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h-c-u · 1 year

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No handlebars

Summary: A brat being a brat by finding a loophole in the rule.

Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!reader

W/C: 4.1k

Rating: +18, age gap, dom/sub, oral sex (male receiving), cumplay, slight humiliation kink, dry-humping, tiny bit of aftercare

A/N: No plot. Pure filthy smut, so obligatory you are responsible for the media you consume. It's literally just a blowjob with some humping, nothing else. You have been warned <3

Masterlist | List of tags

You hated waking up alone, but you accepted it due to how different your sleep schedule was from Toto's, and you loved him, so it was a small sacrifice. While he was often up with the first rays of the sun, you could kill someone if they woke you up before 10 AM. And even that was pushing it if they didn't have a fresh coffee or something sweet as a bribe. So you weren't exactly happy when the loud sound of the doorbell ripped you from the blissful arms of Morpheus and plunged you into a much too cold and too empty bed. Usually, you would just go back to sleep, but today was one of those days when your need to touch and to be held was just too high.

Even though there was no one there to hear it, the loud, annoyed groan left your mouth. You kicked your feet to throw the duvet from your body, exposing yourself to the cold air, because of course his damn Austrian ass just had to open the window. You could almost hear "Lüften is healthy for you, Schatzi" in his voice when you were closing it. Your bare feet on the hardwood floor didn't help your mood. Your face was donning a sour look when you came downstairs in search of the attention you craved, so when you saw an opened laptop and the cell phone in Toto's hand, you weren't exactly pleased.

He was fully dressed, even though it was well before noon on the weekend, which meant that he had already left the house, but now he was back, and it was all that mattered. With making as little sound as possible, so the microphone in his phone wouldn't pick it up, you stepped behind the couch, first making sure he wasn't in any sort of virtual meeting.

You gently grabbed his attention by rubbing your cheek on the top of his head and placing a soft kiss on his temple. He hummed, acknowledging your presence, but his focus was still on the many, many graphs on the screen. But today you were feeling bratty, so instead of leaving him alone, you playfully bit his ear, which resulted in him giving you a warning look. However, in your head, it was a success, because he turned around from the laptop, so not only you did do it again, this time a little bit harder, but you also pulled the neckline of his shirt down and slithered your hands under the blue material in search of more skin-to-skin contact. When you did that, Toto roughly grabbed your wrists and pulled you by them over the backrest of the sofa. With a quiet yelp, you landed on the seat on your back, with your legs draped over the pillows. But despite his abrupt reaction, there was no anger or even annoyance on his face, so you knew you could push back even more.

You stayed still for a moment, letting him think that you were subdued, and his grip on your wrists loosened, which was exactly what you were waiting for. With a devilish smile (which he, fortunately, didn't notice), you quickly parted your wrists, forcing his fingers apart and freeing yourself. His gaze instantly snapped to you, but you were already conducting your sneaky attack. You rolled down the couch, landing on his lap, essentially straddling him. You smushed your face against his chest and wrapped your arms under his shoulders, pinning him to the couch with your body. He could easily overpower you, but instead, he just sighed with resignation, leaned back, and put his free hand in between your shoulder blades, keeping you where you were, while he continued talking over the phone. You didn't even pay attention to his words, focusing on the low timbre of his voice and how it vibrated deep in his chest.

You were absorbing his warmth like a sponge, and you could feel your body relaxing against his, the annoyance and frustration from before melting away and slowly being replaced by something else because the heat you were stealing from him seemed to be pooling in your abdomen. Without looking at Toto's face, you experimentally rolled your hips over his. He quickly moved his hand to the back of your neck, where he gave you a warning squeeze, but your brattiness won, so instead of behaving, you slowly moved your hands down in between your bodies and started gently pulling out his shirt from his trousers. When there was enough space to slither under the material, you did just that and ran your fingernails over his stomach. And that was enough for him.

He grabbed you stronger by your neck and pushed you from his lap to the floor, so you were kneeling in between his legs.

- Keep. Your hands. To yourself. - he growled, covering the microphone in his phone with his hand and you pouted in response. You wanted to touch him, to have his skin rubbing against yours, but instead, he was mean and refused to give you that. Well, maybe if you asked nicely for it, he would be more lenient, but now... Now you couldn't do anything with your hands.

But he didn't say anything about other parts of your body... With an almost theatrical flair, you moved your hands behind your back, where you crossed your wrists, indicating that you were planning on following the rule he just established. You remained still for a good moment, yet again lulling him into a false sense of security, and when you realized he was about to make a longer comment about something he heard on the other side of the line, you finally made your move.

Still kneeling in between his legs, you shifted up and forward, so your face was getting closer to his crotch, but he didn't stop you, even though he definitely could. Instead, he just raised his eyebrow, curious about how you will proceed. With your teeth, you grabbed the thick leather of his belt and with very small moves at first, you started pulling it out of the buckle. It took you a good minute to achieve that, but you did it without breaking a rule, so it was worth it. And if by keeping your hands to yourself, you rubbed even more against the material of his trousers with your cheeks and chin... Well... You were just abiding by his words.

With a smug smile, you finally pulled the leather out of the metal bar, but there was still a long way ahead of you, and you could already feel him growing because of the additional stimulation. Now it was time to pull the prong out of the hole it was nested in. You knew it would be much harder, so you adjusted your position a little and moved even closer, sliding your head in such a way that the freed part of the belt was resting on your cheek, giving you more access. You tried to dislodge the prong with your tongue, but there was too much pressure on it and even though you could do wonderful things with your tongue, it wasn't strong enough to completely unbuckle the belt, so you tried again, this time with your teeth, but there was not enough space for you to properly grab that stubborn spike. You huffed with annoyance and retreated for a moment, trying to come up with the best strategy.

Eventually, you got as close as possible to the buckle and grabbed the leather there with your teeth and pulled; it put more pressure around his waist, but less on the prong, to the point, that when you angled it correctly, you were able to dislodge the spike with your nose. You instantly let go of the belt, grabbed the prong with your teeth, and started pulling, eventually freeing the belt from the buckle. You would lie if you said that you weren't pleased with yourself, but you were far from done.

When you looked up to see his reaction, there was a very tiny smile in the corner of his mouth, which meant that he was enjoying your struggles and desperation, so you dove right back in, this time giving your full attention to the button. You grabbed the material just next to it with your teeth and tried to pull it back on an angle to see if the button would be able to slip out on its own, but unfortunately, it didn't, so you pulled in the other direction, putting your tongue to good use. It took you a few tries, but eventually, you were able to push the button through and get to the zipper, which was the easiest part of the whole challenge.

With your teeth you moved the now redundant material down and to the sides, exposing his pants, but you didn't remove it right away. Instead, you rubbed your cheeks over it, exposing a small wet patch of precum, over which you almost immediately closed your mouth, and started sucking, not caring that you were soaking his underwear. You chased his faint taste for over a minute, feeling him grow and harden under his pants, until the band was no longer flush with his abdomen, which almost instantly made you grin, but you didn't move it just yet. Instead, you traveled with your mouth down his shaft, until you got to the base. With the material already stretched around his length, it was hard to close your mouth around his balls, but after some maneuvering with your tongue, you were able to do so, and you started running your tongue over them, soaking the thin cotton even more.

You chose this moment to look up again... Toto was lazily leaning back on the sofa, resting his head on the pillows. Even from this angle, you were able to tell that his lips were parted, and his breathing was much shallower than it was around fifteen minutes ago, but he still had full control over his reactions. His voice was steady, his thoughts were clear, and he was simply enjoying the ride you were taking him on. So, you slowly moved back up, grabbed the edge of the material with your teeth, and pulled it down, fully exposing his cock.

Only now he reacted. He held the phone to his ear with his shoulder, and with both hands started gathering your hair into a ponytail, which he tied with a hairband that was permanently on his wrist just for this reason. He loved getting you messy, but he also knew that you hated when your hair was sticking to your face, so he was happy to compromise if that meant more blowjobs. With an innocent smile, he ran his thumb around your mouth, gathering the excess saliva you managed to smear, brought his finger to his lips, and licked it clean without breaking eye contact. You truly didn't know how the hell he managed to stay so collected, composed, and able to carry a conversation about the aerodynamics of the front wing, and you just knew it would take a while, so there was no reason for you to hurry.

His pretty dark pink tip was almost begging you to close your lips around it and lick a drop of precum that already managed to gather on the top since you freed him, but instead of focusing on it, you placed a row of wet, sloppy kisses down the whole length until you reached the balls again. This time without any barrier, taking care of them was easy. With his cock pressed against your cheek, you focused on each one individually gently taking them in your mouth and slowly running your flattened tongue over them. You took your time carefully licking them, softly sucking, running your pointed tongue in the especially sensitive places. You even lifted them with your nose at one point and sucked on that soft spot just underneath. But as much as you loved playing with them, they weren't the main attraction, so you gave a few long licks from the base back to the tip, where you gathered the precum with your tongue and swallowed those few drops, enjoying the slightly salty and sweet taste.

With your hands still behind your back, you loosely closed your mouth around the head. Without using much pressure, you ran your tongue over the tip, trying to scoop as much of the white fluid as you could, and only when there was nothing left, you started sucking. Gently at first, but soon it wasn't enough, so you closed your lips tighter and ran your tongue around the whole head in chase of his taste, flicking a few times on that specific sensitive spot. Careful not to accidentally scratch him with your teeth, you started moving a little bit lower, but not much; you wanted to have some fun too, after all. You could easily get him off much quicker, but that was not the point of this whole ordeal. It was about finding fun and pleasure within the rules. Well... Maybe pushing them just a little bit...

You let your saliva run down his shaft, but you quickly followed and smeared it around, so your lips could slide easier up and down when you eventually decided that it was time for that. But for now, you came back up and let him slip out of your mouth for a moment, allowing the tip to catch on your lower lip and roll it down a little. And when you looked further up, the head of his cock slid over your chin. You couldn't help but smile when you saw the way he was looking at you, because there was no more powerful feeling than the knowledge you were being desired by the person your whole heart belonged to.

Without breaking eye contact you gave a few short licks under the tip, tracing the edge of the head with your pointed tongue and then you finally dove down. You let his cock slide down your tongue only closing your lips around it in about half of the length. As much as you wanted to swallow it whole in one go, you knew your skills well enough to know that you still needed some preparation, especially without your hands acting as a buffer as you were getting more comfortable with him deeper. So, for now, you took your sweet time giving him a slow and sloppy blowjob, careful not to put too much pressure, because you didn't want your playtime to end too early.

You knew Toto loved getting you messy, so besides taking him as deep as you currently could, you were also placing rows of wet kisses down his length letting the top part of his shaft smear your own saliva mixed with his precum around your mouth, cheeks, and chin. You knew you must have been a sight like that... With pure desperation and want in your beautiful doe eyes, face glistening from the wetness of your own doing, lips stretched around his girth and around three-quarters of his length buried in your throat. He just couldn't help himself and put his big hand on the back of your head. His touch made you inhale sharply, which with his cock breaching your throat made you choke, so you quickly retreated and gasped for air; you were just hoping that the microphone in his phone wasn't sensitive enough to catch it, because up until now, you managed to keep all the noises to the minimum.

There were strings of drool connecting your lower lip to the tip of his cock, and you followed them, catching everything on your tongue and diving back in. This time you were prepared for his hand guiding you deeper than you would have gone on your own, so you timed your breathing accordingly, but then he pushed your head harder until your nose was smushed against his abdomen, and he kept you there. At first, you didn't mind, but with every passing second your heart started beating faster, because you realized that it was only a matter of time before you start to gag. You did your best to hold your breath for as long as possible. The tears slowly gathered in your eyes while you wordlessly begged him to let you go up for air, but he continued the conversation as if you weren't getting lightheaded with his dick completely sheathed in your throat.

You were losing a battle with your own body, but you still didn't use your safety gesture, having complete trust that he wouldn't put you in any true danger. But eventually, your body lost and gasped for air. Only there was a foreign object blocking your airways, so you immediately started choking and gagging, producing a river of saliva that ran down your chin and soaked in the material of his trousers. After about five seconds of this torture, he pulled on your head roughly and when you looked at him all messed up, your face read, tears streaming from your eyes and covered in your own drool, he just smirked and raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

And just for a second, you hated yourself for how your body was reacting, because now not only your face was wet. You groaned and nodded, answering the unasked question. In response, he pointed his chin towards his foot, glanced at it for a very short moment, and you understood immediately what he meant, so you shimmied closer until you were able to grind on that place where his ankle met his shin, and when you rolled your hips for the first time, you just couldn't stop the breathy moan that left your mouth.

Instead of scolding you, he just guided you toward his cock again to silence you. This time he let you keep control over the tempo because you already got what he wanted from the previous interaction, but he didn't move his hand from your head; its heavy weight was weirdly giving you comfort. This time muscle memory took over and you instinctively relaxed your jaw and throat when slowly taking him deeper, but you were too horny and too greedy to toy with him, so you quickly picked up speed. It took you a good minute to find a good rhythm between moving your head and grinding your hips, but when you did, you started moving even quicker, not even realizing that Toto ended his phone call and threw his head back, fully enjoying what you were doing. Your hands were still behind your back, which he secretly admired and cataloged in his head for future use.

You were so focused on chasing your own release, that you lost your balance for a second, which resulted in you gagging again, but you were so close that you didn't care and allowed your throat to spasm around his cock and buried your face in his pubic hair, now focusing only on grinding your hips in erratic movements. You were so desperate to cum that you didn't care that you couldn't breathe and that you were in pain, so when Toto grabbed you roughly by the hair and pulled you back, you cried out loud, because you wanted... no, needed that to cum. You wanted to protest, to argue that you were a good girl, that you followed instructions just so he could let you finish with your mouth closed around his beautiful cock, but before you managed to say a word, you felt the first load of his cum landing on your cheek. And then another... And another. Until almost your whole face was painted with his sticky, warm release.

You didn't realize that you closed your eyes, so completely lost this near the edge so you yelped in surprise when he angled his foot up, putting more pressure on your clit, and you resumed grinding almost instantly, now focusing only on chasing your own orgasm. You didn't even know when, but you wrapped your arms around his leg as you were helplessly humping it like an animal in heat, without a drop of care about what others would think if they saw you like that. Because all that mattered was what Toto thought, and the adoration in his eyes when you were so broken and vulnerable, with all the inhibition thrown out the window told you everything you needed to know.

He leaned down and started gathering his own cum from your face with his tongue, and when he got enough, his hand traveled from the back of your head to your throat, where he put pressure on your artery, cutting the supply of oxygenated blood to your brain. He didn't have to tell you to open your mouth, because you were breathing heavily so close to orgasm, so he was able to latch onto them and through a sloppy kiss, feed you the first portion of his load, but you barely registered the familiar taste. He didn't even wait for you to swallow before he went back to gather more. And then again. Until there was nothing left on your face, and you were able to look at him without fear of cum dripping into your eyes. Your pupils were blown wide open from the arousal and the lack of oxygen; you were so close... You just needed...

- You can cum... - he said just as he released the grip on your throat, allowing a fresh wave of oxygen to flood and overload your brain. You came almost immediately after he said those words. Your eyes rolled back into your skull when a wave of intense pleasure rushed through your body and pulled you under the surface, but your hips rolled a few more times without your control until you drenched Toto's food and the carpet underneath with your release. His low chuckle reached you in the darkness of the semi-consciousness you were currently wrapped in. Your still twitching body was leaning on his leg, with your arms tightly wrapped around his knee, your torso bent and your head resting on his clothed thigh. You were breathing heavily, and you had to close your eyes again, still processing what just happened.

The first thing you consciously registered was a familiar, slightly salty taste on your tongue and a faint smile crawled onto your lips, while you gently rubbed your cheek over the material of his trousers, grounding yourself back in reality. And when you eventually did, you looked up at the love of your life with a silent request in your eyes. You didn't have to say anything more, because just as you relaxed your arms and reached for him, he was already reaching to pull you up onto his lap, not caring about the mess you made from his clothes, the couch, and the carpet. In the end, it didn't matter, it all could be cleaned or replaced, but you... There was not a chance there was another creature in this world so perfectly made for him.

You rested your head on his chest, right under his chin, while his hands were tracing unrecognizable shapes over your body. Eventually, your breathing calmed down and you could no longer feel your heartbeat in the tiniest parts of your body, so you closed your eyes just for a moment, allowing yourself to enjoy his closeness, his touch, his scent, which was what kept you awake in the first place. So, when that need was satisfied, it wasn't long before your exhausted and pushed to an extreme body drifted right back to sleep, in the environment your mind considered as the safest in the world.

Your consciousness resurfaced just once, when no part of him was touching you, and you groaned in protest, slowly realizing that he carried you back to bed and laid you in it.

- Don't leave me... - you whispered so quietly, that in your still fogged-up mind, you weren't sure if he heard it. But the shifting weight on the mattress behind you told you that he did.

- Never... - he placed a soft kiss right behind your ear, as he got closer, so his now naked torso pressed against your back, and his arms wrapped tightly around you. - I love you. - you heard just before you drifted away again, but it was too late for you to reply.

Normally he wouldn't be caught dead in bed this late in the morning, but it was what you required, and he would always take care of you in any and every way you needed, no matter how twisted or soft.

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :) Love, G.

#my writing #Toto Wolff fanfiction #Toto Wolff smut #Toto Wolff x reader #🖤#🧸#🥪#😛#🔥

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margowritesthings · 2 years

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What’s Mine Is Mine

pairing: lh!Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 1159

warnings: possessive Arthur, spit kink, low honour Arthur, shameless filth, very suggestive, mentions of sex

moodboard

a/n: i simply Cannot Write Drabbles... thank you so much @elifsukirdaghehe for the spit kink request and anon for the low honour Arthur request! I hope this lives up to your expectations! This is very heavily inspired by this bc its one of the hottest things ive ever seen lol

also click the link at the end for a wonderful surprise and say thank you to @cowboydisaster

tagging: @cowboydisaster @cassidylynnj

“I do believe these belong to me…” Arthur quips, a cheeky grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he pulls the pile of chips towards him. A relatively old guy with a fantastically twisted handlebar moustache throws his cards down, cursing as he walks away from the table empty handed. A low chuckle reaches your ears when you squeeze Arthur’s shoulder, proudly standing behind him while his winning streak continues.

“Baby, we’re in the money!” He smugly exclaims, completely ignoring the grumbles of his fellow players. You roll your eyes playfully, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. The action gives your outlaw a pretty fantastic view of your chest, if only for a brief moment, but of course he catches it. The envious eyes of every other man at the table follow you back up to a standing position.

“I’m gonna grab a drink. You want a whiskey?”

“Thanks, darlin’.”

You catch the coin that is expertly flipped through the air, winking a silent thanks to Arthur and swaying your hips just a little more than usual when you strut to the bar. You know all eyes are on you, as does Arthur, and you know how crazy and possessive that drives him, usually culminating in mind-blowing sex that sends you dumb to everything but screaming his name. He loves knowing how much everyone wants you, knowing that he’s the only one who will ever have you.

It’s only a few strides to the bar, the next hand in Arthur’s game already being dealt by the time you lean one hip against the wood.

“What’s a pretty lady like you doin’ with a dog like that, huh?”

The unpleasant feeling settles in your stomach almost instantly as the worst kind of booze breath reaches your senses. Rolling your eyes, your gaze falls to the origin: a man, probably in his 30’s, with a clean shaven face and a suit that didn’t quite fit right. He isn’t completely unfortunate looking, you’d have to give him that, but the invisible layer of slime coating him from head to toe is enough to send women running for miles. That, you’re sure of.

Glancing back to the table, you see Arthur engrossed in the game. Maybe it’s the devil on your shoulder, or the promise of the kind of fucking that can only be fuelled by the fiercest jealousy, but you subconsciously decide what simply has to be done. The buzz of four drink and the electricity in the air only found in a packed saloon of an evening spurs you on, dragging your fluttering eyes back to the stranger and plastering a sickly sweet grin to your plump lips.

“Why, you reckon you could show me a better time, cowboy?” Your drawl is sickening, but it does the job as a flash of false hope ignites the man’s features.

You place your elbow on the cool bar, sliding down to place some of your weight on it. Naturally, your chest never rises and falls so dramatically with each seductive breath, but you can smell a free drink a mile away, and this one is much closer than that.

“Oh, don’t you know it, baby, I-I could show you the time of your life.” He’s nervous, clearly not used to making it this far without having a drink thrown over him.

What’s more, Arthur has noticed, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds with the most delicious frown on his face. You can practically hear the territorial growls being ripped from the depths of his throat, low and gravely and vibrating your very being.

The bartender finally arrives, glancing awkwardly between yourself and the other man, not knowing who was there first and who to serve. Luckily for him, and for your grand plan, your slimy admirer speaks up.

“I’ll have a beer. And whatever the lady likes.” He gestures to you, all bravado and ego as he places two coins onto the countertop.

“Whiskey, please. Neat.”

The bartender nods and turns to get the drinks, leaving you alone to be gawked at.

“Oh, I love a woman who can handle her drink.”

“Really? Do you know something, mister, that is just fascinating.”

Every nerve ending in your body is set aflame as you feel a hand snake around your shoulder, resting just above the hem of your low collar. Arthur’s sarcastic drawl has dropped about three octaves. He’s mad.

“And who might our new friend be, sweetheart?” His theatrics boom around the room, earning a few sideways glances from curious patrons, most certainly hoping for a bit of evening entertainment. One wrong word from your ‘friend’ might just make their dreams come true.

Standing beside Arthur, the once-hopeful devotee is realising just how large the outlaw is, how his strong arms fill out the sleeves of his duster coat and how one of those sleeves is hemmed with a bloodstain you just couldn’t seem to get out.

You’re saved from having to introduce your pawn to your king when the bartender places two drinks between the three of you, one beer, one whiskey.

“Aw, for us? Y’shouldn’t have.” The arm draped over your shoulder wraps tighter, twisting around so that Arthur’s thick fingers cup your jaw and squeeze your cheeks. You’re tucked so close into him that the movement forces your neck to crane up to look right at Arthur. You’re putty in his hands, his dominating stance moulding you to his whim. The action is enough to brand you as completely and utterly his, but it’s Arthur and that just isn’t enough.

He tips his own head back, throwing the whiskey into his mouth in one swift movement. A firmer squeeze on your jaw opens your mouth and you lock eyes with Arthur as the fiery liquid is spat from his mouth into yours. It burns your lips and warms your throat. You feel it all the way from your head to your toes, and you’re not talking about the drink. It takes you a second to catch your breath after you swallow, Arthur’s thumb wiping a little droplet of the spirit off your chin and popping it back into your mouth. You suckle on his thumb, just for a second, letting the rest of the busy saloon melt away. In that moment, it is just the two of you, your plan falling oh so cleverly into place. You’re gazing lovingly, seductively at each other, which Arthur only breaks to turn to the man kind enough to pay for the drink he’d just spat into you.

“Hey, cheers, pal. Real nice of ya’ to treat the lady.” He pats the man just a little too hard on the shoulder, sending him stumbling a few steps. You don’t notice, too entranced by your possessive cowboy to notice anything else.

“Let’s get you home, missy. Seems I gotta teach you some manners about talkin’ to strangers, huh?”

God, yes.

#arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan red dead #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x y/n #rdr2 #rdr #red dead redepmtion 2 #arthur morgan fanfic #Arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #low honour arthur #low honour arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #what's mine is mine #MargoFiore

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hannahssimblr · 9 months

Text

Jen sits on the deck outside the beach house when I come down the wooden steps, and she eyes my shopping bag.

“Got everything?”

“Yep.”

“Enough snacks for me too?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, are you ready to go? Shane and Joe are waiting-”

“Yeah just a sec,” I nip up the stairs and push through the front door, and my dad is where he’s been all day, looking at his laptop at the kitchen table. He barely glances up.

“Where have you been?”

“Around.”

His keyboard is the only sound aside from Ivy, murmuring to her dolls in the living room below. I throw the plastic bag onto the counter and start stacking a few things into the fridge. “I noticed Ivy was out of yoghurts,” I say, “I picked up more for her to have tomorrow.”

Dad says nothing.

“And I borrowed your credit card, I assume that’s okay.”

“Hm?”

“Your credit card. I took it.”

“Mm. Hope you didn’t drop it somewhere and lose it.”

“No,” I slide it out of my wallet and place it on the table, “There it is, safe and sound.”

I go back to the fridge and hide a chocolate bar behind a jar of mayonnaise for Ivy, then grab one of dad’s beers and slip it into my old schoolbag. He doesn’t seem to notice so I swipe another.

He leans back in the chair and stretches his arms with a grunt. “Did you get food for dinner tonight?”

“I'm not making dinner, I've plans.”

“Plans?”

“Yeah I’m going camping in the forest. I told you this morning,” I point lamely at the sleeping bag I left by the door.

“I’m not sure that you did.”

“I did, definitely.”

“Well I think I’m gonna need you to stick around, things are just too busy around here today.”

“Where’s mom?”

“Uh, the hotel I think. She said she was getting some sorta massage.”

“Maybe after her massage she can cook, because as I’ve said, I’m busy tonight.”

“She might be a while.”

I stiffen. “Well then get a takeaway.”

He peers at me over the rim of his reading glasses and sighs this long, world weary sigh that makes me feel like rolling my eyes. “It’d just be convenient if you stayed.”

“Yeah I know, but I’m not available.”

“I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you help out a little at home, I know that you think you can just do whatever you want because you’re on vacation but it’s just not gonna like that for-”

“Yeah I get it, but I’m not going to be here tonight. One night. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I thought you might have grown out of this teenage stuff by now, Jude, this whole moodswing thing, you know, when I was sixteen I was already-”

“Working in an ice cream parlour and bringing in your own money, I know,” I grit my teeth, “and I’m sorry about not doing the same, but-”

“- and you know, you really were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, if my parents knew that I’d raised-”

I snatch up my bags and leave the door swinging behind me.

As Jen watches me as I storm down the stairs the corner of her mouth twitches up. “You’re a bit red around the ears,” she points out, “Did you get into it again with Christopher?”

I hop down from the deck and haul my bike from the sand. “Let’s just go.”

After meeting Shane and Joe in the village we swing by the Boat Club to pick up Clóda.

“Oh you’re cycling,” She says as she shakes her hair free of her high bun, “I didn’t bring a bike.”

I glance at her empty hands. “Or a sleeping bag? Or food?”

A shrug, “No.”

“You can share with me then,” I say, and I’d usually have done a much better job at being smooth, but instead my words come out sharp and impatient, and then I feel guilty when I catch sight of her wavering smile as she clambers onto the handlebars of my bicycle.

“Hope you had a nice day so far,” She says, and as I pull away from the curb with a wobble I try to relax my body with some deep breaths. “Yeah it was fine. Tell me about yours.”

And she does, and we five cycle until the village tapers away to become scarce houses dotted along the coast, on and on until the mouth of the woods. I listen to her talk, not really what she is saying so much as the sound of her voice, and I realise that if I concentrate on things like this, like the steady lock of her hands over mine and the silk of her hair blowing back against my face then I don’t have a lot of space left to think about how awful and selfish I am today.

By the time we reach the forest and tether our bikes to a fence I’m feeling almost back to myself again, so much so that I can even join in the conversation Shane, Jen and Joe are having about Dexter, and as always when it comes to TV, Jen and I start arguing about something or other, some part of the story that I picked up wrong, some character that I love but I am supposed to hate, and this is my favourite way to be with her, giving off, winding each other up so much and acting pissed off until someone thinks we’re being serious and tries to mediate. It’s the best way I can think of to whittle the time away on this trek from the onset of the woods to the dark depths of it, where the stony path turns to a dirt trail and briars snag at our ankles, where we duck under and scramble over low hanging branches and pick twigs out of one another's hair.

Clóda, who has been silent for a long time, slips her hand into mine and pulls me back from the group. “There was a sign that said ‘No Camping’ back there,” she murmurs.

“Yeah I know, we got caught before, a couple of years ago, but that’s why we’re going so deep in. Don’t worry, the guards never come this far.”

“Right,” she glances overhead where the dense firs have blocked out most of the evening sun and cast enormous shadows down upon us. I can listen now that the others have gone on ahead and their voices are dulled from the sounds of the trees brushing together in the wind, the squelch of the damp earth underfoot and the roar of the waves over the sand dunes somewhere to the east. A hare springs from a nearby cluster of ferns and flees from us, and Clóda screams and clings to my sleeve.

“You okay? A bit scared?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Of the woods?”

“I don’t know. I suppose we’re just a bit far from the path.”

“It’s okay, nothing is going to happen, there won’t be anybody but us. And the ghosts.”

She bats my arm, “God, stop.”

“You believe in them?”

“No.”

“I do.”

She shivers and says softly, “Okay well I don’t want to think about that.”

I peck the crown of her head, “Don’t worry, Just joking. I’ll mind you.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

#Lucky boy #say hi to Jude's dad #making his debut appearance #this whole camping bit was inspired by a time that my friends and I did the same when we were teenagers lmao #there was a tent full of other teenagers across the way #they offered us heroin and we got so scared haha

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spahhzy · 8 months

Text

A Bunny, Bike, Widow, and a Deadman. 1(?)

It's the John Wick parody nobody asked for, but me!

A video camera fired up revealing a nice large living room and moved forward around a corner as some banging could be heard, followed by an 'ouch'. The camera suddenly caught sight of one tall blonde haired man, with some defined muscle dressed in black shorts and a plain white tee as he had a tool bag around his waist. He was currently putting together a small table.

Jaune: Just a few more hammers annnnnd done!

Jaune set the hammer down and admired his handy work, unaware that a video recorder was catching every moment until he, of course, turned around.

Jaune: Eh!? Trivia, are you recording me!?

A woman with pink and brown hair just silently giggled as she kept video taping a blushing Jaune.

Jaune: Trivia, how much did you see? The blisters on my fingers!? I'm a handyman, I swea-Oof!

Jaune had tripped over the table. A small ow escaped him as Trivia looked like she could burst into tears from laughing.

Jaune whined but had a silly smile on his face before he just wrapped his arms around her pulling her into bed amidst the fall he grabbed her scroll and smirked as he flipped the camera around this time to take a photo of both of them. Trivia, her head nestled into the crook of Jaune's neck with Jaune head rested onto of hers.

Happiness radiating from both their eyes. A click was heard from her scroll as the little photo was taken.

Warmth filled Trivia as she looked up into her husband eyes, feeling very tired but happy. Nonetheless.

Trivia blinked from inside her helmet as she looked up to see a 'Gas station next left'. She checked her left side rear mirror before taking the next exit off the freeway, as her hair fluttered wildly behind her as the motorcycle exhaust echoed off the city walls.

She pulled into the gas station, parking at a pump before killing the engine and finally taking off her helmet.

Her pink and brown eyes adjusting back to the light before she sat her helmet back on the handlebars.

She admired the motorcycle, a nice bike that her husband had gotten for her and on occasions Jaune would bring out his bike and they would ride together down the riding twists and turns that Vales backroads and outskirts had to offer but often then not, she would ride shot gun if she was nit feeling up to driving, still she admired and loved her bike dearly non-the less because it was from the man who was her world and also thanks to clear recommendation from one Yang Xiao Long. She has a taste for motorcycles she did.

She thought it hilarious, that she ,a city girl, wouldn't like anything like this... but boy, did Jaune prove her wrong. He was right when he said it was almost the 'free' someone can be.

She casted her eyes onto the floor as she suddenly felt a crushing sadness begin to eat at her.

Numbly she took off her riding gloves and thumbed the wedding ring tenderly.

While she was feeling sad, something was inside her backpack, that she had carried with her on the ride, wiggling around before a set of tall ears popped out, and suddenly, a rabbit head sprang out of the pink backpack.

It shook its head softly, floopy ears hitting the back of Trivia's head, causing her to turn around and look at her bunny.

The sadness vanished a little bit as she looked at the last gift Jaune had given her before he passed.

'I know the pain will be great...and that i will leave a hole but please take this last gift from me to help comfrot you. Her name is Juniper, please take care of her as I know she will take care of you'

Reaching behind her Trivia gently petted the bunny's head to which the small white rabbit leaned into the hand and after a few seconds she, with Juniper In the bag, walked inside to put some gas.

Coming out of the gas station with a small bag containing water, lettuce, and small baby carrots. She took off her backpack and placed it on the back seat, opening it up a smidge to give Juniper a little more room. The little rabbit looked up at her as Trivia just smiled softly as she reached in and grabbed some lettuce into her hand before guiding it over to the hungry rabbit who had stars in her eyes and chomped away at the green.

At the same time, Trivia had begun to pump gas into her bike, and both enjoyed a brief moment of silence.

Or they would have if a large HUV, blasting loud music, didn't pull into the gas station. It pulled into a pump directly across from Trivia as four young men jumped out.

Sky: I'm gonna go pay for the gas. Does anyone want anything before we hit up the strip club?

Russel: Nothin from me.

Dove: Same.

Cardin: Will one of you get out and go pump gas!

Dove gout out laughing, while Cardin got out, too, finding it a good time to smoke before the night began. Lighting up his cigarette, he took notice of a woman with pink and brown hair feeding her rabbit while sitting on a very nice-looking bike.

Clicking his hair back, he had a very staunce collection of bikes sitting home in one of his MANY garages, but that one in particular? He must have it.

Cardin: Nice Bike!

The woman stopped feeding the rabbit and looked at him before nodding and turning her attention back to the gas pump.

Cardin: Marauder! 70?

The girl just turned her head to him and shook it before fishing out a scroll and typing the words 69 before showing it too him.

Cardin: Oh, even rarer... I asked one of my 'friends' she had one just like this but would never sell it to me...

The woman shrugged as she finished pumping the gas as the bunny sat on the seat, still nibbling away.

Cardin: Alright, how much?

The woman stopped in her tracks and looked at Cardin with an eyebrow raised.

Cardin: Come on, how much for the bike! I'll pay you any amount and a little extra~

A look of disgust flashed briefly across the young woman's face, but she shook her head and flashed her scroll to his face quickly that said.

'Not For Sale'.

She got Juniper back inside her backpack and was about to grab her helmet before a hand stopped her.

Cardin: Aww, look at the cute rabbit.

He roughly pets the bunny's head, who just hides inside the backpack, then he turns his gaze back to the woman speaking in Atleasian foreign tongue.

Cardin: 'Everybody's gotta price, bitch'

Trivia could only just look at the man unimpressed but not before typing into her scroll and showing it to him.

'Not this bitch'

Cardin's eyes widened as he stepped back, allowing Trivia to finally grab her helmet. Cardin looked like he was about to escalate things before Russell stepped in with a look that said 'back off'. He looked back at Trivia and nodded.

Russel: You have a good day ma'am.

Trivia nodded slightly before firing up her bike, putting on her helmet and setting off back home.

Cardin just watched as bad thoughts enveloped his head.

Not for sale huh?

Then he'll just have to acquire it the old-fashioned Winchester way.

That fucking weirdo-nobody bunny lady will regret saying 'no' to Cardin Winchester!

#neopolitian (rwby)#trivia #rwby jaune arc #cardin winchester #jaune arc #rwby silent knight #yang xiao long

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remyfire · 4 months

Note

what if........ beejtrap 22 👀

I love you SO MUCH for requesting them!!!!! :D :D :D I think this is my first time Actually Writing Them too so I am running a victory lap rn. I hope you enjoy!! Kiss Roulette (22) A french kiss/kiss with tongue [AO3 crosspost]

Keeping his mustache exactly how BJ likes it (for this month, at least—last week it was longer, the month before shorter, the one prior to that practically handlebars) takes a steady hand and intense concentration. It has nothing to do with it being difficult to maintain with precision. No, it's entirely related to the footsteps he hears coming down the hall.

BJ keeps his gaze on the mirror, lips parted, eyes narrowed, making sure. To trim it. Just. So.

And then two broad hands find his waist.

"Whaddya doin' that for?" Trap asks. Though BJ refuses to so much as look at him in the mirror, he can hear the curve of Trapper's grin shaping those words into something that thrums a pulse of endorphins with every beat of his heart.

Of course, it wouldn't do to show him that so easily. "It's called personal hygiene, McIntyre." BJ tilts his head with a thoughtful frown, letting the light hit his cheek at a different angle. Little more. "You ever heard of it?" he asks as he brings the trimmer back to its task.

Like the bastard he is, Trap drags the tip of his nose over BJ's jawbone, then purposely finds the sensitive spot right behind his ear. "You're the fella who sucked me off last night," he purrs. "You tell me. How'd I taste?"

"Can't remember exactly. Think I'm gonna need to check again."

Trapper hums. He nips BJ's earlobe and BJ just barely keeps himself from cutting a sharp diagonal line. He's not sure the world's ready for that style yet. "Mm, by all means, take as long with that experiment as you like, honey. Hey, c'mon, that's short enough, ain't it?" As Trapper's fingers wander—one hand slipping under BJ's hem and splaying over his stomach, the other easing under his waistband into the thick thatch above his cock. "You're a fucking sexy hairy beast. Why you gotta mess with perfection, huh?"

Despite himself, BJ's lips quirk and his cheeks warm. If he's lucky, he'll be able to blame it on the bathroom still being humid from his shower. "'Cause I've always gotta keep myself perfect by staying two steps ahead of you." His smirk flashes, gleaming white and mischievous through the glass as he takes the trimmer a few inches away to consider the evenness of his mustache. "Then again, you don't exactly make it all that hard to get on top, do you?"

Trapper slaps the bottom of his hand hard enough to knock the trimmer free.

"Dick!" BJ scrambles for a second and a half to finally grab it before it can fall in the sink. The sweet serenade of Trapper's high and free laugh rings in the bathroom, through the hallway, maybe even out the open windows so the neighbors all out enjoying the pretty spring day can hear the infectious nature of it and smile too.

Fuck, the man's dizzying in every damn way. He used to be so much easier to be pissed off at. But now that mirth burrows inside BJ's chest and transforms into tendrils of desire, and not even thinking to fight it the way he did for ages, BJ lets it overtake him. He slams the trimmer down on the edge of the sink, whips around, gets a fistful of Trapper's shirt, and drives him into the wall. He gets a glimpse of the satisfaction written all over Trap's face right before BJ crushes their mouths together, shoving his tongue inside that laughing mouth whether he's ready for it or not.

He tastes like coffee, the roast that BJ prefers and that Trap started picking up from the very beginning without asking. The faint sweetness of syrup too that BJ put by his elbow with the pancakes he'd kept warm for Trap until he rolled out of bed. But BJ searches with a feral kind of hunger, twisting their tongues together fervently, until Trapper clings to him and lets his shivery moans roll out of him a little at a time. That's when BJ swears he can savor the purest essence of Trapper John McIntyre, this vulnerability that he's been offering BJ ever since the first thunderous time they locked eyes. And fuck, but is it a whole goddamn banquet.

As he breaks the kiss, heart pounding, BJ holds Trap there with a hand locked around his jaw, drinking up that handsome grin, those shining amber eyes, the way he's so completely relaxed and unafraid. They've come a long way, the two of them. Despite everything that they fought and bled through to get this far, finally, finally Trapper feels like home.

BJ takes a long, smooth breath in through his nose to cool his blood. "Oh, you're damn lucky I've got somewhere to be in fifteen minutes, McIntyre," he murmurs, watching how Trapper's pupils swell, consuming his irises little by little.

"Guess you'll just have to find me when you get back, huh, Hunnicutt?" His drawl is as ragged as the unhemmed edges where he cut the sleeves off of his messiest shirt just to get BJ hard every single time he's doing yard work.

So much for taking down the temperature. BJ darts forward, then stops himself an inch from Trapper's mouth so he can feel his hot, skittering breaths of need against his lips. "Be ready for me?"

Trapper's legs seem to buckle for a moment before he catches himself with the faintest whimper. "Three fingers. You got it, boss."

BJ chuckles as he pulls away and pats Trapper firmly but fondly on the cheek. BJ makes it exactly three steps, then turns on his heel and marches right back to shove his hands in Trap's back pockets and kiss him senseless one more time. He can be two minutes late. It's fine.

#they're in love and they're gonna eat each other alive (positive)#beejtrap #my writing #ask meme replies

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impala-dreamer · 1 year

Note

Tell me about... taking a ride on with Karl.

Anytime -

It’s better than you could have imagined, but still terrifying.

Your arms are locked tight around his waist, body pressed into his back. Your cheek rests on his leather-clad shoulders and your eyes are squeezed shut tight.

Wind is whipping around you, swirling like a storm, but it feels good. The desert sun beats down, but you’re not hot, chilled by the wind, the exhilaration, the fear.

It’s hard to hear over the roar of the engine, but Karl turns his face, looking back over his shoulder to call to you.

“OK back there?”

His crisp accent hits your ears and a shiver lights your spine. You sit up a bit, unscrew your eyes and set your chin on his shoulder, nearly bumping into his thickly stubbled jaw.

“Yeah! It’s… uh… It’s nice!”

He laughs and you can feel it rumble through his body and into yours. There’s layers of leather between you, but you can still feel it.

“Still scared?” he asks, tipping his head back a bit to eye you quickly.

You laugh and bite your lip. You meet his eyes and the world fades, your heart races. “Terrified!” you yell back and he grins.

“Better hold on tighter, then-”

He revs the engine, pushes the speedometer higher. He leans down to steady his control and you find yourself free of him for just a second as the speed increases. Your thighs are tight around the seat, and the vibrations travel up to your sex, making everything tight. Excited and curious, you let your hands unclasp, spreading your arms out, testing, daring the danger to strike.

For a moment, you’re flying. You lift your face to the cloudless blue sky, let the wind kiss your lashes, massage your face, slam into you with delicious force.

For a moment, everything is magic. The world is at peace.

The road curves slightly and Karl leans the bike to take the turn. Your fear comes crashing back into you and you grab him, locking your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. He makes a noise that echoes through him and your mind races as fast as the desert hills in the distance.

When the curve straightens, he rights the bike and you relax a little, your grip easing into a hug. He hums again at your touch and you loosen up more and more, letting your hand glide down his tight leather jacket, feeling his hard body beneath. You settle between his thighs and press down just a little.

“This is awesome!” you shout, finally understanding the appeal. It feels… good. It’s a rush, a surge of pleasure and danger that never dies down. It’s incredible.

“Sure is…” His left hand leaves the handlebar for a second and covers yours, keeping you there, urging you on.

Enthused, you rub him gently, sliding your hand down and back up until you feel him start to harden. He lets out a growl that can’t be mistaken for anything less than feral desire, and you run your thumb over the rough denim a little harder.

“Fuck!”

The bike swerves and he pulls your hand away as he slows down, turns off to the side of the road. The tires kick up sand and dust around you and the sun beams down hotter.

“Get off,” he grunts, nodding to his right.

Carefully, you dismount, still feeling the pressure and vibrations between your thighs.

Karl glares at you and lifts the bike, engaging the kickstand in the middle. The engine is still running, idling with a gentle roar. He hops off and grabs you; big hand on your waist, dragging you towards him without a care. He licks at your lips and you open for him, sighing at the heat, the wetness, the desire pulsing off of him.

He spins you around, making your head fuzzy, and sneaks his hands down to your jeans, plucking the button open. You gasp as his hand slides behind the zipper, easing it open as he goes deeper inside. His hand presses up against your pussy and he bites his lip, eyes darkening.

“All wet, huh? Guess you like motorcycles after all…”

You stare up at him, swaying a bit as he circles your clit with the tip of his middle finger. “Guess so…” Reaching for him, you wrap your hand around the nape of his neck and tug him down, shoving your tongue between his lips. It’s sloppy but you don’t care. It feels too good to think.

Without warning, Karl breaks away and tugs your jeans down. He slaps gently at your cunt and then turns you around, thick fingers around your upper arm. You stumble, pants tight around your ankles, and he pushes you down, belly on the bike seat. The engine tickles through you and you spread your legs as best you can while wiggling your panties down.

Karl hums and you can hear his belt opening, the zipper fall. He spits into his palm and rubs himself hard, all the while enjoying your squirming, plump ass hanging off his bike.

“Fuckin’ hell, woman,” he grits, rutting into his hand.

The highway is clear but you’re exposed to the world and the thought makes you drip.

He takes advantage, sliding in easily.

The desert explodes into golden light around you and you push back against him, taking him in deeper, stretching around him tightly.

He thrusts, grabs your hips, digs his blunt nails in deep. “Fuck!”

It’s a blur. A delicious, thick, amazing blur and you cum fast and hard, pulsing on his cock.

He grunts through a clenched jaw, slams harder into you, milking himself with your orgasm. He spills with a loud groan, matching the engine in pitch and grit, and then slumps down, panting against the back of your neck.

“Glad you… accepted my invite,” he whispers, slipping out of you with a wet squelch.

You trembled beneath him and chew your lip. “Anytime,” you answer, knowing it’s more true than anything you’ve ever said before. “Any… fucking… time.”

Tell Me Abouts Masterlist ~ Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works ~ Buy Me A Coffee

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#tell me about #drabble #karl urban x reader #karl urban fanfiction

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marquez-junky8920 · 2 years

Note

You know me I’m gonna request it. Riding Marc’s bike with him leading to making love on the bike 😉😏your awesome btw!! When is new content to be expected?🥰

Alright alright ladies and gents... In honor of Marc getting second place last weekend, behold

✨My Comeback✨

Bike Love

'Amore!' Marc shouted from the closet upstairs.

'Yes?' You hummed out from the kitchen. Just as you turned around from the sink you saw him jogging down the stairs in his armor jacket and gloves, helmet in hand.

'Wanna be my backpack today? It's been a while since we've taken a ride together.' He set his helmet on the counter and wrapped his gloved hand around your waist to pull you closer to him. You smiled and kissed his lips.

'I'd love to. Do you know where my jacket and boots are?'

'I think they're still in the closet. Near where my jacket was.'

'I'll be right back. Don't run off without me.'

'I would never.' He laughed at the playful glare you shot at him as he smacked your ass while you walked away. Getting to the closet, you quickly located your jacket, boots, helmet, and gloves. You got dressed as quickly as you could and made your way down the stairs and into the garage where Marc was waiting for you. His helmet was already on and when he turned his head to look at you, you felt your knees buckle. Something about him in a helmet just made you absolutely melt. Especially when he nodded his head at you like he did just now.

'Wanna take a ride?' He asked cheekily.

'What's it cost pretty boy?'

'Free of charge. Although we can negotiate favors when we get home.' He winked at you and threw his leg over the bike before revving the engine to life.

'You got yourself a deal. This better not be a cheap ride though.'

'I promise I'll make it worth your while.'

You put your foot on the back peg and swung yourself to be perched behind him. Your arms naturally went around his waist as he moved the kickstand up and pulled out of the garage and onto the road. You missed the feeling of the wind and the quiet of a bike ride with him. Life had been getting in the way so much recently between work, family, and bills that you'd sort of lost touch with the simple things in life. Starting with a couples bike ride.

'Having fun?' You heard in your ear suddenly and jumped slightly.

'Jesus... You scared me. I forgot that we have these things now.' You spoke back, laughing when you heard his laugh fill your helmet. He'd invested in some 2-way communication sets to install in your helmets so that you could talk to each other. It was probably one of the best purchases he'd made.

'Yes, I am having fun. I missed this. Just us two and the road.' You sighed, looking at the sudden wide open spaces around you. Mountains, blue skies, sun shining, and perfect temperatures.

'It has been a while. I missed you.' He admitted, letting go of one of the handlebars and grabbing hold of your hand wrapped around him. You squeezed his fingers lightly before his hand went to rest on your knee for a moment.

'Where are we even going?'

'I figured we could grab a late breakfast and just go home afterwards. Nothing too fancy.'

'God... I get a ride free of charge AND breakfast? You're spoiling me.'

'You're paying me back later, little lady. Don't think you're getting off easy.' You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. It was almost like his dirty mind was playing out right in front of you.

'I see how it is. You only like me for my blowjobs.' His helmet nodded and his shoulders shrugged before he retorted.

'Among many other things, yes. Absolutely. No questions asked.'

'You are so unbelievable.' You chuckled to yourself before just holding on for the rest of the ride.

Breakfast was fairly quiet. It was just the 2 of you in the small diner and you'd been sat next to a window with a perfect view of the mountains. He held your hand across the table the entire time and you caught him every now and then just staring at you. Like he was doing right now.

'Why do you keep staring at me? Do I have something on my face?' You asked.

'Not at all. I just like looking at my woman. Is that a crime?' He raised a playful eyebrow as he brought your hand up to kiss it. You felt your cheeks start to flush slightly.

'I suppose not.' You smiled shyly at him.

'I love you.' He said softly, still rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand.

'I love you.'

'You ready to go?' He asked.

'Yeah. Although I think I may need to unbutton my pants when I sit on the bike. I have a food baby.' You groaned, getting up from the table and patting your stomach.

'Boy or girl?' He laughed.

'We're keeping it a secret until the birth. I think it's a girl though.' You rubbed your stomach before his hand followed suit.

'Congratulations.' He smiled a smile that reached his eyes before he put his helmet back on. You got on the back of the bike and held on as he drove you home. Believe it or not, you were so full and so comfortable leaning onto his back that you began to fall asleep a little bit.

'Wake up love. You gotta hang on.' You heard Marc's voice through the comms.

'Mm... I'm so sleepy. How much longer?'

'Like 3 more minutes. You can make it.' He coaxed, rubbing his hand on your knee again. What seemed like an eternity later, he pulled up into the garage and closed the door before turning the bike off. He put the kickstand out and allowed you to get off first before he did the same. You both took your helmets, jackets, and gloves off and just as you went to turn around and walk inside to put everything away, Marc grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him. You giggled and suddenly didn't feel so tired anymore...

'Hey there gorgeous.' He bit his lip as his rough hand wandered down to grip at your ass. He was closely in tune to how your body pushed further into his touch and you craned your neck up to kiss him.

'Payment so early? I thought I'd have some time to get some lingerie on to give you a double payment.' You were so close to his mouth that you were sure he could feel your breath fanning his face as he smirked. He looked like a tiger hunting its prey with the look he was giving you.

'What's the point of that if I'm just going to rip it off of you anyway?' He lilted, going down to kiss your neck as he leaned back on his bike and taking you with him.

'I-it's fun, that's the point.' You sighed, leaning your head back to give him more access as your fingers gripped the backs of his arms.

'Mm... This is better though.' He whispered, unzipping your jeans and slowly teasing the line of your panties. He snaked his fingers inside your lace panties and rubbed light circles onto your clit. 'Don't you think?' He chuckled. You couldn't form a response as your knees buckled underneath you and a moan caught in your throat.

'I think you agree princess.' He said in a low voice that made the puddle between your legs that much worse. A moan was finally drawn from your lips when his long fingers entered inside of you and curled repeatedly. Before you could say anything, Marc had you both turned around where you were leaning back on the bike and he was pinning you between him and the leather seat that you used to support yourself.

'Oh god... I love your fingers so much.' You moaned, bringing your leg up to wrap around his waist. This was oddly attractive what he was doing - taking you over his bike like this. Never in a million years would you have thought that you'd be turned on by such a minute thing, but here you were, legs spread, his hand in your jeans, and your fingers unzipping his jeans to find his already hard cock. You gripped him and slowly began stroking him underneath his boxers, enjoying the way that his lip made its way between his perfect teeth.

'Faster.' He growled in your ear, speeding up his fingers on your clit just as your hand increased its pace. His hips began to thrust in time with your hand before he took his hand from in your jeans and grabbed your throat to bring you into a searing kiss.

'Turn around for me.' he whispered just loud enough for you to hear even though it was only the two of you in the entire house. You obeyed of course. Who wouldn't say yes to Marc Marquez telling them to turn around? You would've been stupid not to.

Marc's hands were quick in their efforts to pull your jeans just enough down your legs to where he had full access to what he wanted most. You heard him pull down his jeans as well before you jolted forward lightly at the feel of his tip running through your soaked folds.

'You look so fucking beautiful.' He sighed out, running a hand up your back and to your hair before grabbing a fistful and pulling you back just as he slammed himself inside you. He wasted no time in thrusting inside of you and setting the pace as hard and fast.

'Oh fuck! Right there right there!' You chanted, reaching behind you to grab at his hip as he continued to pound into you. His grunts and your moans filled the garage and to be quite honest, neither of you cared if the neighbors heard.

'Yeah? You like my dick, don't you?' He smirked into your ear and bit your neck lightly as a moan squeaked out from you. 'Say it. Tell me you love my dick.' He said, spanking you to emphasis his point.

'Ah! Yes I love y-you dick, oh my god yes!' You whined out as his fingers roughly played with your clit again. He was a man on a mission right now and he would stop at nothing until you were falling apart for him.

'I want you to cum. Can you do that for me amore, hm? Be daddy's little girl?' He hummed into your ear, his hot breath sending the best kinds of chills down your spine.

'Mmm yes!'

'Good girl. Now cum for daddy.' He groaned, feeling you tighten around him and your legs begin to shake as his fingers never stopped their relentless circles on your clit. 'Fuck you're so tight...' He grunted, hips stuttering and slamming into you one last time before he pulled out and got you on your knees to cum in your mouth. Seeing you on your knees and waiting for him to cum in your mouth was one of his favorite views ever. He didn't even have to do anything since your mouth took control and you hollowed out your cheeks as he released inside your mouth. Swallowing everything he had to offer, you tenderly sucked him for a few more seconds before placing one last kiss on his tip and taking his hand that he offered to help you stand up. Your arms went around his shoulders and he cocked his head sideways a little bit as if he was thinking.

'Hey, question... Is that lingerie option still on the table? I had dinner, now I want my dessert.' He said, that predatory gaze right back in his eyes.

'Give me 5 minutes and dessert will be served in bed.' You winked, kissing his lips before pulling your jeans back up and walking inside. Before you closed the garage door behind you, you looked over your shoulder to tell him something that you knew would make him crazy.

'And baby?'

'Hm?'

'Make sure to grab the whipped cream from the fridge. I'd hate to see a good dessert go to waste without a little whipped cream.'

END

#motogp #marc marquez #marc marquez smut #motogp smut #motogp imagines #motogp oneshots #smut

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 3 years

Text

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons. Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie.

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth.

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders.

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink.

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list.

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.”

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter.

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart.

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly?

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist.

Bliss.

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip.

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare.

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.”

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens.

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers.

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine.

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut.

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon?

It’s worth the mess.

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener.

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display.

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor.

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department.

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down.

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally.

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.”

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace.

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.

It always does the trick.

***

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine

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brighteststar707 · 2 years

Note

Zen + 17!! 🌸🚲🌷💕

Hi! Thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy <3

Requests are still open!

#17: Bike ride

Zen often found inspiration in his own scripts. Since he was often typecast as the romantic interest in any given story (though lately your efforts to reframe his image had been paying off), he had a lot of material to work with. The upside to studying romance scripts meant that he never ran out of ideas on ways to surprise and spoil you.

For years, he had ached for someone special to share romantic moments with, and now that you were finally in his life, he wasn’t going to miss a single opportunity. In turn, you found him and his never-ending mission to spoil you incredibly endearing.

This time, inspiration struck as you were watching a new episode of the latest drama you and Zen had been following. The main character’s love interest asks her to go on a bike ride with him, and she bashfully admits that she cannot ride a bike. The love interest offers for her to ride on the handlebars of his bike with a glimmer in his eye. She concedes and they ride through the park while bright upbeat music plays in the background. Of course, the main character is smitten.

You can immediately sense where Zen’s mind has gone the second you turn off the TV. You twist in his arms to look at his face and see a similar glint in his eye. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head, taking that scene and molding it to fit you and him.

Problem number 1: you definitely knew how to ride a bike.

You also knew that Zen was too much of a perfectionist to just come out and ask you to recreate that scene with him. He would choreograph a way for it to come up organically. Ah, your actor, you thought to yourself as you drifted off to sleep that night.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long to see what he had planned. Your first day off together was a bright and sunny day, proper spring. Over breakfast, you noticed that look in his eye again. Here we go.

“So, Angel, I was thinking about going out to the park today, to take advantage of the good weather.”

You nod encouragingly, trying to stop the smile you felt forming at the corners of your lips. You wanted to play your part.

“And I thought I might as well dig out my old bike and give it a spin, it’s been ignored for so long.”

His bicycle had been sitting by the door for as long as you can remember, all but forgotten. He had told you that it was one of the first things he owned and didn’t feel right getting rid of it, although he didn’t use it much anymore.

Here’s my cue, you think. You feign confusion and see him smile. “But Zen, darling, I don’t have a bike. Should we rent one?”

He shakes his head, fully immersed in his role. “Oh no, I was actually thinking you could ride with me.”

You can’t keep your face straight anymore. "What a good idea!" you laugh.

A short walk to the park later, and you’re hopping up onto the handlebars of Zen’s old bike. He holds it steady and tries to contain his excitement.

“Are you comfortable? Ready to go?” He asks.

You lean back just a little and feel the warmth of his shoulder against your back. If there’s one thing you know, it’s that Zen won’t let you fall.

“I’m ready.”

He kicks off from the ground and starts pedaling. The bicycle sways precariously as he tries to account for your weight and you instinctively lean further back. You feel his breath against your ear as he chuckles softly and you quickly regain balance as he picks up a bit of speed.

The actress in the drama did a good job of making it look more comfortable than it actually was. The cold metal digs into your legs and you have to keep shifting to keep from slipping off. However, the rush of riding through the park this way was worth it. You can’t remember the last time you felt so free. Somehow, you hadn’t expected it to be so fun. You laugh with childlike glee as you ride through the park, not caring whoever sees you.

When you finally stop to grab a treat from your regular kiosk, he turns to you with a signature Zen smile and asks, “So, are you smitten yet, Princess?”

You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you.

“Head over heels, my love.”

#Spring requests #darling-aries #mystic messenger #mystic messenger zen #mysme zen #hyun ryu #my writing

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nerdzzone · 3 years

Text

-More Hearts Than Mine-

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

Especially when a global pandemic is sweeping the world.

With lockdowns and stay at home orders looming on the horizon, the uncertainty of their situation becomes almost too much for Whitney Taylor to handle. Chris suggests that they quarantine together to avoid any potential separations but, given what happened the last time they spent more than a few brief moments in each other’s company, that could cause more problems than it solves…

Chris Evans x OFC

Sequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Note: Again, just a reminder that all the information I have about covid restrictions in Massachusetts is from google, not first hand experience, so if something seems wrong please just go with it.

Part Three

______

Part Four

If avoiding difficult conversations was an Olympic sport then it's pretty safe to say that I would have earned myself a gold medal by the end of the following week. It wasn't all that hard to do though as the exhaustion from parenting during a pandemic was hitting us both. Especially because the weather for the first couple of weeks of April was abysmal. It was cold, stormy and raining almost every day and we were all getting quite stir crazy from being inside constantly - especially our lively and spirited child.

So, it was a massive relief when the sun finally came out.

It was also a relief that it lined up with Grayson's third birthday.

He was going to have a very different birthday than previous years - as most people would over the next few months - but we wanted him to have fun and he was quickly tiring of all the indoor activities that we could come up with.

We set the living room up the night before after he'd gone to bed, putting up a birthday banner with several clusters of balloons, and there was quite the mountain of presents in the corner as most of our family members had sent their gifts in advance. I had hoped to wake up before him, but when I woke up to excited cheers and Dodger barking from downstairs, I knew I was too late. A quick glance at my phone told me that it was only six thirty, but clearly the excitement had gotten him up earlier than normal.

"Whoa, Dodger, Grayson, shhhh," I heard Chris warn the pair of them, his voice still raspy from sleep. "You'll wake up the whole neighbourhood."

I smiled and quickly climbed out of bed. Chris wouldn't let him open any presents without me, I knew that, but I didn't want to keep him waiting for too long.

When I got downstairs, a very excited Grayson was bouncing on the couch as Chris sat next to him, watching him closely with a smile on his face.

"Happy birthday!" I cheered, catching his attention.

He sprang off the couch and bolted towards me.

"Thanks, Mama," He shouted, throwing his arms around my legs and looking up at me. "I'm three!"

"You are!" I smiled as I knelt down in front of him and pulled him into a hug. "You're such a big boy now."

He let me squeeze him for another moment or two before wiggling free.

"Can I open presents?"

Chris laughed at his clear priorities, shaking his head as I stood up.

"Let's just wait for Uncle Scott," he suggested before glancing up at me. "He's putting the coffee on."

"Very smart," I nodded. "I think we're all going to need plenty of that today."

Grayson proved my point by grabbing at his balloons and waving them frantically, setting Dodger off barking again.

"Dodge!" Chris scolded. "It's just a balloon, buddy. Chill."

The poor overwhelmed dog hung his head and came over to me for some sympathy. I happily obliged, cooing some comforting words and rubbing his back.

"Gray, leave the balloons, okay?" I requested. "I don't think Dodger likes them."

Grayson frowned, but instantly let go of the balloon in his hand.

"Sorry, Dodger."

"It sounds like we have quite the party in here already," Scott commented as he sauntered into the room. "Shall we see what's in some of these boxes?"

"Yes! Yes!" Grayson cheered, running over to the presents. "What first?"

"Whatever you want," I told him, smiling as I went to sit on the couch next to Chris. "Do you need some help?"

"No, I can do it!" He insisted, making a bee line for the biggest box and quickly ripping the paper off.

We watched as he opened gift after gift, an ear to ear grin on his face the whole time. Just as he was at Christmas, he was incredibly grateful for every present from the Paw Patrol Lookout Tower that was almost as tall as he was to the dinosaur books that were more educational than flashy and fun.

But there was one gift at the bottom of the pile that Chris wasn't particularly impressed by. The one that my brother had sent.

Grayson opened it, pulling out a t-shirt first.

"What does it say?" He asked, holding up the shirt towards us.

Chris' jaw dropped as I stifled my giggles and Scott burst out laughing.

"It says 'Team Iron Man'," I read. "Remember how Uncle Rob was in a movie with Daddy where they had a big fight? Iron Man was Uncle Rob's character and I think Uncle Jack wants you to be on that team."

"Oh," Grayson smiled. "Okay!"

"Okay?!" Chris protested. "You don't want to be on my team?"

Grayson shrugged as he pulled something else out of the box from my brother.

"Look!" He shouted, his excitement clear as he held up a very fancy electronic Iron Man helmet. "I love it!"

I wasn't even sure that he knew what it was as he hadn't seen any of the movies yet, but his enthusiasm compared to Chris' displeasure was killing Scott and I.

"Oh, it's such a shame that your brother wasted his money," Chris said, his words dripping with sarcasm as he had a forced look of pity on his face. "Those things are expensive and Grayson is never going to wear it."

"I'll wear it!"

Grayson's insistence was followed by him putting the helmet on his head and another howl of laughter came from Scott as a look of betrayal crossed Chris' face.

"Your brother is a jerk."

His words were quiet so Grayson wouldn't hear and I smiled.

"What can I say?" I shrugged. "We're an Iron Man family..."

Chris shot me a glare, but turned his attention back to Gray.

"Well, if you don't want to be on my team then I guess I'll just have to find someone else to have the last present that I got for you..."

Chris was teasing, but Grayson whipped off the helmet faster than we could blink. He looked around, a puzzled expression on his face when he couldn't see anymore boxes on the floor and I shared his confusion as I wasn't aware of anymore gifts either. But the Evans brothers exchanged a knowing glance and I knew they were up to something.

"Maybe Miles would like it," Scott suggested. "He loves Captain America."

"Me too!" Grayson insisted, tossing the helmet aside as if it hadn't been his new prized possession moments ago. "He's my favourite!"

"Oh, is he now?" Chris laughed. "Doesn't take much to make you change your mind, does it?"

Grayson shook his head, oblivious to the fact that he was being teased, but Chris didn't torture him for too long.

"Alright, do you want to see what it is?"

"Yes, I do!"

Grayson leapt up, bouncing up and down with excitement, making Chris laugh as he stood up from the couch.

"C'mon then," he told Grayson, nodding his head towards the door. "It's this way."

Grayson scurried after his dad and I followed, my own curiosity piqued as well.

"What is it?" I asked Scott, but he just shot me a smirk.

"You'll see in a second."

I narrowed my eyes at his secrets and paused at the front door where Chris was waiting for us, his hand on the door knob as Grayson practically vibrated with excitement.

"Okay, close your eyes," Chris instructed. "No peeking!"

"I won't, I won't!"

Grayson covered his eyes as an extra assurance and Chris' grin widened even more as he swung open the door. I put my hands on Grayson's shoulders and guided him through it, seeing a shiny blue bike with a big bow on the handlebars. I felt a flash of worry at all the potential ways for Grayson to get hurt riding it, but there was no time to dwell on that as Chris told him to open his eyes and he gasped with excitement.

"A bike!" He squealed with joy, leaping off the doorstep and running towards it.

He circled it for a moment as if he was really trying to take it all in while I looked up at Chris.

"There better be a helmet with this present," I warned him. "I'm already imagining broken bones and missing teeth."

"He'll be fine," Chris assured me with a chuckle. "It has training wheels, but of course I got him a helmet."

I opened my mouth, ready to share some more potential disasters that could come from this - because even with training wheels he could still fall off or lose control and crash into a tree - but Grayson cut me off.

"Help me, Daddy! Help me!"

He was trying to climb onto the seat, but as I took in the sight of him barefoot in his pyjamas standing in the driveway, I stopped Chris as he moved towards him.

"Wait, why don't we have breakfast first?" I suggested. "We have all day to play on your bike, but you're not dressed or even wearing shoes..."

Grayson's face fell and I felt bad being the mean parent, but Chris nodded in agreement.

"Your Ma's right, Gray," he told him. "Let's go get ready and then we can come right back outside, okay?"

Grayson looked sulky, but reluctantly agreed as he walked back over to us.

"Hey now," Scott said, catching his attention. "No pouting on your birthday! We've got some chocolate chip pancakes to make! Unless that sad face means you don't want them anymore?"

His previous smile slid instantly back onto his face at the promise of such a sugary breakfast and the pep returned to his step as he grabbed Scott's hand before dragging him into the house.

I had no evidence to prove my theory, but by the time breakfast was over, I was almost certain that it would have been more relaxing to be in the middle of a hurricane. There was pancake batter all over the room and we practically had to pin Grayson to his chair to stop him from sprinting around the room with food in his mouth. It was a miracle that he got through the meal without choking.

It was impossible to be mad though when he was having such a good time. He'd had so much to adjust to lately, seeing him happy on his birthday was all that I wanted and I was willing to put up with a little more chaos than normal if it made that happen. Within reason, of course. I did stop him when he suggested that we put the entire bag of chocolate chips in the pancake batter and I did make him help me clean them up when he dumped them on the floor in protest of my ridiculous restrictions.

Once the breakfast circus was over, Chris whisked him off to get him ready to play outside while I helped Scott clean up the kitchen before going upstairs to shower and get ready myself.

When I came back down almost an hour later, I felt considerably less frazzled, but the sound of excited squeals and giggles echoing from outside told me the energy levels hadn't died down much. It really was a relief that he was having such a nice day though so I braced myself for more chaos and headed out to find them.

The sight that greeted me melted my heart completely.

Chris was running backwards across the driveway as Grayson rode towards him. He shouted encouragement the entire time, reminding him to keep pedaling and to look where he was going and cheering as Grayson rode past him before turning around and circling back.

"Look, Mama!" He shouted to me as he spotted me by the door. "I'm doing it!"

"You are, baby!" I smiled. "Good job!"

I sat on the doorstep and watched him ride in circles, proud of how fast he'd figured it out, but after a few moments, my attention turned to Chris.

There were few times since I'd known him when I'd seen him look as happy as he did in that moment. When Grayson was born, when he took his first steps and when he first said 'Dada' were probably the only comparable moments I could think of. He looked absolutely gleeful as he chased after Grayson, laughing as he passed him before dodging a different way and waiting for Gray to catch up before bolting off again. The sound of their giggles and shouts filled my heart so much that it genuinely felt like it was about to burst out of my chest and a feeling of contentedness hit me so hard that it almost knocked over.

It was a feeling that told me that they were all I ever needed. Those two boys, making each other dizzy as they ran in circles. Their happiness and love was all I could ever hope to have and moments like these were all I ever wanted to see. I wanted us to spend every weekend soaking in this kind of joy. I didn't want to fight and argue and transport Grayson back and forth every other week. I wanted to give Grayson what he deserved, I wanted us to be a family.

But as fast as that clarity hit me, the knots in my stomach were there to remind me that it wasn't just about what I wanted. It wasn't about what would bring us the most moments of delight, it was about what would provide Grayson with the most stability and being a family might do more harm to that goal than good.

It was a constant battle between my heart and my head, but I was starting to realize that my head was losing. I was clinging to my resistance with all I had, but it was slipping away. I knew I needed to talk to Chris, to sort out the fog in my brain, but for the time being, I pushed it out of my mind. This was Grayson's day and we didn't have time for anymore heart-wrenching conversations.

I was snapped out of my thoughts as Scott appeared from the side of the house on roller blades and the unexpected sight pulled a laugh from my lips as he sailed past Chris and Grayson and headed down the driveway.

"Gray, follow me!"

Gray nodded, frantically pedaling to catch up with his uncle as they sped off down the long drive. Chris watched them for a minute before jogging over to me.

"He got it so fast," he puffed as he fought to catch his breath. "He's a natural."

"The training wheels help," I pointed out, shielding my eyes from the sun as I looked up at him. "But it's fine because he'll be keeping those on until he's at least eighteen."

Chris barked out a laugh, shaking his head.

"No way," he smirked. "We'll have them off by next week."

"Not a chance. I need at least six months to get used to that idea."

"How about we meet in the middle and aim for three?"

"Hmm, maybe," I bit back a smile. "We'll have to see how many injuries he gets with the training wheels on first."

"He'll be fine. He's a champ," Chris grinned proudly. "We've got a pretty great kid."

"We do," I patted the step next to me as I made room for Chris to sit down. "I can't believe he's already three."

Chris accepted my silent invitation and sat down next to me.

"I know," he sighed. "It feels like just yesterday that he was born..."

"He was so tiny," I reminisced. "And you had those huge Captain America muscles."

Chris laughed as he nodded at the memory.

"I was so scared to hold him in case I accidentally crushed him."

"I was so scared of everything," I admitted. "It wasn't until he was actually born that it really hit me that we were completely responsible for his well-being and keeping him alive."

"We've done well with that though!"

"We have," I agreed with a smile. "He's alive and thriving."

"We make a good team."

He flashed me a warm smile that made my heart beat stutter and it almost stopped completely when he stretched out a hand and placed it on mine. His touch was gentle and the warmth of his skin flooded through me even more than the sun streaming down on us. It was a simple gesture, but it eased the heaviness that had been hovering between us lately and I was grateful. I carefully flipped my hand over so our palms pressed together and let our fingers interlace. His smile widened as he looked back out at the driveway, his eyes settling on Grayson in the distance who was laughing at something Scott said.

"Thank you," Chris sighed, his voice quiet and filled with genuine appreciation. "I don't think I've ever said it, but thank you for making me a dad."

His words almost brought tears to my eyes, but I shook my head.

"Chris, you don't need to than-"

"I do," he insisted, cutting me off. "He's the best thing that ever happened to me and he wouldn't be here without you."

"I could say the same," I pointed out, trying to ignore the way his thumb was stroking the back of my hand. "He gets most of his good traits from you too. His kind heart, his sensitive little soul, his loyalty."

"His infuriating stubbornness."

"He gets that from both of us," I smiled. "He didn't stand a chance with that one."

"Well, I hope he gets some of your selflessness," Chris informed me, glancing over and looking a tad sheepish. "Because, as much as I disagree with it and I wish you'd be a little selfish, I get that you're trying to look out for him."

I felt my palms start to sweat and I wondered if he could feel it. I resisted the urge to snatch my hand away from his, trying to play it cooler than I felt. He was watching me closely as I mulled over his words until I found the strength to speak.

"I'm not so sure that it's just him that I'm trying to look out for," I admitted, exhaling a breath that I didn't realize I was holding. "I do think we have more to talk about, Chris, but I don't think this is the right time."

"You're right," he nodded. "I just felt like I owed you an apology after the other night. I let my feelings get the best of me and I came across a little harsh."

I was about to reassure him that he hadn't when the sound of honking interrupted our conversation. Our attention was pulled to the end of the driveway where two cars - belonging to Chris' mom and his sister - were pulling in as Scott moved Grayson and Dodger off to the side to let them past.

"Did you know they were coming?" I asked, surprised by the little motorcade.

"Nah, I had no idea," Chris shrugged. "We'll stay outside though, keep our distance."

I wasn't worried about that really, I knew all of Chris' family were staying very isolated and being smart about staying safe and we were technically allowed to have outdoor gatherings of up to ten people anyway with the current rules in place. I was surprised to see them though as we'd warned Grayson that he would only get to see most of his family over FaceTime. His excitement at that being untrue was clear as he frantically pedaled back up the driveway to greet his guests.

"Mama! Daddy! Look!"

I let Chris' hand fall away from mine as we stood, smiling at Grayson's excitement as everyone started getting out of their cars. They burst into a rousing chorus of 'Happy Birthday' making Gray's grin grow even more.

"Happy birthday, Grayson!" Lisa beamed as Grayson ran towards her full speed. He threw his arms around her legs before we could even remind him to keep his distance, but Lisa seemed unbothered by it. "Have you had a good day so far?"

"Yes!" Gray smiled up at her. "I got a bike!"

"I saw that!" Lisa matched his enthusiasm. "You're a lucky boy!"

Grayson shot her another smile before turning his attention to his cousins.

"Wanna try?"

His older cousins were probably too big, but Stella's hand shot up first and beat them to it anyway.

"That's really nice of you to share," I called over to Grayson. "But share your helmet too, okay?"

He nodded and struggled with the clip for a few minutes before Lisa helped him take it off and placed it on her granddaughter's head.

Once they were all happy, chasing Stella and Dodger around the drive way, the adults moved over towards us. Lisa was the first to speak, a guilty look on her face.

"I hope you don't mind us just showing up like this, but we couldn't stay away on his birthday..."

"It's great!" Chris assured her. "Don't worry about it."

"And Grayson seems thrilled," I added. "It's nice for him to have other kids to run around with for a bit."

We all turned to watch them as they played until Carly let out a laugh.

"Are Grayson's shoes on the wrong feet?"

I hadn't even noticed, but I laughed as well when I realized that she was right.

"Some days just getting him in shoes at all is a victory," Chris defended himself. "And today was one of those days."

"He's like the energizer bunny this morning," Scott joked. "I can't imagine what he'll be like after we get some cake into him."

"Just think how well he'll sleep tonight," Carly pointed out. "He has to crash eventually."

"I hope so," Chris smiled. "He had me up at six o'clock this morning, I need an early night."

That earned a laugh from the group as his siblings teased him about being such an old man, but I felt a pang of sympathy for him, knowing that he'd been up early with Grayson a lot lately. Maybe it was because we were at his house so it was what Gray was used to, but Chris was definitely the favourite for the early morning wake up call.

We stood in our little circle for a while, just catching up as we watched the kids, all of us enjoying conversation with someone other than the people we were locked up with twenty-four hours a day. It was nice for me to have some female company as well even though Lisa was very pleased to hear that her boys were pulling their weight around the house and not just treating me like some kind of live-in maid.

It didn't take long for the kids to get tired of sharing the bike, especially the older boys who were too big for it anyway, and soon they were swarming around us demanding that we all play a game. After being cooped up for so long, it didn't seem like a bad idea to get us all moving around a little so we agreed and set about the daunting task of finding something everyone was willing to play.

Eventually, we settled on capture the flag - girls against boys. Lisa decided she'd make a better referee than a player so the boys team had one extra member, but they had three children to our one so it hardly seemed like the extra person would cause any unbalance.

The rules of the game were simple: each team had three flags in our 'end zone' at opposite ends of the large grassy part of Chris' yard and the other team had to try to steal those flags. We had to grab it and run it all the way back to our own end zone to score a point, but once it was safely 'captured' it couldn't be stolen back. If someone managed to snatch a flag, but was tagged on their way back to their end zone then they had to give the flag back.

Lisa was very firm in reminding her children that tackling was not allowed as the Evans siblings were fiercely competitive and it had apparently led to trouble over the years. Once the rules were all set, we took our places and started the game.

The teams were fairly evenly matched. The boys had more strength, but we had more agility and were much better at communicating and working together which led to us easily scoring the first point. While Stella distracted Scott, Carly snuck past him to snatch the flag and she tossed it to Shanna who faked a pass to Stella before throwing it to me to get it to the safe zone. It was a beautifully executed play that showed the boys we weren't messing around.

"Oh, it's on now," Chris called out as he sprinted past me.

Shanna bolted after him, but he managed to grab the flag and throw it to Ethan before she caught up. With all the other boys guarding him, he made it all the way back to their end zone without getting tagged.

"I think having a super soldier on your team is an unfair advantage ," Carly huffed, but Chris shook his head with a smirk.

"Nah, because we have Scott too so it balances out."

"Hey!" Scott protested. "I'll switch teams if you're going to be rude!"

Stella jumped for joy at that idea, pleading with him to come onto our side, but the rest of the boys voiced their protests and he decided that, as long as there was no more hurtful comments, he would stick to his team for now. I used their bickering as a distraction though as I snuck closer towards their unguarded flags. I managed to grab one before Scott noticed and called out a warning to the rest of his team, but when I took off running and Grayson charged towards me, I didn't have the heart to out run him on his special day. I slowed down enough that he wouldn't realize I was letting him win and groaned dramatically as he tagged me, making me give up the flag.

"I did it!" He cheered. "Daddy! Did you see? I did it!"

Stella had a disappointed scowl on her face, but everyone else was understanding as they watched Chris scoop him up onto his shoulders, chanting his name as if he'd just won the World Cup while he carried him back to replace the flag.

Their celebration was short-lived though as we managed to steal the flag again almost as soon as Chris and Grayson were far enough away from it. After another perfectly executed play, the score was sitting at 2-1 for us. The pressure was on after that as we only needed one more point to win, it ramped up the competitive spirit.

We were off to a great start in the next round. Shanna got the flag quickly, but Scott had her cornered almost immediately so she tossed it to me. I got about ten steps before Chris was on my heels and I was forced to throw it over to Carly. Chris turned and went to chase after her instead and without even thinking, I leapt on his back to stop him.

"Hey!" He protested, slowing to a stop despite how he was clearly unaffected by my weight. "Is anyone seeing this? This has got to be a foul! She tackled me!"

"I did not tackle you!" I insisted, clinging to his shoulders with my legs wrapped around his waist. "If it was a tackle, you'd be on the ground."

Chris wiggled around, trying to throw me off his back as Carly sauntered into our end zone with the flag.

"The only reason I'm not on the ground is because you're too weak," Chris argued before shouting to his mom. "That doesn't count!

"No, Mama," Grayson joined in, running over to us looking very disapproving. "No cheating!"

I laughed, but slid down from Chris' back.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" I held my hands up as I apologized. "I can't outrun Captain America, I had no choice!"

"Well, now you lost the point," Chris teased me, shoving me playfully and making me stumble a step away from him. "So, lets keep it fair and stop trying to cheat."

I swatted back at him as I stuck out my tongue while Lisa made the official call that the point didn't count and Scott took the recently captured flag back to the boy's end zone.

Chris had a new twinkle in his eye as the next round started. He hadn't let me get very far away from him and I quickly realized that I'd made a mistake by antagonizing him. I would be useless to my team if he was on my tail the whole time, but he was a tank and incredibly fast so getting away from him was next to impossible. I watched helplessly as Scott and Miles easily took our flag and dashed it back to their end zone to tie the score.

"Chris!" I whined as I tried to get around him like I was a cornered puppy, trying not to get caught. "Get away from me, you big oaf!"

"Oh, wow," Chris chuckled. "Let's not start calling names and being mean."

I tried to dart past him again, but groaned as he blocked my path.

"You're infuriating!"

"It's all part of the game."

The smirk on Chris' face had my competitive side firing up as I could see behind him that Miles had snatched our last flag. Stella was hot on his heels though, so he had no choice, but to pass to Grayson who was coming our way. Was I going to stop my three year old son from scoring the game winning point on his birthday? Probably not. But I had to at least make my attempt genuine so I came up with a plan.

"Is that..." I squinted off into the distance on the other side of the yard. "Is that Dodger chasing a cat?"

My Oscar worthy performance had Chris spinning around to check out what I saw and it gave me enough time to bolt away towards Grayson who wasn't far away from winning the game for his team. I made it an impressive five steps before Chris figured out what I'd done and came after me. Grayson saw what was happening and dodged to the left so I followed, but my change of direction gave Chris an opportunity. The next thing I knew, I felt a crash against my hips before I was lifted from the ground and found myself dangling over Chris' shoulder.

I let out a squeal of surprise as I kicked my legs, trying to get down, but Chris had a tight grip on me and there was no getting away. The ease with which he threw me around wasn't at all distracting and there wasn't a single part of me that was revelling in his strength. Not at all.

"This is absolutely a tackle!" I protested, focusing my mind back onto my predicament. "Put me down!"

"If this was a tackle, you'd be on the ground," he mocked me. "This is payback."

I had a nice view, my head only inches above 'America's ass' so, swept up in the moment of playfulness between us, I reached down and gave it a smack. He yelped and jumped, shaking me as he did.

"Chris! Put me down!"

My demands were weakened by the giggles that I couldn't hold back, but thankfully Scott stepped in to help me regain some dignity.

"Alright, you two," he called over. "Can we get back to the game now or would you like us all to give you some time alone?"

A blush covered my cheeks as I remembered that his entire family was around us and was relieved when he lowered me to the ground.

"Games over," Chris called back. "Grayson scored!"

Grayson jumped up and down happily, but Stella had a scowl on her face.

"Nuh uh! When Whitney tackled you, it didn't count!" She pointed out. "Grayson's point doesn't count too!"

The joy on Grayson's face fell into a look of anger as he stomped his foot at his cousin’s claim.

"It does!" He insisted. "I did it!"

"Now look what you've done," I playfully scolded Chris quietly before shouting to the rest of the group. "I think we're going to have to let them have the point, ladies. I wouldn't have been able to catch up to Grayson even if Chris didn't cheat..."

Stella's jaw dropped in clear shock that I hadn't supported her protests, but to stop the war before it could start, Chris chimed in.

"Grayson didn't need my help to score that point, I shouldn't have interfered," he started. "But why don't we call it a game and go have some cake?!"

The promise of sugar seemed to quash any animosity between the teams as all the kids let out a shriek of approval at that suggestion and took off running back to the house.

"Oh, yes," Carly sighed. "Because what my children clearly need right now is more energy..."

"It's Gray's birthday," Chris shrugged with a smile as we all followed the children at a much more reasonable pace. "We have to have cake!"

"And if it wasn't his birthday then I wouldn't have let you win."

My taunting earned a bark of laughter from Chris.

"Let us win? Yeah, sure, okay. You just keep telling yourself that you're faster and stronger than me," he teased. "Whatever makes you feel better."

I shoved him, but he was braced for it and I ended up more affected by the impact than him which proved his point, putting a smirk on his face.

"Asshole," I muttered as I shook my head, but I couldn't hold back a smile at how nice our affectionate teasing felt.

By the end of the day, we were all exhausted. It had been a fun and very special day for Grayson so we were thrilled for him, but exhausted nonetheless. Gray fought his bedtime with all the will power he had, eager for the day to go on just a little bit longer, but we won out in the end and he made it to bed on time. Scott had gone to his own room while we were fighting with him and Chris and I parted ways shortly after to get some much needed quiet time of our own.

I found myself distracted though, when I was finally alone, as the importance of the day had me feeling sentimental. Watching Grayson grow up and hit these milestones was a joy, but it left me feeling a bit reminiscent of the years gone by. Years when he was even smaller than he was now, just starting to figure out the world and how to speak, walk and be a part of it. The time was really flying by and as I began to scroll through old videos of his first year of life, the nostalgia was almost too much to bear.

Eventually, I stumbled on a video that had distinct parallels of today.

It was a video of Grayson's first birthday when we'd given him his own little cake and let him go to town on it. Of course, as many babies do, he'd stared at it for a moment before smashing his face directly into it. It was adorable and tugged on my heart strings considering how comparatively neat his cake consumption was earlier that day. He'd grown so much in such a short time and I felt compelled to share my discovery with Chris so I dragged myself out of bed and crept down to his room.

There was a fluttering of nerves in my stomach as I knocked on his bedroom door, the feeling only growing as he called out an invitation to come inside. I did as he'd asked and let myself in, finding him leaning back against the headboard of his bed - wearing nothing but his pajama pants - with his own phone in his hand.

"Hey," he smiled. "What's up?"

"I found a video," I told him, standing awkwardly near the foot of his bed. "I was feeling a little sad about how fast Gray is growing up so I was looking back, watching old videos and I found one that I thought you might like to see."

Chris’ smile widened and he eagerly patted the bed next to him, encouraging me to sit. I took him up on his offer and settled in as I unlocked my phone and started the video.

"He was so little..."

Chris' observation came as the camera settled on Gray where he sat in his high chair. Chris was right next to him, a grin on his face as he chatted happily to our son despite the nonsense babble that he got in response. I appeared on the screen after a few moments, carrying a tiny cake as everyone started to sing Happy Birthday. Grayson had a look of confusion on his face as he looked around at the crowd, but his eyes widened when the cake was placed in front of him.

"Go on, Gray," I prompted once the singing had stopped. "You can taste it."

He needed no more encouragement and simply face planted right into it, popping up a moment later with blue icing from the tops of his eyebrows to the bottom of his chin. He had a huge, cheeky grin on his face as he looked at us and, just as he did in the video, Chris laughed next to me.

"Oh, man, it kills you, doesn't it?" He questioned before clarifying. "How cute he is."

I hadn't realized that Chris' arm had found its way behind me when he leaned in to watch until I felt his breath on my hair as he spoke and I couldn't resist leaning back, tucking myself under his shoulder. The whole day, the knowledge that my baby was growing up, had me needing some comfort. It was exciting, to see him learn and shift from a baby to a little person, but at the same time, I felt the overwhelming urge for time to stop.

"It does," I agreed, letting my phone fall to the bed beside me. "I can't believe how much he's changed since then."

"In some ways," Chris agreed, looking down at me with a smirk. "In others, he's still that goofy, reckless baby."

"If he's anything like you, he'll probably never grow out of being goofy and reckless."

I felt Chris' shoulders shake as he chuckled at my teasing and I was reminded of the last time we'd been cuddled up, in a similar position to this, in his bed. I felt a flood of warmth run through my body at the memory as I was suddenly aware of how close we were, aware of how good he smelt and how strong his hard muscled arm felt as I leaned against it.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"I meant it as one," I assured him. "I like that you're goofy. Your recklessness used to give me anxiety sometimes, when you'd always insist that you just had to do your own stunts on Captain America as if you really thought you were a super soldier, but I like that you're willing to take risks."

"Awe, gee, Whitney," he teased, squeezing me closer against him. "It was nice of you to worry about me."

"Of course I worried," I rolled my eyes. "Your muscles are bigger than your brain sometimes."

"Not anymore..." Chris held up the arm that wasn't currently around me and flexed his muscles, showing off a bicep that was still much larger than most even if it wasn't quite up to the Avengers standard. "I'm out of shape."

Against my own best interest, I turned slightly, letting my hand drift up towards his arm as my head fell against his chest. I traced over the bulging muscle and watched as tiny goosebumps rose up on his skin at the sensation. Skin that felt so soft under my touch and I felt his breath shift as he clearly felt the mood between us change the same way that I did. I felt emboldened by how amorous our emotional day had left me as I let my head tip back to find him looking down at me with the same intensity he had a few months ago.

My breath caught in my throat and I couldn't help myself. Despite every alarm bell going off inside my brain, I stretched up just enough to press my lips against his. For a moment, he relaxed. His shoulders dropped as my fingers curled around the arm they were just stroking, but then suddenly his entire body tensed as if he'd been shocked by a bolt of electricity. He jerked away, sliding out from under me and off the bed before I could even realize what was happening.

"No," he said firmly, pointing his finger at me the same way he did to Dodger when he was being naughty. "No, no, we're not doing this again. Not until we talk about it what's going on here."

I felt the sting of rejection so harshly that it almost brought tears to my eyes, but I knew he was right.

"I'm sorry," I squeaked out, my cheeks burning. "You're right. I shouldn't have done that."

My voice was shaking as I scrambled to stand up, the stunned look on Chris' face only adding to my embarrassment. We stood there, staring at each other with the bed between us, but he didn't speak and after a few moments of silence, my shame was overwhelming, kicking my flight instincts into gear.

"I'll go," I mumbled. "Sorry again."

I didn't wait for a response before darting towards the door, but Chris' voice stopped me before I could make my escape.

"Whitney, stop." He didn't shout, but his tone was firm and demanding enough that I froze on the spot. "We need to talk about this. We can't keep going on with it hanging above our heads."

I turned to face him, discovering that he'd moved closer and was standing by the foot of the bed. He was still a few feet away from me, but close enough that it felt almost suffocating and I bit my lip as I stared at his feet, unable to look him in the eye.

"I don't know what to say..."

"I can take it," he insisted, a hint of resignation in voice as he continued. "You've had plenty of time to think it over since our last conversation and you said earlier today that we needed to talk. If you're gonna turn me down, put whatever this is to bed, just do it now and get it over with."

I furrowed my brow in confusion at his words, my heart beating in my chest so fast that I could hear the blood pumping through my ears.

"Turn you down?" I questioned. "Why do you think I'm going to turn you down? I just kissed you."

"That didn't mean much at Christmas."

He had a very valid point and I felt another pang of guilt at how badly I was treating him. I was hot and cold, affectionate and withdrawn, unwavering in my decision one minute and unsteady the next. I hadn't spared much thought to how cruel that was and now that I'd realized, I couldn't hold back the frustrated groan that fell from my lips.

"I don't know what to do, Chris! I think I know what the right decision is. It's what always felt like the safer choice, but then there are times when that's just..." I paused, taking in a deep breath to work up a dash of courage. "It's not what I want."

Chris watched me closely as if choosing his next words very carefully.

"If the safer choice isn't what you want then it sounds like maybe you need to take a risk. You can't live your life making decisions out of fear."

My eyes narrowed. He was over simplifying the situation. That way of thinking might work if it was just the two of us, but with Gray in the middle, things were more complicated.

"It's not that straight forward."

I shook my head as I spoke, but Chris countered with a nod.

"Sure, it is," he shrugged before asking a question that almost stopped my heart. "Do you love me?"

I stared at him, opening my mouth to speak and then closing it again when the words didn't come. I stood there, gaping at him like some kind of ridiculous puffer fish, until I finally got a word out.

"What?"

A smirk slid onto Chris' face at my floundering as he repeated the question.

"Do you love me?" He asked. "And don't say it doesn't matter or it's not important. Just yes or no."

I stared at him for a moment longer as a war between my head and heart raged inside me. Deny, deny, deny was what my head was screaming, but in the end the quiet reminder of now or never from my heart was what won out.

"Yes, I do," I admitted, proud of my voice for not breaking. "I always have."

There was a grin on Chris' face now, but my stomach churned because it didn't mean anything. As I said, I'd loved him all along and yet here we were, no better off.

"That's all that matters then," he insisted. "We can figure out the rest."

"But what if we can't figure it out?" I protested, crossing my arms as if I could somehow fold into myself and disappear completely. "What if it's nice for a while and then it all comes crashing down around us? What about Gray?"

He shrugged again. His whole demeanour miles away from my own. He seemed confident, hopeful, almost excited while I felt nauseous, terrified and paralyzed by fear.

"But what if it doesn't? What if it all works out nicely? Why are you so convinced that we wouldn't last?"

"Because you're you," I reminded him, my tone flat as I stated the obvious. "Hollywood super star, Chris Evans. And I'm me, a boring nobody. You could have pretty much any famous actress you want, the only person who wants to be with me is the creepy maintenance worker in our apartment building."

Chris looked taken aback as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What? I've never heard about this guy."

"He's just some weird guy who does the repairs," I shrugged. "He comments on my outfits and looks at me in this way that makes my skin crawl, but he's harmless."

"Doesn't sound harmless to me," Chris argued, crossing his arms as a thunderous look settled on his face. "Does he have access to your place?"

"No!" I assured him, but after my quick answer I realized that I wasn't so sure. "Well, I don't know. He might have a spare key, I guess. If most maintenance people do? They have to give me notice before they enter the apartment anyway."

"Unless he's sneaking in to perv on you."

"Chris! That's gross!" I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "Why would you put that thought in my head?!"

"I told you that you should have let me buy you a house," Chris huffed. "You're moving when all this covid shit is over."

"Oh my god," I groaned having flashbacks to our conversation a few weeks ago about him buying me a car. "All of this is so beside the point! We're talking about how you'd get bored of me and leave me heartbroken for some flashy Hollywood babe, remember?"

"Right," Chris nodded, letting his arms fall to his side. "But that's such a ridiculous idea that I thought it was hardly worth acknowledging."

His dismissal of one of my biggest fears sent a flash of anger through me.

"How is it ridiculous?" I snapped. "It's true!"

"You know me, Whitney," Chris sighed. "You know that my team had to practically force me into doing Captain America because I had one foot out the door of the whole acting gig and I hated the way Hollywood made me feel. Do you really think that I would give up a chance at a having family with you, someone who I really care about, for some wild, short-lived fling?"

His tone conveyed his disbelief, but he hadn't quite accurately interpreted what I meant.

"I think you'd regret it," I clarified. "I think that once the initial excitement wore off, you'd see that I'm nothing special and that I don't fit in your world."

Chris was looking at me as if I'd grown an extra head and I crossed my arms a little tighter around myself.

"We were friends long before Grayson came around and I've always thought that you were something special. Where is all this insecurity coming from, Whitney? Because I just don't get it."

I swallowed hard as I bit my lip. I felt incredibly vulnerable and the urge to run away and continue ignoring all my feelings seemed much preferable to standing here and analyzing them all, but I stayed strong. We were both adults and this was the only way to move forward. Whether it ended how Chris wanted or not, he deserved to know how I felt.

"I spent a long time convincing myself that you didn't care about me as anything more than a friend. I told myself that it was an insane idea because we're in two very different leagues so there was no point getting my hopes up. Then that night happened and I thought that maybe I'd been wrong, that it could be the start of a really good thing, but then you were gone by the time I woke up and you never called."

I barely choked out the last few words as I fought back the tears that were swimming in my eyes. An unmistakable look of guilt flashed onto Chris' face and he opened his mouth to comment, perhaps to defend himself, but I held up a hand to stop him. I needed to get it out or I never would.

"Then three weeks later, I found out I was pregnant," I continued. "I assumed from your silence that you didn't want to be with me and I knew that we were good together as friends so I kept my feelings to myself and spent the last three and a half years beating myself up for thinking for even one second that you would want to be with me."

"I did want to be with you..."

Chris was looking at me with those puppy dog eyes that he'd mastered and I sniffled as a tear slipped down my cheek.

"I know that now, but I can't just turn those thoughts off."

Chris sighed and rubbed his hands over his face before holding out his arms.

"C'mere."

I shook my head, wiping my tears as I worried that I'd fall apart completely if I stepped into his arms, but when he persisted and gestured me over again, I couldn't resist. I took the few steps needed to close the space between us and let my arms slide around his waist. He hugged me close to his body, burying his face in my hair as pressed mine into his muscled chest. We stayed like that for a few moments until Chris broke the silence.

"I'm sorry. I was an idiot," he apologized, his words muffled by my hair. "I should have fought for you. At the very least, I should have stayed until you woke up and I should have called, but I was scared too."

I felt more tears fill my eyes as I choked out a soft "I know".

Another silence fell between us before Chris spoke again, his words making my heart almost stop completely.

"I was going to propose." I pulled back at that confession, my eyes wide as I looked up at him unable to process his words fast enough to speak before he continued. "I called my mom up as soon as you told me you were pregnant. I wanted her to help me pick out a ring, but she talked me out of it. Said you'd think I was doing it for all the wrong reasons."

My heart fluttered back to life at the sincerity in his admission, but I nodded my head.

"Your mom is a smart lady," I told him. "I absolutely would have thought you were only doing it because you felt you had to."

"It wasn't out of obligation though," he insisted. "Maybe I was getting a bit ahead of myself leaping straight to marriage, but I cared about you. It was an opportunity to make it official, make that commitment and be a family. That's what I wanted."

I stayed quiet, resting my head back against his chest as I tried to take in all this new information. It was a lot to process especially when it directly contradicted the belief I had clung to for so long - that Chris and I would never work and for Grayson's sake we were better off apart. That assumption was so deeply embedded in my brain that it was hard to find the courage to take such a risk.

As if Chris could sense my lingering indecision, he continued.

"It's still what I want," he said softly. "Being here these last few weeks with you and Grayson as a family has been a dream come true. I wouldn't give it up for anything or do anything to jeopardize it if you'd just give me a shot."

The word 'okay' was so close to the tip of my tongue that it shocked me.

That was all I had to do, just open my mouth and agree and he would be mine.

My heart was pleading with me to do it, to take that leap and ignore any of the arguments against it that were running through my mind - especially now that those arguments seemed much less sound than they had a few short weeks ago. I was so conflicted that it almost physically pained me to have to make a decision and I couldn't help, but wonder how he could be so certain.

So, I leaned back and tilted my head so my eyes could meet his.

"How can you be so sure?" I questioned. "After how things have been these last few years, how can you be so confident in your feelings?"

"Because I love you," he told me plainly and with unwavering surety. "If you tell me right now that it's not what you want, then I'll accept your decision. But if there's a hint of a chance, then I'll wait as long as I need to. I've been waiting for years, thinking that I didn't even have a shot, I think I can wait a little longer now that I know that I might."

It was another heart wrenchingly honest explanation, another vulnerable admission, and something in the openness with which he spoke made me realize that over the last three years he had done nothing to earn any distrust from me. Even after the fallout from Christmas, he'd put his hurt feelings and pride aside to make things easier for me. He'd been sincere during every discussion we'd had since then and hadn't been cruel or impatient about my indecision. I had no reason at all, other than my own fear and insecurities, to assume that he was going to break my heart and tear apart our family.

He deserved a little bit of trust from me as well and a clarity washed over me as I finally knew what I had to do.

There were words I could have said, probably should have said, but I didn't feel like there was anything that would accurately portray how I was feeling. I settled for a more direct approach as I pressed up onto my toes and let my lips fall against his.

He tensed at first and for a brief, heart stopping moment, I thought he might push me away again, but he didn't. He relaxed, pulling me closer as my hands slid to cup his neck.

It was a soft kiss. A gentle, loving kiss, that I hoped conveyed what I couldn't figure out how to say. But when our lips parted and he leaned down to rest his forehead on mine, there was a concern in his eyes that told me I wasn't going to get away with it that easily.

"What does that mean?"

I bit my lip, staring up past his long eyelashes into his eyes. There was still a tiny voice in my head telling me to run, to stop being so foolish and leave now before I made a mistake, but my heart had found its footing now and wasn't going to back down. Listening to my head all this time hadn't made things any easier, so it was time to try something else.

"It means," I started, taking in a shaky breath. "I don't want to keep you waiting anymore."

Chris let out a breath of relief as a tentative smile slid onto his face.

"Really? You're sure?"

I swallowed hard and nodded my head.

"Yes," I breathed out, my voice thick with all the emotions swirling through me.

He dipped his head a touch lower until our lips were reconnected. It was a deeper kiss, more desperate than the first as his tongue slid against mine and his grip tightened on my waist, my nails scraping against the fuzz of his recently cut hair. I caved into him, clinging to him like he was a lifeboat in a storm until he pulled back to take a breath.

My chest heaved against his, the adrenaline of his touch and what this finally meant, almost too much to handle. I settled back down, flat on my feet and nuzzled my face back into his chest as I fought to calm my racing mind and just enjoy the moment.

"You really mean it?" Chris asked again, the shakiness of his voice filling me with another pang of guilt. "You really want to give this a try?"

"I mean it," I nodded against him. "Doesn't mean my concerns have all vanished in the last five minutes, but I...I think I need to trust you."

"I won't let you down," he murmured into my hair as he pulled me even closer. Another silence fell between us until I broke it with an embarrassingly large yawn and Chris' chest shook as he chuckled. "Do you wanna sleep down here tonight?"

As soon as he'd asked the question, it suddenly hit me how exhausted I was. Even just the thought of walking upstairs seemed like an impossible task when there was such an inviting, comfortable bed only steps away from where I stood. But a thought popped into my head that I couldn't ignore and I turned my head slightly so I wasn't speaking directly into Chris' muscles.

"What about Gray?" I asked. "He always comes to you in the morning..."

"Would it matter?"

His tone wasn't accusing or annoyed, but genuinely curious as sharing a child did add a strange new element to all this. I didn't really know what the best way to handle it was since Grayson didn't really understand our relationship or know how a typical family was set up anyway, but it didn't seem like the best way to introduce him to the idea.

"I think we should talk to him about it instead of just letting him stumble on us in bed together," I suggested. "But I think maybe we should wait a while?"

Chris' face fell as the look of worry returned.

"You want to keep this a secret?"

"I didn't mean it like that," I shook my head. "You can tell whoever you want, but I think we should figure things out, make sure things are stable between us before we try to explain it to Gray."

"Alright, that's fair," Chris agreed before leaning down to place another soft kiss on my lips. "I'll wake you up before he comes down."

"Okay," I nodded as I let my thumb stroke his cheek.

We reluctantly slipped out of each other's arms, but it was a brief separation as we climbed into opposite sides of the bed. Once we'd turned the lights off, we met in the middle and he pulled me back against his chest, letting me hook my leg over his hip as we settled against each other.

Chris ran a hand up and down my spine as he nuzzled in my hair.

"This feels nice..."

"It does," I hummed. With the darkness around us, the quiet that had settled in, I felt encouraged to say something that I'd felt I should have said long ago. "I'm sorry, Chris."

I felt him tense.

"For what?"

"For messing you around so much," I admitted. "Especially at Christmas...that wasn't cool."

"If I had expectations, I should have laid them out before anything happened." His answer sounded rehearsed, as if he'd spent a long time convincing himself of that fact. I wasn't entirely sure it was a fair statement, but he continued before I could question it. "I can understand where you were coming from, but I promise I won't hurt you."

I felt a pang of uncertainty because that wasn't always a promise that could be kept, but the sincerity in his voice gave me hope. I placed a soft kiss against his chest as his hands slid up under the loose shorts I was wearing to cup my bum.

"I love you," I mumbled against his skin.

"I love you too," he replied, making a feeling of warmth flood through me. "Thank you for giving me a chance."

I sighed happily as my exhaustion had my eyes fluttering shut. I wanted to stay awake, to keep this moment before the brightness of the morning could bring any doubts or second guesses, but I was powerless to resist as sleep overtook me.

Part Five

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #more hearts than mine

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comfortwriting · 4 years

Text

I Wanna Be Your Dog - G.W

George Weasley X Fem Reader one shot/imagine inspired by the song ‘I Wanna Be Your Dog’ by The Stooges.

About: You bring your best friend George along with you to a muggle rock n roll gig, both of you get heavily intoxicated, George gets overprotective after another guy tries to chat you up. The two of you go back to your place afterwards, getting into a steamy situation.

Warnings: 18+!! Alcohol and intoxication, heavy smut, unprotected rough sex, choking and ‘foul’ language.

“That was bloody mental” George slurred, already drunk from all the pre-drinks you both necked down before the gig.

You wanted to let loose for one evening after studying so hard and what better way to reward yourself for your N.E.W.T.S results than going to a local gig with your best friend and sharing some drinks?

You giggled taking a sip of your cider “just you wait, that was just the opening band!” you leaned into George feeling buzzed, you missed the atmosphere of a show: the bright lights in a blacked out room, being one in the crowd, the smell coming from the fog machines, the loud blaring music, making a connection with the musicians and getting your ‘rock on’ with everyone else in the crowd.

“There's more?” George asked excitedly beaming down at you, you forgot that he wasn’t used to muggle music, bands, gigs, you wouldn’t be surprised if his father studied just the idea of such an experience.

You nodded and stared into his gorgeous deep brown eyes, looking down at George’s empty cup you offered to buy him another (you would need it to get you through the rest of the night at this rate, you didn’t want your buzz to die down) you pushed through the overflowing crowd trying not to bash or elbow anyone too hard, squeezing through you kept muttering out “I’m sorry!” “Just passing through!”

By the time you reached the bar the main act were already powering through their set list, you felt bad for leaving George but you knew he would be enjoying himself either way.

The floor was sticky from the spilled alcohol and your shoes kept sticking down to the floor, you felt like you were in space boots every time you tried to lift up your feet and with the spinning of the room you gripped onto the bar to steady yourself.

“Can I grab two double vodka’s and coke, please” you yelled over the music to the bar man, choosing the first drink that popped into mind, you could feel someone closing in on you, their hot breath and body heat against your back.

“Mind if I pay?” a unfamiliar gruff voice asked.

You slowly stood up straight and took a deep sigh, turning around you were met with the stranger who butted in. He pulled some pound notes out of his pocket and pushed them over towards the bar man.

The man had dark black hair that started to grey at the roots and odd strands here and there, you could tell he must be older than you, greying or not his wrinkles spoke for him.

He towered over you and smiled “both for you?”

You shook your head and answered him quickly, hoping the bar man would hurry up or the man would get distracted “No, me and my boyfriend” you lied, although you and George were best friends you had slept together plenty of times and it often felt as if you were dating - but you had never brought it up, you both liked everything how it was.

The man chuckled and moved closer to you, the bar man placed the drinks next your arm on the side “is that so?” he asked, thinking you were lying to get away from him. He nodded and pursed his lips “playing hard to get, I like it” he pushed a stray hair behind your ear, stroking your cheek with his thumb “has anyone ever told you how sexy you are?” he blurted out, unashamed.

You couldn’t believe your ears, you couldn’t believe the cheek of this man, you cowered at his touch.

“Has anyone ever told you to piss off?” you heard George shout over the music, standing next you, staring down the man.

You thanked whichever lords above that George decided to come and search for you. “Who the fuck are you?” the man laughed at your best friend, moving away from you.

George pulled you into him, his hand sneaking around your waist, you didn’t want any trouble but you knew George wouldn’t shy away from confrontation if it was about something serious.

“I’m her boyfriend, now bugger off before you get my foot up your arse” George threatened him, his grip on your waist tightening.

The man sported a furious look upon his sweaty wrinkled face “you wanna fucking go mate?” he yelled at George pointing a finger at him “all this over some slag?” he insulted you.

You and George, now both just as furious went red in the face. You spotted your drinks on the side and without thinking, breaking from George’s grip you picked up your drinks and threw them in his face, causing George to let out a shocked but surprising laugh.

The two of you ran as fast as your legs could carry you past the overflowing crowd, hearing complaints and insults follow you. Breaking free into the dark night, the cold air engulfed you, waking you up slightly from your drunken daze.

Holding out your hand spotting a black cab the two of you hopped in and went back to your parents place.

George apologised continuously on the way home, feeling like he was the one who ruined your evening, but if anything he made it so much better than what it could’ve turned out to be.

“I just can’t believe that arsehole called you such a thing and put a hand on you!” He whispered sternly, entering the kitchen, he walked over to the stairs and stopped before walking up them. “Are you okay?”

“It’s okay Georgie, really.” You whispered back, you pushed past him, grabbing his hand and leading him up the stairs quietly, trying not to wake anyone up “I’m fine”

You both entered your large bedroom, the pine green walls covered in pictures of you and George and posters of the band you saw tonight, little round orange fairy lights dangling from your curtain rail. Your bed in the middle of the room against the wall, waiting for you and George.

So messed up, I want you here In my room, I want you here Now we're gonna be face-to-face And I'll lay right down in my favourite place

“I can’t stand it when men think they can touch you like that, it makes my skin crawl.” George muttered, starting to calm down upon entering your room, he shut the door slowly and quietly behind him.

“Only you can touch me like that” you whispered in his ear, nibbling at his lobe gently.

George let out a shaky moan, your sudden advance caused his breath to get stuck in his throat for a moment.

“You’d be furious if I ended up going home with him and I was planning to if you didn’t come and get me” you teased him “he told me I was sexy.”

George glared and grabbed you by the throat, you always loved making him jealous, especially in the bedroom.

He walked you over to the bed, George pushed you down on it, his hand gripped around your throat causing you to feel slightly light headed. His possessiveness and jealousy that caused these outbursts in his behaviour turned you on more than anyone ever could.

He removed his hand from your throat, causing you to breathe out in desperation for air, whilst allowing the incredible rush to flow through your head, the tingling and spinning sensations exciting you even more.

“Is that what you want? another man fucking you?” George questioned, yanking at the silver zip on your black faux leather mini skirt and pulling them down your legs, his hand moved up in between your inner thighs “no one can make you cum like I can” he growled, slapping your clit through your underwear before yanking those off too “you dirty girl.”

And now I want to be your dog Now I want to be your dog Now I want to be your dog Well, come on

You moaned staring down at the gorgeous lad now in between your legs, teasing you with his tongue, his hot breath warming you up and his silky saliva coating your clitoral hood and running down in between your folds.

George stroked you gently with his long fingers, spreading his saliva equally around your heat, causing you to moan out in pleasure “not too loud you plonker, your parents are two doors down” he told you off before suddenly plunging two fingers inside of you, switching between fingering you and repeating the ‘come here’ motion with his fingers to try and make you squirt whilst taking turns eating your cunt and sucking your clit.

George was doing this on purpose, pleasuring you beyond belief when you were forced to keep quiet. You pulled his long hair and your back arched, he could feel your walls tightening around his fingers and he knew you were getting close so he withdrew his coated fingers and pulled himself away, his lips red and wet from his hard work.

You pouted and let out a whine, ”George that isn’t fair” you tried to crawl over to George and help him take off his belt but he refused and slapped you away.

“you’ll touch me when you’re told to.”

George took off his shirt, his belt and removed his trousers, then taking off his boxers his erection slapped against his lower stomach. Your mouth filling up with saliva, if you were to open your gob your drool would turn to laces. You removed your perfume drenched band shirt and dropped it on the carpet, George’s hungry, lustful gaze turned to you, he crawled on top of you, kissing up your body.

“Turn over” he growled “get on all fours.”

Doing as you were told you could hear George spitting into his hand as he rubbed his saliva against your entrance, using his hard cock to stroke up against it before entering you. You gasped out in shock, squeezing your eyes shut to adjust to his size, George grabbed you by the hair, parting them into pony tails to use as his handlebars.

“Only I can make you feel this good” he growled lowly in your ear “tell me!” he demanded.

With George grabbing your hair and pulling you back at such an angle it was hard for you to utter a word, you were only just managing to breathe. Thinking you were ignoring him, George spanked your arse with rage, causing you to squeal out in pain loudly, feeling the sting and heat he smiled at his handprint quickly appearing on your now sore arse cheek.

“Keep it down!” he hissed at you, pounding you even harder.

Your lips were turning blood red from the biting to hold in your moans. George suddenly stopped and flipped you over, leaning over you and kissing you, tasting yourself on his lips turned him on all the more. George grabbed your smooth legs and placed them over his shoulders, pushing himself even deeper inside you as he pulled you closer to him causing the two of you to moan out.

George grabbed your throat again and held a firm grip over your artery restricting your blood flow, “dirty fucking slut” he grunted, fucking you fast, deep and hard.

You looked into his lustful eyes, desperate for air, your eyes tearing up and your face going red, knowing you’d get him closer you tried to mutter “please...George..” but it proved to be too difficult against his grip.

Now I'm ready to close my eyes And now I'm ready to close my mind And now I'm ready to feel your hand And lose my heart on the burning sands

Beads of sweat dripped down his soft head, his hair sticking to him, panting rapidly he lulled his head back giving it his all before letting go of your throat, smashing his soft lips against yours he spilled himself inside of you, filling you with his warm liquid.

The two of you lay next to one another on your comfy, now drenched bed, staring up at the ceiling catching back your breaths. George sat up slowly, still recovering from what felt like the race of his life - a marathon for you - he eyed you up and gently pulled you into a cuddle. “Are you okay?” he asked “you aren’t hurt are you?” he looked at your neck, worried he left any marks or caused damage.

And now I want to be your dog And now I wanna be your dog Now I want to be your dog Well, come on

You shook your head and smiled at him coming down from your high “I’m all good but my arse hurts” you laughed softly, laying in his arms “one hell of a slap you gave it”

George went red and apologised but you shushed him and giggled, letting out a yawn you pulled the covers over the two of you and you put your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Tonight was incredible” you said sleepily “thank you for everything, George.”

He smiled and his heart warmed at the sight of you cuddling into him, he held your hand and kissed your head softly “I love you” he hummed, closing his eyes.

“I love you too” you replied, copying him, drifting off to sleep.

#george weasley #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #fanfic #fan fiction #HP #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #imagines #oneshot #oneshots #weasley x reader #weasley x you #smut #spicy fic #fred weasley

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machine-gun-casie · 4 years

Text

Co-Stars

request: Hey cutie! I love your writing and i was wondering if you could write a Pete imagine where he and the reader are in a movie together where they play a couple and he falls in love with her. Pretty please! ♡♡

wc: 2.6k

a/n: i made her the love interest for the king of staten island cuz i just watched the movie and its so good!! but dw no spoilers

You walked onto set with your iced coffee in hand and your earbuds blasting music in your ears. The set for this movie was probably the most fun and relaxing set you’ve ever been on. Except when Marisa Tomei or Steve Buscemi was there. It was only intimidating to you because of how new you were to the acting scene and how iconic they were.

But you had almost no scenes with them, all of your scenes were with Pete for the most part. Technically, you didn’t even need to come on set today. You just couldn’t stop yourself.

“Hey!” Maude called out to you when she saw you, motioning for you to come over. “Didn’t think you were needed on set today.”

“Oh, I’m not.” You replied and shrugged. “But I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Really?” Maude raised her eyebrows at you. “You’re staying in New York City and you took the free ferry ride to Staten Island? Because you had nothing to do. In New York fucking City?!”

You furrowed your eyes and looked up in thought. “Well, when you phrase it like that…”

“y/n, it’s gonna sound weird no matter how I phrase it.” Maude chuckled.

You shoved her shoulder lightly and laughed with her as you explained. “I have no friends here, I have no one to hangout with.”

“Mhm, okay.” Maude teased you. “So we’re gonna pretend this isn’t about you-”

“Shut the fuck up Maude.” You hissed. “Shut up or I’ll tell your dad.”

“Tell her dad what?” Judd asked from behind you. You jumped slightly as you turned to face him as Maude snickered next to you. “Why’re you on set, y/n? We don’t need you today.”

“Because y/n has a crush on Pete.” Maude sang like she was teasing you on the school playground.

“Maude!” You snapped at her. “He could hear!”

Judd laughed and shook his head. “Don’t worry, he’s filming.”

“In the firehouse?” You asked and your eyes lit up when Judd nodded. “Thanks Judd!” You yelled as you ran off to the front doors of the firehouse.

“They really think they’re hiding it?” He asked his daughter.

“I think so.” She nodded, joining her dad in watching you run up the stairs. “If they’re not together by the time we wrap, I might strangle one of them.”

“Not if I do it first.”

You smiled and waved at the firefighters in the station today. Because the firehouse that was being used was still a functional one, the actors and the firefighters all became pretty well acquainted. You skipped over to the back room where you could hear them filming.

Bill and Pete were sitting at the table in front of the camera. You stood over by the sound guys and just watched them play out the scene.

“What take is this?” You whispered to the closest person to you.

“Fourth.” They replied. “I think we got it, though. Fingers crossed we take fifteen after this.”

You nodded and leaned back to enjoy the show. Your favorite scenes to watch were when Pete and Bill were bickering. It was so clear that they both enjoyed it because they could improvise some jabs at each other. You noticed that Pete absolutely adored including the handlebar moustache during these scenes.

“Cut!” Someone called out. “Everyone take lunch!”

Pete looked around and made eye contact with you when the camera cut, smiling when he saw you. He turned to Bill and said a few parting words before coming up to you.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” He asked, leaning his shoulder against the wall to face you. “You don’t have any scenes today.”

“I don’t.” You nodded. “Came to see you.”

“You just can’t get enough of me, can you?” Pete smirked.

You rolled your eyes and turned slightly. “I’ll fucking leave, Pete.”

“Hey, no no no!” Pete stumbled over his words as he grabbed your arm. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Thank you for coming all the way out here for me. I am very very grateful.”

His hold on your arm slowly slid until he was holding onto your fingers, you curled your fingers into his and held his hand loosely. “You better be.” You scoffed. “Come on, let’s go grab lunch.” You gently pulled on your intertwined hands and led him out of the back room towards the front.

“Where do you wanna go?” Pete asked as his steps fell in tandem with yours.

“You’re the local, you decide.” You looked up at him and swung your conjoined hands lightly in between you. “Surprise me.”

“Oh, so we’re doing romantic type shit now?” Pete laughed, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Romantic type shit is my favorite, you know this.” You giggled, smiling and playing along. This little act you had going on was strange but somehow comforting. You would go on these ‘dates’ that were never called dates. And neither of you would discuss the logistics. But you both knew. And that’s what was comforting. There was no lying or hiding, just collective evading.

“I’ll take you to this place Casey and I would go to when we were kids.” He paused when he opened the door and motioned for you to go first. You walked down the stairs together and started walking along the sidewalk. “The owner knew my dad, so he used to give us free ice cream sometimes.”

“You think we can get some free ice cream today?” You asked, somewhat joking but also. Free ice cream.

“Not sure, but if he sees you we might.” Pete laughed and shook his head. “Last time I took a date there was during junior year. You should’ve seen his face, he was so fucking happy for me.”

“Junior year Pete was getting laid, huh?” You asked teasingly.

“Pfft, he fucking wishes.” He snorted. “Junior year Pete would pass out if he was here in my shoes right now.”

“I bet he would.” You hummed. “This movie is insane.”

“Not what I was talking about.” Pete said with a tight lipped smile on his face. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, looking at him for an answer. He simply looked down at your interlaced hands.

“Oh.” You smiled shyly, warmth blooming in your chest. “I thought the sappy stuff was my department?”

“I can contribute.” He shrugged as he came to a stop at a crosswalk. “It’s that one over there.” He pointed to the classic pizzeria looking joint right across from you.

“Thank god, I’m starving.” You sighed, stomach rumbling at the thought of food of any kind.

You walked in and followed Pete as he led you to the booth in the back corner. You peaked behind you to look through the windows at the front and saw what Pete no doubt took notice of before you. A guy with a camera up to his face was on the sidewalk adjacent to the one you and Pete were walking on. Lovely.

The paps were a problem you weren’t expecting to face in Staten Island, but Pete warned you otherwise. They were a hindrance on set, but they were even worse off set. A few times you were followed when you would go to get food on your own or you were heading home for the night. Pete promised you to always accompany you whenever he could after that, not wanting you to deal with the paps alone.

Cozying up in the corner booth, you were almost sure they couldn’t see you from outside. You let out a sigh of relief and leaned back, letting your shoes bump into Pete’s. “So, what’s good here?”

“They’ve got this eggplant tower thing that barely tastes like eggplants. It’s crazy good.” Pete told you, hands going up to show you how big it would be. “Should be good for both of us.”

“Great, we’ll take that then.” You smiled and nodded, glad to not have the anxiety of looking over a menu for the first time and take forever to read through it only to end up with a cheese pizza or something basic like that.

After flagging down a waiter in the semi busy restaurant and ordering the food, Pete dropped his arms onto the table and looked over at you. “Maude give you shit today?”

“I think she writes it down in her schedule.” You replied and laughed. “I think she means well, though.”

“She’s like my real little sister now.” Pete nodded as he spread open his palm next to your hand on the table. “Her and Casey have joined forces.”

Lifting your hand gently, you traced the lines on his palms with your fingers. “How is Casey? She excited to shoot next week?”

“Yeah, yeah. She’s a little nervous.” Pete replied as he held your hand in his, trapping your tracing fingers in between his. “She’s going back and forth on whether she wants to come or not.”

“No, she should come!” You said, whining at the thought of losing that scene in the movie. “She’s gonna be great. Did you tell her that she’s my favorite character in the movie?”

Sighing, Pete rolled his eyes and nodded. “I did and she won’t shut up about it.”

Lunch included lots of jokes and laughter, with your hand in his the whole time. Neither of you said anything about the hands, or the fact that you trapped one of his legs in between yours under the table. No lying or hiding, just collective evading.

Both of you only managed to eat half of the truly gigantic eggplant tower, so you decided to have it packed up for later. You called over a waiter, a different one this time who seemed to be a teenager by the looks of it, who clearly recognized you or at least Pete. They quickly nodded and smiled, taking the plate of food from your table and the empty glasses. You saw them skitter off and whisper to one of their colleagues along the way, no doubt telling them that you were here.

“I think we’ve been caught.” You whispered to Pete. He looked over to where you were facing and sighed.

“I think we have.” Pete chuckled. “Watch, Andy’s gonna come out any minute now.”

Exactly as Pete predicted, a tall man with a huge grin on his face came out from the back. He marched over to your table with open arms. “Peter! It’s been so long, young man!”

Pete stood up and gave the man a hug. “Hey Andy, how are you?”

Andy pulled away and gave Pete a heavy pat on the shoulder. “I ain’t any younger pal, I can tell you that.” He said with the heaviest New York accent you’ve ever heard. He sneaked a few glances at you as he spoke, clearly curious. “Who’s your friend, Peter?”

Pete’s cheeks grew a little red as he cleared his throat. “Andy, this is y/n. She’s my co-star in this movie we’re shooting.”

“Co-star? Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?” Andy mumbled as he turned to look at you as you stood up to face him. “Is he treating you good?”

You laughed and nodded. “Of course he is, Pete’s a great guy. You should know, Pete says you’ve known each other since he was a kid.”

“I have, I have. Used to give him free ice cream. I bet he didn’t tell you that.” Andy pointed at Pete accusingly.

“He did, actually.” You hummed.

“Good, ‘cause you’re getting some today too.” Andy nodded before turning to face the kitchen. “Sammy! Get me two ice cream cones, mixed!”

“No, that’s alright-” You started before Andy interrupted you.

“It’s my treat, kid.” Andy said with a kind smile. “For Pete and his co-star.”

With your ice cream cones and bag of leftover food in hand, you and Pete said your goodbyes to Andy as you left the restaurant. You kept close to Pete as you walked down the sidewalk, the same pap from earlier could be seen in the corner of your eye. But he didn’t seem to be following you, so you calmed down slightly.

“Holy shit!” You gasped when it hit you, eyes wide. “We’re late! I didn’t even feel the time.”

Pete glanced at his watch and saw that it had been way more than fifteen minutes. You had been off set for almost forty minutes at this point. He looked at you and you both paused for a second before bursting into laughter. He shrugged with a frown. “Oh well.”

You continued your stroll in a comfortable silence as you both finished your ice cream. You spotted a little playground hidden behind a few trees as you popped the last bit of the crunchy cone in your mouth. “Look Pete, swings.” You pointed.

“You wanna go on the swings?” He asked and you nodded. “You’re not worried about Judd on set?”

“What set?” You asked with faux confusion. “I wasn’t called on set today.” Pete laughed as he let you pull him towards the swings.

Neither of you were swinging really, your younger self would have been disappointed at your lack of enthusiasm. You were both just swaying next to each other, holding the two chains in between you to keep yourself from swaying too far away.

“Isn’t it weird how normal people don’t have to make things official?” Pete asked all of a sudden. “With relationships, I mean. If they figure that shit out with each other, that’s it. They don’t need to post something stupid on Instagram or whatever.”

“I guess, yeah.” You nodded. “But who do you consider to be not normal?”

“Us.” He said, eyes downcast at the bag of food he put on the ground between the swings.

You paused to articulate your thoughts. “We don’t have to do anything if we don’t want to. Fuck Instagram. We are normal people.”

Pete laughed at your tone, defensive but not against him. “We are.”

This time you looked down at the ground and avoided Pete’s gaze. “Is this… Is this about us? You and me?”

Pete didn’t answer. His silence on this topic has never scared you until now. Was he thinking of being serious with you? Or the opposite? Was this his messed up way of letting you down slowly? The collective evading was no longer comforting but frightening. Was he just playing around with your feelings while you thought it was a slow start to something you didn’t know you wanted?

“I think I’m in love with you.”

With wide eyes you looked back up at Pete, seeing the anxiousness in his eyes. “What?” You asked softly.

“I-I wasn’t sure, but then I was talking to-” You cut him off with a kiss, pulling his swing closer to yours and placing a hand on his cheek. He moaned lightly into the kiss and placed his hand on your waist, turning your swing to face him properly.

You pulled away slowly and sighed. “I think I’m in love with you, too.”

That was your first kiss with Pete. The thought made you laugh. “What’s funny?” He asked.

“That was our first kiss.” You said and he nodded. “So you’re saying that you fell in love with me before we even kissed?”

“Yes?” Pete furrowed his eyebrows. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily, no.” You shook your head. “But what if I was a bad kisser?”

Pete clicked his tongue and pulled away with a laugh. “You’re not a bad kisser.”

“But what if I was?” You retorted, giggling. “Would you still love me if I was a bad kisser?”

“First of all, yes.” Pete pointed out. “Second, you wouldn’t be a bad kisser.”

“But what if I was?” You repeated.

“We would have lots and lots of practice.”

#pete davidson #pete davidson fanfic #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson fluff #pete davidson fanfiction #pete davidson imagine #the king of staten island

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makoodlesarchive · 4 years

Text

you wear them well

you know what this is, my friends? pure indulgence. 7.1k words of total, pure indulgence. enjoy xx

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader word count: 7.1k warnings: NSFW, unsafe sex, panty theft, bakugou in panties tag list: @allywritesimagines @tobiodel-ay-ee-hoo

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»»————-　♡　————-««

You’re in somewhat of an embarrassing predicament.

The boxer briefs lie on your bed, looking painfully innocuous. There are at least eight pairs. You have no idea where they’ve come from.

Well, that’s not entirely true. You know that you picked them up accidentally in the laundry room when you were collecting your own load of clean laundry, and brought them back to your dorm only to finally notice them when you were putting your stuff away. The problem is, you don’t know whose they are.

Whoever owns the underwear must have taken yours by mistake -- the boxers had been in a generic mesh laundry bag that was the exact same as yours, so it’s easy to see how the mix up had happened. Still though. You’re in an awkward situation. Because your bag had contained all of your fanciest, most delicate underwear, and you’re mortified at the thought of whoever owns these boxers opening the bag up to find all that lace and silk. All that fancy underwear had cost so much money though, and you really wanted them back. How the hell were you supposed to find whoever had them now?

Your dilemma preoccupies your thoughts for the rest of the day. It’s all you can think about as you lie in bed trying to go to sleep.

By the time the next morning rolls around, you resign yourself to just having to ask the guys in the dorm if they may have taken your underwear by accident. You try to work yourself up to it when everyone is clamouring over breakfast, feeling like you might be able to play it off casually enough that it’s not a big deal. But everyone is yelling and laughing and super hyper despite the early hour, and you chicken out. Maybe over breakfast isn’t the best time to ask, anyway.

During class, you can’t stop your eyes roving over the guys. None of them look as though they’re preoccupied with the thought of the stolen ladies underwear they procured as of yesterday, but then again, how would you know?

By the end of the day, you’re reasonably certain that you can cross Mineta off your suspect list -- there’s no way the little pervert would ever be able to keep his damn mouth shut if he had found a laundry bag full of fancy panties, and he’s been quiet all day. You cross Kaminari off the list for the same reason, although with a little less certainty. Other than that, you have absolutely no idea. No one had mentioned missing laundry at all today.

That night you lie in bed and frown at the ceiling. This was ridiculous. You wanted your fancy panties back now! Besides, you had accidentally taken eight pairs of boxers from someone. The Calvin Klein waistband told you that they weren’t cheap, either. Surely they needed those back by now?

The next morning, you’re antsy. You know that your classmates have noticed by the concerned looks that Uraraka keeps shooting you, but you just can’t get your mind off the underwear situation. The day passes in much the same way as the one before it had; not a mention of underwear to be had anywhere. You’re starting to get annoyed. You plan to mention the situation to the girls the morning after, but end up chickening out when the time comes. You can’t help but overthink everything; it’s been three days since the underwear mix-up, which is surely too long for you to have waited to tell anyone. Why didn’t you just tell them when it had first happened? You could kick yourself.

Nearly a week passes like this. For a few days, at least, schoolwork is the priority in your head. It’s nice while it lasts, to not have your every waking moment filled with thoughts of your missing panties. Unfortunately, as soon as the weekend hits and you find yourself with free time on your hands, those thoughts come back with a vengeance. It’s literally driving you insane, so you do what you always do when you’re frustrated since you started in UA -- you head to the training room to work out your frustrations.

It’s a Saturday evening, so you’re not alone in the training room, which is to be expected. Kirishima and Bakugou are having what looks like a sit up competition by the mats, and Midoriya and Uraraka are spotting each other by the bench press machine. Usually in the evenings the training room would be a little busier, but you guess everyone else is taking the opportunity to rest and relax. You wish you could do that yourself, but you desperately need to expel all of your frustrated energy before you can even think about trying to unwind. Uraraka gives you a wave and a smile, but seems to understand that you’re hoping to be left alone as you make a beeline for the treadmill. You smile back as you pop your earphones in and set up your workout playlist, before setting the treadmill to your ideal settings.

The run you set off on is a little harder and faster than what you would usually do, but your main aim is to tire yourself out. You lose yourself to the steady rhythm of your feet pounding against the rapidly moving surface of the treadmill. You completely lose track of time as your breaths start to come faster and your chest starts to heave with exertion.

After an indeterminable amount of time, a shrieking laugh sounds over the sound of the upbeat music blaring in your ears, cutting through the hazy focus that’s settled over your mind. You look up to see that Bakugou has Kirishima in a headlock and appears to be swearing loudly and rapidly at him. Despite the fact that his face is rapidly turning red from the arm wrapped around his throat, Kirishima is still giggling. A quick glance around shows that Midoriya and Uraraka have disappeared, and you wonder how long you’ve been running for.

Kirishima is saying something, but his words are drowned out by your music. Whatever he’s said seems to appease Bakugou to some extent, because he reluctantly lets him go. As soon as he’s free of his friend’s grip, Kirishima bounces backwards and throws his hands up in the air in a conciliatory gesture, though his grin is still wickedly mischievous. You watch his mouth move again as he speaks, but this time his eyes cut towards you.

You blink in surprise, and turn the treadmill off as you remove one of your earbuds. “What’s up?” you ask curiously. As the treadmill slows to a stop and you step off, the fatigue catches up to you and your legs go a little wobbly. You grab a hold of the handlebars of the machine and hope they didn’t notice.

Kirishima looks like he’s still smothering back laughs, and Bakugou has gone a curious shade of red -- you guess he must be close to an imminent explosion. Kirishima is really poking at a bear, here. He seems to know that though, because his next move is to shrug exaggeratedly and say, “Oh, nothing! I’m gonna head out, I’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

“Uh,” you return his wave as he heads out the door, a little bewildered by the jaunty bounce in his step, “Bye, Kirishima.”

Bakugou just grunts and turns back to the weights he was lifting. Your eyes linger on him for a moment, partly because you’re trying to work out that interaction and partly because when he squats with the barbell over his head his back muscles flex and ripple in a way that’s damn near mesmerising. You’ve harboured an embarrassing crush on him ever since your very first year in UA, and every time you think you’re over it you see him sweaty and perfect and you’re proven very, very wrong. Bakugou is obnoxiously attractive, a realisation that feels like a punch in the head every goddamn time you see him.

You should definitely just go, because you’re tired now and there’s no reason for you to stay. But your movements are stupidly slow as you gather up your things and watch Bakugou out of the corner of your eye. You wonder if you should say hi or something to him, but he seems pretty focused on his workout and you figure that you’ll just annoy him. Bakugou’s got a better hold on his temper than he had back in first year, but it’s probably better to just leave it.

Bakugou squats low, weight lifted high over his head. Your gaze trails over his biceps, his muscled shoulders, his thick thighs. His ass. Damn.

You look away, cursing yourself for being a pervert. Then you pause. Your eyes slowly trail back to him. It takes several long seconds of staring before you realise that you’re really not imagining it.

Bakugou’s sweatpants have pulled tight over his round ass as he sinks down further into his squat, and his waistband has been pulled down. Not much, only a little, but enough to see the waistband of his underwear poking out.

Except they aren’t his underwear. They’re yours.

You’d recognise that lace anywhere -- you had bought that pair a few months ago, when you were having a bad day and just wanted to feel pretty. They were your favourite! The front was all white silk embroidered with delicate blue cornflowers, turning to elaborate lace over the hips and the back. And now Bakugou was wearing them.

Bakugou was wearing your favourite panties.

You turn away quickly, staring stupidly into space as your mind struggles to work through this particular revelation. The underwear you had taken belonged to Bakugou. Bakugou had accidentally taken yours. Bakugou is currently wearing yours. What the fuck? What are you supposed to do now? You bite your lip hard as you think. You could leave now, pretend you didn’t see anything, and then ask Bakugou as casually as possible tomorrow whether your underwear had gotten mixed up with his in the laundry. That would surely be the best way to avoid a scene.

But then again… your gaze drifts back to Bakugou. He’s already hitched his sweatpants back into place; he must be paranoid of being caught wearing panties, but for some reason that hasn’t stopped him from wearing them to workout.

Your mouth has apparently made its mind up before your brain has, because you’re calling out “Bakugou?” before you can even finish the thought.

“What?” he grunts without turning around. He’s finished with his weights for now, apparently, and is studiously putting them back where they belong. You drop your stuff back on the ground, phone clattering loudly, and begin to approach him. He doesn’t seem to notice until you’re right beside him, and then he pauses in what he’s doing and squints at you suspiciously. “What d’you want?”

“I have a question.” you say stupidly. He looks so good this close, and the knowledge that he’s wearing your underwear is making you feel… oddly warm.

“A question.” Bakugou repeats, standing tall and rolling his shoulders. His tone makes it clear that he’s humouring you, though he looks a little amused. “Alright, ask.”

The problem is, now that you’ve been given permission to speak, you can’t think of what to say. You bite your lip hard, and your gaze moves slowly over his chest and shoulders as you think. Bakugou is surprisingly patient, and stays quiet despite his shifting feet, which reveal his restlessness. Your eyes land on his bicep, and once again your mouth moves without conscious thought. “Can I touch you?”

“Hah?” Bakugou’s exclamation is jarringly loud in the quiet that had fallen over the two of you. “What the fuck kinda question is that?”

Now would be the ideal time to backtrack to save yourself from total humiliation, but instead you blurt “Please?” even as you feel your face flush hard.

He’s staring at you in mild disbelief, but it’s slowly being taken over by something else. “You wanna… touch me.” he repeats, his own gaze mimicking yours as it begins to rove over your body. Whatever he sees has him raising an eyebrow -- you can’t work out whether it’s a positive reaction or not. “Alright. Go ahead.”

Your hand twitches. Your instinct is to reach straight for his sweatpants, but you don’t want to scare him off. Instead you do what you’ve been wanting to do for ages anyway, and run your hand over his chest. His pectoral muscles are stupidly big, and you can’t help but be absolutely enraptured by them. He’s wearing a baggy tank top with long cut outs at the arms, and when you run your hands over his chest the tank top shifts to reveal one of his nipples.

You look away quickly, worried that you’ll do something stupid and make him mad at you, but when you look up at him you see that he’s watching you. His eyes are so intense that it feels like his gaze alone is about to light you on fire. He doesn’t look mad at all.

‘Fuck it’, you think, and reach up to run your thumb over the soft pink skin of his nipple. It pebbles under your touch, and his body jerks.

“Oi, where the fuck do you think you’re touching?” he snaps at you. His voice is as harsh as ever, but you don’t miss the way he leans into your hand.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” you say. Your voice is a little breathier than you expected, and you see Bakugou’s eyes narrow when he notices too.

“You gettin’ off on this, you little pervert?” he growls, and you gasp a little as his hand lands right on your ass. He pulls you into him, and your hips meet his. You can feel his hardness through his sweatpants, and you lick your lips as your thumb circles his nipple.

“Bakugou,” you say softly, and watch enraptured as he leans down closer to your face, “How can you call me a pervert when you’re the one wearing ladies’ underwear?”

Bakugou freezes inches from your lips. You watch his throat bob as he swallows. “What,” he says, voice rough and frighteningly quiet, “did you just fuckin’ say?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t recognise my own panties?” your voice is nearly a whisper, but in the end it doesn’t matter how softly you say it because Bakugou is already pulling back, a blank look settling over his face.

“What the fuck are you trying to say, huh?” His lips pull up in a snarl, but his cheeks are flushing red and you realise that you’re going to have to be very careful about how you approach this.

Your hand is still resting on his chest, and you allow it to trace carefully down to his stomach, coming to a stop at his navel. “I bet you look real good in them.” That’s not really what you had been planning to say, but you’ve said it now and you meant it, so what can you do? Throwing caution to the wind, you continue with, “Can I see?”

Bakugou is breathing hard through his nose, and his gaze flickers from your face to the door of the training room. When your gaze drops, you see that his hands are clenched into fists at his side. Suddenly worried that you’ve misread the situation, you hurry to say “Ah, if it makes you uncomfortable, we can forget about this. You don’t have to-” you break off as Bakugou shoves past you and makes a beeline for the door. “Oh.”

Oh god. You totally overstepped his boundaries. You turn away, mortified and unable to watch him actually leave. Shit. How were you ever going to look at him again?

“Oi. Come the fuck over here.”

You startle as you turn around; you thought he had left. “What?” you say stupidly.

Bakugou scowls at you. He looks… a little constipated, honestly, as though he has to force the words out. “Come. Over. Here.” He over enunciates the words, his lips pulling up enough that you can see the pink of his gums even from this distance.

Your eyes dart from Bakugou to the door, confused, before it clicks. He was locking the door. “Oh.” you breathe at the realisation, “Okay.” you move over to him quickly, then chew on your lip as you watch him expectantly.

He stares back at you, nostrils flared, and you realise that he doesn’t know how to proceed. Does he need instructions? You have to bite down hard on your bottom lip to stifle your nervous giggles, because you’re pretty certain that they won’t be very well received. He just needs a little guidance. “Take off your shirt.” You coach, reaching out to pull at the hem of his tank top.

“Hah? Don’t tell me what to fuckin’ do.” he snaps, even as he tugs the shirt over his head and lets it drop to the floor. The muscles of his chest are mouth-wateringly perfect, and your hands gravitate to his pecs almost mindlessly. You keep expecting him to snarl or snap at you, but he’s being… almost suspiciously quiet. Your eyes dart continuously up to his face, searching for any sign that this has gone too far, but he just stares back at you with that intimidatingly intense gaze. Your hands trail delicately down his stomach, over his bellybutton, until your fingers are brushing against a fuzzy blond happy trail. You pause and glance up to his face again, but this time you’re met with a scowl. “Where’s all your fuckin’ confidence from a few minutes ago, huh? You think I’m gonna break if you touch me?”

You’re not an idiot; for all of Bakugou’s harshness and his brash attitude, he wasn’t very good at hiding his nervousness. You smile at him, but don’t move your hands to where he obviously wants them. “Maybe I don’t want to touch you until you take your pants off.”

Bakugou’s nostrils flare and his jaw clenches, and it looks for a moment like he’s about to start yelling. Instead though, he steps back and shucks his sweatpants so quickly he nearly overbalances. The glare he shoots you lets you know that he will probably try to kill you if you laugh at his eagerness, but laughing is the furthest thing from your mind as you take in the sight of him.

“Oh, shit.” you breathe. You thought that you were prepared for how he’d look, but you were so, so wrong.

“If you fuckin’ dare to laugh-”

You hush him reflexively, barely aware of what you’re doing. “Just let me look.”

Bakugou is built like a Greek god, and even on his worst days he looks like a professional model. But right now? Covered in a thin layer of sweat from his workout, smelling like burnt sugar, his cheeks flushed red from insecurity and his grey sweatpants pooling around his ankles? He’s never looked more attractive. And that’s not even taking into account the panties. They’re hitched high on his hips, the pale lace laying stark against his tanned muscles. The white satin and little blue embroidered flowers look so dainty, incongruous with the hard cock that’s straining so hard against the fabric that the elastic waistband is pulling away from his skin. They fit a little strangely, because the two of you are definitely not the same underwear size, but the fact that he was apparently so determined to wear them under his clothes despite the ill fit just makes it so much hotter.

“Will you stop fucking staring-” he cuts himself off abruptly, because you’ve just fallen to your knees in front of him, still staring at the sight of his reddened cock leaking all over your pretty satin panties.

“Hush.” you say, and grin up at the furious scowl growing on his face, “I’m enjoying the view.” Before he starts mouthing off again, you reach out and drag your finger slowly along the length of his cock through the silky material of the panties. He makes a noise that sounds like it’s been punched out of him, and his cock visibly twitches at your touch. You stroke your hand down the front of the panties, relishing the feel of his hardness through the soft material. There’s a wet patch right at the top of his cock where he must have been leaking precum, and you can feel yourself cream in your own panties a little bit.

“You gonna just look, or are you gonna do something about it?” Bakugou snarls, as if that will distract you from the way his hips just humped into the air looking for some kind of friction.

“I want to suck you off.” you admit, nosing your face along the bulge distending the front of the panties.

“Yes.” Bakugou says. His voice is a little strained, but his hand is firm as it grips the back of your neck and tries to pull you closer.

“But first,” you place your hands firmly on his thighs to stop him from pulling your face straight into his dick, but then you have to fight not to get totally distracted because shit, did he shave for this? “I have a question.”

“Hah?” the pure irritation in his voice is practically palpable, but he stops pushing at your head. “What do you fuckin-”

“Is this the first time you’ve done this?” you ask, fingers dancing over the shape of his cock and drawing featherlight shapes over him, “Or have you been wearing my panties every day since you found them?”

“I didn’t know they were yours.” he snaps at you as he presses his hips forward into your hand, trying to force you to increase the pressure. Your face lights up at that, because that was basically just a confession that he in fact had been wearing your panties, and he seems to realise it because his face flushes and he starts snarling again. “What kind of fucking dumbass leaves their underwear behind like that anyway, huh? It’s not like it’s my fault my underwear bag was fucking taken, and your stupid bag was the only thing left. You literally took all my underwear, you asshole, what else was I supposed to wear-”

He’s still making excuses as though he thinks you mind, or like he thinks that you’re going to make fun of him. “Bakugou,” you say quietly, slipping his cock out of the confines of the panties, “It’s fine. You look better in them than I do.”

That, at least, seems to silence him temporarily. Or maybe it’s your hands on his dick, and the way that you’re mouthing along the bottom of it. His breaths are coming in little puffs, and you would never have believed that Bakugou Katsuki could be cute if you hadn’t seen him like this. Well, maybe cute is the wrong word. It doesn’t quite encompass the outright sexiness of his half-lidded eyes, his tensed stomach muscles, the way his balls poke out from behind the lace. He’s getting impatient though, you can tell by the aggrieved sighs he’s letting out above you. You decide to be kind and to put him out of his misery, so you lick a stripe from root to tip and then take him into your mouth and give two gentle sucks.

Bakugou makes another one of those punched out sounds, his hips rocking a little further into your mouth. If your mouth wasn’t full, you would have smiled at his reaction. But then his hand comes down and lands in your hair, and he’s pushing his dick further into your mouth with a groan. His cock hits the back of your throat and you just about manage to swallow back a gag, but then you pull back, chest heaving, and scowl at him. “Hey, no pulling my hair. You’ll get it all tangled, and I am not in the mood to deal with that.”

The little shit has the nerve to laugh at that. “Who the fuck cares about a few tangles?”

Your scowl turns into a glare, and you pull back even further away from his dick, which is standing extremely hard and shiny from your spit. “That’s easy for you to say, you don’t have to untangle -!”

“Fine, fine, fine!” Bakugou snaps quickly, apparently realising that you’re actually going to stop if he doesn’t start listening. He removes his hand from your hair and awkwardly tries to pat it back into place, before giving up and settling it at the back of your neck instead. “Better?”

You hum noncommittally as you take him into your mouth again, but honestly, the weight of his guiding hand against the nape of your neck feels real good. You bob your head and take him to the back of your throat, then pull back before you gag, laving your tongue along the underside of his dick. You suckle at the tip like it’s a lollipop, and look up to watch him throw his head back and groan. You breathe hard through your nose as his hand guides you back down on his cock, until it’s pressing into the back of your throat once more.

Bakugou moans like a goddamn pornstar everytime you suck on him, and it has your thighs clenching together hard. You can feel your own panties getting progressively wetter and stickier as you rock your own hips into thin air and moan a little around Bakugou’s length. Seriously, you don’t think he even realises what he’s doing -- his eyes are closed and his head is tipped back as he ruts into your mouth, panting and groaning and utterly unaware of how fucking hot he looks right now. You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, and you can’t stop the whimper that bubbles out of your throat as you slip your hand into your own sweatpants to rub at yourself, desperate for some kind of relief.

“What are you doing?” Bakugou’s voice sounds like he’s been gargling gravel -- it’s gone sinfully deep, and the sound of it shoots liquid heat straight to your core.

“Huh?” you say as you pull off his dick, thoughts a little hazy in your arousal. A strand of saliva stretches from your mouth to his cock, but you don’t notice it until it snaps and dribbles down your chin. “What d’you mean?”

You’re not expecting Bakugou to kneel down with you so you’re both facing each other, and it’s even more of a surprise when he sticks his hand down your pants and shoves your own hand aside so that he’s got unrestricted access to your pussy. “Unhh.” you moan out, dropping your head forward against his chest as he runs his fingers experimentally along your slit. You’re so damn horny that even the slightest touch has you rutting your hips forward into his hand, desperate for him to touch you more, harder.

“Shit,” he says, and that gravelly voice and hot breath right in your ear sends a shudder all the way down your body. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, what the fuck? You’re soaked. What got you like this, huh? Was it me in the panties? Or was it sucking my cock?”

You gasp and let out a strangled moan as he finds your clit and begins to rub messy circles around it with his thumb as his middle and ring finger dips inside you. “Bakugou-” you gasp, clenching around his fingers with a choked hiccup as he presses on your clit.

“Why are you so shy all of a sudden?” his voice is taunting, mocking, as though his own cock isn’t flexing and leaking precome all over the panties.

“Both,” you gasp out, humping your pussy into his hand as he alternates between rolling your clit between his fingers and pushing inside you to feel up your internal walls. “It was- it was both.”

“Fuck.” Bakugou hisses, and then he’s tearing his hand out of your pants and pulling at the hem of your joggers. He’s too aggressive at trying to tear them off though, and they get stuck around your knees. You bite your lip as he snarls at them, torn between helping him and laughing at him. You decide on the former, seeing as how laughing at him will probably result in him trying to fight you, and you really just want to get laid, like, now. So you help him out and wiggle out of your pants, kicking them aside and then shucking your own panties and throwing them in the same direction.

Bakugou is staring avidly at the place between your legs, and if you weren’t so turned on you might be embarrassed. As it was, you could barely think straight, so when Bakugou sits back on his ass and spreads his legs, your heart nearly fucking stops and all shame flies out the goddamned window. The panties are pretty much ruined, covered in precum and stretched out of place in the front where his cock has been distending them all day. His balls are too big to be contained by the flimsy silk, and they’re lolling out by his thigh. His cock is reddened with arousal and leaking from where it’s standing straight up on it’s own, the panties shoved down to give it space. His hair is sweat-damp and stuck to his forehead in places, his eyes burning as his own gaze gives you the same stare-down treatment that you’re giving him.

Then he raises his hand, and gestures to his lap. “Hop on.” he says, and you don’t think you’ve ever moved so fast in your life as you scramble up on him.

Once you’re in his lap his hands clamp down on your waist and guide you to grind your bare pussy against his exposed dick. “Ugh, fuck,” you gasp, grabbing his shoulders for balance as the tip of his dick presses against your clit. “Come on, just-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bakugou shrugs off your impatient prompting, grinning into the bare skin of your shoulder where your shirt has slipped. He pulls back when your grinding starts to get desperate and starts to push the panties down.

“No!” you blurt, stilling his hands. He freezes, his eyes searching your face urgently. The flicker of panic in his eyes makes you realise that he thinks you’re trying to stop him from going any further and that he’s trying to figure out what he’s done wrong. You hurry to elaborate, growing hot from embarrassment as you murmur out, “Leave them on.”

His eyes widen, and you swear you can feel his dick pulse against you. “Okay.” he says roughly, his voice strained. He pushes the elastic waistband down and tucks it under his balls, but otherwise leaves them on. “You gonna take a seat or what?”

You laugh a little breathlessly at his attitude, because it seems like some things never change, but shuffle forward and raise yourself up on your knees until you feel the tip of his length brushing against the lips of your pussy. You sigh softly at the feeling, and reach down to steady his dick as you rock your entrance back and forth a few times, nice and slowly.

“Fuck, you’re dripping all over me.” Bakugou grunts, his hips thrusting shallowly in his attempts to coax himself inside of you despite your hand holding him steady.

You have a feeling that he’s exaggerating, but it’s true that you’re ridiculously aroused right now. You dip your hips down and close your eyes at the feeling of the tip of his cock pushing inside you. You had planned to go slow, but before you know it Bakugou’s hands are clamping down on your hips and he’s pulling you down his dick until he’s fully seated inside of you and you’re sat flush against his thighs. You’re gasping at the stretch, the feeling of fullness, barely conscious of the rocking movements of your hips.

Bakugou lets out a long, low moan right in your ear as his hips grind up to match your little movements. “Fuck,” he hisses, his hands so tight on your hips you’re certain they’re leaving bruises, “Fuck, you’re so hot inside, so wet-”

You feel yourself tighten up and clench around him at his words, and the two of you moan at the same time. “Shit.” you breathe, and lift yourself up a few inches so you can drop back down. A few more times, and you’ve established a steady pace of fucking yourself on his cock.

Even as you’re riding him though, you can’t help but look down to admire the view. The panties highlight the way the muscles in his ass ripple when he strains his hips forwards to meet yours. “Fucking hell,” he says suddenly, and you look away from the view to meet his gaze. He’s frowning at you, looking confused even as his forehead creases in pleasure. “Are you still fuckin’ looking at them?”

“Sorry,” you whine, sounding totally pathetic as you grind desperately against him, trying to get his cock to hit just right, “You just look so- so-” you gasp as he hits the spot inside you that has your legs going weak, and you lose track of the thought.

“So what?” Bakugou growls out. He’s obviously clued into the fact that he’s hitting a sweet spot inside you, because his thrusts become so precise that he just about has you squealing on his dick.

“So- so pretty!” you blurt. It’s not the word you had been planning on saying, and judging by the look on Bakugou’s face it’s not the word he had been expecting either.

“What?”

Fuck. Looks like damage control is definitely necessary. “In a manly way! Pretty in a- fuck - in a manly way!” you groan out, internally cursing yourself -- you fucking sound like Kirishima.

“Yeah?” Bakugou asks, and the fucker is laughing at you! “So pretty that you can’t even tear your damn eyes away while I’m fucking you?”

You groan, partly from arousal and partly from embarrassment. “Shut up,” you say, and then his eyes are flashing and he’s surging up. A yelp is driven out of you as you land on your back, Bakugou’s hands slamming down on either side of your head as he looms over you. He’s grinning down at you, sharp and wild as his gaze tracks steadily over your face, chest, and down your body.

For the first time since this has started, you’re self-conscious enough to start getting a little insecure. One arm comes up to cross over your chest as you start to get embarrassed under his wandering eyes. It was intimidating being naked under him when he was pretty much physically flawless, and the sudden fear that he’s disappointed by how you look is crushing. Your other arm goes down to try and block his view of your stomach and pussy, but you’ve barely done so before Bakugou has grabbed both your arms and pulled them away.

“Bakugou-” you start to protest, squirming a little on his dick as he presses your arms over your head and holds them there by your wrists.

“Hush,” he says in a low growl as his eyes track over your squirming body, his hips rocking deeper into you even as he holds you still, “I’m enjoying the view.”

Having your own words repeated back to you in that low, mocking tone seems to really do it for you, because you find yourself moaning helplessly as he kisses and nips his way along your neck and shoulders. “Can you- will you just-” you push your hips mindlessly into his, hoping he’ll get the message and start moving. “Come on, come on-”

“Fuck, you’re desperate, aren’t you?” Bakugou says, grinning at the way you buck into him, “Look at you. You really want to get fucked that bad?”

“Obviously!” you snarl back, wiggling your hips determinedly.

Bakugou actually has the nerve to laugh at that, but it doesn’t last too long before he’s finally pulling out and driving his hips home. “Oh, yeah,” he grunts, thrusting his hips a few times experimentally before settling into a rhythm.

He fucks you hard and fast, and all you can do is gasp against him and clutch at his shoulders. You shouldn’t have expected anything less of him, really. Every time he drives his hips into you knocks the breath right out of you, and you have to shut your eyes tight because it feels so stupidly good. Every time his thighs slap into yours you can feel the lace of the panties rubbing against your skin.

It doesn’t take long to realise that neither of you are going to last -- you were half-way to coming from the first moment you saw his cock straining against the silk of those panties, and having him pounding you into the ground like this is like the fulfillment of every wet dream you’ve had over the three years of knowing him. And judging by the mindless grunts and sloppy snapping of his hips into yours, Bakugou’s just as close.

You lock your ankles behind his back, trying to urge him deeper as you sneak your hand down between you to rub frantically at your clit. Your breathing is interspersed with gasping moans as you feel your stomach tightening, the muscles in your legs beginning to clench up.

Then, just as you’re about to tip over the edge, your hand is knocked aside. “What the fuck!” you complain instantly, scowling at Bakugou.

He scowls back at you, though most of his focus is still going into keeping his rhythm of fucking you. “What are you doing? Am I not- unh- enough for you, huh?”

“Stop being so mouthy and make me come.” you complain, reaching your hand back down. It’s knocked aside yet again, this time to be replaced by Bakugou’s own. His fingers fumble a little at first as he tries to lean his weight on one hand and balance the thrusting of his hips with the rhythm of stroking your clit. “Fuck-” you start to moan, but then his lips descend on yours and he’s kissing you. It’s messy, drool going everywhere in a way that is decidedly not sexy, but you’re apparently so far gone that you couldn’t care less.

“Come.” he mumbles into your mouth, pulling at your lower lips with his teeth before kissing you hard again, “You need to come, you need to come right now-”

You were so close anyway, but the way he’s kissing you combined with him actually telling you to come and the way he’s rutting into you so sloppily and his fingers massaging those hard, fast little circles in your clit has your whole body heaving and locking up. Your back arches and you let out the softest, most breathless little gasp as the build up of your orgasm finally snaps and you come.

You strain against your orgasm so hard that you damn near pull a muscle, chest heaving with the force of your breathing as you try to calm down. Your thoughts are a mess as your muscles start to relax, aching after the way they had tensed up so hard. Your body has barely loosened up after your orgasm before Bakugou is cursing colourfully and pulling out of you, knocking your legs away as his hand grabs at his cock and pumps it viciously fast.

You push up onto your elbows, eyes wide as you watch him fist his cock so hard it looks painful. The sight he makes is absolutely sinful -- his cheeks are flushed red at the highpoints of his cheekbones, his eyes fever-bright as he watches you watching him. His mouth lolls open, his brow scrunched as he fucks his fist, desperately humping into his own grip, panties shoved carelessly down around his thighs.

“You look so gorgeous.” you tell him, your voice hoarse and absolutely wrecked.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bakugou snarls, and then he’s coming, cum erupting in spurts all over his hand and dripping down onto your stomach and still throbbing pussy. He keeps stroking himself all the way through, shuddering hard. His eyes are still open, flicking from your face to the places where his cum is streaking your skin.

You fall back to the floor, exhausted, as though Bakugou’s orgasm had sapped the last of your strength. “That,” you say, with no small amount of satisfaction, “was very nice.”

To your surprise, Bakugou drops down on you and shoves his face into your neck, ignorant (or uncaring) about his weight on top of you. “I knew you were a weird little pervert.” he murmurs into your skin, nipping at the same place.

“Excuse me?” you protest immediately, fruitlessly pushing at his stupidly broad shoulders. “Wait until you’re wearing your own underwear before accusing me of being a pervert, please.”

That makes him snicker, but he still makes no move to get up from where he’s pretty much crushing you. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You want these back?” he plucks at the stretched out waistband of the panties slung around his thighs. Apparently one good fuck was enough to knock all the insecurity about the panties right out of him, because he just looks smug and cocky as he watches your eyes drop down to them.

You scowl in an attempt to hide how flustered the sight of him laying on top of you, spent and sweaty with the dirty panties halfway down his thighs, makes you. “You stretched the front of them all out of shape.” you complain halfheartedly.

“It ain’t my fault I got a fat cock,” he says lazily, snorting a laugh when you turn to glare properly at him. “Whatever, quit moaning. I’ll buy you new ones.”

“Yeah?” you brighten at the thought. Going from thinking all your panties were lost to this point was quite the jump, but you couldn’t say you were disappointed with the result.

“Mm.” he hums, stretching his neck before baring his teeth at you, bending his head to press a kiss to one of your breasts. “Only if you promise to show them off for me.”

“I think I can manage that,” you grin, stomach fluttering pleasantly at the implications that this wasn’t just gonna be a one time thing. “Maybe we should get you your own pair, too, so you won’t have to steal mine.”

He delivers a lazy but stinging smack to your ass for that remark, “Don’t be cute.”

“Can’t help it, it’s my default setting,” you say before flicking your gaze back down his body and grinning at him, “Besides,” you lean in and kiss the lobe of his ear, delighting in the near imperceptible shiver that travels down his spine as you whisper, “You wear them well.”

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mine

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streetlight11 · 3 years

Text

Stay With Me

Summary: She suffered from a trauma after she witnessed the death of her parents at a young age. Luckily, she had a best friend who was there for her ever since that tragic incident. Both of them had feelings for each other deep down but never told anyone. One unfortunate night, when a fresh accident happened right in front of their eyes, her trauma came seeping back in but he was there to comfort her. She could never imagine her life without him.

Theme: College au, childhood friends to lovers

Warning: mentions of accidents, blood, death

Genre: Fluff, sad

WC: 2.6k

Pairing: Ji Changmin x Reader

a/n: just a heads up, the words in italics are flashbacks :)

~12 years ago~

“Mom, dad! Please wake up! Please!” Y/N said, crawling towards her parents who were sprawled on the road with bloody cuts and scabs everywhere on their body.

A bystander called the ambulance while some of them helped carry her parents off to the sidewalk. Not long after, the ambulance came but they didn’t manage to rescue her dad in time. He passed away from the hard impact. Her mom managed to be transferred into the vehicle.

But she didn’t make it halfway through.

She was left all alone as the paramedics comforted her, telling her to breathe. She was only 11. Hence, the reason why she was traumatized by that incident.

It was a bright Wednesday morning, she had just finished getting ready to leave her apartment to head to campus. She wore a simple white shirt tucked into her high waist plaid skirt with a pair of Nike sneakers. She made it to campus with her backpack hanging off one side of her shoulder while she carried a few books in her hand to avoid putting heavy weight in her backpack.

She was just making her way down the hall, her Bluetooth earplugs were in her ears. She was listening to her music when somebody tapped her shoulder. She turned around to see a guy from her Psychology class. If she remembered correctly, his name was Jisung.

“Hey, I think you dropped this.” He said, handing her the keychain from her bag.

She took the charm from him not forgetting to thank him before flashing him a smile. Jisung did the same. Taking slow steps backwards until she finally turned back around to continue walking. He rushed back to his friends, only for them to nudge his side teasingly.

“Dude! She smiled at you! That’s a good start.” Hyunjin said.

“Yeah, try talking to her next time. She’ll definitely talk to you more.” Minho said, making Jisung stare at her descending back.

“Maybe I will…” Jisung thought to himself and soon went off to class.

A few hours later, Y/N was just leaving school when a familiar jock from the soccer team stops dead in her tracks, making her halt in her tracks.

“Hey, I have free tickets to see the new movie this weekend. Wanna go together?” Juyeon asked.

“I already made plans. Sorry.” She rejected him nicely before proceeding to walk around him to leave. She was just making her way to her car when someone blocked her door by holding it down. She looked up, ready to curse whoever it was but her words got stuck when she met the eyes of her best friend.

“I was this close to cursing your ass, Changmin.” Y/N said scrunching her nose. She made a pinching gesture with her fingers to show him she was running out of patience.

Changmin laughed when he leaned against her driver seat door, only to look down at her with a wide smile. “Are you free this weekend?” He asked.

“Mm, probably.”

“But you just told Juyeon you had plans.” Changmin began to smirk.

“You know I give white lies to those guys who try to take me on dates.”

“But you don’t turn me down when I ask you out?”

“That’s because you’re my best friend.”

“Ouch, am I being friend zoned already?” Changmin faked a sad frown.

“Wha- What are you talking about? Of course not.”

“Ugh! Y/N…”

“Changmin…” His frown was soon turned into a bright smile, leaning forward to playfully boop her nose with his own. She couldn’t help but giggle when he did that.

“Should we go out this weekend?” He asked.

“Where to?”

“We can check out that new haunted house for this year’s Halloween.”

“You just want to see me suffer don’t you?”

“Maybe just a little.”

“You ass.” Changmin giggled before pushing himself off her car, only for her to slap his torso playfully.

“I’ll text you once I’m home. Be careful.” She said while Changmin began to walk towards his sports bike across the parking lot. While all of this was happening, someone witnessed this from one of the bikes parked in the lot.

It was Jisung.

That weekend, Changmin came over to her apartment to fetch her but he was an hour early. Hence, the reason why he was now just casually sitting in her bed while he picked out her outfit. After what felt like forever, he finally chose for her a simple denim skinny ripped jeans, a black sleeveless fitting top and a khaki green bomber jacket.

As for the shoes, she chose to wear a simple pair of converse high tops. Changmin was just sitting in her living room while she got dressed, only for him to receive a call from Juyeon, who happened to also be his friend.

“Hey Min! Wanna hang out today?”

“Sorry Ju, I have plans today.”

“Aww man. Who are you meeting?”

Changmin was so close to saying her name when he stopped himself abruptly. “Uhh, s-someone…”

“Ooh! Are you going on a date?”

“H-Huh? No, absolutely not. She’s just a friend.”

“Don’t take too long brother, or else someone might just steal her away.” Juyeon said. Changmin could literally hear his friend smile on the other line. Just then, Changmin heard her bedroom door unlock so he quickly said goodbye to his friend.

“Alright man, I gotta go. Bye.”

“Bye bro, good luck.” Juyeon teased before proceeding to hang up, making Changmin shake his head slightly.

The both of them soon left only for them to take Changmin’s bike instead of her car since it’s slightly easier to find a parking spot later. They went to get a light dinner first before heading to the theme park that was decked out with scary decorations and they even had new haunted houses for this year’s Halloween season.

The two of them were just walking around with the crowd. People were diligently running away from killer clowns and also scary looking masked actors.

She flinched quite a few times as she often grabbed his arm for comfort.

Just when she was talking to Changmin, a killer clown came charging right at her. She flinched, immediately grabbing Changmin’s shirt to bury herself in his chest. He couldn’t help but laugh, wrapping his arms around her body while the clown tried to scare her by putting the chainsaw right beside her ear.

Changmin could feel his heart race in his chest as she rested her arms firmly on his torso.

“Is he gone?” She whispered, terrifyingly.

“Yeah.”

Y/N carefully opened one eye, peaking past her shoulder, only to come face to face with the scary clown, making her let out a soft squeak. She pushed the clown away by his shoulders.

“Leave me alone!” She whined while Changmin was still hugging her. The clown laughed menacingly at her. Starting up his chainsaw again, making her flinch.

“Ugh! You little-” She almost cursed out of annoyance but the clown ran away to scare other people.

“I think you scared him more than he scared you.” Changmin teased while laughing at her.

“Oh shut up.”

She said with a sad pout on her face in which he couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter. They were now entering a queue to go to one of the new haunted houses when a familiar voice called out her name from behind her. She turned around, only to see Jisung with his friends, approaching the queue they were in.

She soon found herself smiling and waving at him who mimicked her expression the minute he came to a stop behind her in line.

“Is this your first house?” Jisung asked, shaking her head saying it was already her forth. Just then, Jisung’s eyes travelled towards Changmin who was standing beside her. Who then turned to see who Y/N was talking to. Changmin gave him a soft smile, making Jisung return the gesture.

“Ahh, I’m sorry to disrupt anything. I’ll leave you with your boyfriend.” Jisung said only to awkwardly smile at her, about to turn back around. That’s when Changmin spoke up to clear things up.

“Uhh, it’s fine, she’s-” But she seemed to cut him off.

“It’s okay, my boyfriend’s fine with it.”

With that, Changmin froze as Jisung’s eyes kept going back and forth between Y/N and Changmin. Y/N continued talking to Jisung but she sneakily played with Changmin’s fingers, making his heart race in his chest.

At this point, Jisung wasn’t jealous, nor was he upset that he didn’t get a chance to bring her out on a date because he feels that she is much better off with Changmin. After they were finished with that house, they gathered at the exit, only for Y/N to smile at Jisung and his friends.

“That was scary, I almost slapped someone in there.” Hyunjin confessed, making them all laugh.

“I wouldn’t wanna be that someone.” Jisung said.

Y/N laughed, turning to Jisung and rested her hand on his arm for a few seconds while she spoke.

“Alright, I’ll leave you guys to enjoy the rest of the night. See you in school.” She said, making the guys bid their goodbyes and soon walked the other way. After they left, she knew exactly what Changmin was gonna talk about so she quickly changed the topic by pointing to a snack cart and dragged Changmin to it.

They spent the next few hours with her screaming and whining while he laughs at her for being scared every time.

It was getting late and she was already tired so he decided to send her home. On their way back, they were at a cross junction when he removed his hands from the handlebar only to lean back into a sitting posture. They were both quiet as she rested her hands on his back, carefully sliding them around his waist.

Changmin found himself smiling at nobody. He glanced over his shoulder a little to look at her through his full face helmet. However, that cute moment was soon interrupted when a loud tyre screeching sound was heard from the other side of the junction.

Both of them whipped their head over to the left, that’s when they saw a lorry crashing into a car that soon overturned from the impact.

She gasped when she saw the driver of the car weakly crawled out of the overturned vehicle, his head and hands were bleeding. The lights turned green but Changmin quickly swerved towards the right to stop by the side to get down and help.

A few other passer-by's stopped their vehicles only for them to rush over to the scene.

The lorry driver got off, he even tried to run away drunkenly but some bystanders managed to chase him down. Changmin gently led the car driver to the side while a lady called the ambulance.

Just then, the man pointed shakily to the car as he said.

“M-My… My w-wife… P-Ple-Please h-help he-her.”

With that, Y/N and two more bystanders rushed to the car and they saw the woman hanging upside down from her seat. Her seatbelt was still intact but her head was bleeding. Red crimson blood dripping down her arms and head.

This alone made Y/N’s breath start to get choppy. She made slow steps backwards. Changmin turned around just in time to see her collapse to the ground in a state of shock, sitting there motionless. He rushed to her, cupping her face worriedly.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?” Changmin asked but he knew her mind wasn’t there currently.

With that being said, Changmin carefully lifted her up to bring her towards the sidewalk. He sat beside her with one arm around her waist while the other gently caressing her head comfortingly.

After the ambulance came, Y/N was still shaking in his arms when they watched the paramedics bring both the victims into the vehicle.

Changmin turned to Y/N and softly whispered.

“Are you okay? Let’s get you home. Come on.” He said gently to her. She stood up but her knees were weak from the trauma.

Changmin sends her home safely and he even offered to accompany her for a while before heading home. However, instead of her wanting to shower straight away, she pulled him down on the couch as they sat there side by side quietly for a bit.

“It triggered your past didn’t it?” He asked cautiously, making her nod.

Changmin sighed because he already knew what it was. With that being said, he pulled her into a hug with her willingly accepting it without a single doubt. She buried her face into his neck as he gently caressed her back soothingly.

The room fell silent and all they could hear was their calm breathing. Just then, Changmin pulled away slightly, only to press a firm kiss against her temple. Her heart stopped beating for a millisecond, feeling her whole body freeze. Changmin smiled softly while he drew lazy patterns into her back, that’s when she spoke up.

“Can you stay with me? Please? I’m scared… I already lost the people I love so much. I don’t want to lose anyone else. Especially you.” She whispered softly against his shoulder. He heard every single word clearly.

With that being said, he carefully pulled her away from him. He stared into her glossy eyes that were filled with tears, threatening to roll down her cheeks. He gently cups her face as he wipes her fallen tears with his thumbs. Changmin couldn’t bear to see her heartbroken, it pained him to see her like this. So the only way to make her happy again is to fulfil her wishes, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

“I’ll stay with you. I promise I’ll never leave you.” He said, reassuring her as he stared deep into her eyes.

She could almost feel her heart escaping her chest as she gently held onto his wrists. Changmin smiles at her softly, wiping her tears with his sweater sleeves. She leans into his hand and he couldn’t help but smile at her.

Just then, he felt like it was something he needed to do. He wanted to seal his promise. With that being said, Changmin leaned in, only to kiss her on the lips softly. Her heart stops beating momentarily as she felt like she was on cloud9.

Her anxiety and trauma from the accident earlier was already gone. Instead, it got replaced by adrenaline and love. She slides her hands up his chest, running her fingers through his hair. Changmin smiled against her lips only to deepen the kiss further. Changmin tugged on her waist, pulling her onto his lap.

She cups his neck while his hands are resting on her thighs making her shy. She pulled away, only for her to say softly.

“The actual reason why I always turn those guys down is because I was hoping you’d ask me out on a proper date. But I guess we could call today our first date.” She said, making him chuckle as he licked her bottom lip and kissed her but soon pulled away.

“No it doesn’t. Let’s go on a real date. I’ll properly ask you out this time.” Changmin confessed, making her giggle. He captured her in a kiss, making her melt against his touch.

Changmin spent the night with her. He showered her with so much love, filling in the amount that she has been missing out all throughout her childhood.

She couldn’t ask for a much better friend and partner. She woke up the next morning to him playing with her hair in bed as she was snuggled against his warm, cosy chest. He gave her good morning kisses and did that for the rest of the day, making her laugh. She definitely wouldn’t want to lose anybody else that’s in her life. Especially not Changmin.

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