#i only met him a couple of times when i was friends with her & it was ten years ago though. so i wasn’t sure

[paddockletters]

shattered hearts | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: you break free from a toxic relationship, embarking on an exhilarating journey of self-discovery

warning: emotional abuse, infidelity, toxic relationship, angst

author's note:this was hard, so hard omg... as I always say, english is not my first language so sorry me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

I met Lando when we were barely out of high school. Back then, he was just a kid with dreams and a mischievous smile that made you feel like you were the only one in the world that mattered. For a while, I believed that was true. But as the years went by, I learned that Lando's smile wasn’t mine alone—it was shared with others, stolen moments behind my back. And somehow, I was always the one left picking up the pieces.

Our relationship was a whirlwind, the couple everyone thought would either crash or last forever. We did crash—over and over again. But somehow, Lando always found a way to convince me to come back.

“I’m sorry,” he’d say, voice low and pleading after one of his inevitable affairs. “But you know you’re my number one, right? None of them matter like you do.”

He’d wrap his arms around me, pull me close, and somehow, I’d believe him. I had to because after eight years of being with him, I didn’t know who I was without him.

The first time he cheated, I was devastated. It was in his early F1 days, just as his fame started to sink in. He swore it was a one-time thing that it didn’t mean anything. And like a fool, I believed him. But it didn’t stop. It never stopped. There was always another girl, another excuse, another lie wrapped up in the promise that I was still the "main one."

One particular night, I remember the argument that nearly broke us for good. Lando had been out late, and I found out through a mutual friend that he had been seen with another girl. Again. When he came home, reeking of alcohol and guilt, I confronted him.

“You said you were going to change, Lando!” I yelled, tears streaming down my face. “You promised me, over and over again, but nothing ever changes!”

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this? You always come back. You always forgive me,” he shot back, arms crossed, his face a mask of irritation.

His words stung like a slap to the face. I wanted to scream, to leave right then and there. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because a part of me still loved him, or maybe it was the idea of him—the boy I met before the fame, before the lies.

As the years rolled on, our friends saw the cracks. One night during a get-together at a bar, I tried to put on a brave face. I thought maybe if I acted normal, I could convince myself everything was fine. But when Jess pulled me aside, her expression serious, I knew I couldn’t hide anymore.

“Why do you keep letting him treat you like this?” she asked, frustration evident in her voice. “You deserve so much better, and he’s just going to keep doing this until you realize it.”

“Maybe he’ll change. I can’t just throw away eight years,” I replied defensively. “We have a history.”

“You mean a history of him cheating on you? You have to stop putting up with this, or you’re going to lose yourself,” she insisted, shaking her head.

I didn’t have an answer for her, not really. I just wanted to believe that things would get better. That Lando would see how much I cared and finally choose me over everyone else.

Our mutual friends began to pick sides. Some supported me, while others were loyal to Lando. It was suffocating, a constant tug-of-war that made everything feel so much worse. I felt more isolated than ever, even when surrounded by people.

Then there was the jealousy. Lando was incredibly possessive, especially with his fellow drivers. During one race weekend, I was talking to Charles, who had just finished his session. Lando walked in, and his eyes darkened.

“Why are you always chatting up the other drivers?” he snapped, pulling me aside as Charles walked away, giving us a questioning look.

“Because they’re my friends, Lando! Just because you’re in F1 doesn’t mean I can’t talk to anyone else. You’re not my warden,” I shot back, feeling the anger rise in my chest.

“Don’t act like I’m overreacting. You know how it looks,” he hissed, jaw clenched, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

I knew he was being unreasonable, but I was too exhausted to fight back. Our friends watched the tension build, hoping to intervene. I overheard Max once whisper to Lando.

“You need to chill, mate. You’re pushing her away.”

But Lando always had an excuse for everything, often deflecting blame onto me.

“You just don’t understand how this world works!” he’d shout, leaving me feeling small and defeated.

The cycle continued, and I found myself in the same painful arguments over and over. One night, after he came home late from a party, I had finally reached my breaking point.

“Do you even care about how I feel?” I shouted, my voice echoing through our apartment. “You’re always out with other girls! How am I supposed to trust you?”

“I told you, you’re the main one! None of them matter!” he retorted, but his words felt hollow to me.

We spent that night in silence, and I knew I had to make a decision. I just didn’t know how to let go.

The more time passed, the more I began to distance myself from Lando. Therapy helped. I began to see the truth behind his words and actions. The way he manipulated me, made me feel guilty for his mistakes. The way he made it seem like I was the one at fault for staying, like I was to blame for the pain he caused me.

During one therapy session, I shared my frustrations.

“I don’t know why I keep coming back to him. He’s hurt me so many times, and I just can’t let go.”

The therapist asked me one simple question: “Do you love him, or are you just scared of being without him?”

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t know the answer.

One evening after another brutal fight, I finally left. For good this time. I packed my bags while he watched, silent for once. Maybe he thought I’d come back, just like I always did. But this time was different. I walked out the door, leaving behind eight years of memories, both good and bad.

The nights were long and lonely, and I often found myself thinking about the happy moments we had. One flashback struck me particularly hard: it was the first time he had taken me to the paddock during a race weekend, and we laughed like kids as he showed me around.

“Can you believe this is my life now?” he had said, beaming with pride. “I never would have thought I’d be racing in F1.”

“I always knew you could do it,” I replied, squeezing his hand.

But now, those memories felt tainted, and I needed to focus on myself. It wasn’t easy. There were nights I cried myself to sleep, wondering if I had made the right decision. But with time, and with the help of my therapist, I started to heal. I began to see that I deserved better, that I deserved someone who would love me the way I had always wanted Lando to.

One evening, after finally leaving Lando for good, I found myself at a racing event with friends. It was a chance to distract myself from the whirlwind of emotions I was navigating. As I wandered through the paddock, I was drawn to the sound of laughter.

“Are you lost, or just overwhelmed by all this?” a smooth voice asked. I turned to see Pato O'Ward, the charming IndyCar driver, grinning at me. His eyes sparkled with warmth, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of something hopeful.

“I guess a little bit of both,” I replied, smiling back.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” he offered, his energy contagious. As we walked through the paddock, he shared stories about his racing experiences and the thrill of competing. It felt so refreshing to be around someone who was passionate and genuine, without the weight of expectations or drama.

Days turned into weeks, and I found myself spending more time with Pato. He was everything I had needed—funny, respectful, and utterly devoted. He listened to me, understood my past, and never once made me feel like I was in a competition for his attention.

One night, after a thrilling race, he took me to a quiet spot overlooking the track. “You know,” he said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about how important it is to find someone who truly sees you. I see you, and I want to be that person.”

His words resonated deep within me, filling the void Lando had left. In that moment, I knew I had found something special with Pato, something I had longed for but never thought I could have.

Meanwhile, Lando had his own set of problems. He was still juggling relationships, using his charm to keep people around while juggling jealousy over his fellow drivers. I heard from our mutual friends that he was still stuck in the same toxic patterns, always in and out of relationships, always claiming that I was the one who got away.

I remember a race weekend when Charles and Lando got into an argument. I was watching from the sidelines with Pato when Charles approached me, concern etched on his face.

“Are you okay? I know things with Lando have been… complicated,” he said, his gaze shifting to Lando, who was across the paddock, still fuming.

“I’m fine, really. I’ve moved on,” I assured him, but I could see the doubt in his eyes.

Later that evening, I got a message from Lando, who had obviously overheard the chatter.

“I know you’re happy with him, but you’re still mine. You always come back to me, remember?”

It took everything in me not to respond. I had a new life now, a new partner who respected me and didn’t cheat. Lando’s words were just echoes of the past.

Fast forward to our wedding day. I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my veil, my heart racing with excitement. Pato had become my rock, my partner in every sense of the word. I knew this was the right choice, and my heart was finally at peace.

Then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Lando.

“I heard you’re getting married. Just wanted to say, I hope you’re happy. But I still think about you. We could’ve had it all, you know.”

I stared at the message, my heart pounding. For a moment, I considered replying. But then I remembered all the sleepless nights, the tears, the heartbreak, and all the promises he had broken.

“Too late,” I typed back, hitting send before I could second-guess myself.

As I walked down the aisle, Pato’s face lit up with joy, and I couldn’t help but smile back. When he took my hands in his, I felt a sense of completeness I hadn’t known in years.

The ceremony was beautiful, I felt a sense of completeness I hadn’t felt in years. When Pato took my hands in his, I knew I was finally moving forward.

As we exchanged vows, Lando’s presence lingered in the back of my mind, but I let it go.

“I promise to love you through every challenge and to celebrate every victory,” he said, his eyes shining with sincerity.

“I promise to choose you every day for the rest of my life,” I replied, my voice steady and full of conviction.

We sealed our vows with a kiss, and I felt liberated. Lando was no longer my story; I was the author of my own life now, and it was a beautiful beginning with Pato. With him by my side, I was ready to embrace the future we would build together, thriving in a relationship based on trust, respect, and love.

As time passed, I learned to appreciate the small moments—the laughter, the late-night talks, the shared dreams of a future together. Pato supported my passions and encouraged me to pursue my own ambitions, something I had never fully experienced before.

One day, I received a message from Max: “Lando’s been a mess since your wedding. He didn’t handle it well.”

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. He had always taken me for granted, and now, he was the one left behind.

I hoped Lando would find peace eventually, but I also knew I couldn’t go back to the pain of our past. Pato was everything I needed, and I was determined to focus on our life together.

As our first anniversary approached, Pato planned a surprise getaway. “I want to celebrate us, everything we’ve built,” he said, a bright smile on his face.

We traveled to a beautiful beach destination, where we spent our days relaxing, laughing, and simply enjoying each other’s company. One night, under a sky full of stars, Pato took my hand and said, “You’ve changed my life for the better. I want to keep building this amazing life with you.”

I couldn’t hold back my tears. “You’ve shown me what real love looks like, Pato. I’m so grateful for you.”

His expression softened as he leaned in, kissing me gently.

Then, one day, I got a call from Lando.

“Can we talk?” he asked, voice shaky.

“What do you want, Lando?” I replied, my heart racing.

“I just need to explain… things didn’t go as planned after you left. I’ve made mistakes, and I want you back.”

I paused, memories flooding back. “You had your chance, Lando. I can’t keep going back to the past. I’m happy now. I’ve moved on.”

“But I still love you!” he pleaded. “You were always my main one!”

His words echoed painfully in my mind, but I stood my ground. “You had your chance to prove that. You made your choice.”

The phone call ended, and I sighed with relief. I looked at Pato, who was sitting beside me, and smiled. I had made the right choice.

I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Lando was no longer a part of my narrative. My life was filled with the warmth and love Pato brought into it, and I was excited for the future we would continue to create together.

With Pato, I had learned to love again, not just him, but also myself. And that made all the difference.

Lando’s chapter had closed, and I was finally ready to start anew, with someone who truly valued me, not just as the ‘main one,’ but as the woman I had become.

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi fawn! hope you're doing ok

so, sunshine!reader and post prison!spencer, but r is all serious during work situations and spencer only finds out about this sunshiney side over their time together ☝️

Spencer thinks you’re a hardass and he likes it, but he’d be a horrible profiler if he didn’t realize that there was more under the surface.

You’re rigid and unmoving in most everything you do in the field, and you’re never wrong. But the minute it’s not work, you’re lighter in a way he can’t put into words.

Spencer notices what he terms, ‘the changes,’ during your mornings.

You’ll make his coffee the way he likes it and set it on his desk, or you’ll bring extra of whatever you baked over the weekend for him and the office.

Also, on some occasions you walk in on the phone with this grin that he swears lights up the whole room and your voice light and sweet as whipped sugar.

He’s fond of those mornings for your smile but he’s also raging jealous, that much he can admit to himself, of whoever is on the other end of the phone making you smile like that.

“Morning, Spence.” You’re late today, only two minutes but over the year you’ve worked there Spencer knows you hate it.

Maybe it’s why your face is set in a serious frown as you set your bags down. When you yawn and stretch he thinks maybe not.

“Hi, how was your first night back on Eastern Standard time?”

You sigh, headed into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. “Hell. I didn’t realize I’d be that jet lagged.”

Spencer coos something adorable, you feel it in your chest. He’s quite possibly the sweetest man you’ve ever met.

It’s possibly why you allowed yourself to get so close to him, why you’d become friends with Spencer and why you’re leaning into him as he stands next to you, your temple hovering over his shoulder.

He can smell your perfume this close and only hopes that it rubs off onto his shirt. It’s a scent so much like yourself he wonders if you realized that when you’d bought it.

It’s spicy and then after a couple seconds, amber and vanilla and something floral he can’t place takes over- it’s exactly you.

Spencer spots the change in demeanor the second on of the newbies pass by, the way you stand straighter and lean away from his space a little.

Still, he trails a hand from his side to the small of your back, a shiver racing down your spine as his hand touches you. Spencer bites back a smile- always pleased to be reminded by how he affects you the way you do him.

“Maybe if we’ve not got much going on here I can drive you home early.” The words are soft enough only you hear them, and there’s a touch of something you can place in his voice. Adoration? Love? You really shouldn’t assume.

“If Emily approves it.”

Spencer shrugs, mixing your coffee the way you like and handing you the warm mug, handle out towards you. “Or I can get you home first and tell you her you weren’t feeling well.”

You narrow your eyes as you take a sip of the coffee, relief and comfort flowing through you as your shoulders sag. Even you can’t quite make your coffee this well.

“Ask permission later, essentially?” You tease, Spencer smiles, a private smile only for you as you start making your way back to your desks together.

“For you? Yeah. She won’t mind either way.” It’s true, but the idea of Spencer possibly getting in trouble or going over Emily’s head to take care of you does make your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected.

“You flirt too much,” you say with a smile. Spencer hasn’t even shown you the half of it. “C’mon, I wanna hear my morning facts about orcas and ladybugs. Don’t keep a girl waiting.”

Spencer touches your shoulda as he gets past you, just to get his insect book and the orca book he’d gotten just for you. “Oh I’d never, honey.”

[gothicrazor]

Anything for you

Kurt Wagner x Fem!Reader || Rating: PG(?) || WC: 1.4k

Inspiration: Foreigner's God - Hoizer

Content Warning: afab reader, unrequited love (both reader + Kurt), Kurt pining

Authors Note: First time writing for X-Men! Please be kind to me I'm trying pookies, hopefully this turns out okay or I might actually weep! I dunno if anyone would want a part two of this, just lemme know ig??? Also let it be known I used deepL for the few things he said in German... Please don't hate me 😔

Who knew the kiss on the back of a gloved hand could really tank someone's mood as quickly as anything else at a typical Saturday night dinner. Watching the gleam drain from your eyes across the table was something he's sadly used to now. Following your eyes to the end of the table to what he knew you were staring at.

His dear sister and one of his closest friends. Rogue and Gambit. The strongest "couple" next to their leader and his wife. A force strong and immovable. Rogue, too scared to stray. And Gambit, too loyal to look anywhere but her eyes half the time.

And it kills you. Anyone who knows you can see your heart break every time they connect.

Thankfully, no one seems to be paying attention to you, no one but the blue mutant across the table from you. He finds it hard to keep his eyes anywhere but on you. Always has since you met all those years ago. He's seen you at your best, the fierceness burning behind your eyes during the heat of battle. And at your worse... Grieving the loss of something you could never have in the first place.

Your chair screeches, moving across the hardwood of the dining room harder than you intended. Standing up too fast, everyone stared in surprise.

"I'm gonna turn in early." Scott's brow rose behind ruby quartz shades as he stood up.

"Everything okay?" You smile, trying to keep up the facade, not wanting to openly weep in front of the team you call family.

"Just a little tired from training." You grab the edge of your half-eaten plate of dinner before you're met with the rough hand of Logan next to you on your wrist.

"Leave it kid, go get some shut eye." His face almost looks slightly worried, as you don't even put up an argument as usual. Just nodding, you push your chair in and hurry out of the dining room.

Kurt watches you leave, tilting his head to watch you rush up the foyer stairs as chatter picks back up at the table.

"Do you think she's sick?" His ears perk up to the concerned whisper of Jean's voice, looking at Scott as he sat back down at the head of the table.

"It's not unlike her to keep quiet when she's not feeling the best."

"She's barely been eating more than half her food in the past week Scott, I'm starting to get worried. She hasn't been like this since the Professor died." Kurt's head turns, chiming in with his usual soft tone.

"I'll check on her after dinner." Jean and Scott both looked at him. Jean smiling softly as she squeezed his shoulder.

"Thank you, Kurt. She'd probably talk to you before any of us." He nods, his dark hair bouncing lightly before turning his attention back to dinner.

Walking down the hall, he stops at your door, glancing at your nameplate before raising his fist to knock. Freezing for a moment, knowing you'd expect him to come upstairs anytime after you left. Why should he bother to knock at this point?

But Kurt is quite literally a creature of habit. So he does.

Two soft wraps hit the door before grabbing the knob, edging the flat wood open to peek inside. Your room is still dimly lite, only the moon from your window cast over the person-sized lump under the covers of your bed. A soft mutter of your name leaves his lips, yellow eyes glowing as he looks down at the bed.

"Can I come in?" A whimpered 'yes' is all he gets in return, stepping inside with the subtle click of the door closing behind him. The familiar creak of the bed fills the room as he sits on the edge, tail curling over your legs covered by blankets. Hand meeting your side under the covers, eyes falling to their usual worried state, like every time he's comforted you this way before.

Rubbing gently over your lower back, he doesn't say a word, just feeling the slight tremble of your body hidden away from his line of sight. You sniff, pulling the blanket from over your head to look at him, eyes bloodshot and miserable looking. Something he's seen too many times before but still breaks his heart seeing you like this.

"Can you lie with me, please?"

"Anything for you, mein Schatz." He gets up, walking around the bed, pulling the covers back as he climbs in next to you. Fixing them back in place, you assume your natural spot of your head on his chest and his arm around your shoulder. The gentle rub of his hand down your bicep in a soothing gesture.

"Are you okay?" His voice barely raised above a whisper, his cheek settling onto the top of your head. You take in a sharp bit shaky breath trying to calm yourself.

"It's getting harder and harder to be around them... I don't..." You choke up for a second, breathing out a soft whimper.

"I don't know... How much longer can I stand to see them together... It's so unfair of me to feel this way because he'll never love me... Not like Anna, but I just can't... Stop it. I just - I feel terrible for so many reasons." Kurt hugs you tighter, knowing that feeling all too well. Unrequited affections for someone who'll never see you as anything more than a good friend. It almost hurts him knowing you're feeling how he feels constantly.

"I know, I wish I could take the pain away from you." You shudder, sniffling against his chest. Tears welling up in your eyes as you hold onto him like a lifeline, trying to ground yourself in desperation. Squeezing your eyes shut, the tears slipped, soaking the front of his suit.

"I feel so stupid." You whine, starting to hiccup against him, tears sliding past your lashes in groves. Kurt shushes you, moving his hand to your back to cradle you closer. Sharp claws raking over the back of your uniform, gentle touch as he always has with you. His hand moves up, thumb rubbing over your cheek and turning up your chin to look at him.

"You are not stupid, meine Liebe. It's okay to feel this way. The heart wants what it wants. Unforgiving or not, you can't help that."

"Why does it have to be him of all people?" His lips turned to a frown, seeing the hurt behind your eyes. Still wiping your eyes with his thumb, he just shakes his head.

"I wish I could give you the answers. Remy is... A kind man who deeply cares for those he loves. I can see the appeal. But you'll be okay. Eventually, I'm sure of it. You're very strong after all." You just blink, breath quivering as you start to calm down a bit.

"I'm strong..." You mutter under your breath, making him smile slightly before your head goes back to him. Finding his shoulder to lean on, you take in a deep breath, shutting your eyes as you exhale and repeating the words like a prayer.

"Ja, the strongest I know."

"Thank you, Kurt, I don't know what I'd do without you." You give a weak smile as you relax against him, feeling his head leaning against yours.

"And you'll never have to find out, that's a promise." You smile a little wider, a chuckle escaping your lips.

"Can you keep holding me for a little while longer?" He smiles against the top of your head, soaking in the shared warmth between the two of you.

"Of course." You sink into his body, putting your full weight against him. His grip tightened around you. Taking in a deep breath, his eyes wandered from your relaxed expression to the window. Watching the night sky as you slowly drift off in his arms.

Feeling you go slack in his grip, Kurt looks at how relaxed you are now. Thumb moving back over your delicate features like a feather. Something he's done too many times now. But you're so beautiful to him. He can't help but want to touch you. Lips pressing the crown on your head, lingering longer than necessary.

"Ich liebe dich..." His eyes shifted back down to your face, waiting for a reaction he never got. Good or bad. It's just another confession that's gone unheard dozens of times now. No matter how much he's said it.

Smiling at your sleeping expression, he moves down the bed. Shifting onto his side to hold you against his chest. His tail wraps around your waist as he keeps you close.

Cherishing the little moments, he gets to pretend he has your heart... No matter how much it hurts his heart.

♡Thanks for reading♡

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Ten

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Later than usual, sorry! But I've been busy with a whole load of shit ngl, it's just been stress:) Let me know if anyone else wants to be added to the taglist though, I realise my updating is a bit sporadic? Maybe? Just a little? Lmao, anyway here's 10, hope you enjoy!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

Jacket potatoes were a fucking delicacy.

Any Brit back home would tell you that. You could top ‘em with all sorts; Chilli, Tuna, Cheese, Chicken, Stuffing, Coleslaw, Bacon, Gravy, Bolognese— some people even liked them plain. But my favourite, as well as the only real and true way to serve a jacket potato, was with an ungodly amount of butter and baked beans.

Being in the States, it was a rather hard dish to come by. But, seeing as Marshall always appeared to go above and beyond, beans (No, none of that shoddy American shit) could be found in the little basket he’d gone and gifted me the day before. A little wicker bowl full of goodies to soothe that little ache of homesickness. 

I smacked the can down onto the countertop and levelled Rosie with a long stare.

“You’re serious?” She asked me around a wary glance, extending her arm out cautiously to get a better look at the bright blue tin as though she thought the contents might just reach out to try and grab her back.

“Deadly.” I remarked, attempting to keep my smile hidden when I met her question with a raised brow, “You’ll love it.”

Rosie didn’t look too convinced about that fact and yet, she rolled up her sleeves and took a seat at the counter to watch me work, helping out with the few things that she could. 

She had waltzed in through the front door a while earlier, just a second after I’d made it up the stairs, and the grin she’d worn when she had spotted me had had my heart warming and the pair of us wandering into the kitchen, arm in arm and already talking at a mile an hour. 

I was sauteing some mushrooms in a pan after having peeled and diced them up, whilst she kept a keen eye on the warming potatoes. “So Dad’s finally found some inspiration then?” Rosie asked me after a while, peering into the oven.

I smiled when I peered over at her, seeing how the orange glow of it washed over the side of her face to softly illuminate her features. “Seems so, we got a lot done but he was on a roll by the end of it.” I told her in reply, shaking the pan again and blinking at the sizzle that sparked up, “What do you mean anyway? Finally.” I dragged out that last word in a small singsong which made her chuckle as she stood to her full height once more and turned.

“He’s been trying to write for a couple weeks now, I think. Or months.” She shrugged, stepping back to watch the mushrooms fry with a slight wrinkle of her nose, “Not sure, but he keeps complaining about it whenever he’s on the phone.”

With a small hum, my eyes flickered back over to her, then to the pan again, “He didn’t mention it.”

Rosie blew out a faint chuckle and leant back against the counter, knuckles wrapping around its edge, “Why would he? He hates jinxing himself.”

It was cute that she noticed things like that about him, something I’d begun to note in the short time I’d been staying with the two, but I didn’t know... A large part of me wished that Marshall would have said something about it before, or at least alluded to it. It made me feel a bit bad for bowing out so early now. 

Still, my mind was quickly recaptured by the task at hand and then the story that Z deemed to tell me about, apparently a teacher thought that one of her friends was a shoo in for these auditions that they had coming up soon. The familiarity of the scene made me think back to Lottie, to everything that was happening back home, and I wished, silently and not for the first time, that it could be possible for a person to exist in two places at once. 

The spuds took their time baking but soon enough they were ready and piping hot, fluffy on the inside and with a crisp exterior. Rosie gathered up the butter and cheese at my signal, face lighting up at the prospect of being able to drown her own in the latter, whilst I pinched the tops of the spuds with a clean tea towel and plated them up, spattering them with a small amount of herbs.

I was going to keep Marshall’s wrapped up in tinfoil, if only to save it from going all horrible before he had the chance to try such a delicacy, but thankfully he’d worked his way back up the stairs just in time. I wondered how he’d managed it.

“Hey, you’ve got table duty.” Rosie exclaimed as soon as she saw him bustling over the threshold, handing the cutlery she was already holding to him without a second thought, which caused Em to blink down at his hands whilst he struggled not to drop the sudden weight he'd just been shafted with.

“‘Scuse me?” Marshall prompted, brow furrowed as his gaze wandered about the rest of the kitchen. I wondered what he thought of the bubbling pot of red sauce sitting on the hob, as well as the absurd amount of butter both Rosie and I had already lumped onto our steaming plates.

“You can set the table, Dad.” Z explained as she jumped back to help me with the mushrooms, her voice edging the line of a whining lilt, “We cooked! So it’s only fair.”

Marshall stared at her for a second longer before he ultimately snorted, “Right.” He murmured, recapturing his hold on the silver he held and eyes finding mine, before he spun round on his heel and left the room once again with a small smirk. When he returned, his plate was almost ready and just about to be loaded up with– “The hell’s that?”

I withheld my snarky reply in favour of smirking when Rosie answered for me, her eyes widening in the face of her father’s obvious leery expression. “Beans, Dad. El told me it’s one of her favourite meals, she wanted to share it with us.”

It wasn’t hard to hear the undertone there, the kind that told him to keep quiet on how he felt about the bubbling bowl I was currently holding because Z obviously didn’t want me feeling disheartened in any way. It was adorable, as was the stern face she’d paired with it, the same face that her dad found hard to waver against. His shoulders slumped ever so.

“Right.” He repeated for the second time tonight, dragging the first syllable out a tad, “Looks good?” He tried. 

I had to laugh then, “That a question or statement, Mathers?”

His eyes flickered over to meet mine, but I motioned for Rosie to get a start on heaping the cheese we’d grated onto her plate, the girl’s responding grin was giant. 

“I–” Em appeared stumped for a split second before he eventually just pressed his lips together and decided to jump in on helping us. Although he did complain when he spotted the frying pan sat off to the side, “Mushrooms too?” But with Rosie’s short warning of Dad, Marshall only appeared to raise his hands in mock surrender and then moved over to grab the plates so that he could carry them off into the next room.

I shared a conspiratorial smile with the younger girl before we followed after him, the three of us settling into the same seats as we had occupied the day before. Marshall still looked wary, even with his beans being hidden beneath a thick layer of cheese that I figured he had reasoned to himself would mask whatever taste was under it, but Z, to my utter surprise, looked ready to dig in.

“Changed your tune there, lovely.” I mentioned with a sly smirk, my gaze lingering on her long enough to catch the sheepish reaction she bore before she just shrugged and dipped her head around a grin, fork already in hand.

“Smells good.” Was the excuse she used and so I softened my face into a smile too.

“Well you helped so of course it does,” I quipped easily, picking up my fork as well before nudging Em’s forearm, “Come on, you big baby. Just try it. If you hate it, I’ll order you whatever you want. On me.”

That had him rolling his eyes, but he picked up his knife and fork with a determined expression.

I bit back a round of chuckles I could feel bubbling in my throat and used my chin to getsure for the pair of them to get stuck in. Rosie was quick to tear into hers and I was silently thankful for the way the potato easily broke apart under her knife, its texture fluffy and golden.

“Oh wow, this is so good.” She blew out the second that she could, already moving onto her next bite whilst Marshall was still working his way up to trying his own. “When you first showed me those beans? I was so sure I was gonna puke.”

I snorted quietly at that image, perfectly content with the plate of home I’d gone and conjured up for us, whilst Em’s face wrinkled. “Well if you had hated it, you’d have only had your Dad to blame, he’s the one who bought them.”

“I jus’ looked up British shit, they were top five on every list.” Marshall defended before he finally took a bite, slow in the way he raised his fork to his mouth, his eyebrows raising a little as he let the taste settle in, “Shit.”

My eyes narrowed a tad around the smile that I was chewing on to keep hidden but I watched him cut further into the potato, beans and melted cheese puddling around the sides. “That a good shit or bad shit?”

“Three dollars.” Z acknowledged, voice muffled by the food she still had in her mouth.

I laughed at that and shook my head in fond amusement before I turned to Em for an answer. He took another bite, a big one, something I took to be a good sign, and just nodded. My brow quirked in hope. “So good?”

He hummed, one shoulder shrugging, “Ain’t gone die if I finish it.”

Snorting, I could only shake my head at him, hiding my smile behind my fist. “Idiot. You like it.”

Marshall rolled his eyes, though the gesture was obviously fond as he raised his fork to point at me, “Just grateful you didn’t burn down my damn house.”

Rosie’s giggles filled the room and with them we all settled in to enjoy. Marshall asked after his daughter’s day and the girl was all too happy to ramble and rant to him, face lighting up at the prospect of it. She mentioned her English lesson, the book they had started on and how her teacher had explained this one paragraph to her class, then she went into detail about the play that was set to happen just before the Christmas break. I chimed in here and there, putting in my two cents where it was worth, but in truth, I was perfectly content to simply listen and watch on. 

The clean up that followed was mainly made up of me and Z messing around and singing to the music Em had stuck on, never the type to linger in silence. The pair of us did manage to rope the man into joining us once he had loaded up the dishwasher though, something he thoroughly complained about but followed through on all the same. He was just a sucker for his kid's smile, I reckoned, went above and beyond for the girl and it was all too easy to see.

It was a lot later that we all fell into a comfortable silence around the tele, Rosie sat crossed legged on the sofa with her homework whilst I offered help whenever asked. Marshall had joined the two of us a little later, after his phone had rang and he’d stepped out to take the call, he’d padded into the room with only the explanation of ‘Royce’ before he’d fallen into the seat beside me. I’d hummed but was too distracted by Rosie’s newest question to prod him further on it.

By the time she had finished up, handwriting practically perfect, her books had fallen into a heap on the coffee table and she’d slowly but surely scootched her way further up the sofa. I kept my eyes on the tele when I’d outstretched an arm in quiet invitation but hadn’t missed the grin she’d given in turn before she’d settled into my side, head coming to rest on my thigh. I caught Marshall’s watchful stare from out of the corner of my eye but didn’t glance back over, smiling at the scene that played out on the screen whilst my hand smoothed over the girl’s hair. 

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed between us before Marshall’s quiet cough broke the peace we’d since created, but the sky was more of a hazy cast of dark blue now rather than the ruddy auburn that had lined it much earlier. I stifled a small yawn.

Rosie sniffed softly in my lap, twisting a tad to cast her Dad a quizzical glance. Throughout the duration of the film that Z had picked out for us to watch, the man had gotten close enough that he now only had to drop his shoulders to poke at her cheek.

“Bath and bed, kid.”

The scrunch that overwhelmed Rosie’s face at the order had me grinning and so I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before moving my hand to pat her shoulder. “Up and at ‘em, soldier. Heard what the old man said.”

“Do I have to?” Z huffed, just as a hand came up to rub at her eye. Marshall’s mouth ticked ever so slightly into an amused smirk, his fingers replacing mine in an effort to smooth the front of her hair. 

“School tomorrow.” He reminded her all too gently, dropping his hand lower to shuck the underside of her chin which only made the girl smile sleepily. “You know the deal.”

She sighed heavily in retort, but did eventually make the move to push herself up and out of my lap, legs stretching across the couch cushions before her feet found the floor. It was just as she went to stand that she turned to face me though, her expression a little meek but rapidly losing the residual somnolence it had just held. “Will you do my hair again for me tomorrow?”

I was caught by surprise at the question she’d asked. I wouldn’t lie, but I didn’t let the reaction show as I smiled warmly back at her, reaching out to tap a finger on the top side of her hand, “‘Course. Anything you want, lovely.”

Rosie’s little grin had her eyes squinting and forced the corners of her mouth to pinch upwards in a move that only deepened her dimples. She leaned over to give me a hug of thanks, whispering the word into my ear before she pulled away and rounded the sofa, kissing her Dad’s cheek on her way out.

“No messin’ about, Z. An early night, ‘kay?” Em reminded her, leaning against the back of the couch so that he could tilt his head far enough to see her, “I’ll be up soon.” He added, his words met by another charming grin whilst she shook her head in fond exasperation and slipped out of the room, leaving just the pair of us and the tv. 

It was a long while before Marshall disturbed the quiet once more, the film we’d been watching had finished some time ago and so now all that was playing on the screen was a couple repeats of South Park and the odd advertisement. “She’s different with you.” I heard him voice.

With a furrowed brow, I let my head turn to find him. He was perched in the same position he had been, but now with an arm stretched along the back of the sofa and a knee bent to fill the small gap that still separated us. “What d’you mean?”

When he replied, it was low and soft, a murmur if not for the sincerity behind it. “She don’t act like that ‘round nobody.” He told me, fingers jumping in a steady rhythm on the back of the cushion, his eyes peering between mine. “Me, sure. She’s a fuckin’ koala when she wants to be, but with other people… it’s something she second guesses.”

His words confused me. Or rather, threw me. “I don’t get it.”

He dropped his gaze, blowing out a small but mirthful huff through his nose, his thumb dragged along the edge of the sofa. “You known her what, three days? And she don’t think about gettin’ close to you. Sure she’ll be coy with it, sly even, but that’s ‘cause she don’t wanna overstep with you. Like that right there–” Em said, getsuring his chin out towards my lap, I followed the gesture, then blinked back up at him, remembering the way she’d approached me, “She don't do that with people.”

My face must have given away to the fact that I was still trying to process the weight of what he meant, because his smile was soft, warm even.

It made me think of Lottie, who was always so open with her affection, who gave it out without thought or focus, her smile always great, always there. Then of myself. I tended to avoid affection where it mattered, a reason as to why I’d never let many people too close to my heart, why I hadn’t had something fulfilling to divulge when Marshall and I had spoken about past exes, I supposed. It baffled me to see some of the same tendencies I’d shown growing up in Rosie, in a girl too sweet, too loving, too happy to be so aware of how to guard herself.

I looked to him again and let him have his fill, allowed him to see how his words, the sentiment behind them, had pierced through the armour I’d long since moulded around myself. 

One side of his mouth lifted and he used the hand resting on the back of the sofa to circle my wrist, leaning in a little closer, filling that previous gap. “Ro’s had her mom, her sister. They’ve been there. They love her, and she loves them. I know that. But with Kim, it ain’t always parentin’, it’s fun and games. It’s showin’ off, not showin’ up. It’s messin’ around until she finally grows–” 

He paused there, eyes flickering left and then right as his tongue swiped over his lower lip, almost as though he was resentful of the term he wished to use. 

He settled for, “Bored. Or maybe jus’ tired, you know? She’s there until it's her time to step up and do the job she’s ‘sposed to, til it's missed recitals and forgetting pick-up, that’s when she reacts. Pulls away.”

He sighed, gaze caught on his fingers, on the easy way they engulfed my wrist. His thumb brushed over the freckle that dotted the bone, and continued on through a slow exhale, “Ayla, she’s a lot older. She does her own thing, she’s got school, work, friends. Z obviously filters into all that, but there's always been a small divide. I like to think it’s just ‘cause of their ages– it’s how me and Nate worked growin’ up, you know? But there’s this whole idea that fuckin’ messes with my head, like maybe it's all down to me. Ayla’s my niece, but she’ll always be one of my own. I love that girl as much as I love Rosie. More than life itself. But I know I hurt her, havin’ her here, watchin’ me fail and fuck up whilst she was growin’ up. And jus’, maybe I can’t help but wonder if I ever let her know that enough, that I loved her, if it’s that that’s impacted her relationship with Z.”

I was quick in my attempt to soothe his doubts, the hand he didn’t hold jumping over to lay across the top of his own. “I’d call you an idiot, but I reckon you already know that.” I chuckled halfheartedly, though my smile was genuine when his eyes snapped up to meet my own, “You’re an amazing father, Em. I honestly believe that with my whole heart. And it doesn’t take much to see it either. I mean, I was here not even a day and was so quick to see the love you held for your daughter. I saw it in your reactions too when we called, when you spoke of them, however brief it was. I haven’t met Ayla but I don’t think I’d have to for me to see that your worries are just that, worries. I’m sure that girl loves you in the very same sense that I am sure that she knows you love her. That you see her as much more than just your niece.”

My thumb trailed over the back of his hand, skimming knuckles, taking in their slight discoloration, the faint white lines that could have only been age old scars. I dipped my head a tad so that my gaze could align with his shadowed blues, prompting him into lifting his eyes from off the floor.

“I’m also honoured that you think Rosie’s comfortable enough around me to mention the gravity behind it, that you’d trust me with her company, let alone her affection.” I said sweetly, gifting him another smile, it was close lipped but one that appled my cheeks. His stare caught onto it, fingers tightening around my wrist by a fraction in a squeeze that showed only his appreciation. So I squeezed back, fingers fastening over the top of his fist. “Z’s hard not to love, she’s all of your best parts and more. Sometimes…” 

I took a small breath, fretful over saying what I had intended to until Marshall met my flickering gaze once more, silently prompting me on. I swallowed thickly, feeling the force of it travel through my throat, but did follow through, “Sometimes it’s just hard raising kids, I guess not everyone’s made out for the harsher reality of it all. Of having to be a parent and not a friend. I mean, it was forced on me in a way, I’ve been raising my siblings since Danny the day came along, since before I knew what being a mum meant. What one was.” The weight of that admission had me reeling for a split second, at the truth it held. But I pursed my lips before allowing my eyes to find Marshall’s once more, “Kim, I’m sure she tries, I’m sure it’s more than my mum ever did, ever could do, but it’s okay for you to fear that it’s not enough for Z, too.”

Marshall worked his jaw, blinking for a second before he eventually spoke, voice rasping with the emotion he felt. “Kid deserves the world.”

I found myself grinning at that, the teary kind which glossed over your eyes but was strong enough that you couldn’t prevent the fluid motion of it. It was without thought that my arms came up to wind their way around his neck and I relaxed further in the gesture when I eventually felt his face come to rest against my shoulder.

“She does.” I murmured, hand cupping the back of his neck, fingers resting over the fine hair which lined his nape. “She does.” I heard myself repeat again as my eyes slipped closed. 

When we parted, I watched as Em knuckled the corner of his eye, grunting faintly to clear his throat and rid the room of any tension that then clouded us. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch, but did look away towards the tele when he started to shift once more, giving him a sense of security that he hadn’t been caught out, that I wouldn’t dig too deeply into his reaction. 

“Thanks.” He murmured after a stunted moment and it was only then that I glanced back over to him. I smiled in turn.

“Nothing to thank me for.”

When we parted ways for the night, I chose to head on up to bed, mind so full of thoughts that I found it hard to latch onto a singular one, whilst Marshall stopped at the bottom of the staircase to gift me a quiet goodnight, eyes caught on the reflection of moonlight that crept its way across my cheek, the sight mirrored on his own face.

I didn’t know it then but I would eventually, he’d never felt so inspired.

So as I’d slipped beneath my duvet, my mind stuck on the words we’d shared, Marshall was back down in the studio, writing away once more. But this time, it was for a completely different reason.

[joocomics]

ಬ fuck buddies: part three

part one | part two | part three

pairing: fuckbuddy!yangyang x f!reader x loser!winwin

genre: smut wc: 2.2k

contains: sub!reader, hard dom!winwin, love triangle, friends with benefits trope, toxic relationships, jealousy, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, (consensual) angry sex, masturbation, face fucking, gagging, hair pulling, face slapping, degradation kink, name calling

“come on, just show me!”

“why?!”

“why?” yangyang's lips pucker up as if he's thinking over your question carefully, but he’s simply just acting like a fool. “because i want to know what you liked so much about it.”

his tongue makes a clicking sound of disappointment when he sees you rolling your eyes at him.

“oh, c'mon, you must have wondered the same about some of the girls i hook up with. you should understand what i'm talking about.”

“yeah, i have, but i don't ask you to fuck them in front of me.”

“i would, if you ask me to,” he replies with no hesitation. “anytime.”

“did you plan this? together?” you turn to winwin who hasn't uttered a single word since he walked into the room.

he stutters once as he assures you he knew nothing about this and looks down at his lap when yangyang opens his mouth again.

“it was all my idea, don't blame the poor guy.”

after that, for a moment the three of you just sit still in a sudden silence with your mind not leaving you rest for a second. you stand up on your feet and start walking around the room trying to figure out if agreeing to this would have the affects you want on yangyang. you want to show him that you can feel pleasure without him; that you can act like an even bigger slut for others and enjoy it.

but this means using winwin as a pawn.

“are you seeing her boobs for the first time? you haven't stopped staring.” yangyang looks at his friend with a smile - not a genuine smile, but a mocking one.

you turn around and answer on his behalf.

“no, i've sent him nudes a couple of times so he's seen them already.”

it's the truth.

you haven't met with winwin after what happened that night, but you kept answering every text of his although you know the right thing to do is to ignore him, because you don't want to have any kind of romantic involvement with him, and based on his messages, that's exactly what he's hoping for. for that, yangyang was right - obviously, winwin gets attached very easily. you should've seen it coming since he hasn't been in a single long term relationship, but you didn't expect him to obsess over a girl who's been ignoring him since day one, and has been talking nothing but shit behind his back.

you knew it was wrong to lead him on and yet you didn't stop flirting back. when he sent you a photo for the first time, where he was gripping his boner through a pair of sweatpants, you asked for more. the exchange of pictures continued until he asked you out and you declined the offer. then he asked you out one more time, but your answer stayed the same and that’s when he stopped reaching out. several days later - you’re here.

the only response yangyang gives is a short, mirthless laugh. except annoyed by this new information which winwin didn’t let him know about, he’s also surprised to hear that you’ve started sexting somebody so early on. it’s not like you.

his gaze moves with each step you take towards the bed. it concentrates more on your body as you straddle winwin’s lap and intensifies the moment you strip him from his shirt.

you adjust winwin’s glasses before forcing him on his back. as you lean down into his face yangyang earns a proper view of your ass once it rises up in the air.

“are you mad at me?” you peer into winwin’s eyes while recollecting your last conversation. he’s staring at you too, and you can see he’s hurting; and looking so charmingly as he does so. “i know you are, i’m sorry.” your whisper caresses his skin as you guide your lips to his neck; pressing open mouthed kisses and sending warm waves into his body through kitten licks. “i want you to let it all out on me now. just like last time. don’t hold it in.”

the kiss feels like another apology, but in a different form. winwin cannot resist the delicate touch of your lips and the way they lead his like they want to make up for the time you spent away from each other suppressing your desires. he forgives you, but he cannot lie, he does want to show you how much exactly you drive him crazy, because you seem to not realise it.

once you’re flipped on your back with no panties to hide your excited clenching, he removes the rest of his clothes, meanwhile yangyang leans back comfortably in his seat, anticipating to see how the scene will unfold. he needs to know what exactly keeps you thinking about his friend who’s always had the loser etiquette attached to his personality.

you’re laying between winwin’s legs as he levels his cock with your mouth which is watering at the appealing sight of his toned figure. you feel yangyang’s focused attention on you, but it cannot shift away yours that’s fixated upon winwin’s flushed tip that will soon separate your lips. once his length fills your mouth inch by inch you look up, but not for long as he begins to push further into your throat… again, then again and again until you squeeze your eyes shut and try to keep breathing.

the lewd gagging noises excite yangyang who quickly realises he’s never fucked your mouth in this position. he observes with interest how winwin keeps his hips moving rapidly as if your mouth is a sex toy he can use for as long as he wants while his one hand pulls at the roots of your hair almost angrily.

“shit,” yangyang exclaimes quietly, “make her choke, man.”

winwin is not fucking your throat, he realises, he’s abusing it. until soon enough your nails sink into his thighs and he pulls out, groaning loudly above you.

“fuck, win—“ you pant heavily after coughing while rolling onto your chest. you feel dizzy and sore, but so aroused.

the hazy feeling in your head increases when you turn around only to earn a slap on the cheek.

your cravings are being met one by one... and the exhilarating feeling this brings into your heart is what makes you worry that it will be hard to distance yourself again after this.

winwin’s demanding fingertips dig into your cheeks, signaling you to refocuse on him. once he catches you making an attempt to speak he tilts your head with another slap so you only end up staring at him, with drooling lips and chest rising excitedly.

there it is, he thinks to himself, that weak submissive gaze of yours that he never thought he would ever be able to see again. he’s ready to do anything to own it.

“you’re not gonna say a word, okay?” he says and the way you nod without thinking twice brings him indescribable satisfaction. “i really don’t want to hear your fuckin’ voice right now.“

his fingers move from your reddish cheek to your heat; your whole expression transforms once they slip inside you, finally turning that lingering desire in your core into blissful reality. an erotic sound escapes you while he forces them deeply inside, allowing yangyang to hear how wet you are for someone that’s not him.

“yeah, you can moan as much as you want, but no talking.” he states, emphasising on the word no with a firmer change of tone and one last warning glance at you.

your teeth grab onto your lip furiously when he enters you with one strong push. he slides all the way in through your arousal, smoothly, but with slight pain that makes you cuss shakily. it already causes you a new slap which lands stronger than the last one.

yangyang’s hand tugs down his underwear to get a hold of his erection, almost unconsciously, because he’s in trance with what’s happening in front of him; in his own bedroom. now he understands why few days ago you asked him to slap your face. he only laughed, because he thought you couldn’t be actually wanting it…

the grip on his leaking cock tightens the same moment winwin’s hand reaches for your throat. his friend’s voice shakes a bit, but it still manages to sound demanding when he speaks up as yangyang starts to ease the pressure by slow steady strokes.

“keep your eyes on me.” winwin notices you can barely keep them open as he pounds into you with force. this brings him pleasure almost as big as the way your mouth hangs open because of the gradual lack of oxygen. “look at me while i fuck you dumb... yeah, there you go.”

the moment the climax washes over you, hitting you in one overwhelming wave of buzzing delight, your scream clashes with yangyang’s frustrated groan as he forces his hand to delay his orgasm - winwin is not yet done with you.

he has your legs shaking while you stand poorly on all fours, spreading wide and whining from the on going sharp thrusts. you put all the effort you can to keep your body steady, but you fail, so winwin tightens his fist around your hair to keep you from falling forward.

“i’ll fuck you till you turn into a brainless whore,” he hisses once you’re pressed against his warm chest. “because that’s how you like it.”

every time he utters something at your ear, the burning rush doubles inside you; each word is another intoxicating sensation that makes you anticipate what you’re going to hear next.

“and you’re still going to run back to me, wanting more of this…” for the first time his hips slow down, letting his cock glide calmly through your squeezing walls - steady mellow rhythm that can’t compare to the thumping of his heartbeat against your back. it's like he wants to make sure you will register properly everything he has to say. “you want me just as bad.”

you almost agree, but you remember on time that you’re not allowed to speak. his last sentence before your head gets pushed down into the mattress sends shivers down your spine: choose wisely.

yangyang didn’t hear most of what winwin told you just now, but he did hear those two words, and they make his blood boil, because he agrees with them.

he rests against the back of the chair and quickens the pace of his fist. he keeps it sliding along the mixture of spit and pre-cum; his size keeps twitching at the sight of your bent body getting overstimulated from behind, your head shoved into his sheets that are getting soaked by your tears, his friend’s hand pressing against your skull with roughness that he himself has never used on you; calling you names that he's never thought of calling you before.

before he knows it, his cum shoots all over his bare stomach from the way he’s been synchronising the movements of his hand with the intense speed of winwin’s hips. quiet cusses slip from his lips as the freeing warm feeling settles beneath his skin; it frustrates him how good it felt.

you, on the other hand, are waiting for the after effects of your second orgasm to fade down as winwin alternates between pulling out and gliding his cock up between your slick butt cheeks. you finally open your teary eyes for the first time in a while, provoked by his hand that suddenly pulls your hair; not roughly like earlier, but just enough for you to know you should move.

your fluids trickle down your inner thighs as you kneel still, watching yangyang appear in front of the bed. for a moment the fog which is slowing down your brain was so bad that you completely forgot the complicated situation you found yourself in.

winwin takes your wrists to hold them together behind your waist, like he wants to prevent you from touching yangyang who's now on the bed too. that's how it feels, but he remains silent and lets his friend lean forward. he lets his face get closer to yours, lips centimeters apart.

“so that's what you're into now?” an intrigued grin forms on yangyang's face as his eyes explore your fucked out features stained with smudged makeup. you look so hot that he gets the strong urge to run his tongue along your messy skin.

this makes you remember an old conversation you had with him once. you both agreed that you enjoy fucking different people, because you get to explore different parts of yourselves.

“i like this just as much as i do what i'm usually into,” you reply with voice sounding almost drowsy. hopefully, he understands the exact meaning of your answer.

he simply nods while pressing his lips together. his jaw tenses as the seconds pass.

“me and winwin didn’t like sharing our toys when we were kids.” yangyang looks up at his best friend behind you.

in a way he is still the same guy he's known his whole life, but at the same time he sees unfamiliar parts of him that he's never expected to have to confront one day.

there’s a glint of spite in the eye contact, but also a mutual understanding. they’ve both came to the same conclusion and they don't need to exchange a word. they've learned to read each other's expressions years ago, and now their determined faces signify more than enough.

winwin nods silently and yangyang moves his gaze back to you.

you know where this is going and you feel your heart clench before he even says it.

“i don’t think we will start now, baby. i warned you, didn't i?”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[genderfluid-insomniac]

Sorry for late response, got distracted. But yea I do! I was wondering if you could do headcanons of his crush who is like very dorky cute and just very kind to him whenever she sees him with Mk and Mei. Like the first time they met and he blows up like fire when angry they said “ you’re so beautiful.. ” and every time they see each other it’s like a golden retriever so excited to see him lol and actually has a obvious crush on him. Doesn’t hide it at all and is blunt about thier feelings.

Redson x blunt!golden retriever!reader who is dorky cute and just very kind

The first time you met Red Son was when he tried to take over the weather station and you were in the station surfing in the water area when you saw him stomping around angrily, finding him curious and letting the wave bring you to the shore. It was no shock that you found him gorgeous with his fiery red hair and attitude to match and seeing him made you stumble on your board when you first saw him.

When he did take over the station you hid and grabbed your board, hiding behind one of the pillars as another group of people came in trying to fight him. From listening in you learned that they were Pigsy, Tang, Sandy, Mei, and MK who you recognized to be the Monkie Kid. However, things quickly went south when everyone was either captured or forced out and you were one of the only ones left. hearing footsteps approaching you and reflexively smacking the attacker with your board.

Lo and behold that person or demon rather was Red Son who looked pissed off and hair bursting into flames, blushing at the cute demon in front of you and snapping out of it when he went to chase you. “I’m sorry! It was a reflex and technically it’s your fault for sneaking up on me but you’re pretty cute so I was staring.” You heard some shouts of support and someone hyping you up; unfortunately, he caught you and left you with the other until MK came and freed you guys. Mei apparently was the one who was hyping you up and both MK and her quickly became your friends.

As Red Son showed up more and more you always were obvious about how you felt, complimenting him or his impressive inventions and machines. A couple of times he blushed because of how nice and happy you were to always see him either asking about his work or how he was doing, finding himself dealing with his newfound crush on you and trying to suppress the bubbling excitement he felt whenever he saw you.

Both MK and Mei caught on quickly to his crush and knew you liked him so they ruthlessly teased him and you hinting at the love you both shared. Red Son was still deciding if you liked him back even after all he’s done and working up the courage to confess to you compared to you who is waiting for the right moment when a disaster isn’t hitting the city.

[idlenight]

humbly asking you for more info on leo ortiz (if you want to ofc!) because everything i hear about him makes me fall more in love

Humbly (but elaborately) answering!!! I love my son - the fact that i advertised for his death to my GM non-withstanding, ignore that.

Leo Ortiz aka Starbright was my character in a game of Masks: A New Generation that is run by my dear friend @vin-ill. (he doesn't post all that much on here but he's a creative genius and I stand by that as his friend, dm, and player).

For those unfamiliar, Masks is a ttrpg based on the 'Powered by the Apocalypse System' (pbta for short). The main draw is that you play a teenage superhero. You are figuring out who you are, who you want to be, and what others (adults especially) want you to be - and whether you want that too.

the TL;DR about Leo is that he's a hypocrite, he never wanted to be a hero, is deeply self-sacrificing, kind of aloof and a dick but cares so much. And that he loves his brother despite everything.

If you want to long version on Leo's history, then take a peek below.

Leonardo Nathaniel Osborn aka Bryce Brilliant started out as the 'Star' playbook. Playbooks aren't like dnd classes, the idea is that you play an archetype. In this case the concept of the Star was being a Hero Influencer, who has an adoring fanbase.... but also obligations that come with that.

(above is the first page of the star playbook I had customised with my own art of Leo :D)

Before being a hero, Leo was a child-actor. When he came out of a car accident with light based powers, his mother created the hero persona 'Bryce Brilliant'. She was his manager and being a hero was just another role he played. His half-brother Logan (older) had been jealous and spiteful of this, he wanted powers, he wanted to be a hero.

When teaming up with a couple of other kids to save the day, his mother insisted they become a superhero team (aka the other players). Their team name was the Bryce Brilliants. They even had a Shoe brand sponsorship.

(first drawing of the entire squad, from left to right: Sam aka Saber, Leo aka Bryce Brilliant, Carey aka Carry, Sky Lee aka Justice)

In the team Leo first learned how to have proper friends teammates, and see being a hero as more than another role to play. Eventually he met Johanna Ortiz, the women he got his powers from.... What you thought they awakened naturally? No his mother bought these powers, she owns the Brilliant name, she owns the right to these powers. Powers that were grafted onto her son.

This is the moment Leo changed playbooks from the Star to the Protege.

The Protege playbook gives the player an NPC who is their mentor, they have a label they embody, and that they deny. (labels are like stats, but they are constantly shifting and are about how you see yourself vs how others see you). If you wanted to play a Robin type character you would probably pick the Protege. This is when he took on the superhero name Starbright.

(above is a screenshot of the Protege mentor labels, to give you an idea)

Leo moved out of his mother's home mansion, and moved into Johanna's trailer. It was quite the culture shock for the boy who would've unironically have said; "I mean it's one banana michael, what could it cost? ten dollars?".

He didn't get to stay a protege for long, as only a few session after he got uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Posessed.

Long story.

TL;DR: power dampening crystal was ground up and put into the water supply. Mixed with an entity that my GM called a 'Hydra-nt' (hydra creature made of water). So it became somewhat sentient and started serious shit all across the city. I failed a roll so fucking bad my guy got possessed by said goo and booked it into the direction of the Gotham to our Metropolis.

The team finished saving the city before going to the Worst City Imagineable(tm) to stage a Leo themed rescue. I played a character named Dr Lovelace (phd) aka Deckard Lovelace at this time, he was a child genius and earned his PHD when he was like, 12 or smth. He had mechanical limbs. i luv him. He never quite got into a hero persona but i had the name Dr Gizmo ready for him. He was the Brain playbook.

(some out of context memes from said rescue mission i found looking for smth else. David is me btw, hi.)

The team found Leo, he got exorcised with the power of friendship and this gun i found. (yk i dont remember exactly what happened, i think Carry did smth fucky with some uhhh power dust she had recently accidentally snorted which was absolutely not Deckard's fault. don't look at me)

the TL;DR of all that is that Leo was possessed by something that was aligned to one of the Five Powers That Be in this universe. Specifically he was possessed by the embodiment of the Abyss, emptiness. We ruled that going from Nothing to once again Everything that Leo was before changed his powers (and him) fundamentally. From then on Leo was the Nova, playbook. (also I made a tiktok about Leo not actually being dead at the time - wow did that not age well. not because it sucks, i still think its funny, but because he is kinda dead now)

The Nova playbook is build around the concept of having amazing godly powers, but little control. You could do everything and anything, but at what cost? Leo's powers become more cosmic than simply light based as a result. (smth smth becoming the sun itself, instead of the light it sheds)

(also HI obligatory new superhero outfit after life changing events 💛💛💛. The jacket used to belong to Johanna 💛💛💛)

A bunch of stuff happened after they got back. Leo changed his name from 'Leonardo Nathaniel Osborn' to 'Leo Ortiz', to officially move away from his birth-mom and align himself with his adoptive one. He broke into prison a little bit to talk and start the healing process with his brother Logan (oh yeah forgot to mention Logan was briefly a villain and Leo got him send to prison). Met a new teammate (an old player returning with a new character). Somehow kept collecting and aligning himself with the OTHER 5 powers that be, which I wasn't even actively trying for yknow. And yknow, fought a religious organisation for a bit.

One that Deckard is totally not responsible for gaining power, nooooo.... Don't look at me. (he just gave their leader a back of magical power dust in exchange for getting information on Leo during the rescue mission ok. it's fine, literally....)

At the climax of that arc, said leader tried to achieve godhood. And using the Nova's 'Moment of Truth', Leo took all of said power inside himself. Completing the 'powers that be' collection in the process, and shooting up far into space where he's become this kind of... shining star.

The moment of truth is an un-lockable playbook feature, where the player takes brief control of the narrative using the guidance of a written out blurb on the playbook. The above image is the MoT for the Nova playbook.

In his death he has created a new power in the universe - the power of friendship. No im not fucking kidding. The list is now: Potential, Tempest, Abyss, Sublime, Architects, and Leo with the power of friendship (and this gun i found).

Figuring he was too volatile to survive very long, he wrote letters to important people in his life. Letters I actually wrote out and printed, and were handed out during play to Players and NPC alike. They were read aloud and it was all very emotional, tears were shed.

A small excerpt from my favorite letter, written for Leo's brother:

Hi Logan, I love you. We stopped saying that to each other at some point. I can’t recall exactly when, I just knew you stopped saying it back so I did too. You know my friend Fleur? Her mother was pretty fucking bad too, and her older brother took her and ran one day. Sometimes I wish either of us had the courage to do the same when we were kids. I’m glad we kind of got there in the end. I’m sorry we lost so much time. I'm sorry we won’t have any more. (the letter continues here but its too long for this already long post)

Leo holds a very very special place in my heart. And he's like, super fucking dead now, and I wanted that to happen. Biting myself for that, evil bastard who does that to a character ಥ_ಥ.

If you got this far, thank you for reading! I love you 💛💛

[sjsmith56]

A Better Man, Part 2 - Foundation

Summary: After talking with her best friend, Natasha, Andrea reconsiders Bucky’s offer. Natasha visits the offices of Barnes Contracting to meet Bucky, coming to her own conclusions about the nature of the business.

Length: 4.6 K

Characters: Andrea, Brock Rumlow, Natasha Romanoff, Mrs. Parker, Steve, Sam, Bucky.

Warnings: Flashback of Rumlow is not pleasant, grief over a relative’s death, Natasha’s suspicious nature (with reason), otherwise mostly fluff.

Author notes: Andrea’s backstory is revealed. Dumbass alert.

<<Part 1

Part 2

As soon as Bucky suggested Andrea move in with him, she immediately thought of Brock. It wasn't fair of her to compare the two men; she knew that, but Brock had used the exact same words within days of them meeting each other.

"Move in with me," he said, his hands firmly on her arms. "Baby, I'll take good care of you. Whatever you want is yours."

"But I hardly know you," she replied, looking up at his rugged face. "We've only had a couple of dates. Isn't moving in together kind of fast?"

"Not if it's meant to be," he smiled. He rubbed her arms, his bicep muscles practically straining against his suit jacket. "Listen, if you want to take a trial run, we can do that. Stay with me for the week."

"What will I tell my parents? I still live with them."

He smiled, his hands moving down to her waist and pulling her close to him. It was possessive, yes, but there was no denying that he exuded a masculine energy that thrilled her in a very primal way.

"Tell them you're house sitting for a friend," he suggested. "She has a pet that can't be left alone." He bent his head towards her neck, scratching it a little with his stubble as his warm breath raised goosebumps down her arms. "It will be a week you'll never forget."

He hadn't lied about that part. For a week Brock treated her like a queen. Out for dinner every night at restaurants she could only imagine about going to before she met him. Then on to clubs, walking past the lineups and being allowed in without so much as a second glance. It was heady stuff, and she totally got caught up in it. The sex was amazing, although a little on the rough side and he didn't always use a condom because they interfered with the experience for him or it took too much time to put on, but he was so masculine and unlike anyone Andrea had ever met. Then, in the few weeks after she went back home to live, promising to seriously consider his offer, Brock Rumlow began pulling away from her.

"Sorry, baby, but I gotta work tonight."

How many times did she hear that excuse? Seriously, how much work did a so-called contractor need to do at night? Then there were the dates he cancelled by phone. She could hear the club music in the background as he made up all sorts of excuses why they couldn't go out. Until he stopped phoning completely, around the same time she began feeling sick. Except she wasn't sick, she was pregnant. She showed up at the building where she first saw him. The large overhead door was open this time and she could see many cars inside, all in various states of repair, or so she thought. He was standing out front with several of the employees, smoking and laughing at some joke.

"What are you doing here?"

That's what he said to her, in a tone that wasn't very friendly. No hello, no how have you been, just a question asked in such a way that she knew he didn't want to see her. He agreed to sit in her car so they could have a private conversation, and she told him about being pregnant. He laughed ... he actually laughed.

"You're sure it's mine?"

She wanted to hit him then, to spit in his face, claw his eyes out, call him every name in the book but he didn't even give her that opportunity, because he got out of her car, then leaned in before he shut the door.

"Don't call me or show up here anymore. I got nothin' to say to you."

That was it. She was set adrift and when she told her parents they pushed the boat even further from shore, telling her to find somewhere else to live. She packed her bags and went to her grandmother's house. That woman, bless her heart, took her in with a warm hug, made her cocoa, then listened to her cry her heart out.

"What are you going to do about the baby?"

She could get an abortion. Certainly, she was pro-choice, as was her grandmother. But it was a choice and something deep inside her said she wanted this, even if the father was a lousy, no good, lying son-of-a-bitch, motherfucker. So, she decided to have the baby and began laying the foundation to have her own family. Screw her parents. Screw Brock Rumlow. She and Grandma would be the parents of this child, with no regrets of any kind.

Lily was born, with her namesake grandmother at Andrea's side during the birth, an amazing woman who gave her comfort. It was wonderful to see them together; great grandmother and great granddaughter, two lilies of the field, as the elder Lily often said. Then she died, a heart attack as she prepared her garden in early spring, and once again Andrea was set adrift, alone in a stormy sea, except for the light that her daughter gave her. When she found out that her grandmother left her everything, she vowed to live as the older woman had; fully engaged and loving the world with all of its beauty. If it were only that simple.

After Bucky left, Andrea locked the door then picked up her phone and called her best friend, Natasha. When she answered it took all of Andrea's willpower not to cry.

"Why are you calling so early?" asked her closest friend. "Aren't you supposed to be in the middle of a date?"

"I told him to go," she answered. "Nat, he asked me to move in with him."

There was silence for a bit. "Okay. Maybe give me some context."

Andrea explained how dinner was fun and then they began to look at the areas of the house that needed fixing. He identified a new roof, new windows in the one bedroom, a possible exterior leak for the ceiling stain in the corner of the living room, then the big one.

"The electrical panel," stated Natasha, already knowing the biggest issue of the house. "What did he say?"

"Exactly what you said. Copper and aluminum don't mix, the fix is expensive and would require that we move out. I told him I didn't have anywhere else to go and he offered me a room in his apartment. He even said we could work out payment and emphasized that he wasn't trying to take advantage of me. Said he would be willing to be the general contractor for it and handle the tradespeople."

"Hold on a second," said her friend. "Unlike that Sitwell jerk, he told you the truth about the extent of the work needed for your place, and he can find you the right people to do the job. Then he offered you a place in his home, with no strings attached. How dare he be a guy trying to be nice."

"I know, I know," sighed Andrea. "When he asked me to move in, I had a flashback to Brock, and you know how that turned out."

"Yes, ultimately, you ended up with a baby girl who is the light of your life, that everyone adores because she is the cutest little flower in the world."

"You think I should have said yes to him." Andrea braced herself for the answer she knew was coming.

"Yes! Not every guy is trying to get into your pants. There are gentlemen out there and you just tossed one aside because you're still dealing with how Brock hurt you."

Of course, Natasha was right. Bucky had been a gentleman with her the entire evening. Even when the light in the basement burnt out, he had held her respectfully, not taking advantage of her in the dark. He left without complaining and apologized for offending her with his offer. There had been no name calling, or faux outrage, or anything that indicated he was anything other than a nice guy. Andrea groaned. She didn't even give him a chance. The roses were on the table, and she looked at them.

"What do lavender roses mean?" she asked Natasha, who was into that stuff.

"Love at first sight," said her friend, a little too quickly. "Did he bring you lavender roses?"

"Yeah. That's not being pushy, is it?"

"Did he say he loved you?"

"No, but he did say he liked me, a lot."

They didn't say anything to each other while they contemplated what it all meant.

"I think you need to talk to him. At least, lay down some ground rules and see how he reacts to that."

"Okay," breathed Andrea. "Tomorrow, I'll go see him. Wait, I can't. Lily is getting vaccinations tomorrow and she'll be grumpy for the rest of the day. I'll see him the day after."

"You promise?"

Andrea promised then ended the call. She would go see Bucky again.

The next day

Natasha looked at the building wondering if this was the right place. There was no exterior sign but when she looked up Barnes Contracting on Google this was the address she was given. It was in a decent neighbourhood by the looks of the buildings around them. They were all in good repair and this building, although plain in appearance, seemed well maintained. With a quick breath, she pushed open the door, seeing a standard reception area. There were four doors leading elsewhere; two of them closed and two open. A nice-looking dark-haired lady was stationed at the desk.

"Good morning," she said pleasantly. "How can I help you?"

"I wish to speak with Bucky Barnes."

The lady's eyes flickered briefly to one of the closed doors. "He's not available at the moment. May I ask what it's about?"

"I've come to talk to him about a mutual acquaintance," replied Natasha. "Andrea Hart."

"I can help the lady, Mrs. Parker," said a man's voice and the red head looked at one of the open doors. For a moment, Natasha forgot everything about Andrea as she gazed upon the tall, muscular blond man who stood in the doorway. He was impressive, with his sleeves rolled up and several dark tattoos visible on his forearms. "Is Miss Hart alright?"

"Yes and no," answered Natasha. She looked at one of the closed doors. "Is he here?"

"Yes and no," smiled the blond man. "I'm Steve. Please, come into my office, Miss ...?"

"Romanoff, Natasha is fine," she said, moving towards him.

He stepped back to let her past him.

"Mrs. Parker, would you let Sam know of our visitor when he arrives but don't say anything to Bucky just yet." He winked at her. "I don't think he's in a mood to listen to reason at the moment."

"Of course," smiled the older woman. "I'll handle him."

Steve closed the door, waiting for Natasha to sit before he did, then took her appearance in; the red hair, attractive and fit body, her determined face. He had noticed the effect his appearance had on her and to be fair she made him feel all sorts of things in return. If he had met her elsewhere, they would have already been flirting and probably making out but if she was here about Andrea and Bucky, then he needed to focus on the task at hand.

"I'm going to bypass any formalities and assume you're here to get Bucky and Andrea talking."

She smiled and the warmth inside of him spread a little further.

"You could say that. She called me after she told him to leave. I wanted to explain to him why she said what she said."

"I'm listening." Natasha reacted to that phrase, frowning at him, so he clarified. "Bucky is my best friend. We've known each other since we were boys. I bug the life out of him, but I love him like a brother. He hasn't had the best track record with women, and we thought he and Andrea might have something special beginning. When she kicked him out of her house last night, he took it hard. He's been quite the bear this morning."

Tilting her head slightly, Natasha considered his words and decided to trust him. There was something in the way he carried himself that seemed sincere.

"She had a flashback to her previous boyfriend, the one who got her pregnant and wouldn't acknowledge the baby as his. It scared her because he asked her to move in with him after only a couple of dates, then ghosted her a few weeks later, just before she began getting morning sickness."

Steve nodded his head in sympathy. "It's understandable that Bucky's offer would set off all sorts of warning bells."

The door opened and Sam came in asking about that shipment of tablet computers they were handling. Then he saw Natasha and clamped his mouth shut before blurting out an apology.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you had company."

"Didn't Mrs. Parker say anything about our visitor?"

"She's in the break room, I think. Who do we have here?"

His flirting smile made Natasha grin. Him mentioning a shipment of tablet computers meant these guys were definitely not legit, but they were still quite charming in a roguish sort of way.

"Natasha," she replied, holding out her hand to him. He bent over it and kissed her knuckle. "Andrea's best friend."

Sam stopped kissing her fingers then looked up. "Is she alright?"

Withdrawing her hand from his she smiled mysteriously. "I'll say one thing about you two. You're both concerned about Andrea."

"We like her, and Lily is adorable," said Steve. He looked at Sam. "She said Andrea had a flashback to Rumlow and that's what made her say no to Bucky's offer."

"Well, that makes sense," said Sam, plopping down on another chair. "How are we going to fix this?"

"You guys know about Rumlow?" Natasha looked from one to another. Of course, they would know him or of him. "He's with the competition, isn't he?" The two men looked at each other nervously, making her laugh. "I kind of had you made when I didn't see a sign on your building. You're on Google but what kind of contracting business doesn't have a sign? Obviously, one that doesn't like to have attention drawn to it, at least not the normal kind of attention."

"We're on Google?" Sam searched his phone, then jumped up and left the office.

She and Steve smiled politely at each other, not speaking, then Sam came back in. "We'll take care of that." He turned to Natasha again. "So, how do we get this situation between Andrea and Bucky resolved?"

"Well, I talked her into coming in to see him, and explaining why she turned him down, but she can't do it until tomorrow, as Lily is getting her six-month vaccinations today."

Sam winced. "Poor little thing. She's going to be very grumpy." He noticed Natasha smiling at him. "I have nephews, and I remember." He had a wistful look on his face, then he shook it off. "Go on."

"I guess you just have to make sure he sees her and gives her a chance to explain." She shifted in her seat. "He is serious about her, isn't he? She can't take being abandoned again. First Brock, then her parents kicked her out when she told them she was pregnant. Her grandmother took her in but died when Lily was a month old. She's named after Andrea's grandmother."

Both men were listening to her in rapt silence. It was kind of sweet, actually, reinforcing Natasha's belief that despite their obvious occupations, these men were decent. Steve breathed out.

"We'll make sure he listens to her, won't we Sam?"

The other man nodded emphatically. Feeling that she had accomplished what she wanted Natasha stood up, surprised when the two men stood up immediately with her. They had manners; she was a sucker for manners.

"I'm going to go," she said. "It was nice to meet you, Steve, Sam."

She held her hand out to shake theirs. Steve held her hand for several long seconds.

"Are you seeing anyone?" he asked.

"No, are you?"

"No. We could grab a bite to eat sometime, if you like food."

Sam almost choked, putting his hand up in apology as he tried to breathe.

"I like food," replied Natasha, ignoring Sam's outburst. "What about him?"

"Let him find his own date."

"I have another friend," she said.

"Yeah?" Sam's grin split his face. "Is she nice?"

"You want nice instead of beautiful?"

He shrugged, the grin still on his face. "Being nice makes a woman beautiful. That's my philosophy. I think you're nice."

Natasha felt her cheeks go warm. These guys were on another level. Going out with them could be a lot of fun or the biggest mistake of her life. She chose fun, grabbing a post-it note and writing down her phone number.

"Call me when you've set something up and I'll bring my nice friend," she said. "We're not into the club scene all that much but do like to be appreciated and treated with respect."

"We can do that," replied Steve. "It was nice meeting you, Natasha. We'll get Bucky and Andrea sorted out."

She waited for Sam to open the door for her, noticing he let her out first. Their manners were doing all sorts of things to her. Mrs. Parker was at her desk.

"I was going to say I hadn't seen Sam yet, but it looks like he found you," she said. "Bucky hasn't come out at all."

"Thank you, Mrs. Parker," smiled Steve. "We've got it covered. If Miss Romanoff here, calls or phones again, you can just refer her to me. I'll talk to her anytime."

"Good to know," the older woman smiled, then answered the phone. "Barnes Contracting, how may I help you? I'm sorry, he's not taking calls at the moment. Would you like to speak with Mr. Rogers or Mr. Wilson?" She put her hand on the microphone of the handset. "Sam? Line 1. It's about that shipment ... you know, that special shipment?"

"Right." He saluted Natasha and ducked into his office, closing the door, leaving her and Steve in the reception area.

Escorting her outside, Steve stood with his hands in his pockets, suddenly unsure of what to say.

"Do you do any legitimate contracting work?" she asked delicately, voicing what she suspected.

"Yes, the three of us do have our general contractors' licences and we earned them the right way, with a lot of hard work and study," answered Steve. "It's a competitive business so we have to be open to alternative revenue sources at times. Bucky's grandfather started the business, then his mother took over before handing it off to him. She's kind of like a mother to all three of us, making sure we conduct ourselves properly." He looked squarely at her; his blue-green eyes focused solely on her. "Is that a problem?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no." She shook her head as if she were deciding something. "I believe that all three of you have a line that you won't cross, which is good. You do care about each other and I'm sure you care about Andrea. I just don't want her to be hurt again."

His face softened. "We want the same thing. A woman badly hurt Bucky a few years ago, and it's made him uncertain at times, especially at how some of the compromises he's had to live with would make most women walk away. But he is honest; I swear to God. I could see him leaving the compromising nature of our business behind if he had the right partner in life. Sam and I think Andrea could be that person. She would be worth it."

She didn't know why she did it but Natasha suddenly kissed Steve on the cheek, then she walked away, turning back once to see that he still watched her from in front of the building. If she wasn't careful herself, she could easily fall for him. That might cause all sorts of problems.

The day after that

Natasha was called into work, so Andrea had to bring Lily with her to see Bucky. She walked towards Barnes Contracting, surprising the people along that route who noted it wasn't her usual day to walk there, especially on a day like today, when rain was forecast. Was she that predictable in her walking routine? It was threatening to rain. Maybe, she should go back. But she did promise Natasha that she would speak to Bucky and she knew her friend wouldn't accept a little rain as a reason for not going. Finally arriving at the building, she began to panic then the door opened to a dark-haired lady looking at her with motherly concern.

"Miss Hart? Is everything alright?"

"Yes ... no," she admitted, wondering how this woman knew her name. "I think I changed my mind."

The older lady looked up at the sky. "Looks like it's going to rain at any moment. I think you should come inside and wait it out."

Almost on cue, the rain started to fall, and Andrea pushed the baby stroller past the woman and into the reception area, the first time she had been inside the building. It was plain but clean and certainly seemed well finished. As she stood just inside the door, the receptionist bent her head over the stroller, obviously taken by Lily, who was cooing up at her.

"She is such a darling," she crooned at the baby. "May I?"

With her permission, the woman picked up Lily, holding her in the crook of her arm as if she had held babies for most of her life. Lily responded as she usually did, with smiles, gurgles, and a fascination with everything around her. A closed door opened, revealing Bucky, who stared at Andrea and Lily, seemingly surprised to see them. The older lady looked at him with a smile.

"Bucky, your 10:00 is here. Go ahead Miss Hart. I can watch this little doll all day long."

He stepped away from his door, waiting for Andrea to approach and enter, then closed the door behind her, waiting for her to sit before he took his seat. For some time, he sat with his hands folded on the desk and his mouth set in a straight, grim line.

"You made an appointment?" he finally asked.

"No, I didn't," stammered Andrea. "I'm surprised she said that. I just walked here, almost didn't come in but it started to rain, and your receptionist said to wait it out inside, then your door opened and there you were."

Scowling a little, he sat back in his chair.

"We've been set up," he muttered. "They've drawn Mrs. Parker into this." He looked at her and sat forward again, trying to be friendlier. "I am so sorry that I sprung that on you. I really didn't have ulterior motives. It was just an offer to help you out because I know you're going through a difficult time."

Andrea shook her head. "It's okay. I overreacted. What you said was how Brock asked me to move in with him and I had a flashback to that moment." She clarified that statement. "Brock is Lily's father. We had only been out a few times before he asked me to move in with him. I talked him into a week's trial and within a week of moving back with my parents he began distancing himself from me. A week later he started ghosting me. Two weeks after that I found out I was pregnant, and he told me to leave him alone."

"Bastard," grumbled Bucky.

"I said worse about him," smiled Andrea. "I'm sorry I told you to leave. It really was a generous offer."

"It still stands," said Bucky, trying to keep a neutral tone to his voice and manner, while inside he could barely contain himself. "I'm in a position to help, that's all."

There was a knock on the door and Mrs. Parker came in with Lily. Instead of giving her to Andrea, she put her in Bucky's hands. He held her out at arm's length, unsure of what he should do with the baby.

"A shipment is here, and the language from the truck driver is atrocious," said Mrs. Parker. "I can handle it, but I don't think little ears should be assaulted by that kind of language." She smiled at him. "You can cradle her in your arms. She likes that."

Without another word she left the couple, and Bucky looked at Lily, then at Andrea, who was amused, knowing a setup when she saw one. Lily squealed and kicked her legs as Bucky settled back into his chair, trying to remember how his sister held her dolls when they were little. When he looked up at Andrea, she grinned.

"Not bad," she said. "Lily's happy."

"I've never held a baby before," he admitted. "It's kind of nice. She's a nice baby."

What he really meant with the second nice, was that she was a beautiful baby, and he was smitten. She likes me. Look at her. She's so beautiful and perfect. How could Rumlow not want this?

"So, um, I would like to take you up on your offer," said Andrea. "How do we do this? Should we sign some sort of agreement? You know, where we determine how we're going to share your apartment; who does what and when? I don't mind cooking but I'm not much for keeping a place looking perfect. It's hard with a baby and she sometimes keeps me up at night, so I would try to keep her quiet, but it doesn't always work that way. I think we should do our own laundry as I have enough with a baby to do it every day. I can contribute to groceries and even pay you rent, if you want."

He looked from Lily to Andrea, a laugh just bubbling away inside of him just trying to burst out.

"We can figure it out as we go along, can't we?" He put his finger near Lily's fist, smiling as she grasped it hard. "I'll get some of my guys to move the crib and anything else you want into my place. It's best if we put the rest of your possessions into storage while we're working on the renovations. I can tell you from experience, that some other problems might be revealed as we begin fixing your place. It's just a fact of life with these older brownstones. They're worth the investment though. They don't build them like they used to."

"Okay, we'll work it out as we go along," agreed Andrea. "Please, if it ever gets too much, tell me. Be honest."

"I will," he answered.

Outside, in the reception area, Mrs. Parker watched Bucky's door. When Sam and Steve walked in, noticing the baby stroller she put a finger up to her lips, then nodded her head while smiling. They gave each other a high five, then Steve texted Natasha that it seemed things were going to plan. The two men disappeared into their offices, attending to their normal workday routines.

Part 3>>

Series Masterlist

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[transtuvok]

you're doing alright kid ❤️ love ya ❤️

I'm not sure how long this has been in my inbox but thanks for checking in. Today has been much harder than many because I really do miss my dog. I'll actually attach a couple of pictures of the old man for you.

I trained him to grab a sword toy from me and it was so cute. He always loved learning new games and playing. I think my cat learned to play fetch by watching us play together.

And this was a walk from this year. We went on daily walks until he started to decline in early April. Our last long walk we did was about an hour and a half and that was on March 31st. He used to be able to go on much longer walks but I made sure I didn't put too much of a strain on him as he got older. I taught him last year to "get hype" for a walk and he'd get so excited.

Here's another picture of him in a sweater because it was just so adorable on him. He would've been 14 on the 25th.

[fingertipsmp3]

Sentence that just left my mouth: “he’s married?!?! WHO GETS MARRIED”

[gaytobymeres]

writing an email in response to a very kind garden historian who has sent me so much information, and im paranoid that 1) i cant write well or clearly, 2) that im writing an email that is so long and boring, and 3) i just feel it might be unnessecary. or maybe im making unjust claims (except im not really claiming anything im just saying 'theres evidence that points to x instead of y') but ive never properly studied history or researched like this so i do feel a bit out of my depth

[tonycries]

Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) - C.K.

Synopsis. When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Pairings. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, babysitter! Choso, male masturbation, voyeurism (from reader), Choso with nipple piercings and eyeliner hngh, unprotected, 69, choking, overstim, oral (male + female receiving), creampie, dirty talk, friends-to-lovers, Choso is down BAD and always has been, mentioned younger brother, swearing. 

Word count. 9.0k

A/N. Gojo longfic next time because I miss my pretty blue-eyed princess.

Your younger brother’s new babysitter was hot.

With a capital h. 

Scarily hot, in fact, that it made you wonder why the hell people stopped having babysitters past the age of 14.

Ah, Choso Kamo, the ever-elusive eldest son of the Itadori’s from next door. You still remember the first time you met him - well, mostly. 

The world was rocking gently at exactly 12:34AM after a night out with your old high school friends. And so were you, stumbling tipsily into your driveway, soaking up the warm summer air. 

Fumbling with the doorbell, you fully expected your parents to still be away on that extravagant couples’ cruise they’d won - one that probably cost more than your tuition.

Which also meant you expected the old lady from down the street to be babysitting tonight. Still wide awake and absolutely bursting at the seams to give you a detailed rundown about the neighborhood tea - who’s divorcing who, and her top suspects for who stole her prized garden gnome. 

What you certainly did not expect was for that door to swing open and to find yourself face-to-face with the most ridiculously attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shirtless.

Dazed, your eyes involuntarily sweep his figure from head to toe - taking in every inch of those dark, sleep-mussed locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner, all the way down to the chiseled- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Alas, the universe isn’t on your side, and you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly the door slams right in your face, almost rattling off its hinges at the force. The sound echoes in your ears as you blink in disbelief at what the fuck that was. Was that real - was he real? 

You double check the address you’ve known for years - just in case - because, hell, if you were dreaming then this was a damn good one. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on something that won’t make your head spin before reaching for the door again.

But before your finger could even graze the doorbell, it cracks open once more. The same mysterious man towered before you, this time - you note, with a tinge of disappointment - wearing a snug t-shirt that still doesn’t do much to hide that godly physique. 

“Not that m’complaining, but who’re you and why’re ya in my house?” you manage to slur out, voice betraying the shiver that runs down your spine at his intense gaze. He simply leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression unreadable. 

“Choso,” he drawls lightly, eyes never leaving your face. Shit, even his voice was hot. 

You nod slowly, mind racing as you blearily try to remember just where you’d heard that name before. Some family friend? Nah, you’d know him if that was the case. An actor? God, he sure had the looks. 

Mercifully sensing your struggle, he clears his throat, snapping you out of your drunken reverie. “Not surprised you haven’t seen me around, sweetheart, but my parents live next door.” he offers, tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t place. “M’babysitting your brother for tonight.”

You almost don’t hear the second part of his explanation, because it hits you like a ton of bricks - oh shit, this was Choso? Choso either-a-hallucination-or-a-vampire Kamo? 

In all your years of having the Itadoris as your neighbors, you’d only seen fleeting glimpses of their eldest son - a flash of black hair at the window, or a sculpted, tattooed arm waving off Yuji at the doorway. And, well, you didn’t know what exactly you’d anticipated. You just didn’t expect him to be so…hot. Or stand half-naked in front of you.

God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol. 

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. Yet Choso still hears, quirking an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything alright there?” he hums, the hint of a tease in his tone. Smug bastard.

You nod your head, clutching onto the doorframe for support as you lean in closer. “Mhm, perfect.” Wait- was that a blush dusting his face? Damn, this dream just keeps getting better and better.

Liquid courage coursing through you, you bat your lashes, too tipsy to even attempt a wink, “Well, Choso, let me know if ya need any help babysitting, jus’ know I’m always down to-” 

And then - perhaps to save you from the embarrassment of an awful pickup line - that’s when the universe decides to remind you of exactly how many kamikaze shots you’ve downed. The world lurches beneath you. Your hands scramble for something - anything - solid.

Ah, falling down really does feel good, especially when the ground is so warm, and soft. Smelling faintly of vanilla, with a hint of sunshine. 

And then it’s all black. 

To match his eyes.

---

The smell of vanilla still lingers in your mind as you slowly pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming in through your window. Groaning, you feel as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Five of them, in fact. 

Trying to will away the pounding headache, you bury yourself deeper into the snug covers of…your bed…that you’ve been tucked into? 

Oh shit. Sitting up with a gasp, you hastily try to rub away the sleep from your pointedly makeup-less eyes, remnants of last night now flooding back to you with a surge of embarrassment. 

Choso. Shirtless. Babysitting. Shirtless. But most importantly - your awful display of drunken flirting. The man appears once in a blue moon and you hit on him? Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

And just as you’re entertaining the idea of convincing your parents to move neighborhoods, you realize with a jolt that he must’ve been the one that carried you up here and took care of you. Even after all of that. 

With a sigh, you rub your temples, wincing as it throbs at the laughter carrying from downstairs - one of them so decidedly Choso. Deep voice ringing in your ears, you can almost feel the lingering traces of his strong arms holding you flush against his chest, or the warm hands gently wiping off your eye shadow.

And it seems Choso had a penchant for interrupting your barely-lucid thoughts, because the door creaks open, ripping through the heavy silence in your room. Heart in your throat, you startle as Choso carefully steps into your room, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“G’morning,” he says, voice so gentle that some small, strange part of you thinks you could listen to it forever. “Feeling any better?”

You offer him a sheepish grin, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory of your drunken antics. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for... well, everything.”

Chuckling softly, his gaze softens as he steps closer, taking in your slightly-disheveled appearance. “It was the least I could do, sweetheart. Now, c’mon, your brother and I are making pancakes.” 

You fidget nervously under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious even as he turns to leave the room at your silence. Say it, you idiot. Say it. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to... y’know, act like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time-” 

“It’s al-”

 “I swear I’ve seen ankles-”

A large hand cradling your cheek, his thick rings searingly cold against your chin as he tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze - and those suspiciously red cheeks. “S’alright, sweetheart. I didn’t mind.” 

And, well, if this was his way of shutting you up then by God was it effective. Because you didn’t trust yourself to speak even as Choso gives you an easy smile. Even as he withdraws his hand, the air thick with something you were too hungover to overthink about. 

Not until he turns back to the door, flashing you a teasing smile, “Besides, it was kinda cute.”

And with that, Choso steps through the door with the audacity of someone that hadn’t uttered words that sent your mind reeling. 

As the creak of the door echoes behind him, Choso’s warm touch still sears into your skin. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Only one thought rings clear in your hazy, still-hungover mind - one that makes your cheeks flare: this was going to be a very interesting summer.

You just didn’t realize how interesting it would be. Not until two weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after you first met Choso. 

It starts out innocently enough, taking the early shift at your internship, volunteering to help with the chores - you find yourself subconsciously making excuses to be around him whenever he’s scheduled to babysit.

You’ve probably learned everything there is to know about the man by now - from the way he likes his eggs (sunny side up) to that time he accidentally dyed his brother’s hair neon pink while trying out a recipe for homemade hair dye. 

Likewise, Choso happens to be the only one who knows that you were the one that accidentally caused that flood in your dorm that required five floors and two plumbers to resolve. 

At this point, Choso’s at your house more often than not - where Choso is, there is you, and where you are, there is Choso. And your brother…and sometimes Yuji, but semantics.

“Semantics” are probably why you find yourself rushing home straight from your internship, ignoring every invitation for an after-work drink - to see your brother, of course. No other reason - definitely not because of the way Choso will inevitably be there too. Or because of the way his smile makes something strange coil in your stomach. Or-

Okay, maybe you speedwalked up your driveway faster than usual a little bit because of Choso. But as you’ve said - semantics.

Yet, sometimes you even think there’s a familiar flicker of something more in those dark eyes.

…

Nahhh. 

Stepping into the yard, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the deafening sounds of splashing, a smile tugs at your lips at the awfully wholesome view that greets you.

Your brother and Yuji are locked in a fierce battle, water guns being brandished like the most seasoned warriors.

And Choso - towering over everyone else - was at the epicenter of the chaos, his laughter booming over the commotion. Shirtless. Again. 

His bare, tattooed torso gleams in the light, muscles flexing with each movement as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Droplets of water glistening on his dark hair like diamonds in the fading light.

Traitorously, your cheeks burn as you step closer, desperately trying to rip your gaze from the milky abs peeking out and the tantalizing glint of metal winking so sinfully at you under the sun.

So he does have nipple piercings.

God, you have to get your mind out of the gutter.

As you approach, Choso’s grin widens, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he scoops up a large water balloon and takes aim, launching it with frightening accuracy in your direction.

The icy water hits you before the realization, and you squeal in surprise as the balloon connects right with your chest, seeping into your shirt. Glancing down with a startled laugh, you realize a moment too late that your once-pristine white shirt is now completely see-through. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but the damage has been done. Smug bastard, you think, glancing up at Choso, slightly red-faced yet wearing a sly grin as he surveys the aftermath of his well-aimed shot.

“Shoulda just told me if you wanted a peak, you lecher. This shirt was expensive, y’know.” you call out, mock-glaring at the man that stood so infuriatingly beautifully in front of you.

Choso throws his head back in a laugh that makes something tingle all the way down from your toes to your burning cheeks. “Maybe you shoulda just kept your guard up, sweetheart,” 

You scoff, “Maybe you should stop being a distraction then.”

His grin widens, reaching for another nearby water balloon, “S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted. No need to be a sore loser.”

“Oh, it’s on now.”

“Well, well, looks like we have a new contender in the water war,” Choso remarks mischievously to the kids, gesturing towards you. Yeah, really smug bastard.

Ah, what the hell. This shirt was on sale anyway.

---

Now, Choso knows you’re hot - always has.

Ever since that first day he moved in next door, when he stumbled upon you sunbathing in your backyard wearing that sinful bikini. And, well, after hours of moving boxes upon boxes of Yuji’s dumbbells, the mere sight of you was like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him. 

But, especially now - all drenched and disheveled. Your shirt sticking to your curves like a second skin in all the ways that should be illegal - and also makes some strange part of him slightly jealous. Beaming smile directed right at him - shit, this might as well just be the final nail on his coffin. Death by you.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, you're a force to be reckoned with. Choso can barely tear his eyes off of you, breathless and victorious in pure adrenaline-fueled bravado, declaring “Beg for mercy and I’ll let you off easy, Choso.”

“Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”

Clutching a particularly large water balloon, raising your hand high high high - hurtling it straight at him with an unapologetic smirk, “Then, better run for your life.”

Oh? Maybe Choso was a masochi- what was that- 

A flash of his favorite lacy pink, your poor buttons faltering at the sheer force of your throw. Choso doesn’t even feel the cold splash! square on his chest as he’s drenched icily from head to toe. Too transfixed.

Too focused on trying not to make it obvious he’s mentally calculating the chances of your shirt coming off altogether…

Eyes locked on the sliver of soft skin peeking out at him. Only registering you and the traitorous rush of heat flooding his cheeks - and his cock - as he averts his gaze, internally smacking himself for letting his thoughts wander into such dangerous territory. 

Both thanking and cursing the gods above, Choso realizes with a pang that he’s not just screwed, he’s absolutely twisted, tangled, and tied up in knots.

So utterly screwed, in fact, that he probably needs to make a quick run to the bathroom now.

Like, right now.

Shit. 

With a muttered excuse of a bathroom break, each step more urgent than the last, Choso can’t help but wonder if the water balloon incident was some sort of cosmic punishment for his wandering thoughts. Some divine intervention from his ancestors for being such a pussy around you all these years.

And as he slams that bathroom door closed, bunches his pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, and takes his throbbing cock in his hands, Choso thinks he might just see the gates of heaven - well, at least he’ll be able to give his ancestors a piece of his mind there.

With a groan, he leans against the closed door, eyes scrunching shut as he takes his swollen cock in his fist. Leaking hot precum and glistening in the dim bathroom light. He grips the base tightly, pulsing and achingly hard for you. 

Cold rings searing against his skin, Choso wastes no time - wanting to get this over with and join you again more than anything - starting up a hasty, desperate pace up and down his length that makes his knees buckle. Tighter on the base, just teasing his furiously flushed tip. Pink. Pink to match your bra.

With you so sinfully soaked through, wearing that goddamn lacy bra out there, Choso wasn’t as strong a man to possibly get you out of his mind. He can’t help but imagine your sultry smile, how it would look wrapped around his cock. 

Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his throbbing erection. “Shit.” he breathes, “J-jus’ like that, sweetheart.” 

Head only filled with you, and your lips and you-

He milks his base tighter - would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around his cock? 

One hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist. The other reaches up muffle the fucked out moans leaving his swollen lips. God, it would take everything it had in him to not fuck up into your pretty lil’ mouth. Watch you cock-drunk and taking him so well. 

Or maybe…

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. Delicate beads of precum dripping onto the cold tile with a deafening drip! drip! drip! Smearing at the way he rubs maddening little circles under that one spot, grazing his sensitive veins. 

Maybe you’d be a a fucking tease - run your tongue under his pulsing head so agonizingly slow. Knowing you, you’d probably pull away as soon as he bucks his hips into your mouth. Lips swollen and glossed prettily with his precum as you whisper, “Now now, baby. If you don’t act like a good boy then you won’t get to cum~”

“Sh-shit, hah-” Choso thinks he’s going insane, he can practically hear your hums as you kiss along his length, tongue darting out to trace his throbbing veins so obscenely. Flicking at his sensitive head. Eyes sparkling - ready to positively devour him. 

All for him. 

It’s too much. 

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he moans hoarsely, letting out a low, fucked-out little call of your name. “More. Need m-more, sweetheart.” 

Body shuddering violently, sweat dripping from his brow, Choso’s thighs quiver as he fucks his fist at an almost-animalistic pace. Chasing his release with reckless abandon. 

Choso’s heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries - and fails - to maintain control. Raspy whines of your name escape through the crevices of his fingers, cracking ever-so-slightly in a way he knows he’d be embarrassed about if he was in a better state of mind. 

Giving up his futile attempt, long fingers snake down below to cradle his balls in a way he knows you’d do better. Tugging and pulling at a jerky rhythm that matches his hand. 

Some tiny, practical part of his brain hopes - prays - that you won’t call off the water fight early and come up to check on him. He knows he should hurry up, he knows he’s fucked if you ever found out. Shit, he should bake you apology cookies tomorrow.

But fuck are so you perfect for him. Voice so pretty and eyes so warm as you turn your gaze to his undeserving self. He’d kill to see if you still look at him that way when - if - he absolutely ruins you.

Would you be able to take all of him? Would you pout adorably until he shoves his dick down your throat? Gagging as he hits the back of your throat over and over - oh how Choso would love to mess up your mascara. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on his dick if he could. 

“Cum f’me, baby.” you’d mewl, and shit would he burn down this entire world to hear you call him that. “Mm, fill me up with your cum, wan’ taste you, baby-”

“Fuck,” he curses again, voice thick with need, and tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, sweetheart.”

You - all see-through white shirts and lacy bras that drive him wild. Giggling with the audacity of someone who isn’t making him slowly lose his sanity. You with prettily lips painted white with his seed. Cum and saliva mixing into a lewd pool on the sterile tile as you suck the soul out of him. 

You. 

And then he’s cumming. 

A raw, drawled-out keen of your name and he’s spilling into his fist. Thick, hot spurts of cum that paint his palms white in a way he wishes he could do to you. And behind his closed eyes all he sees is you - you you you-

You, dragging out his orgasm so torturously, lips decorated with his seed, dribbling down to your lacy pink bra, gushing so lewdly down your ready throat. You with your eyes dazed, lips swollen and quirking up into a fucked-out smile as he does so well for you - cumming, all for you.

You, with your wide eyes and disgust on your face as you realize just what he’d been doing on this suspiciously long “bathroom break”.

Shit.

Body still twitching with the shockwaves of probably one of the Top 5 orgasms of his life, Choso all but collapses against the bathroom door, panting heavily, utterly spent. For a moment, he lies there, wondering if this is what heaven truly felt like.

But as the euphoria of his high ebbs away into nothing but mere tingles, a slight wave of nausea crashes over him. 

Sighing, Choso reaches for the paper towels, ready to clean up his mess. If only you were there to milk him dry then he wouldn’t have to-

…

God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow. 

Now, when it started drizzling shortly after Choso left, you took it upon yourself to usher the kids back home and hand over his t-shirt personally like the good samaritan you are - out of the goodness of your heart, of course. 

Not for any reason whatsoever because you were hoping to get at least one more glimpse of those sinful nipple piercings up-close.

…

Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved. 

Either way, what you’d expected was for a flash of silver as you handed over his drenched t-shirt. Or maybe that familiar easy smile to warm you up from the icy water.

Literally anything but to find yourself frozen outside the bathroom door, cunt dripping, and ears ringing with the muffled echoes of his pornographic groans.

At first, completely mortified, your fight or flight instinct had kicked in as you realized just what those rhythmic, fucked-out little grunts meant. Only for you to choose neither option - staying rooted to your spot with the utterance of one, simple, word - your name.

Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening. Heart thumping louder and louder in your ears at each whine of your name. Shivers running down your spine - all the way to your wet cunt as it really sets in that this was Choso. And he was fucking his fist in your bathroom. To you.

And you didn’t mind?

In fact, you find yourself leaning against the door, thighs squeezing together - mere inches away from where you imagined him slumped against it. Soft strands sticking to his forehead, cock hot and heavy, aching for release. Ragged breathing as if caught off guard by the intensity of his own pleasure. Broken whispers of your name leaving him over and over-

Really, you know you should give him your privacy. But if the white-hot ropes of pleasure running up your spine are anything to go by then, well, is it really that bad?

You have half the mind to just reach down down down - just a little release. Almost jealous of Choso-

Click!

You’re sure you could rival Usain Bolt with the way you ran down those stairs. Cheeks flaring, his damp t-shirt still clutched tightly in your hand. Mind racing with only one thought - this little fuck wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

---

You can barely remember what transpired after your little discovery. You couldn’t decide who looked more dazed - you or Yuji, who was being practically dragged out that front door as Choso exited hastily with vague mentions of baking and cookies

And in the ringing silence that followed after that front door slammed, you couldn’t help the smirk that found itself onto your face. This was going to be fun.

But if there’s anything you’ve learned about Choso - it’s that even after twenty-something years on planet Earth, that man can not take a hint.

You somewhat had an inkling after the fifth time you decided to sunbathe in just a skimpy bikini at exactly when you knew he’d be watching. Well, you might not have gotten any reaction other than an extremely flushed face at the window, but at least you knew he’d have more very fun bathroom breaks.

Hell, one time you even bought ice lollies for the whole house - but especially Choso. Making sure those dark eyes followed every lick and trail of it dripping down your fingers under the scorching summer sun. Ultimately resulting in nothing more but a heavy gulp and for his ice lolly to hit the grass faster than it could even begin to melt. 

Ugh, should you get your brother to start another water fight? That went down well last time. 

It’s only after another failed attempt at trying to get him alone and a few hours of deliberating whether you should ship your interrupting brother off on a cruise too that you realize you have to get out the big guns.

“The big guns” being stealthily organizing a sleepover for your brother at the Itadoris, then inviting Choso over for a movie night. Simple, right? And, well, if anyone asked, you could just say the movie just so happened to be rated R. 

It wasn’t too hard to convince your brother that a sleepover with Yuji would be the best thing since sliced bread. The excitement in his voice palpable as he agreed, not suspecting a thing.

You just didn’t think it would be even easier to convince Choso to come over with a simple playful text of “Netflix no chill. Haha jk…unless?” But then again, when has Choso not surprised you?

And that night, as your brother eagerly headed off to Yuji’s place, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt - but, hey, it was for a good cause, right? 

It’s a win-win either way - your brother gets to spend the night with a friend and you get to be here, so achingly close to Choso on that couch. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, stealing glances at his sharp profile as the conversation flows easily about the movie playing on screen.

Shifting ever-so-slightly closer, electricity crackling between you two was palpable. You smile in anticipation, after all - you weren’t lying about the movie being rated R.

Now, Choso certainly didn’t come over to your house tonight expecting a wholesome rerun of Cars 2. However, he also wasn’t expecting the blockbuster action movie to suddenly unfold into something so steamy.

Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.

Eyes firmly trained on the ground, instead of the actress currently fake-moaning dramatically onscreen, Choso tries to ignore the subtle shift of your hips or the way the temperature in the room has currently increased by about 10 degrees. Or the way your moans would sound a million times prettier in his ears.

Alas, Choso was not a strong man, and he especially tries to will away the blood rushing straight to his cock right now - but how could he? You were such a vision of temptation, so close and warm and close to him on the couch.

This was absolute torture. 

“God, this is so painfully fake. Don’t you think so?” your voice rips through the deafening silence between you two, tone careful and balanced, startling Choso out of his little reverie.

His eyes flicker hastily to meet yours, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard by your sudden interruption. “Oh, yeah.” voice rough with a hint of nervousness. “I’ve seen better performances in middle school plays.”

You nod, the tension between you thickening as you lock eyes. “I mean, who even writes this stuff?” you continue, leaning in even closer to Choso, words positively dripping in sarcasm. “It’s like they’ve never actually had sex before.”

Choso lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he shifts subtly in his seat - but not subtly enough. Because you catch the way he desperately tries to adjust his now-uncomfortably tight pants. Success. 

“Yeah, exactly,” he clears his throat, ripping his gaze away from yours.

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - exactly where you wanted him. 

A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you lean even closer to the man. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two - you relish in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. 

“Choso, just a thought.” you hum casually, lips mere inches from his ear. “Wanna recreate the scene better?”

His breath hitches at your words, muscles rippling so deliciously beneath your touch. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he rumbles, lowly. Eyes darkened and unreadable.

You smile, heart pounding against your chest as your lips brush against his earlobe. “Absolutely.”

It was like something snapped.

Because then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. Because goddammit you haven’t spent the last month sneaking glances at those pretty lips for nothing.

Movie completely forgotten, Choso is warm under your touch - all sculpted chest and urgent pulses as his lips kiss you dizzyingly. Groaning lowly as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

He breathes you in with an infectious desperation that bleeds into his hands, wandering every inch of your skin - as if he didn’t have enough time. And he probably didn’t. Distantly, Choso thinks that no time in the world would be enough to absolutely fucking wreck you the way he wanted to.

Large, hurried hands grope your chest, squeezing so teasingly in a way that almost made you think he was trying to feel out what bra you were wearing - lacy pink. His favorite, of course.

You minx.

Urgently tugging the hem of your tight shirt over your arms, Choso tosses it god-knows-where. Mouth watering as he pulls away to greedily take in the heavenly view of your heaving chest - the same one he’s shamelessly fucked his fist to for too long.

God, you were perfect. With a soft, little oh! Choso leans down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Nipping, and tugging lightly. Relishing in the way you whine for his lips again.

Threading a hand through his soft hair, you lightly pull him back to you. Breath fanning his face, lips ghosting over his own.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

And, well, Choso didn’t have to be asked twice. Molding his mouth against yours once more. Letting your lips part, you intertwine your tongue so sinfully with his. He tastes just like he looks - so intoxicatingly delicious.

With a breathy sigh, he lightly taps the curve of your ass. Hands lingering for far longer than necessary, kneading the flesh in a way that has your skin searing. 

You get the signal. Urgently, you loop your legs around his waist. “Choso- bed.” you whisper, muffled in-between kisses. “Now.”

Shivers run down your spine at the way he chuckles darkly, “Honestly, sweetheart. I don’t even hah- know if we’ll make it there.” Mumbling against your lips, “Would you kill me if I take you right here right now?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t fucking do something.” you hiss, words dripping in desperation. Ah, but Choso, ever the merciful man, shuts up whatever other retort on the tip of your tongue with his own. Kissing you with almost-bruising intensity as he gets up from his seat. Strong arms securely wrapped underneath you, holding you flush against his warm skin.

Choso doesn’t pull away even once as he hastily makes the route to your room. And honestly, with the speed at which your back hits the soft mattress, bouncing at the sheer force at which you two fell on top, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he teleported there.

Now safely in the confines of your room, you all but rip off Choso’s snug t-shirt. Those familiar obscene nipple piercings winking at you under the dim lighting in greeting. 

“Always wanted to do this.” you murmur, surging forward as if on autopilot. Lips latching delicately onto the pretty pink nipples, tasting the cold metal on your tongue. 

“Oh- oh, fuck. A-always knew you had a thing hah- f’my piercings, sweetheart.” Choso breathes out, letting you have your fun. His favorite bra now at the foot of your bed. Fingers deftly sneaking under your skirt, blood rushes straight to his cock as he feels the positively soaked state of your panties - if you could even call them that. 

Sanity snapping, he immediately flings off your skirt. Throwing it somewhere across the room with no care or concern for where it ends up. All so he could look down at oh-

Oh god, if you had to describe Choso’s face as he takes in the sight before him - it would be absolutely losing his sanity. Your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing - all for him.

Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Choso hooks one, long finger under your slutty g-string, tugging impatiently.

You keen as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. Yet Choso’s eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric intertwined around his fingers “Guess you were expecting this, huh?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. 

Scoffing, you buck your hips up for something - anything. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that first night I hit on you, y’know,” you admit, the heady air of your room melting away any reservations you had previously. 

And that seems to snap Choso out of his trance - eyes flickering over to you, darkened with something so carnal that it makes your cunt throb. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles, swiftly stuffing the g-string in his pocket before leaning down, hot breath hitting your ear. “Now, what was that pick-up line you were gonna say that night?” 

You gasp in embarrassment, heat flooding to your cheeks at the memory. “Wha- that doesn’t matter. I was drunk and-”

Smack!

The delicious sting on your ass hits you before the realization that Choso smacked you. He smacked you. Even later do you realize that you like it - slick beading so obscenely at your sloppy hole.

“What was it, sweetheart?”

You shudder at the tone that leaves no room for argument. The words tumbling out of you as Choso caresses soothingly over the handprint on your ass. “I- it’s stupid. I was gonna say that I’m down to sit on your face, baby.”

“Thought so,” he grins, pulling away from the dizzying proximity. Shifting - well, more like manhandling - you to flip positions. 

God, you could almost sink into his muscles as he lays back on your bed. Voice low and dangerous as he utters words that go straight to your dripping pussy, “Now, sit on m’face.”

And before you know it, you find yourself hastily straddling Choso’s pretty face. Hands snaking down his milky abs, lips kissing along his tattoos, catching purposefully on his sensitive nipples. 

Warm breath fanning your quivering cunt, he reaches up to cup your ass, nudging your needy core to his mouth. Kneading. Groping. 

Not stopping his ministrations even when your slick oozes slowly, torturously through your swollen folds and onto his awaiting tongue. A maddening drip! drip! drip! ringing in your ears above your thundering heartbeat.

Choso groans at the mouthwatering sight above him. You - spread so shamefully open for him and clenching around nothing. 

“Luckily for you, sweetheart, wanted you to sit on m’face ever since I saw you.” sweet juices flowing down his throat, words muffled against your throbbing lips. 

He barely even gets the words out before he’s surging forward. Licking a long, languid stripe up your heated folds. Again. And again. Faster at the pretty moans that spill from your lips.

Pushing his tongue in between your slit, past that first, tight ring of muscle. Bullying it deeper and deeper. Chin pressing against your throbbing clit, ravaged at each movement of his face. 

He caresses your warm walls, relishing so filthily at the way you clamp down on him in surprise. “Hngh- oh shit, baby. Ah-”

Your sweet moans are music in his ears and shit - you called him “baby”. It’s as if every wet dream he’s ever had has come to life as Choso dips in and out at a ruthless pace. Pulling out to tease your dripping entrance, pushing past mercilessly into your plushy walls. In and out in and out in and out-

His cock strains so painfully against his pants at the way your sloppy hole sucks his tongue in so obscenely - almost as if it hurts to part. Tongue fucking you the way he wishes he could with his cock right now.

“Oh- Hah- Choso! Fuck, baby. S’good.” your body arches into his absolutely depraved tongue. 

Desperate whines spilling incessantly from your mouth at the way he quirks his tongue up just right to graze that spot he knew would have you grinding down on him for more. “Ah! Right there - jus’ like that!”

As if he knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to break you. You almost don’t notice the mindless, shallow little thrusts of his hips into your open palm. Almost.

Eyes snapping open at the tremors, you reach a hand across his quivering thighs. All the way down towards the very obvious dark patch on his pants - right where his furiously hard tip was leaking thick, relentless precum that made your mouth water. 

Oh, how you’d kill to taste him - see if the rest of him is as intoxicating as his mouth is.

So you do. 

Choso was so pussy-drunk in-between your thighs that you think he barely notices the way you fumble with his belt. Shakily pulling those pants down just enough to glimpse the rock-hard erection that those boxers do nothing to hide. 

“Shit,” you whisper, voice strained with need. 

You always imagined Choso had a big cock - but this was ridiculous. Your pussy clenches in both nervousness and anticipation as you imagined the delicious stretch of him splitting you apart on it. Breaking you. 

And that’s probably when Choso notices - you clamping down so filthily on his tongue. 

“Oh?” he rasps, voice sending white-hot vibrations of pleasure right up your spine. “Didn’t think you were so desperate for my cock, sweetheart. Gon’ make me cum, hm?”

Now, you’ve always thought of yourself as a woman of action rather than empty words. Which is probably why you urgently pull down his boxers. Choso’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs. 

You take a moment to admire the long, heavy cock in your hands - a deliciously pretty pink on top, furiously leaking glistening precum. Saliva pooling in your mouth - you shove it as far down your throat as you possibly could. 

Oh, how many times in his life has Choso imagined this moment right here. In the shower, right before bed, right after waking up too. You’re really a dream come to life. 

A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips as you take him all in one go. Only to pull back and spit once- twice on his throbbing cock. The steady stream of spit cool - followed so maddeningly by the warm heat of your mouth once more. You start up a torturous, filthy pace bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

He strains his head to catch a glimpse - even just one - of your nose pressed against his pelvis. Breathing in the heady scent at the tufts of hair at the bottom, already wet with precum and spit. His dirty girl. 

Popping off with a lewd squelch, “Feels good, baby?”

“Feels perfect.”

But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.

Immediately attaching his lips with yours once more, Choso dives nose-deep in your dripping cunt. Rolling your throbbing clit in between his lips. Flicking his tongue along the sensitive bud in a way that makes your head feel so light. He alternates between a slow, languid torture on your clit and fucking into you unforgivingly.

Your movements stutter as you teasingly lick at his sensitive slit. The salty flavor of his precum is probably your favorite taste now. That bastard.

Reaching down, you cup his heavy balls, massaging the tender flesh in harsh, hasty circles that match your mouth down his length - up and down up and down up and-

Muffled moans and lewd squelching filling the heated room. A rhythmic, sinful cadence that both of you were losing your sanity to. Movements more frantic now. Desperate to make the other cum. Desperate to be first.

Letting out soft, raw grunts, Choso fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth. Your eyes water as his tip abuses the back of your throat. And it makes you wish you could see how messy he looked right now. All smudged eyeliner and slick-glossed lips. 

Gagging around him, a mixture of drool and precum drips sinfully down the corner of your mouth as you increase your pace, pooling messily on his lower abs. Sloppy - so sloppy.

So it only made sense that your orgasms were the same. 

Pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming, you gush around Choso’s mouth with a stifled squeal. Stars behind your eyes, vision blurring, mind blanking - the only things you register being the languid tongue lapping up at your sweet juices and the guttural groan of what sounds like your name as Choso shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum down your throat. 

Throat burning as the salty taste fills your senses, you milk his cock for more more more- his dick pulsing and stuttering in your mouth. Cum staining the fresh sheets below - a problem for later. 

Right now all you were focused on was riding out your high, grinding almost animalistically on Choso’s pretty face. 

You’ve barely removed yourself from him with a lewd pop! before Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress. Two fingers squishing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout, cold rings digging into your skin. The other hand snaking in between your thighs to play with your still-twitching cunt. 

“Didn’t say we were done yet, sweetheart.” he mutters. You weren’t done - no, far from it. Because fuck a refractory period - both of you were going to take all you could get.

And before you can think of anything else, Choso is leaning down, hand prying your lips apart for him into a brutal kiss. Teeth clashing, lips bruising. He forces his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself before you barely get a chance to taste him as well. 

“Hah- fuck-” you flinch as he swears into your bruised lips. “So fuckin’ sweet. You taste so good sweetheart.” The sheer debauchery and ache of his cock too much for him. 

Tasting him. Tasting you. Both a heady flavor that leaves you yearning for more. 

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation, relishing in the drawn-out groan that rumbles into your mouth at this. The kiss is feral. It’s animalistic. It leaves you feeling so fucking dirty. 

And you barely recognise the dazed, predatory glint in Choso’s eyes as he pulls away, his mind clearly miles away as he spits once. Twice. Three times on your face.

The wads of saliva and cum hit your face with a warm, wet jolt. You whine at the way it seeps into your skin, dripping down your cheeks so fucking obscenely. Pooling at the sheets below in a way that makes you feel sorry for whoever had a shift at the laundromat tomorrow.

“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”

A fucked-out, delirious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you realize - yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Thank you.”

Not even when Choso lets out a dark chuckle, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out so shamefully for him. Dripping cunt spread for his greedy gaze and clenching around nothing - aching for him. Begging for him.

Not even when he lines up his still-rock hard cock at your entrance, tip - angry and red - weeping so desperately as he nudges at your sloppy hole. Dragging his head along your folds collecting every bead of slick, just grazing your pulsing clit. Every muscle in your body trembling and anticipating what was to come.

You mewl at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock. 

And especially not when he bottoms out inside you in one, harsh thrust. Burying himself inside your sloppy walls till his twitching balls smack against your ass. 

“Ah- hngh- oh fuckkk.” you keen in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving you uncontrollably. But not for long, because suddenly Choso’s shoving two ringed fingers in your mouth, bullying their way inside till you’re gagging and moaning around them. 

Pressing right at that spot on the back of your tongue that makes your eyes tear up so prettily. Hey, if he couldn’t see you choking on his cock properly, the least he could do is see you choking on his fingers, right?

“Now now, wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, hm? Our brother’s would get worried.” he chuckles. Pure, dark amusement in his eyes as he takes in your swollen lips, the teartracks down your cheeks, how utterly beautiful and debauched you look underneath him. So much better than any lust-hazed imagination of his.

And yet, even when you’re being gagged and split apart on his cock, you find it in yourself to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers as you raise a brow. “There’s no one else home, though?.”

The corners of Choso’s lips lift into a devilish grin, “The neighbors, sweetheart.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a chill down your spine. He’s just joking, right? Right?

“Wha-”

And probably because he was losing his patience - and partly to shut you up - Choso begins to move.

Pushing past the resistance, beginning to fuck into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips. Just little motions to get him off, groaning at how sinfully tight you were - the way you were sucking him up so good.

Next time, Choso thinks, reaching down a hand to draw tight, little circles on your poor, abused clit - next time he’ll fuck you right. Hours upon hours of teasing you so you don’t know what it feels like when you’re empty without him. 

But fuck does he think he could just about pass out right now.

There’s no going back now. Choso fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage.

Pulling all the way back so that his leaking tip just barely kisses your sloppy entrance, slamming down down down, Choso fucks you at a merciless pace. Relishing the delicious stretch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with a desperation that surpasses the need for reason. 

“Sh-shit, sweetheart. God, s’tight. better than I ever could’ve imagined.” he moans breathlessly, brows furrowing, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of you milking the absolute soul out of him just too much.

“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”

You yelp every time he rams his cock into you, the smacking of his toned pelvis against your thighs stinging almost as deliciously as his tip kissing your cervix. The obscene slapping of skin on skin makes your cheeks burn - both pairs as his heavy balls smack against your ass each time he shoves his throbbing cock into you.

And because you can’t leave him alone, of course, you find your nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders. 

Pulling him impossibly closer. You want more. You need more. 

Maybe you say those words out loud - you don’t even know anymore, too delirious and cock-drunk from Choso and your last orgasm and Choso - because his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, mouth falling open into a small oh. Your cunt twitches at the surprised, fucked-out little laugh that leaves him,  “More? My sweetheart wants more?”

And, as you’ve come to learn with Choso - anything you want, you will get. 

“Then fucking- take it.” he grunts lowly, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust of into your plush walls that sends both of you spiraling deeper and deeper into insanity.

And God does he make you take it. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits - both your cunt and your senses as he leans down to bury his head into your neck, hips moving so sloppily, hiking your leg further up his shoulder. The change in angle making you see stars.

Your hips buck up in tandem with his, uncontrollable little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. You whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room, “Yes. Yes yes yes- wan’ cum. Need more. Need you-”

“Fuck- Hngh-” is all he manages to gasp out, pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Choso’s balls twitch almost painfully as they keep smacking your ass. Brain still not keeping up with his body because shit, this is all he’s wanted for years, the least he could do is make you cum before him.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart.” he rasps into your heated skin, “So close- m’ so close.”

You all but sob at his words, “M’too- hngh- ah, m’gonna cum, baby.”

You didn’t expect the petname to be what breaks him, but then again you didn’t think there was anything more left to break. Because Choso groans gutturally, cock twitching inside you “Shit, you’re driving m’crazy, y’know that?”

“I know.” you mewl, voice breaking at the way he increases his frenzied pace on your clit. You could barely even call them circles, just filthy little movements to get you closer and closer to the edge. So close. You writhe beneath him, desperate for release.

And what you didn’t expect was for Choso to connect his sweaty forehead with yours. You take a second to admire just how beautiful he is - all smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, your release still shining on the lower half of his face, and yours. All yours. You could probably stare at the sight forever.

Choso’s hot breath fans your face as he moans breathlessly against your lips, words slurring together as he ruts into you mindlessly, “Always did, y’know?”

“I know.”

“No- y’don’t hah- understand, I- for so long fuck- I-”

“Choso, just kiss me.”

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. A slow, tender little dance that doesn’t match the way he rams his cock inside you. 

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - clamping down desperately on the harsh, jerky movements of his glistening cock that fuck you so sinfully like his little slut. 

White-hot pleasure runs down your spine, or maybe that was Choso - painting your insides the prettiest white you’ve ever seen. Shooting thick, hot ropes of his seed into your waiting pussy. A creamy ring forming around his base as he spills his cum into your snug cunt as he moans against your lips.

It’s messy. It’s sloppy. And as Choso fills you to the brim, hips still unforgiving, seed dribbling out of your dripping pussy at the way it was so overfilled - you think that it’s all you could ever want. 

As his cock twitches finally, exhaustedly - and you distantly wonder how the fuck it isn’t seizing up - Choso collapses onto you, thoroughly fucked-out. Finally pulling out with an obscene squelch, you hiss lowly at the pool of cum that forms beneath you. Gushing out of you sinfully. 

A weighty silence in the air as you both try to catch your breaths.

In the haze of your orgasm you realize that even after all that transpired, he still isn’t laying his full bodyweight on you.

Too afraid to break you.

To break whatever this tender little understanding in the air was.

And it makes some part of your heart clench so delightfully. Subconsciously, you thread a hand through his damp hair, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and sunshine - and the heady scent of something so Choso. It makes you intertwine your body so impossibly close with his, not knowing where one of you ends and the other starts.

“My parents are coming home tomorrow.” you start, casually. 

“Mhm. But I’ll still be around here, sweetheart.” Choso rumbles into the crook of your neck. Kissing soothingly over the marks he’d made in the heat of the moment - some carnal little part of him proud of the way you looked like you were fucking thrown to a pack of wolves. 

Words hiding a tense little fear beneath them as you probe further. Something prickly and scared rolling around in your stomach. “For babysitting?”

“Nope.”

Settling deeper into the covers, basking in the afterglow of him. You know you should get up and clean, but right now this was all you wanted. And maybe no other words were needed. 

“God, am I glad your parents aren’t home.” 

Except maybe those. 

You chuckle as you pull back to stare into those deep, dark eyes. Cheeks flaring at the tender little warmth in them much more than they had when he was fucking you so sinfully. A devious idea coming to mind - because now that you got a taste, you were absolutely hooked.

Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.

“Well, we still have time so how about-”

A distant click!

“Honey, we’re home~!”

Shit.

A/N. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be called Timeout! but it was giving too much me during beep test.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[verstappen-cult]

GETTING CAUGHT MAKING OUT WITH THE BOYS | F1 GRID

INTRODUCING THE BOYS. lando norris. charles leclerc. oscar piastri. max verstappen. alex albon. daniel ricciardo. mick schumacher. logan sargeant. BONUS. . . lance stroll.

★ — LANDO NORRIS (4)

it stared with a couple of innocent kisses in lando’s driver room before the race. you don’t usually engage in that kind of behavior at least until after a race, but lando was feeling a little under the weather and while you were only trying to comfort him, he had other plans. and, well, if that makes him feel better you won’t deny him a little bit of fun. now, you’re straddling your boyfriend’s thighs, it’s hot and you want to rip your top and his fireproofs off, and lando, as always, is one step ahead of you. his hands slip under your shirt, the pad of his fingers softly caressing your skin as his lips find the pulse point on your neck. you don’t know if the whimper you hear belongs to you or lando, the only thing you know is that the race can wait a few minutes.

“lando it’s time to g–” you don’t hear the end of the sentence because lando’s race engineer it’s too stunned to finish speaking. you’re quick to jump off of your boyfriend’s lap, but you’ve been caught and it’s impossible to deny what you were doing, there’s evidence on yours and lando’s face. the man just laughs and closes the door, saying something about keeping his head clear of any distraction.

★ — CHARLES LECLERC (16)

you were just trying to help charles clean his shirt after you spilled your drink on top of him. but he was so close to you, his breath tickling your cheek and sending a shiver down your spine, and it just happened. the kiss was shy at first, both of you uncertain of what you were doing. but then you were being lifted up by charles and sat down on the sink, legs immediately parting to make room for him. you didn’t care that you were in dani’s guest bathroom and anyone could walk in on you, you also didn’t care when charles’ hands found your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh while his mouth kept the assault in yours, neither did you care when those same hands lifted your dress up, up and up until you could clearly feel the effect your kisses were making on him.

you were ready to ask charles to do something when the door opened startling you both. charles stepped away and you jumped off the sink, trying to brush your hair and looked presentable to the owner of the house who was now looking at you, surprise written all over his face before bursting out laughing. “guys! you won’t believe this!” it only took a panicked looked between you and charles for the boy to sprint down the hallway to try and shut his friend up.

★ — OSCAR PIASTRI (81)

you don’t know if australia has something in the air or if being in oscar’s childhood bedroom is making you feel a certain way. but the second the door closes, you’re leading him to the bed. oscar is a little uncertain at first and looks like he’s about to say something, but the words die in his throat the moment your lips find his. he doesn’t wait a minute in taking control, and lays you down on the bed, his body on top of yours. then your impromptu kissing session it’s not enough, you need to feel him closer, you want his hands everywhere.

“would you like some lemonade?” it’s too late for you to pretend to be doing something else than being in an intense making out session when oscar’s mom, the woman you’ve just met that same day, opens the door. when she sees the scene, she quickly closes her eyes, hiding behind her hands. it would make you laugh if it were any other situation. oscar doesn’t move but looks like a deer caught in the headlights. “i did not see a thing!” you would pretty much prefer for the earth to swallow you whole than to face the woman again.

★ — MAX VERSTAPPEN (33/1)

it’s not max’s fault that you look so, so good in that damn dress that all he wants is to rip it off of you. if the FIA gala wasn’t so important—it’s not. not for him, at least—he would get out of there immediately. instead, he has to settle with crowding you against a wall in a secluded corner of the building when he finally has some time for you. he can barely keep his hands to himself, and is touching you even before you can feel his lips against yours. max whispers sweet nothings as his lips go from your mouth to your neck and then up again, making you feel dizzy. he lifts your dress up around your thighs, and you allow him access in a heartbeat, not caring about anything but how addicting his kisses are.

“ejem,” a cough makes max pull away, and doesn’t hesitate on shielding your body with his, giving you enough time to fix up your clothes. “we’re next.” christian horner tries to look at anywhere but you, and you don’t know if you’re supposed to laugh or feel ashamed. both, probably. max dismisses him with a simple nod of his head, and once you’re alone, max goes back to what he was doing before. you still have a few minutes to spare, he says.

★ — ALEX ALBON (23)

you were having the time of your life choosing an outfit for a party next week, your boyfriend waiting for you just outside the changing room; you actually were focused on trying to zip up a beautiful black dress you had chosen when the door opened, revealing alex with a mischievous smile on his face. as quick as he opened it, he closed it behind him. you didn’t question him, it’s definitely not the first time he’s done something like this, so, you, more than happy, welcomed him with open arms and a set of pink and plump lips. and alex is immediately swiping his tongue across your bottom lip and kissing your properly—kissing you so slow while gently cupping your face, trying to take as much as he wants from you, and you’re ready to give it to him freely.

“is someone there?” a girl’s voice startles you both, but before you can think of hiding alex or saying something—not that you can with your boyfriend’s mouth against yours—she’s opening the door. neither you nor alex know what to do other than to stay very still and very quiet, as if that would make the girl forget what she saw.

★ — DANIEL RICCIARDO (3)

you told daniel that hiding in the airplane bathroom to make out wasn’t a good idea, but you still got up and went voluntarily when he gave you the signal. waiting for him to knock was torture, you were pretty sure you were going to get caught. but when you opened the door and your boyfriend pulled you in to finally kiss you, you forgot about everything. the way daniel kisses should be illegal—how he lets you take the lead until your kisses become sloppy and your head feels dizzy and you can’t keep up with it because it feels so good. then he takes control, gripping your waist with such force it’ll leave marks; the mere thought makes you weak in the knees.

“open up! you can’t do that in here.” a huge knock on the door makes you pull away, but daniel doesn’t let you go, chasing after you until you give up and kiss him again. this time the kisses are more intense and the tiny bathroom it’s too warm and you’re wearing too many clothes. the person behind the door is forgotten the moment daniel gets so close that you become one. you’re already in trouble, so, it’s doesn’t matter if you stay a few more minutes in there.

★ — MICK SCHUMACHER (47)

kissing at clubs is not something you would’ve done in the past, not even when lights are so low and no one cares what the person next to you is doing. but ever since you started dating mick, there are a lot of things you’ve already done that you never thought you would do. and making out in a corner of the club with mick pressing against the window, his body molding into yours just in the right spots is definitely one of them. mick is practically knocking the air out of your lungs with the way he’s kissing you, and you have to hold onto his shoulders afraid of melting to the ground. you don’t know where you are, and you really don’t care as long as mick keeps kissing you like that, so you don’t push him away when you feel his hand making its way up your thigh, getting closer to where you need him the most.

but then you hear people laughing. mick pulls away first, groaning for being interrupted, but then you look around and you’re right next to the bathroom from where a group of girls are walking out. you feel all the blood in your body rushing to your face, they look amused but you want to disappear. you hide your face in your boyfriend’s chest and don’t look up until mick is the one lifting your chin up to kiss you. this time he takes your hand while saying something about going home to finish what you started.

★ — LOGAN SARGEANT (2)

it’s childish. and all of you are adults. you definitely should not be playing truth or dare in a party like thirteen years old. however, you don’t say anything when oscar dares you to spend seven minutes in the closet with logan. it’s true you both have been dancing around each other for a while now, what you didn’t know it’s that it was so obvious for everyone around you too. the cheering from your friends dies down when the door closes and you and logan are alone. you look into each other’s eyes for a minute, pure silence in the secluded space, then logan glances down at your lips and you suck in a sharp breath when you realize he’s asking for permission. your eyelashes flutter as you take a step closer, and he wraps his arms around your waist without a trace of hesitation. you’re gasping into his mouth the next second, his lips warm and soft. his fingers brush along your jaw and, in that moment, you decide this won’t be the last time you’re gonna be tasting his lips, you want to do it every hour of every day.

but then the door opens and you immediately pull away as if you’ve been burned. there are a lot of eyes looking between you and logan for a moment before someone shouts “fucking finally!” and everyone’s laughing and cheering. when you look at logan again, he has a lopsided grin plastered on his face.

★ — LANCE STROLL (18)

lance made sure you two were alone in his parent’s house before taking you in his arms and sitting on the couch. he smiles at you with the same bright and pretty smile that stole your heart one time two years ago as you run your hands through lance’s hair, down his neck and over his shoulders, letting them rest on his chest. lance grabs onto your waist and meets your lips halfway, all his body relaxing immediately. he kisses you so softly but determined, licking into your mouth when you give him access, like it’s his last day on earth and he needs you to keep breathing, surviving. you let his hands roam freely over your body and you can feel your heart pounding so hard, almost as if it’s gonna jump out of your chest and you can’t do anything about it. when your boyfriend’s hands graze your lower back for a second before grabbing your arse, a tiny mewl escapes you.

and as you’re about to grind down, “oh my god!” lance’s sister screams in surprise. you both look at her, more embarrassed than afraid. you know your cheeks and ears are as pink as the shirt you’re wearing, and you feel like your skin is actually burning. ”well, i guess we had the same thought.” she says stepping aside, her boyfriend coming into view with a shy smile on his face.

requested by @biancathecool. . . The boys (individually) Nd fem!reader getting caught making out, with the driver having thier hands shoved down their gfs pants or up their shirt 🫠❤️ Alsin if you could please add lance in this one.

© VERSTAPPEN-CULT ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[yanderenightmare]

part one

TW: nsfw, dubcon, blackmail

fem reader

As promised, you receive the pictures in the mail while the payment is forwarded almost emmidiatly. You don’t know which makes you gawk more, the photos of you or the numbers.

You also get an email—an invitation. The photographer is asking you to dinner. Or, asking is putting it nicely—which he most certainly didn’t. It’s phrased like a notice from your boss—matter-of-factly, he’s picking you up at eight, wear something nice.

You think about declining, but then you think about your friend again and how you don’t want to cause her any trouble. A free dinner isn’t really all that bad, is it?

It’s worse, actually.

“You should have told me you didn’t have anything to wear. I would have lent you something,” is the first thing he says when you get in his car. He hadn’t opened the door for you or anything, just sat in the driver’s seat waiting.

And though your cheeks burn with embarrassment, you think you’re foolish for it. You hadn't really dressed to impress him, after all—something you might as well tell him, “Maybe I just didn’t feel like dressing up. You didn’t exactly leave a good impression last time we met, so I don’t believe I owe you anything.”

He scoffs with a grin—face turned towards the road as he starts driving. “You have a lot more bite without your friend.”

“She has too much respect for you.” You cross your arms and look out the window. 

“That’s for sure.” You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t offer any more of a response. You’re glad to spend the rest of the drive in silence.

You feel underdressed at the restaurant. You hadn’t thought he’d take you somewhere so nice. Most of the other couples there are dressed as if for a gala, while you’re dressed as if you’re going to an office party.

He hasn’t tried too hard himself. But still, he fits in—fat watch on his wrist, kempt hair, neat shoes, dress trousers, and a silk shirt with one too many buttons undone—a nauseating skinny chain beneath the collar as well as the hint of a chest tattoo. You bet it’s one of those dumb tribal inks, probably with some mundane Japanese characters he doesn’t know the meaning of.

“Is this where you undermine all the models desperate for your recognition?” you sigh as you sit down.

“We haven't even gotten our menus, and you’re already causing a scene?” 

He’s the one who was rude the moment you got in the car. In fact, he was rude the minute you met him. “Might as well speed this along.”

He chuckles—his smile genuinely amused instead of angered the way you’d imagined—the way you’d remembered from last time when he sent girls crying. “You know, for a face like that, you have one hell of a tongue.”

He orders wine by the name with ease and swiftness before returning to what he was saying.

“I like that. Most models are dull, but not you.”

“I don’t agree. And I’m a model,” you snip, showing no interest in his flirting.

 “No? Didn’t you see the pictures?” Your attitude doesn’t seem to deter him—rather, it only seems to egg him further on. “I have them all mounted on my walls at home—you should come see.”

This makes you falter. Looking at him from across the table with rounded eyes. “On your walls?”

“Framed.” He smiles, finally having broken through—he only intends to take it further. Not that what he was saying wasn’t true. “I just couldn’t help myself. I consider it my best work.” 

The look on your face is something between disgusted and uncertain—speechless in a sense.

It makes him laugh again. “Does anything flatter you?”

The wine comes. He’s poured a glass for testing.

“Not when spoken by men like you.”

His grin grows as he swirls the liquid around, smelling it like a phony.

“That’s a shame,” he says before taking a sip. He nods to the waiter, and you’re poured a similar glass. Meanwhile, he looks at you. “I’d like to flatter you—I’d like to spoil you even. You seem like you deserve it.”

You sip your glass. “No need.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You currently work at a diner, right?”

You gaze at him from atop your glass, brows furrowing. “How do you—”

“I didn’t.” It’s a lie, of course, he’d searched you up and gone over every little detail he could find. “It’s clear from the looks of you—”

“Fuck you,” you snap, putting your glass down a bit too harshly, enough to make a little wine slip and spill.

He doesn’t mind it. “Oh, I want you to,” he says instead. “After I pay for dinner and drive you back. We can fuck right under my favorite portrait of you.”

You’re stunted by his crude words, but only for a second. “How about we skip dinner, and you go fuck yourself.” 

His smile doesn’t drop, even as you get up to leave. “Settle down, sweetheart.”

“Make me, jackass.” 

You’re on your way to go, but his next words have you halting. 

“Either you humor me, or I make sure your friend never models in the country again.”

You turn around to look at him. You don’t really know why you’re so surprised. The card he just pulled is the very reason you agreed to the dinner in the first place. But an incentive is very different from outright blackmail, and suppose you just hadn’t really believed he’d take it that far.

“It’s my impression you don’t want that,” he continues.

You sit back down. He tops your glass off.

“I could make her big, you know?” he offers while pouring for himself as well. “Really speed her career along—set her up for life. I’ll do the same for you, too, of course.” 

He swirls his wine, lifting it as if to make a toast.

“And all you gotta do is come back home with me.”

You don’t have the words.

“You won’t be disappointed,” he promises. “I’m good at it.” As if that’s your concern. “You’ll never want to fuck anyone else again.”

You hate how right he is. 

You’ve never cum sooner or harder before in your life, not with anyone else or on your own. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced—so good, you’re screaming—moaning out in echoes throughout his giant penthouse, bouncing off the marble floors into all unlocked rooms, creating a cacophony of your undeniable pleasure.

He’s on his knees beneath you as you lean with your back against the window overlooking the city, barely able to stand as he buries his face between your soft thighs, canting his chin up while lapping hard at your slit and clit. His hard stare set on your face and the way you throw your head back while cumming in his mouth—your hand tussled in his hair, yanking on it hard enough to make him growl.

Your legs and feet give you little support. It's his hands that keep you up as you slide further and further down the floor-to-ceiling window until you’re almost about ready to drop your weight completely.

But he’s made you come undone three times by then, and just can’t wait any longer. 

He’s spun you around before you know it, making you face the pretty lights of the city skyline—his mouth hot on the shell of your ear, “I told you so, didn’t I?”

Your breath fogs the glass with your panting—knees wobbly, only standing thanks to the thick arms he’s got supporting you, each with a tit in their hand, giving them rough squeezes as he starts pounding away at your womb—hard enough to make the city lights blend in with the stars. 

“You won’t wanna fuck anyone else again.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Aizawa, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kageyama, Iwaizumi, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin ♡ AOT – Levi ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[toastsnaffler]

meeting up w my token cishet guyfriend from college tmr + i forgot that with couples u cant just go hang out w one of them bc they always invite their partner + assume u already know abt it so i guess im hanging out w his gf too 🙄

[lovegasmic]

i LOVEEEE ur writing !!! can I request a bff gojo x fem reader where gojo starts to get close to another girl n the reader is kinda sad/worried ??? idk i was just thinking about the song dark red by steve lacy and the lyrics “only you my girl,only you babe” IT CAN BE SMUT OR SFW AAA

⋆ slightly angsty but also fluff because of course, we don't believe in sad endings in this house ‹3. jealous reader + oblivious satoru.

 ⋆ I was hearing that song while writing this and hello?!? it's so good like !!! so bff satoru coded waaaah, also thank you for the compliment, sending you many hugs 🩷

I will work on the bff satoru masterlist soon ^^

there have been moments in Satoru’s life when he felt uneasy, although none of those moments were strong enough to stick for more than a couple of hours, much less for a whole week. but you are a mystery.

he’s not certain why you’ve been refusing his hang out invitations, Satoru senses your coldness even through texts, the usual back and forth teasing no longer there, and replaced by a disgusting ‘k.’

Satoru’s phone bounces on the bed for the fifth time in the night, followed by his palms rubbing on his face and the slight tug on his soft, white hair in sheer frustration, you’re messing with his head, making his chest tug, and palms itch. the phone call goes straight to your voice mail, —most likely filled with his pleading voice. the option of visiting you is always present, but the blue eyed is certain your short, black haired roommate is already sick of him, eyes rolling behind the crystal of her glasses as she speaks in that annoyed tone, “i told you she’s not here”.

it’s all lies, Satoru knows it, he is your best friend and has already memorized your schedule by heart, “can you tell her I seriously need to speak to her?” Satoru responds, eyes filled with worry as he leans on your apartment doorframe, attempting to take a peek into the place, but quickly getting his hopes broken by the door smashing right in front of his face. for the nth time.

walking down the memory line didn’t work either, his focus was on the last time you hung out, on how your mood suddenly shifted after Satoru casually met with one of his new colleagues, who happened to be going in the same direction to you both, and her hand was awkwardly eager to be holding onto the white haired’s bicep. but then again, you were not a jealous person, and Satoru made sure to remind you how he’ll never replace your spot as his best friend.

“are you sure you’re alright, sweetheart?” he had asked that night, watching you mindlessly play with the hem of the blanket draped over your laps as you watched a movie, concern etched on his words.

“mhm, just tired” you mumble back, yet your eyes didn’t sparkle like they should, nor did they miss the way his phone rang with a text from the girl you saw earlier.

we should hang out soon ;)

and Satoru was quick to send a ‘sure!’ completely and utterly oblivious of the girl’s flirting.

“want me to leave? so you can take a nap” he says, brows furrowed and eyes locked on your face from above the rim of his dark glasses, he did not want to leave, but your health was more important; although in your ears his suggestion sounded more like a ‘i’ll leave so I can hang out with that girl’ and that bothered you quite a lot.

“yeah,” you’re quick to reply, standing up abruptly and dragging the blanket with you, “see you another time” and that was another lie, since you did not meet with Satoru in the next 3 days.

“fuck” he mutters, staring at the ceiling, strands of messy hair splayed on the pillow, “you’re not that busy... are you?” Satoru asks himself, about to slam his head against the wall.

it’s Sunday and he’s most likely looking like a stalker right now, pacing back and forth in front of your apartment complex, waiting for anything, until the sign comes, your roommate is quick to leave the building, a gym bag and a strange stick-like tool under her arm, and he knows you’re at home, of course he knows.

Satoru is up in three steps, and two knocks on your door. “Maki, did you forget your keys again?” your voice echoes in the room and his heart skips a beat.

“dunno where are yours but you can ta— Satoru...?” you ask, eyes widened slightly at the imposing form of your best friend towering above you.

“mm, i’m glad you still remember my name” he murmurs, attempting to tease but the sight of your tired face burns in his chest, flicking a single hair strand away from your forehead, “can I come in?”

you swallow, “what are you doing here?”

“pfft, can’t I visit my stunning best friend who has been ignoring my calls?”

“i haven’t...” you murmur, drifting your gaze and stepping back to allow him to get in, it was obvious Satoru were not going to leave any time soon, “i’ve been busy”

he snorts, splaying on the couch in your living room with long legs resting on the coffee table, “you’ve been worse and yet at least answer my texts” he taps the seat next to him, expecting for your thighs to brush like you always sit, but instead, your distance hurts.

“tell me what’s wrong”

“nothing’s wrong!” you say, slightly defensive, “i told you i’m busy”

“you were just fine a week ago, but got mad out of nowhere” Satoru speaks softly, squeezing your knee, not realizing the slight tremor running down your spine, “doll, if you’re jealous of—”

you clasp your hand on his mouth, “don’t finish that sentence” and Satoru’s eyes fill with realization, nodding like an obedient child.

“come on, I told you you’re my only best friend, darling” he whispers, sliding his hand from your knee and up your thigh, across your side until it settles on your nape.

“i don’t think what I feel is simple friendly jealousy.” the grip on the back of your neck tightens as soon as the words leave your mouth, breath hitching and eyes widening slight.

there’s a slight twitch in the corner of his lip at your confession, leaning in just briefly, “yeah?” he mutters, attempting —and failing miserably — at concealing a smirk, “are you in love with me?”

“don’t get too cocky” you mumble back, frowning but unable to tear your gaze away from his lips and eyes.

“you just admitted it” he grins brightly, a slight blush adorning his cheeks, brushing his nose across your jaw, “so that was the problem, hm? you’re so cute when you’re jealous”

“Satoru, i swear...” you start, mixed feelings of embarrassment and longing settling in your chest.

he sighs deeply, breath fanning over your skin where Satoru slides his lips across, inhaling your scent deeply, fuck... how much he missed you, “don’t ignore me again...“ he starts, ghost touches now turning into brief kisses on your jawline, trailing up until his lips press on the corner of your mouth and his thumb slides under your bottom lip, long fingers caging the side of your face, “...i like you too...” he breathes, meeting your gaze and flicking to your lips, “i just want you, only you, my girl”

reblog and/or comment if you want me to write the smut for this 🤭🎤