#give me the chance. I will. don’t test me

[keferon]

So I had ideas for Mecha Pilot AU while reading some of the things that other people have sent and those ideas turned into this!

Enjoy some Hot Rod shenanigans!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It starts when Hot Rod catches First Aid trying to smuggle a metal sheet out of the base. 

Well, no, it really started when the higher ups said that Jazz, allegedly, stole a half put together experimental mech unit. Which, Hot Rod would like to point out, makes absolutely no sense. Jazz is smart. If he was going to steal a mech, he’d wait until it was completely built and fully functional. No, there was something else going on and it had something to do with those strange upgrades that a few of the mechs got. Jazz had taken one look at them and booked it. 

Then immediately stole a half made mech that was completely covered in the stuff. 

All of this happening after he had been gone for months before mysteriously returning. 

Point is there’s something going on and it started with Jazz.

Presently, it has something to do with First Aid and the hunk of metal he’s carting around. 

The hunk of metal that looks like that strange upgraded plating. 

“Sooo…” Hot Rod says as he looks the other pilot over, “We stealing now?”

“No, I- this is- Vortex is up next for the-.”

“Nah man, you’re fine.” Hot Rod walks over to the back of the cart and places a hand on the metal. “I’m game for whatever we’re doing, I just want to know if we need to be sneaky.”

“It- what? We?”

“Yeah.” Hot Rod smiles and tilts his head to the side, like this was a given. “So, we stealing?”

First Aid gives him a look that’s a cross between befuddlement and scrutiny. It’s one he gets often, but the newer pilot seems well practiced with it. A solid eight out of ten honestly.

“This isn’t for profit.” First Aid says slowly. “And this isn’t for me.”

Hot Rod’s smile takes a slightly more feral edge. “Even better.”

_._._

Apparently Jazz has an alien robot boyfriend and the higher ups were using parts of his body for upgrades. 

Very morbid, but sadly not surprising.

They need to get as much of the original frame as possible back to Ratchet as that would make repairs easier. 

They’ve apparently been getting a lot of the pieces that had already been on other mechs through “collateral damage”.

First Aid had shrugged, “It’s not my fault if an upgraded mech gets between Vortex and a monster.”

The real tricky bits to get were the ones still on base and being tested. Which, for some reason, included an entire oversized thumb.

An oversized thumb he and First Aid are trying to sneak out from under Shockwave’s nose. 

“The rest of the hand was in random parts of the base.” Hot Rod mutters. “Why did the thumb need to be in such a secure area?”

“Complain louder. I don’t think the bugs heard you.” First Aid sasses in a hissed whisper. 

Hot Rod shivers at the reminder of Shockwave’s “helpers”. Knee high robots with four legs and a hexagonal face. They would’ve been cute had their singular yellow eye not reminded him of the eerie visage that is now the scientist's face. Shockwave used them to help in his work but to also keep an eye on his lab and the surrounding hallways. 

“Don’t even go there, Aid. You’ll end up jinxing-.”

His warning is interrupted by a faint skittering from around the next corner. 

“Crap crap crap crap crap crap crap.” Hot Rod looks around frantically before shoving himself, First Aid, and the thumb into the nearest door.

It turns out to be a closet. What kind of closet? Hot Rod doesn’t know and he refuses to find out. While it could be a normal supply closet, he’s not taking the chance that it could also be storage for strange and dubiously ethical experiments. 

So Hot Rod crams himself into the small space while keeping his eyes entirely focused on the door as he closes it. He and First Aid hold their breaths as the skittering of the bug gets louder, comes right in front of their hiding spot, then continues on without pause. 

They both let out sighs of relief and Hot Rod sets his forehead on the door. 

First Aid makes an inquiring hum. “There’s a vent in here. Think the thumb would fit?”

“Oh no.” Hot Rod says, face still against the door. “Do you have any idea how loud that would be? We aren’t dragging a large metal thumb through the metal vents and destroying our hearing with the echoing screeches.”

“Well, what do you propose we do then? Take it out the front door?”

_._._

“That never should have worked.” 

“You should never underestimate the power of looking like you know what you’re doing while carrying a box.”

“That never should have worked.”

Said large and long box holding the alien robot thumb sat innocently in the back seat of Hot Rod’s truck. 

_._._

“We need a movie for Rachet and Drift.”

Ratchet, who is helping Jazz repair Prowl, gives Hot Rod that “befuddled and scrutinizing” look that everyone seems to give him (A definite ten out of ten for Ratchet; truly a professional in giving out looks to others). “What?”

“Well, yeah! We’ve got Ratatouille for Jazz and Prowl. Aid and Vortex got a reverse Ratatouille-.”

“How’d you hear about that?” First Aid demands.

“Tailgate.” Hot Rod answers easily, then turns back to Ratchet to continue his previous thought. “So now we need to think of a movie for you and Drift!”

Ratchet’s eyes narrow in the unspoken promise of bad things to come. “No.”

Hot Rod, being the one who got a mech that catches on fire and made it work, takes Ratchet’s look as a challenge. He snaps his finger and points at the older man “I got it! ‘The Iron Giant’.”

Ratchet scoffs, rolls his eyes, and gets back to working in the alien robot’s arm. 

“What?” Jazz protests, while keeping his main focus on the internals of Prowl’s arm, “Iron Giant? Really? That’s a loose connection at best and you know it.”

“Oh? And do you have something better?” Hot Rod playfully challenges. 

“Dude, ‘Lilo and Stitch’ is right there.”

“How is that any better than mine?”

“Because War Crimes McGee here,” Jazz gestures to an amused looking Drift before getting back to his work, “is a better fit for Stitch than the Iron Giant any day of the week.”

Jazz may have a point, but while Hot Rod’s mom may have raised a fool, she definitely didn’t raise a quitter. 

“So Ratchet here tells Drift all about ohana and kicks off his character arc?”

“Not everything's one to one, Roddy. I’m not using Prowl to become the best chef is Paris. You just don’t want to admit I’m right.”

“I agree with Jazz.” First Aid cuts in. 

Hot Rod gives him a mock glare. “You’re just saying that so you won’t have to agree with me.”

First Aid shrugs. “True, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”

“Children. The lot of you.” Ratchet grumbles. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

And yeah! Ideas was mostly ‘Hey, they could probably have Vortex get pieces of Prowl back since fights like that are bound to be very chaotic and Vortex would have no hang ups about attacking allies every now and then’

It went further as the idea of Hot Rod and First Aid trying to do spy things and be sneaky but somehow succeeding due to Shenanigans was too funny to pass up XD

Loving this AU so far and all the cool stuff people are making for it!

OMG THE CHILDREN ARE STEALING FROM THE BIG CORPORATION IM SO PROUD OF THEM~~

Also the way all these different plot lines are crossing each other and occasionally coming together is just so cool I love it

Like, yeah we have fucked up horror, we have space drama, we have Lilo and Stitch aaaaand we have option to combine them together. Also now there is Shockwave so all the guys have the "free angst" option I gues ahahah

[virtues-end]

So I’ve got a thought, and you don’t have to tell me which of which is right, if it is at all, but

Shea knew MC before they were a helvling, and I always just kind of took that at face value.

Like it could be anything, childhood friends, living in the same village at some point, meeting through mutual friends, etc. It seemed less important how, and more important that it happened at all.

But then it’s occurred to me, what a foolish take.

Shea’s being in the occupation that they are, is important.

MC being able to have to have such emotions about things and certain organizations and it not being a fixed detail, is important. (I understand that it could just be the general set up and I’m looking too hard, but this doesn’t come across like the usual flavor text to me).

And then I was thinking the chances of them meeting really young feel closer to zero than not because Elex doesn’t seem to know us (obviously this could be false but I think there would’ve been something more complicated to their processing of us past the curiosity they feel if it was otherwise)

So I was like, where do adults meet other adults often enough to get to know each other in a setting where picking up and simply moving isn’t a readily available choice for most people?

And how poetic would it be if MC used to be a Keeper/was going to become one and that’s how they met before it all went to shit. How much weird sense would it make, in equal measure, any super negative or positive opinion that MC had about the situation/thumb they’re under now, not knowing it was the same before thumb. Even if it’s the same opinion or different from before. And sure it can absolutely be important to the now or even just flavor text but it doesn’t really feel like it.

Shea came to kill us and couldn’t.

And Shea doesn’t usually come across like someone who can’t follow through, so I have my doubts of it being a simple acquaintanceship. This is at least camaraderie or respect (and Shea being chosen to do this screams test btw, like of all the people to choose).

It feels like Shea only could make that decision because of who their father is, but also like they definitely didn’t get away with it per se.

Which, if I’m right, that conversation between the Shea and their father takes on double meaning and weight.

Because that means physically othering us, despite knowing and having proof who we were prior in a much more personal way and giving that disgust/disappointment he feels in Shea not being able to do the same a more tangible weight.

Even if all of this is an extraordinarily wrong reach, it does feel like Shea feels guilty.

Like they wonder if they made the right choice binding us again and not killing us. Not because they want us dead but because they would never know if that was what we’d want before changing air even necessarily after. They feel like someone who would label that action, taking that liberty, as selfish.

Well, my lips are sealed, obviously... But thank you for sending me your thoughts! :-) It's so fascinating to see how people might interpret things.

[leslutdepointedulac]

"These violent delights have violent ends."

Armand Ship Fest ~ Week 5/Day 1: "These violent delights have violent ends."

“I’m not fighting with you, Nicolas.” Armand’s steady voice breaks the silence. “Come here.”

Nicki remains where he is, staring him down and praying he can’t hear how his heart slams against his ribs. Armand shakes his head and slowly takes a step forward; he steadily moves again when Nicki stays still, as if testing the waters. Their eyes remain locked the whole time, watching each other almost cautiously as they wait to see what the other will do. Only when Armand is a few feet away, does Nicki lose his nerve and reel back, forcing himself into the back corner.

As Armand comes closer, Nicki presses himself against the wall, doing his best to conceal his trembling even as he casts a look of resentment towards the coven leader. Stopping in front of him, Armand stares at him calmly, yet with an unforgiving glint in his eyes.

“You can’t escape this.” It’s more of a matter of fact statement than a threat.

“Whatever you plan on doing to me, I won’t let you.” Nicki hisses.

Armand narrows his eyes at him. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I will give you one chance to do as I tell you; if you refuse to comply, I’ll have no choice but to force you and I’d rather it didn’t come to that. Now, get on the table and lie down.”

“You can’t make me do anything.”

Nicki gives him a challenging look which quickly falters when he feels something being pressed in his mind. It’s nothing more than some slight pressure at first, making him shake his head as though that will relieve it. Then it becomes more forceful, the feeling weighing down and willing him towards the table. He tosses his head and snarls at Armand in warning. “Get out of my head!”

The pressure increases and he stumbles when his feet start to move, trying in vain to fight against the command. Armand just stares at him with a neutral expression, watching as he’s forced forward, practically staggering with his efforts to go against the control over him. Nicki looks at him with a mixture of fear and anger. His steps falter just as he reaches the table, catching himself with his hands on its surface as he falls forward slightly.

A few loose curls hang over his eyes from where they’ve slipped out of the ribbon tying them back. His eyes flash with contempt, fingers curling in to form claws against the table and leave streaks of red from his bloodied fingertips.

“Don’t make me force you any more.” Armand says, his expression hard and warning. “Get on the table.”

[A03 A Dog With No Bite]

[findingcrow]

I need EVERYONE to shut up and start TALKING ABOUT THE BOAR SCENE. Book one. Ruins of Gorlan. The first time Will is in real danger, the first time we see WHY he was chosen as a rangers apprentice. The first time that Halt, stern-faced, greybearded, Mr “I hate everything except for coffee and my horse”, Mr “why do apprentices ask so many questions”, shows that he sees Will as more than just an annoying 15 year old. The first time that we get proof that Halt and Will’s relationship is more than mentor & apprentice, that it’s father & son. Will puts himself in the line of danger to save a boy who’s been bullying him for his whole life, and instead of crying out for help and breaking under the pressure of being about to die, he keeps fighting and accepts it. And Halt saves him and Will can’t help the tears of relief that come over him, he can’t help but bury his face in halts cloak. Halt literally jumps off Abelard and hugs him and holds him tight and doesn’t let go. It’s the first time Halt remembers that Will is always going to be in danger. And how Will reacts to Halt saving him shows that even though Halt hasn’t shown any kind emotion to him at all, Will considers him a safe place, a safe person. I hate them and this series they make me sick and it’s awful and it’s all I can ever think about

[kacievvbbbb]

But like hypothetically if I decided to make a series of YouTube video breaking down and rambling about how I think the first year trio encompass the full gradient scale of what it means to be “morally good” and how by the end of the series they have grown exponentially but their moral inner workings are so entrenched in who they are they never needed to change they just became more of who they already were.

Because initially Yuuji wants to save the world in that abstract way all heroes do, Megumi is only interested in saving those he can save and Nobara is only interested in those she wants to save. And all these are treated as morally valid by the narrative and not really flaws in need of changing but instead philosophies in need of refining and understanding.

Because Jujutsu Society as a whole encourages and thrives off a moral apathy or superiority, they are in the business of killing curses not saving lives and that ultimately raises the question of if you’re going out there everyday killing curses and inadvertently saving lives does it really matter the reason why? Or the morality behind it? Maybe not to you but to the society, maybe.

So anyway, hypothetically ….would you be hypothetically interested👀

[wordsgood]

i was doodling value spectrums for the main 4 chars of deep six because that helps me figure out how to build plot (plot serves character alwayssss), and chance’s was the easiest because he is the biggest fuckup. his harmful value (cowardice) is glaring and obvious. sixes’s is also easy at this point (greed). sevens is always a little bit of an enigma and i’m working on his. but lev is my baby, my best girl, so i thought i knew what it was: need for control. she’s been the guardian of her little family for so long that ofc the trait that gets her into trouble is that need for control, she feels she has to be a little bit of a tyrant. but tbh that’s never been a cause of problems — she’s never loved her family “too much,” never wanted to save them “too much.” she doesn’t harm them by protecting them.

what does end up doing harm is that she is afraid of letting them go. it’s not control that she wants; she wants to not be alone. she is afraid of being the one less loved. which means that………..oh my god, lev and chance share the same value spectrum but they work in exactly opposite directions……….i’m going to scream. their identical fatal flaw is connected to their identical saving grace (fear <—> trust) and it works the same way. chance has to trust lev to love him so much that she will not harm him if he gets close; lev has to trust chance to love her so much that he won’t leave if she lets him go.

they are so siblings they are so soulmates they are so everything to me. the immovable object vs the unstoppable force. SCREAM.

[sttoru]

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐋𝐃-𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘 !

⟣ sypnosis. you were curious if your boyfriend would pass a ‘loyalty test’ that you’ve seen on social media and you decide to see for yourself, only to discover something much more . . . heartwarming.

⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. mostly tooth rotting fluff. talks about cheating / a sprinkle of trust issues from reader. the rest is satoru just being lovesick.

⟣ note. uhhhh… idk just a random idea i got at three am on a saturday night after being woken up from a nightmare >_< enjoy .

you don’t think satoru would actually ever cheat on you. your curiosity just got the best of you when you saw that one girl do a ‘loyalty test’ on her boyfriend. it was quite simple—testing if your partner would hand you their phone without being suspiciously defensive.

therefore you walked into satoru’s room and spotted him laying on his side, his back facing the door. he didn’t have any earphones in so you could hear the sounds of a movie playing on the phone he held in his hands.

he seemed so peaceful and content that you were already feeling bad for disturbing him with your silly test. you moved to sit on the edge of the bed and cleared your throat, making your presence known as if the sorcerer hadn’t sensed it moments ago.

“are you cheating on me?”

blunt and straight to the point.

satoru pauses the show on his phone and looks at you like you had said the most outrageous thing there is (to him, you really did). he drops the device on the bed and turns his body to face yours; “well—hello to you too, baby.”

he runs a hand through his hair before sitting up against the headboard with a raised brow, one hand cautiously reaching out for you. satoru was thinking about all the things he has said or done previously that could’ve possibly make you think he was screwing around behind your back. his mind worked fast, though he couldn’t come up with any logical explanation.

“answer my question please, ‘toru.” you mumble, feeling slightly guilty for doing this to your lover. you could see the confusion plastered on his face.

“no, i am not.” satoru shakes his head whilst holding your hand in his, thumb brushing against the back of it, “what makes you think that?”

you weren’t about to say ‘oh nevermind then! just a dumb thing that i saw on tiktok’—no, there was still one thing left to do. even if you’re so super sure that your boyfriend was hiding nothing from you. maybe there was an one in a million chance that your intuition was wrong. or maybe it’s just your underlying trust issues speaking.

“uhh, just wanted.. to check.. i guess?” you clear your throat and take a deep inhale before putting your hand out to satoru, palm up.

the white-haired sorcerer looks from your hand to you, and back. he doesn’t know what that indicated, so he takes a simple guess; satoru places his chin on your palm, giving you an amused kind of grin. you raise an eyebrow as he rests his head on your hand—which wasn’t what you wanted to gain from your gesture.

but you couldn’t blame him. it was cute that that was the first thing he thought of doing.

“you’re always welcome to check. got nothin’ to hide anyway.” he shrugs, not offended by your accusation in the slightest. you see the way his blue eyes look up at you—in a way that shows his pure, unadulterated adoration for you.

you nod and scratch satoru under his chin, to which he smiles and closes his eyes, enjoying the tingling touch, “then can i .. look through your phone?”

without an ounce of hesitation, he had placed his phone unlocked in your hand. satoru doesn’t care much about privacy anyway—you’re his girlfriend, you’re the only one allowed to know every single thing about him, “of course, baby.”

your eyes land on the screen and your jaw drops as you see his home screen; a picture of you up close, sleeping with your cheek squished against his arm, own hands resting near your head and . . . is that drool trickling down your chin?

“oops, sorry, you were too cute not to take a picture of.” satoru chuckles as he sees your reaction. he lays back on his side, elbow propped on the pillow with his head resting against his hand—watching you go through his phone with a relaxed look.

you roll your eyes playfully before starting your search. your finger swiped across the screen and landed on the messenger app satoru uses. you click on it and scroll through his chats, but don’t find anything out of the ordinary. he recently talked to you, his first year students, nanami and shoko.

you curiously tap on his chat with shoko and don’t read anything interesting at first glance. you scroll up and take note of how satoru was the one who kept most of the conversation going. shoko’s replies were much shorter and curt—straight to the point.

but then your eyes land on a conversation from two weeks ago. satoru had showed shoko a bunch of selfies you had sent him that same day. he was telling her how ‘cute’ and ‘pretty’ you were, practically bragging about you being his girl.

you scroll up some more and see that he’s done the same many times before; sending shoko pictures of you and kind of rambling to her about how beautiful you are.

shoko—being the good friend she is—indulged into his little lovesick ramblings and agreed with every thing satoru said—even complimenting your looks herself. you begun to get embarrassed at this unexpected revelation.

when going through more of his chats with other people, you realise how much satoru loves to talk about you. you couldn’t possibly count the many times satoru had refused invitations from his students or other friends simply because he wanted to hang out with you instead.

you discovered that he even skipped two or three important meetings at the school to go spend the day with you—nanami scolding him via text each time he did so.

“damn..” you murmur and glance up at your lover after closing his messaging app. satoru was staring right back at you with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on him.

he wasn’t embarrassed about you reading some of those cheesy and sappy texts at all. in fact, he was happy. he wants you to know how much he loves you (as if he doesn’t show you exactly that every day of the week).

“go on, sweets.” satoru nods towards his phone, encouraging you to continue your inspection. your eyes dart back towards the screen and you shyly swipe and scroll some more, eventually ending up in his gallery.

the first things you noticed: two albums dedicated to you. all were filled with hundreds of pictures of you (and him). one was named ‘my love,’ the other ‘me&my love’ — both with a heart at the end. scrolling through them, you noticed many images you hadn’t even realised were ever taken.

many of those pictures were also favourited in his gallery.

you nibble on your bottom lip and leave the gallery app even more flustered than before. you aimlessly click around some more on his phone. what really surprised you most was that you were named in his reminder app.

there were tons—all added in one long list. some were so pure that you couldn’t contain the slight tears in your eyes;

‘bring gf gifts’, ‘remind gf that she’s amazing’, ‘bring gf lunch’, ‘send gf daily selfie’, ‘daily cuddles w gf (if she wants)’, ‘give gf big smooch (important!)’, ‘check up on gf when away on business’, — satoru doesn’t actually need to have those reminders on his phone. his mind is so full of you that he’ll automatically remember to do everything, almost on autopilot. he just has those there for… well, just in case he somehow ends up forgetting.

you lock his phone after seeing enough and give it back to your lover. you wordlessly crawl over to him on the bed and snuggle up to his body, head resting on his chest.

“sorry.” you quietly apologise. you knew he wasn’t hiding anything, but the fact that you still went ahead and tried out that ‘loyalty test’ on someone as loyal and loving as satoru makes your heart ache a bit. especially after discovering just how smitten he’s with you.

“dunno why you’re apologising—but please don’t.” satoru whispers and rubs your back in a soothing manner, kissing the top of your head and smiling against your scalp afterwards, “it’s fiiine.”

he’s entertained by the reactions to your discoveries, even if those are but mere indications to the actual unending and undying love he holds for you in his heart.

you lift your head up and look at satoru. your bottom lip stuck out, corners of your mouth twitching slightly whilst your eyes started to get a bit glassy. you really felt bad—yet you also felt appreciated on the other hand. if you didn’t go through with your curious idea, you wouldn’t have gotten to know about any of this.

“aww, my sweet, sweet girl.” satoru coos and places two kisses right below each eye, tapping your nose with a grin. he adores the way you look and if it wasn’t for his self control, he’d have nibbled on those cheeks of yours out of playful aggression.

it’s then that satoru remembers one of his daily tasks; one he hadn’t properly done today.

you were caught off guard once more as satoru’s lips crashed down onto yours—no warning given whatsoever. his big hands held onto your cheeks, thumb rubbing the skin there whilst his glossy lips moved against yours in a gentle yet much sloppy way.

“there,” the white-haired man hums in content as he pulls away, giggling once he sees a bit of his saliva coat your mouth. he wipes it away with his thumb, “your smooch of the day.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at the exaggerated cringy way satoru said the latter—your boyfriend laughing right alongside you afterwards.

satoru wasn’t done with you, however. he had many other daily tasks that were yet to be fulfilled.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ mad with need ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ you want him so bad that you feel like you’re going crazy so he indulges you┊3.0k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: smut!! dom logan & sub reader┊x wade wilson too, age gap, dirty fantasies from a horny reader (who is actually insecure about herself), size difference, no prep we’re dying like nicepool, riding & unprotected piv, breeding/creampie, a bit rushed i need this out my wips

➤ author's note: okay so this is actually the very first logan fic i started, but i have no idea why it took me so long to finish it? it’s a bit all over the place, but i hope some people enjoy anyway!

has he realized you were there and simply testing your self-control, or is he just being so effortlessly sexy again that you aren’t sure if you’re in love or jealous? was there any other reason for him to be laid out on the beat-up couch like something to feast on when he was simply holding a bottle of liquor in one hand to sip on and flipping through the channels of a barely-working box television with a remote in the other? why else would he be so delectable around a known pervert(s, wade is just as bad as you are, just more focused on the possible destruction of his home rather than the pansexual panic between you and logan plaguing him) if not to tempt you?

you’re constantly fawning over the sight of him and letting out dreamy sighs which have become more common lately than you would like to admit, swearing that you could gaze upon him for every second of the day and not tire of it. they say “god gives his most difficult battles to his strongest soldiers”, yet the battle assigned to you is restraining yourself from pouncing on him at the very moment and begging to suck his cock. you know that you’re horny most hours of the day and also kinda a brazen whore, but the way he makes you wet in record time should be worthy of a gold olympic medal.

every time his lips wrap around the rim of the glass bottle, you can’t help but imagine them somewhere else. the image of his handsome face between your legs and scruffy facial hair coated in your slick while he ravishes you haunts your mind whenever you try to sleep, yet the phantom sensation of his tongue on you while his nose stimulates your clit helps you rest in the end. you bet that he would be great at eating pussy too, with his sharp tongue and arrogant attitude— god. 

he’s also so jacked that even when he’s resting, his muscles still seem to bulge with prominent veins like a nurse’s wet dream and it has you downright drooling. now that the sleeves of his suit were gone, you could see how beefy his arms were, and seeing any inch of his skin had you acting up like a victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time. he could probably crush your skull like an egg if you ever found yourself head-locked in them (you’ve seen him do it to wade out of irritation, and you’ve never been so jealous).

and not to mention how peggable his shapely ass is, there’s really no limit to all the things you want to try with him if you were given the chance—

“are you finished staring?” his gruff voice brought you back to reality, refocusing your vision as he made a slight gesture to his body with one of his rare smirks, “like what you see?” it’s a rhetorical question, he knows how good he looks despite his age and you have already made your attraction towards him well-established. 

you don’t need to say anything, he can tell what you’re thinking as clearly as day, so you don’t bother making any dirty remarks like usual and just walk out the room. you paced around the house for a minute or two to calm yourself down until you eventually ran into wade. “oh my god,” you cupped your face with your hands, eyes becoming big and round as if you were going to cry, “i want him so bad, i feel like i’m gonna lose my mind if i don’t fuck him!”

“well, why haven’t you? i know for a fact that my presence isn’t enough to stop you from climbing him like a tree, so spill it!”

“uhhhh,” you pointed your fingers together to exaggerate self-consciousness, “what if… what if he doesn’t like me and just sees me as some annoying, excessively horny kid?”

“can you believe this bitch?” he scoffed, looking at the invisible audience that was always watching before grabbing your shoulders and violently shaking you, “listen here missy, he definitely likes you— i have yet to see that man smile at anything else that isn’t your face and comments that rival jjk twitter fans in vulgarity! why are you suddenly getting cold feet now when you’re such a player? you’re suddenly screaming, crying, and throwing up over peanut whom you’ve been hitting on non-stop since we found him?!”

“i don’t know! it’s different, he’s my hero, and— i know it’s hard for you to believe, but he’s not even half the asshole my previous flings were. besides, he so fucking hot—”

“yeah, but he’s also so fucking old— his dick is probably all shriveled up—” the sound of the said man clearing his throat made him jump out of his skin, slowly turning his head to look at the older man before giggling nervously and waving his hands around in some form of awkward greeting. even if he can regenerate and wounds are more like papercuts, the last thing he wanted was to get stabbed in the balls by his adamantium claws again for making such a comment. “ahaha, how much did you hear…?”

“enough,” he grunted, turning his attention to you, “and you’re coming with me.”

“huh—?” there was hardly a moment for you to properly react before he suddenly bent down to grab you by the waist and toss you over his shoulder, “you’re not even gonna ask me to dinner first?!” you must have looked like a fish out of the water with how your mouth was agape with surprise, and you heard him genuinely chuckle in amusement. both from the fact that you didn’t see this coming after all you’ve been saying to him as well as the fact that he could pick you up and throw you around like you weighed nothing.

“well, you didn’t exactly greet me with a ‘hello’ before shamelessly undressing me with your eyes when we first met, now did you?” you couldn’t see if he was smiling or not considering that you were upside-down. the current angle only gave you a close-up view of his perfect ass (not that you were complaining, you need to know his squat routine), unsure if the heat on your face was from the embarrassment of him calling you out or simply from the blood rushing to your head.

“what about me? are you lovebirds really going to leave me all by myself, lonely and yearning for the companionship of another while you two fuck like rabbits?”

“ahh, go fuck yourself.” the grin on his face dissipated the moment he opened his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to ruin his mood as he carried you away to the closest bedroom available, quickly flinging you on the bed without a bother to be careful when handling you since he knew that you could and have taken worse as deadpool’s sidekick. “why are you so nervous? think i don’t want you as much as you want me?”

“wait, actually?” your usually confident facade of the overly forward flirt was faltering more and more by the second.

“you’re so busy ogling my body that you haven’t even noticed the way i look at you, huh?” it’s obvious logan was an absolute beast of a man, but when he cages you with his arms between his bulky frame and the mattress, you feel like a little field mouse against a lion. the way your pupils dilate as you look up at him with adorned excitement has him so fucking feral, heat stirring in his stomach and blood rushing to his cock. he traced over your outfit, admiring how the skin-tight leather hugged your curved. “wearing such a slutty little things that leaves nothing to the imagination, and you expected me not to think about pinning you down and fucking you until you pass out?”

you shivered at his words, arousal pooling in your underwear and warmth spreading throughout your body under your skin. this cheeky son of a bitch can smell it too, the sweet smell of desire, sensing how needy you are for his touch and how your pussy is just begging for his attention. 

as much as he wanted to rip your clothing off and pound into you like there was no tomorrow, he wanted to take his time to properly treasure the cute sidekick who has been reminding him how it feels to be a man again, young and unafraid to pursue the woman of his dreams and treat her right the way that countless of others failed to do. (you’re going to laugh hysterically at him later on down the line when you hear him say that, never thinking you could be the object of anyone’s affection past a one-night stand, but the look in his eyes makes you realize he’s telling the truth and you’ll get all flustered over it.) 

you can taste the alcohol from earlier when he kisses you and moan into it, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, all teeth, tongue, and animalistic want. he ran a hand down your torso to reach the zipper of your suit, undoing it in one swift motion, exposing your bare chest to his eager eyes.

“no bra?”

“i don’t need it when the suit— ah!” 

he cut you off, not caring about the intricacies of how the costume supported everything when he would only get distracted, moving his lips to take one of your perk nipples in his mouth and sucking like it was going to give him milk or something while pinching the other one in between his fingers. he’s like a kid on christmas playing with his new toy: palming at your breasts, cupping and squishing them together, and realizing that his large hands could practically cover them entirely.

“fuckk, you’re so pretty, doll,” he drawled, letting go of your teat with a ‘pop’ and kissing your neck before making you gasp by sinking his teeth into your skin. you gasped at the sudden sensation, deep enough to leave a lasting indent but not deep enough to draw blood, as he soothed the fresh wound by licking it with his tongue. everyone was going to know that you were his, especially that motherfucker he knows is listening in on the other side of the door with his cock in his hands.

 “logan…” you rasp, voice barely above a whisper.

“what is it, princess?” it was a nickname he has used plenty of times, yet it felt completely different in such a sexually charged situation, so much more intimate in a way that you feel your heart racing even faster than before and a rush of energy within. 

“need you…” you murmured.

“come on, a little louder, you need to use your words.” 

“fucking hell,” you covered your face with your hands, trying to ignore the way your cheeks burned, “i need you, logan! i’m gonna go crazy if you don’t fuck me right now!”

“hm, is that so?” he had been resting on his side up until now, laying on his back and lifting you up with both hands under your arms. you found yourself sitting pretty in his lap, straddling him, legs on either side of his waist. “why don’t you work for it then? work for what you wanted so badly this entire time?”

you inhaled sharply, looking down at this fine specimen of a mutant under you made of pure muscle and adamantium with a noticeable tent in his pants, a cocky grin gracing his features daring you to continue. only a fool wouldn’t take up his challenge. biting the inside of your mouth, you began to fully strip yourself of all clothing, kicking it off to the side to be forgotten and showing off your beautiful bare body that logan has been dreaming about since the moment he met you. “take your clothes off too,” you huffed, “it’s not fair for me to be the only one naked.”

he hummed in agreement, taking off the upper half of his yellow and blue-detailed suit, revealing his rippling abs and pecs— age has yet to make a dent in his physique, he doesn’t even look real. he’s not going to remove the bottom half though, both because you’re already on top of him and because you still need to “work for it.” 

experimentally, you rolled your hips on his bulge, feeling a twinge of amusement when he visibly had to clench his jaw to prevent a moan from slipping out. he’s just as pent-up as you are, no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it right now. you fiddled with the metal of his zipper for a moment before pulling it down, motions fidgety with nerves yet still determined to see this through. 

your eyes widen at the sight of his fully erect cock, noting instantly that he’s bigger than any other guy you’ve been with, yet still feeling your mouth water at the size and the vein trailing its underbelly. “is it even going to fit?” you manage to breathe out, reaching out to run a finger over the leaking tip and hearing him hiss.

“only one way to find out, but i think you can take it.” 

placing your hands on his shoulders for balance, you put his theory to the test and raised your body to sink yourself onto him, whimpering at the pleasurable stretch when you manage to make it past the tip. you’re so fucking soaked from your own thoughts and the few minutes of foreplay earlier that you didn’t even need his fingers to prep you, just using your slick as a form of natural lube and feeling him slip into you inch by inch.

“that’s it, doll, just like that,” he praised, the words going right to your head, really enjoying the show of you struggling to take all of him.

“mmhh, lo—” his name came out in a more whiny voice than expected with your eyes rolling back and nails raking into his skin. your thighs were aching with the constant repetitive motion of working yourself up and down his cock, taking one step back for two steps forward, more than halfway there yet unsure if you could handle it all when you felt so impossibly full already.

“shhh, i know, i know, sweetheart— just take your time, i’m not going anywhere.” his words are so sweet despite being a complete asshole by laying back and letting you do all the hard work, hands behind his head and everything while watching his cock slowly disappearing between your folds.

you look at him through glossy half-lidded eyes, brain turned to absolute mush, not even realizing that you had finally taken him to the base and was comfortably nestled on his cock. it took a few moments to adjust to his girth, breathing heavily with the swelling feeling of satisfaction developing within you. you have barely even started, and yet it was already so much better than anything else— he was so much better than anyone else. 

“you okay?” he waits for you to blink to process his words before nodding slightly, letting out a soft ‘yeah’ before your eyes went wide when he suddenly grabbed your waist and positioned you under him once again. you didn’t notice because you went dumb with dick (to put it bluntly), but he had been restraining himself from flipping you over to be on top or trying to buck his hips into you before you were ready. 

he then started thrusting into you at a relentless pace, your hands flying up to his biceps and clinging on for dear life to find purchase. there was no frame to go with this mattress you were resting on, but you were sure it would be banging against the wall until it broke if it was there. your eyes were screwed shut with your head thrown back into the pillow, letting out pathetic pitched moans along with stutters of his name as the orgasm in your stomach builds.

“aah, lo-logan!”

“don’t worry, i got you,” he lazily circled your clit with his thumb, feeling you clench even more tightly at the action, “just let yourself go, relax— cum for me, doll.”

you cried out as your climax washed over you, gushing all over his cock and the pants of his suit that neither of you bothered to take off earlier. it’s a shame that you ruined his clothing so soon when he just got this costume, but honestly, he likes it a lot better when the yellow is stained with the evidence of how good he made you feel.

the way your walls spasmed around him made him quickly follow suit, shooting ribbons of his seed into you and painting your insides white. perhaps he would have been able to hold on for a bit longer when he was younger, but he can’t find himself caring in the least when you were looking up at him like he was everything right now.

he leaned down to kiss you, slowly pulling out of you, being careful not to rest on top of you and crush you under his weight, generally being uncharacteristically sweet towards you in stark comparison to how he was rocking your world like you were the last two souls on earth just a minute ago.

“so… do you like me?” it was the tone he grew accustomed to when you and wade were teasing him, feeling you wrap your arms around him with a sigh and snuggling into his chest.

“yeah… i like you a lot more than you think…”

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ brief suggestive content

"Why are we stopping here?"

Vacation was great. It was everything you needed, he needed, a perfect slice of memories now engrained in his brain, moving pictures tucked away for him to think about when he's trying to fall asleep alone on a cold, threadbare safehouse mattress.

Not to mention the hundred photos he took of you in that bikini.

But now, it comes to an end. Now, he's about to blindside you with painful, shocking reality.

He didn’t plan it like this, not really. The town is outside of the place he chose for vacation, but not close enough that it’s in a travel path. It’s far enough away from town, tucked into grassy hill, but still close enough to civilization. He’s not a monster, after all. He knows you wouldn’t appreciate being cut off from the world.

Plus, Price and his wife live a few clicks to the east.

"Simon?" He finds your hand, shutting the passenger door and leading you to the walk. “What is this?”

The words stick in his throat, and you watch him warily. “It’s… let’s just go inside.” The keys feel like an anchor in his pocket.

“What?” Your face twists in confusion. “Go inside?” You let go of his hand, and the sapphire sparkles in the sunlight. He reaches out of instinct.

“Mama-“

“Don’t ‘mama’ me… tell me what is going on.” You shirk out of his grasp.

“This is our house.” Your jaw drops.

“What?!” You shriek. “Our what?”

“Our house. I bought it, for us. F'you, and Orion.” You're standing a pace away from him now, too far for comfort, shuddering. When you clap a hand over your heart, his body goes cold. Stress. Stress can exacerbate your condition. "I need to keep you safe."

"I... I don't know what to say. You bought a house without asking me?" You're waspish, and he's too fast for you, too tactical. You're in his arms in a second, his fingers pressed to the artery below your jaw. It's too fast.

"Take a deep breath." He murmurs. "Try to calm down, everything is going to be fine."

"No!" You jerk backwards and he lets you go, bereft at the loss of your warmth against his chest. "You don't just get to blindside me with this and then think everything is going to be fine."

"I know. 'm sorry. I just... I need to keep you safe, sweetheart. You and the baby. Your flat is great but-"

"But nothing." You hiss and stomp away, before turning back, slicing through the air with an open palm. "My flat is great. It's my home! Mine and Orion's." You sniffle. "I thought it was yours too." Fuck.

"It is. It has been. But it's not safe. It's too exposed, there's no security, your windows face the street. The neighborhood is too difficult to disappear into and away from. It's too populated."

"Gaz and Cami live there." Not for long. He doesn't tell you about Gaz's long term plans, the ones that involve a house just over the hill. He doesn't think it would do him any favors right now.

"Will you just come inside and look at it, at least?" You shake your head. "It's not a bad drive to the beach. You could take Orion as much as you want. Teach him to swim. We could take as many vacations as you want, as a family. Please, give it a chance. That's all I ask." You cross your arms over your chest, but after a minute, nod.

"Fine."

The house is a blank slate. He didn't have time to get anything done, but he tries to pitch it as a selling point. "You'd be able to do whatever you want." You raise an eyebrow.

"Like paint the kitchen pink?" He swallows.

"Sure." You're trying to test him, punish him, but he's not upset. He can already tell you're starting to entertain it all. The house is triple the size of your flat, with three bedrooms, a sizable kitchen, even a garden.

He follows you around, your finger trailing over the walls, window sills, trying to hold his tongue, allowing you space to work through it in your mind. "What if I have to go into the office?"

"You said you never go into the office. You're completely remote." You glare.

"And how are you going to get here? It's so far from your base."

"There's a small airport to the east. We'll get in and out that way. It will be quick."

"We?" Shit.

"Ah, Price and his wife live, kind of close by." You blink, and then laugh out loud.

"You've got to be kidding me. Is this your plan? Some sort of weird commune for special task force wives?" It's the first time you've said, called yourself his wife, and his cock swells beneath the zipper on his jeans, possessive instinct flowing freely. "Don't."

"Don't what."

"I know that look." Still, you don't move as he stalks closer, close enough you're backed up against the windowsill in the master bedroom.

"What look mama?"

"The caveman look you get. Me husband, you wife." You try to imitate his accent, and he chuckles.

"I love you." You roll your eyes.

"I'm pissed at you." There's fire in you, one that burns too bright to be quelled by most, but he's made it is business to know you so well, he can tell when there's something simmering beneath the surface.

"But you like it." Your skin is satin soft, and he strokes your cheek.

"I do. I'm really mad, but I do like it. You... you did a good job."

"Gonna forgive me?"

"Depends." You smirk. "Are you going to earn it?" He presses himself to the inside of your thigh.

"How can I do that?"

"Want to christen our new bedroom?"

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @lavender-constellation

A/N: Thank you so much for commissioning again! Means a whole lot <3 Hope you like it, it was super fun to write.

Request: Two Co workers in an office setting where they have to work closely together every day, one is a male!werewolf, the other is a fem!bunny girl that experiences heat. Bunnygirl is going through heat, trying to focus on the task and trying not to run to the bathroom to masturbate. Werewolf notices this, they have a convo about her being in heat, and werewolf offers to help her out. She almost says yes but says no and is afraid it would be unprofessional, he gets closer to her and rubs her clit and she relents for the chance at relief and to focus back on work. He fingers her and eats her out in her cubicle. Aaaaand more scenes of him “helping” her out until eventually they just start fucking at her apartment before work It becomes an at least twice a day thing for the duration of her heat, half the time in The cubicle half the time in his car, both trying to convince themselves it’s just so she can focus on work again,(though werewolf is a little smug about it) and the werewolf is just helping her out as a coworking favor, nothing more, but they’re both secretly catching feelings.

The key to productivity

Werewolf x fem!werebunny || heat, oral sex, fingering, knotting, semi-public sex, dub-con (kinda?)

You told your doctor you were feeling weird and the blood tests came back positive. You were going into heat, and your suppressants stopped working. He told you he could give you different ones, but you would have to ride at least two heats before that. You tried to argue that you couldn’t do it, you had to work, you had stuff to do… But there was no other way around it.

That’s how you find yourself in the middle of your stupidly boring desk job shift when the first wave hit. You think you are dealing okay with it, moving a bit more than normal, but everything is going as normally would. The world feels a bit off, but you convince yourself you can do it. Nobody has to know. You can ride the heat off and be okay after it. You can. You are a strong werebunny and you can get through that and more. Totally…

Surprisingly for anybody: you cannot.

Your cubicle coworker, a big werewolf that you might or might not have a crush on is the first one to notice. “Why are you so restless?” He asks in the middle of your day.

You turn your chair around and look at him trying to look confused as you deny it. “I- I’m not restless.” As you say it, you start feeling the blush creeping at your cheeks, your ears twitching.

“Yes, you are. And,” he sniffs the air, “aroused?” You blush harder. “Are you going into heat?” His tone is teasing and you want to kick that stupid grin off his face. “Can I help?” He grins at you, such a puppy gesture that you want to kiss his stupid snout as he shows you his canines.

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused. There’s no way he’s offering what you think he’s offering, is it? There’s no way a big handsome werewolf like he wants you, a werebunny nobody. No way.

But to your surprise, he just rationalizes it. “We need to finish this project today, and we can’t if you keep being jumpy and stressed and clearly restless. Let me help. Smelling how wet you are I bet it won’t even take that long.” The way he says it like it meant nothing should have been offending, but instead it turns you on more, your pussy twitching over nothing as you whined low. You cover your mouth instantly, embarrassed. “Come on, it’s just sex between coworkers, just some friendly... helping out.” His tone is teasing but there’s a hint of heat under it.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you just because I smell…” You lower your tone, “like arousal.” You have to spit the last part out because you are so embarrassed you don’t even want to know how red your face is.

“I offered, remember? Also, you smell fucking delicious, I could eat you whole.” His confession makes you want to squirm, your brain sending alarm bells because of butterflies taking flight inside your tummy, but you ignore them. “Is that a yes? Can I touch your wet pussy?” His smirk is even more teasing now, and your pussy twitches again, your clit demanding attention.

You blush as you ask: “Why do you need to be so… crude?” His words are turning you on but you don’t want him to know that.

He smirks bigger, all his teeth showing and making you squirm under his heated eyes. “You like it, I can smell the spike of arousal when I tell you dirty things.” He sniffs the air and makes a humming noise, like he’s savoring your smell.

“Yo- You can?” You choked out, surprised by that but also embarrassed about it.

“Yes, I can. Your smell turns sweeter when I talk about licking your clit and finger fucking your tight pussy.” You groaned at his words, his crudeness indeed doing it for you. Damn him for being so fucking hot and filthy. And damn you for finding it extra hot.

“Okay,” you whisper. “You can help me.” In the back of your brain, there’s a voice saying that is going to be a bad idea, but you ignore that too, the voice that tells you to let him fuck you senseless is a lot louder.

“Hell yeah!” His enthusiasm shocks you, but you don’t have time to say anything. “Come here.” He didn’t let you move your chair, he grabbed it and pulled, positioning it next to his across the cubicle. You groaned, the manhandling apparently doing it for you, too. Good goddess, why was everything he did so hot?

He parts your legs with a forceful pull, making you groan and cover your mouth with your hand, once again dying of embarrassment. He chuckles and goes for it. You were never so happy to have worn a skirt in your life. He doesn’t even take your panties off, he pulls them to the side and starts rubbing your clit like a pro.

You are muffling your sounds as he chuckles and keeps going, acting uninterested as you squirm under his ministrations. Not two seconds later he has a finger in your pussy as his thumb circles over your oversensitive clit. And then he adds a finger, and by the time he has three, not even a minute has passed. Your pussy is so eager to get his attention that it feels like it’s claiming him, like it doesn’t want to let him go. And you… You can’t deny how good it is, how fucking filthy it feels to be finger fucked in the middle of the work day, in your cubicle, by tour werewolf coworker who you might or might not have a crush on.

And when he leans down and whispers against your ear: “You smell so fucking sweet. Can’t wait to eat you out.” The way he just assumes that’s gonna happen it’s what does it. As soon as he says that, you are coming around his fingers. The dirtiness of the situation making you orgasm in less than two minutes, how embarrassing. When you come down from the high he looks at you and asks softly: “Do you feel better?” You nod, too shy to say something.

He gets back to work and so do you. And it does help, you feel a lot more focused for a couple hours. But after that you go back to being restless and needy, your pussy sensitive and your panties dripping wet. This time around he goes under the table and eats you out until you are panting against your hand and your chair is so wet you have to get tissues to clean it afterwards.

That continues for a couple days. It starts only in the cubicle, but soon turns into hourly toilet trips, he tails after you like an eager puppy. It shouldn’t make you so happy, but it does. He finger fucks you, sucks your clit and pinches your nipples. He learns every single erogenous zone in your body and plays you like a fine instrument.

Every. Single. Hour.

By the third day, he suggests following you home to help you out a bit more. He goes down on you for at least three hours, making humming noises as he enjoys himself. You try to return the favor, but he stops you, going down on you once again and grunting as he jerks off while at it. You can’t think of anything more erotic than him jerking himself off with his big paw as he eats you out until his face is shiny with your juices. Having him there… Like that… It’s driving you a bit insane.

It’s the day before your heat ends when you start feeling it worse than ever, the last spike of It making you feel restless and anxious. You won’t stop moving, your legs bouncing up and down non stop and making him look at you with concern in his eyes. He fingers you under your desk once again, making you come messily as his other hand rubs your nipples over your dress. But it’s not enough, not nearly enough.

He helps you out like that two more times before you start whining. It’s too much but not nearly enough, and his concerned face only grows and grows. You don’t know what to tell him, your forehead is sweaty and your pussy is so wet you can feel it sticking to your chair. It makes you feel disgusting, but you can’t do nothing but to roll your hips in an effort to relieve some pressure, without any luck.

“Let’s get out of here,” he tells you after hearing you sigh for the thousand times in ten minutes. His eyes on you only make the heat stronger, your pussy wetter.

You look at him, your eyes unfocused, brain fuzzy. “What?” You look at him scandalized. There’s no way he’s suggesting what you think he’s suggesting.

“You need relief and I have a perfectly big car outside with tinted windows where I can knot you sweet pussy and get you more… focused.” You blush hard at his choice of words, your ears twitching at the top of your head. He’s right, you know he’s right, but you’ve never been knotted, what if…

“I’ve never been knotted,” you confess. He growls at you and you blush harder, the heat in his eyes turning molten lava when he looks down at you.

“That ends today.” He pulls at your arm and you try to suppress a giggle at his insistence. “Let’s go.”

Before you can think twice about it, or more like before your heat-fuzzy head lets you understand what’s fully happening, you are naked and spread in the back of his car. He pushes your legs against your chest, folding you almost completely and going right for your pussy. You’d never know somebody who enjoyed oral as much as him, good goddess does he love to eat pussy, specifically yours… And you can’t complain about it. He’s great at it and you are cumming before he has even two fingers inside your pussy.

When he comes back for air and looks up at you from between your legs, his face is all shiny with your juices and his perfect fucking smirk is showing all his canines, making a spark of danger grow inside of you and sending your arousal even higher.

“Please…” You beg in a broken moan, that’s the only word you can get out. Your heat-induced brain is completely off line seeing him like that, seeing him like the representation of lust and deprivacy. He’s your best wet dream turned into reality, and it’s driving you insane.

He seems to see something in your face because he’s suddenly smiling tenderly at you and unbuttoning his pants. “Okay, okay, I’ve got you.” His dick is so big, you’ve seen it before when he was jerking himself as he fingered you in the cubicle, but nothing could have prepared you for the feel of it.

He starts pushing inside slowly but surely, his dick so big you want to scream, but he covers your mouth before you can do it. He starts fucking you at a slow pace, letting you accommodate his girth, but it’s not enough. It feels like torture for you.

You urge him to go faster, harder, but it’s just a muffled moan against his palm. He seems to understand you either way, chuckling and complying. He fucks into you deep and hard, hitting your G-spot with every thrust and making your eyes roll back into your head as he grunts with every thrust.

“Are you ready?” You nod fervently, licking his hand and rolling your hips against his dick buried deep inside of you.

Your scream is muffled by his hand when the knot starts expanding in you. It’s exhilarating, way more than you expected. So big, so much, so wonderful… And then he starts coming in you and you feel every little twitch and spur of his come, making you dizzy with pleasure as you come and come and come… It feels like the longest and strongest orgasm of your life.

When the knot goes down and he helps you get back into your dress, slowly caressing your body while at it, you realize two things: 1) You could never live through a heat without a knot ever again, and 2) You might be a bit in love with your werewolf coworker.

Fuck.

Reminder that you can also commission me (info here).

[pucksandpower]

Racing Hearts

Lando Norris x cardiopulmonary technician!Reader

Summary: you’ve had a way of making Lando’s heart race since the moment he met you

You glance down at your clipboard as your next patient walks into the exercise physiology lab. “Lando Norris?” You ask, looking up with a smile.

The young British man grins back at you. “That’s me!”

“Excellent! I’m Y/N, I’ll be your technician today. We’re just going to do a simple cardiopulmonary exercise test to get some baseline numbers before the start of the season.”

Lando nods, looking around the lab curiously. “No problem, happy to be poked and prodded in the name of science and fast cars.”

You laugh as you gesture for him to take a seat. “Don’t worry, I promise to be gentle,” you joke. “I’m just going to put some electrodes on your chest to monitor your heart rate, then we’ll get you on the treadmill for the test.”

“Sounds good,” Lando says, settling onto the exam table.

You start placing the sticky electrode pads across his chest and ribs, trying not to blush at his shirtless state. Formula 1 drivers really are fit underneath those racing suits.

“So how’s preseason training going?” You ask conversationally as you work. “Think McLaren has a chance this year?”

Lando grins. “I’m feeling good! Me and the team have been putting in a lot of hard work over the winter. I’m definitely aiming higher than 6th in the championship.”

You smile as you finish placing the electrodes and motion for him to stand. “That’s the spirit. Alright, hop up on the treadmill and we’ll get you moving.”

Lando steps up onto the machine and you start it up slowly, increasing the speed in measured increments. “I’ll take you up to a brisk jog, then we’ll keep you there for about 10 minutes while I monitor your heart rate, breathing, and oxygen levels,” you explain.

“Sounds gucci,” Lando replies with a thumbs up, his breath starting to quicken as the treadmill pace increases.

You make sure the electrode leads are secure, then step back to observe the incoming data on the computer screen. Lando’s lean legs stride smoothly along the treadmill belt as you keep a close watch on his vitals, making notes on your clipboard. After a few minutes, you frown slightly at the heart rate readout. It seems unusually elevated for an elite athlete like Lando, even at this moderate jogging pace.

“How are you feeling Lando?” You call out. “Everything okay?”

“All … good,” he huffs out, face flushed from the exertion.

You hesitate, glancing between him and the concerning heart rate values on the screen. “It’s just that your heart rate is a bit higher than I would expect,” you say slowly. “Are you feeling any chest pain or tightness?”

Lando shakes his head. “No, no, nothing like that. I feel fine!” He insists breathlessly.

You bite your lip, still frowning. “Your heart rate is quite high though, over 85% of estimated max. For an experienced athlete I would expect values closer to 70-80% at this pace.”

“Oh … yeah, maybe it’s a bit high,” Lando acknowledges, starting to breathe harder. “But don’t worry about me, I’m fit as a fiddle!”

You reach over to slow the treadmill slightly. “Let’s bring the pace down a bit. I’m concerned about these heart rate readings. We should really have you checked out by a cardiologist before the season starts.”

Lando grabs the front handrails, shaking his head stubbornly. “No, no that’s not necessary, really! I’m fine, just maybe didn’t warm up enough.”

You give him a skeptical look. “Lando, as your technician I have to advise getting this looked at. Your heart rate is elevated beyond normal parameters.”

Lando chews his lip, glancing away evasively. “Um, well … maybe there’s a reason for that.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “What do you mean? Like a medical condition you haven’t told me about?”

“No, no nothing like that!” Lando says quickly. He mumbles something under his breath you can’t quite make out over the whir of the treadmill.

“Sorry, what was that?” You ask, leaning closer. “I couldn’t hear you.”

“Oh, uh … it was nothing,” Lando mutters, face reddening further.

You stop the treadmill completely so you can hear him better, folding your arms over your clipboard. “Lando, if there’s something I should know that’s affecting your test results, you need to tell me. As your technician, I really think we should get your heart looked at just to be safe.”

Lando locks eyes with you for a moment, hesitation written across his features. He mumbles again under his breath, so quietly you can’t discern the words.

You hold his gaze firmly. “One more time, please. It’s really important that I understand what’s going on so I can interpret these results accurately.”

Lando breaks eye contact, looking down at his feet. He kicks lightly at the motionless treadmill belt, before finally whispering. “It’s you, alright?”

You blink in surprise. “Me? What do you mean?”

Lando glances up at you briefly, his face now tomato-red. “You’re … the reason my heart rate is high,” he mumbles.

You stare at him in confusion. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

Lando groans, covering his face with his hands. “Because … I really fancy you, okay?” He admits, the words muffled into his palms. “You’re just … totally gorgeous and sweet and it makes me nervous and … my heart rate goes mad around pretty girls I like.”

Your eyes widen in understanding, feeling your own cheeks flush bright pink. “Oh! Oh ...”

Lando peeks out at you between splayed fingers. “Yeah, so that’s why it’s high. Not because I have some underlying heart condition.” He gives you a sheepish smile. “Just because my technician is really fit.”

You let out an awkward laugh, suddenly feeling shy. “Wow, uh … I’m flattered, Lando. I didn’t realize ...”

Lando drops his hands from his face, looking at you earnestly. “Sorry, is that weird? I know we just met and you’re doing your job.” He fidgets with the electrode wires across his chest. “Don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

You smile warmly back at him, feeling butterflies in your own stomach. “Don’t be silly. It’s not weird at all. Honestly, I, uh … also think you’re really cute,” you admit with bashful grin.

Lando’s eyes light up. “Yeah?” A wide, delighted smile spreads across his face.

You nod, laughing softly. “Yeah, I may have been trying not to blush myself with you shirtless here in my lab.”

“Well I’m certainly not complaining about the view either,” Lando says cheekily.

You smack his arm playfully. “I’m being professional here!”

“And doing a great job,” Lando says, smile softening. “But maybe once we’re done with all this boring medical stuff … we could get dinner? If you want?” He looks at you hopefully.

Your heart flutters with excitement. “I’d really like that.” You smile at each other giddily for a moment before you clear your throat. “But first, we really should finish your assessment properly.”

Lando laughs, nodding. “Of course, you’re the boss!”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Alright, hop back on the treadmill. And this time just focus on your breathing and try not to make eyes at the pretty technician,” you tease.

“No promises there,” Lando quips with a grin as he steps back onto the belt.

You just smile and shake your head as you start up the machine once more, unable to keep your own heart rate from quickening in anticipation of what promises to be a very special dinner date after the test is complete.

***

Several Months Later

You glance down nervously at your paddock pass as you make your way through the crowded paddock. As an unofficial member of Lando’s training team now, you have full access to the exclusive behind-the-scenes world of Formula 1. But despite months of dating the British driver, the glamorous circus still feels surreal.

Dodging golf carts and important looking people with headsets, you head for the McLaren garage. Lando had told you to meet him there before the start of the race. Your heart flutters, as it always does at the thought of seeing him again.

“Y/N!” Lando greets you brightly as you enter the garage. Engine roars echo around you as mechanics make final tweaks to the cars before wheeling them to the grid.

“Good luck today!” You tell Lando, leaning up on your toes to kiss him sweetly.

“With you here, how can I lose?” He grins down at you. His energy is infectious.

You chat together as the cars are lined up on the starting grid, Lando bouncing excitedly in his race suit. You squeeze his gloved hand. “Be safe out there.”

“Always am, love.” He winks before pulling on his helmet and climbing into the cockpit.

You make your way back to the McLaren hospitality suite to watch the start of the race. Your heart pounds as the lights go out and the F1 cars launch forward in a roar of engines. Lando makes a clean getaway, slotting into P5 heading into the first turn.

The race unfolds smoothly, Lando maintaining his position in the top five. You watch tensely on the monitors, hands clenched.

But on lap 38, disaster strikes. Heading into a fast sweeper, the Red Bull of Sergio Perez attempts a risky overtake maneuver on Lando’s inside. They collide in a shower of carbon fiber and a plume of smoke.

You gasp sharply as Lando’s car spins off into the gravel trap, coming to rest against the barrier at an abrupt stop. The McLaren crew monitor the radio channels anxiously.

“Lando, are you okay mate?” His engineer asks urgently.

“Yeh … I’m okay ...” Lando’s labored voice comes back. “Bit winded but I’m alright.”

You breathe a deep sigh of relief along with the crew. The medical car is quickly dispatched to the scene. Lando climbs unsteadily from the battered car, sitting down in the gravel trap as he awaits assistance.

Your adrenaline surging, you take off from the garage the moment you see Lando is out of the car safely. Jogging through the paddock, you make your way swiftly to the medical center.

As you rush in, Lando is just being helped onto an examination table by two medics. He’s dusty and sweaty, his hair sticking up at all angles from where he pulled off his helmet. But otherwise he seems intact.

“Lando!” You hurry over, emotions welling up at seeing him battered but in one piece.

“Y/N, hey ...” Lando greets you with a weary but reassuring smile. He reaches for your hand which you clutch tightly.

One medic cuts away the top of Lando’s racing suit, placing electrodes on his chest to monitor his heart rhythm. You hover anxiously as they check him over.

“Heart rate is quite elevated,” the doctor frowns as he reads the monitor. He glances between you and Lando with concern. “Any chest pain or tightness?”

Lando huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. He looks up at you, his green eyes glinting. “Nah, doc. She’s the reason for the fast heartbeat.”

You feel your cheeks flush as Lando grins. The medic looks confused.

“See, ever since Y/N came into my life, she’s made my heart race a mile a minute,” Lando explains cheekily.

You smack his arm but can’t help laughing too. Trust Lando to still be flirting from a hospital bed.

“Ah, young love,” the doctor chuckles. “Well, your heart may beat for her, but let’s still do a full check to be safe.”

Lando nods agreeably, though his gaze stays fixed on you. He winces slightly as they palpate his ribs and abdomen, checking for injuries.

You cling to his hand, emotionally drained from the scare but overwhelmed with relief that he seems okay. Lando keeps stealing glances at you through the examination.

Finally the doctor steps back. “All done. Amazingly, you’ve escaped with just some bruising. No breaks or internal injuries. You were lucky today.”

The medic packs up his equipment. “Get some rest and ice those sore spots. But overall good news. No reason you can’t race in two weeks’ time.”

“Phew, that’s a relief!” Lando says. He thanks the doctors as you help him down from the table.

Arm wrapped supportively around him, you make your slow way out of the medical center towards the McLaren motorhome.

“Thank you for being here,” Lando murmurs, leaning his head on your shoulder as you walk.

You kiss his dusty hair. “I’m just glad you’re okay. You scared me to death out there!”

“I know, sorry about that, love. It happened so fast.” He lifts his head to look at you sincerely. “But I’m alright. Just grateful to have you by my side.”

You stop, turning to face him fully. Reaching up, you caress his cheek gently. “I’ll always be right here by your side.”

Lando’s eyes shine. “Is it cheesy to say you make my heart race in the best way?”

Laughing softly, you pull him into a tender kiss. For this brief moment, nothing else matters but the two of you.

Lando sighs contentedly when you eventually pull back. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

You squeeze his hand, smiling up at him. “The feeling’s mutual. Now let’s get you rested up. I want my favorite driver back to full fitness ASAP.”

With his arm wrapped warmly around your shoulders, you’re reminded that no matter what challenges life brings, your hearts will keep racing together as one.

***

It’s a quiet night and you and Lando are cuddling in bed together after a long day. Lando’s arms are wrapped securely around you, your head resting comfortably on his chest. His fingers idly trace delicate patterns along your back as you lay pressed close, breathing in sync.

Though it’s late, you can tell Lando’s mind is still wide awake, trailing far from the coziness of your shared bed. His pensive silence prompts you to prop yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him with a curious smile.

“Penny for your thoughts, love?”

Lando blinks up at you before giving a small, distracted smile. “Oh, it’s nothing really ...”

You raise a knowing eyebrow. “Lando, I can always tell when something’s on your mind.” You brush a lock of hair back from his forehead tenderly. “Talk to me?”

Lando chews his lip, eyes darting away evasively. Finally he lets out a long breath, arms tightening around your waist. “I guess … I’ve just been thinking about when I picked you up earlier today.”

You think back to the afternoon when Lando swung by your lab after work like usual. “What about it?”

“Well, when I pulled up out front, I saw one of your patients leaving the exercise center,” Lando explains. His brow furrows slightly. “Some tall, muscular bloke in running shorts.”

“Oh, that was probably Brandon — he’s a sprinter I had in for VO2 max testing,” you reply casually before pausing. “Wait … you’re not jealous, are you?”

“No! No, of course not,” Lando says quickly. But the way his eyes shift away makes you think otherwise.

You frown slightly, snuggling closer against his chest. “Lando, you know you have absolutely no reason to be jealous. I only have eyes for you,” you murmur reassuringly.

Lando sighs, arms tightening around your back. “I know, I know. It’s stupid ...” He trails off, looking conflicted.

You lay a comforting hand along his jaw. “Talk to me, love. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Lando meets your earnest gaze, emotions swirling in his eyes. “I just … I wonder sometimes why you picked me, you know? You meet guys like that every day. And I’m just ...” he shrugs self-consciously.

Your heart squeezes at the vulnerable admission. You tenderly stroke Lando’s cheek. “Hey … you listen to me. You’re the only one I want. All those other athletes are just patients to me. But you ...” You smile down at him adoringly. “You’re the one who makes my heart race with just a look. The one I want to spend all my time with. The one I love with my entire heart.”

The corner of Lando’s mouth lifts in a faint, tentative smile at your words. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” you whisper fervently. Leaning down, you capture his lips in a sweet, loving kiss. “You’re my once in a lifetime, Lando. My soulmate. Meeting you was destiny.”

Lando’s arms wrap tightly around you again, the last of the tension fading from his frame. “I’m sorry I got all insecure like that. I know I’m being silly.” He presses an apologetic kiss to your hair. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You nuzzle your face lovingly against his neck. “You were just yourself — that funny, charming, incredible guy I fell for the moment we met.” You lift your head to meet his eyes again. “I never stood a chance. My heart was yours from the start.”

A smile breaks across Lando’s face at last. “I really am the luckiest bloke in the world, aren’t I?”

“Damn right you are,” you say teasingly, making him laugh. Your expression softens. “But truly, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. My heart only races for you. It always will.”

Lando’s eyes gleam with renewed confidence and adoration as he rolls you both over so he’s hovering above you. “Well in that case, what do you say we get your heart racing again?” He murmurs playfully, brushing his nose against yours.

You grin up at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I’d say you’re on.”

Lando’s smile widens as he dips his head to meet your lips in a passionate kiss. Your pulse immediately quickens at his touch, heart thrumming as you arch up into him.

When Lando finally pulls back for air, his eyes are dancing. “Yep, definitely racing,” he laughs breathlessly, lifting your hand to his lips to kiss your pulse point.

You shake your head in amusement, heart overflowing with love for this man. “You’re the only one for me. Today, tomorrow, and always.”

Lando’s smile softens to something tender and reverent. “And you’re my once in a lifetime, Y/N.” He brushes his thumb along your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper. And as his lips find yours again, you let yourself get lost in his kiss, your racing hearts beating as one.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Save a Horse

Tyler Owens x fem!reader

summary: you and your best friend, Tyler decided to test the waters and take your friendship to the next level, unbeknownst to the both of you that you’re in love with each other.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v)

The bar was hazy when Tyler walked into it, a line dance already in formation. He didn’t even want to be there, but he was trying to make himself actually get out there again. He hadn’t been on a date in what felt like ages, so he was a little rusty, but a few beers should have fixed that. Despite his looks, he wasn’t very good with the ladies. Any time he would try to flirt, it came off offensive or borderline sexist because he got a little too cocky. But this was his night. He was desperate to get laid, his hand no longer doing the job.

He made a beeline for the bar and ordered a beer, surveying the area for whoever he was going to take home for the night. There were a lot of pretty women and he was trying not to be picky. This was just to get him back out there. The sex didn’t have to be good and it certainly didn’t have to mean anything.

His eyes locked on a pretty blonde that was on the other side of the bar, barely visible through all of the dancing bodies. She was already staring him down, sipping on a drink with a straw and Tyler was wondering what else she was willing to suck on. He downed half of his beer and made a beeline for her, trying to go around the dancing crowd so as to not get caught in it.

But then he heard something, someone who stopped him in his tracks. He turned his head to the left and sure enough, there you were, arguing with someone like you always seemed to be doing.

You were beautiful. So much so that he couldn’t help but stare. You were dressed in a black tank top that was tucked into a pair of very short denim shorts and a pair of black cowboy boots were on your feet. Before he could stop himself, his feet were gaining a mind of their own as they carried him over to you.

He finally stood at your side, but you were paying him no attention, your argument with the stranger still going strong. You looked seconds away from pulling out your earrings and hitting the man. And as much as Tyler knew he should have stopped you, he kind of wanted to see you do it. You had a bad temper you never took out on anyone who didn’t deserve it.

“I don’t understand why you won’t just give me a chance,” the man said. That seemed to unleash something in you because you stepped closer to him, nothing but fire in your eyes. Tyler wasn’t a fan of how he still found you so hot when you got angry. The way your eyes would be filled with fire and your nose would twitch and your mouth would twist as you were trying to decide what you were going to say next.

There were so many times where he wanted to kiss you when he had done something to upset you. Clearly nothing had changed since he was staring directly at your mouth, watching your lips move. They were painted with a red gloss, making them even more inviting. But nothing was coming out of them. The place was loud but not loud enough to where he couldn’t hear what you were saying when you were only like a foot away from him.

“Maybe because you slapped my ass?” You replied, surely seconds away from beating this guy up. Tyler’s eyes widened, hurrying to stand beside you before he could stop himself.

“You did what?” He asked in shock.

“You bent over to grab a pool ball that fell off the table and you’re saying I wasn’t supposed to smack it?” Tyler cracked his knuckles, wanting to hit the guy himself.

“Yes,” you and Tyler replied in unison. You turned to him and he looked good. Almost too good. The scruff on his face did him well and the cowboy hat on top of his head looked far better than it should have. His white t-shirt clung to his body and you hated how much his jeans hugged his waist.

You wanted him, and bad. So much so that the man had been the starring lead in your fantasies that you had come up with every night before you went to bed. You had been in love with him for years, wondering why you hadn’t asked him out when you had the chance. He was so sweet and caring and you wished that you had been the one he had flirted with when he had a few drinks in him.

“And who are you?” Tyler asked, draping an arm over your shoulder. You loved when he got like this, all authoritative, taking control of the situation. If it had been up to you, you would have taken him right then and there.

“Who are you?” The man replied as it he had the right to be angry with either of you. Tyler felt the need to protect you, even though he knew you didn’t need saving. He just wanted to drape his arm over your shoulder to let everyone know you were his.

Well, that was what he wanted you to be. You had never gotten to that point and it was all his fault. He had been too afraid to make your friendship something more. He was stuck in the friendzone where he had put himself for years, kicking himself for not asking you out the first night he met you.

“I’m her boyfriend so I suggest you move along before I have Enrique throw you out.” You could take care of yourself just fine, but something about Tyler always jumping in to protect you always made you feel a little wet in your panties.

The man just muttered something under his breath before turning away, not wanting to get kicked out again. With him gone, you turned on your heel, heading back to the bar to order a much needed shot with Tyler hot on your heels.

Tyler couldn’t help but let his eyes drop to your ass, and watching it move as you walked in your tight shorts was torture to the man. He always found himself wanting to get a handful for himself, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he kissed you until you were breathless, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You’d let out a loud moan and he’d grab you by the backs of your legs, helping you wrap them around him-

You stopped at the bar and ordered a drink before turning to face Tyler as shots of tequila were set on the bar, as if the bartender could read your mind. You reached for both and handed one of them to your best friend.

“Drink up, Owens,” you nudged him and you both downed the shots, feeling it burn all the way down. You both slammed the empty glasses down on the bar and you eyed him, wondering what he would have said if you had invited him to the bathroom right that second.

There was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite make out. A look that you didn’t recognize in any way, shape or form. They were soft and sweet, just like you remembered. In that moment, you could feel your anger towards him falling away. You could never be mad at him for too long, especially not when you looked into those beautiful green eyes and this time, you could tell that he wasn’t trying to use that to his advantage.

“Thank you for that,” you said, nodding your head towards where you both had just been. “And to thank you, I’m adding your drinks to my tab.”

“That’s real sweet, darlin’, but you don’t need to thank me.” That nickname always managed to make you absolutely melt, loving the way it fell from his lips so naturally. “Just your friendship is enough,” he winked.

“Oh, shut up,” you went to shove his shoulder, but he was quick to grab your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

“Alright,” he took another sip of his beer. “Dance with me,” he said, tilting his head up a little.

“Dance with you?” You had no idea what he was talking about, wondering if he was expecting you to read his mind. If you had been able to do that, you definitely wouldn’t have been working at the bar part-time.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Dance with me as your thank you.” He couldn’t be serious.

“Yeah, not happening,” you shook your head. One thing you didn’t do under any circumstances was dance. A ballet recital gone wrong when you were ten made you swear off the activity entirely, never wanting to be embarrassed like that again.

“No way.”

“Fine,” he took another sip of his beer. “Then I’ll just dance by myself.” He slowly headed to the dancefloor, giving you every opportunity to back out if you didn’t want to do it. His hand moved back, his palm facing you as he continued to head to the dance floor, wiggling his digits to get your attention.

You rolled your eyes even though his back was to you and reluctantly put your hand in his. Tyler pulled you out onto the makeshift dance floor and the two of you somehow ended up directly in the center. He was able to quickly pick up the routine while you were left to flounder, moving awkwardly because of your hands that were still attached.

You watched him move so effortlessly, feeling odd being right next to him since you were always there on the sidelines when he was a part of it. He’d smile at you as you sat at the bar, waving you over, but you always shook your head. But now that you were finally dancing with him, he was hoping that it could become a regular thing.

He liked the way your shoulders would brush when you moved the wrong way and the way you’d squeeze his hand to communicate that you were nervous. You turned the way that you thought you were supposed to go but ended up bumping into Tyler, nothing but a chuckle falling from his lips as he looked down at you.

“Follow me, okay?” He asked and you nodded. “Turn around.” You did as he asked and turned around, your back facing him. His hands slowly moved up to your waist, letting them make a home there. He had touched you there multiple times when he had hugged you, but this was entirely different. So close to the way you had wanted him to touch you, but not nearly enough.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, his lips right by the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Of course you trusted him. Maybe more than you should have.

“Of course,” you responded with a nod.

“Follow my lead, darlin’.” It was as if he was trying to drive you crazy. Like he knew the exact effect he had on you. But he had too, right? This was all an elaborate way to get you to admit that you had feelings for him. Well, two could play that game.

You kept in rhythm with him, slowly but surely backing up to him, your ass right up against his crotch. You gingerly began to grind on the spot, resisting the urge to turn and see his reaction. You could tell he was enjoying it just by the way his fingers were digging into your waist.

You moved the two of you out of the way of the dancers and continued to grind on Tyler, your movements still slow, but harder now. You could hear his breathing pick up, feeling his nose brush your jaw, his breath on your neck sending another chill up your spin.

He never thought the two of you would be dancing like this, the movements so sensual and sexy. You knew exactly what you were doing and it was fucking unfair. He could feel his cock hardening and pretty soon, he wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore.

“This isn’t the right dance,” he chuckled.

“I know,” you nodded. “But don’t you like this more, Owens? I can feel you getting hard.” Just when you were going to really take it home, you were suddenly turned around, a gasp leaving your mouth at the sudden movement. Your hands landed on his chest and Tyler’s hands rested on your lower back, pulling you as close to him as possible.

You leaned closer to him, your lips brushing his and the man was convinced he was a goner. He could feel your gloss that had transferred to his own lips and wanted it other places, anywhere you could get your lips. He loved the idea of being covered in your kisses, the prints leaving your mark behind.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, sugar,” he said, his voice low, raspy. And it was doing wonders for you. He was so hot and you were having a hard time not making a move anymore.

“Oh, I fully intend on finishing,” you responded, finally pressing your lips to his. His eyes widened at your actions, but he was quick to melt into you, his lips catching yours slowly.

His arms wrapped around your waist even tighter, pulling you as close to him as possible. Yours wrapped around his neck, your hands running through his hair at the back of his head.

Your head felt like it was swimming, his lips more soft than you could have ever imagined. He tasted like the beer he had been drinking, mixed with something else you couldn’t quite make out. It was sweet and sour.

You pulled away before it could get too heated and Tyler admired the lip gloss that had smeared across your face, very tempted to go back in for more. His thumb swiped across your cheek to help get rid of it, but that didn’t seem to help, only smearing it further.

The weight of what you had done was catching up to you. You had just kissed your best friend. You had just kissed your best friend and you liked it. You had only gotten a taste but now you wanted more. All of him. You wanted to finally make your fantasies a reality.

And you couldn’t. You couldn’t do that without completely complicating your friendship and you really liked what the two of you had. It was really nice at first, to have a friend without all of the “feelings” bullshit, but now you had actually fallen for him. And hard.

“Fuck,” the word fell from Tyler’s lips, his voice somehow getting even more raspy, making you even more wet. God, you really were fucked, and not in the way you wanted to be.

“Do you wanna take this out to my truck?” You asked, your hands lazily moving up and down his back.

“I’d love to take this out to your truck,” he replied, pressing his lips to yours before paying your bills and leading you out of the bar, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

You rifled through your purse, looking for your keys and found them before unlocking your truck. Tyler opened the driver’s seat door for you before helping you into it. He then closed the door and rounded the hood before getting into his own seat.

You peeled out of the parking lot and sped down the road, thankful for how late it was so there was little traffic. Your heart pounded as you pulled into what looked like an abandoned parking lot.

Why you were scared of what you were about to do, you didn’t know. Tyler was sweet and you knew that he would do whatever he could to make you comfortable. He was nothing but a sweetheart and would make you feel good, stopping at nothing to do so.

You put the car in park and turned it off before turning toward Tyler. You stared at each other, the only thing that could be heard was the radio playing a soft country song. You turned the volume up to attempt to drown out your thoughts. What the hell were you doing? You didn’t know, but you were fully prepared to dive right in.

Tyler reached out, placing a hand on your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, his lips ghosting over yours, almost as if he was afraid to go for it. That confidence from the bar completely evaporated into the air.

You took the lead, pressing your lips to his, your movements more rushed and rough as you nipped at his bottom lip. He let out a little whine and that was enough to make you absolutely soaked.

Rain pattered against the car as you slotted your lips together once more before pulling away. You climbed over the center console and placed yourself into his lap, straddling him.

Tyler looked up at you, his pupils blown and his lips smeared with your lipgloss. It was an adorable sight and you hated how good he looked in that goddamn hat. You took the hat off of his head and put it on your own, moving your head this way and that, modeling it for him.

“How do I look?” You asked, turning your head to the side and he just laughed.

“You look good,” he nodded.

“As good as you?”

“Even better,” he replied, pulling you in for another kiss, removing the hat from your head and setting it on the driver’s seat.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth, letting it swirl around yours and a moan fell from your lips at the sensation. His hands slipped into your back pockets, giving your ass a squeeze and you gasped into his mouth which only made him do it again.

You began to grind against him as your tongues tangled together and you could hear a groan in the back of his throat. The whole thing was overstimulating for him, there was no way he was going to ask you to stop any time soon.

Your hands rested on his chest as you kissed him, this one slow and gentle, as if you two had all the time in the world, and right there, in that abandoned parking lot, you did. Your tongues tangled as you continued to grind into him, your underwear getting soaked as you felt his dick forming a tent in his pants.

Tyler’s hands moved to your shorts as you reached down on the side of the seat in search of the lever that leaned it back. You found it with ease and leaned the chair back as far as it would go as you let Tyler take what he wanted from you, you pliant to his every move.

You both struggled to pull down your shorts, laughing because of how small the space was. Maybe there was a reason why neither of you ever did this kind of thing. He got them down to your ankles and you moved so he could take off his jeans, his belt buckle making a clattering noise as it hit the tops of his boots.

You both removed your shirts and Tyler eyed the black lacy number you were wearing. His hand moved up to run over the fabric of the tops of the cups, his fingers brushing your skin every so slightly.

“Like what you see?” You asked, leaning down a little so he could get a better look at your cleavage. And you had him right where you wanted him, catching him staring right at it. You scooted up so that they were right in front of his face and he brought his lips to the skin, pressing a soft to it.

He then moved up, his lips now connected with your neck, his tongue swiping back and forth as he began to suck. You moved your head to give him more access and that caused him to nip at your skin, another gasp falling from your lips.

“So good,” you moaned, your eyes shutting. He continued to work, having every intention of creating a hickey right there underneath your ear. He licked and sucked, pulling the most delicious moans from your mouth.

To test the water, he grazed the skin with his teeth and you moaned loudly, reaching your orgasm. God, you were so fucking hot, the way you were able to make the most pretty sounds and look pretty while doing it. The sweat already forming on your skin, making you look absolutely irresistible.

You helped him get his underwear down and realized there was no going back as he cock sprang free from it. It was hard as a rock and probably the biggest you had ever seen. Who knew that your best friend was packing so much? Clearly you didn’t.

You pulled a condom from your purse and rolled it onto his cock before placing yourself on top of it, both of you moving awkwardly as you got used to each other in that way. Your hands rested on his shoulder as his head went to your waist, helping you move, riding him slowly.

You picked up the pace, and Tyler couldn’t help but watch you, feeling himself getting close just by looking at you. The cause of his wet dreams right on top of him, almost convincing him that he had been in one.

He let out a moan of his own and you looked down at him, your eyes darkening as you did so. You had barely even done anything as he already looked blissed out. This had to be a record. Knowing that you could do that to someone gave you so much power and you got more confident, moving as fast and as hard as you could.

Tyler let out another moan, his own scream climbing up his throat, his fingers digging into your waist, surely forming bruises. His head was back against the headrest, his eyes shut tight as another scream ripped through him, his breathing labored.

His hands moved up your back, his nails gliding down it, leaving scratches and your back arched at the movement, reaching your own orgasm. But you stayed there, seeing if you could get one more from him before taking a break before going for round two.

“Holy shit,” he moaned. “You really know what you’re doing,” he said through breaths.

His hands scratched up your back as you watched him, seeing that he was close again. A final loud moan fell from his lips and you slowed down your pace but kept moving, another orgasm rolling through you.

You sat there, staring at each other, your chests rising and falling as you did so. You never thought you would have ever gotten to that place with Tyler, but there you were, sitting on top of his dick, having just had the best sex of your life. And it hadn't even lasted that long.

“I have an idea. And hear me out, okay?” He asked, his hands moving up and down your arms lazily.

“Okay.”

“What if-what I want you to be the only one I sleep with?” Your eyes widened at his words, but you had to admit that you loved the idea. There was no way you could fuck anyone else after that. He had ruined you for any other man.

“Oh, so like friends with benefits?” So you didn’t understand. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. He wanted you to be his. Solely exclusive with him. His girlfriend. The one he went to bed with every night and woke up to every morning.

“I love you, y/n,” he said, sitting up, taking you into his arms, looking you in the eyes so you knew he was serious. This wasn’t exactly how he had planned on telling you, but he supposed that this was a good a time as any.

“I love you too, Tyler,” you replied, pressing your lips to his, this kiss sweeter than the others, both of you smiling into it. “Be mine?”

“Oh, darlin’,” he let out a chuckle, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I always was.”

[runariya]

Beyond Probability JJK (m.)

summary: Matching with an idol? Unlikely. But with a 99% compatibility? Beyond probability. pairing: idol!Jungkook x f!reader genre: idolvers, S2L, fluff, smut rating: 18+, MDNI! warnings: fluff, fluff, a bit of self doubt, fluff, fluff, explicit sexual content, shower sex, unprotected sex, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 4k

a/n: It’s a rly cute and short oneshot, light and mainly fluff, nothing too deep, no big words etc this time. Just had to get it out of my system since the idea’s been on my mind for months now (unedited bc I fell ill halfway through writing it 🤒)

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

Your biological clock’s ticking—has been for some years now—and even though you’re only now nearing 30, you’re painfully aware that the life you pictured as a kid might never come true.

It’s not like you’re unstable in who you are or what you’re doing. You’re fairly successful at your job, you’ve got your own place, and you’re more social than most people these days. Still, you’re only what most would call average-looking, and even though you’ve got a good career, you’re too soft to keep it up forever. You picture yourself more as a loving wife and mother than a corporate boss bitch climbing the ladder of success.

That’s also why your dating life has been rocky all along. Men see what you put out there, but they don’t like who you really are or what you want from life, which has left you single for most of it.

So, when a new project starts—after the K-pop industry finally acknowledges that idols need partnerships and a life of their own, and fans finally understand that these people are human too, that they deserve to experience love and happiness like everyone else—you decide to take your chances too.

Funnily enough, all the labels have teamed up, hiring not only the best scientists and psychologists from Korea but from around the world to create a program that can find ideal matches for their idols. Sure, science shouldn’t determine who you fall in love with, but… what if it could?

After being pre-selected—just to confirm you’re not some crazed fan—you’ve spent over two weeks going through tests. Recorded interviews, personality assessments, even physical evaluations… now you’re staring at your company’s computer screen, listening to Dr. Song explain the results through the phone. 

“Ninety-nine percent?”

“Yes. The chances of such a high compatibility score are next to impossible. We see it as a perfect match and would like to introduce you to your match.”

“Sure, of course.” Even though your voice is steady, you can feel your nerves flaring up like never before.

“Is tomorrow at 8 p.m. alright for you?”

“Yes, that works for me.”

“Perfect, we’ll see you then.”

Well, joke’s on you, you didn’t expect this outcome. 

Meeting an idol feels surreal, and the closer you get to 8 p.m. the next day, the more you can feel the anxiety and doubts inside you rising. Every last detail in Dr. Song’s calm, clinical rundown replays in your mind, the ninety-nine percent match, the endless rounds of testing, the surreal realisation that, somehow, all those numbers and algorithms miraculously spat out a name next to yours. 

You want to trust that there’s a reason for this, that somehow science isn’t just working with chance, but the tension of actually meeting someone this special is so overwhelming you barely notice yourself entering the lab building until you’re standing outside Dr. Song’s office.

“Right on time,” she chirps, giving you an approving nod. She seems to sense your nerves, and as she leads you down a hallway you’ve never been before, she gives you a reassuring smile. “I know this is all a lot. But he’s likely feeling the same way. The tests told us that he’s, well, quite like you.”

Her words would make you laugh in any other situation, though disbelief and a strange kind of comfort floods through you still. Like you. An idol, standing here in a lab somewhere to meet some random stranger, feeling just as out of place as you. You’re not sure of that but still like to think it must be true. 

You don’t have time to process it fully before you’re led into a quiet room with yellowish walls so plain they almost blur in the corners of your vision, a low, comfortable couch and a couple of chairs standing there and none of the lab equipment that surrounded you in the testing rooms all those weeks ago. 

And then you spot him, sitting on the couch, alone. He stands the second you walk in, hands half in his pockets, a slight, almost unsure smile grazing his lips as he glances down at you. He’s got that casual look about him, the same dark eyes you’ve seen a hundred times on a screen that somehow feel warmer and more human here. 

He looks not quite better than he does on screen, but not worse either. Somehow, he’s realer, if that’s a word—close enough that you can see the little flecks of colour in his irises, the slight tension in his posture, the faintest trace of nerves hiding under his composure.

“Hi.” Jungkook’s voice is lower, softer than you expect from an idol. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m ___.” There’s a pause, and you can tell he’s just as unsure what to do with the space between you two as you are. The click of the door makes you turn around briefly, only to realise Dr. Song has left you both alone. “This is, um, weird, right?”

He nods, a quick, breathy laugh breaking through. “Very. I mean, this isn’t exactly a ‘normal’ kind of meeting, right?”

His words are awkward but disarming, and suddenly, you’re aware of all the tiny, meticulous details of him that somehow make him feel more relatable than his polished, on-screen persona. The way his hand keeps moving to rub against his thigh or abs, his tongue playing with his lips and piercing ever so slightly—everything about him is familiar but also somehow close enough to feel completely new.

“I don’t think I was ready for this,” you admit. You aren’t really talking to him but more like letting your own thoughts slip out in the safest way possible, like saying it makes it feel less absurd.

“Honestly, same.” He laughs, and you think there’s a light flutter in your chest now. “I kept thinking about this whole ninety-nine percent thing. Like… how does that even work? Isn’t it supposed to feel, I don’t know, obvious? Like you know the moment you see someone?”

You nod, understanding exactly what he means, and somehow you move on autopilot, walking towards him and sitting down on that couch with him beside you. It feels like you should both somehow know, like there’s a sign or an instant connection, something that would make all of this feel simple, easy. But it’s just the two of you in a quiet room, barely knowing each other, held together by nothing but a number on a report.

“Yeah, that’s so wild. I didn’t think I’d have a match, this close to a hundred even less. Might be a glitch if our score is this high.”

Jungkook nods with sparkling eyes, seemingly relieved by your honesty and humour. “Yeah, I get that. I kept thinking about it too. Wondering if maybe the tests were wrong, or maybe I was just…thinking too much.” He lets out a sigh, his gaze meeting yours for a long, meaningful second. “But I think maybe this is about finding out, right? Not having it all make sense right away.”

“Hm, makes sense.” You giggle, because what else can you do in the presence of him.

The two of you sit there in a momentary silence, as if testing each other, feeling out the small boundaries that keep you both distant.

“So, what did the report tell you about me?” You ask the question half-jokingly, trying to break the quiet, but also curious. You want to know what he knows, how much of this supposed ninety-nine percent compatibility is actually something that either of you feel. 

He lets out a silent breath, looking down as if slightly embarrassed. “Honestly, not as much as you’d think. They told me you were kind of… soft-spoken but resilient? And that you have a job that’s, uh, stable and…” He trails off, the tips of his ears slightly pink, like he’s embarrassed to keep going.

“And?” You can’t help but push further—not maliciously, just way too curious and playful for your own good. Jungkook’s expression shifts from embarrassed to surprised, and then to a look that’s just as playful.

“And that we’re, apparently, very much sexually compatible.”

Really, you should be the one feeling embarrassed or shy now, but you can’t help the laugh that slips out. You know exactly what he’s hinting at—your report clearly showed the same.

“Well, it might be not wrong. And they told me…” You pause, realising that you barely remember the details in the face of the reality in front of you but alas. “They said you’d be a good match because, I think, there was something about humour?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Humour? Never heard of it.” And it makes you laugh all over again. “I feel like they just told us things we’d want to hear, to make it seem easier and normal.”

His words hit close to home, but they’re strangely comforting in the way he says them. You reckon, he’s just as bewildered by this as you are, maybe even more so. And somehow, in the middle of all the awkwardness, you find yourself genuinely smiling at him, naturally gravitating towards him, finding that there’s a softness and reassurance in his gaze, a gentleness that cuts through your nerves like a knife through melted butter in the sun. 

You start talking more freely after that, exchanging stories that are too mundane to make sense in any real context but feel right here. You tell him about your last trip to the beach, how you got sunburned and spent the whole evening sitting on your balcony, nursing it with iced water and aloe, wishing for a helping hand that you didn’t have. He laughs, nodding along as if he can picture it exactly and tells you about how he tried to make pasta he ate in Italy for the first time a few months back and ended up burning the whole batch, because no one was by his side, so badly his kitchen smelled like smoke for days.

The more you talk, the more you notice the little things about him that aren’t so polished, aren’t so perfect, and make him feel more human and real than anyone you ever met. He has a way of listening, eyes intent on yours, like he’s trying to pick apart every word to understand it better. When he laughs, it’s with his whole face, even body, not the careful, composed look of an idol but a natural, carefree laugh that makes you feel like maybe he’s as relieved as you are to be here, to have someone he doesn’t have to impress. 

At some point, you both lapse into a comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts but somehow still connected. The tension from earlier has faded away, replaced by a soothing aura you know you don’t want to miss for a day in your life.

Eventually, Jungkook glances over at you, his eyes sucking you in without much resistance. “I kept thinking this would feel forced, you know? Like we’d be sitting here, struggling to find anything in common.” He leans back, drapes his arm around the back of where you’re sitting, glancing up at the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “But… it doesn’t feel that way. You feel… I don’t know, right?”

The slight flutter in your chest has now swelled into a full-blown hurricane, and you’re not sure if it’s that ninety-nine percent compatibility causing it. But you don’t let yourself think too much—not when you’ve both been inching closer with each word, not when you take a chance and lean in, resting your head against his side. Especially not when his arm settles directly over your shoulder, pulling you a little closer, his other hand finding yours, fingers intertwining just to see how it feels.

“Yeah, it feels right. I really like this.”

As you absently play with his fingers, breathing in his scent for the first time and deciding it’s like heaven, you let yourself trust science. Because this feels like exactly where you’re meant to be.

While the first meeting with Jungkook went better than you’d ever hoped, you’re painfully aware of your overthinking nature. Overthinking in a way that makes it painfully clear there are countless women out there who, on the surface, would seem a better visual match for him than you.

Overthinking to the point where you wonder why Jungkook would even need matchmaking when he could so easily choose a partner on his own. It’s also why staying focused at work isn’t exactly easy today, knowing that soon his label will be sending a car to pick you up for your next meeting with him.

You understand the precautions they’ve taken and completely agree it’s better to meet in a private, safe space rather than making headlines this early on. That’s why, as the tinted car arrives, you feel a bit more at ease than you have all day.

Soon enough, you’re driving down the path to the label’s underground garage, and while you fix your makeup real quick, the car comes to a stop. The driver nods and guides you towards the lift, where the lights are dim and everything has this quiet, professional atmosphere you’ve only seen on screen.

You try to take it all in, letting your thoughts settle just a bit more as you follow through to the hallways upstairs, past doors labelled with room numbers and studios, and then finally, you’re outside the door to Jungkook’s studio, right where you’re supposed to meet.

Your heart beats a little faster as you hear Jungkook’s familiar voice call out, “Come in,” and when you open the door, you find him leaning casually against the chair before his equipment with an easy smile that somehow manages to be both happy and slightly flirty. 

Again, Jungkook’s dressed just like uniquely him, with a few silver rings glinting on his fingers. And while you didn’t think he’d even get up to greet you, he steps forward and embraces you in hug so tight, it leaves you drowning in him. 

“Hey,” he greets with that disarming grin, eyes boring into you, taking in your formal work attire, as he gestures to the coffee set up besides his laptop. “Hope you don’t mind the casual vibe.”

You laugh a little, settling onto the free chair beside him, feeling a bit strange but somehow not. “I think it’s perfect. And to be honest, I don’t think I’d cope well with the whole five-star dining treatment and whatnot.”

He laughs, nodding in agreement, taking your purse from your hands and draping it casually over the back of his chair. The fact that he’s still so attentive, even though he’s clearly in his element here but completely relaxed, is rather fascinating and pulls you in even more.

Like the day before, talking with him comes easy, and while there’s nothing groundbreaking in your conversations, every word feels meaningful in the bigger picture.

Eventually, you feel yourself relaxing like you were at home by your own, getting comfortable enough to let out the thoughts that have been swimming in your head since last night. “I’ve thought a lot about how all of this could play out,” you admit, taking a sip of your coffee, trying to find the right words, though knowing there won’t be any wrong words when talking with Jungkook. “And honestly, I’m not really interested in taking things public if they did work out. I know that’s probably strange to say, but I’m not cut out for the spotlight.”

He tilts his head, watching you thoughtfully. “No, it’s not strange at all. I get it.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you go on, “I just want something real. A partner who’s loyal, someone who’s there because we get each other, not because we’re some public ‘it’ couple, parading around every chance we get. Does that sound crazy?”

He shakes his head, while he swings from one side to the other.  “Not at all. That actually sounds perfect to me.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that makes you feel, for the first time, like there’s some truth to your report. “The whole ‘idol’ thing is just a job. It’s not who I am, not at the core. And having someone who sees it that way, is what I want too.”

It elates you to know that you could have something like this, with him,  someone you could genuinely share your life with.

Then, in a thoughtful voice, he asks, “What do you want for the future? I mean, outside all of this.” 

You take a breath, feeling a little nervous but wanting to be honest. It’s not like it’s news to him, seeing that this information’s written in the report he was handed. “I want something traditional. A home, a family, maybe staying home with kids, having that steady, grounded life. It sounds simple, I know, but it’s what I’ve always pictured.” You look up at him, expecting maybe a hint of judgement, but instead, you find him nodding, his eyes lighting up like a candle in the night.

“I don’t think that sounds simple at all, but meaningful.”

A shy smile forms on your lips as you add, “Sometimes I feel like people don’t see that side of things anymore, you know? Like everyone’s so focused on careers and success and everything else… and I get that, I do, but I’ve always just wanted something steady. Something I can hold on to.”

His hand finds yours, his fingers like second nature intertwine with yours, and the gesture is so simple yet so heartwarming that you feel like squealing out of happiness. “That’s exactly what I want too.” It’s nothing new to you too, but him saying that, seeing the honesty in his eyes, is better than any data shown to you. “I want that sense of home.”

You feel yourself falling a little harder, a little faster, and maybe that scares you a bit. You’ve seen the kind of attention he gets, the kind of girls that throw themselves at him, and it’s hard not to let those doubts creep in. Especially now. “I know this probably sounds insecure,” you start awkwardly, glancing away, “I think, I don’t know, maybe I’m not the kind of person someone like you would go for. I mean, you could have anyone, and not just because you’re an idol.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. And while his mouth opens to say something, the pull against your hand surprises you as much as him settling you in his lab. “Hey, don’t think like that. I’m here because I want to be. And trust me, I’m not looking for ‘anyone’. I’m looking for someone who gets me. And that someone is you, no?”

The look in his eyes is so genuine, so unguarded, that it’s hard to keep your heart from doing all sorts of stunts. He’s not the polished idol right now; he’s just Jungkook, being flirty, being compassionate, being so him, sitting in a cosy studio with his tattoos, his piercings, his moles, his beautiful smile, his whole presence more comfortable and inviting than you could have imagined.

And as he sits there, looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, you realise that you definitely don’t have to doubt this. Maybe it’s okay to let yourself believe that he’s here because he wants to be, that he’s falling for you irrevocably just as you’re falling for him. 

“Sooo… that means?” You know you need to be brave now, because if this isn’t a dream, you’d never forgive yourself for not taking the leap.

“That means, if you want to, I’d love to have you as my girlfriend.”

“Isn’t it a bit rushed?” You don’t actually think so, but you still need to be sure.

“I’m all in if you are. I don’t want to waste any more time, and even though it’s just a report, I can feel there’s real truth behind it.”

Fast forward seven months, and you find yourself pressed against the shower wall like you do every night. But this time, it’s different—just hours ago, you made your first public appearance on a music show with Jungkook, just because you both felt ready, where he was not only nominated for Best Singer of the Year but won as well.

“Koo, right there, right there.”

It still amazes you how his cock seems to find your g-spot as soon as he enters you, though you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Yeah? Right there, hm? Or is it…” he trails off, shifting his hips ever so slightly, making you realise he’s actually hit the centre point of your g-spot now, his hard, unrelenting thrusts pushing you over the edge without warning.

“Oh my goooddd,” your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open against the cool shower wall, as your cunt keeps gripping him even though it’s already creaming around his cock.

“Good girl, keep going, love. Show me how many you can take tonight.”

There’s nothing you can do, not that you’d want to do anything other than let him rearrange your insides. Especially not when his tattooed hand finds its way from the back of your hair to your jaw, tilting your head to the side, giving you the perfect view of his upper body—rivulets of water cascading down his chiselled form, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed. 

He’s the epitome of perfection. Not just a ninety-nine percent but a hundred. 

His eyes, though hooded, bore into your soul as his hips pick up the pace. It’s this connection you share with him make being with him feel so special.

“Koo…”

“I know, love, just a bit more. Can you be a good girl?”

“Yes,” you moan, because hell, you can. “Yes, for you…ah, winning the trophy.”

Even though you shouldn’t feel his cock twitch with the pace he’s set, you do, realising instantly what he needs tonight.

“Best singer, Koo…fuck…best boyfriend, only fucking me when, hmm, the whole world wants a piece of you.”

“Only you. Always you, ___, love.” You think you catch him licking a drop of saliva from his lips as he stares down at where your bodies connect, sending another wave of arousal from your stretched-out hole.

“You’re so big.”

“Just for you, fuck, squeeze a bit more.”

It’s not that you did it on purpose, but when his hand shoots down to your clit, circling it just right, your body responds as though it’s never felt this good, soaking him even more and gripping him tight as a vice.

“Like that, love, like that.” Jungkook grunts and pants, holding you harder, tighter as his cock seems to swell even more, pumping frantically in sync with your impending second orgasm.

When Jungkook can’t hold back any longer, it’s all you need to let go too, the rush flowing through your veins just as fiercely as the love you feel for this man.

After some time, Jungkook pulls out, helping you straighten up and lean against his chest under the stream. His veiny hands trail down your body, washing away his release dripping out of you, as he plants kisses along the side of your face.

When he’s had enough, he, like always, turns you, brushing the wet strands of hair from your face. And as you do the same to him, captivated by how content and in love he looks, you can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world when, for the first time, Jungkook declares his feelings.

“I love you, till the day I die, ___.”

“I love you too, and beyond.”

Because this, because having Jungkook calling you his, is beyond probability.

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀 If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

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[adrienneleclerc]

hi! i loved Drive Thru Test and i was wondering if you'd actually write charles calling y/n his girlfriend and then her not wearing the ring. i think that would just be really funny and he'd be so cute whining. im not trying to rush you and I'd be happy to wait for the fic!

Hi! Yes, it would be very funny because i don’t think Charles realizes that he proposed to a Drama Queen. I don’t know if it turned out like you wanted it to but I really hope you like it!

Fiancé Girlfriend

Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: After a month of being engaged, Charles isn’t used to calling Y/N his fiancé, and accidentally calls her his girlfriend AGAIN. Y/N being true to her words, decides to stop wearing her ring.

Warning: the usual spelling and grammatical errors, VERY bad photoshop.

A/N: I am on my period and it SUCKS, i haven’t been able to get much sleep sadly and i really want chocolate and there’s no chocolate in my house 😩 also, if I were to ever give Charles and Y/N a dog in my fanfics, it will not be Leo since he is a Saint Mleux as well, not just a Leclerc

(His face when he realized he messed up)

Y/N was in the paddock at the Monaco Grand Prix, she had to be there for Charles’s home race. She was happy she did, Charles got P1, Max P2, and Lando P3. Charles kissed her when he got out of the car, she saw his podium ceremony, literally the best GP she’s been to, nothing could mess up her mood. She was in the hospitality snacking on whatever they were offering her while watching the post race interview on the TV and something happened.

“So Charles, we saw you kissing Y/N after your big Home Race win, how long have you guys been together?” The interviewer asked.

“Yes, my girlfriend and I have been together for 5 years.” Charles said and his eyes widened. Max and Lando were also looking at him like ‘ooh, she’s gonna kill you’ “Wait, no, that’s not what I meant..” Charles started but the interviewer ignored him and started asking Max and Lando questions.

Y/N was in shock, how dare Charles call we his girlfriend on live television. So Y/N did what any normal person would do, she took off her ring and placed it securely in the inside pocket of her purse.

Charles in the other hand was panicking after the interview.

“Okay, try not to panic.” Lando said.

“That ship has sailed, Lando. I’m panicking, I’m fucking panicking!” Charles was paving around the room.

“There’s probably a good chance she didn’t see the post race interview.” Lando said.

“And if she did? I already called her my girlfriend once, you know what she said she would do if I do it again? Take off her ring.” Charles said.

“Maybe she was bluffing, she wouldn’t actually go through with that, she loves you too much. I have never seen a couple love each other so much.” Max said and Charles smiled.

“You’re right, Max, she loves me, she’d never take off the ring.” Charles said. He left the room to go to the hospitality and saw Y/N eating fries. “Mon ange! Did you see the interview?”

“Muñeco! Yes I did.” Y/N said.

“I am so sorry, I really am.” Charles takes Y/N’s hand in his and noticed something was missing. “Mon ange, where’s your ring?”

“What ring, muñeco?” Y/N asked, feigning innocence.

“Your ring, your engagement ring, where is it?” Charles asked.

“Charles, I don’t know what you are talking about, why would I have a ring? It’s not like I’m your fiancé or anything, I’m just your girlfriend.” Y/N said and Charles pouted.

“I’m sorry! I swear I am so very sorry, I didn’t mean it.” Charles begged for forgiveness.

“Let’s go home, muñeco, can we order in?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah sure, anything you want, mon coeur.” Charles said. They were walked to the car and as soon as they got in, Charles expected Y/N to put her ring back on since they are not ‘in public’ anymore but she didn’t, the ring was still off. “So mon ange, have you been thinking about when would you want the wedding?”

“Wedding? What wedding? We’re not even engaged, Charles.” Y/N said. You know the saying ‘if they go low, I go lower’? Y/N is going as low as the depths of hell for a slip of the tongue.

“Mon ange, is not funny anymore.” Charles whined.

“Did you order food?” Y/N asked.

“Yes I did, we’re picking it up.” Charles said.

“Cool.” Y/N said.

The drive to the restaurant and back home was silent.

“Okay, we’re back home now.” Charles said as they entered the apartment.

“Yes muñeco, Im aware.” Y/N said but she still didn’t put her ring back on.

“Mon ange please wear your ring.” Charles begged, wrapping his arms around her waist, her back to his chest. “Please, I promise to announce our engagement on Instagram.” Charles kisses her neck. “Please just wear the ring, I love you so much and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, you are the best fiancé a man could ever have.” Charles whispered in her ear as he places little neck kisses.

Y/N turned around and saw Charles pouring with teary eyes and she felt her heart melt.

“Aw muñeco, okay, I’ll wear my ring. But promise the whole world will know we are engaged. I love that you want your friends and family to know first, but it hurts me when you still call me your girlfriend.” Y/N said and Charles kisses her forehead.

“I know, mon ange. We’re going to let the whole world know that you’re my fiancé.” Charles kissed her passionately.

Liked by pierregasly and 830,659 others

charles_leclerc after years of dating, I proposed to the love of my life on our 5th anniversary. I love her so much, I am thankful for having her in my life. We have been engaged for a month and I am so happy that I get to call her my fiancé, the future Mrs. Leclerc, I love you 😘.

View all 9,235 comments

landonorris happy for you mate, so glad she didn’t kill you

charles_leclerc you and be both 😳

maxverstappen1 happy for you mate!

carlossainz55 congratulations, cabrón! I expect invite to the wedding

yourusername aww, muñeco, I love you too, I can’t wait to be Mrs. Leclerc 🥹

francisca.cgomes let me be a bridesmaid!

yourusername you’re maid of honor!

user45 no wonder Charles looked nervous after his pst race interview

yourusername posted a story

charles_leclerc replied

Can’t wait to be your husband 😘

The End

Hope y’all liked it! It was a little short but fun to write!

[demonic0angel]

OWO, you take prompts? How about this?

Danny was born a premature and with a heart defect. The Fenton's try to make a clone so they can get his heart transplanted without fear of organ rejection. But they end up making a full on baby and don't have it in them to kill another version of their son just to save their original boy. Danny ends up pulling through and the clone gets filed as a twin that no one noticed was still in when Maddie was in the hospital. So Maddie "had him at home" and went back so he could be medically examined. The new parents feel ashamed of what they initially were going to do and give the child to a cousin who couldn't conceive.

Tim Drake doesn't know he's adopted until a DNA test reveals that the 'Meta' running around Gotham is his 'twin brother'. And the babies he has, that he does babysitting gigs with, are his twin's 'children'.

(I don’t exactly take prompts, but I don’t mind if you send them. Also, I’m going to assume that the twin’s “children” are Dan and Dani, since that seems to be what people prefer.)

“… are you serious?” Tim asked through the phone.

“Yep,” Dick said, sounding like a mixture of amusement and concern, “How do you feel about it?”

Tim thought about it and then responded, “I guess it makes sense why my parents neglected me so much, since I’m adopted.”

“Awww, baby bird…”

“I’m fine, Dick,” Tim said. He picked Dante and set him on a baby chair. Said child stared at him with electric blue eyes, scowling with his pudgy cheeks as if he wanted to tear Tim apart with his nonexistent teeth. Tim rubbed his chubby cheek with a finger before moving away, still holding the phone to his ear as he picked up the other baby.

Dick continued, “Yeah… also, Bruce says that he’s sorry that he checked your blood without telling you.”

Tim snorted, “No, he didn’t.” Bruce was never sorry for that kind of stuff.

Dick sighed. “Yeah, I lied. Sorry. But he did look guilty! He didn’t want to tell you at first, but Jason convinced him so I’m the one telling you right now.”

Tim hummed, picking up little Ella, who was stubbornly holding onto a small cardboard box. Tim let her hold it and placed her onto the baby chair next to her brother, who immediately reached out for her. It was kinda funny seeing how clingy he was compared to his sister.

“We have more information too. We tracked down the new meta and we’ve been looking into his routes. We suspect that he’s living around here, in Bristol,” Dick said. “We think he’s living in an apartment, at XXX on XXXX street, possibly with a roommate named Jazz.”

Tim paused, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was in the same building, babysitting a bunch of kids on the same street, who also lived with another woman named Jazz. “Uhh. What else?”

“We think he lives on the third floor and possibly also works at a pizza delivery place? Or maybe a fast food restaurant? He’s been flying back and forth between two places besides the apartment.”

Tim began to sweat. “Uh… anything else?”

“There’s a high chance that his name is Danny Nightingale, and Jasmine Nightingale is in on the fact that he’s a meta.”

Fuck.

Tim looked at his niece and nephew with a new light, eyes wide. Ella beamed at him, giggling while Dante just glared.

Welp. At least Bruce would be happy to be a grandfather now. Even if it was to Tim’s secret meta twin brother.

[charliemwrites]

Sniff, sniff…. Woof.

Content: Voyeurism

“Johnny? Johnny, baby, come here!”

Your big wolf boy comes bounding in from the living room as you shut the front door, immediately rearing up to sniff at your neck and face and hands. Satisfied, he licks your cheek and drops down again.

“Alright, listen up, handsome.” You grab his cheeks, scritching along his jaw and grinning as his big blue eyes go dopey. “My sister and her husband are going to stay the night. You are going to be a polite boy because you love me and don’t want to give my sister anything to talk shit about. Yes?”

A sneeze that he (for once) aims away from you. You laugh, drop a kiss between his eyes.

“Good talk.”

As usual, he follows you through the house as you shed clothes and shoes and bags. You ramble about the grocery store and your day, mostly just to get it out so your headspace can be clear for the evening. Helps to have a little (relatively) listener following at your heels.

He camps out in the bathroom while you shower, licking the glass door until you scold him - per usual. And again when he tries to lick the clean water off your leg. Only starts getting restless and grumpy when he sees you change into “outside” clothes rather than pjs.

You groan as he tries to herd you away from your own closet. Must be mixed with a shepherding dog because he’s a damn pushy jerk.

“Enough, bud,” you sigh. “Look, I don’t wanna go much either. But it’ll be worse if I don’t.”

He mouths off at you, a new thing he’s started up that reminds you of a husky. Maybe you should get one of those doggy DNA tests.

“I know I know,” you coo, shimmying into a pair of pants that your sister won’t be able to tease makes your ass look flat. “I’d rather snuggle up and watch 90s vampire movies too. But I already said I’d go and this means I’ll be able to skip seeing her on her birthday.”

More grumbles, but at least he climbs up on the bed to pout. You finish dressing and head for the vanity - no way you can go out with your sister without makeup.

As you pass, you roll him over to scratch his belly - politely ignoring his reaction. God, you really need to get him in for a neutering. If you catch him humping one more pillow—

When it’s time to go, you drop down to give him one last hug.

“Be good, baby. I’ll be home soon with some new friends. I love you.”

—

After dinner, your sister’s husband suggests a bar. And, of course, it’s a sports bar. Man can’t go more than an hour or two without.

You and your sister chat while his eyes stayed glued to the screens. Well, she chats. You mostly just provide the audience she constantly craves, the validation she always needs.

At some point your excuse yourself to order another drink, weaving between the patrons and sighing at a chance to let your face rest for a moment. While you’re waiting, someone brushes up close behind you, startles you.

“Och, sorry, hen. Madhouse in here.”

You blink, tilt your head back to see a gorgeous pair of blue eyes shining down at you. Takes your breath away.

“Oh! Um, no problem, I get it.”

You try to scoot as much as you can - but it really is packed, especially at the bar - and the man takes the opportunity to occupy any free space you have.

Not that you’re complaining. He’s got the type of face they put on magazines with hooks like “sexiest man alive.” A killer grin as he winks down at you, arm bracing on the bar.

“Buy ya a drink for bein’ so rude?”

You’ve barely gotten the start of, “oh it’s alright,” out before he’s signaling the bartender. His stature and presence gets him instant service though, so you let it go, fidgeting restlessly.

Even his voice sounds like a sin worth committing. He’s too attractive. Too handsome to not know it; and definitely too handsome to be chatting you up and ordering you a drink.

“You here with anyone?” he asks with an edge that makes your spine prickle. Yet you almost feel like you imagine it. His tone is normal, his expression hasn’t changed and yet. Something subsonic in the timbre of his voice, maybe.

“My sister and her husband,” you reply.

“No husband of your own?”

You try to laugh, it comes out strained and awkward. “Ah, the only man in my life has four legs.”

Instead of looking annoyed by the brush off, his eyes spark.

“Dog?”

“Yup!” And okay, alarms in your head aside, you’re always happy to talk about Johnny. He’s a safe topic. You fish your phone out of your back pocket and show him your lock screen.

The man takes a quick look at the screen, an odd, private smile flicking across his face. There and then gone, before those intense eyes are locked on you again.

“He friendly?”

You laugh a bit, perk up as the bartender returns with your drink. “Not with men. Thanks for buying!”

as you turn to go, he grabs your hip. Not hard, or even too low. But you gasp quietly, the heat of his palm searing through your clothes.

“Name’s soap, by the way.”

Infinitely more nervous now, you stutter out your own and then retreat to your sister and her husband.

Spend the rest of the night pretending not to watch Soap. He doesn’t return the courtesy, eyes trained on you, lurking around the bar. So visible it seems to only you. Something about the way the light catches his eyes reminds you of when Johnny senses a threat. When he gets low and growly, hair standing on end, eyes focused.

Soap looks like he’s hunting you.

Thankfully, your sister complains about the noise after an hour or so and the three of you leave. You’re relieved to be going home.

As you step inside, you call for Johnny again.

“Wait, who the hell is Johnny?” your sister’s husband asks, an odd look on his face. “You’re living with someone?”

You snort a bit. Does he seriously not remember you talking about your dog?

“Yeah,” you joke, “he’s the love of my life, my one and only—”

You hear the clack of the doggy door and call out again. Johnny trots in panting.

“Did you just come in from a run?” you chuckle, putting a hand out in greeting.

He comes right up to you, presses his nose to the spot where “Soap” grabbed you and snuffles.

“I know, I smell wrong,” you soothe.

He grumbles and licks at your shirt, but you gently nudge him away, turning as your sister scoffs.

“You still do that thing where you talk to them like people?” She asks. “Don’t you think that’s… childish?”

“Johnny’s basically a person in a human body,” you reply, laughing. “You’ll see.”

“Dogs shouldn’t have human names,” her husband pipes up, reaching for Johnny.

“No, wait—”

Johnny snaps just shy of his fingers and puts himself bodily between you two.

“Easy!” you yelp, hooking your hand in his collar. “Sorry, I meant to warn you - Johnny’s shy with men.”

“He almost took my bloody hand off!”

“He’s just protective. Johnny, heel.”

He stops snarling, but plants himself at your feet right there, eyes sharply trained on your brother in law. Your sister snorts.

“How are you supposed to get men back here, then?”

You jump as Johnny barks, a full deep one that your rarely ever hear. Your sister startles too, then scowls.

“I don’t,” you answer, shaking your head. “Anyway, let me just get the sheets for the spare room and we can call it a night.”

Johnny stays close at your heels the entire time, though you swear he throws a nasty glance back at your sister’s husband.

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