#i have many ideas that i like but i hate my writing lately

[fanficsbysteve]

Note: You can thank @weewoo911 for this idea not leaving my brain so I had to write it before I could continue on my other WIPs. Thank you for this and I hope you enjoy. I’m ignoring the Abby thing because that was BS, and I don’t like it. This will probably be multiple chapters. All from Tommy’s POV cause its more fun to write. Not sure how many chapters though. I'll keep you posted as I write them.

***

Tommy sat at the second floor table, his phone out, mindlessly scrolling through the various apps he had downloaded. Twitter, Tumblr, those kind of apps. The ones where you created a username and maintained some level of anonymity. He loved being able to spend time just looking at things he enjoyed without people knowing what he was doing or who he was. Lately all he had been doing though is reblogging images of actor Evan Buckley. Evan Buckley in “My Heart Yearns.” Evan Buckley in “Christmas in the Poconos.” Evan Buckley in “The Things That Ate You.” Evan Buckley in “What Happens Happened.” This man was currently the king of the B-Movies and Tommy loved every single one of them, owning many of them on DVD or Blu-ray so he could watch them over and over again.

Tommy was a gay man and was coming to terms with his homosexuality. He hadn’t told anyone in his life yet. That wasn’t any of their business. But he was slowly hating himself less as the days progressed. Maybe he would tell someone when he didn’t hate himself as much as he did, maybe Hen would be the best option. She was an out and proud lesbian with a loving wife, she wouldn’t judge him like he judged himself. He felt dirty looking at the pictures he did online. He felt horrible just thinking about the things that he wanted all those men to do to him. Particularly Evan Buckley. That man could do things that weren’t in any holy book to him, and Tommy would probably thank him for it. And it still made him feel dirty inside. Not nearly as much as others. Just a little. Nothing Evan Buckley did could make him feel completely like he was a horrible person going to hell.

So, Tommy was scrolling while they sat around the 118. It was quiet *knock on wood* and Tommy was enjoying the quiet time. They had finished all their various “chores” and Bobby was already cooking some dinner. Everyone knew to leave Bobby alone while he was in the kitchen, “Seen any good movies lately?” Chimney’s voice broke the silent revery that Tommy’s mind had taken. His real name was Howie Han, however everyone called him Chimney. Nobody really knows why, and Chim likes to keep it mysterious. Tommy thinks its because Chimney’s are tall and built well. However, their Chimney is anything but that.

Tommy looked up from his phone, “Nothing really. Just the usual B-movies that nobody really watches.”

“Why do you do that to yourself?” Hen asked looking up over the newspaper she had been reading, “They are always so painfully bad.”

“I know,” Tommy smiled, “But they make me laugh. You never watched Mystery Science Theatre 3000? They basically made a career out of watching the worst movies that cinema has to offer. And they are gloriously bad. Making up commentary for them is half the fun.”

“I’ll just have to take your word for it,” Chim replied, “I took Tatiana to see that new Marcel movie. Can’t remember what I was called but it was ok.”

“I’ll stick to my sappy RomComs and B-movies,” Tommy replied, “They never disappoint me to the point of forgetting a title.”

Tommy went back to his phone. He was on Tumblr right now, curating his queue, enjoying his timeline. It had taken him some time, but he had finally gotten it to the point where he enjoyed just spending hours scrolling, finding new posts for his own blog and queue. He admitted that he was a bit of an Evan Buckley stan account at this point. His posts were mostly either pics of Evan Buckley, gifs of Evan Buckley, videos of Evan Buckley, or stories written about Evan Buckley. He was just so handsome, and it made Tommy’s stomach turn itself over and over. From the tattoos that covered his body in special places, so that adorable little birthmark above his eye. Tommy wanted to plant a kiss on that mark so badly.

Tommy went to the kitchen to get another refill on coffee. He hadn’t slept much the night before but that was his own fault. He had gotten distracted by watching Evan Buckley movies and he just wanted to finish at least one. One lead to another and suddenly it was an hour before he had to get up and get ready for work. Tommy visibly yawned as he poured another cup, “Late night?” Bobby asked while he cooked.

“Just got distracted,” Tommy replied, “Didn’t realize what time it was and just didn’t end up sleeping much. Coffee is my best friend today.”

“I’ve had those nights,” Bobby smiled, “Usually they involved a beautiful woman.”

Tommy choked a bit on his coffee at the face that Bobby made at him, “um…uh…yeah…beautiful woman,” was all that Tommy managed to get out of his mouth before he hurried away, his face beet red.

He sat down in his chair and pulled his phone back out. He went back to his absent scrolling, smiling inside at all the new pictures of Evan Buckley that were appearing online recently. He had gotten a starring role in a TV show that hadn’t been announced yet, but Tommy was a premium member of the Evan Buckley fan club, so he got all the insider information. He admitted that it was childish to have that membership, but nobody knew who he was, and he was the only one who knew he had it, so why not. It got him all kinds of insider information, and he was a Millennial, so he was allowed to do this. Evan was supposed to be filming the pilot for this show he was cast in sometime in the next few months. Tommy would definitely be watching that show.

“Dinner’s ready,” Bobby announced as he put plates of food on the table. They always served family style, taking what you wanted from the plates and passing them along. It was a tradition that Bobby had started. It was never like this during the Gerrard Era or any of the other dozen chiefs they had since. Just Bobby wanted to make the changes that made working at the 118 better.

“So, I have an announcement to make,” Bobby said as everyone had plated up their meal and was starting to eat, “We will be having someone come and shadow us a little bit for the next few months. They will be filming a new show called HotShots soon. It’s a show about firefighters, and they want some of their actors to get some firsthand experience. To add to the realism. The higher ups have approved of this as they feel this would be really good PR for the LAFD. Several different stations have had different actors who have been cast in the show come shadow us for a bit.”

“Any idea who we got?” Chimney piped up, “Hopefully it’s Samantha Callens, I heard she was cast in something and maybe it was this. She can really learn what its like to be a female firefighter from our Hen here.”

“Shut it Chim,” Hen piped up.

“No, we have someone different,” Bobby said. He pulled out his phone to check his emails, “Give me a second here to find it. Ah yes, we have someone named Evan Buckley coming.”

Tommy did a spit take with the coffee he had just been drinking, sending it flying across the table. Nobody was sitting across from them so that was a blessing, “You know that guy?” Chim asked having dodged to the side to avoid the coffee, Chim was in the chair next to the spot opposite Tommy.

“No…not really…he’s just been in a couple movies I’ve watched,” Tommy stuttered, trying to wipe up the coffee he spat all over up.

“Well, he starts tomorrow,” Bobby said, “And I expect everyone to be on their best behaviour.”

Tommy sat down in his chair, his heart racing and threatening to burst out of his chest. Evan Buckley was going to be here, in the 118, with Tommy. Tommy silently took his phone out and looked at the top of his Tumblr page, staring at his username: kinardbuckleyxoxo was all it said. Tommy knew that it was going to be a long few months. Very pleasant. But also, very long.

***

Note: Chapter 1 complete. Chapter 2 the real fun begins. I usually try and make sure that I have at least a buffer of a few chapters going before I post but I wanted to get this out into the universe so that people can let me know if they enjoy it. So, leave me some comments and likes and give me any feedback you want. Also if anyone has a fun title idea, please let me know cause I'm at a loss. (I may have written this in an hour and a half after I woke up and saw the idea from @weewoo911)

[mattscoquette]

rant beneath the cut so skip if u wanna

i’m so so so so close to literally deleting this app and abandoning my blog. idk if it’s me or whatever but i think ive been so depressed lately and writing just seems so chore like to me. i have no new ideas and i haven’t written something ive really liked in MONTHS.

and it makes me feel so bad bc i know im a popular writer on here but i feel like such a fraud bc i don’t like anything im writing and everything feels so forced. it’s even getting to a point where answering asks is a lot for me and i feel like im somewhat avoiding that.

but above everything else i feel like id be disappointing so many people if i left. but i just feel so horrible still being active on here and providing nothing new, where other blogs can post several blurbs a day.

ive been feeling like this for so long and im so scared my creativeness and wanting to write wont ever come back. i’ll get inspired to write for maybe 3 days at a time and then go back to hating what i put out and not wanting to ever write again.

[soonito]

me seeing how i got to 100 followers and that one cheol drabble keeps getting notes and i have a bunch of drafts that i just want to share so i can get some interactions but i can't seem to finish any of them

[natelia-aldelliz]

Guys... Listen I know I said I'd draw something for valentine's day but I had a bit of a rough week sooooo I'm just going to write it out instead, maybe I'll finish drawing it some day, maybe not. It's behind a show more because it's long.

(also there's talks about having sex but no actual sex, and like, general warnings about Ghost's backstory but it's very vague here).

Soap was hanging around outside, trying to bring himself to do something, anything. But the weather was nice for a February day, and the sun was out, and it was making him feel like a cat basking in the heat.

An arm wrapped itself around his shoulders, a huge body suddenly weighing on him. Ghost.

Soap hummed comfortably. This day was getting better by the minute. Any chill he might have felt from being outside in a tank top out of pure Scottish spite was instantly soothed.

Simon often times saw himself as a cold man, freezing to the touch, hidden behind a layer of ice. A proper little Elsa, Soap almost snorted out loud. The truth was that while yes, his fingers and toes' temperature was sometimes abysmal, especially in bed, the rest of him was the warmest place Johnny had ever been.

"I've got something for you in our room," Ghost whispered against his throat, making Soap shiver.

Simon had begun calling Soap's room theirs a few weeks ago and Johnny couldn't have enough of it. He was so in love it genuinely hurt sometimes to restrain himself from squeezing him to death.

"Is that so?" he purrs, knowing how Ghost likes that. If this day didn't end in sex he'd be very surprised. He'd long learned to recognize when Simon wanted sex and when he didn't, and the way he squeezed his pec in response to his voice was a very easy tell.

But then again Simon was way less subtle than he thought he was.

They made their way back to their room, and there it was, a repurposed shoebox, badly wrapped with cheap wrapping paper. Johnny couldn't be more excited, he had never received any gift from a significant other. To be fair he adored gifting but always felt awkward receiving.

But this was Simon. Something that Simon had chosen to give him.

He sat on the bed, leaving enough space behind him for Ghost to sit there so he could use him as a very comfortable backrest. When he did, he grabbed the gift and began opening it.

He knew that Ghost liked to tear the wrapping paper, liked the sound of it and liked tearing it into the smallest pieces possible after, but he himself loved carefully unwrapping it and folding it flat so he could later maybe do an origami with it or put a piece in his journal. Probably both.

This one was full of tape but he still very much enjoyed himself, considered it a challenge. He enjoyed the chase, wanted to drag it on. Ghost huffed impatiently behind him, a bit tense, probably nervous.

Inside the box was a weird old fashioned clunky thing. It was bright red, looked slightly like binoculars, definitely from the 70's, with a wheel of tiny pictures wedged in the top of it. Memories hit him all at once.

"Oh my god ah remember, my Ma had one of these when ah was a child! My sister and I loved it, it had pretty landscapes in!"

He put it against his eyes, excited to see what this one came with. At his biggest surprise, it was a picture of them. Simon had customised it.

The picture showed the back of himself a bit further away from the camera, pointing at something while in full gear, in a dilapidated town, Ghost's face in the foreground looking at the camera. It looked like Soap was talking to someone, but that person was cut by the framing.

"Wait, ah remember that mission, it's when ah saved Gaz from a landmine just to be shot seconds later," he laughed. "ah spent two fucking weeks in the hospital, ah was miserable. Ye kept joking ah should hiv left Gaz explode while staring at him, he was convinced ye actually wanted him dead!"

Then the next picture was indeed him in his hospital bed, unconscious but the state of his injuries told him he was probably just sleeping at least a few days after his admission, his life no longer in danger. In this one, Ghost was sleeping too, head in his elbow near Soap's head and his other hand holding Soap's hand.

"Who took this one?" Soap asked, moved by the tenderness of Ghost's hold on him in the picture. It would have been right after Johnny had admitted to maybe liking him more than friends, before they were officially dating.

"The hospital one?"

Soap hummed.

"Price did. Said it was for blackmail. Should have seen him, he looked like his child had just married the person of their dreams and had ridden off into a rainbow on a unicorn or some shit. Old man's sentimental as fuck, but I didn't call him on his bullshit, he's already old, that's punishment enough."

Soap giggled in response. The next few pictures were all of them together but each time he was either turning his back or asleep.

"Why the fuck am ah never looking at the camera?" he whined. He wanted some cute couple pictures, dammit!

"Couldn't have you suspecting what I was planning," Simon said, kissing his shoulder soothingly. Only then Soap noticed that he had taken his mask off at some point and turned to ask for a proper kiss, which he immediately got.

"Keep going, there's more pictures," Simon whispered against his lips when he tried to turn around to kiss him some more. His pouting only got him a smirk in response, so he got comfortable again and brought the slide viewer back against his eyes.

He was happy he did. The next picture waiting for him was just Simon in the mirror, almost in full gear, but with one gloveless hand dragging his trousers down so the camera could see the bottom of his stomach, follow along his happy trail and reaching the very top of his pubic hair. The picture cut of his head, but he could see that his mouth was uncovered and he was holding the glove with his teeth.

Soap groaned. "Steaming Jesus, love, you're so hot."

He felt Simon hide his face in the back of his neck, warmer than usual, and chuckled a bit. He loved him so fucking much.

There were four more pictures of Simon, in various suggestive poses and states of undress, some almost showing his cock but never quite committing, making Johnny feel like he was being teased.

He was getting hard though and so ready to be done with the pictures and access the real thing. But Simon was still tense behind him. In fact, he had only gotten tenser and tenser with each click.

Soap was unsure why. They never had a problem with their sexual life, Simon had already changed his mind about having sex after starting and Soap had absolutely no problem with that, was glad to hug him instead and reassure him when he had tried to apologize.

Simon knew that there was no pressure, ever, to have sex. Hell, Johnny would still be happy even if Simon decided that he never wanted to have sex again, and he had made sure to make Simon understand that.

Then he got to the last picture and immediately understood.

It wasn't a picture of either of them, just a little bit of paper, with a few words written in Ghost's awful handwriting.

Just a few words that made Johnny drop the viewer on the covers and turn around to grab Simon's face, worriedly looking in his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking for any trace of Simon forcing himself. "Baby, ah'm happy to bottom for the rest of mah life, there's no pressure, okay?"

Simon looked at him with warmth in his eyes and his cheeks completely red, a wrapping bow added on top of his head. "I know," he said simply. "I just want to. I don't want to be haunted by memories anymore. I used to like it, and I want to like it again. With you. Just.... Be gentle, okay?"

Johnny kissed his forehead. "Ah dinnae think ah ken how no tae be gentle with ye, love."

[mishy-mashy]

I just think if Natsuki Naoko was transported to Re:Zero instead of Subaru, we'd have a very different - but also funny and now a slice-of-life - story

Everything she says doesn't have any hatred or weight behind it, it's all sounding like the airy speculation of a child going "Ohhhhh"

(About spirits, whenever they show up) "Well, I hate small, round things."

Somehow managing to walk away from the alleyway without a problem, the trio just bows awkwardly and apologize for standing in her way like scolded children

"S-Sorry.."

Since I (personally) wouldn't want to subject Mama Naoko to Return By Death, I think everything would magically work out for her and she'd throw around life lessons that no one understands... at first

"That's why you should always label your mayonnaise bottle."

"Um... Mayonnaise?"

Just a nice mother, clapping her hands with a happy smile, unaware to the small crowd of the cast she's amassed behind her, all Team Protect Mama.

[thepandalion]

I have a fic idea and I dont know if I want to write it or not send help

[foxmulderautism]

beau is such a trailblazer of an oc cause he's the first dallonwrites protagonist to have a good relationship with his family

[bkgexe]

if all else fails, i was myself

bakugou x reader ✾ 4.6k

info! no smut sorry gang ✾ tw! trust issues that manifest as issues w physical intimacy/contact, dubcon in its vaguest definition (NOT bkg & reader) ✾ notes! ive been in perpetual writers block for months. is this trite idk. i miss my baby but anytime i write for him im like oops this is gonna be 60k words!!! so here is. a drabble lmao. also big lmao moment this is titled after count me out by kendrick lamar ldskfjdlkjf which was on repeat while writing so uh sorry mr. lamar abt the mha fanfic

katsuki has always known that part of him is wrong.

he’s never liked being touched. every kiss he’s experienced has made him tense as an elevator cable poised to snap. any attempt to go further than that has made him a little ill, made his gut feel like a stack of loose papers being torn to shreds, slow and loud.

it doesn’t help that he’s only ever had three kisses in his life: eijirou at a new year’s party (too many teeth), eijirou again at another new year’s party nearly a decade later (too much tongue), and then his fourth date with kyoka (when he tried to convince himself he just had to push through the discomfort to become normal).

things went further than that. it was a mistake. they both knew it right after it happened—kyoka first, and then katsuki after his head stopped pounding with what if i'm doing this wrong what if she's pitying me for fucking this up what if i don't know how to touch another person correctly what if i was supposed to learn at some point and i missed it how could i fucking miss it will it always be like this because i can't do this again i can't i don't—

“kat," she said after. she looked at him with something only a few degrees removed from pity, and poorly removed at that.

he attempted a halting non-apology. he attempted a real apology. failed at both.

"it's okay, you know," she said. "to not like it."

he scoffed even though he wasn’t entirely clear on what she meant by it, because there was so much he didn’t like. “i like it just fine.”

“if that was liking it, I’m honestly worried about your capacity for enjoying life in general.” it wasn’t a joke. her bluntness was something that'd made katsuki think he could push his boundaries with her. all of her thoughts were laid out plain for him to read, an open-source journal. “i'm just saying you don't have to like it. and you don’t have to force yourself to do things you don’t want to do. don't fuck yourself over for someone else's happiness.”

kyoka still texts him often, checks in, invites him to drinks with their friends. she’s kind. she’s normal. she doesn’t have this weird, shredded thing inside her that makes her balk at the idea of someone’s hand on her skin. that makes her think she's doing something wrong, even if she's not the one that initiated the touch.

when you started your job at the front desk of katsuki’s agency, he never thought that he'd be here, wishing above everything that he could just be normal. just for one fucking day, so he could laugh at your shitty jokes and maybe brush his knuckles across the back of your hand in passing and take you on a date where he could kiss you in his car after driving you home and the thought wouldn’t make his skin crawl, wouldn't tear up his insides to pulp.

because he fucked everything up. he's standing in his empty office where you'd been spending time with him and he fucked it up and hurt you and he's not sure how to unfuck it.

the thing is, he could grin and bear it. he could deal with the odd thing inside him that hates the contact and white-knuckle it through every kiss, every caress. but he’s never been a great actor. he wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.

(kyoka told him, years later, that it’s not that the sex itself wasn’t fine—what made it nearly unbearable for her was the fact that she could tell, only after it was too late, that being physically vulnerable with her pained him far more than he was willing to reveal.)

no one wants to feel like the person they’re with is grinning and bearing it. that they’re white-knuckling it through. katsuki knows this. he knows he’s basically a fucking virgin all but in title at thirty and that he’s got the personality of a dried-out fig you find in your fridge weeks after its last edible moments. he doesn't have much to offer.

but he walked into work one day and nodded at you, curt, a grimace on his face—and you smiled at him so kindly that his stomach twisted.

with you, it wasn't the feeling of something being torn apart. it was different, lighter. leaves wrenched into the sky by a strong breeze. still a kind of tearing, but different—less destructive.

he was wearing a deep carmine sweater his mom sent him in one of her bi-monthly care packages (as if he’s not an adult, and a pro-hero on top of that), and you said, “that’s such a nice color on you. is it new?”

there was that breeze inside his chest, strong, pulling at his bones. “yeah,” he grunted. then slowly, as if remembering how: “thanks.”

it was the attention, he thought at first, that piqued his interest. he wasn't used to it. people always watched him from afar, and he had fans online that were borderline obsessive, but people didn’t approach him. they didn’t say that’s such a nice color on you. they didn’t smile the way you smile.

he’s always had a shallow streak. it’s not like he doesn’t know this. it’s become a little muted over time, a little discouraged by the visible scarring on his face and body from his time in the field, but it’s never fully been eradicated. so it was simple, he thought. you paid him attention and stroked his ego, and he preened like a self-obsessed bird of paradise.

and then you started making these little origami whale sharks.

fucking stupid. it bothered him an annoying amount. you had a bunch at your desk, all different colors and sizes, some taped to your desktop monitor, some hung up with little pieces of string under the desk's storage overhang. you drew dots on the back of each one, a distinct spotted pattern that was unique for each shark. and you made them for everyone but him. eijirou bought you a pack of high quality origami paper and you made him his own fucking school, all with little faces, winking or surprised or angry, their wide paper mouths gaping and empty, the lines of their bodies pressed careful and sure.

he hated it. it was annoying and a waste of company time and he usually didn’t ever use dumb corporate slogans like “a waste of company time” but you were really pushing his fucking limits.

it was definitely just the attention he liked, he told himself, because surely someone doing something as dumb as this would annoy him to no fucking end if he spoke to them.

and then he spoke to you and he was wrong.

he asked why you made the damn things in the first place and you told him, “i like whale sharks. but to be totally honest, i just run out of things to do."

and he saw that as a challenge. you were running out of things to do? rest assured he could find more shit for you to take care of. so he did. tasks that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, they were so dull and time-consuming. and you were so achingly competent that it drove him up a fucking wall. you completed everything he asked of you in half the time it would take someone else, and you always reported back with a smile, and you always did good work, and he could see himself having a conversation with you about something other than work but he didn't want to try because he was worried he'd begin to like you as a person.

you're pretty. really fucking pretty. he can see that now, and he sure as fuck saw it then. you're hardworking. you're just likeable, and that's something katsuki had never been. it (reluctantly) impressed him. worse than that, it turned his feelings for you into a sort of interest.

but he knows he's not normal when it comes to things like this.

he tried to distance himself from you because of it, but it turns out that asking someone to do work for you means you do have to speak to them sometimes. and sometimes turned into a lot of times.

sometimes turned into bringing him coffee in the morning, not because he asked you to, but because you're sweet like that. sometimes turned into being the person he bounced ideas off of when he had a board meeting coming up or something otherwise boring and meticulous. sometimes turned into you laughing at his prickly comments rather than going quiet because of them. turned into you saying suck it up, dynamight, this is what it means to be the boss when he complained about doing paperwork.

sometimes turned into staying late with him at the office, getting take out for the two of you to share while you finished filing claims and damage reports and other stuff he hated taking care of by himself. sometimes turned into him asking you to stay late just because he wanted you there. because even when he was quiet, you'd tell him about your day, about things that happened in the office, about how much you like the book you'd both been reading. he loved listening to you talk. felt comfortable enough to tell you things about himself when he'd never felt comfortable doing that before.

sometimes turned into you holding out a piece of fried tofu from your take-out container for him to eat while he was approving time-off forms that he should have looked at much earlier that week, and you being so close that he could notice how good you smelled, and the warmth of your body basically radiated towards him, like all your energy was focused on him, and your smile was small but somehow even more lovely than usual, a secret for him to tuck away and keep, and when you finished feeding him and he had a little sauce on the corner of his mouth and you reached forward to wipe it off for him and your hand lingered there for a moment and your eyes fell to his lips and what if you try to kiss me and i'm wrong and you hate me for it and what if i can't give you what you want and what if i'm not actually what you want what if i've disappointed you already what if—

it was too much.

so he fucked it up. your thumb was so soft against his skin. he reeled backwards in his chair, rolling it whole feet clear of you, and he felt the tearing again, the bad kind, like paper unevenly shredded by clumsy hands, and he had to leave. he had to leave. he needed to leave so badly that it felt like pulling his skin off would be preferable to being in that office with you.

hiding in the bathroom was fucking pitiful. he remembered his breathing exercises. he remembered to ground himself. and when he came back to his office, you were gone.

if he was normal—and he wants to be normal, god fucking damn—he could have stomached your proximity. he could have eaten out of your fucking hand. he could have touched you back like a normal person probably would have and he wouldn't be here, alone, looking at a little purple sticky note you left him that says i finished organizing the pto forms. i hope you feel better!

he doesn't know whose pride you're trying to save with that. as if you didn't leave because he made things so fucking awkward by running away from you when you touched him. when you—maybe, if he was reading the room correctly—were about to kiss him.

and you don't speak to him for days. he doesn't want to push so he doesn't—just watches you out of the corner of his eye whenever you're both in the same room, which is arguably worse. he's not sure. he's just itching to fucking talk to you because he misses it.

he misses you. in a more-than-friends way.

it takes a while for him to realize this. when he does, it hits him like a metal rod up the side of the head. it's fucked up of him to miss you the way he does when he doesn't feel like he can provide you with the things a normal person could. and though he's worked on his patience over the years—worked on understanding that he can't have everything he wants—it doesn't stop him from being selfish and finally pulling you aside to talk.

and baffling as fucking ever, the first thing you say is sorry. "i know i should've talked to you about it earlier. i just—i shouldn't have done that. and i know it. i shouldn't have assumed that—i don't know. that you..."

you look helpless. it's one of the very few times that katsuki has ever felt the compulsion to touch someone. not because he wants the touch, per se, but because he wants to be able to provide comfort. he never figured out how to do that with words. he's so focused on his inability to comfort you that he barely has any idea of what you're actually talking about. instead of doing anything at all, he just stands there like a fuckwad.

"i just want you to know that i would never—like never—have touched you, or tried to... if i didn't think there was like, a vibe?" you shake your head, exasperated with yourself. "god, even that sounds so bad. i'm sorry, i just—"

"wait, what are—?" and then it clicks, because he's been slow on the uptake figuring out his shit when he should have been focusing way more on yours. "there was..." katsuki says, and he fucking hates that he can't find better words for what you were both feeling in his office, "a vibe."

the way your face changes when you're flustered is one of katsuki's favorite things, but it's not as enjoyable when he feels just as flustered as you look. "i—oh? so... so you—?"

his ears feel like they're being attacked by two heated straightening irons and he knows they're red as hell right now. he's gonna have to say this plainly even though he'd rather get his teeth pulled out one by one with a pair of pliers. "it's not you."

your expression loses any sort of hope it once held. you press your lips together and sigh, maybe a little exasperated. he's doing his best here but he knows his best is shit. "i can handle a non-cliché rejection," you tell him. "honestly, i'd prefer a non-cliché rejection—"

"i'm not trying to reject you," he says, and it's selfish of him. because he's really not. he isn't comfortable with the things you'd want from him, but he still wants you in some capacity. "i just don't—do shit like that."

"kissing?"

somehow knowing for sure that you did want to kiss him in his office makes him want you more. he likes that you're bold. he likes that you're not ashamed of that. he wants to be different than he is. "any... of it," he struggles to admit.

"at all?"

he nods.

"just—like touching, and stuff?"

it sounds so juvenile that he can't help but laugh through his nose, roll his eyes. "yeah. touching and stuff."

"oh."

you're disappointed. of course you are. it's not like he expected anything different, but—sometimes he fucking hates his life. hates that he can't be the thing people need him to be. hates that trying is so difficult, that it flings his stomach into space, like a throwing stone skipping across a still lake.

"so you don't go on dates, or anything."

"haven't tried."

"do you not want to?" you ask, and he can tell it's more of a genuine question than anything. you're curious about him, like you always are. it's more than he deserves, for all he can offer.

"doesn't make sense to."

"that's not what i asked."

it's not. and so katsuki listens as you ask your question again, and he really takes a moment to think.

considering the answer to your question leads him to his first date with you. and his second, and his third—his fourth, and he's keenly aware that his last fourth date ended with what he expects all dates are supposed to end with.

he takes you to the aquarium. because of all the fucking origami whale sharks. you still haven't given him one and it sticks in his craw like a bone. in front of the backlit tank that holds sharks of all types, shapes and sizes and teeth he's never pictured possible of a living creature before, he asks, "why sharks?"

you look at him, brow raised. "i don't know. they probably needed the biggest tank in the aquarium. and this looks like the biggest tank."

"no, dumbass—your sharks. the ones all over the fuckin' office."

"what, you don't like them?" you ask, but you're smiling, sly.

he shrugs. he thinks they're dumb as hell. he wants one to hang up at work, like the ones you've got hung up at your desk. "they're whatever. they clutter the fuck out of ei's office. and he's already got issues organizing." you've just made eijirou so many at his point, and it's getting ridiculous. "but what—are they easy to make, or something?"

you laugh a little. "no. not at all, actually." a whale shark swims by, its spotted hide shimmering in the tank's eerie blue lighting, and you watch it intently. "but it'd be boring if it was too easy."

this date ends with him walking you home from the aquarium a few blocks from your apartment and you smiling at him and telling him that you had a really great time, and he feels like a fucking freak because you don't even expect more. you don't wait for a kiss. don't look disappointed that he doesn't try to give you one. the way you look at him holds so much affection that he doesn't deserve and he has no idea how to reciprocate it to you, and somehow he lands on, "make me one."

"one what?" you ask, but he thinks you already know what he's asking. you like to play coy. he likes it when you play coy. when you're enjoying yourself.

"one of your little fuckin' paper things," he mutters, because admitting that he wants one of those dumbass sharks feels somehow demeaning. he doesn't want you to know how much he's wanted one. "ei's got a million of 'em."

your hand was on your door handle, but it falls to your side. he's keenly aware of its proximity to him. he doesn't feel that terrible ripping in his gut and its absence is almost frightening to him. your fingers tighten into a fist. it's cold out. "ah, and you're jealous?"

"no," he says, knee-jerk. "i just don't get why everyone gets one but me."

you smile when he says this and he could live in this image of you, delicate and small and made for him. he goes home and thinks about it until he falls asleep. thinks about it even beyond then, feels that strong breeze inside him tearing every leaf from its grounded perch.

here's the thing—nothing against jirou, but unlike his other fourth date, this one was enjoyable. more than. he loved watching you be amazed by the size of the whale sharks, and he loved watching you put a bunch of coins into the penny press and cranking the machine until one was squeezed out into the pattern you wanted, and he loved watching you lay your hand against the glass where the rubbery wings of a flood of stingrays battled for your attention, and—

he loved watching you. that's weird, right? he sounds like a fucking lunatic thinking that.

but he does. he hadn't realized until now how difficult it had been not only to touch people, but to look at them. maintaining eye contact, watching someone do a simple task out of interest instead of staring them down in an attempt to intimidate them. he's so much more fucked up than he thought but what makes it bearable is that he can do it with you. he can watch the way you enjoy things and feel like he's not intruding on something he shouldn't. without even trying, you make him feel welcome—wanted.

that's it. you make him feel wanted.

the realization affects him in a way he doesn't understand. at work the next day, when you smile at him over the top of the front desk, he feels something incredibly strong—something like instinct—that tells him to touch you. small. a thumb brushed across your cheek. his fingers grazing yours. he wants it in a way that can't be right because he's never wanted to touch someone like this.

he doesn't do it, but he thinks about it all day. your little smiles when you notice him watching you on your dates, the way your fingers graze your lips when you cover your laugh, the softness in the way you regard him. you're quiet, reserved, but when you laugh you laugh hard. he wants your soft, your quiet and your loud, he wants the feeling of your fingers on his lips, he wants your smallest smiles, all things he wishes he could fold up and keep and later display somewhere he can always see them. a school of paper fish, gaping mouths and drawn-on spots and such carefully pressed lines.

so on the eleventh date—(he knows it's ridiculous to count, but he's never spent this much time with one person before, not like this)—he reaches for your hand when you're walking alongside the bay, the air turning cold in the wake of the sunset that the two of you had just witnessed. that's romantic, you'd teased when he asked you to watch it with him. he'd rolled his eyes, shrugged you off.

but maybe he wanted it to be romantic. maybe he wanted to make this as normal as possible for you because nothing has been normal between the two of you so far.

you pull back when he reaches for you, as if on instinct. look up at him, confused, when he reaches out again. "katsuki..." you say, and it sounds as if he's done something wrong.

he tries not to let his brain spiral but thoughts drip inwards. water meeting a dented hull. what has he done this time? what else has he fucked up by being fundamentally wrong?

"you know..." you start, and you lose your words.

he thinks of kyoka, years ago. it's okay, you know. to not like it. he wonders if you'll still text him like she does.

your lips pull into a frown before you speak and katsuki can't breathe. "i was never gonna ask on my own because i know you don't like talking about things like this if you don't bring it up. but—um. katsuki—do you think i expect something from you?"

"huh?" he asks, dumb. breathing is still something he fails to do.

"i know that this is—different. i know you have some things going on that make the physical part hard for you." you look up at him so earnestly, and he loves looking at you. he loves looking at you and doesn't want to have to stop and he's worried that this is it. the moment he'll have to stop. you try to smile and it's small and he wants it all for himself. careful. delicate. secret, for him. "i'm not gonna lie to you. i don't know what a relationship without that kind of stuff looks like. but that doesn't mean i'm not willing to find out. it's—i don't need you to try to do something you think i want you to do."

"i'm not."

"it makes me feel a little sick, kat. honestly. it makes me feel like, i don't know—like i'm taking advantage of you, or something—"

"you're not."

"you don't have to do things like that to keep me around." you look flustered, eyes darting from his face to the skyline. "if you want me, i'm—you know."

it's okay, you know. "i don't know."

"i'm yours," you say, and cringe immediately at your words. "or like—i could be, you know, kind of whatever you wanted, if you—if that's what you want. would want."

katsuki can only remember a few times when his head was this quiet in the presence of someone else. when he trusted someone enough to let his mind go blank, to let himself act on instinct. "can i kiss you?"

you sigh. "this is what i was saying. i don't want you to—"

"no," he says, quiet, and he's closer to you than he's ever been. he likes the way you smell. he's not gonna apologize if that's weird. "i just want—god, i feel pathetic asking again. can i just—?"

just, just, just. just a touch, just a kiss, just a moment of your fucking time—it's all he wants. and he's never wanted like this. he's never trusted like this. his head has never quieted entirely because he's so sure that he's not going to disappoint you, or be something you don't actually want, or be wrong.

you've shown him that he can't be wrong with you, regardless of whether or not something within him is broken.

your lips are warm, a little chapped from the dry air, and he tries to remember what kissing chastely is but it's like something breaks in him further the second the two of you touch. his hands are cradling your face, his tongue is gliding against your tongue, his teeth are clacking against your teeth, and he knows the kiss is bad and wrong and messy but he suddenly needs it. he needs to feel you.

you make a noise against him and worry slices into his stomach before he realizes it's a quiet, breathy moan, and maybe you've been okay without the touch but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy it when you receive it. he can tell he hasn't made his boundaries clear enough—your hands circle his wrists, too cautious to go further, too hesitant to grip him like he thinks you want to. like he wants you to want to.

his teeth hit yours again and you laugh, and he pulls back, stomach tight. there's a hope in him that's ready to be torn.

you see it in his face—the fear. "i love kissing you," you blurt out, as if it's the only reassurance you can think of in the moment. "i mean—you're just." you laugh again, and he realizes it's nerves. you're just as nervous as he is. "can i—can we go somewhere warm? and maybe do this more? or—if this was enough—"

he's pulling you towards his apartment before you can get another word out.

kissing you is easy because you make him feel like it's relatively new for you as well. maybe that's how it feels for everyone every time, but he wouldn't know. he just feels comfortable with you. like you're not so much better than him, like you're not waiting to laugh at him when he fucks up, like you're touching him because you really want to.

so he takes you to his apartment and puts you on his couch and kisses you until your back is against the armrest and he's looming over you and you feel comfortable enough that your hands stray from his wrists to his shoulders to his hair and he didn't even know touching someone could feel like this.

put aside the fact that he's nearly finished in his fucking jeans three times just from your fingers running across his back, from the way you cup his cheek when he pulls back for air because he keeps forgetting to breathe—just having you close is intoxicating. he wants to bury his face in the curve of your shoulder, he wants to bite marks into your skin that'll stay vibrant for weeks, he wants to etch himself into you so deeply that he doesn't have to leave. these wants aren't even sexual—it's something about having you be his. i'm yours, you'd told him, and he hadn't even known that it would be exactly what he needed to hear.

he's in love with you, which isn't shocking to him, but he knows he shouldn't be in love with you yet because people that aren't fucked up in the head don't feel shit like this so quickly. he's not gonna tell you this for a very long time, but he knows—so completely and confidently—that he will reach a point when he can tell you.

"you sure you want this?" he asks, breathy, between kisses.

you stop kissing him, brows raised in surprise. "katsuki, we don't... this is a lot for one night. we can take it slow, still."

"that's—i'm not talking about that." he gives in, then—lets himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, lets himself breathe in deep, lets himself find your hands and intertwine your fingers, and you can probably feel that he's hard as fucking metal for you but that's not what's important right now. it sure as hell makes it awkward to try to have a serious conversation, though. "you sure you wanna deal with all... you know. my stuff."

"are you sure you wanna deal with all of my stuff?" you counter, and he pulls back to look at you. kissed rotten and smiling. "of course i want to deal with it. i like you."

and he likes you too. god, he likes you so fucking much.

the next morning, long after you've left for home, he finds a little orange whale shark hidden behind the alarm clock on his bedside table, stars in the place of eyes, and the trace of you is enough to make him feel warm. to hope that over time his apartment becomes full of the little paper creatures until his home is its own aquarium, until everywhere he looks is a memory of all you've brought him—pieces of you, perfectly arranged and delicately folded by your careful hands, much too gentle to tear.

[f1boistrash]

i have a name | l.s

a/n: so this is an idea i had after the miami gp and its been stuck in my head so im finally writing it. there is some slight jos slander and reader is max's sister

summary: y/n verstappen drives for f1 academy. they find comfort in a certain american when the media gets too much

Your whole life you've always been Max's sister. You didn't hate your brother for it because it wasn't his fault. You hated the world for being so small minded. You hated your dad for not caring. His words stuck in your head like a broken record. 'You're overreacting Y/N. It's not a big deal. You need to grow up.'

But it was a big deal because why couldn't they be bothered to learn your name. Your accomplishments throughout your career always amounted to 'Max's sister' it was never 'Y/N Verstappen'. You were sure if they could your trophies would say that too.

Going into the F1 Academy you thought it'd be different. You were excited when you got the call. The first person you told was Max and he was even more excited than you, if that was even possible. You were at the forefront of the series, watching young girls across the world become interested in the sport you loved. Something you wished you had growing up.

The driving was great. The team was great. Everything was great except the media. Its the one thing you dreaded stepping into the spotlight more. You tried to develop a thick skin like your brother but it was difficult when you constantly got picked at.

"So, Y/N, great day today. You qualified third. How was it?" The interviewer asked.

"Yeah it was great. Obviously we'd prefer P1 but we're still happy with the result and looking forward to pushing it even more tomorrow." You replied, grinning at your result. It might not be front of the grid but you were still proud.

"Your brother Max had a phenomenal season last year. Can we expect the same this year?" And there it was. Your first interview of the weekend and it only took one question before they asked you about your brother. Normally you didn't mind talking about Max's accomplishments. You were so unbelievably proud of him. It's when they start talking about him when they should be asking you about your race and your season that you get annoyed.

You plastered on your fake smile, hoping no one saw the disappointment flash across your face. "It's hard to say what this year will bring but what I do know is that Max will give it his everything. Whatever happens though I'm still proud of him."

Before anymore questions about Max could be asked your manager made a sign that time was up. You thanked the interviewer and left the media pen. She gave you a run down of tomorrows schedule as you were now finished for the day. Your manager didn't need to ask if you were okay because she knew you weren't. Working with you for a few years meant she had learnt all your tells.

You thanked her for today before parting ways, leaving you alone. The night air was brisk but welcoming. You shut your eyes and sighed enjoying the silence. You were supposed to be meeting Max tonight yet you couldn't bring yourself to move. Not wanting to face him just yet.

It was late and you weren't expecting many people left at the grid. Especially the F1 drivers which was why you jumped when a voice broke the silence. "Y/N right?" Logan said, your stomach fluttered when you looked at him. You have never really spoken to Logan before, only seeing him in passing but you always thought he was cute. He also called you by your name and not 'Max's sister' which was a welcomed surprise, used to his friends calling you that. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine, just wasn't expecting anyone to be left at the track." You told him. You took in his appearance under the setting sun. He was in his Williams uniform, his hair slightly tousled from wearing his hat all day.

"Yeah, I was just heading out. Had to do a few tweaks before tomorrow. What are you doing here late?" He asked.

"Media." You grimaced. Logan laughed, understanding your reaction.

"That bad huh?"

"Yep." You nodded. "Talked about Max the whole time."

The two of slowly started walking towards the car you have rented this weekend. It was one of the few left in the parking lot. "Seriously? That's so shit." Logan said, shaking his head. It wasn't out of pity though, more like anger.

"You get used to it." You shrugged.

"You shouldn't have to though." He told you, pulling you both to a stop. His eyes, looking at you intensely making you nervous. "You were incredible out there today and I'll definitely be watching tomorrow as you get your first podium of the season."

"Wait, you watched qualifying?" You asked, surprised.

"Don't tell my trainer though." Logan grinned, winking at you making you laugh. It was a sound he could get used to.

"Well thank you Logan. It means a lot." You thanked him, coming to a stop when you reached the drivers seat door.

"You have a name, Y/N. Your not just Max Verstappen's sister and I hope you know that." He said, earnestly.

You don't know what came over you but you found yourself leaning up, pressing a kiss on Logan's cheek. "Thank you."

-x-

"You're late." Was all Max said as you walked through your hotel room door. You kicked off your shoes, walking further into the room seeing your brother lying on your freshly made bed scrolling on his phone.

"Don't you have a sim race or something?" You asked, shoving his feet off your bed trying to change the subject because what else can you say? The reason you were late was the slight breakdown you had about the interview and then you bumped into Logan. You couldn't exactly tell Max that.

He playfully stuck his middle finger up at you, knowing you were making fun of him. "How was your day anyway? Excited for tomorrow?"

"Yeah it was good." You lied. You liked that Max was oblivious sometimes because it meant you didn't have to talk about what people said about you. However, you also hated his obliviousness because sometimes you wanted your brother to comfort you. "Hopefully people won't get sick of the Dutch national anthem." You grinned at Max who laughed loudly.

You asked Max about his day and he told you about how confident he was with this years car, excited to see what he can get out of it. He carried on talking as you got out of your team uniform and into some comfy clothes when he quietened down.

"When were you going to tell me?" Max asked when you exited the bathroom. "About what the interviewer said?"

"It's fine Max." You said, avoiding his gaze on you by putting your clothes away. You were afraid if you looked at him the dam would break.

"It's not fine, Y/N." He huffed, his voice raising out of anger. It wasn't aimed at you though, Max would never raise his voice at you. "It was so unprofessional. Not to mention the commentators today couldn't even be bothered to learn your name. I'm going to do something about it."

Max's reaction reminded you of Logan's. You didn't think anyone would care this much. Especially someone who you never really had a conversation with before. You knew it was pointless to ask Max to leave it alone so you didn't bother. "Just please don't do anything stupid."

"When have I ever done that?" Max asked and you laughed. You would run out of fingers if you counted all the times Max did something stupid.

It was getting late and you and Max said your goodbyes, leaving you alone once again with your thoughts. Instead of the video on repeat in your head it was Logan's words. You reached over for your phone and unlocked it, going straight to instagram to find Logan's profile. You hit follow before going to his dms.

Y/N:

Thank you again for tonight.

His response was quick making your stomach flutter.

Logan:

You don't need to keep thanking me Y/N

Y/N:

I know

I enjoyed talking to you tonight

So thank you for your company 😊

Logan:

I enjoyed talking to you too 😊

I hope we can do it again some time

You were sure you were grinning like an idiot but you didn't care. You had fallen for the American and hard.

Y/N:

I would love to ☺️

Good luck for tomorrow Logan 💙

Logan:

Good luck Y/N 😊

[cup-o-stars]

Relativity Falls Lore Concept- The Oracle and Bill

The Oracle:

I was initially inspired by the Twitter user @SUwu159's depiction of the Oracle in their take on Relativity Falls, and made my own adaptation as I learned about her in canon.

(Assume she can change colors because I couldn't pick what I liked most)

This version of The Oracle isn't malicious per se, and does not desire the same conquest or chaos sought out by Bill. But she likes universes to be organized and quaint (or answers to another high power that demands it), and finds fulfillment in achieving these goals through any means necessary.

The Oracle and Dipper:

(Sorry if this dialogue tastes like a corndog in your mouth. I just needed to write a semi-resolution to Dipper's side of the relationship, ha.)

Getting into the real struggle with the Pines family. Dipper and Mabel don't fight and hold grudges like the Stans (that we've seen of), so my opinion is that they drifted apart in their late teens and twenties, both feeling pressured to be less attached at the hip. My current belief (though I'm very willing to rewrite this section) is that Mabel and Dipper both poured a lot of energy into pretty niche fields, and being very busy meant very short and rare windows to reach out. Both assumed the other was doing bigger and better things and felt self conscious / childish for wanting eachother's company.

I'm still considering Mabel's backstory, since I think she probably hit lower points than Dipper. You know. Starving artist, lol. But Dipper entered into paranormal investigation, pest control, etc. before his ghost + monster catching went far enough for his name to gain some notoriety. Hell, maybe Pacifica's family reached out to him to take care of "rats" that were actually ghosts, cementing his interest in Gravity Falls and giving him a window inter supernatural work.

Dipper was taken on as something of an apprentice to the Oracle 30ish years before canon as word of his good and dangerous deeds spread. However, what was at first a personal dream come true (saving lives with nerd magic) soon became a personal hell as the Oracle began to overwhelm Dipper with knowledge of various futures and universes where everything he cared about could be destroyed. He's always been over prepared and incredibly paranoid, and became obsessed with protecting the world by acting as a partner to the Oracle.

He ends up doing- or not doing- a lot of morally ambiguous things and gaining a lot of enemies. He is too ashamed to face his family- especially Mabel- with what he's done and burden them, giving the Oracle more to use against him to keep him working for her. Basically "you've already done all this and risked it all, there's nowhere to go if you stop now." Eventually this ends in her seeing him fit for her work and convincing him to hide out in and save other universes, which he gets trapped doing for the next three decades.

Little throw away idea: Pacifica could have been an investor or partner, but left as they uncovered secrets about the Northwest family. Maybe she wanted to undo something (debating making any of the Oracle's powers time related just because I hate time travel) or stop a current show of corruption, but Dipper had to stop her for the "greater good."

In the main universe, Mabel goes to Gravity Falls upon news of her brother's disappearance, searching for any loose end to trace back to him.

I love that in canon, Dipper is willing to do anything for Mabel, and Mabel gives it back. Dipper here spends all of his life keeping as many versions of her as safe as he can, and she spends all her life trying go seek him out- maybe even dropping a larger opportunity outside of Gravity Falls for her art and settling on business at the shack. Dipper wants Mabel alive, Mabel wants them both happy. I like the idea that it's Dipper and Mable vs. The Future but the future is a demon, alien thing.

Which leads me to...

Bill Cipher:

I'm actually gonna cover a couple versions of Bill I think are fitting for this AU, because I initially wasn't sure if I wanted him here at all.

Child Bill:

Pretty straight forward. Bill as a baby, child thing is tempting and this is the au where he'd exist. Personally though, I think Ford's friendship with Fidds would be more enriching to his growth, and Bill's personality is so close to Stan's they would likely be competing to fill very similiar roles. (If Bill behaves differenty as kid, I don't know about it.) Honestly, Bill is super similiar to Ford and Stan, and works better as a kind of foil or antagonist because of that (imo). I do find the mental image of Ford carrying Bill around funny. I do not enjoy human bill like, conceptually, so I'm probably never gonna design one as an adult or child, lol.

It would be cool to see a world where Bill didn't accidentally kill his parents though.

Bill - Reincarnated Original

Technically I guess they could all be reincarneted (especially baby Bill), but this version of Bill experienced and holds memories of the original canon events in GF. Beings like Bill and the Oracle can remember recent/soon approaching lives, and catch glimpses of more distant cycles as well.

What I like about Bill's recent role as an antagonist to Ford and Stan is that he constantly describes them in the terms of their worst traits, and sees them through the lens of the roles the world placed on them. In this AU, Bill is the epitome of the past (in this case a past life) coming back to bite the twins. He rattles their progress in communication as well as their sense of inner peace by bringing old Glass Shard Beach issues into Gravity Falls.

(Depicted here-> moments after Ford summons Bill using the same ritual as Gideon.)

The drawback to this is that it feels a lot like covering old ground.

Simply Bill:

This is pretty much just regular old Bill with the same fresh perspective as everyone else, and also the one I'm going with. He tried and failed to get Dipper's trust in the past and had to lay low at the arrival of the Oracle. Once they left, Bill targeted Mabel. I think it could be very interesting for Mabel and Bill to either have a fresh relationship wherein Bill is actively taking advantage of her desperation to find Dipper, or for Bill to be an old betrayal (not romantic, but not dissimilar to the opportunistic exes Stan and Ford have to be wary of and beat back under the rug regardless).

Either he shows himself to Mable early on, or decides that Gravity Falls is both Oracle-free and worth the time after either Ford or Mable summon him. Afterall, 30 years isn't much to him.

Maybe he exists in the background like he's always done, or the kids (being snoopy and disrespectful of Mabel's secrets) discover what Mabel's doing and run into him on their own.

Whether Bill is aware of the original series or not, I think he could be neat to stick in between Stan and Ford again for conflict. My favorite aspect about Relativity Falls is the prospects of the Stans having a larger support system and better tools to help themselves with. Beating Bill faster and better would be the ultimate testament to Mabel and Dipper's skills as functioning role models, even if Mabel is currently blinded by her focus on Dipper.

Stan and Ford will fight and they will make up, but this time maybe they can overcome it on their own.

I also think a good idea is having Ford and Stan's issues be completely Bill free (outside of like an episode or two's worth of relevance, unless he put them into a particularly stinging situation). It would feel fresher and also streamline the plot, lol.

Overview:

- Dipper is stuck travelling the multiverse with the Oracle and keeps himself sane by thinking of Mabel and protecting various versions of her.

- Mabel is investigating his disappearance in Gravity Falls and is working on a portal/portal equivalent with Bill to bring him back.

- The kids may or may not be aware of this.

Looking at the main series of events, I think it'd be neat go back to the apprenticeship conflict, where Ford could be approached by the Oracle (or something else that makes sense) with the promise of being a "hero," but knows better now because of Dipper and his experiences with Bill. It's kind of a more convoluted version of Ford's proposal to Dipper in canon, and they basically learn the same thing, lol. You can hang out with ghosts if you want, but demons are gonna get you. Maybe being a child with siblings is all you need.

(Stan could also be offered this, given the Oracle already knew he- or at least someone with his face- would beat Bill, but I think it's well established he isn't very interested in doing anything without family.)

All in all, things might be a bit crowded with two antagonists. But I do like the concept of Bill's arrival and subsequent chaos triggering Dipper and the Oracle's return to Mabel's dimension. I also love the idea of Bill, the Oracle, and some secret third thing all trying to pull the Pines family apart, and it's like a Man vs. God turned into a Family vs. Destiny thing, idk. Just trying to make it feel bigger.

Thank you for reading all this. It was a lot to draw. Next time I do anything for Relativity Falls, I'm gonna go back to the smaller things like Mabel bonding with the kids and stuff like that.

[yanderes-galore]

Yan!Heian!Sukuna and with Y/N?

Lately, whenever Darling got pregnant she ended up having countless miscarriages, the longest lasting at least 3 months, Sukuna began to suspect these countless coincidences.

He doesn't care about these losses since he didn't want to share Y/N with some brat, but he found it very strange that every time she got pregnant resulted in a miscarriage, so he started investigating and finally found out why this was happening.

He discovered that Y/N was causing her own miscarriages, as she knew that the last thing the world needed was Sukuna's descendants, so he finally confronts her but with that damn psychological terror that he loves to do to her.

I wasn't sure if you were just putting an idea out there or not... But I can see if I can write something small for this, sure!

Infertile Falsehoods

Yandere! Heian Era! Sukuna Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Pregnancy/Miscarriages, Mentions of abortion/Forced miscarriage, Possessive behavior, Dark themes, Blood, Manipulation, Mature themes, Spicy scenes, Threats, Implied threat of forced pregnancy, Forced relationship.

The lie you originally told your husband was that you were simply unable to carry.

You are one of the wives of Lord Ryomen Sukuna, The King of Curses. Despite him having many, you always seemed to be the favored one. You were always the one to warm his bed the most, the one he clung to even after such an act.

Naturally, pregnancy often comes up in your life. Sukuna always seemed dismissive of it, not seeming to care much about descendants. Yet he also never tried to remove such an issue.

Part of you wonders if it gives him pride to see you in such a position... To show to others he's the one to claim you.

You were never on board with carrying the demon's descendants. You hate Sukuna, you've hated him since he pressured you into a marriage you didn't want. No one deserved to be burdened with his spawn.

Which led to your frequent miscarriages.

Whenever you notice signs of being pregnant, you'd order specific herbs to be brought to you in private. While Sukuna wasn't with you, no doubt fighting or playing with some other human toy, you use the herbs to make tea or syrup. Then, quickly and out of sight, you take it.

Hours later you're a bloody mess... but heir free.

You have servants clean you, often telling them you simply can't carry. You spread the lie that you're infertile. That you aren't capable of carrying his heirs.

Sukuna, again, didn't seem to mind such losses. If anything he seemed pleased to not have a child. However... It happened so often that it was almost suspicious.

Your miscarriages were often reported to him. Something just didn't seem right. But for a long time he accepted it.

Until he caught wind of the herb issue.

Eventually some Sukuna loyalists would uncover your lie. Soon it would come to light that your miscarriages were... self-inflicted. It was bound to happen eventually...

You already knew you were done for the moment Sukuna stalked into the room he made you two share.

At first, it's just like any night with Sukuna. You're sitting on his bed while he stands in front of you. You expect him to do the usual ritual you do... especially when he leans you down.

Your lord and husband leans over you as you lay on the bed. You're used to this, watching him as one set of hands lays by your head... while the second set wraps around your waist.

Until...

"It's on purpose, isn't it?" Sukuna muses, the purr of his voice nearly making your heart stop.

"What is, my husband?" You try to play dumb, but Sukuna's grin is taunting you.

"Your miscarriages? The servants talk, wife. I know your little schemes." Sukuna accuses, once of his hands stroking your stomach gently. "You aren't infertile. We both know that."

It's suddenly hard to breathe under your husband as he teases you. He doesn't seem... mad. But it only proves you can't hide anything from him....

"You've been asking servants to bring you herbs to miscarry. I'm not stupid, girl." Sukuna clicks his tongue. "I don't care for heirs... The thought of your attention being focused on a brat is annoying... but my irritation isn't about that..."

A clawed hand wraps around your throat while another holds your hands above your head. He's always been stronger... always been larger....

He's always scared you when he cages you in.

"My issue is your disobedience." Sukuna scolds. "As my favorite wife, you are meant to be loyal and transparent... not sneak around."

"I'm sorry, my lord—!" You try to plead, yet Sukuna's grip tightens.

"You're scared of carrying my heirs, aren't you?" Sukuna growls, holding you tightly as he straddles you. "Maybe a proper punishment would be making you carry one... How's that sound?"

You shake your head, making Sukuna laugh.

"So cute when you're scared... You're lucky I don't like to share with you..." Sukuna murmurs, breath ghosting over your face. "I don't like the idea of all your attention going to a brat of my blood for legacy or what not... but I hate disobedience even more...."

Sukuna chuckles when he sees the fear on your face, loosening his grip to caress your cheek.

"Tell you what... Beg me for forgiveness tonight... Show me you're sorry." Sukuna taunts as he nibbles your neck, his many eyes glancing at you.

"Show me you mean your apology... and maybe I won't make you carry an heir... think you can do that?" Sukuna grins with sadism dripping from his tone.

Fearfully, you brace yourself for what's to come... You tell yourself you're lucky Sukuna's being merciful with you...

Yet as the night goes on with him ... you begin to wonder if he means his words... or if he'll truly use tonight as punishment for his favorite wife.

[sceletaflores]

working it out (on the remix)

pairing: art donaldson x patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: you sit in the angry silence, gears slowly turning in your head as you look between your boys. you should have known that this wasn't going to work, clearly just talking isn’t going to get the three of you anywhere.

—or: three tennis players walk into a hotel room.

word count: 5.5k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, smoking, fighting as foreplay, mean!reader my beloved, the patrick and art gay agenda, threesome, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y'all!), not quite hate sex more like angry sex, double penetration, oral sex (m!receiving), choking, finger sucking, degradation, creampies, lowkey sub!patrick coded, switch!art ofc, porn with a plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: oh em gee part three is here!!! i literally always say this but i had so much fun writing this one lol thank you so much for showing this series so much love right off the bat! i've loved loved loved reading all the ideas you guys have sent me for future chapters and trust when i say that i'll definitely be featuring as many as i can. okay bye! hope you love it! xoxo mwah.

tftw series masterlist!

Art is fuming. You keep glancing over at him to check that smoke isn't starting to blow out of his ears. It doesn't, but he's just as mad every time. Standing in the doorway huffing and puffing, arms crossed over his chest as he stares Patrick down from across the room. 

Patrick is the complete opposite, all relaxed body language and easy half-smiles as he coolly stares back. You’d make a fire and ice joke if you didn’t think it would send Art over the edge.

He’s sitting in the room’s single chair, window cracked open so he can smoke. He’s practically naked, wearing an unbuttoned long sleeve and the tiniest boxers you’ve ever seen. His bare feet are propped up on the corner of the bed you’re sitting on. 

You’re perched cross legged on the mattress, basically stuck in the middle of them.

You’re still surprised you even got Art to show up at all. You thought he almost flipped the table when you brought up Patrick at lunch, casually mentioning that you’ve been texting him for the past couple of days and you think the three of you need to talk. He was quiet for a long time before he finally asked if that meant Patrick was, has been, in town. You just shook your head yes.

You didn’t tell him you and Patrick slept together, you didn’t need to.

He went quiet again, stood up from his chair with an excuse of being late to class and stomped out of the dining hall. You texted him the address to Patrick’s hotel an hour later.

Art never responded, but his jeep was still waiting for you outside the biology building after your last lecture got out. He would always drive you back to your dorm since you’d get out so late, but this time he turned out of the campus lot and silently drove until you realized he was going to the hotel.

Now you’re here, and it's been almost ten minutes since you knocked on the door to Patrick’s room. And no one has said anything the entire time. No one has even moved, only Patrick every so often when he needs to flick his ashes out the window. A thick blanket of tense silence falls heavy over the three of you. It makes the room’s temperature feel that much hotter. The shitty air conditioner hums faintly in the background.

“So,” you say slowly, voice finally piercing through the quiet, “Am I gonna have to be the first to talk again or–”

“God, I don’t know,” Art cuts in tersely, not looking away from Patrick as he does, ”I can’t believe I don’t have anything to say to the guy that fucked my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Both you and Patrick ask sharply, opposing tones of shock and amusement blending together.

Art's eyes narrow, a storm brewing in the blue of them. He’s still looking at Patrick, talking about you like you’re not sitting right in front of him. "Yeah, my girlfriend. Did I stutter?" His chest is puffed out just enough for you to notice, his mouth pulled down at the corners in a deep frown.

You blink, caught off guard. Art’s never asked you to go steady with him, you’ve never even been on a date. Unless you count fucking in the back of his jeep at a drive in theater a date, then sure, you’ve been on one date. Regardless, the possessive timbre of his voice has something warm simmering under your skin.

Patrick laughs, loud and abrasive. “Well, this is fucking news to me,” he says through a chuckle, eyes flicking between the two of you bemusedly, “I didn’t realize you guys were playing house, but that does makes a lot more sense now.” He gestures to your chest with his free hand, pointing out the dark blue sweatshirt you’re wearing.

‘Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy’ is stitched across the front in thin black thread; you'd stolen it from Art’s closet when you slept over at his dorm a few nights ago. He never asked for it back.

“It’s cute that you kept my shirt, Donaldson.” Patrick teases, lolling his head to the side lazily so he can look at Art through his lashes. A plume of smoke billows from between his lips, slipping through the open window slowly. “Even after you tried to turn my girlfriend against me and fucked her behind my back first–”

“Fuck you, Patrick–” Art starts, face twisted in a scowl. His hands ball into fists at his side, jaw ticking with anger.

Patrick doesn’t look deterred, leaning forward in his chair as he tries to talk over Art, “You’re such a fucking hypocrite–”

“I’m not anyone’s girlfriend,” you cut them both off, brows drawn together in frustration, “—and I’m not going to let this turn into some weird pissing contest between you two. We’re here to talk.”

Art scoffs agitatedly, casting his eyes to the ceiling. “Looks like the two of you have done plenty of talking without me,” he says bitterly. “Do you get off on this shit or something? On sticking your dick where it doesn’t fucking belong?”

Patrick smirks, leaning back in his chair, arms draped lazily over the armrests. “God, you really do think you’re innocent in this,” he laughs incredulously, leaning back in his chair. “You’re acting like you’ve got some moral high ground, but you don’t. You’re just as guilty of playing the game as I am.”

Art’s face darkens further, anger threatening to boil over. “This isn’t a game to me, Patrick,” he spits, tone hard and low, “I’m so sick of you treating everything like a goddamn joke.”

Patrick’s smirk doesn’t falter. “I never said it was a joke,” he says with a shrug, tone easy and nonchalant. “I’m just saying, maybe you should take a good look in the mirror before you start pointing fucking fingers. I’m not the only one who’s played dirty here.”

“Patrick–” you warn, sitting up straighter. You can feel the way the air changes, the way the animosity gets turned up. The last thing you need is for them to start throwing punches.

Art cuts you off, shaking his head in contempt. “You’re so full of shit. You don’t fucking care about her. You never did. You just want to win, because you can’t stand the thought of losing to me.”

Patrick groans loudly, throwing his head back with it. “We’re really going back to this again? Jesus Christ, give it up man. It’s not like she was ever really yours to begin with.” He takes another slow drag from his cigarette, eyes never leaving Art.

The jab hits its mark, you can see it on Art’s face. In the way he physically recoils, the way he takes a ragged breath through his nose, the way the muscles of his jaw work furiously. For the first time since you fucked Patrick, you feel like a fucking bitch. The familiar feeling of guilt wraps its tendrils around you, weighing you down into the mattress like a physical force.

It gives you an idea, the guilt. It's a filthy idea, one that has heat stirring between your legs at just the thought. It’s a good way to make this whole situation up to Art, a good way to let him get under Patrick’s skin the same way he’s getting under his.

You sit in the angry silence, gears slowly turning in your head as you look between your boys. You should have known that this wasn't going to work, clearly just talking isn’t getting the three of you anywhere.

You sigh, overly dramatic and long suffering, scooting down until your legs are hanging over the edge of the mattress. Art and Patrick watch you the entire time, eyes finally leaving each other to watch your hands settle on the hem of Patrick’s sweatshirt.

“You guys are being so difficult. Why did I think that you could behave enough to talk this out like big boys?” You tug it off in one swift move, tossing it to the side carelessly. Two sharp gasps ring out, two sets of greedy eyes roam the bare expanse of your torso. You hadn’t worn a bra today.

You smirk, standing from the mattress and hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your sweats. You push them down your legs slowly, making a show of it until you're only in the pair of light purple panties you slipped on this morning. Patrick smirks, flicking his cigarette butt out the window and yanking it closed. He goes to stand, Art pointedly takes a single threatening step forward as he does but you stop both of them in their tracks. 

“No.” Your voice rings through the small room, loud and commanding. Patrick sits back down almost immediately, his brow raising in confusion. Art does the same, freezing with one foot in front of him. They’re both hard, cocks tenting the fabric of their bottoms. Their boners point towards each other, you bite your lip to hide your smile. 

“You’ve been so bad, Ricky.” you scold softly, voice syrupy sweet as you lean back on the bed. “Dressed up like an easy whore in here waiting for us, being so mean to Art, fucking his girl…” You trail off boredly, palms braced flat on the bed behind you so you can lean back as casually as you can muster. You let your legs fall open, spread enough to let Patrick and Art see the wet spot slowly seeping into the fabric.

You can hear Art’s sharp inhale from across the room at your words, his girl. You’re still careful not to say girlfriend, that’s a whole other talk. Patrick squirms in his chair, practically itching with the need to say something. You level him with a hard look, a firm shake of your head keeps him quiet. When you finally turn your attention to Art, he meets your gaze easily, eyes already blown out and glassy. Even from here you can see the way his pupils swallow the pretty blue color.

You smile, lips curling up in a wicked smile. “Art,” you coo softly, reaching your hand out in offering, “come here.” 

Art’s walking towards you without a second thought, crossing the room in just a few large steps. You smile at him, patting the spot next to you. The bed creaks as he sits down, the mattress dipping under his weight slides you closer to him. ”I think,” you say slowly, resting your hand high up on his thigh, so close to the hard line of his cock straining against the fabric, “that we need to teach Patrick a lesson on manners.”

“What! No fucking way, that’s bullshi–” Patrick fusses from the corner, sitting up straighter in seat, the armrest gripped tight in his left hand.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap, whipping your head to the side to glare at him. “This isn’t about you.”

He frowns, pushing out his bottom lip like an actual child. You just barely fight the urge to roll your eyes, an evil smile spreading across your face as you watch him honest-to-God pout.

“This is about Art,” you slide your hand up higher, cupping him through his loose shorts. You can hear his sharp intake of breath, a quiet ‘fuck’ falls from his lips as you apply more pressure to where your hand is steadily rubbing him up and down. “Plus, you’re already in the cuck chair,” you aren’t able to stop the small chuckle that falls from your lips, “you’ve got a perfect view.”

His pink lips part ever so slightly, eyes going wide and hungry at your words. You throw him one last devilish smile before you’re sinking to your knees in front of the bed. The scratchy carpet digs into your knees but you don’t care, not when Art is towering in front of you with the ceiling lights shining around him like he’s an angel.

You smile up at him, dragging the palms of your hands up and down his thighs. “Take your shirt off,” you encourage, slipping your hands up to toy with the hem of his shorts.

He complies beautifully, pulling his shirt up and over his head and tossing it aside, revealing the lean, toned muscles of his torso. You let your eyes linger on him for a moment, appreciating the sight before returning your attention to your task. Your fingers deftly undo the drawstring of his shorts, and start tugging them down. Art lifts his hips enough for you to drag them all the way down his legs, taking his boxers with them to free his hard cock.

Again, you slide your hands up the bare skin of his thighs, inches away from where he wants them. He’s so hard, cock standing straight up in an angry red line against his stomach. The tip drools pre-cum that leaks down the length of him slowly.

Art's breath hitches, his eyes locked onto you with a mix of anticipation and desperation. Your fingers brush lightly over his upper thighs, before you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, feeling the heat of his arousal pulse against your palm. His gasp is sharp, and you silently revel in the power you hold over him in this moment.

You glance over at Patrick, who is staring wide-eyed, his earlier irritation replaced with a raw, unfiltered hunger.

Your lips curl into a smug smile at the sight of his flushed cheeks and the way his chest rises and falls with each heavy breath. “See something you like, Patrick?” you taunt, giving Art a slow, deliberate stroke that has him groaning softly. Patrick’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenching, but he stays silent, his gaze locked on the two of you.

Art's hands grip the sheets beneath him, his knuckles turning white. "Fuck," he breathes out, his voice strained, "you're killing me."

You laugh softly, a dark, melodic sound, and lean forward, letting your tongue flick out to taste the bead of precum at the tip of his cock. Art moans, the sound vibrating through you. You glance up at him through your lashes, seeing the way his head tilts back, his eyes half-lidded in pleasure.

You slide your lips up the length of his leaking cock, teasing and slow. Art stares down at you, not breaking eye contact as he breathes raggedly through his nose.

“Tell him how it feels,” you whisper against the pink tip of his cock, sliding it back and forth across your lips teasingly. Art swallows hard, skin flushing in embarrassment.

“So good…” he whispers, eyes still locked onto yours. His blush goes from his cheeks all the way down to his chest, spreading pink and warm across the strong muscle of his pecs.

You smile, shaking your head softly. “Don’t tell me, tell him.” You jerk your head in Patrick’s direction once before you sink down until your nose is nestled against the soft blonde hair at the base of his cock, working your throat around the length of him. 

Art moans loudly, his hands coming up to tangle into your hair. You keep going, fighting his grip on you as you start to bob your head over his cock in a steady rhythm, working your hand in time with your mouth.

He forces himself to look at Patrick, catching his eyes.

Patrick looks fucked, lips slick and dropped open as he stares back Art, hungry gaze not wavering. His cock is still hard, pressed against the seam of his boxers and leaking a steady patch of wetness around the head. 

A silent challenge seems to pass between the two of them.

We doing this or what?

Art refuses to back down, hardening his resolve. “Feels so fucking good,” he groans, not looking away from Patrick, “her throat’s so tight, so– God, it’s so good. Best I’ve ever had.”

He’s rambling, not even making any sense but you hum in approval all the same, your tongue curling around the crown. Patrick doesn’t look like he minds too much either, pink tongue coming out to swipe along his bottom lip. "Please," he whispers, almost too quiet to hear. "Let me..."

You pull off Art with a wet pop, turning your head as best you can with his hand still tangled in your hair to fix Patrick with a steely gaze. "You don't get to make requests," you say, your voice hard. "You get to watch and learn."

Patrick's eyes darken, his lips pressing into a thin line, but he doesn't protest. Art lets out a low growl, his hand tightening its grip on your hair and dragging your mouth back to his cock.

“Stop fucking talking to him,” he demands, hips thrusting to fuck back into your mouth. You choke on the sudden fullness, wetness floods your panties as you moan around him.

Yes, you think, eyes squeezing close as you force your throat to relax around his cock, this is what I wanted.

You were waiting to see how long it’d take Art to snap, he lasted longer than you thought he would. The head of his cock punches against the soft, spongy part at the back of your throat. You fight to not gag around him, hands scrambling for purchase on his thighs. His balls slap against your chin roughly, sticking wetly to the drool that's starting to fall from the corners of your lips.

Art meets Patrick’s eye again, a smug smirk on his face as he jerks his head in a clear invitation, “Come here.” He grunts simply, dragging you up and down the length of his cock by his tight grip on your hair.

Patrick practically sprints from the chair, ripping his shirt off while he tries to kick his boxers off before he reaches the bed. He sits next to Art, chest heaving as he stares down at where your lips stretched obscenely over his best friend's cock. 

Art pulls you off by your hair, holding your face a few inches away from his spit covered cock. He tuts at you sympathetically, tilting his head to the side with a tiny frown at the sight of you all teary eyed. “Bet you feel real empty, right?” he asks sadly, shaking your head back and forth like a dog. “That greedy pussy wants our cocks stretching her open, doesn't she?”

You whine loudly, nodding your head as best you can as the meaning of Art’s words sink over you. You feel far away, like you’ve already been fucked six ways to Sunday. You cunt clenches around nothing, aching for Art and Patrick’s cocks bullying their way inside you. You’ve never done anything like that before, taken two guys at once, but God do you need it.

Art nods back, brows pulled together in faux pity. “Pat and I will help baby,” he says sweetly, “You just gotta get nice and stretched out first, need to fuck yourself open on Patrick’s cock so you can take us.”

“Fuck yeah,” Patrick breathes, already moving up the bed to lay flat on his back agasint the pillows. His cock sticking straight out from his body, pointing to the ceiling desperately.

Art lets go of your hair, cupping the side of your face tenderly. His thumb rubs against the soft skin of your cheekbone a few times, you know it’s a question. 

Do you want this?

You smile, nuzzling his palm and giving his thumb a playful nip. The answer to his question written all over your face.

Fuck yes.

Art smiles back, nodding his head once. You take the hint, rising from your knees to climb onto the mattress. You slide your panties off, tossing them aside as you crawl up the length of Patrick’s body, straddling his hips and wasting no time in sinking down on his cock.

Art settles next to the two of you, hand loosely gripped around his cock as he starts to lazily stroke himself to the sight of you and Patrick.

“Fuck!” Patrick hisses, his hands coming up to grip your hips fiercely as you start to ride him, not giving either of you anytime to adjust. The stretch burns, the lack of prepping before hand makes it sting. You don’t mind, too worked up to care. 

“God, you’re such a fucking slut,” He tries, but you cut him off bringing your free hand to wrap around the column of his throat just like he did to you back in the shower.

“You’re the slut,” you growl, fingers digging into his skin roughly. His eyes widen, plush lips going slack. You speed your hips up, the loud smack each time you drop down onto him echoes through the room. “You’re the easy fucking whore that soaked your panties watching your best friend fuck my throat."

Art huffs out a breath, hand slipping over his cock faster as he watches you ride Patrick. His eyes are trained on the way your hand is wrapped against Patrick’s throat. He slips his free hand down, pressing two fingers against Patrick’s cock so you slide down onto them on the next bounce.

“Fuck!” You keen loudly, grip tightening on Patrick’s throat. Art’s fingers add to the sting of your cunt, but your hips don’t stop moving, even as he slips in a third just as fast.

You get lost in it, in the feeling of Patrick’s dick fucking into you so deeply you swear he’s hitting your cervix with every roll of your hips, Art’s fingers stretching you that much wider.

Suddenly, Art drops his cock so his free hand can latch onto your hips, his strong grip forcing you to stop your desperate bouncing. His fingers slip out of you, you immediately miss the stretch.

Patrick groans in displeasure, his hips buck up like he’s trying to slide back into the warmth of your fucked open cunt. His leaking head bumps against your sensitive clit a few times before Art’s dropping his hand down, gripping Patrick’s cock to line it up with his own.

Art slides up behind you, his sweaty chest pressing firmly against your back. “Should be stretched out enough,” He whispers into the nape of your neck, pressing both tips against your fluttering hole.

The shock of it has your hand slipping off Patrick’s throat to anchor onto his shoulders in a feeble attempt to brace yourself. He sucks in large gasps of air, chest heaving as he stares down to where his cock is pressed snug against Art’s, his hand big enough to almost wrap around them both. He throws his head back against the pillows, eyes screwed shut, “Fuck, I can’t watch,” he gasps, voice low and ragged. 

Art laughs smugly, but it’s breathy around the edges and you can feel the way his hand shakes on your hip. “Close already, Pat?” He asks condescendingly, as his fingers dig in a little tighter. “You’re not even doing any of the work.”  

You try to focus on the sensation of Art’s grip, but your mind is a haze of overstimulation and the throb of Patrick’s cock against you. Art’s mocking tone sends a shiver down your spine, making you acutely aware of how close you are to the edge yourself. Your greedy cunt clenches around them, trying to suck them in you.

Patrick’s breath stutters, his hips jerking up involuntarily, making a strangled noise that’s half-groan, half-whimper. “Fuck you, man,” he manages to grind out, but his voice is trembling and strained, the bite in his tone gets undercut by how wrecked he sounds. You can feel the barely there twitches of his hips, like he’s physically pained from having to wait any longer.

A sharp cry rips from your throat as they finally start to slide in, both heads popping into your tight hole all at once. Your eyes screw shut at the stretch, thighs shaking where they’re spread over Patrick’s hips.

“Someone kiss me,” you gasp desperately, chin lowering to your chest. Art’s moving before the words finish leaving your mouth, gripping a fistful of Patrick’s hair and dragging him up to your lips. You whine into his mouth, letting his tongue slide between your lips to claim your mouth.

The familiar feeling of his lips on yours relaxes you the tiniest bit, letting Art lower you down a few more inches. It feels like hours as you sink onto them, Art’s big hands gently massaging your hips while Patrick’s greedy fingers pull and paw at your thighs.

It’s the quietest you’ve ever heard Patrick. His lips going slack in awe against yours as Art’s cock slides up next to his, moaning into your mouth when your hips go flush with his.

They feel so huge inside you, so thick you swear you can feel them in your stomach. Bullying your insides into making more room for the both of them.

“Fuck," you gasp, nails digging little crescent moons into Patrick’s shoulders. Every inch of you is alive with sensation, a burning mix of pleasure and pain. Art’s breath is hot and ragged against your ear, whispering sweet encouragements, “It’s okay baby, you’re okay, taking us so fucking good–” 

You nod, slowly starting to grind your hips back and forth, gasping when they rub up against the soft spot inside of you that has you clenching in pleasure– practically choking them off at the base. A high moan falls from your lips, hips swirling the tiniest bit faster that have both Art and Patrick growl out matching groans of approval.

“Just like that,” Art whispers into your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “Gonna make him come first, or are you gonna beat him to it?” The challenge in his voice sends a jolt of heat through you, your thighs starting to shake with every pass of them over that spot.

“God, ah! Art– fuck, mh, Patrick–” You slur, head already starting to go fuzzy

“Fuck,” Art gasps out your name sharply, pushing you down onto Patrick’s chest so he can start fucking into your loose, sloppy cunt. “God, you’re so fucking tight,” his hand grips the back of your neck to pin you down, throwing all his strength behind the snap of his hips.

“Shit, look at you,” Patrick chuckles weakly pinching your hips hard, trying to seem less affected than he really is. “You’re so fucking gone. All that attitude needs is some dick to fix it, huh?”

You crack your eyes open, blearily searching until you zero in on his face. He’s smiling smugly, eyes blown out and hazy.

“Shut the fuck up,” you spit weakly, raising your hand to shove your index and middle finger between his parted lips. You push back far enough to feel his throat constricting against your fingers, letting him gag on you. Your eyes trace the side of his face, down the slope of his nose to where his cherry red lips are lewdly spread around your fingers. 

You can distantly hear Art groan behind you, his hips speeding up impossibly faster. His hand squeezes your neck, fingers digging into your sensitive skin meanly. You hook your fingers behind Patrick’s teeth, dragging his face to the side to meet your eye. Patrick moans around your fingers, gazing at you pleading through half lidded eyes. Drool leaks from the corners of his mouth and down his chin, drenching your wrist. His hot, wet tongue sliding along the pads of your fingers feels scalding.

Patrick's hands are everywhere, pulling, pinching, caressing, his touch a maddening mix of rough and tender. The feeling of him inside you, alongside Art, is almost too much to bear, making you gasp for breath. Your moans are a symphony of pleasure and desperation, each one a plea for more, more, more the closer you get the edge.

“Shit, ah, Art, ah!” Your feet scrabbled uselessly against the sheets, the fingers of your free hand twist Patrick’s hair roughly. “I’m gonna come— Mm, ah! I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” Art goads, the rhythm of his hips not faltering, “Come on baby– fuck yeah– fucking soak these dicks–”

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you come, your vision whites out around you as the entire world shrinks down to the stretch of your gushing cunt around Art and Patrick. The slight burn of them, the fullness, the unrelenting pace of Art’s hips stinging the skin of your ass on each thrust. 

Patrick bites down on your fingers with a broken whine just as Art sinks his teeth into your neck, both of them groaning so loud it’s all you can hear. That and the faulty rhythm of Art’s hips snapping against the meat of your ass in loud ‘cracks’. 

They come together, and you can feel it.

You can feel every twitch and jerk of their cocks inside you as they spray the walls of your cunt with their releases. Spurt after spurt of hot come claiming you as theirs, filling you to the brim. Art doesn’t stop, working the three of you through your orgasms. Each thrust fucks more of their come out of you, the lewd squelch of it leaking from of your loose hole to gather around the base of their cocks in two matching creamy rings makes your ears burn.

Just as it gets to be too much, when the pleasure starts to give way into biting overstimulation, Art stops. You’re slumped against Patrick, shaking like a leaf when Art starts to pull out as gently as he can. You hiss when the head of his cock slips out, thighs clenching together.

“Sorry,” he whispers sweetly, giving your shoulder a gentle kiss. He practically man handles you off of Patrick’s cock, lifting your hips up and off of him.

Patrick groans, stomach twitching in oversensitivity as your slick walls slide against his spent dick. Finally he slips out, his drenched cock falling to slap onto his stomach. There come rushes out of you, dripping sticky and thick down your inner thighs. 

There’s sweat dripping down your temple when you fall onto the mattress, your back sticks to the sheets but you’re too out of it to care. Art collapses next to you, sandwiching you between him and Patrick. The three of you are quiet, chests heaving as you catch your breath. Patrick’s hairy thigh is pressed to yours, firm and toned. Art’s got an arm slung over your waist, his breath puffs hot against your neck.

“It doesn’t have to be one or the other,” you say breathlessly, voice raspy and hoarse. “It could work. We could make it work, the three of us.”

Art and Patrick are quiet, their silence heavy with contemplation. You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling, more nervous bringing this up than you thought you’d be. The room is filled with the sounds of your collective breaths, mingling with the lingering scent of sweat and sex.

Patrick chuckles, you can feel his curls brushing against your shoulder as he shakes his head in dry amusement. "Yeah, because everything about this screams 'healthy relationship,'" he quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Art lets out a soft, exasperated sigh, his grip on your waist tightening just a little. "We don't have to decide anything right now," he says, his voice low and steady. "Let's just...see where this goes."

You feel a rush of relief at his words, but Patrick’s hesitancy still gnaws at the edges of your mind. Patrick shifts beside you, his hand skirting lightly over your arm in a rare moment of tenderness.

"Guess we're in uncharted territory, huh?" he murmurs, his tone uncharacteristically serious. 

You laugh, finally daring to glance at both of them, a tentative smile forming on your lips. "Yeah, but maybe that's not such a bad thing."

Art and Patrick look back at you with matching grins wide enough to show their teeth, blonde and black hair fanning around their faces like halo’s under the room’s shitty fluorescent light. Your heart swells under the intense stare of two pairs of eyes, one blue and one green. You can feel the room start to fade away until it’s just the three of you and nothing else seems to matter.

Art leans down, giving your right shoulder a quick kiss. “If we’re doing this, we have to be honest with each other.” He looks between you and Patrick pointedly, but he’s still smiling. “No more bullshit games.”

Patrick snorts, letting his head fall back onto the pillows, “Yes sir.” 

You nod, not bothering to hide your smile. "No bullshit, no games," you agree, moving to squeeze Art's hand. He squeezes back in a silent promise.

The three of you lie there in a comfortable silence, the weight of your decision settling over you. It's definitely not going to be easy, but maybe, just maybe, it could work.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[lancestrollsgf]

# THE BETTER NORRIS ! F1 GRID X ADOPTED NORRIS! READER, SMAU (2)

introduction master list request list

part one, part two, part three.

# WARNINGS: cussing, i know nothing about the parents of lando so everything is fictional. reader speaks spanish!! lowercase intended, spelling errors (english isn't my first language). lando's actual siblings are not featured in this since I don't know anything about them. hate comments towards reader and ollie. excessive usage of emojis such as "🙄, 🤫, 🤣,😝, 😭,😊,😉”.

# SUMMARY: the adventures of the formula one driver lando norris adopted sibling, y/n norris.

# AUTHOR’S NOTE: thank you so much for the support on the first part (it’s insane love yall sm). so here is part two, hooray!!! here is part one!!! lowkey worried this isn’t gonna be as good as the first part i'm so sorry 😭😭 this is way shorter because the timeline is until before the hungarian gp so there isn’t much to post about (there will be a part three 🤫🤫) btw for the sake of the story ollie attends all the grand prixs (at least from this point foward). excuse. more in-depth reason this is short is because i started writing this july 11 and i didn’t expect the first part to get that many likes so i only came up with ideas up until after the british grand prix. the next part will have all 9 posts and not only 5 😘

# FACE CLAIM: marian guevara/theatomicbomb on instagram and tiktok

— instagram !

liked by landonorris, lancestroll, lawerence_stroll, and 1,284,820 others

thebetternorris thank you so much, @.astonmartinf1 for the invite to the british grand prix, my home grand prix. i’m so grateful for the gift, thank you @lawerence_stroll 💚. congrats to @.landonorris for p3 and congrats to @.lancestroll for p7 😝😝 👤: @.landonorris, @.lancestroll, @.tommyhilfiger @.astonmartinf1

astonmartinf1: thank you y/n for coming to our garage!! loved having you there 💚

-> mclaren: you better have enjoyed this grand prix because next one we’re keeping y/n.

-> thebetternorris: guys dw there’s enough of me to go around 😏😏

username42: y/n rizzing up the admins is crazy 😭

landonorris: did you really have to use that picture of me. i look horrible.

-> thebetternorris: you always look horrible 🙄🙄

lancestroll: still can’t believe my dad actually got you something.

-> thebetternorris: time to make room for me in the family 🤫🤫

fernando_alooficial: gracias por venir y apoyarnos y/n 💚 (thank you for coming and supporting us y/n)

-> thebetternorris: de nada fernando, tu eres mi idolo 🥹🥹 felicidades con p8 💚 (you’re welcome fernando, you’re my idol 🥹🥹 congrats with p8 💚)

lawerence_stroll: lovely meeting you y/n, hope you enjoyed my gift

-> thebetternorris: thank you so much for the gift, lovely meeting you too mr.stroll

-> lawerence_stroll: @thebetternorris please call me lawerence

-> thebetternorris: @.lancestroll your dad likes me more than you

-> lancestroll: @thebetternorris just because he let you call him by his first name doesn't mean get likes you more 🙄 it’s not like he bought you an f1 team

-> thebetternorris: @.lancestroll you're so sassy...

username43: lance's reply being “it’s not like he bought you an f1 team” IS SO FUNNY LMFAOOO

username44: lance and y/n acting like siblings 😭

-> thebetternorris: @lawerence_stroll please adopt me

username45: y/n is so pretty

username46: why did lawerence gift y/n something from tommy hilfiger?

-> username47: im guessing its because he invests in tommy hilfiger

username48: how come aston martin invited her to her home grand prix but not mclaren?

-> mclaren: unfortunately we sent the invitation too late

-> astonmartinf1: @.mclaren finder keepers looser weepers 😝

username49: even though y/n is one of the driver's siblings they still sent the invitation late LMFAO

-> mclaren: we wouldn't have had to sent an invite if "someone..." hadn't told y/n so late.

-> landonorris: @.mclaren I DIDN'T KNOW SHE WOULD GET AN INVITE FROM ANOTHER TEAM 😞

username50: the mclaren admin trying to clear their name ✊🏼

-> mclaren: i’m trying my best 😞

username51: y/n giving unseen photos of lance and lando

username52: y/n’s camera is probably full of unseen photos of drivers we may never see 😔

-> thebetternorris: 🤫🤫

-> username53: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN??

username54: y/n calling it her home grand prix 🥹

zhouguanyu24: thank you for the keychain and the toy for sweet corn 😁

-> thebetternorris: of course!! 😊

username55: lance and lando an underrated duo

view all 9,921 comments

july 7, 2024

liked by landonorris, itsyoungmiko, olliebearman, and 1,402,027 others

thebetternorris parties in london go crazyy 🍾👤: @.itsyoungmiko, @.arcangel, @.friend1, @.friend2

itsyoungmiko: it was lovely meeting you twin 😈

-> thebetternorris: lovely meeting you too 😘

landonorris: do you just take photos with random people.

-> friend1: lando we've met before...

-> thebetternorris: don't talk about my twin young miko like that 😡

arcangle: loved partying with you norris!!

landonorris: you’re finally partying at home and not in the burger land😒

-> thebetternorris: BURGER LAND???

-> landonorris: the united states or whatever 🙄

username56: two posts in one day omg???

username57: y/n and young miko do look so much alike omg 🤨

olliebearman: it was lovely meeting you y/n

-> thebetternorris: hi ollie, it was great meeting you too 😆 congrats on your haas contract 🤫🤫

-> olliebearman: thank you! 😊

username58: y/n and ollie interacting???

username59: is no one gonna mention that y/n and ollie were in the same place??

username60: can y/n drink? i thought she was too young..

-> username61: she is too young. she’s only seventeen, but even then why are you assuming she’s drinking 😟?

username62: a sneak peak of the photo's y/n has in her camera

view all 3,939 comments

july 7, 2024

— instagram stories !

thebetternorris and olliebearman added to stories

replies to thebetternorris story

landonorris replied to your story: WHO IS THIS??? TAKE THAT SMILEY FACE OFF AND COME BACK HOME.

lewishamilton replied to your story: is this what you call soft launching?

oscarpiastri replied to your story: please answer lando’s messages. he’s been pacing back and forth for the past ten minutes.

username63 replied to your story: Y/N IS THAT A GUY???

username64 replied to your story: YOU’RE SOFT LAUNCHING??

pepemartiofficial replied to your story: quén es?

username65 replied to your story: you’re such an artist 😻

replies to olliebearman story:

charles_leclerc replied to your story: son, are you dating a girl?

kimi.antonelli replied to your story: mate. you didn’t tell me you were going to the beach today? you didn’t even invite me 😞

arthur_leclerc replied to your story: 🤨

username66 replied to your story: IS THAT A GIRLL? OLLIEEE

username67 replied to your story: since when did you take such aesthetic photos?

username68 replied to your story: soft lauching omg??

view more messages

july 8, 2024

— instagram !

liked by thebetternorris, charles_leclerc, and 392,921 others

olliebearman got to drive an f1 car in silverstone 👍🏼

username69: i’m sobbing, he’s so cute 😭😭

charles_leclerc: so proud, congrats ollie 👍🏼

-> olliebearman: thank you dad! 👍🏼

-> username70: i can see where ollie got his thumbs up from. LMAO

thebetternorris: a thumbs up is such a dad move

-> olliebeaman: compliment or?

-> thebetternorris: compliment ofc ☺️

-> olliebearman: oh okay then, thank you y/n :)

username71: ollie has rizz???

username72: going from a ferrari reserve driver to a haas f1 driver is such a downgrade 😬

-> thebetternorris: you’re saying that as if you can even drive a formula one car ever 🤣

-> username73: HELLO??? y/n defending ollie 🫣🫣

username74: HIS EYES ARE SO CUTE 😔😔

username75: a semi F1 car

-> thebetternorris: more than you’ll ever achieve. bullying a eighteen year old at 26 years old is embarrassing.

-> username76: Y/N DEFENDING OLLIE 😍😍

username77: i can't wait to see ollie every race week

username78: y/n defending ollie is so cute

view all 500 comments

COMMENTS ON THIS POST HAVE BEEN LIMITED.

july 9th, 2024

liked by landonorris, olliebearman, lilyzneimer, and 826,281 others

y/n.jpg surprise, new account 🤭 very first post is a photo dump, from beach day 🌊☀️ 07/08/24

landonorris: copycat 😒😒 be original for once. same username and everything

-> y/n.jpg: 🙄🙄

landonorris: WAIT A MINUTE. WHAT IS THAT THIRD PHOTO. Y/N NORRIS. WHO IS THAT???

-> y/n.jpg: 😜

-> landonorris: Y/N NORRIS. WHERE ARE YOU.

username80: y/n’s first post on her jpg account is a soft launch. this has got to be a halluaction.

username81: if someone told me that y/n would make a jpg account and soft launch a guy. i would never believe you.

username82: the second picture is so cute 😭

username83: the difference in the two comments lando commented. LMFAOO

-> username84: i’m guessing he commented “copycat” before seeing the photos and then commented the second one 🤣🤣

username85: two of the norris siblings have a jpg account that’s so cute

username86: ollie in the likes 🤨

lilyzneimer: you're so pretty

-> thebetternorris: thank u lily, love u

username87: both ollie and y/n posted about being at the beach the night after they met..

-> username88: nah you guys are reaching..

oscarpiastri: y/n please. don't do this rn 😭

-> thebetternorris: 🤫🤫

username89: you guys are assuming that y/n is with everyone leave her alone 😭😭

olliebearman: should i make a jpg account too?

-> thebetternorris: yes you should!! i can help u make it if you would like 🤫

-> olliebearman: ah yes that would be helpful 😁

username90: y’all won’t even let y/n be friends with the opposite gender before immediately shipping them together

username91: everyone saying that we're reaching and what not. but what about the comment between y/n and ollie… 🤨🤨

username92: the third photo looks a little similar to the one ollie posted on his story; the same day. 🫣

username93: there’s definitely gonna be something happening between the ollie and y/n because why else would she defend him in his own comments

view all 11,191 comments

july 11th, 2024

liked by olliebearman, landonorris, lewishamilton, and 947,829 others

y/n.jpg digital camera photos from silverstone 💫 lando taking a little nap in the fourth photo 😴 btw congrats on your win lewis 😉. 👤: @.landonorris, @.oscarpiastri, @.roscoelovescoco, @ciscawuaman, @adam_norris_pure_electric, @lewishamilton

username93: i love y/n for giving us unseen photos

username94: oscar doing a shoey 🤔

-> thebetternorris: ik right disgusting 🤢

-> oscarpiastri: @thebetternorris hey. i didn’t like it anymore that you did.

-> username94: OSCAR AND Y/N REPLYING TO MY COMMENT. THIS ISN’T REAL.

roscoelovescoco: 🤍🤍

-> thebetternorris: ROSCOEE

username95: oh to be photographed on y/n’s camera and posted on her account 😞

-> thebetternorris: i just dm’ed you!!

-> username96: @.username95 well tell us, what did she dm you omg???

-> username95: @.username96 she gave me tickets to the next gp 😭😭😭 i’m distraught rn ���🥹

-> username97: @.username95 HELLO??? FREE TICKETS???

lewishamilton: thank u for the congrats y/n 🩵

-> thebetternorris: of courseee 😉

username98: these photos are so cute omg 💔

thebetternorris: do you guys see how @.landonorris replaces me with another kid 💔 guess i’m not his favorite nor youngest sibling anymore 😞

-> landonorris: y/n. i don’t think mom or dad could or want to adopt another kid especially after dealing with you.

-> thebetternorris: MOMMM 😭😭😭 @ciscawuaman

-> cisacawuaman: @.landonorris please. you may be right but don’t comment this on the internet. @thebetternorris we love you y/n, i would adopt you all over again and as many times i could 😘

username99: y/n is literally living every formula one fan’s dream 😖

-> username98: considering she is literally lando’s sister she’s been living the life since day one 😭

username100: THE FIRST PHOTO HELLO??? 😍

francisca.cgomes: hii y/n! it was lovely meeting you. are you going to the next gp? i would love to hang out with you ☺️

-> y/n.jpg: hi kika 😁, yes i will be!! i loved meeting you, you’re the sweetest, i would love to hang out with you too ☺️

username101: y/n is genuinely so pretty omg 🫣

landonorris: don’t think this is distracting me from the post you made previously..

-> thebetternorris: 🤫🤫

username102: i was at the grand prix and seeing y/n on the fan stage was so surreal.

username103: i met y/n at the grand prix and she got my hat signed by both oscar and lando, she’s so sweet 😭😭😭

-> username104: stop me too. she got all of my mclaren stuff signed by them 🥹🥹

username105: i met y/n and when i asked her to sign my shirt she was so shocked it was so precious 😞

view all 10,829 comments

july 12, 2024

comment to be tagged in the next part. (pls mention if you wanna be added to my general taglist or just this series taglist)

taglist: @yawn-zi @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @d3kstar @inejghafawifesblog @azeal-peal @hadids-world @sumlovesjude @poppyflower-22 @formulaonebuff @bloodyymaryyy @kodzuvk @matchalyne @ynnasaint @morsstuff @2pagenumb @velentine @keii134 @deepeststarlightmoon @wobblymug @xoscar03 @raizelchrysanderoctavius (if you are tagged here, i will mostly likely tag you again in the third part)

READ PLEASE/URGENT: hello!! thank you so much for the support on this story. just wanted to share some links about the crisis/situation in venezuela. an undeniable cause of election fraud is happening in venezuela, spread awareness. how to help refugees near you. explanation of the situation. donate/help families forced to flee. the reason i’m sharing this is because the face claim for this story is from venezuela, but furthermore because the situation in venezuela is not being publicized enough. even just sharing these links will do a lot. sadly, i could not find any more links other than those three.

[ayochae]

𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | 𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

Synopsis: needy service top winter? well, yes!

Pairing: top! minjeong x bottom! fem reader

Genre: lovey dovey needy morning sex lmfao

Themes: fingering, cunnilingus, shower sex.

T/W: none <3

WC: 1.8k

a/n: omgggg im sorry ive been so dead these last couple weeks :((( writers block has been kicking my ass, like it took me AGESSS to write this... embarrasing i know pffttsfsffgdgf... anyway guys feel free to spam my inbox with thoughts and drabble ideas!! i need inspo to get me back into writing :0 i hope you enjoy needy winter as much as i do teehee!! <3

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

You were suddenly awoken from a peaceful dream, the sound of your alarm cutting it short. Being a shift leader at work meant getting up early, which you always hated. Time and time again, you regretted your decision to keep this job. Early mornings were one of the many things you disliked about the job. And you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with your gorgeous girlfriend, who began to stir from the abrupt sound. 

“Sorry baby,” you whispered, shutting the alarm off quickly. Minjeong worked the closing shift, which meant late nights and blissful sleep-ins. Despite the trouble of waking up early, having her sleepy self beside you made it all worthwhile. Getting to pepper soft kisses on her even softer cheeks and watching a small smile blossom on her lips gave you a reason to get up in the morning. 

Begrudgingly, you got a move on, moving the blanket to the side to shift yourself to the edge of the bed. Your efforts were put to a halt when a pair of arms wrapped loosely around your waist. 

“Good morning,” Minjeong drawled, clearly still half asleep. 

"Morning,” you hummed, turning back to face your girlfriend. She sat up with bleary eyes and a fuzzy smile, her hair messily framing her face. Minjeong closes the gap between you two, pecking gently at your bottom lip before kissing you fully. Her delicate affections cause butterflies, feeling the smile curl at the corner of your lips as she kisses you.

Needy hands dance across the skin of your thighs, making their way between your legs. Her fingertips gliding past the fabric, stroking at your wet heat. 

“Jeongie…” you moaned out

“I have to get ready for work,” you murmur, wishing that wasn’t true.

“I know baby,” she hummed against your lips.

“Let me take care of you," she spoke, moving to trail kisses down your neck. She plants a kiss on your collarbone before shimmying down the bed, making her way between your thighs. You watch as she undresses you with ease, your eyes fluttering closed as all arguments fade from your mind. 

Minjeong adored your body. She loved the warmth you radiated and the softness of your skin. She nibbled and sucked on your inner thigh, using her mouth to show her admiration. Your hands carded through her chestnut hair as she worked her magic.

She licks a slow stroke over your folds, earning a jolt from you in response. You feel her giggle against your heat as she deepens the length of her tongue, plunging inside you. Her tongue was warm and soft against your skin, the sensation sending shivers up your spine. She wraps her mouth around your clit, sucking gently, enough to earn a whine from you. 

Minjeong is tender with her touch, lapping softly at your entrance, relishing in the way you would twitch underneath her. You grip her hair tighter as she nudges your clit, grinding softly on her lips, begging for more friction. Lewd sounds begin to spill from your mouth, eyes closed in pure bliss. 

“My pretty girl” she mumbles as she continues her pace. Your spare hand gripping the sheets, with your head thrown to the side. Minjeong uses this chance to snake her hand up your shirt, cupping one of your breasts; squeezing as she massages the now-hardened nipple. Her face still buried between your legs, sucking your clit lovingly. 

She continues to play with the hardened bud, rolling it between her fingers as she sucks on your swollen clit. The amalgamation of sensations had you moaning out her name, feeling the knot form in the pit of your stomach. Minjeong loved the way you sounded, she would do anything in her power to get you to moan her name. And in all honesty, it didn’t take much for you to melt into a moaning mess, crying out her name shamelessly. 

Filthy sounds filled the room, your wet cunt was subject to your girlfriend's persistent licking and sucking. The sound of your arousal progressively turned you on as Minjeong put her mouth to work. Curiosity getting the better of you; you look down to take in the view. Minjeong rested comfortably between your thighs, her mouth and chin drenched with your arousal. The mere sight of her current state was nearly enough for you to come right then and there. 

Your eyes roll back as profanities mindlessly slip under your breath. Her tongue swirled around your clit, earning hums of approval as she went. As she continued her pace, you could feel yourself slowly coming undone. Minjeong knew this; she doubled down, sucking the swollen bud between her lips. You struggled to keep still; your hips bucking haphazardly from the contact. Minjeong attempted to keep you still by gripping your thigh. Her movements never faltered as she pinned you to the bed. 

“I’m gonna cum baby” you state as everything comes crashing down. Blinded by your orgasm, you cry out your girlfriend's name, cumming all over her pretty mouth. Minjeong keeps her head between your legs, lazily sucking at your clit as she cleans you up. She only stops when you jerk your hips from the sensitivity; giving her the signal that you’ve had enough. Minjeong peels herself off you, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand; hooded eyes locking with yours as she returns to your side.

You sat there lifeless; temporarily knocked out from your orgasm. Minjeong was always the sweetest after she was finished with you; even more so when she was still half asleep. She cuddled in close to you, her head naturally finding the crook of your neck, settling in as she wrapped her arms around your waist. You wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment, but the pestering thought of getting ready for work continued to linger. You sighed pulling away from her grasp, showering on the forefront of your mind. 

You didn’t need to look at her to know she was disappointed in your chosen actions. And honestly, you couldn’t blame her; If I were her I’d be pissed off too. You turn to face her; all her features express her discontent. Pouty lips and furrowed eyebrows, you wish you could make it up to her. But currently, the pressures of being an employed adult weigh heavily on your ability to make a decision. It was for the best; you turned your back and made your way into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind you. 

Starting the shower, you stepped in and embraced the warm water. Droplets danced on your skin as you reached for the shampoo. A cold draft interrupts your routine as the shower curtain is dragged aside. Before you could fully turn around, a pair of needy hands found your waist, pulling you in closer. 

You turn around to face your lover; eyes locking with hers as she smiles sheepishly. Your eyes stray briefly, admiring the sight before you. Her soft abs and bare chest made you blush and shift your focus. Of course, Minjeong noticed and took the opportunity to press herself closer to you. Planting soft kisses on your neck and jaw, you hum in contentment, soaking up her gentle affections. 

Your hand cupped the side of her face, lifting it to meet her lips, kissing the droplets that began to form. Amidst the kiss, she weighed herself fully against you, pushing you against the shower wall. The cold tiles sent a jolt to your senses, muffling a gasp between your occupied lips. Minjeong chuckled into the kiss as she pinned you there, using the opportunity to slide her tongue inside your mouth. The kiss grew hotter, her warmth distracting you from the chilling sensation of the shower wall. Before you could become accustomed to Minjeong's sudden affectionate outburst, her knee found its way between your thighs. Dividing your legs in the process. 

Minjeong pulled away to suck at the sweet spot under your earlobe, a move you always found yourself melting into. You moaned against her touch, unintentionally inviting her to glide her fingers through your wet folds. The action causes you to buck your hips, feeling Minjeong smile against your neck in satisfaction. 

“Minjeong…” You trailed off, exasperation present in your tone. 

“Shh, I know baby” she mumbled in response, her mind clearly elsewhere.

You didn’t have the opportunity to argue, not when Minjeong inserted a finger skilfully inside. The action caught you off guard, a gasp leaving your lips as you readjusted to her length. The desperation and pure neediness were enough to have you aching for it. 

Minjeong skipped to pressing deep, summoning moans as her digit stretched your walls. She had you right where she wanted you, hitting the spot you both knew and loved. Your hands flew up to her shoulders, gripping her for stability as she thrust in and out. Minjeong’s pace was slow and deep, practically driving you up the wall. 

Minjeong enjoyed taking her time with you, fucking you agonisingly slow, enjoying the moans you’d let slip out for her in response. She loved the way you’d wrap around her with ease, your walls fluttering with each curl of her finger. Her breath was warm at your ear, whispering sweet nothings as she continued her pace, spurring you closer to the edge. 

As you finally managed to get used to her rhythm, Minjeong added another finger. She moaned softly into your neck, stirring up an insatiable need for her you didn’t know you had buried. Beautiful desire coursed through your veins as she kissed your jaw. 

You loved the sounds Minjeong made when she fucked you. Soft whimpers into the shell of your ear, paired with relentless thrusting made you weak at the knees. If it wasn’t for Minjeong holding you firmly in place you wouldn’t be standing. There wasn’t much you could do other than grip her shoulders tightly, your nails leaving shallow crescents on her soft skin. Which only seemed to encourage Minjeong to continue her pace, letting out breathy moans as she went. 

Minjeong was a dedicated lover through and through. Pleasing you pleased her, and she would often cum just from touching you. The thought of getting her off and hearing her sweet moans was enough to send you over the edge. You slumped into her embrace, feeling the first wave of your orgasm come in hard and fast. Minjeong continued to tease the last of your climax from you, thrusting slowly as you practically rode her fingers. You exhaled deeply when Minjeong finally withdrew her fingers, making sure you watched as she sucked them clean. 

Heat quickly rose to your cheeks, embarrassment settling in after processing the moment between you both. She kissed your lips as she untangled herself from you. 

”Thanks for the shower” she giggled, sending a wink your way before turning her back. 

Maybe being a morning person wasn’t so hard after all. 

[katiascraft]

so i thought like reader being williams social media manager and she is also Francos ex girlfriend. And now Franco is coming into f1 and they see each other again? I don’t know if it makes sense hut yeah. Maybe you like the idea. Love your stuff💗

Hey sweetie 💌 ooooooh I love the idea! I love drama and second chances! Hope you like it. Thank you so much for your request! You are the first to do so. And so I wanted to let you know you made me so happy today :3 (sorry if it took a while but better late than ever! And I hope you have a wonderful day as well 🩵)

——————————————————————————————

“But we were something, don’t you think so? And if my wishes came true it would’ve been you” | FC43

Parings: Franco Colapinto x WilliamsRancingEmployee!Reader.

Summary: Franco and you broke up a while ago. You didn’t expect to see him ever again until he starts driving in F1 for Williams Racing Team.

Now playing: “The 1” by Taylor Swift.

Word count: +2,4k.

Warnings: a little angst? And fluff. Not a native English speaker so there could be errors. Not proofread.

Author’s note: thank you anon for your request again! First time writing about Fran - maybe I could get used to this. Don’t forget to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

You were trying to not lose your umbrella because of the wind. It was raining pretty heavily. England was never a city where happy spirits lived. The sky it’s pretty much sad and depressed most days of the year. But you loved it. You loved feeling melancholy. Remembering your past with a smile or tears.

You had something of not overcoming the past pretty fast. It’s really hard for you to let go and deal with deadlines.

You got finally to the bus stop where a ceiling was now protecting you a little from the water. You were heading for the Williams Racing factory where you’ve worked for a few years now. You were the social media manager at Williams. And you had a meeting with the marketing department.

These last few months were really hard on you. And the reason was just one single person. And that was Franco.

You and Franco dated for two years back when he got in F4. You were teenagers. But still he was the guy who made you feel all the butterflies for the first time. The relationship didn’t end pretty well. You didn’t wanna end it but he told you that he had already made his decision. He needed to be focused to be able to jump to F1 and your romance to him was a distraction. That hurt you so much. And it still hurts thinking about it.

You heart stoped for a second when you saw a guy walking towards your same bus stop - you thought it was Franco because he takes the bus to work just like he always did since you two met. But it wasn’t. Though the guy from afar looked a lot like him. You calmed yourself down.

You job got pretty tricky since Franco jumped finally into F1. You were so happy for him. You wanted to talk to him and tell him how proud of him you were but you couldn’t. You were supposed to hate each other. Working with him was a challenge. You just decided to pretend you didn’t even know who he was and treat him as you treated Alex or Logan before. Even though your heart raced so fast by just looking at him, talk to other people.

First time you saw him was back in august when James announced a new driver was chosen to replace Logan. You loved Logan. Such a great guy. But you understood this was also a business and money is top priority. And Williams isn’t a team with many economic resources so each penny counted. James did an introduction to him a day before the race. He said hi to everyone. When you two saw each other just shook hands. You couldn’t even look at him. When you were back home you had a breakdown and needed to call your therapist because you don’t know how the fuck you were be able to deal him every single day. And even post about him most of the time because for your unlucky luck people became obsessed with him. Everybody loved Franco. And you understood why: he was the most charming and handsome boy you have ever met. And he didn’t change a bit after one year of not seeing him - you thought - forever.

Finally you took the bus. You were gonna be late so you texted your co-worker Amanda to let her know it. You sat on the only free seat that there was.

You were preoccupied in revising everything you had to stay and show in your meeting you didn’t realize the guy sitting next to you was actually franco.

After an awkward silence Franco broke the ice “hey… buenos días” he said with a raspy voice. He was nervous. Not sure if you were okay if he even opened his mouth.

You felt colder than the weather when you heard him. You looked at him to check you weren’t dreaming and indeed you weren’t. You give him a little smile. “Oh hi fran” that’s how you used to call him. Your heart sank a bit. “Good morning. Sorry I didn’t see you. I have a reunion and didn’t want to forget anything. You have a workout today?” You just decided to talk to him. A little chat wouldn’t kill you. And you hated pretending you didn’t know him. He smelled just the same. The same perfume. He had his mate bag with him and a boca juniors gym bag. Just as how you remembered him. You licked your lips nervously.

He nodded shyly and you saw his cheeks turning red for some reason. “Yeah I have gym today. And everything’s gonna be fine at the meeting. You always explain yourself perfectly” he said, sending you a sweet smile. His voice was deep and raspy. You knew he was still a little sleepy knowing it was almost 8am. You smiled back at him.

“Thank you” you said sweetly. Another weird silence took place between you two. You didn���t know what to say. You just looked around.

“Are you still mad at me y/n?” He said out of nowhere. The words just jumped out of his mouth. He was still hunted by what happened between you two. You looked at him again, giving him a sad look. You denied it with your head.

“No I'm not… I’m just sad. We were something right? But you know. It was hard to let you go but yeah…” you hesitated in what you could tell him. You didn’t even know what you were feeling right now. He stared at you a few seconds and nodded looking down. He started playing with his fingers.

“Maybe we could talk about all of this when you finish your meeting? I really think we should talk. I… I don’t like when you pretend you don’t know me… like we never knew each other you know? I feel really guilty about it. And… I’m proud of where you are now. It was your dream and you made it. And you’re really good at it. You give fans what they need” he said shyly and sad? He was working hard to show he can be an F1 driver. That he deserves a seat. But also he was really sad because he since decided to end things with you. He already regretted it.

Yes, he was more focused but he didn’t have your support. He isn’t into physical touch but your hugs were his favorites. He would let you touch him forever. He felt empty and really lonely. Even his family had to deal with the grief of not having you around anymore.

Yes, it was worth it for a while when he had James tell him he was gonna drive an F1 car for the end of the season. But when he saw you standing there. More beautiful than he has ever seen you. You looked so happy and profesional. So beautiful. And bright. He hated himself right there. Because you'd have done it together if he wouldn’t have been so selfish. He didn’t think he was in love with you when you broke up. But as the time passed he felt miserable. Getting home and seeing no one. No music. No you playing sims and showing him the sims you created while he was gone. No cooking cookies for tea time or ‘merienda’ how it is called in Argentina. Anyone to share mates with or talk about the day. No one to cuddle on the sofa or to forget about everything in bed. No one to go out and eat dinner. Or day trips to London. There was nothing left.

He was an asshole to you. And he really hated himself for that.

You couldn’t keep on talking because the bus was really where you needed to be. You both got down the bus in silence. And just walked side by side into the Williams factory announcing yourselves at the gate.

You were thinking about his offer. Like you needed it but at the same time you were scared. But you decided to follow your heart.

“See you after the meeting then?” You said when he opened the door of the factory for you. His sad look turned into a very smiley one. He nodded.

“Yeah yeah. I’ll be waiting for you at the cafeteria. Is that okay?” He said walking behind you because you were running late for the meeting. You turned to him a little.

“Sounds good to me Fran. See you in a bit” you said in a smile but feeling really weird at the same time. You didn’t know if that chat was gonna be the end of you or the relief you just needed. You didn’t know. But you knew you couldn’t keep going the way you two were.

You disappeared from Franco's view while you ran up the stairs to the office where the meeting was being held. He just stared there for a few seconds wondering. He didn’t know if talking was the best move but he felt better after you said yes. And he realized how bad he missed hearing you call him Fran. He got into the gym. Everyone was already there so he didn’t have time to keep thinking about you. Now it was time for a great workout. And a pretty intense one.

(…)

You got out of the office 2 hours later. It was intense. You had a headache now and you needed some coffee. You were regretting deciding to meet Franco but it is what it is. Maybe could it be relaxing? You didn’t believe yourself. But you were sure you just had to give him another chance and maybe be friends.

You walked down the stairs and headed to the cafeteria. When you got there you could see Franco sitting alone at one of the tables. There wasn’t anyone. It was just you and Franco and the women at the kitchen. You smiled. You were a little bit more relaxed knowing it was kind of private. First you headed into the kitchen and asked for a coffee. You knew Franco didn’t want one because you saw him drinking mate. The woman handed the coffee politely to you and you thanked her with a sweet smile “have a good rest of the day Amelia” you told her sweetly grabbing your coffee and now walking towards franco.

He saw you and gave you a bright smile. “Hey” he said, moving his stuff so you could sit with him at the table and have space for your coffee and things. He was reading some papers that were given to him by one of the engineers back in the simulator.

You smiled looking at him. He had showered and smelled incredibly good. And he looked so gorgeous by the sunlight that was coming in from the window. “Hey did I make you wait too long?” You said sitting down and getting comfy.

“No no I got here like 30 minutes ago” he said softly and sweetly. You looked so beautiful in your formal outfit. Though he remembered being crazy about you when you wore pajamas. You looked so cute. He missed you. Like crazy.

“Oh okay. Thank you for waiting for me” you thanked him and took a sip of your coffee. And he did the same with his mate.

“So… how are you? How’s your life been?” You said to start talking and leave the uncomfortness of the situation behind and just chill out and be okay with this. Or at least you wished that but you were a bit anxious of this conversation taking place.

“Well… to be fair it just depends on which aspect of my life you ask. In my driving life everything’s been great. Better than I could ever have expected. In my personal life to be honest I’ve been miserable” he said, giggling a little at the last part of his answer. You smiled sadly looking at him.

“Well maybe we aren’t so different. I’ve been miserable too personally. And at work gray. Better than ever. But you know a guy I used to date decided to fuck my life up by just being selfish so yeah - life’s shit” you really didn’t want to go there so fast but you just couldn’t control yourself. You’re still hurt. And you needed to be vocal about it. You deserve it. You could see he got nervous and readjusted himself on his chair.

“Oh yeah I think I remember him. He was an asshole to you. Then he felt empty and guilty and lonely and got depressed. But you know he deserved it for being such an idiot. I wouldn’t have let you go if I were him. You are in fact an incredible woman with the worst sense of humor I’ve ever met. And by worst I mean best.” He said talking in third person funny. You couldn’t help but laugh a little. You looked at him nodding.

“Yeah he was a selfish asshole but we can also agree maybe that he looks gorgeous now. If he has another girl then I would be really jealous. He is really a sweetheart. And a professional clown. Very funny. He should do stand up” you followed his way of navigating all of this mess you two created. He laughed and your heart melted. You loved making him laugh. Your heart started racing and butterflies reappeared in your stomach. You felt dumb.

“Oh no he is pretty ugly in my opinion. You were too much for him but like positively. You are fucking sexy and he is just a dude” he said raising his shoulders quirky and funny. You got so flustered.

“Well maybe you're right. I’m not gonna deny I’m on top level” you said joking giggling. He smiled wildly. There you were again. The you he was madly in love with. And the he was. The guy who made you laugh until you cried. The one who made you so happy.

It would’ve been fun if he would’ve been the one. Or maybe does he still have a chance?

“Look y/n I’m really sorry. I really am. I know that saying sorry doesn’t fix anything but I would really love it if we could be friendly and try to figure this out on good terms?” He said more seriously and you nodded agreeing.

“Yeah we can try. Everyone deserves a second chance right?”you told him. You had mixed feelings about it but you knew that maybe this was the best you could do. Try to make things easier between you two will also be beneficial for your work.

“Alright” he said with the biggest smile you saw him having since you saw him again. “You want some?” He asked, offering you mate and you just nodded, smiling at him and agreeing.

Just like the old days.

——————————————————————————————

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have anymore ideas my inbox is open so send your requests!

[fanfiction4sooya]

As If (Natty x f! reader)

I have no idea where I found the inspiration for this but natty has been on my mind lately so yeah... no real content warning (except smut) because you'll have to figure things out by yourself 😌😌😌 I hope y'all like it!! 💖💖💖

cw: smut, gxg, not really proofread it's short for a reason ;)

You weren't out of the closet for much time and not to many people as well. College made you figure it out that your slight obsession with women wasn't just for pure scientifical reasons and well, you were still quite literally figuring things out.

Your roomate on the other had had everything settled already and she was, well... experienced.

You weren't enemies but not friends either, per say. Defintely not friends.

"How do you know you like girls if ou haven't tried anything with one yet?" Your friend, Belle, asked.

"She gets horny with the thought of her and another girl fucking" Julie rolled her eyes at Belle. "I'm sure straight girls don't feel that" Now belle rolled her eyes.

"That's not what I meant. I'm encouraging her to do it..." They both looked at your shy self.

"I can't even talk to a girl! How am I supposed to, you know..." You blushed. "It took me a year to have sex with my ex boyfriend, just so you know" They both nodded.

"Maybe you should get with someone more experienced?" Belle asked.

"Have you thought about asking Natty?" Haneul appeared from thin air and all of you looked at her.

"N-atty?" You shyly said, frowning.

"Oh Natty would be perfect for the job" Belle clapped.

"I would be perfect for what job?" Natty scared the four of you, wearing that smug smile of hers as usual.

"What the fuck, where are you guys coming from?!?" Julie asked, exhasperated.

"What were you guys talking about just now?" She eyed you up and down. "What job?"

"A hand job, to be more precise..." Haneul said, looking at her phone.

"Haneul!" You said, slapping her arm.

"I'm just saying... you do need her-" You covered her mouth.

"Do you need my hand, baby?" She suggestively raised her eyebrows, letting her head fall a bit to the side and all the other girls silently went 'oooh'.

Oh you hated how cocky she was, hated her smug face only because you always heard her with all those other girls and all her bragging that she can get any girl she wants... you would rather not touch a woman forever if you were to choose between that or her. Didn't matter if the thought of it was alluring and heat rose up to your cheeks.

You did not need her hand for anything!

"You?" You rolled your eyes. "Pfft, as if" You turned your back to her and your friends, walking away as fasts as you could without looking like an idiot.

Natty bit her lower lip, watching you walk away as the awkward silence installed itself amongst your friends who quickly bid their goodbyes to her.

"As if..." She said, amused by you. "We'll see about that" She whispered to herself, putting on her sunglasses and walking lazily to her next class.

A few days had passed and living with her was all but amusing. Natty was using your new discovery as leverage to torment you every chance she got. It was subtle at first, but soon you understood she was just teasing you.

That day wouldn't be different.

You were on the couch writing something down on your notebook as she entered the living room, wearing her sleeping shorts and a tiny crop top that showed perfectly the underside of her boobs and her stomach.

Your eyes followed her as she plopped right beside you, scrolling through social media.

She was sitting so close you could feel her heat on your own skin.

"Can you move?" You huffed, trying your best to sound annoyed.

"To where?" She 'innocently' said.

"I don't know. Anywhere but my side, maybe?" You lowered your eyes to your notebook and pen, ignoring her when you felt both items being snatched from you and her legs straddled your waist. "Hey!" You held her waist, trying to force her up but she wouldn't budge.

"You said anywhere but your side, baby" She said, looking down at your flustered face.

"I didn't mean for you to sit o-on me" You stammered, pink tinted cheeks getting redder by the second. You could feel how warm her private parts felt against your stomach.

"Oh..." She hushed, hands holding your wrists. "But I want to..." She stared at your lips, biting hers.

"W-what?" You said, gulping so hard you were sure she heard it.

"Nothing" She smiled, getting up. "You are cute when you get all shy" She gave back your pen and notebook and quickly got back to your side, scrolling on her phone like nothing had happened.

"What the fuck..." You whispered, trying to understand what the hell had just happened.

"What did you say?" She looked at you, that smug smile on her face once again.

"N-nothing" You quickly got up to go to your bedroom.

You closed your eyes, trying to even your breath, the image of her on top of you felt sinful; her warm skin, her boobs and tummy, her hands on your wrists, her pus- You shook your head.

"Stop that you dumb lesbian!!" You said to yourself. "She is messing with you, don't forget that" Closing your eyes, you felt heat spreading to your core.

To that day on you couldn't stop your thoughts. All you wanted was her on you and vice versa, it was insane. She was Natty and you knew she was a train wreck going full speed into any pair of spread legs she could see...

The thought of it was arousing but you were definitely not having Natty as your first experience with a woman. Not the biggest fuckgirl you've ever met. Not her.

*****

Getting out of the shower you had already dressed your baby pink pajamas so you'd go to bed, you almost let out a scream when you found your roomate in your bed, eyes closed and everything.

"What the hell?!" You squeaked out. "What are you doing here?" She smiled.

"I had an accident on my bed and now it's wet..." She trailed off. "So I invited myself to sleep here with you" Natty bit her lower lip as innocently as she could (near zero).

"No, you can sleep on the couch" You tried pulling her off your bed, but she was stronger, pulling you into her arms instead.

"Please, it will be only tonight" She spoke into your hair since you turned your face to the side so you wouldn't face her. "The couch is too small and uncomfortable"

"Natty, let go" You felt yourself growing needier with each second passed into her arms.

"Will you let me stay?" She squeezed you a bit harder and you almost melted into her, holding on for dear life the need to whimper.

"O-okay" You husked. "now please, let go" You said, turning your face to stare at her. Her smirk was dizying, enfuriating so, so... hot.

"Why?" She looked to your eyes, then to your lips. "You can stay on top of me" It felt like that sentence woke you up and you immediately pushed her, sitting up on the bed.

"Jesus, I can't ever give you the benefit of the doubt" You rolled your eyes. "You can sleep here but you'll stay quiet" You said, laying besides her and immediately closing your eyes.

"I was waiting for a bedtim-"

"Don't push your luck" You interrupted with your eyes closed, trying to think of something, anything that wasn't her inside of you. She just said "Okay" and kept her silence.

You could feel her turning on the bed, her breath lightly tickling your nape and making you squirm. A thought occur in your mind and before holding it in you quickly asked:

"How did you wet your bed?" You said.

"Ahh, it's embarassing..." She whimpered. You eyes shot open and you turned around.

"No way you peed in your bed" You said, holding your laughter.

"It wasn't that" She rolled her eyes. "But I'm not telling you"

"oh you did pee in your bed, there's no other explanation!" You sounded so naive she thought you were the cutest thing ever.

"I didn't" She got closer to your ear. "I squirted on it" You leaned back, staring at her face for what felt like ages, waiting for her to laugh it off and say she was only joking.

Apparently she wasn't.

"W-why would you tell me that?" You stammered, swallowing hard.

"Because you asked me, silly"

"You could've lied!" You squirmed, heat pooling in your stomach. The thought of it was too much.

"Why would I do that when only the truth could make you blush like you are doing just now? Hm?" She placed a strand of hair behind your ear and you felt your face grow even hotter. "You look pretty like this"

"Like what?" You managed to say and she leaned even more your way.

"All hot and bothered thinking of me fucking myself for you"

"F-for me?" Your arousal was already dripping onto your sleeping shorts. Natty nodded.

"You always made me feel this way..." She straddled your lap, her warm pussy hovering over yours. "I always wanted you to catch me with my fingers deep inside myself for you" She whisperered, lips hovering over yours. "I need to do the same to you-" She started saying but you cut her off with a searing kiss.

You two immediately moaned onto each others lips, your hands on her hips as she lightly humped your tummy.

You were going insane.

The kiss felt urgent, hot; yet so delicate you couldn't even believe anyone in the world would rather kiss a man than a woman. Especially a woman like Natty.

She was so skilled and secure, her tongue grazing deeper and deeper over yours, her lips trailing from your lips to your jaw and your neck. Every time she'd suck on it you felt your pussy throb in need, your eyes roll far back.

"Natty..." You moaned so beautifully you couldn't even believe that angelic sound came from you.

"I'm gonna teach you something, baby..." She smiled against your lips, flipping you two so now you were the one straddling her as her hands quickly found your hips to make you roll them over her clothed pussy.

"Fuck..." You moaned against her lips and she smiled, bruisinly kissing you. You felt wetness seaping through your shorts and quickly - and without thinking - tried to remove yourself from her lap but she held your hips firmly in place.

"Where do you think you are going?" Her voice was laced with arousal, dominance. You mentally slapped yourself for denying you this for so long.

"I'm too wet..." You wanted to hide your face anywhere so she wouldn't see your blushed cheeks.

"Aw, is my sweet girl wet?" She mocked and you rolled your eyes.

"You don't need to point it-" You were interruped by her fingers grazing your clit over your shorts, making you tremble from head to toe. "Oh, my..."

"Indeed..." The pad of her fingers found your sticky slit. "So fucking wet for me" Her eyes darkened, her other hand squeezing your hip with bruising force as to keep you there. "What do you need, baby?" She husked and you found it really hard to find your words. "Say it" She pulled down your pajama top exposing your breasts, her tongue soon circling one of your nipples to hasrhly suck on it.

"Oh, fuck" You choked out. "I need you to fuck me, Natty" You moaned, her eyes mischievously staring up at you as she started circling your engorged clit still over your shorts.

You moaned, trying your best to keep your upper body straight so you wouldn't suffocate her, one of your hands on her nape as to pull her more and more onto your sensitive breasts.

Your hips took off, in sync with her fingers as your cunt pulsed and your eyes watered.

"K-eep going" You stammered. "Natty, ah" You bit your lower lip.

"Are you close, baby?" She said, her hot breath fanning over one of your sensitive nipples.

"Y-yes, please" Your eyes found hers and she smiled.

"Good" She said, stopping everything she was doing and pushing you off her lap.

"Wha-" She literally pushed you onto the bed so your back would be on her front, her arms circling around your waist.

"What? You thought that little 'as if' would go unoticed?" She scoffed. "I told you I'd teach you something" You felt yourself tremble in her embrance. "Today you'll learn the consequences of that little transgression in front of your friends"

"Are you really going to leave me like this?" You wanted to cry because of that ruined orgasm, because you felt humiliated after literally begging for her to fuck you.

"For now" She whispered, your pussy aching in need for her. "When you learn how to behave you'll get what you want" She kissed your cheek. "For now you'll sleep all sticky thinking of ways you can be nicer to me"

"You-" She squeezed you a bit harder.

"Be nice" Her voice sounded way too commanding and you felt a wave of arousal run through you like a lightning.

"Sorry" You whined.

"That's it, baby..." She smiled.

Unlike you, Natty slept the whole night...