok?” You nod in understanding. Agatha gently guided your head down to rest on her chest. “You could’ve gotten hurt today and it’s mama's job to keep her baby safe which is why we have rules right?”

“Yes mama,” you hum in understanding. “Sorry mama.”

“It’s ok bunny, mama understands.”

[isacksteban]

ok but i need an oscar piastri-leclerc fic where he isnt a leclerc because charles adopted him but because he married arthur and cha is covering for them

[kinardsevan]

soooo... has anyone written any fics about when Evan actually tells Tommy about the lightning strike? Because I have the feels for it right now and would read it (or write it. but preferably read it).

[willowfae82]

so y'all know shows like Leverage, and Person of Interest, and White Collar, right. and how the characters like help the 'little guy'.

i need fic where the team helps people-of-the-week and like a year (give or take) later the team needs help (blah blah plot thing blah) so like all the people they've helped kinda come together to help get the team out of the situation. and the team is all 'wha... how... who...' like they don't understand what just happened.

is there a trope name for this. or does anyone know of any stories with this idea.

[momo-the-ace]

feral akari from @lostwysteria 's fic. I love this fic sm you don't understand. I love feral fics. can't wait till the next chapter!!! <3

[baekhyunsbestie]

⟢ : RIDE !? ★.ᐟ

exo x f!reader ; the exos wanna take u for a ride! ⟢ requested by this qt anonie <3 ty babie!

content: 18+/mdni. 4.4k+ words. explicit language. unprotected p in v. teasing. edging. possessiveness. power dynamics. hair pulling. lil bit of manhandling. breeding kink. praise kink.

⟢ BOY NEXT DOOR!

ft. neighbor!jongin

you’ve spent the last six months watching him.

late nights on your balcony, pretending not to notice when he steps out onto his own, shirtless, damp with sweat from the gym, his muscles still flushed with exertion. the way the city lights skim over his skin, highlighting the sharp ridges of his collarbones, the deep cut of his abs. mornings in the hallway, his cologne thick in the air, clinging to your senses, making your stomach tighten as you pass the spot where he just stood. accidental run-ins—mailboxes, grocery store aisles, the slow, stifling pause of the elevator—each one leaving you burning, aching, drenched in something unspoken.

jongin has always been just out of reach, the kind of man who makes you want to fucking sin.

but tonight? tonight, there’s nothing stopping you. no teasing glances, no careful distance, no heavy pauses thick with restraint. just the weight of his body pressing you into the couch, the sharp gasp you let out as he fills you, stretching you wide, stuffing you full.

“fuck—” he groans, head dropping back, fingers digging bruises into your hips. his jaw is tight, his breath ragged, sharp exhales punched through parted lips as he watches you take him, inch by inch, walls clenching around the perfect shape of him, struggling to accommodate the stretch.

he’s thick, perfect, the kind of dick made to ruin you—veined and hot, a slight curve that drags against every sensitive spot inside you as you roll your hips, the drag slow, devastating.

“been thinking about this, haven’t you?” you tease, nails tracing down his abs, feeling the way they flex beneath your touch, the way he shudders as you squeeze around him.

his grip tightens, his head falling forward, breath hot against your skin. “baby, you have no fucking idea.”

his voice is wrecked, like he’s been aching for this just as long as you have—like the months of stolen glances, the late-night tension, the whispered fantasies have all been leading to this moment. but you’re not done teasing him yet.

you lift up, just enough for the head of his cock to press right against your entrance, before sinking down slow, letting out a soft, breathy moan as he stretches you open again, the sweet, gummy walls of your cunt hugging him tight, sucking him back in.

jongin curses, hands gripping your ass, his restraint hanging by a thread.

“stop fucking teasing,” he growls, and then his patience snaps.

he thrusts up, sharp and deep, splitting you open on his cock, making you choke on your next breath. his mouth crashes against yours, messy, desperate, his tongue curling against yours as he fucks up into you, relentless, unyielding.

your moan shatters against his lips, nails raking down his chest as he grips your hips and fucks up into you, meeting every roll of your body with a brutal thrust, driving deeper, harder, until you're gasping, barely able to breathe.

“wanted to take my time with you,” he pants, voice thick, dripping with possession, “but you just had to push me, didn’t you?”

another sharp thrust, another, your vision going hazy, heat pooling low in your belly, your walls fluttering around him, gripping him like you never want to let him go.

jongin smirks, breathless, chest heaving.

“let’s see if you can keep up.”

⟢ GYM SESH!

ft. personal trainer!chanyeol

this is so, so wrong.

not just because he’s your trainer, but because you know exactly what you’re doing—showing up to every session in leggings so tight they might as well be painted on, stretching just a little too provocatively, letting your eyes linger on him like he’s the one being watched. you stay long after your workouts end, pretending to scroll through your phone, pretending not to notice the way his jaw tightens, the way his fingers flex at his sides like he’s resisting the urge to put them on you.

and tonight, his patience finally snaps.

“this what you wanted?” chanyeol’s voice is a low, guttural growl, his grip bruising as he pins you down in the dim glow of the gym’s back office. his hands clamp around your waist, firm, unyielding, refusing to let you set the pace—even though you’re the one straddling him. his chest heaves, restraint hanging by a thread, his dark eyes heavy with something feral.

you smirk, nails dragging down his abs, feeling them tense under your touch as you roll your hips slow, deliberate, teasing. “what’s wrong, trainer? thought you were all about discipline.”

his nostrils flare. his fingers twitch. you barely get a second to process before his grip tightens and—fuck—he slams you down onto him, hard, knocking the breath from your lungs. your gasp is swallowed by his mouth, lips hot, desperate, devouring you like he’s been starving for this moment since the day you walked into his gym.

his head drops to your shoulder, his breath a ragged, uneven thing against your skin. “discipline?” he huffs out a breathless laugh, his next thrust sharp, punishing, leaving you clawing at his shoulders. “sweetheart, i’ve spent every fucking session holding back from bending you over that weight bench and fucking you stupid.”

your breath stutters. your nails dig deeper. but he’s not done with you yet.

his grip slides up, fingers threading into your hair, tugging, forcing your head back just enough to make sure you see him. his smirk is dark, lazy, and devastatingly cocky.“ya wanna test my limits?” his voice is a low rasp, gravel and heat, as his hips roll into you again, deeper, rougher, at a pace that has you whimpering. “then let’s see how long that bratty little mouth can last before it’s begging me for mercy.”

⟢ SITUATIONSHIP!

ft. fwb!sehun

you shouldn’t be here. not like this.

not after ghosting his texts. not after ignoring his calls. not after spending weeks pretending like this was nothing—like he was nothing.

but then tonight happened.

you went out hoping to forget him, hoping the flashing lights and the bass rattling the floorboards would drown out the sound of his voice still echoing in your head. you let strangers put their hands on you, let them whisper things in your ear, let them try to make you feel something—anything—but they weren’t him. none of them could touch you the way he did, could look at you like they already knew how you’d fall apart.

and then—his hands. his voice. his body pressing against yours in the crowd like he had been waiting for this moment.

“you can run all you want, baby,” he had murmured, lips barely grazing your ear, voice laced with amusement, with hunger. his fingers ghosted up your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “but we both know you belong right here with me.”

and now you’re here. in his bed. straddling him, his grip bruising against your thighs as you roll your hips slow, teasing, making him feel every inch of you, every deliberate shift of your body as you take him.

his jaw is tight, lips parted, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths as he watches you—watches the way your lashes flutter, the way your nails dig into his chest, the way you shiver from the drag of him stretching you open.

his fingers twitch on your waist, a silent warning. you can feel it—the way he’s barely holding on, the way he wants to snap, to pin you down and take what’s his. but he’s waiting. waiting to see how far you’ll push him.

“fuck,” he grits out, head falling back against the pillows. “you don’t even know what you do to me.”

you smirk, dragging your nails down his torso, watching the way his abs tense beneath your touch.

“then show me.”

his eyes snap open, dark, burning, locked onto yours.

“baby, you don’t want that.”

oh, but you do.

you grind down harder, meeting his thrusts, pushing him, teasing him, testing just how much restraint he has left. his breath stutters. his grip tightens. and then—

his fingers snap around your waist, and suddenly, you’re not in control anymore.

“ya think you can just disappear on me and come back like this?” he growls, sitting up in one swift motion, arm curling around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. his other hand fists into your hair, yanking just hard enough to tilt your head back, baring your throat to him.

his lips brush against your jaw as he rolls his hips up into you—deep, sharp, deliberate. you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders.

“nah, baby.” his voice is low, rough, dangerous. “can’t get away from me that easily.”

his grip tightens, his next thrust knocking the breath from your lungs. his smirk presses against your lips, his voice a rough groan as he mutters,

“if you wanted me this bad, you should’ve just fucking said so.”

⟢ BAD GIRL!

ft. angry boyfie!kyungsoo

it starts with an argument.

not a loud one—kyungsoo doesn’t yell. he doesn’t have to. his words are sharp, precise, cutting through the air like a blade. his eyes are colder than any raised voice could ever be. you’ve been testing him all night, pushing, prodding, waiting for him to snap. you know exactly what will make his jaw tighten, what will make his fingers flex like he wants to grab you, wants to break you in the best way possible—but won’t.

not yet.

but then you push too far.

you don’t even know who moves first. one second, you’re glaring at him from the other end of the couch, throwing some smart-ass remark his way, and the next, you’re straddling him, his grip bruising against your hips, his body burning beneath you.

“tell me, baby. did you want to start a fight, or did you just want me to fuck you stupid?” his voice is low, rough, thick with something that sends a shiver down your spine as you grind down on him. his hands tighten—a warning.

you smirk, dragging your nails down his chest, feeling the way his abs flex beneath your touch. “you’re the one who told me to sit down and behave.” you roll your hips slow, deliberate, watching the way his breath hitches, the way his brows furrow. “so i’m just doing what you said, ‘soo.”

his head falls back, a deep groan slipping from his lips. his hands flex on your waist, his control hanging by a thread.

“fuck—baby, slow down,” he grits out, but you don’t listen.

you plant your hands on his shoulders, using him for leverage, riding him the way you know will ruin him, the way you know will make him break. his jaw clenches, his fingers twitch—his last attempt at restraint before his dark eyes snap open, locking onto yours, something burning, dangerous flickering in them.

“i said slow the fuck down.”

you don’t. you grind down harder, feeling the way he twitches inside you, the way his breath turns ragged, uneven.

and then his patience shatters.

his hands fly to your back, yanking you against his chest, his mouth grazing your ear as he growls, “you really don’t fucking listen, do you?”

before you can even smirk, he’s fucking up into you, hard and unforgiving.

the air leaves your lungs in a sharp gasp, your nails biting into his skin as pleasure rips through you. his moans break against your neck, his breath hot, his thrusts deep, ruthless, punishing.

“gonna cum inside you,” he groans, voice wrecked, almost desperate, his grip on your waist turning bruising. “gonna fill ya up—fuck—gonna make sure you know exactly who you belong to.”

his words send you spiraling. pleasure crashes over you, your moans tangled with his name, and when you clench around him, drag him under with you, his head drops to your shoulder, his body shaking beneath you as he lets himself go completely.

⟢ GIMME! GIMME! GIMME!

ft. sugar daddy!junmyeon

he’s a fucking mess beneath you—trembling, muscles pulled taut, fingers digging into your thighs so hard they’ll leave bruises, reminders of just how good you wrecked him. but that’s not what makes your lips curl—it’s the way his head is thrown back, his chest rising and falling in frantic, uneven breaths, lips parted as wrecked, broken moans spill from them. he’s close, so fucking close, but you’re not giving it to him. not yet.

“princess, please—” his voice is ruined, raw with need as you slow to an agonizing grind, rolling your hips just enough to keep him on edge, never enough to push him over. his abs flex, his breath stutters, his hands fly to your waist, desperate to take control, to make you move faster, but you’re quicker. you grab his wrists, pinning them to the mattress, nails biting into his skin.

“ah ah. not yet,” you murmur, tilting your head, watching his expression twist with frustration, watching his lashes flutter as he groans, caught between pleasure and pure torture.

“fuck—why are you doing this to me?” he chokes out, his voice wrecked, his body arching beneath you, every muscle coiled so fucking tight he might snap.

you lean in, dragging your lips along his jaw, letting your teeth sink into the sensitive skin just below his ear, making him gasp, making his hips jerk up in search of friction.

“because you look so pretty when you beg.”

his breath shudders, his fingers flex beneath your grip, hips rolling up again, desperate, needy, on the verge of breaking completely.

“princesss, please,” he whimpers, voice so sweet, so wrecked it sends a thrill straight through you. “i’ll do anything. please—please just lemme cum inside you.”

you hum, dragging your nails down his chest, reveling in the way he shivers beneath your touch.

“anything?”

he nods frantically, barely coherent, pupils blown wide, body completely fucked out. “yes, fuck—yes, anything.”

you pause for effect, let your lips ghost over his, let your breath fan against his swollen, parted mouth.

“even giving me your black card?”

his head snaps up, eyes wide with desperation. for a split second, he hesitates—but then, without a second thought—

“take it. take all of it. fuck—just please, princess, lemme fucking cum.”

and that? that’s when you finally give in.

you slam your hips down, riding him so hard his entire body jolts beneath you. his moan is strangled, torn from deep in his chest, his grip bruising as he clings to you, body shaking, gasping, begging as he falls apart completely—spilling inside you, wrecked, ruined, yours.

⟢ WASSUP, BULLET?

ft. streetracer!baekhyun

the roar of the engines is still ringing in your ears.

you should’ve won. you would have won—if baekhyun hadn’t played dirty, cutting you off right before the final stretch, forcing you to slam the brakes for half a second, just enough time for him to slip past and take the victory right out from under you.

and now, you’re paying for it.

his garage is dim, lit only by flickering overhead bulbs and the glow of neon signs from the street outside. the scent of burnt rubber and motor oil lingers thick in the air, but it’s not enough to mask the heat still simmering between you. baekhyun is sprawled back against the worn leather couch, legs spread, posture easy, confident—like he knew you’d end up here, right where he wanted you.

his smirk hasn’t left his face since the moment he crossed that finish line ahead of you, since the second he pulled you onto his lap, his hands resting lazily on your thighs, owning his victory.

but now? now you’re about to wipe it off his face.

he’s got one hand pinning your wrists behind your back, keeping you caged against him, your body at his mercy. his free hand drags up your side, featherlight, teasing, making you squirm.

“shoulda been faster, baby,” he drawls, voice dripping with amusement, fingers ghosting along your ribs, your waist, the curve of your ass. “now you gotta take it like a good loser.”

your glare is sharp, burning, but he just grins, dark eyes flickering with something dangerous.

and then—you sink down onto him.

his smirk falters. his breath catches. his fingers twitch against your waist like he’s trying to hold it together, but he’s already losing. his head falls back against the couch, a low, wrecked groan spilling from his lips as you take him in, inch by inch, until you’re fully seated, hips flush against his.

his jaw clenches, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths, but his grip stays firm—still cocky, still trying to act like this isn’t already unraveling him.

so you lean in, lips just shy of brushing his, your smirk razor-sharp.

“bet you’ll cum first.”

his breath stutters, but then his smirk flares back to life, his grip tightening, grounding himself.

“oh, baby,” he exhales, voice dark, a slow, knowing grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “you have no idea what you just started.”

and so the bet begins.

he fights it—teeth sinking into his bottom lip, jaw tight, muscles coiled, strained. his hands grip your waist, bruising, desperate, but he doesn’t give in. not yet.

you move against him, rolling your hips slow, deep, keeping the pressure steady, relentless. his head tilts back, brows furrowing, throat bobbing with every ragged breath he tries to suppress, but he still has that look. that cocky glint, like he thinks he can outlast you. like he really believes he can beat you at your own game.

but the longer it goes, the worse he breaks.

his fingers dig into your waist, harder, thighs tensing beneath you, muscles twitching under your touch. his abs flex beneath your fingertips, every sharp exhale slipping through gritted teeth, but he still won’t let go.

“you’re not—” he huffs, voice wrecked, his head snapping forward to meet your gaze, eyes dark, wild, desperate. “i’m not gonna fucking lose—”

but then you grind down harder, meeting his thrusts with something shameless, devastating, rolling your hips just right, and—

he chokes on his own breath.

his body jerks, grip slipping, muscles locking tight as a strangled groan rips from his throat.

“ah, fuck—” his voice breaks, sharp, raw, his head snapping back as his whole body shudders, finally giving in. his fingers dig into your hips like he can’t believe it’s happening, like he’s angry at himself for losing, but he can’t stop. his hips stutter, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he spills inside you, heat pooling deep, overwhelming.

for a long moment, the only sound in the garage is your combined breathing—heavy, shaky, wrecked.

and then—you smirk.

your nails drag down his chest, slow, teasing, reveling in the way his body still trembles beneath you, the way his breath hitches when your fingers ghost over his abs.

he’s wrecked. hair damp, cheeks flushed, chest heaving—but even now, he’s still looking at you like he wants more. like he wants everything.

“looks like i win, b,” you murmur, voice thick with satisfaction, your smirk curling as you taunt him.

baekhyun lets out a breathless laugh, head tilting back against the couch, running a hand through his messy, sweat-dampened hair. but when he looks at you again, something softens—just for a second.

god, you’re so fucking cute.

he could do this forever with you. the teasing, the bets, the tension, the way you push him just to see him snap. he could spend every damn night like this, your body tangled against his, your smirk driving him insane, your fingers dragging across his skin like you own him.

because maybe you do.

his hands slide up your thighs, his thumbs brushing soft, lazy circles against your skin as his lips part, as he watches you with something darker, deeper, heavier than just lust.

“best two outta three?” he murmurs, voice hoarse, hopeful, his grip tightening like he’s already decided—there’s no fucking way he’s letting you go yet.

⟢ AFTER HOURS!

ft. work crush!minseok

you never imagined you’d end up like this—straddling him on his couch, his hands gripping your hips, his breath shallow and ragged as he watches you move. not here, not with him. the work crush who always seemed untouchable, composed to the point of frustration, always tucked behind crisp suits and sharp professionalism. but even then, something about him had always kept you on edge—the way his gaze lingered just a second too long, the flicker of something darker beneath that quiet intensity.

it started innocent. a passing flirtation across the conference table. stolen glances when no one else was looking. the way his lips would twitch at your laugh, like he wasn’t supposed to enjoy it as much as he did.

but this? this is anything but innocent.

“fuck—” he groans, voice thick with lust, fingers curling into your skin as he guides your hips, slow, controlled, but barely. his eyes are dark, burning, drinking in the way you sink down on him, the way your body clenches around his cock. his control is slipping, unraveling, and you love it.

“minseok,”  you murmur, dragging your nails down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. his breath stutters, a sharp inhale through clenched teeth. “always so composed at work, but look at you now.”

he swallows hard, jaw tight, trying to hold himself together. “don’t tease me,” he warns, voice low, but it’s not a threat—it’s a plea.

you smirk, leaning in, letting your lips brush against his ear as you roll your hips, slow and deliberate. “i think you like it.” your voice is pure sin, soft, teasing. you feel him twitch inside you, feel the way his grip tightens like he’s seconds away from snapping. “you’re not so perfect when it’s just the two of us, are you?”

his breath hitches—just for a second—but you hear it. you feel it.

and then suddenly, you’re not on top anymore.

with one fluid motion, he flips you, your back hitting the couch as he looms over you, pressing you into the cushions, caging you beneath him. his face is inches from yours, eyes wild, dark with something that makes your stomach twist in anticipation.

“you act so confident,” he murmurs, voice dripping with authority, laced with something raw, something desperate. “but you have no idea i’m ‘bout to ruin you.”

his hand fists into the fabric of the couch beside your head, the other gripping your thigh, spreading you wider. and then—

he thrusts into you, hard, deep, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke.

the air is knocked from your lungs, a choked gasp slipping past your lips as pleasure rips through you. he’s relentless, pounding into you with none of the restraint he usually carries, none of the careful control you’ve come to associate with him.

“fuck—” you whimper, fingers clawing at his back, trying to hold onto something, anything. but he’s ruthless, dragging you closer, forcing you to take him, to feel every inch.

his teeth graze your throat, his breath hot against your skin as he growls, “tell me you’re mine.”

his hips snap forward, hard enough to make you see stars, and you can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but moan.

“say it.”

“i’m yours,” you gasp, voice breaking, wrecked and desperate. “fuck, min, i’m yours.”

that’s all it takes.

his grip tightens, his thrusts turning brutal, ragged, like he’s been waiting for this, for you, for far too long. he pins you down, body pressed flush against yours, fucking you like the world outside doesn’t exist, like the only thing that matters is the way you take him, the way you fall apart beneath him.

you’re not his colleague anymore. you’re his.

and he’s not letting go.

⟢ BRAKE CHECK!

ft. mechanic!yixing

you've been showing up at yixing’s garage with a new excuse every time. a weird noise. a rattling that doesn’t exist. the brakes feeling off. you know it’s bullshit. he knows it’s bullshit. but he never calls you out—just fixes what doesn’t need fixing, all while giving you that quiet, knowing smirk.

but today, when you show up again, he doesn’t even bother looking at your car. instead, he leans against the hood, arms crossed, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“so, what is it this time?”

“it’s, uuuhhh… making a sound?” you try, but it’s weak, and you both know it.

yixing huffs a laugh, shaking his head before stepping closer—so close you can feel the heat rolling off him. “sweetheart, you’re a terrible liar.”

before you can stammer out some pathetic excuse, he grabs your wrist, tugging you through the garage, straight into his office. the moment the door clicks shut, he has you caged against it, one hand braced above your head, the other gripping your waist.

“you could’ve just told me what you really wanted,” he murmurs, his voice low, teasing, “would’ve saved you all this trouble.”

his fingers slide down to your hips, gripping, squeezing, pulling you against him. you can feel him—hard, ready, just as desperate as you are.

“is this why you keep coming back?” he breathes, lips brushing your jaw as his hands slip lower, over your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto his desk.

“maybe,” you tease, breath hitching when he nudges your legs apart.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “cute.”

then he’s on you—mouth hot, hands rough, grip firm as he pulls you closer, fingers digging into your skin like he’s trying to memorize the feel of you. you ride him right there, his hands guiding you, gripping your ass, bruising your thighs as he watches you fall apart for him.

“oh, fuck, baby,” he groans, voice wrecked, “all those fake car problems, just so i could fuck you like this?”

his hands keep you grounded, keep you moving, every roll of your hips making his control slip further.

“didn’t peg you for the type to whimper, yixing.” you taunt, dragging your nails down his chest.

his grip tightens—hard enough to make you gasp. “ya keep running that mouth, and we’ll see if you can still walk out of here.”

the orgasm rips through you fast, his name tumbling from your lips, his hands keeping you steady as he fucks you through it, chasing his own release.

when it’s over, when you’re spent and breathless in his lap, he lets out a lazy, satisfied sigh, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before smirking up at you.

“so, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement, “what’s gonna be wrong with your car next week?”

you smirk back, dragging your fingers through his messy hair. “guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

[updownlately]

i'm so furious (at you for making me feel this way)

| leah williamson x reader | a little sprinkle of angst, a little hint of fluff | 2.4k | a/n: another req! this one's based off the song 'gorgeous' by taylor swift and as usual, it's not at all proofread. honestly took a completely different direction as i was writing it but eh. to whoever requested it, my bad it took a while- hope you like it! happy reading folks!

~~~

“What? You’re not gonna say ‘hi’?”

Eyes rolling at the cocky voice directed your way, you shook your head slightly, walking faster as you ignored the woman standing in front of you. 

You really didn’t have the energy to deal with this now, not after how exhausting your past few days, months, really had been.

Intending on joining the rest of your team at the table without a fuss, you brushed by her without as much as a second glance, letting out a breath as you got away.

Or so you thought. 

You didn’t make it more than a couple steps past her before you felt an all too familiar hand wrap around your wrist, your moments stilling at the force. 

Huffing, you didn’t bother turning around, instead choosing to speak loudly so you wouldn’t have to look at her. 

“Leah, let me go…”

“Stay a minute? Let me buy you a drink.”

You could feel the smirk in her voice as she spoke, it already infuriating you as it had many times before, this time without you even having to see it. 

Clenching your jaw, you dropped your voice, still looking straight ahead, nearly empty glass held precariously in your other hand.

“I’m not in the mood to talk.”

Hearing a scoff in response, you made a move to tug your wrist out of her grip, failing to do so as it instead tightened slightly.  

“Not in the mood to talk, yet you’re talking to everyone here but me?”

The accusation was followed by a laugh but you knew Leah well enough to know she was anything but joking. 

Turning around to meet ocean blue eyes, you pursed your lips as you narrowed your eyebrows, not in the mood for any of the midfielder’s shenanigans. 

“Take it as a compliment…”

With that, you twisted your arm sharply, effectively breaking out of her hold as she held your gaze. 

“And what would be the compliment exactly? You hate me enough to ignore me?”

You froze slightly as she took a step closer, letting out a shaky breath as her piercing eyes peered into yours. 

Swallowing hard, mind racing with memories of when you used to look into these exact pair of eyes fondly, having been teased by your shared teammates thousands of times, you felt your heart tighten slightly, a dull ache making itself known. 

Trying to seem nonchalant, you shrugged in response, your slightly intoxicated state causing the following words to slip out of your mouth before you could even think about the consequences.

“That you look so gorgeous it makes me mad you aren’t mine…” You mumbled bitterly. 

The ‘anymore’ goes unsaid, but you know she heard it too, her head tilting as a small smile crossed her face. 

Despite having broken up nearly a year ago, the blonde hadn’t gotten over you. No matter how many people she had met, dates she had been set up on, times she had been asked out, each and every time the English captain tried to get over you, she had failed miserably, always finding herself comparing her companion for the date to you. 

It was getting ridiculous at this point really. Even if she wanted to get over you (spoiler: she didn’t), she couldn’t. 

Memories of the way you’d always shoot the blonde a grin, even in the worst of times, and how you’d always beg her for piggyback rides after games unforgettable to Leah. 

The countless times you had spent late nights and early mornings together, talking about nothing and everything, bodies curled up against one another as an easy air filled the room. 

The innumerable times you had tried (and failed miserably) to teach the blonde how to cook, it always ending up with her banished to sit on the counter as you would try to save the catastrophe she would somehow manage to cause (and later apologise for with infinite cuddles and kisses). 

It was all that was on her mind, a piece of her knowing you had been the one, the one she had and then lost. 

Months of anxiously waiting for you to even be in the same room had led to tonight, dinner and drinks with your and her national teammates, the two teams having just played a friendly in London. And the blonde would be lying if she denied the fact that she had today’s date saved in her calendar since the game had been scheduled.

“Can’t bear talking to you…” you muttered the words under your breath, mind a frenzy with her perfume infiltrating your senses- the same perfume you always loved smelling on the hoodies you’d steal from her years before.

You watched as Leah’s smile disappeared at your words hushed words, a disappointed look taking over her face at your words, the hurt clearly visible. 

Your heart sank as you watched the change. Realising how those words sounded, you quickly began to backpedal. Just because she wasn’t yours anymore didn’t mean you cared any less for her. 

Stammering out, you blushed in embarrassment as the words fell from your lips.

And as you did, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, you should’ve stopped after the fourth drink like your friends had suggested. 

“Can’t say anything to your face because every time I look at you it makes me furious that I’m not over you yet- that I still feel this way even though you’ve moved on…”

Eyes downcast as you trailed off, you curled slightly in on yourself, self-conscious of the feelings you had make known, the knowledge that they were very much one sided unsettling.

It’s why Leah’s retort caught you off guard, the softly whispered words, quiet enough that you almost missed them, tilting your world on its side.

“Who said I have…”

Whipping your head up, you watched the blonde took a sharp breath in, clearly caught off-guard by her own admission. 

Almost believing her for a minute, you shook your head in disagreement. 

“Pictures don’t lie Leah…the girl you were with the other day? All cozied up first at a club, then Ibiza?”

“You keep up with me.” The statement was accompanied with a cheeky grin, the other girl avoiding your question completely. 

Feeling a smile creep up on you at her cheekiness, you clenched your jaw. You couldn’t believe you were falling for her charm again.

“You know what, you have a point…I’ll stop.” The cold words came out cleanly, nearly emotionless as you did your best to give her nothing to work with.

You didn’t know if you could survive falling for her again, and you didn’t want to find out. 

Leah didn’t mind expressing her distaste at your statement however, the protest immediate. “You don’t have to…”

“Oh no but I do- you ruined my life you know?” 

You words were emotion laced this time, mind hazy with the alcohol thrumming through your veins, a stark contrast to your sentence before- the anger you had pent up over the past year finally coming to light. 

“Me?! How?”

“By loving me and then leaving me…by not being mine!”

“You were the one who left! And she’s just a friend, honest!” The Gunner put her hands up in the air, a genuine expression on her face. 

Taking a quick glance behind you and then Leah, you made sure none of your teammates were eavesdropping, well aware of their tendency to blow things out of proportion. 

It’s not like your relationship had been a secret, but you had just never bothered to confirm anything with anyone, too content in your own little bubble to let anyone else take a peak. 

Still, you didn’t need the relentless jesting of your teammates tonight- not after the emotional rollercoaster you were currently on. 

Facing the blonde again, you lowered your voice. “We were just friends too…”

The resounding ‘no’ you received was immediate, Leah’s definitive tone leaving nothing up for debate. “No we weren’t. We never were just friends. You know it.”

“Leah…”

Grabbing your wrist once more, a stern look on her face, Leah hastily pulled you to a dark corner of the bar, you both hidden in the shadows as she turned to face you, eyebrows furrowed in anger, nostrils flaring, a striking change in her demeanour.

“Don’t ‘Leah…’ me. You left. You decided that you were going to move to a whole new country without asking me. You chose a long distance relationship for us without asking me what I thought. You left me. And where did that leave us? Leave me? I can’t even go on a date with someone without thinking of you!”

By now the blonde was breathing heavily as you stared, jaw clenched as you took in her words. 

“You were the one who chose to break up!”

She stepped closer to you, invading your personal space, head slightly down as she met your gaze.

“You signed the contract before we could even talk!”

“You didn’t even bother fighting for us!”

“‘Cause you didn’t even give me a chance to!“

“I-“

“You what?”

The sharp response had your eyes widening, heartbeat racing as your mind remember the chaos of last summer’s transfer window. The way you hadn’t felt at home in London wearing blue. How countless nights were spent apart from your girlfriend, the physical distance between you short, but still feeling like you were kilometres apart.

You had figured that maybe some space would’ve done you some good. It’s why you had decided to quietly sign for Wolfsburg, only telling the blonde after since she had barely been home, had barely talked to you.

Looking back now however, maybe it wasn’t your wisest decision.

Whispering quietly as the realisation hit you like a truck, your eyes widened. 

“I didn’t know…”

All you got in response was the blonde stepping impossibly closer to you, your faces inches away. 

“You wanna know the worst part? I hate that I still miss you everyday. I hate that I still wake up some mornings reaching out to your side of the bed. I hate that the only time I see you is when I see pictures of you online. I hate that the first time I’m seeing you in nearly a year is in a dingy bar with the rest of our drunk teammates milling around when this past year could’ve been so different for us. I hate that I can’t have you. I hate that you aren’t mine”

The frustrated words slowly morphed into those of defeat, leaving you breathless- the declaration, the sentiment of Leah’s words not lost on you. You definitely didn’t expect the night to go like this.

You didn’t know what to say, mind reeling at the fact that you weren’t the only one who hadn’t gotten over your relationship. To be fair, you didn’t know how many people got over a two, nearly three year relationship quickly, but with all the social media posts and the stories you would hear about the blonde from mutual friends, you had figured she moved on pretty quickly.

You’d clearly been wrong though.

“I-”

Pleading ocean blue eyes looking in yours, you let yourself sink and drown in the emotions swimming in the orbs.

“I-…I’m sorry.”

Swallowing hard, you contemplated on telling the blonde the news you’d been holding back for the better part of a month, the summer international season wrapping up today and giving you way to make an official announcement soon.

You saw as Leah observed you closely, her head tilting to the side as she sensed you were holding something back, her knowledge of you from when you dated not lost in the slightest.

You stared blankly as her eyes went wide, her stepping away from you as the gears in her brain turned. 

“Oh my god, please don’t tell me you have a girlfriend or someth-“

Shaking your head quickly, eyes widening at the worldly incorrect guess, you placed your hands on her waist, immediately pulling her back, her warmth alluring, her presence a comfort you had missed dearly and didn’t want to lose for  even a second.

“No. God, I couldn’t even if I tried. Trust me, you weren’t the only one who couldn’t move on…”

Comforting the blonde with your shared emotions of the past handful of months, you relaxed yourself, the admission lifting the weight off your shoulders, no need for you to pretend you were okay without her.

Taking a deep breath in as Leah neared your proximity once more, your hands travelling up to her shoulders as hers found purchase on your hips, you chose to ignore the somersaults your stomach was doing at finally being in Leah’s arms after so long.

Closing your eyes, terrified of the response you were going to get, you quickly blurted out what you had been holding back.

“There’s a high chance, and by high I mean nearly 99% done, of me transferring to Arsenal for the upcoming season…”

Having spent the last year with Wolfsburg, your one year contract had expired after the end of the league, you choosing not to renew when your childhood club put in an offer. 

Peeking an eye open to gauge Leah’s reaction, you couldn’t stop the smile that spread on your face as you saw her eyes shine with joy, a beaming grin on her face at your words. 

“Don’t lie…please…”

Shaking your head, you internally melted at how hopeful the skipper looked.

“I promise I’m not.”

At your words, you saw as her smile grew again, Leah scooping you up into her arms to hug you tightly at the news- resentment be damned- the joy of having you near drowning out any and all negative sentiments in the blink of an eye.

Feeling her grin against the crook of your neck, you rested your face against her shoulder, sinking into the familiar feeling of being her arms, a feeling you missed terribly.

And as Leah pulled back, the twinkle in her eyes paralleling the brightest stars in the sky, you smiled shyly as she rested her forehead against yours, you both silently understanding what this meant for you and for her, for you both. 

It wasn’t much, nothing resolved between the two of you, at least not yet- but it was something- a starting point. 

Soft smiles on both of your faces, you let yourself be led out, following behind Leah, hands gently intertwined and a glimmer of hope in your hearts. 

[jafndaegur]

Hey~

May I ask for a Fengqing fic, with a angst with a happy ending base

Hiiii! Thanks for asking^^ I've never written for Fengqing before but I love their dynamic, so thanks for letting me give it a shot. Enjoy!

a warm pit of embers

Tian Guan Ci Fu

Mu Qing x Feng Xin

Fic Request Specialty: Angst with a Happy ending

The silver butterflies disappear in a flurry, and so does Xie Lian. Before the gates of Xie Lan's probation compound, the two of them stand dumbly, looking owlishly at the spot where Crismon Rain Sought Flower whisked away his highness. Feng Xin is the first to break from their stupefied stillness, his stoic face pinched into a disapproving glare. He turns his chastisement to Mu Qing.

Mu Qing feels his brow twitch—he casts a caustic sneer and rolls his eyes. "Don't look at me like that. Some military might you are, couldn't even fend off the ghost in time for his highness to get away. Crimson Rain Sought Flower will probably make quick work his his highness now thanks to your carelessnes—"

A rush of air bustles toward him, and Mu Qing can only look down his nose as Feng Xin grabs the hem of his robe, pulling him forward. Sunlight scatters across Feng Xin's furious glare and draws in Mu Qing's attention. The leer at the corner of his lips falls short.

Oh.

It feels like they've been here before, in this argument, in this pose, in an endless samsara of blame and guilt and responsibility shared between them.

"Don't. Don't utter such nonsense," Feng Xin nearly growls. "I would never—"

There it is, that dogged loyalty. As Mu Qing stops listening, he finds his gaze never wavering from Feng Xin's lips, his eyes, his stony countenance. A fire burns in Mu Qing's stomach, a warm pit of embers waiting to be ignited. That passion behind Feng Xin's eyes never ceases to amaze him...never ceases to attract him.

Not that he would ever vocalize that.

Instead Mu Qing flicks Feng Xin's forehead. "Cmon, General Ju Yang." He makes sure the intonation is wrong, can see the red blush over Feng Xin's ears and up his neck.

"You—!" Feng Xin's words fall short, stuttering and frustrated, maybe even mortified.

Chuckling, Mu Qing takes the chance to pull away from the grip freeing himself from strong hands and those dizzying eyes. He throws a saucy smile over his shoulder. "We better find his highness and the ghost king before anyone finds out you lost them. Don't worry, it'll be our secret."

He doesn't wait for Feng Xin's rebuttal and walks away, the smile never fading from his face.

Welcome to the Danmei Fanfic Nightclub~ Want to request a fic? Browse our menu here ✨️

[pia55tri]

Carcar prompt!!

Carlos follows Oscar back on Insta randomly and Oscar is very ??? about it hehe

thank you for sending in a prompt 🫶

Oscar gets so many notifications on his public socials that he’s muted them all. That isn’t to say that he isn’t immediately informed when anything happens, because he is.

This time, it’s a message from his social media manager, who doesn’t really manage his posts, but does keep an eye out on them for the team. It goes, Just a few comments from some drivers on your latest post. And Carlos followed you back.

And Oscar’s immediate instinct is to ask, Carlos who?

Is it Carlos Alcaraz? That would be cool, but unlikely.

Even just as unlikely is Carlos Sainz Jr. following him back. But that’s just what happens.

Oscar stares at his followers list for a long moment. He isn’t on bad terms with Carlos, per se. But they’re not on — on great terms either. They just.

They talk. A lot. Carlos talks a lot, in general, and Oscar is exactly the type to goad him, so when they end up in the same vicinity — which is often, nowadays, given that they’re both living in Monaco and bumping into each other at the gym, or the padel court, or even Lando’s favourite haunts around the city — they end up talking for longer than Oscar anticipates.

And they take the same private jets. Same planes, if they’re flying commercial. They have the same friends on the grid. They go to the same gym.

It just happens. Oscar never expected it to, but it does. And somehow all those coincidences and those conversations snowball into texting on the regular and sending each other ridiculous posts from the internet and sports news clips and short messages about their very separate days. And.

Anyway. Throughout it all, Carlos never followed Oscar back on instagram. It was funny, at first (and still is, really), because Carlos would leave comments on his posts like a terrible stalker. For the first few weeks of their sort-of-friendship, Oscar doesn’t think that Carlos even knew he hadn’t been following Oscar back. But it’s since been a little joke between them.

(And imagine that, an inside joke between Oscar and Carlos Sainz Jr. Oscar was a child and spectator at one of Carlos’s rookie races. Little Oscar would have laughed in disbelief. Rookie Oscar would have also laughed in disbelief, in, albeit, a mildly different manner.)

So, now. Oscar is up at an unreasonable time, lounging in his underwear, in the middle of his messy room, and staring at the carlossainz55 in his followers list.

What the fuck.

He needs a sympathetic ear.

🏎🏎

“Okay?” Logan is not at all sympathetic. “And, uh, how does that make you feel?”

“I’m. Normal about it.”

“If you were normal about it, you wouldn’t have called me about it at,” a rustle and a sigh, “three in the morning about it. Mate, I have a meeting in, like, four hours.”

“Logan, please.”

“Call Fred or something.”

“No!” Oscar immediately protests. “And no calling Lando either. They’ll just tell me to— to smooch him or something.”

Another pause. “Well, mate, I don’t know what to tell you, but I personally think that if you’re thinking about ‘smooching’ someone at three in the morning, then you should probably do that.”

Oscar groans. “Fuck you, too.”

“Cheers,” Logan says brightly, then hangs up on him.

Oscar groans again.

🏎🏎

He finally gives in to his little lizard hindbrain and pulls up his messages with Carlos.

So you’re finally signing up to seeing me on your timeline regularly?

He stares at his screen with some shock at his own audacity. What is he—

A buzz. And a reply from Carlos.

Much easier than me going to look for your account every time I want to see you, yes?

Oscar stares some more.

Carefully, he places his phone screen-down on his bed. Looks up at the ceiling.

He can feel his heart in his throat.

Well.

Well.

[stucky-fic-prompt]

[svarok]

i want to write abt bagginshield but I’ve been at a roadblock for so long! decided to make a little prompt list of words to choose from :’)

I’ve never done ask/request prompts but it looks like a fun way to get into the groove of writing! So few free to send me an ask with one of the prompts below or even one of your own!

These warmups/oneshots shouldn’t be anything more than 2,500 words but who knows, sometimes even I surprise myself (ꈍᴗꈍ)

little reminder that these will be lotr/the hobbit focused but i will make exceptions for poolverine, obviously ♥(ᴖ◡ᴖ)

[olsenmyolsen]

OKAY NOW THAT I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION!

to everybody still waiting on requests I promise im going to try and get them out by next week!! They might be short and even some drabbles!

Hope everyone is well and thanks for your support!!

Also look at how pretty Lizzie is 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖