#last time there was a red tv hint

[cruell-summers]

if I had a nickel for every time Taylor Swift has teased a 1989 tv song in the trailer for an animated kids movie, I'd have 2 nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird it's happening twice, right?

[frogstappen]

𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐯𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐧𝐥

best friend!max verstappen x reader / 3k

you watch max's home race from the red bull garage.

⚠️: description of major crash, some mentions of injury. sickly sweet friendship with a hint of something more. jealous!max, soft!max, cheeky!max.

“Headset?”

“Yep.”

“I got some snacks for you. Where are the –?”

The bag rustles as you lift it. “Pretzels. Got them.”

“And you know where the bathroom is? Out that door, down the corridor –”

“Max,” you push his arm down, “You know who we sound like right now?”

His eyebrows lift. “Who?”

You giggle. “You and GP. Radio, check. Headset, check. Bathroom, check.”

Max sighs, propping a hand on his hip. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just – listen to me, please, okay?”

“I’m going to be fine,” you assure him. “I’ve watched you from the garage a thousand times before.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t been down here in a while. I’m just making sure.”

The track is already deafening. The roar of tens of thousands of bloodthirsty Formula One fans isn’t quite as earthshaking as that of twenty racecars – but Jesus, there’s not much in it.

The attendance in Zandvoort this weekend has reached well over three hundred thousand. Earlier, you stood out front to watch the drivers’ parade with some of the team.

Max lifted his head as the bus turned the last corner and trundled down the main straight. The crowd thundered all around. He caught your eye and, with a smirk, lifted a waggling hand – and you felt your bones vibrating with the cheering.

An orange sea parted by a strip of black asphalt; they twirl flags between thick clouds of tangerine smoke. They paint their faces and wave their banners, topple their drinks with the thrill that just a half-second glimpse at their Dutch Lion ignites.

Formula One fans go hard. Max Verstappen fans go harder.

An assistant taps Max’s shoulder. She flicks up the mic on her headset as he turns. “Three minutes to anthem.”

He nods, and she totters off.

“Promise me,” he takes hold of your elbows, “that you’ll stay right here. I’ll find you after, okay? One of the guys will bring you to the podium.”

“Confident,” you snort, though his expression tightens.

Your phone buzzes on the desk. You flip it over and the screen lights a name adorned with a heart emoji. Beneath, a picture of the classic overhead of the grid, stretched across a flatscreen TV.

Bet your view is better than mine! Miss you. X

Max grumbles, grabbing his balaclava. “I should go.”

“Hey, wait.” You tug on the sleeve of his suit, dangling from his waist.

He sways back into your side, the weight of him familiar and gentle. “Mhm?”

“Have a good one, okay? Be safe.”

“Safe?” He smirks, toying with the cord of your headset. “That’s no fun.”

“I’m serious, Max. Don’t be a dick.”

Okay, he mouths, patting your head. “Speaking of dicks,” he taps your phone, “Better reply.”

His head tilts back in laughter when you shove him off, and he swaggers out of the garage. An assistant hoists a parasol in the air and scurries down the pit lane at his side.

He’s so calm, you think, that he may as well be out for a Sunday drive. It comes naturally enough to him.

He’s on pole today. The car has been good, Max’s form even better. The sky is clear (save for the fans’ fluorescent flares), and there’s no chance of rain – though, sometimes, you find yourself praying for it.

He’s Dutch, okay? The rain is always on his side.

It’s been a decent weekend, for once. No hiccups, no setbacks. He’s soared his way around the track, producing lap after perfect lap. The way he always does, when he knows you’re somewhere nearby.

His lucky charm, since his first go around a karting track. So Max says, anyway.

He’ll say it with humor; that wit of his that you’ve learned like a second language. Still – sometimes, after his hardest races, his toughest battles, he wraps his arms around you tight enough to convince you that he might just be telling the truth.

Just for a moment.

You’ve been best friends for as long as you can remember. Never one without the other; always whispering into each other’s ears or otherwise communicating through flashes of eye contact, kicks under the table.

Wherever he goes, you go. You bicker like a married couple, and trust each other much the same. From the school playground to the Circuit de Monaco – and everywhere in between.

The orchestra swings to life, sending the sound of Wilhelmus skyward. Onscreen in the garage, the camera focuses in on Max: calm, composed, staring off down to the first corner like it’s his next meal.

Nothing has ever happened between you. Not really. No secret rendezvous nor dear diary crushes. Once, and only once, a chaste kiss during a high school game of spin the bottle.

It was about as awkward as it should’ve been. This quick, electric shock of a kiss. Over all too soon and not soon enough. He tasted like the lager he’d been drinking. He steadied himself with a hand on your thigh.

You sat back on your heels, wiped your lips with the sleeve of your sweater, and aped Max’s look of disgust. You snickered with your girlfriends as the circle moved on – but anytime you snuck a glance at him, he was already looking straight back.

He never brought it up again, though – and so neither did you. As far as either of you were concerned, it never happened. You’re just friends.

Best, best friends.

This new guy you’ve been seeing – you met him in a bar in London. He said he liked your dress, said he liked your smile, then offered to buy you a drink. It’s been no more than six weeks, but Max had already quietly decided his thoughts over summer break.

He’s a nice guy, he said, deliberately bumping his rubber ring into yours.

You pushed away from him, floating across the pool. Nice? That’s all you got?

What do you want me to say? I’m not the one dating him.

I just don’t believe that nice is all you have to say. You’re not that good at pretending. I know you too well, Verstappen.

Okay, fine. Too much styling of the hair.

Too much…What?

Yeah. And he wears weird shoes.

Well, he likes F1. Said he’s a fan of yours.

Ha, Max clicked his fingers, That’s the biggest red flag of them all.

Your phone buzzes again. You turn it facedown without looking, and pull your headset on.

The circuit shudders as the anthem comes to an end. The drivers split up, pulling off ice vests and zipping up their suits. The mechanics prop chairs in front of the screen, thumping their helmets over their heads.

Almost ten years in, the anxiety still hangs heavy in your stomach. The rumble of the engines, the babble from the loudspeakers. The rapid-fire orders shot over your head in the garage.

It comes naturally to Max, sure – that doesn’t mean it’s easy for you.

You watch him as he lowers into his car. Eyes narrow and focused, blurring everything but that first bend from his vision. All good humor shaken off, replaced by a vicious hunger to hit the end of the straight first, to be a speck on the horizon before the first lap is through.

Your thumb picks at the 33 sticker on the side of your headset. You burst open the bag of pretzels.

Max checks the radio and GP replies: “Loud and clear.”

“Beautiful day,” the driver says, weaving through the formation lap. “Simply lovely.”

You smile, suckling on the salty snack. As nervous as you may feel, at least he’s having fun.

He brings the car to a soft stop on his line and waits as the others follow suit. The lights flick on one by one, a painful pause between each. One sharp breath, held at the bottom of your throat, – and the red dissolves.

The Red Bull fires down the track.

Your lungs fill with a gulp of fuel-fumed air. Veins flood with warmth – the ice-cold grip around each nerve thawed as soon as Max begins to lead the flock.

He fights off contenders for first all the way to turn four – snuffing the flame of a Ferrari here, squeezing the papaya of a McLaren there. He catapults ahead just past Hunserug, and the garage springs to cheerful life.

In your headset, the pit wall is serious, fixed on the race. They murmur over wavelengths, static fizzling between words. Voices flat and emotionless; statistics on top of statistics, strategies on top of strategies.

You crush more pretzels between your molars, watching, unblinking. You twist the cord around your index finger, draining the tip of blood, then loosen again as Max puts more than a second between his car and the next.

He’s doing good. He always does good, as far as you’re concerned.

He’s doing what he always says he was made to do. He was raised this way, weathered into shape by each storm he powered his way through. Not born, not destined – Max doesn’t believe in any of that shit.

God doesn’t drive F1 cars, he’ll say. I do.

A couple tense laps pass. The Red Bull is still up front, though he’s tussling with the Ferrari now hot on his tail. Each chance his pursuer takes, each split-second jab at his lead, Max has already squashed before it materializes.

He rips around turn fourteen, following the track through its widest bend down to fifteen, and hits the main straight to thunderous applause. The cars scream past the pits, a roar sliced in two as they barrel straight for Tarzan.

The gap is barely two tenths. The mechanics clutch their helmets. Max taunts the corner on the outside of the track, eyeing his target.

“Defend,” one of the mechanics growls. “Hold him, Max.”

The Ferrari tucks behind, its front wing edging closer and closer.

You blink.

The red car swings out, shuddering with the force of the maneuver. He steadies himself and floors it, each closing centimeter perilous.

Blink again.

They’re side by side. Almost wheel to wheel. There’s no way Max can’t see that scarlet smirk from the corner of his eye. The apex is right there, though, it’s right fucking there.

Another blink, and –

He’s gone.

He’s gone. He’s –

Hurtling off the track. At almost two hundred miles per hour. The gravel spits at him as he spins; smoke and dust billow from beneath. He slams straight into the barrier, and, finally, the moment ends.

Your chest shrinks; a weak wheeze passes your lips. “Oh, my God.”

The mechanics leap to their feet. They bark amongst themselves like a pack of angry dogs, though you can’t make out a word.

Your hearing is shot. Every sound bleeds into the next; one long, high-pitched scream. You move without thinking, without feeling; slip off the stool and tug your headset. It hits the desk with a distant clatter, though you’re already wandering away.

The sound of the crowd rattles against your skull. Numb, muted. An awful groaning sound as the cloud lifts, revealing the chewed-up car.

It’s bad. It’s the worst one in a long time. He must’ve hit that barrier at near-enough full speed. The dread fills your lungs like torrents of heavy, black water. Sickly salt, suffocating sea. Oh, God.

You scan the garage for any of his mechanics. Matt. Ole. Chris. Fucking – any of them. Who did he say would bring you to him when this was over? He said he’d meet you at the podium. He said he’d find you –

A rough hand grabs your elbow.

Max’s face flickers across your vision. Blue steel gaze, freckle above his lip. The dust pulls him away from your grasp. He hits the barrier again and again and again.

“Max –”

The voice is calm – too fucking calm, you think, when it tells you, “He’s talking. They’ve got him talking.”

“Talking,” you echo, begging it to solidify in your brain. “Can you put me on to him?”

The engineer pulls you over to the exit. He plucks at his mic, murmurs some response down the line to the team. He takes your wrist and leads you out, muttering, “C’mon.”

“Hey,” you tug on his arm, “Please let me speak to him.”

“You will,” he replies, snaking through the tight corridor. “Once he’s out, they’ll check him over. He’ll be taken in for evaluation, hitting the wall at that speed. Force must be bloody nuts.”

The thought sends another bitter stream of panic through your blood. “Can he move? Is he –? Can he get out of the car?”

He gives one quick nod. “Medics are there. They’re helping him out.”

Sunlight floods overhead, dazzling as you follow him out front and towards a sleek car. An attendant opens the door for you, and you slide into the backseat.

The engineer gives your shoulder a friendly shake. “He’ll be fine,” he says. “He’s done worse.”

The door falls closed and the car moves off, purring through the paddock towards the medical center.

You slump into your seat and press your fingers into your eyes; a headache already blooming between your temples.

He’s moving. He’s moving and he’s responding. They’re helping him up out of the car. He’s probably already being checked over.

He’s probably already asking for you.

“Jesus Christ,” you groan, fingers dragging down your cheeks.

The center is a polite little hut inside the circuit. By the time you pull up, the race has already resumed. The remaining cars whizz by as you jog over, slipping inside behind a couple guys from Max’s team.

He’s had his fair share of scraps on the track. You don’t make it to the top without a sincere sense of dare, and an even sincerer lack of fear. Some call it idiocy. You’re often one of them.

Sitting on the other side of the clinic door, though – knee jerking, nails picking at the skin on your fingers – you’d be thrilled to never see these four walls ever again. Idiot or not, you care about him.

More than anyone else in your life? Jesus. Probably.

The door clicks open, and your blood jumps.

A pale woman in a pale coat steps out. She peers over her glasses, eyes you from the sneakers on your feet to the worry on your face – and says your name.

You push yourself up, squeezing past her into the room.

Max is perched on the edge of the bed, still in his fireproofs. Hair disheveled, face flushed and exhausted. Translucent with shock or concussion or worse, he lifts his head and flashes a lopsided smile.

It’s weak, barely there – but it’s him.

You care about him more than anyone else in your life. Definitely.

He opens his arms, fingers beckoning you in. “C’mere.”

“Oh, my God,” you sweep over, already in tears by the time you meet his body, “Oh, my God – you fucking idiot.”

His shoulders shudder with a bottled laugh. He wraps his arms around your waist, turning his head against your chest. “How was I supposed to know he was going to turn into me, huh? I had the line, I was –”

“Max,” you pull back, staring into his bleary eyes, “I don’t care. Just – don’t do that ever again.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he whispers, corners of his mouth twitching.

You sigh, collapsing onto the bed at his side. You lean against him and he winces a little, before pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

“You really scared me,” you admit, turning in to his chest.

Max slings an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight. “I’m fine, no? I mean, everything’s blurry and I can’t really hear much, but – it could have been worse.”

He props the pillows against the wall and pushes himself back gingerly, reaching past you for a paper cup of water at his bedside.

You move slowly, carefully, waiting for him to get comfortable before settling back, too – leaving a safe gap between his battered body and yours. Your cheek rests on the curve of his shoulder; fingers trace the logos on his sleeves.

Max breathes in the scent of your hair. He turns his hand and watches as your fingers trail down his wrist, circling his palm. He sucks in a deep breath, sighing to the ceiling.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” you whisper, and he hums.

“Nerves,” he mutters.

“From the race?” You lift your head. “You don’t get nervous.”

He takes another breath and turns to you. He’s blushing, and doing a shitty job at hiding it. “No,” he says. “Not from the race.”

You gulp. “Are you sore?”

“Yeah. My back, my ribs.”

“Do you want me to get up?”

“No. Stay.”

He wears the same expression he did all those years ago, sat too many people apart from one another in that drunken circle. The same expression you only allowed yourself fleeting glances at: bashful, a little awkward – all the more endearing for it.

Maybe he actually doesn’t remember that night. Maybe he was just too tipsy – alcohol gone straight to his teenage head. And maybe he won’t even remember this, what with the concussion and all.

It’d make things a hell of a lot easier, that’s for sure. You could go back to your old ways: arguing over the best flavor of chips, screaming while playing video games. No second-guessing, no jumping to conclusions. Hell, maybe you hope he doesn’t remember any of it at all.

Somewhere, though, deep down – you know that’s not true.

“How’s, uh…whatshisface?” Max asks, nudging you with his elbow. He takes a feeble sip of his water and offers you the cup.

“Oh,” you shrug, “No idea. I left my phone in the garage.”

He scoffs, staring at your lips as you take a drink. He takes the cup from your hands once you’re done. “I don’t mean to give him shit, you know. If you like him, I like him.”

“Well, there’s liking someone,” you pout, “and then there’s willingly watching them crash full-speed in a racecar.”

Max smiles, lifting his cup.

“Whoever that is, sounds pretty cool to me.”

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

[flowersforbucky]

moth to a flame

bucky barnes x reader / winter soldier x reader

"I know you. even when I know nothing else, even when I don't know myself, I know you."

word count: 4.9k

summary: bucky is triggered into the winter soldier during a mission and then goes MIA, until he seeks you out in the middle of the night.

warnings/tags: SMUT, canon divergence (bucky hasn't been successfully deprogrammed in this), kind of dub-con, language, some violence, reader is afab, no use of y/n, friends with benefits situation, angst with a happy ending, 18+ only

“You've reached Bucky. I can't answer the phone right now but leave me a mess–”

You hang up before the voicemail recording finishes. You already knew he wasn't going to answer, just as he hasn't answered any of the other thirty-something times you've dialed his number over the course of the last few days. Or read any of the two dozen text messages.

The messages had stopped delivering and the calls had started going straight to voicemail almost two days ago at this point. And yet you still got your hopes up every time you checked your phone, only to be met with gut-wrenching, nauseating disappointment.

It had now been three days of this - not to mention picking your cuticles until they bleed, flipping back and forth between every news station on your TV in hopes (and fear) of seeing his name, a few collective hours of sleep each night, and too much Red Bull.

Just when you were thinking about trying to kick your caffeine addiction, too.

Three days of feeling completely and utterly helpless.

You place the phone back down on your coffee table, staring down at the thick, white cast encasing your left leg from your foot to just under your knee.

Useless.

You knew you were doing what you physically could - the spread of laptops and tablets on the table in front of you continuously supplying data from facial recognition programs across the United States.

Realistically, you knew he could be on the other side of the world by now, but that didn't stop you from checking. It was the only thing that you felt you had any control over right now.

But it wasn't enough. Not when Steve, Sam, Natasha, Sharon, and every other currently able-bodied team member are out scouring every safehouse and known former HYDRA base in the tri-state area while you're holed up in your apartment with a fractured fibula and a brain that won't let you stop reliving the moments before he went missing.

“This is as straightforward as it gets,” Steve re-assures you both for what felt like the dozenth time that day. “You'll be in and out in no time.”

“So straight-forward that you're going to hang back here while we do all the dirty work?” You joke as you make the final adjustments to your parachute.

“We've been monitoring this base for months,” he reminds you. “This place is as abandoned as they come. Get in, get the intel from the database, and get back to the jet.”

“And then blow the place to smithereens,” Bucky adds with a devious grin.

“And then blow the place to smithereens,” Steve agrees.

If only things had been as simple as he had expected.

You had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach from the moment that you and Bucky landed on the ground outside of the HYDRA base. You told yourself that you were being irrational - but you couldn't shake the looming feeling that something was going to go wrong.

“See?” Bucky says after removing the USB drive from the computer. He sticks the device in the breast pocket of his tactical vest before edging you towards the desk. “Easy-peasy. You've been worried for nothing.”

“I have not been worried,” you deny, leaning against the edge of the desk. “This place is just old, and smelly, and creepy.”

Bucky takes a step closer to you so that there's no space left between you. He places his hands on the desk on either side of you, enclosing you.

“You think that I can't tell when you're nervous?” He says quietly, studying your face. You can smell a lingering hint of cool mint from his mouthwash. “That I haven't spent enough time learning your body to read you like an open book?”

Your thighs clench together and your nipples pebble at his words. You're almost embarrassed at how easily his voice, his scent, his closeness elicits a physical response from your body. Almost.

“What I think,” you murmur against his mouth. His hands come to grip your hips as he nudges your thighs open, standing between your legs. “Is you're crazy if you're thinking about trying to fuck me in an abandoned HYDRA warehouse.”

He exhales a dramatic sigh. “You can't blame me for trying.”

“I am relieved to know that you'd even want to do that here,” you say, hopping down from where you're perched on the desk. “I really think that shows you've processed your trauma–”

You're cut off by the room going completely dark. Every light, every computer, turns to black.

Bucky's flesh hand instinctively reaches to grab your wrist in the dark, tugging you to him.

“What the fuck,” he groans under his breath.

“We need to get out of–” you start to state the obvious but close your mouth when the computer that you and Bucky had retrieved the data from turns back on.

And then a computer to the right - and then across the room - and another to the right - and one to left - until every computer is on and showing the exact same screen. Bucky's hand grips yours so tightly that it borders on being painful.

Displayed on dozens of screens throughout the room is the face of a man. A man who you've never met, but recognize immediately.

“Zola,” Bucky whispers almost inaudibly.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Zola addresses him with a perverted smile. “Welcome home,” his voice pours from every computer speaker throughout the room and echoes off the walls.

“Steve?” You whisper urgently, clicking on the communication device hidden in your ear. “Steve, we've got a prob–”

“There's no use in that,” Zola interrupts you. “It's too late. They're almost here.”

The following sixty seconds were a jumbled blur that you were still trying to piece together in your mind.

You remember hearing the stream of words spoken in Russian.

Longing. Rusted. Seventeen.

You remember Bucky screaming at you to run, the sound of Steve's voice in your ear telling you that back-up was on the way and asking a dozen questions that you were too overwhelmed to respond to.

Daybreak. Furnace. Nine.

You remember begging Steve to hurry. You remember pleading with Bucky to come with you to try to get away; pleading with him to just look at you, just stay with you, help is coming -

Benign. Homecoming. One.

You remember the moment that Bucky went completely still as the room was infiltrated by HYDRA agents.

Freight car.

You knew that Bucky wasn't there anymore. You could sense it in his stance, in the way he wouldn't meet your eyes, in his silence.

Before you could say anything else to him, close to a dozen HYDRA agents came barreling towards you both. He charged through them, taking down one after the next with ease, until there were just a few left standing.

It was a side of Bucky you'd never seen. You thought that you had witnessed his strength, his agility, his determination, his ruthlessness working beside him in this field - but you then saw just how much he had been holding back.

He fled past the remaining few, out the door and down the hallway of the warehouse. The agents turned to follow him, forgetting about you - until you threw a knife directly into one's neck from behind.

Another agent shot at you, the blow hitting your bulletproof vest and sending you flying backwards onto hard cement.

Before you could catch your breath, there was a sharp cracking noise and a blinding pain radiating from your lower leg - but it was short lived.

The last thing you recall is the man's boot swinging towards your face.

You woke up some number of hours later, in a hospital bed with your temple throbbing and leg elevated in a cast.

“Hey,” a soft voice calls from your right. Natasha stands up from the singular chair in the room, both concern and relief evident across her features. “You're okay,” she begins to assure you. “You have a concussion and a fractured–”

“Where's Bucky?” You interrupt her, your voice scratchy. You clear your throat. “Is he okay? Did Steve find him? Did HYDRA get–”

“HYDRA didn't get him. Steve took care of the last of the agents after him,” she stops you from rambling. There's an immediate sense of relief wash over you.

“But we haven't found him yet,” she adds carefully. “Everyone is out searching for him now. You know we won't stop until–”

A gentle knock on your apartment door snaps you back to reality.

You freeze, your heart jumping to your throat. You stand as quickly as you can manage, grabbing your crutches propped up next to you on the couch.

“It's just me,” a feminine voice calls from the other side of the door. Your heart goes from your throat to your stomach. Not him.

“I'm sorry, I should have text you first,” Natasha continues. “But I brought you food. Street tacos from–”

You turn the deadbolt and unhook the chain lock before swinging the door open.

“You look–”

“Like hammered shit?” You finish for her, nodding your head towards the inside of the apartment as indication for her to come in.

“I was going to say exhausted,” she says, walking past you with a large paper sack of take-out food. Your stomach growls at the aroma - when was the last time you ate something more than a bowl of cereal or granola bar?

“Your favorite,” she tells you, placing the bag on the kitchen counter. “Extra salsa verde and lime wedges. Have you gotten any sleep recently?” Her eyes skim across the empty energy drink cans littered around the kitchen.

You maneuver yourself onto one of the barstools at the kitchen's small island, leaning your crutches on the edge of the counter.

“Yes,” you mumble. “For forty-five minutes from 2:30 to 3:15 today.”

She lets out a long groan, rolling her eyes at you.

“You're supposed to be healing from a concussion,” she reminds you, taking a seat for herself. “Which generally doesn't include sleep deprivation and excessive use of computer screens.” She stares in the direction of the array of laptops that overcrowd the limited space of your coffee table.

“Did you find anything in Connecticut? What about Sam, is he back from New Jersey?” You ask, ignoring her concerns as you unbox your food.

“Connecticut was a dead-end,” she sighs. “We're still waiting to hear back from Sam. There's a safehouse up in Vermont that Steve wants to head to tomorrow–”

“You don't think there's a chance of him letting me tag along for that, do you?” You tap the edge of your cast against the base of the island with your foot.

Her eyes soften as she looks at you. You already knew the answer.

“I know this is really hard for you,” she says delicately. “I may not know exactly what has been going on between you and Barnes these last few months, but it's obvious you care a lot for him. We all do. We are going to find him and bring him home,” she assures you.

You nod at her in agreement, not quite trusting your voice enough to speak.

Your eyes sting as you attempt to blink away the tears that threaten to spill over. You had yet to allow yourself to spend any time crying these last few days and you didn't wish to start now.

Her words remind you that no one knows exactly why you are taking Bucky's disappearance so harshly. You assume that your friends have their suspicions about your and Bucky's arrangement but the two of you had agreed to keep it between yourselves.

They didn't know it had started off being a weekly occurrence - late Sunday evenings, your apartment. Or how it had quickly escalated from once a week to twice, and then from two times a week to three - and instead of just your apartment, it would happen anywhere the two of you had a private (and sometimes public) moment - up against the wall of the communal showers at the compound's gym, in the back of the Quinjet after missions while everyone else would be sleeping on the flight back home, even during team meetings with his hand creeping between your thighs while you try to stay quiet enough to not draw any attention to yourselves.

They didn't know you were supposed to be friends with benefits but that at some point during the days and nights spent underneath one another, the line between friends and something more became blurry for you.

You had just been too chickenshit to tell him.

Natasha sits across from you as you inhale the Mexican food that she brought you. She doesn't say anything else, just keeps you company in a comfortable silence as you eat your first legitimate meal in days.

“Thank you,” you tell her as you're finishing your food. “I appreciate you. I've been going a little crazy here by myself,” you add meekly.

“Of course.” She stands back up. “I would stay longer, but I've got to prepare for Vermont. We're leaving early in the morning.”

“Be safe. All of you,” you remind her. “Let me know if you guys find anything. Just tell me if there's anything at all I can do. And please let me know when you hear from Sam–”

“You'll be the first to know when there's anything to know,” she assures you gently.

“Thanks, Nat.”

“You just try to get some rest, okay?” She requests as she walks toward the door. “Maybe drink some water, possibly consider taking a nice, long shower…”

“Goodbye, Natasha.”

She's chuckling as she closes the door behind her.

You lower your nose to your armpit as soon as the door clicks shut, inhaling.

Maybe she makes a valid point about showering.

Half an hour later, there's a heavy rain beating against the windows of your apartment when you finish bathing. You secure a towel around your chest before yanking off the garbage bag that you had wrapped around your cast well enough for you to rinse off.

Belly full and body clean, you felt somewhat better; at least physically.

You listen to the rain pound down as you sit on the edge of the bathtub, massaging lotion into your skin, and wonder where Bucky is right now - if he's safe, if it's raining wherever he's at, if he's somewhere dry -

You come to a sudden halt in the middle of brushing your teeth. It's hard to tell over the deafening roar of the rain and your bathroom fan, but you could have sworn you heard the creaking of a door or window from your living room.

I double checked the door locks after Nat left, you rationalize to yourself. This apartment is on the fourth floor, no one is going to climb the fire escapes to–

There's an unmistakable shadow visible through the crack at the bottom of the bathroom door. It's gone as quickly as it appears.

Shit. You start to panic as you realize you left your cell phone in the kitchen. As quietly as you can, you look around the small room for something to defend yourself with. A hair dryer, dental floss, a few week’s worth of dirty laundry..

You hear the creaking of floorboards as footsteps seem to creep closer and closer to the bathroom door.

Crutches. You have two crutches. You can clobber them with your crutches.

“I can hear you,” you call to whoever is just beyond the door. “I know you’re out there.”

Silence. No hint of any further movement.

You place one crutch under your left armpit for support, keeping the other one ready to wield as a weapon. “You have ten seconds to get out of my apartment,” you say a bit louder, willing your voice not to waver. “I have a weapon.”

Yeah, a weapon. If you can call it that.

Ten seconds come and go, followed by another ten seconds.

You weren’t going to let someone play this game with you in your own home.

Taking one last deep breath and tightening your grip on the defense crutch, you sling the bathroom door open quickly.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim, immediately relaxing your weight against the crutches, releasing the death grip that you had on your uninjured side.

It’s dark in your bedroom save for a few pale orange string lights hung around your bed frame and the light that spills in from the bathroom, but you would recognize his broad frame anywhere.

“Thank fuck you’re okay,” you exhale, swinging yourself over to where he stands at the foot of your bed. When you’re a little over a foot away from him, you realize he’s sopping wet - his hair dripping water droplets and his skin dewy. His clothing, the same clothing that you last saw him in three days ago, clings to his body like a second skin.

He remains still as a statue, and as silent as one.

“Are you okay?” You ask him apprehensively. You give him a once over, from head to toe. You don't see any noticeable injuries, but he is trembling.

“Bucky?” You ask in a small voice.

His lips are set in a hard line. He doesn't answer, just stares at you. Stares at you like he’s trying to figure out why he’s here.

Stares at you like he’s trying to decide if he knows you or not.

The immense relief that you had felt at knowing he's alive is washed away by a sinking feeling.

His eyes trail from your face and slowly down your towel-clad body. He pauses when he gets to your foot, glancing back and forth from your cast to the crutches on either side. His brows furrow together - almost like he's in pain.

“I'm okay,” you assure him in a shaky voice. “It's just a fracture,” you explain. “I'll be healed in no time.”

You notice that his features relax a bit at your words - just enough to give you hope that Bucky, your Bucky, is in there and he's listening to you.

Do whatever you have to do to keep him here. Don't let him out of your sight. Help him remember who he is, your inner monologue screams at you. Just don't let him run away again.

“Are you cold?” You ask him. You're not necessarily expecting him to answer, you're just trying to put him at ease. “How about we get you some dry clothes?” You add, nodding towards his drenched henley.

You retreat into the bathroom, grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that he'd left over the last time he had stayed the night - the night before he went missing. They were at the top of the laundry basket - maybe not the cleanest, but better that the wet, dirty clothing he's in currently.

You limp your way back over to where he stands at your bed, leaning against the mattress for support. You set your crutches down and hand him the shirt and pants, which he hesitantly accepts. He makes no move to remove the wet clothes from his body, instead gently places the dry clothes onto the mattress beside him.

“Would you like some help?” you offer cautiously, terrified of doing anything that could cause him to run. You slowly reach towards the clothing that he had just placed on the bed, but he stops you before you can pick the t-shirt back up - grasping your wrist in his vibranium hand.

You can’t stop the small gasp that escapes past your lips. His hold on you is firm, but not painful. You could rip your hand from him if you wanted to - but you don’t.

Instead, you let him hold your hand as he begins to rub his metal thumb in a circular motion next to yours. You’re frozen; watching him carefully as he examines the movements his metal digit makes on your skin.

The goosebumps that appear in the wake of his touch don’t go unnoticed by him. His eyes trail from where his hand holds yours and up the expanse of your arm, until they land on your exposed neck. The towel covering your midsection has started to come loose, hanging low enough to reveal the top of your breasts.

He drops your hand, taking a step closer to you. You have to remind yourself to breathe - your Bucky is in there. Your Bucky, who is gentle, and soft, and would never do anything to cause you harm.

You have to trust that.

He brings his vibranium fingers up to the edge of the towel, trailing them across the mounds of your breasts. Your nipples harden right away, visible through the thin material of the towel.

You would let this play out however he wants it to. However he needs it to.

When his index finger stops where the towel is tucked into itself at your side, you forget how to breathe. He pauses for a split-second before unhooking the cloth and letting it fall to your feet.

He drinks in the sight of you bare before him, his jaw clenched and pupils dilated.

Dozens of times he has seen you like this, and never have you felt so completely vulnerable under his gaze.

And still there's a slickness gathering at the apex of your thighs.

He brings his flesh hand to your waist, putting the faintest bit of pressure against your skin. You close your eyes at the sensation - he's barely fucking touching you and you could melt into him.

Your name falls off of his lips - it's barely even a whisper, nearly inaudible but unmistakable. Your name. He remembers your name.

“Bucky,” your voice cracks when you whisper his own name back to him. His eyes snap up to yours, a mix of realization and hesitation brewing in them.

You bring both of your hands to the tail of his wet shirt, giving him time to pull away before you start to tug the shirt upwards. He doesn't stop you - in fact, he raises his own arms to help you tug the soaked fabric off of him. You toss the shirt in the general direction of your bathroom.

You didn't think there would ever come a time that the sight of him getting naked for you wouldn't make you want to drool.

You unsnap the button of his tactical pants, keeping your eyes on his face the whole time, hyper-analyzing his expression for any sign of reluctance.

You dip your fingers past the waistband of his boxers, his eyes fluttering closed as your hand travels lower.

He's already fully hard as you hold him, stroking him as best you can from inside the confines of his underwear and pants. You pump him in your hand and his head rolls back so that he's looking up at your ceiling.

Fuck, it takes all the restraint you possess to resist leaning forward and sucking on his neck.

Another time, you tell yourself, anxious about overwhelming him.

He curses under his breath - something in Russian that you don't recognize but the expression on his face indicates it to be a praise. There's a shift in his initially reserved, unsure demeanor when you begin to pump him faster.

His head snaps back down, his eyes raking up and down your body once more before he brings his hands to your lower back, maneuvering you against the bed.

You scoot until your back comes in contact with the cool satin of your pillows, relaxing into the bedding. At last Bucky begins to shed the layers of wet clothing covering his lower half, not taking his eyes off of your body as he removes his boots, followed by his pants and boxers.

He kneels on the mattress, crawling above where you lay. You want nothing more than to grab him by the shoulders and pull his mouth to yours, but you are going to let him call the shots.

He nudges your thighs apart with his knee, nestling himself between your legs. He grasps your breast in his vibranium hand, giving it a firm squeeze before rolling your nipple between his icy fingers.

He lowers himself so that he's belly down on your mattress, his face inches away from your pussy. He removes his hand from your breast and you let out a small whimper of disappointment at the abrupt lack of sensation. He uses that same hand to hike your uninjured leg over his shoulder, securing his head between the soft interior of your thighs.

He kisses you, starting at your belly button and working his way to your center. His lips feel like fire against your skin. You keep your hips planted firmly on the bed, fighting the urge to thrust your pussy up to his face.

“Please,” you whine. “Bucky, please.” You swear you can see the faintest trace of a smirk that looks so undeniably Bucky.

You clench your thighs around his face and he lets out a low, guttural groan as his mouth makes contact with you.

Normally, Bucky closes his eyes while he's going down on you - gets completely lost in it. Right now, his eyes are wide open - making sure he doesn't miss the way your mouth gapes when he rolls his tongue around your clit and the way your chest heaves when he nudges his tongue inside you.

You don't know which you find hotter.

You can already feel the tightening of a coil in your lower belly, making it impossible to resist rolling your hips to meet the torturous pace he's set with his tongue. You grind against his face, the thin layer of stubble that's grown across his jaw since you last saw him scratching against the sensitive flesh around your cunt.

You're approaching your climax when he pulls away, making you mewl at the loss of contact. His face glistens with your slick.

He flips you onto your side, placing you on your left side so that your injured leg rests against the mattress. You prop your head up with your hand as he slides in behind you.

His chest presses against your back, the heat of his body warming you all over. His flesh hand juts between your thighs, raising your right leg high enough for him to slap his cock against your pussy.

He strokes himself in his hand while he teases your folds - lubricating himself with your juices.

You turn your head to look at him right as he sheaths himself inside you, filling you entirely in one swift motion.

Fuck, you have to taste yourself on him. You can't handle not having his mouth on yours for another second.

You tilt your head back enough to connect your mouth to his - every worry you once had about coming on too strong and overwhelming him melts away as he opens his mouth for you, moving his lips against yours in an effortless rhythm.

He starts slow, quickly working up to a rapid pace as he repeatedly slams into your cervix from the sweetest angle. The sounds that you're making for him are pornographic - moaning into his mouth as his flesh hand comes around your front, landing on your engorged clitoris. He rubs languid circles while he continues to pound into you from behind.

You pull your lips away from his when you feel your orgasm building. “You always make me feel so good, you know that?” You ask him breathily, your mouth now right next to his ear.

“Every time you fuck me, I'm more sure that no one could ever compare to you. You've ruined me for everyone else. There’s only you for me.”

“Fuck,” he curses and groans your name again - it's the closest he's sounded to his normal self, which only spurs you on.

“I’ve become so fucking addicted to you in such a short amount of time,” you say in between moans as the head of his cock hits your sweet spot just right. “Think about you anytime you're not near me, drives me fucking crazy.”

He flips you - doesn't pull out - so that you're now underneath him. He goes right back to the same brutal pace, bringing his flesh hand to cradle your face as he stares down at you.

Clarity - you recognize it plain as day on his features.

He gives you a few more fast, hard thrusts before you're milking his cock through your orgasm. You crash your lips to his and he's coming - filling you up with his warm seed as he kisses you senseless.

He gradually stills inside you, his body going limp on top of yours as he rests his face in the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms around him, peppering kisses across his scarred shoulder, where flesh meets metal.

“I'm so sorry if I scared you,” he murmurs against the sweat-slicked skin of your throat after a moment. “I wasn't myself. Not even entirely sure how I ended up here - it's like I was pulled in this direction - to you,” he sighs.

You're overcome with such an immense relief at hearing him speak that you could cry. You tighten your hold around him, rubbing your hands up and down his back.

“You could never scare me, Bucky,” you assure him. He pulls out of you, rolling off of you onto the bed beside you and tugging you to his chest. Your cheek rests just over his heart.

"I know you. Even when I know nothing else, even when I don't know myself, I know you."

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

thanks for reading! as always comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated!

[gingersxng]

Like What You See?

Pairing: f!reader x Mingi

Genre: smut 18+

Notes: roommates, reader is a tease, bigdick!mingi, mentions of porn, jerking off, Mingi has nasty thoughts about the reader, stripping, fingering, pussy play, breast play, voyeurism, cursing, Mingi cums in his pants, mentions of sex toys. May have forgotten something!

a/n: saw this Ateez log and immediately thought of this scenario when I saw Mingis facial expressions🙂‍↕️ am I sorry tho? ofc not!

Words: 866

Imagine..

During the last few weeks maybe months, you’d been repeatedly walking in on your roommate Mingi sitting against the headboard on his bed with his massive cock in his fist, the erotic and pornographic sounds from the laptop giving you straight hints of what he was watching.

What you didn’t know was that he didn’t jerk off by the screen in front of him, sure it was part of the point but the biggest reason he did it was because of you. He imagined that it was your small hand who milked him dry, as if it was your pretty mouth that was wrapped around his dick sucking up every last drop of his thick cum.

It was hard for you to sleep at night since your rooms were just a thin wall apart, Mingis low and deep moans tore through the wall and into your red ears. The vibrations from his voice went straight to your pussy and you crossed your legs in discomfort as you looked up at the ceiling. All you wanted was to be the one who made him sound so devilish..

Mingi sat down on the couch in your shared living room watching something boring. You’d been in your room the whole afternoon trying to find a way to act around Mingi after all this live porn. He didn’t think much about it that you’d seen him half naked, he’s a man after all.

The thing was, you had seen his dick maybe it was time for him to see your pussy. The wicked thought of Mingi watching your naked body gave your belly the tingles.

You took a deep breath before finally stepping out of your room, Mingis eyes were still glued to the tv screen and you slowly approach the armchair beside the couch.

“You’re finally out of your room, congratulations y/n” he said sarcastically, still watching the tv. “oh thank you Mingi..” you said seductively as you sneaked down in the soft chair. “What have you been up…” Mingi finally turned his head away from the tv and were met by a sight he never thought he would ever witness in his whole life even if he dreamed about it almost every night. “To..?” He gulped hard and his eyes got big as UFO’s.

You half laid down in the armchair with your legs spread wide, one leg over the armrest and your fingers deep inside your pussy. You were only wearing a white crop top with nothing underneath, your hard nipples almost poked holes through the thin material.

“Like what you see?” You softly asked watching him sit in front of you like a mannequin, not moving a muscle. Even though he couldn’t speak, his body spoke for him instead. A big tent formed quickly in his sweats and you swore you could almost see his cock twitch underneath.

Mingi gave you a nod and bit down on his lower lip trying his best not to nut inside his boxers too fast. You slowly rubbed your clit and bucked your hips up while letting out soft moans never breaking eye contact, you slid your index finger through your folds and gathered up some of your juices that made a slimy string as you took your finger out. “Fuck..” he whispered under his breath as all he wanted to do was to bend you over this couch and fuck your brains out.

While playing with yourself you could see how he fought more and more not to completely loose it, his leg bounced up and down fast and his one hand rested on his thigh, he gripped it so hard he almost let out a whine.

“You’re torturing me, why?” Mingi groaned, his eyes never leaving your wet pussy. “You’ve been torturing me all those nights jerking off to all those porn videos, so I thought I’d do the same thing to you” you said with a wink. Mingi let out a deep moan and swallowed thickly, “I never wanted to torture you..” he whispered.

“You wanna play with these?” You teased as you took off your top revealing your bare tits, you kneaded them together and bit your lip. Mingi uncomfortably pushed his hand down on his dick wanting release, wanting you to ride him..

“Oh fuck yes” he growled as he palmed himself through his sweats. “I’m sorry but you can’t, I’m actually beginning to feel a bit tired from all this playing” you slowly stretched your arms above your head and let out a fake yawn. “Think I have to finish this in the bedroom.. should I use the vibrator or the big dildo..?” You talked to yourself as you got up from the chair. Mingi let out a painful groan as he came in his boxers, you knew he did but continued to play your game.

You bent down to his eye level and put your finger under his chin to tilt his head up, his eyes were filled with nothing more than lust, his pupils were dilated to the max. “If you’re up for it we could watch porn together some night..” you whispered before letting go, leaving him horny and confused.

[ghostofskywalker]

Tabloid Buzz

Natasha Romanoff/Fem!Reader

Fictober Day 20 of 31

Words: 1,082

Summary: The rest of the Avengers like to tease Natasha about her (extremely obvious) crush on one of the biggest pop stars of the day. She just lets it happen, because they don't actually know the whole story.

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

The sound of a trashy gossip talk show was playing on the TV when Natasha stepped into the communal kitchen, and she just rolled her eyes as she registered the topic of discussion. Of course all her friends’ eyes were going to be on her now, no matter what she did to try and get them to give the topic a rest. 

“Pop sensation Y/N L/N has secured herself the number 1 spot this week once again for her newest album, and all eyes have been on the singer in recent weeks. Despite the outwardly dark album imagery, this album hints at a new presence in her life, as evidenced by songs like “All I Wanted” and “Head In The Clouds.” Fans have been ravenous to know more, and are hoping that the upcoming Grammy awards will be a chance for Y/N to show off the person who’s got her so smitten. Even the title track…”

 Natasha rolled her eyes as she pointedly ignored the television and began to pour herself a cup of coffee. However, Tony  was apparently not going to let this go. “It seems you’ve missed your chance with your celebrity crush Romanoff,” he said, a teasing smile on his face. 

“You do know what a celebrity crush is, right?” she asked, smiling as she watched Steve try not to laugh out of the corner of her eye. “It’s usually someone you never had a chance with in the first place.” 

“For normal people maybe,” Tony responded, taking a sip from the mug in front of him. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Natasha said. “Besides, half the people in this room also have a crush on her.”

The quiet bustle of a busy morning stopped for a moment, and the look on Natasha’s face almost challenged someone to speak up and disagree with her statement. She knew she was right about it though, because between her, Sam, Wanda, and Clint (even thought the latter wouldn’t admit it) there was a startlingly large amount of your merchandise in the compound. The four of them had sat in the living room last year with every set of eyes glued to the TV as you crossed the red carpet at one of the many award shows, in an outfit that had made Natasha drool a little (which thankfully, no one else had noticed). 

“Besides,” Natasha said, not really thinking before she spoke. “How do you know it wasn’t me who inspired this new album?” 

That statement got the desired effect, and the kitchen was suddenly full of laughter, pushing away the silence that had ruled it seconds before. “That’s good!” Tony said, almost spitting out the sip of coffee he had just taken. “Romanoff, sometimes I forget how funny you are.” 

The conversation shifted quickly after Tony’s comment, as different people in the room had to head off off to their meetings and missions for the day, and Natasha just smiled, content in knowing that there was so much that her teammates didn’t know. 

Her phone buzzed right as the last person left the kitchen, and she couldn’t help but smile at the text that lit up her screen, from a contact labeled with your name and the heart emoji in your favorite color. Good morning love, it read. Are we still on for date night later? 

Of course, Natasha texted back. I’ll pick you up at 8 <3

***

She had been doing well, hiding her budding relationship with you from the rest of her teammates, but her inevitable downfall came when she decided to sneak you into the compound one day when everyone else was away. In her defense, the various assignments, missions, meetings, and conventions that the rest of her team were on had a return date two days in the future, and these things never ended on time. She supposed it was just her luck that this time things would be different. 

The two of you had fallen asleep on the couch, with the various half-eaten snacks you had enjoyed left on the coffee table (it was fine, they were tomorrow’s problem). When Natasha opened her eyes, she could see the clock across the room read 2 AM, and your head was resting on her shoulder. The simple sweats you were wearing were completely different than the glittering ensembles you wore on stage and at events, but you looked just as beautiful now as you did when she first saw you. 

Her plan to fall back asleep was interrupted by the sound of the living room door opening, and Natasha’s eyes widened as she realized that someone must have come back early. There was no time to sneak you into her room, and she doubted that whoever had just walked in would simply not look in her direction, as the TV was still playing in the background. 

Natasha turned her head right as Steve stepped into view, and immediately he raised his eyebrows at her. She wasn’t sure if he realized who was currently snoozing on the couch next to her, but she was not about to ask that question. 

The look on her face was something between a plea for him to keep quiet and embarrassment that this even happened in the first place, but she trusted Steve. No words were exchanged in the moment, but an agreement was still made. 

She could hear him in the kitchen filling up a glass of water, and her phone buzzed with a text. No one else is supposed to be back until tomorrow afternoon, it read. If you need any help sneaking her out, let me know. 

Natasha breathed a sigh of relief, sending a thank you text in response, along with a promise to let him know if she needed him to run interference. Yes, she would have to tell everyone about this eventually, but she wanted a little more time to bask in the glow of her new relationship, and maybe even shock them by accompanying you to an event or awards show (since they seemed so dead set on teasing her about her feelings). 

Her phone buzzed once more, and this time the text contained a link to one of the music videos from your newest album, titled “Only For You.” I guess we know who her muse is now, The message read. Natasha playfully rolled her eyes, but didn’t really bite back. She probably would have done the same thing for him anyway. 

- the end -

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[mandarinmoons]

hi! could I maybe request a spencer x reader where reader is a college student (she's like 20 something) and her exams are coming up and she's really struggling with stress and anxiety and low self esteem and no motivation and in the process shuts spencer off but spencer is a very stubborn and caring boyfriend and tries to help her?

have a great day love! 🫶🏻

Countless papers and empty cups of coffee littered your desk as you were sitting, slouched in your chair. You’d lost count of what time it was, the last thing you remember was that it was around 8:30 in the morning when you woke up, had some toast for breakfast and dove into your studies. Now, the sun was setting and your stomach was aching because of how empty it was and yet you still stayed in the exact same position, scanning your notes and trying to memorize every detail.

You were so deep in your studies that you didn’t hear your boyfriend Spencer let himself in. Spencer looked over your apartment and saw how unlived it looked. Usually your TV would be on with a random show playing in the background and the smell of your favorite candle filling the air, but it was dead silent and no hint of magnolia was sensed anywhere.

As he walked into the kitchen he barely saw any dishes in the sink which made him concerned. Spencer knew that you were working hard on preparing for your final exams, but seeing you not taking the time to take care of yourself worried him deeply.

Spencer walked to your bedroom and sighed when he saw you resting your head on your desk, head nestled between your arms.

“Sweetheart…”,

He made his way to you and rested his hand on your head, his thumb caressing over your hair. The act of affection awoke you and you stayed put as you let Spencer comfort you.

“I think you’ve been working too much.”

“I’m okay.”

Spencer crouched down to your level and brushed the hair out of your face, “Your face says otherwise.”

You rolled your eyes at his words and a light chuckle left his lips. Spencer was always worried about your well being and especially for the past few weeks. You had a habit of throwing yourself into your work and giving it your all, but in the process you’d forget to take care of your basic everyday needs and Spencer was adamant about reminding you of the smallest of tasks, from brushing your teeth to drinking enough water.

“Spencer, I’m alright. You don’t have to keep checking up on me.”

Spencer wanted to believe you, but the tears in the corners of your eyes told a different story.

“I’m fine Spence, really,” the tears poured down your face before you had a chance to hide them, your throat burning as you tried to hold back a cry.

Feeling ashamed, you wiped at your cheeks harshly and Spencer pulled you tight into his chest, one hand still caressing your head while the other one rested on your back.

Sobs racked through your body as all the pent up stress finally had a chance to be let out, shaking from anxiety and hiccups being choked out.

After some time, your cries calmed down and you felt your body go limp in Spencer’s arms, as the crying had exhausted you to the point where you thought you would fall asleep right then and there.

Before you had a chance to let the exhaustion consume you, you felt Spencer pick you up and lay you down on your bed. He crawled down next to you and brushed his thumb over the red streaks across your cheeks. He looked so sad, seeing how your state of being affected him so much made you feel guilty. Why couldn’t you have taken more breaks? Spencer was probably scolding you inside his head for skipping lunch so many times.

“I’m not mad at you, you know.”

“You’re not?”

Spencer shook his head and rubbed his thumb over your temple, “I could never be mad at you.”

Another set of tears were burning your eyes as you took in his words. Before they had a chance to spill over, Spencer nuzzled closer and kissed your cheek a few times causing you to giggle.

“I hope you know you’re not getting rid of me so easily.”

“I know.”

“Good, now,” Spencer pulled you close into his chest, the smell of his cologne instantly putting you at ease. It's as if the anxiety attack you experienced not too long ago never even happened.

“I want you to stay put for the next hour or so, just rest and then later we’re going to take a bath and have a nice dinner, how does that sound?”

“That sounds amazing,” your face was already tucked into the crook of his neck, feeling Spencer squirm lightly as your breath tickled his neck.

It always amused you how sensitive he was and you were trying your best not to place a kiss to the skin of his neck as you knew he’d erupt into laughter, a sound that easily made even the worst days brighter, but you decided not to tease him, for now at least.

What was supposed to be an hour of cuddling, turned into both of you waking up at 9 PM, dazed and not knowing what planet either of you were on.

Seeing that it was a little too late to prepare dinner at this time at night, you both settled on frying some eggs & bacon and Spencer cut up some fruit for the side, as well as telling you some fun facts about them.

“Did you know that bananas are full of several types of antioxidants that are linked to reduced risk of heart disease and macular degeneration?”

“I do now.”

As you finished eating, Spencer wouldn’t let you go back to sleep until you had a shower. You huffed and got in the shower, letting the warm water run down your body as you lathered your loofah in soap.

Walking out of the bathroom clean & fresh, you walked to your bedroom and a gasp left your lips as you took in the sight in front of you.

The room was lit up with candles, the signature scent of magnolia in the air. The bed was covered in multiple pillows and blankets, making it the coziest spot you’ve seen in a while, while the papers on your desk were organized into neat stacks.

“How’re you feeling?”

Turning your head, Spencer walked in and held two mugs, the smell of peppermint emanating from them. Peppermint tea, once again, one of your favorites.

“A lot better now, thanks,” Spencer handed you the mug as the both of you sat on the edge of the bed.

“Y/N, you can’t keep going on like this.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes settled on the mug in your hands as Spencer’s hand found its spot on your lower back again.

“Don’t be sorry, just try to tell me when you need some help, okay?”

“I will.”

“Good.”

Spencer pressed his lips to your forehead in a kiss before resting his own forehead against yours, as a simple act of intimacy that meant the whole world.

“Now c’mon, let’s have our tea before it gets cold.”

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[v6quewrlds]

❝ last to know, a. svechnikov. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: it's always nice to hear about the canes' team bonding activities. but when andrei comes home with a november challenge, you know the only solution is to kill seth jarvis.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: yay first svechy fic. hope y'all know that's my baby boy. it's me and google translate against the world <3 this is day one of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, jarvy's an idiot, andrei gets a little grumpy, google translated russian, andrei calls reader kisa (kitten), moya lyubov (my love), and malishka (baby), bratty!reader, dom!svech at the end, choking, oral (fem receiving), fingering, squirting.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: andrei svechnikov x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 5.3k.

The evening air was cool, hinting at the early arrival of winter. Inside the cozy apartment, the smell of onions and garlic sizzling in olive oil filled the kitchen. You wore a simple pair of black leggings and an oversized t-shirt as you chopped vegetables for the stir-fry. Your hands moved with precision, each chop echoing in the quiet space. Andrei stood towering over the stove, carefully tossing the chicken in the makeshift wok. His muscular arms flexed with the motion, and you couldn’t help but sneak glances at his broad back.

Andrei caught you staring and winked playfully. "What are you looking at, kisa?" he asked in his deep, accented voice. You rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance, but a smirk danced on your lips.

"Just making sure you don’t burn our dinner," you quipped, tossing a pepper slice in his direction. He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. The two of you had been living together for six months now, and your playful back-and-forth banter was as much a part of your daily routine as your career obligations.

"You know I'm better in kitchen than on ice," he said, a smug smile playing on his lips.

You scoffed, throwing a handful of sliced mushrooms into the pan with a dramatic flair. "Right, is that why I've had to clean burnt pans more times in the last six months than I have my entire life?"

Andrei shrugged, his smile growing wider. "You know I'm just teasing, moya lyubov." He reached over and pinched your side gently, making you squeal and swat his hand away. The stress of the day had dissipated, replaced by the warmth of your easy banter. The two of you worked in a harmonious dance, you adding the final touches to the meal while Andrei plated your dinner. You sat down at the small kitchen table, the TV playing highlights from the latest Hurricanes game in the background.

As you ate, your conversation turned to the upcoming team events. Andrei mentioned the Thanksgiving gathering at the captain’s place at the end of the month with a hint of excitement in his voice. "You could not go last year but you will love it, kisa. It's going to be so much fun."

You nodded, swirling your fork through the noodles on your plate. "I’m looking forward to it. But some of the girls were talking about a challenge you guys are doing?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Andrei's face grew slightly red as he took a sip of his water, avoiding eye contact.

"Is just something...stupid," he mumbled. "Some of the guys on the team are trying to not...you know."

Your eyes narrowed, your curiosity piqued. "What do you mean, 'not'?"

Andrei sighed, setting down his fork. "They're doing a thing called 'No Nut November'. It's where you...try, um, not to climax for the whole month."

Your mouth dropped open. "Are you serious?" you exclaimed. "Why on earth would you agree to that?"

Andrei shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. "Just ispytaniye, you know? The guys talked to me," he said, his English faltering slightly in his bashfulness. "But it is okay. We have fun."

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You knew Andrei had a competitive streak, but this was ridiculous. "So, what, you're just going to ignore me for a whole month for a challenge?" you said, trying to keep the annoyance from your voice.

Andrei looked at you with those puppy dog eyes you had come to love. "Nyet, kisa, it's not like that. We can still...you know, do everything else."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Everything else?" you questioned. "So, you want to be abstinent for a month because of some dumb bet?"

Andrei looked at you sheepishly. "It is not a bet," he clarified. "Team bonding. Like when we go dry January."

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. "Yeah, but you hate those challenges," you pointed out. "What's the deal with this one?"

Andrei sighed, his shoulders dropping.

"Honey, tell me who put you up to this," you pressed, your voice filled with a mix of amusement and annoyance.

He took a deep breath before admitting, "Jarvy." Your eyes widened with understanding. You were going to kill Seth Jarvis.

You put down your fork and leaned back in your chair. "Why didn't you tell me it was him? Is he bothering you?" you said, your voice filled with the mock concern of a mother tending to her distressed toddler.

Andrei's cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red as he groaned at your tone. "He just was talking, and I thought...I could do it," he said, his voice trailing off.

You studied him for a moment, your expression unreadable. "Alright, fine. You can do your 'No Nut November' thing," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you're not getting off that easy."

Andrei looked up, hope flickering in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Your smirk grew more mischievous. "I mean, I'll make sure you really feel like you're participating in this challenge," you said, your voice low and filled with a hint of laughter. Andrei's eyes widened slightly as you pushed your chair back and stood up from the table.

For the next few days, you made it your personal mission to test Andrei's resolve. You wore outfits that you knew would drive him wild, your short shorts and tight tops leaving little to the imagination. You would strut around your apartment, hips swaying with each step, eyes sparkling with amusement at his obvious discomfort. Andrei tried to resist, his eyes darting away whenever you caught him looking, but you could see his jaw clench and his fists tighten.

One evening, after a particularly tiring day of teasing, you lay on the couch with a knowing smirk, your legs crossed and your fingers tracing circles on your bare thigh. Andrei sat in the chair opposite you, his eyes glued to the TV but his mind clearly elsewhere. He cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension that hung in the air like a thick fog.

"Kisa, why do you do this to me?" he murmured, his voice deep with frustration.

Your smirk grew wider as you shrugged. "Just trying to make sure you're really committed to this whole 'challenge,'" you said, emphasizing the last word. You leaned back, your fingers continuing their torturous dance. Andrei's eyes followed the movement, his own eyes darkening with desire.

The tension between the two of you grew palpable. Andrei shifted in his chair, his discomfort clear. "You're being mean, kisa," he said, his voice thick. You sat up, placing your hand on his knee.

"I know, I know," you said, your voice softening with faux understanding. "But think of the prize at the end. You'll have earned it." Andrei groaned, his eyes pleading.

You stood up, your hand sliding over his thigh. "Come on, baby, let's go to bed." You could feel his resistance wavering, and you reveled in the power you held over him.

Andrei's eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, you thought you had won. But then he leaned back and took a deep breath, his Russian stubbornness shining through. "No, kisa. I finish what I start."

Your smirk faded, replaced with a look of determination. "Fine," you said, your voice a purr. "But I won’t make this easy for you, Andrei."

The next two weeks were a battle of wills. Every move you made was calculated to push Andrei to his breaking point. You would lean over to grab something, giving him a perfect view of your cleavage. You would sit on his lap while you watched movies, your body warm and inviting against his. And each time he'd try to make a move, you would push him away, reminding him of his commitment to the challenge. Andrei's patience grew thinner with every passing day, his eyes darkening with need whenever you were near.

The day of the Thanksgiving gathering finally arrived. Andrei was on edge, his usual stoic, confident demeanor cracking under the pressure of his raging hormones. The two of you arrived at Jordan Staal’s home, the aroma of roasting turkey and sweet potatoes greeting all the guests at the door. You looked stunning in a carefully selected silk dress, your confidence deepening when you saw the other wives and girlfriends' reactions to your attire. You knew Andrei would struggle all night, and you were more than ready to watch him squirm.

As you mingled, the conversation inevitably turned to No Nut November. The other wives and girlfriends laughed at the idea, sharing stories of their partners' failed attempts. Andrei's teammates exchanged knowing glances, and you felt a twinge of annoyance that you were the butt of their private joke. But you held your tongue, smiling sweetly as you listened to their banter.

“You look good, girl.” Gianna, one of the player’s girlfriends, whispered to you with a knowing smile as she passed by with a tray of drinks. The room was filled with the sounds of laughter and the clinking of silverware as everyone stood around in anticipation of the dinner.

“I can’t believe he’s still holding out on you, sweetie. Most of the guys gave up by week two,” one of the wives named Melissa said with a wink.

You couldn’t help but feel a smug sense of pride at the thought of Andrei’s tortured self-control. You took a sip of your wine, watching as he talked with Jordan and his wife, Heather, his eyes occasionally straying to you. You knew he was desperate for release, and you were enjoying every second of his torment.

As the evening progressed, Andrei's touches grew bolder, his hands lingering a little longer on your waist or brushing against your thigh. You would look up at him with a knowing smile, watching him bite back his desire. When you were alone in the kitchen for a brief moment, Andrei leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Kisa, I need you. Let's go home."

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you leaned back into his touch, your voice a seductive murmur. "But the party's just getting started," you teased. "You're not giving up now, are you?"

Andrei's grip tightened on the countertop, his knuckles white. "I can't...not with you looking so sexy," he admitted, his accent thickening with his arousal. Taking a brief moment to take in his surroundings, Andrei bent down to whisper his plea in Russian into your ear, hoping that the language barrier would shield your conversation from prying eyes and ears.

“Da, ya ponimayu, Andrei,” you whispered back your understanding in what little Russian you knew off the top of your head, your voice dripping with sweetness. “But you need to be stronger than this. Think of the victory you’ll feel when you win the challenge.”

You stepped back, placing the platter of food you had been holding onto the counter with a gentle clink, leaving his hand hovering in the air between you. Andrei’s frustration was palpable, but you felt a thrill of power knowing you had him right where you wanted him.

The dinner was a blur of flavors and forced small talk as Andrei’s eyes followed you around the room. You could feel his gaze on you, his need for you almost tangible. You were enjoying your victory, watching him squirm, his self-control hanging by a thread. As the night went on, the tension grew thicker than the gravy on the turkey.

The two of you found yourselves standing at the edge of the living room, the TV playing a football game neither of you was particularly interested in. Seth Jarvis strolled over, a smug grin plastered on his face. "How's it going, buddy?" he asked, slapping Andrei on the back.

Andrei gritted his teeth. "It's...going," he said through clenched teeth.

Jarvy chuckled. "You know, I didn't think you had it in you. We thought you’d tap out by week one." He winked at you, drawing an eye roll out of you. Andrei's jaw tightened, but before he could say anything, Jarvy cut in again. “We actually bet on it. I lost like a hundred bucks, Svechy. You’re a beast, man."

Andrei's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'we'? Who else is not doing this?"

Jarvy's smirk grew wider. "Well, most of us stopped after the first week. We decided to test how long it would take for you to catch on," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Your mouth fell open as you threw your head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the room. Andrei's face went red with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

"You asshole," he groaned, visibly annoyed but trying to hold back his self-deprecating laughter. "Why did you not tell me?"

Jarvy shrugged, his grin unabated. "It's not fun if you know, right?" He clapped Andrei on the shoulder before walking away, leaving the Russian standing in stunned silence.

You couldn't help but continue to laugh, the tension of the past few weeks finally breaking. You stepped closer to Andrei, your eyes gleaming with mirth. "So, you've been suffering for nothing?"

Andrei's eyes searched yours, a mix of relief and annoyance swirling in their depths. "It will be worth it," he murmured, pulling you into a tight embrace. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, and you knew that the challenge had pushed him to his limits.

“Maybe this will be a good thing after all,” you whispered into Andrei’s ear, your voice filled with amusement as you wrapped your arms around his waist. You felt his body relax slightly against you, his grip on you tightening for a brief moment before loosening.

Andrei leaned down and kissed your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “Ya budu zhdat’,” he murmured in Russian, his voice thick with need. You giggled, feeling his hard chest against yours.

“You’ll have to wait a little longer, my love,” you said, pulling away with a mischievous smile.

Andrei sighed, his grip on your hips loosening slightly. “You are cruel, kisa,” he said, his eyes still dark with desire. You knew you had won this round, but you couldn’t resist pushing him just a little further. You pushed yourself off the wall, stalking back to the group of wives and girlfriends.

The rest of the night was a blur of laughter and food. The tension between you and Andrei had dissipated slightly, replaced with a newfound excitement. As the guests began to leave, Andrei’s hand found yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gentle rhythm that sent shivers down your spine. You knew what was coming, and you were more than ready.

As you two said your goodbyes to Heather and Jordan, Andrei's grip tightened, pulling you closer. His eyes were dark with desire, and you felt your body responding, your core heating with anticipation. You walked to the car in silence, the crunch of gravel beneath your feet the only sound between the two of you.

The drive home was tense, the air in the car thick with unspoken words. Andrei's eyes never left the road, but you could feel his need for you in every tense line of his body. You leaned over and placed your hand on his thigh, your thumb stroking the fabric of his dress pants. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t move away.

When you arrived at your apartment, Andrei practically dragged you inside, the door slamming shut behind you. He slammed you against the door, his mouth claiming yours in a fiery kiss that left you both gasping for air. You moaned, your hands fisting his hair as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Andrei’s hands roamed your body, desperate to feel every inch of you. He slid the silk dress up your thighs, his rough palms grazing your soft skin. Your breath hitched as his thumb brushed against the lace of your panties.

"Now, kisa?" he growled, his voice a mix of need and frustration. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, and you knew you couldn't wait any longer either.

With a sly smile, you whispered, "Alright, let's go to the bedroom."

Your passionate kisses didn't stop as you stumbled down the hallway, Andrei’s hands moving to peel off your dress, his desire unbridled. As you reached the bedroom, the dress fell to the floor in a puddle of silk, revealing your barely-there lingerie. Your heart raced, your body craving his touch.

Andrei laid you on the bed, his eyes dark with want. His fingers traced the outline of your bra, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in Russian, his voice deep and demanding. Your back arched, your eyes closing in pleasure as you felt his mouth replace his hands.

He kissed a path down your body, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your stomach before he reached the apex of your thighs. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, your body begging for his touch. Andrei didn’t disappoint, his mouth closing over your clit through your sheer panties, his tongue flicking and teasing until you were moaning his name.

Your hands were in his hair, guiding him, urging him on as he devoured you. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the softness of his lips, and the roughness of his prickly stubble. Your legs trembled, and you knew you were close to the edge. But Andrei had other plans. He pulled away, his eyes smoldering as he removed your underwear, tossing it aside.

“I want to see you come apart for me, kisa,” he murmured in your ear, his voice thick with lust. “My way of saying sorry.”

Your eyes flew open, meeting his intense gaze. You could feel his hands on your thighs, spreading your legs wider, exposing you to his hungry eyes. Andrei leaned down, his mouth replacing his thumb, his tongue delving deep into your folds. Your grip on the bedsheets tightened as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your body responding to his every touch.

Andrei took his time, savoring every gasp and moan that escaped your lips. His tongue danced around your clit, flicking and swirling, driving you closer to the brink of orgasm. Your hips bucked against his face, your legs tightening around his head, urging him to never stop. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths, the smell of your desire thick in the air.

“Dai, Andrei, please,” you begged, your voice a breathless whisper. Your body was a tight coil, wound up by the masterful way he teased you. Andrei chuckled darkly, his eyes glued to your glistening pussy as he added a finger to the mix, sliding it in and out of you with a rhythm that matched his tongue.

Your eyes rolled back, and you bit your lip to keep from screaming out. His finger curled inside you, finding your sweet spot, and you could feel the orgasm building, ready to crash down on you like a wave. Andrei’s other hand found your breast, squeezing and playing with your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure to your core.

With a final, desperate plea, you came, your body shaking with the intensity of your climax. Andrei didn’t stop, his tongue and finger working in unison until you were nothing but a trembling mess beneath him.

Pulling away, he gave you a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with triumph. Russian rolled off his tongue, “Ya zastavil tebya zhdat' slishkom dolgo, moy milyy kotenok, hmm?” He licked his lips, savoring your taste.

You could only nod, catching the phrase ‘made you wait too long’ and ‘kitten’, your breathing still erratic. Andrei leaned down and kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours, sharing the flavor of your desire. You felt his erection pressing into your thigh, and you reached down to stroke him, your hand wrapping around his thick length.

He groaned into your mouth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. "Malishka," he murmured, his voice strained. He pushed your hand away, standing up to remove his own clothes. His pants hit the floor, revealing his boxer briefs, the outline of his hard cock clear. He stepped out of them, standing before you naked and proud.

You took in the sight of him, your eyes lingering on his toned abs, the V that dipped down to his shaft, the heavy erection that stood tall between his legs. You licked your lips, feeling your arousal spike again. Andrei climbed onto the bed, his movements swift and purposeful.

He positioned himself between your legs, his cock poised at your entrance. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of you, spread out before him, your chest heaving with every breath, your skin flushed from the orgasm he’d just given you. He leaned down, whispering something in Russian that you didn’t understand, but the way his voice vibrated against your skin sent shivers down your spine.

Andrei slid into you with a groan, his thickness stretching you deliciously. Your nails dug into the bed, your body arching to meet his, your eyes boring into his. He began to move, his strokes deep and measured, each one pushing you closer to another peak.

“Andrei, faster,” you panted, your eyes fluttering shut. You felt his hand wrap around your throat, gently squeezing as his other hand found your clit, his thumb pressing down firmly.

"Open your eyes, kisa," he ordered, his voice gruff with need. Your eyes snapped open, locking onto his as he began to thrust harder, his hips moving with a fierce rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. His thumb on your clit grew more insistent, the pressure just right to send you spiraling toward another orgasm.

Andrei’s grip on your throat tightened slightly, his eyes focused on yours as he whispered, “You want me to make you feel good, malishka?”

Your eyes widened, the dominance in his voice sending a thrill through you. You nodded, your body already obeying his command. He picked up his pace, his strokes growing more erratic as his own climax approached. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, your muscles clenching around him, your walls contracting as you fought for release.

Andrei’s thumb played with your clit with renewed vigor, his hips slamming into you as he claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss. You could feel his cock swell even further, the pink, angry head brushing against your g-spot with every thrust. The hand on your throat tightened, cutting off your air, and making you lightheaded with desire.

He growled in approval, his own climax still a ways off. Andrei’s strokes grew erratic, his movements more primal as he chased his release. Your eyes remained locked with his, the connection between the two of you intense and unbreakable. You could feel the sweat trickling down your spine, your body begging for more, even as you trembled from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

With a sudden movement, Andrei pulled out of you, flipping you onto your stomach with surprising agility. You yelped in surprise, but before you could protest, you felt the head of his cock nudge against your slick entrance from behind. "Andrei," you whined, your voice a mix of pleasure and frustration.

He chuckled darkly. "You want more, kisa?" He didn’t wait for a response before slamming back into you, his hips slapping against your ass. Your moan was muffled by the pillow Andrei had buried your face into. The angle was new, the sensations overwhelming. Each thrust hit deeper than before, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your hands strained against the pillow, pushing yourself back to meet him as he claimed you from behind. You could feel the heat of Andrei’s body surrounding you, his muscles flexing and releasing as he moved in a punishing rhythm. His grip on your hips was firm, guiding your body to his will, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered words that only added to the erotic symphony of your lovemaking.

"Do you want to touch me? Do you want to feel how hard I am for you?" Andrei’s voice was a gruff whisper in your ear as he pounded into you, his hand reaching around to stroke your clit again. You nodded frantically, your voice lost in the pillow.

"Vpered, prodolzhat'," Andrei hummed over you, giving you the permission you craved to reach out and feel his skin on yours.

You reached behind yourself, your hand finding his forearm, the muscles tight with effort. Your fingertips danced along the slick skin, feeling the power in every flex of his bicep as he pounded into you. The sensation of his cock filling you from this angle was exquisite, and you could feel your body responding, already building towards another peak.

Impatient, Andrei yanked you up by your arms, so you were on your knees, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. You moaned, your hands reaching back to grip his hips, your nails digging into his skin. He groaned, his movements growing more urgent. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, a testament to your passion.

"Harder," you gasped, your body begging for more. Andrei obliged, his strokes growing rougher, his grip on your hips tightening. You could feel his cock swell even further, his balls slapping against your clit with each powerful thrust. Your body was on fire, your orgasm building again.

Andrei leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth at your ear. "Khoroshiy?" he murmured in Russian, his voice sending shivers down your spine as he asked if you were good. You nodded, your body tightening as you approached the edge once more, unable to form words to respond to him.

He whispered something else you couldn’t process, and you felt him shift his angle, his cock brushing against that sensitive spot deep within you. A whiny moan escaped your lips, and your head fell back against your boyfriend's shoulder. Andrei’s breath grew ragged, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm that had your toes curling.

"Come for me," he demanded, his fingers trailing up to your throat once more. The gentle pressure was enough to send you spiraling over the edge, your body convulsing around his. Your scream of pleasure was broken as it fought its way through your constricted airway. Your soul practically left your body, the orgasm so intense it was almost painful. You could feel the fluid leaving your body, dampening the sheets as droplets landed on Andrei who simply grunted, his strokes never slowing.

"Andrei," you panted, your voice hoarse from screaming. He leaned down, kissing the side of your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. "Ya lyublyu tebya, kisa," he murmured, his voice thick with passion.

"Love you," you hummed, your words faltering as you came down from your orgasm.

You felt his thumb tracing lazy circles against your pulse point. His other hand found your clit, his movements precise and demanding. Your body responded instantly, your hips bucking back to meet his. You could feel him smiling against your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

When you finally came back to Earth, you could feel Andrew’s cum sticking to your thighs. You collapsed onto the bed with a sigh, your legs quivering, your breathing ragged. "I didn’t even realize you came too," you murmured, turning to look at him over your shoulder.

Andrei pulled out, his cock glistening with your combined juices. He didn’t bother to cover himself as he stumbled over to the bathroom to clean up. When he returned, he was still hard, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his aroused state. You had never seen him like this before, so raw and needy. It was both interesting and exhilarating.

He climbed back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He reached out, his hand grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads were touching. His voice was low and gruff as he whispered, "You think this is funny?"

Your smile grew wider, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "A little," you admitted. Andrei’s grip tightened, but you didn’t flinch, your own desire sparking for a brief second as you felt his length finally begin to soften against your leg.

"Legs," Andrei hummed, instructing you to open up so he could clean you up. You giggled, your cheeks flushed with pleasure and a hint of embarrassment, spreading your legs wider for him. His gentle touch and the cool cloth against your sensitive skin were a cool relief from the fiery passion you had just shared. He took his time, wiping away every trace of your lovemaking, his focus on taking care of you in the aftermath of your passion.

Once you were cleaned up, Andrei lay beside you, pulling you into his arms. His chest was still heaving, his heart racing from the intensity of your encounter. Your eyes drifted shut, a contented sigh escaping your lips as you felt the warmth of his body envelop you. His hand caressed your back, his thumb making soothing circles that had you melting into him.

The two of you lay there, basking in the afterglow, your skin sticky with sweat, the scent of sex heavy in the air. Andrei’s arm was wrapped around your waist, his leg thrown over yours in a possessive manner. You felt his breath against your neck, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. It was moments like these you cherished, the quiet moments after passion had taken over, when your bodies were still joined, your hearts beating as one.

“Why did you do this to me?” Andrei’s voice was a mix of playfulness and exasperation. You chuckled, turning your head to look at him.

“Me? Do this to you?” you replied, feigned innocence in your tone. You wiggled closer, your eyes sparkling to match the cheeky smile that graced your face. “You’re the one who started this whole 'No Nut November' thing. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t forgetting how good we are together.”

Andrei sighed, his hand tightening briefly around your waist before he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I never forget, kisa,” he murmured, his voice thick with appreciation. You felt a warmth spread through you, his pet name for you a sweet reminder of his affection. You snuggled closer, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you.

For a moment, you lay in silence, the only sound the distant murmur of the Raleigh nightlife. Then Andrei spoke up, his tone more serious. “No more challenges for me.”

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him with a hint of skepticism. “What about your pride, Svech?” you teased, using his nickname.

“You are my pride, kisa,” he replied, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that you hadn’t seen before, and it made your heart race.

You leaned up on your elbow, studying his face. “Really?” you whispered, your voice filled with wonder. Andrei nodded, his thumb brushing over your full bottom lip.

“You win, kisa. I can’t resist you, and I don’t want to.” His eyes searched yours, a silent promise in their depths. You felt your heart swell, the love you felt for him overwhelming you. You leaned in, your lips pressing to his in a gentle kiss. It was filled with all the love and passion you felt for this man who had stumbled into your life and turned it upside down in the best way possible.

Andrei’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, and deepening the kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, dancing with yours in a silent apology for his earlier stubbornness. You melted into the embrace, your bodies still humming together from the show of your love.

[screwitbaby]

date night

hamzahthefantastic x reader (oneshot)

summary: hamzah had made a reservation for you two to go on a date night, only to miss it and have to make it up to you ;)

contains: smut, fluff, general NSFW content

a/n: hiii this is my first post pls go easy on me and the song is just there bc i feel like it applies to how i feel abt hamzah (also that pic of him is ridiculous but i love it muahaha)

-

You couldn’t believe it. You were sitting in this boujee Italian restaurant, all dolled up and quite frankly famished, waiting for your boyfriend to magically appear an hour after you had agreed to meet.

The waiter came to check on you for the upteenth time when you decided you’d had enough humiliation for the night. You finished the last of the white wine in your glass and ordered an Uber.

When you got home, you stripped of your dress and heels, eyeing the desecration of your room that took form during the process of you getting ready for the night. You could’ve been at his place by now, but instead you were stuck cleaning up the reminder of your failed date.

You were strewn across the couch in just a T-shirt, absentmindedly watching a movie when you heard knocking on your apartment door. You got up to look into the peephole and sighed. You unlocked it without even opening it. You refused to look at him, simply walking to the couch and focusing on the TV.

“Baby, I’m so so sorry,” Hamzah said once he was inside.

Your vision was obstructed by a bouquet of flowers; an array of purple hyacinth, phlox, and snowdrop amidst green tuberose stalks that had yet to bloom. You took them from his hands and placed them in a vase on the kitchen counter, all while he was following you like a kicked puppy and apologizing.

“I cried all my makeup off,” you said.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “I was trying to finish up the video with Martin, but our footage got corrupted and—I’m sorry. I know I fucked up.”

“At least you know,” you mumbled, fiddling with the flowers. You tried not to cry but some tears escaped despite your best efforts.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He walked up behind you and put his hands on your waist. “You can slap me if you want.”

“Hamzah,” you sighed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m serious,” he said, grazing his fingertips across your sides. “I thought I could get it done and make it to our date, but I only made you upset. I’m a fool.”

He began kissing your shoulder and you melted into his embrace. His lips trailed all the way up your neck to your cheek. You tilted your head to the side and exhaled.

“I’m so stupid,” he said in between placing chaste kisses on your skin. “Why would I do that to my babygirl?”

You turned around in his arms and crossed yours, finally making eye contact. “Is this your idea of ‘making it up to me’?”

“I don’t know,” he said, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Is it working?”

He was still in his dress clothes and you found it so annoying how even through your dejection, you still found him so charming.

“If you have to ask…”

He tilted his head and smiled with his tongue in his cheek. “It’s not funny.”

“It isn’t, babe,” he said, hands finding your hips again. “I just can’t stand you being angry at me.”

“Then don’t make me angry.”

“And your lips are swollen and your eyes are red from crying,” he continued on, swiping your tears away with his thumb. “But I still can’t fathom how beautiful you are. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He held you against him and placed kisses on your neck, right on your pulse. You felt him begin to suck and held back a moan, not wanting to give in just yet.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, kissing the splotchy red mark he left.

“Show me that you do,” you said.

He pulled away to look you in your eyes. “Show you?”

You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to make a move. He got the hint and took your hand to lead you to your bedroom, all too familiar with the floor plan of your apartment. When you arrived at the bed, he lied down and pulled you on top of him. Then, his lips pressed against yours.

You immediately licked at his lips, not wanting to take it slow. Your movements were fueled by anger, his passion. You hated how quickly you’d respond to his advances, so you made sure he’d know you weren’t there to make love.

Your mouths clashed and your palms laid flat on his chest, holding you up as you tried to get as close to each other as possible, to becoming one. You ground your hips against his, already feeling his dick rising to attention against you. He held your hair back with one hand as the two of you got more insatiable.

Your clothes came off and he pulled your panties to the side, his fingers touching you where you needed him most. You moaned against his lips, rocking yourself against his digits that were covered in your slick. It was when you reached down into his boxers that he stopped you, a string of spit still connecting you.

“It’s all about you tonight, baby,” he said, breathless.

He hastily pulled you up his torso and you would’ve lost your balance if he wasn’t holding you in place. He pressed a kiss against your clothed clit and you shivered, biting your lip.

“Take it off,” he growled, so you did.

With you grabbing the headboard, he pulled you down in one swift motion onto his face. His tongue swiped up your wetness and a moan ripped through your throat at the sudden contact. He showed no mercy, palms grasping at your ass to rock you harder against him as he fucked his tongue in and out of you. As his nose rubbed against your clit deliciously, you called his name out like a prayer.

One of his hands reached up to pinch at your nipples and you gasped, slipping your hand into his curls and pulling. He groaned and the vibrations sent shockwaves through you that only pushed you closer to the finish line. He ate you without breaking apart for a single breath. Blinding white heat filled your veins when he began desperately suctioning his lips on your clit and it was all getting to be too much.

“Cum for me,” he mumbled against your heat.

Something awakened within you when you felt the stinging sensation of a smack against your ass. The obscene sound of his moans against you echoing through the room. His saliva mixed with your arousal and creating a wet friction that had your eyes rolling back into your head. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You rode his face with shaky legs, crying out as your orgasm racked through your body and turned your brain to mush. He held you down and torturously nipped at your skin, kissing and licking at your thighs and pubic bone. He didn’t stop until he had lapped up all of you. When you’d finally had enough, you held his hands and climbed off, sitting up against the headboard to try and collect yourself.

Oxygen filled your lungs for the first time in what felt like hours. You looked to your left, watching him clean the traces of you on his face and lick it off his fingers. You groaned and turned on your side to nuzzle yourself into his rapidly rising and falling chest.

“I love you,” he said. You leaned up to kiss him lazily, tasting yourself on his lips. “And I’m sorry for tonight.”

“I know. I love you,” you replied, resting your cheek on his pec and gently tracing his happy trail with your finger. “I don’t like that restaurant much, anyway.”

He huffed out a laugh at your words. “For real?”

“Yeah, I only go ‘cause it’s your favorite,” you admitted. “I’d prefer your cooking.”

He laughed again and you dug your face into his bouncing chest, biting back your smile.

“I wish you told me that before I made you cry,” he whispered. The same relentless fingers that were inside you just minutes before delicately ghosted across your spine.

“You know what would really make it up to me?” You placed your chin atop your hands and stared at his big brown eyes.

“Hmm?” He gently wiped the remnants of mascara from under your eyes.

“If you made me some food. Now.”

He grinned and kissed your forehead before getting up from bed, making you whine. He tossed one of his shirts on the bed for you and you pulled it on.

“I’m making spaghetti bolognese.” He leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed and you shamelessly took in the sight of his biceps flexing. “How’s that sound, baby?”

“Perfect,” you sighed. He began to retreat down the hall until you called out his name. “What about you?”

You motioned towards his dick and he shook his head. “Who said I was done with you?”

~

a/n: AHHHH lmk if u liked it !!!

[melobin]

scary ✧ yang jungwon

warnings - smut, cockwarming, hints at dom!jungwon, noona kink, reader plays a horror game (not really) light mentions of horror, slight manhandling, light finger sucking, unprotected sex. creampie.

wc - 1k

summary - your boyfriend jungwon decides he wants you to comfort him whilst you play a scary game, but he ends up being the one to comfort you.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“wonnie” you whined as his fingers dug into your skin, arms wrapped snugly around you, hips shifting a little causing you to sink down a little further on his cock.

“noona” he sighed into your neck, eyes watching the tv screen as you played your game, some silly game in the resident evil franchise, something he paid not attention to even though it was in front of him, he was too body focusing on you. he smiled against your skin when he felt you clench around his cock at the name. “noona you need to focus, i might get scared if you don’t concentrate” you could have sworn he was taunting you. he was. he was sly, lips curling up into a subtle smirk, eyes narrowed as you squeezed around his cock again. the cat like demeanour of the boy done nothing to help you regain focus on your game, your eyes scanned the screen as a zombie jumped out of the dark corner onto the body of your character; leonard? leo? leon? jungwon couldn’t remember his name, nor could he find it in himself to care.

what he did care about though, was the way your body jolted in his grip as fear from the jumpscare ran through you. cunt clenching around his cock again, he hissed into your ear, grip becoming impossibly tighter on his skin, you were sure you’d be left with bruises after.

“noona” it was more of a groan this time, voice a few octaves deeper than before “you’re not very good at protecting me” he giggled out his last few words, content in hearing the way you whined as the zombie took away a large chunk of your health. from what jungwon could assume was happening on the screen, you’d seemed to have given up. character no longer fighting back as the zombie pushed him to the floor and ripped open the skin of his neck, the sudden attack of gore made jungwon grimace but he found himself distracted once the room was lit up with the red light that emitted from the you died screen.

“i’m trying” your voice was a whine again, each word that left you just caused him to giggle again. you were so cute. he just wanted to eat you up.

“you do feel quite tense” his fingers trailed around your skin before he had a hand on each side of your hips “maybe you need help relaxing a little before continuing” his lips were close to your ear, warm breath sending a line of goosebumps along your skin due to it contrasting with the cold chill in the air around you. he hummed against your neck when you squeezed around his cock again “do you like the sound of that, noona?” he was pushing your buttons, trying to see how far he could go before pushing you over the edge of begging for him to fuck you. it was his favourite little game to play with you.

“you know i do wonnie” his fingers crept up your body, trailing along the skin of your cheek before turning your head to face him. he leaned in, pressing a gentle, open mouthed kiss to your parted lips before pulling away and dragging his thumb along the now damp spot. thumb pushing into your slightly open mouth, a smile gracing his lips as you greedily sucked on the skin. he was sure you felt his cock throb inside of you when your tongue swirled around the digit. he had enough, he couldn’t tease you any longer, especially with how he cock was wedged deep inside of you. his fingers moved quickly to curl around the controller that was in your hands before he took it from you and threw it aside.

jungwon’s next few movements caught you off guard, where you once found yourself seated on his lap; you now found yourself with the side of your face pressed against the mattress, one of his hands pressing down on the nape of your neck with the other smoothing along the bare skin of your back where your shirt had been pushed up from the intensity of him manhandling you onto your knees.

“wasn’t that hard to tell me what you wanted, was it-“ he bucked his hips forward, your fingers wrapped around the sheets under you as you moaned “-noona?” there was a roughness to his tone as he fucked into you. cock sliding so gracefully against your walls with each thrust due to how utterly soaked you were. spending so long with his cock stuffed inside of you not moving definitely took a toll on you, both of you could see that with the way your thighs were glistening with your slick and the sound his cock made each time he pressed fully into you.

the prolonged cockwarming made it known to both of you that neither of you would last long, jungwon was already ignoring growing pit that was beginning to form in his stomach.

“noona” his voice came out a little whiner “ ‘m gonna cum” the hand he hand he had pressed on the nape of your neck moved to messily rub as your clit, wanting to feel you squeeze his cock and cum around it. he needed to feel it. you cried out pleads into the bedsheets, spit drooling out of your mouth as your felt yourself fall into a daze. jungwons relentless fucking had your thighs aching and your orgasm ready to hit.

“wonnie please” he leaned over you, hand pressing against the bed beside you head with his other still toying with your clit.

“come on noona, make a pretty mess on my cock” he littered a few open mouthed kisses against your neck, voice low and breathless near your ear. it was all you needed to be sent over the edge, his cock abusing the spongy spot inside of you until he still himself. the feeling of you pulsating around his eager cock had him filling you with his cum. body collapsing against yours, lips gently touching your skin

“wanna stay inside of you whilst you play” you couldn’t help but giggle at his words, both of you knowing full well it would barely be an hour before you ended up in this exact situation again.

[domm1etae]

Kneeling for a Taste

yunho x f!reader

oneshot | mdni

1.7k

Watching a movie with Yunho turns into anything but cinematic as he loses focus on the screen, transfixed by the sight of your thighs until he can’t hold back anymore

nsfw tags under

m/f, submissive yunho, thigh kink, begging, oral sex (female receiving), passionate, praise, needy/soft dom and more:)))

author's note: you guessed it right! today’s fic is yunho x reader—oh, specifically subby yunho because OH MY LAAAWD! this idea came to me on the bus today, and don’t tell me this isn’t something yunho would do.

The soft glow of the TV screen cast faint shadows across the room as you both settled into the couch. It had been a long week, and a cozy night watching a movie together was the perfect way to wind down. Yunho had chosen the film, something he swore you’d love, but as the scenes played out on screen, his focus began to waver.

At first, he tried to keep his eyes on the screen, but the gentle curve of your thigh, peeking out from beneath the hem of your skirt, kept pulling his gaze. Your legs were crossed, your knee bouncing slightly as you got into the storyline, completely unaware of his growing distraction. The skirt you wore rode up just enough for him to catch the barest hint of the skin above your thigh, each movement a gentle torture as he tried to focus.

Yunho swallowed hard, his eyes tracing the way your thigh pressed against the cushion, his heart starting to race. He’d seen you in skirts before, but tonight, there was something so effortlessly tempting about you. His mind drifted, a warm tingle spreading across his skin, slowly pooling in his lap. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to refocus, but his gaze would flicker back every few seconds, his resolve weakening.

As the minutes passed, his breathing became shallower. He felt himself growing hard, the fabric of his pants suddenly feeling too tight, pressing uncomfortably against his swelling arousal. Each time you shifted, his eyes darted back to the curve of your thighs, the urge to touch you building within him.

At last, unable to resist any longer, Yunho turned toward you, his voice soft and hesitant. "Y/N…"

You looked at him, slightly surprised, but his gaze was unmistakable. His eyes lingered on your legs, his lips parted as though he was on the verge of saying something but couldn't quite bring himself to do it. The sight of his flushed cheeks and the way he shifted, almost nervously, sparked a thrill of curiosity within you.

"What's wrong, Yunho?" you asked, leaning slightly closer.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to find the right words. His gaze dropped to your lap again, and he bit his lip, hesitant. "I just… I can't stop looking at you." His voice was barely a whisper, laced with longing.

Your eyes softened, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you saw the heat in his gaze. You uncrossed your legs, letting the skirt rise just a bit higher, teasing him. His breath hitched, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.

He reached out, his fingers trembling as they brushed against your thigh, his touch gentle and reverent. His hand lingered there, the warmth of your skin against his palm only stoking the fire that was quickly consuming him. His gaze shifted up to meet yours, a silent plea in his eyes.

"Yunho…" You let his name hang in the air, watching the way he reacted to the softness of your tone. His eyes widened slightly, a shiver running through him as he glanced back down, almost ashamed of his own desire.

"Please, Y/N," he whispered, his voice strained with need. His fingers tightened slightly on your thigh as he began to sink to his knees in front of you, his breaths coming faster, more ragged. He looked up at you, eyes full of desperation, his lips parting as he struggled to hold himself back.

"I want you," he murmured, his voice thick with longing. "Please… let me taste you."

The way he knelt before you, so vulnerable and eager, sent a thrill through you. You gently ran your fingers through his hair, letting him feel the weight of your touch as you cupped his face. He leaned into your hand, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the warmth of your skin against his cheek.

"Are you sure you want this, Yunho?" you asked, a hint of teasing in your voice.

He nodded quickly, his gaze intense as he met your eyes once more. "More than anything," he whispered, his voice trembling with need. "Please…"

Yunho’s eyes darted between your face and the bare skin of your thigh, his expression one of unfiltered longing as he waited for your permission. You held his gaze for a moment longer, then shifted, parting your legs just enough for him to see the space between them. His breath hitched as he moved forward, his hands gripping your thighs reverently, his eyes shining with gratitude and desire.

As he lowered his mouth to you, his lips pressing gentle kisses along the inside of your thigh, each touch was tender, deliberate, and filled with the adoration he felt.

Yunho’s breath was hot against your skin as he leaned in, his lips tracing a path along the soft, sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. Every kiss, every whisper of his breath sent waves of anticipation rushing through you, heightening your senses. His hands, still trembling slightly, slid up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the tender muscle as he held you, grounding himself in your warmth. You could feel his need in the way his fingers tightened, as though he feared you might slip away if he didn’t keep you close.

He looked up at you through half-lidded eyes, his lips slightly parted, breathing in the scent of your arousal as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss at the edge of your thigh. His expression was dazed, almost reverent, as if he were worshipping you with each kiss, each gentle caress. There was a slight, breathless sound that left his lips as he brushed them closer to your center, a sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh, as though he couldn’t believe he was finally here.

“Y/N…” he whispered softly against your skin, his voice so full of longing it sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re… perfect.”

You threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling him just a little closer. The encouragement seemed to break his last thread of self-restraint; he dove forward, letting his mouth finally meet your heat. His tongue traced a slow, deliberate path up your folds, the wet warmth of it making you gasp as he savored every inch of you. He explored slowly, languidly, as if committing each taste, each texture to memory.

“God, you taste so good…” he murmured between kisses, his words muffled but full of awe. He buried his face deeper, his tongue circling and flicking over you with increasing fervor, his hands gripping your thighs firmly to keep you exactly where he wanted you. His movements were needy, almost desperate, yet there was a surprising gentleness in the way he held you, as though he wanted to show you just how much you meant to him with every flick of his tongue, every breathless kiss.

You couldn’t hold back the sounds spilling from your lips as he continued, your hands clutching at his hair, tugging him closer. He responded eagerly, moaning softly against you, the vibrations sending ripples of pleasure through your body. His tongue delved deeper, his lips sealing around the sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking gently as he looked up at you, eyes dark with desire.

“Please,” he whispered hoarsely, pausing just long enough to catch his breath, “let me make you feel good… I need to—” His voice was cut off as he dove back in, pressing himself harder against you, as if your pleasure was the only thing that mattered. His eyes closed, his lashes fluttering as he lost himself in the taste of you, every stroke of his tongue bringing you closer to the edge.

Yunho’s hands slid up your thighs again, his fingers spreading you open for him, giving him better access as he nuzzled in deeper, licking and sucking with increasing fervor. His tongue moved expertly, his eagerness making each touch feel electrifying. Just when you thought you couldn’t handle any more, he pulled back slightly, his lips wet and his cheeks flushed, looking up at you with a dazed expression.

“You’re everything I want,” he whispered, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths. His gaze was filled with pure adoration as he lowered his mouth to you again, this time moving with even more focus, his tongue and lips working together to draw out every ounce of pleasure he could.

Your moans filled the room as he quickened his pace, his hands gripping your thighs possessively. His desperation, his absolute devotion to pleasing you, was enough to push you over the edge. You felt your muscles tightening, the wave of pleasure building rapidly, threatening to consume you.

Sensing how close you were, Yunho moaned softly against you, his voice shaking with excitement. “Come for me,” he whispered, his lips brushing against you as he spoke, each word sending sparks through your body. “Please… let me feel it.”

And with that, the coil of pleasure inside you snapped, a blissful wave washing over you as you cried out his name, your body shaking beneath his touch. Yunho held you steady, his mouth not leaving you even for a second as he eagerly worked you through your climax, his tongue gentle but insistent, savoring every bit of your release. He moaned as he felt you pulse against his tongue, the taste of you sending shivers through him as he held you close, his own breathing unsteady.

As you slowly came back down from the high, Yunho stayed there, his head resting against your thigh, his lips pressing gentle kisses along your skin as though he couldn’t bear to part from you. His gaze was soft, filled with adoration, his cheeks flushed and his lips swollen from the intensity of his efforts.

He looked up at you, a shy smile playing on his lips as he took in the satisfied expression on your face. “Did… did I do okay?” he asked softly, his voice still breathless, but his eyes shining with pride at having made you feel so good.

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead, letting him feel your gratitude in that simple gesture. “More than okay,” you murmured, your fingers running through his hair tenderly.

[iluvapplesxh]

︱ So proud, and for what?︱

❀ pair: billie eilish x fem!reader

Your eyelids fluttered open, the harsh light of the morning sun seeping through you and Billie’s bedroom window made them sting but you didn’t shut them as you usually do. Your attention was stolen by the sound of a sniffle from next to you and your neck almost snapped by the speed your head turned to your left, seeing your girlfriend. Blanket up to her chest, hair messy with her phone in her hand. The knuckles of it turned white from the grip she was holding it in and her eyes were red, raw.

Your heart jumped in your throat and a heaviness settled onto your chest, making it seem hard to sit up but you do and you’re slotted into her side in a blink of an eye, brows furrowed in concern and lower lip tucked between your teeth. “Billie?” You croak out, hand lifting to teach her elbow, trying to get a glance at her phone.

Another sniffle left her before her phone was thrown onto the end of the bed, just barely stopping by the edge and she turned, head hitting your shoulder, wet hot tears hitting the fabric of her shirt you’d put on last night. Your arms wrapped around her, still somewhat confused but wanting to comfort her nonetheless.

After what felt like hours and days of listening to her cries and whimpers, she finally spoke, voice raw and shaky; “Kamala lost” Her words made your whole world stop, a lump so bad forming in your throat you wanted to claw at it till it’s inside out. Your fingers gripped her t-shirt, head falling against hers. You felt tears burn your eyes as the realization made your chest heavier than before, breathing ragged. 

The two of you sat there.

In each other’s arms, trying to process everything. 

It suddenly felt like the world came to a stop, your mind racing with the ‘why’s and ‘how’s and many other questions. How could this happen? How did America choose him again? Are we really that selfish?

Your brain couldn't fathom the fact that millions of people who’ve already lived through his economy once, voted for him again like there was nothing to lose. But there was. There was so much to lose, so much at stake and-

Billie’s head rose from your shoulder, cheeks red and wet, small droplets of tears clinging to the ends of her eyelashes. Your eyes met hers and it was like your heart somehow fell lower into the pit of your stomach, sinking lower and lower till you grew nauseous. 

“What now?” 

Her voice shook, gasps of air rattling her chest as she fought tears. Your head shook, helplessness flooding your whole body like acid, burning your skin and making your chest feel hollow. It was your turn to burst into tears, feeling the fear creep up your throat like an unwanted substance, head lowering as your body shook. This time Billie’s arms wrapped around your body, pulling you into her chest, kissing the crown of your head with tenderness and a hint of a promise. A promise that even though it’s really fucking shitty, you’ll have to survive, and she’ll be there and you’ll be there.

The two of you spent hours like that until either of you could force any tears out anymore and you decided to somehow start the day. But nothing felt right, it was quiet. Too quiet and it made you even more scared and aware of everything than you already were. You couldn’t bear to turn on the TV, your phones weren’t picked up since then and you both sat in silence by the dinding table, thoughts unheard but loud in your own heads while you both shuffled the food around your plates.

“Do you think I should still do the show?” Billie spoke up and you looked at her, moistening your dry lips and clearing your throat before responding. 

“If- If you feel like you can…” 

You heard a long sigh leave her lips and she leaned her head back “I don’t know” She muttered and your upper teeth dug into your lower lip, watching the pure feeling of unfairness and disappointment etched in her face.

There were another couple beats of silence before you pushed your plate away and hesitated for a moment before opening your mouth again, lips parting just enough for your words to come out. “Maybe he cheated” 

Billie looked at you again, shifting in her seat and looking down “I don’t know… maybe” She said quietly, a small flicker of hope in her voice but it meant nothing. She chewed on her lip, swallowing around the lump in her throat. You saw her jaw tense and you stood up, walking to her side and taking her face into your hands, tilting it up gently.

“It’s going to be okay” You whispered, thumbs stroking her cheekbones.

Billie basked in the feeling of your touch for a moment before speaking “it’s not who i’m worried about…” She began “it’s every woman suffering right now and the ones who will be because-” You squashed her softly, pulling her head towards you. She rested it on your midsection, eyes closed to keep her tears in. 

And in all honesty, all you had to say to everyone that chose Donald John Trump, was that you hoped so desperately they'd realize just how wrong they were to choose him. You wanted to ask them, why? Why was he the better choice? Why on earth would anyone grown enough to vote choose someone like him? Do they even realize who, what that man is? What he wants?

They were all so proud, and for what?

Of the incoming suffrage of millions and billions of women in the US? Of the pure disgust most of the world is feeling for this country right now?  Of the rights of women, trans people, immigrants who possibly make up the country's working social class taken away?

Was it all for nothing?

✘a/n: i would like to inform everyone that I am NOT American, I am not educated on the topic of the US elections I simply made this out of frustration and empathy.

[acelvrr]

Op characters + their rooms (modern au)

pt.1 ft. Ace, zoro, law

Ace

- whoooow it stank

- LED lights are always on blue cuz my mans always in his feels.

Only turns them red when he’s tryna get the mood on if u know what I mean 😽

- For your own mental health don’t look under his bed or else you’ll get flashbacks to the Tacos you had last Tuesday

- only cleans his room when you are coming over (his definition of cleaning is throwing everything under his bed)

- has his tv opposite his bed so you guys can cuddle and lie in bed whilst watching a movie

Netflix and chill 😼

Zoro

-Room smells like body spray mixed with a hint of lavender because of his lavender sleep mist

-Basic ass room

Argues that he doesn’t need to decorate it because all he does is sleep and workout in there

- everything is either black or grey

- has more dumbbells in his room than clothes

- Buys a super expensive mattress that ‘helps with back problems’. (he got scammed by Nami)

-then shortly after got scammed again, this time into buying overpriced pillows.

Would’ve only bought one if he wasn’t with you

- Has a framed picture of you on his side table and he gets flustered everytime he looks at it 🤭

Law

- clean freak and also very freaky

- changes his sheets everytime someone comes over

- practically lives at his desk, he’s so studious 🤭

- his desk can get veryyyy clattered and messy

- has a towering bookshelf full of textbooks and other books he hasn’t read yet

- whilst he’s studying he always has candles lit , humidifier on and white noise playing in the background

-He rarely ever switches his ‘big light’ on, always used warm toned lamps and is big on using natural light.

-has a few posters up but nothing too fancy

- you are the only person he actually likes having over

-also has a mirror opposite his bed because he’s freakyy

but moves it before going to sleep cuz he claims he doesn’t want any paranormal activity to take place

(he’s just a nerd that spends wayy to much time on Reddit reading about niche topics)

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ THE FUCKING DEAD ⦒ 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥’𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ➠ series masterlist | ⏪prologue | 🔃boy’s route | ⏩part 4

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓┇𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑┇𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐅𝐈𝐂┇𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 JILL VALENTINE X AFAB GN! READER ADA WONG X AFAB GN! READER synopsis: You split ways with Leon and Carlos, choosing to accompany Jill and Ada to Glenn Arias' office. One of you is already infected... content: 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, dubcon, threesome, zombie fucking, oral (reader & f! receiving), toys (vibrator + strap-on in one hole), squirting, fisting, knifeplay, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, latex kink, face sitting, cervix penetration, tonguefuck, hand & finger kink, nipple play, mating press (kinda), choking, body marking, body horror, slight objectification, body fluids, and pet names (kitty, darling). a/n: am gay thanks for cumming to my ted talk « 6 k words | general masterlist | ao3 | reblogs appreciated! »

The five of you parted ways—for better or worse. Is there a choice for you anyway? This is unanimous from everyone. So, you decide to follow the most logical choice: complete the mission as you are instructed, instead of seeking distractions with time you can’t afford to lose.

Leon and Carlos bid the three of you farewell, venturing underground to locate the source of a gas that may or may not be a distraction or an ambush. You, Jill, and Ada will continue upstairs to infiltrate Glenn Arias’ personal office, retrieving the concentrated sample with utmost priority, and regroup with the rest before Arias has a chance to discover his merchandise has gone missing.

The plan is perfect, what’s there to be worried about?

“Our intel says Arias’ office should be on the top floor. The coordinates are on your watch. Proceed with caution, everyone.” Rebecca calls out into your earpiece. Twisting your elbow, you glimpse at your watch. It blinks with your location in green, and destination in red, two floors above you.

“Copy.” You and Jill acknowledge Rebecca, but Ada ignores, simply hiking forward with her pistol leading the way.

“She must be fun at parties.” Jill snorts, following behind her.

This is the first time Jill talks after splitting up with the boys. And even then, she only ever converses with you, and never to Ada. They have almost nothing in common between them, besides their stubborn attitude that only butts at each other’s heads. If you aren’t around, there will only be an air of dead silence between the duo.

But these two are your friends, and you like them both for different reasons.

You recall a past memory between you. “She’s not usually like this outside of missions. We went to a bar one time, and Ada got me free drinks all night. Poor suckers, she swindled them all.”

“Just the two of you?”

“No, it was an afterparty. Rebecca was there. I think you had to stay back for work that day. Why?”

Your eyes meet Jill in confusion, and they quickly dart away. Jill clears her throat to speak again. “So you and Ada are close, huh?”

“I think so,” Jill’s face hints a bit of disappointment, but she tries to force her lips to upturn into a nonchalant smile. You don’t notice this and continue talking: “But not exactly. She saved me a few times, so I’m grateful for her. But I wouldn’t call us friends.”

“And that’s all?”

You wonder where all of this is coming from. Didn’t take her for the kind who enjoys bars and loud spaces anyway. Spending time with Jill is usually just the two of you watching TV, laughing at the over-the-top reality drama from the comfort of the couch, cuddling up right next to each other like a couple of platonic best friends. Before you can speak, you feel a presence in front of you, standing in your way. You pause quickly at the last minute, almost colliding into the figure. Ada. She only looks at Jill when she’s talking.

“You two lovebirds done? Stay alert.” Ada deadpans with no intention of being friendly and warming. “Don’t hold me down.”

“Take care of your shit and I’ll take care of mine.” There’s bitterness in Jill’s voice, and Ada ignores her because your watch is beeping. The green and red dots overlap each other. You’re here.

You put your game face on. You land yourself on the other side of the wooden door to Arias’ office, while Jill and Ada have their backs against the wall closest to the door knob. Ada signals, counting down from three, and then finally kicks down the door. The three of you rush in, guns aimed forward in order to take down any security patrolling the perimeters.

“Huh?” You raise an eyebrow. You lower your gun when realisation sets in that you are indeed in an empty room.

You recognise this dark wood flooring. It adorns proudly, and even more repetitively, throughout the mansion. This room is no different. The desk, cabinetry and shelves are crafted with the same sinister timber that weighs down Arias’ office. Rows of portraits from Arias’ ancestors stare down at you with hollow beady eyes. A tall window, slightly ajar, to let in the cold nocturne wind. No mould.

This room had been cared for—dusted, cleaned, and prepared. Papers spread across the table, fresh ink, even the nameplate is polished into a shimmer. Arias frequents here, either for work—or for other sorts of shady businesses.

Ada immediately gets to work, and she finds a painting with a secret hinge to the side. It opens into a safe with two rotary dials. The sample is so close now, so close to your reach.

“I’ll check for any other clues that may help us.” Jill declares, and she’s flipping through papers on the desk for any information she can send to Rebecca.

But your eyes are still fixed upon Ada with her back facing you. Not leaving her even for just a second. Ada might have saved you a few times, but the amount of times she betrayed you is far greater. A memory sticks out from a conversation in the saferoom when Leon pulls you aside:

“Be careful. Something is very wrong about this place. I don’t know what it is yet…” His words hold weight and sincerity as he speaks. “And about Ada… I don’t trust her. You shouldn’t too. Don’t make the same mistake as I did.” Then Leon loosens the grasp on your arm, and reluctantly lets go…

You refocus, keeping your eyes peeled on Ada, before noticing how beautiful her hands are. How they pinch the dial with ease and precision, almost gliding as she hears the very faint click inside the clockwork of the safe. Her nails are short, painted dearly with scarlet red polish, palms so silky that they almost glisten lightly under the moonlight. You didn’t know the hands of a mercenary can be so pretty, unlike yours, calloused and scabs healed over.

“Are you done watching me?” Ada is still listening to the safe, but she knows you’re looking.

“Huh? I wasn’t—” Your cheeks redden from being caught.

“You think I’m as dense as that rookie? I see you guys talking. Did Leon tell you to watch over me?” Oh. She must be talking about Leon’s warnings in the safe room.

“It… wasn’t about you.” You hesitate and fiddle with your thumb. You are not a great liar, not by far.

“Just tell me.”

Ada turns around to look at you now, telling of how much she knows you. And it’s definitely well enough to see through your lies like translucent paper. Your words tumble under pressure: “He’s just concerned. Told me to keep an eye out.”

Ada scoffs; she’s turning the dial a bit more aggressively this time. “Of course he did. Predictable. The rookie thinks I’m out to get him every single time.” There’s another sigh of exhaustion.

“Well, isn’t that what you did?”

“That’s besides the point. It’s his fault for getting in my way.” Ada clears her throat. “Rest assured, I’ve been compensated well for this job, so you’re safe.”

“For now. I’m not taking my eyes off you.”

“Didn’t take you for the kind to let others tell you what to do.”

You clamp your lips shut. She’s right, and you know it. Your brain racks within itself for a comeback to defend your integrity, and realising instead: Why are you trying so hard to prove yourself to Ada?

Ada is challenging you for sure. Or entertained by you. You can’t tell the difference with her teasing grin that could be either, or both. Are your eyes fooling you, or does Ada seem more... relaxed? Her demeanour is drastically different from when you were in the saferoom, or when you were speaking to Jill. If you didn't know better, you swear Ada actually enjoys your company, maybe even a little bit more than friends.

The safe beeps, signal flashes green, and the hinge loosens to an open. The two of you peek inside. There’s a gold bar. A stack of paper (letters?) bound by a delicate string. But beyond that, nothing.

You hear rustling in the background. Papers falling to the floor. You turn around to see Jill frozen.

“We got the safe open. Did you find anything?”

Jill’s eyes are far off, fixed upon a particular spot. You look towards the direction of her glance, and beyond the window, it overlooks the mansion’s luxurious home garden, overgrown with weeds and wilt. Behind that, a bench and what appears to be either a figure or the trick of a light. It’s too dark to tell.

“Jill.” Ada repeats, slightly raised eyebrows indicating suspicion. Jill returns from her far off location, and sees the two of you in front of her.

“You okay?” You ask, wanting to put your hand on her shoulder. She shrugs you off.

“I’m fine.” Jill’s fist is holding some paper, and she scrunches it to hide it in her back pocket. “Nothing useful. Just old accounts… and stuff. You know.” Ada is watching. Jill changes the topic fast.

“But look what I've found in the drawers.” Jill removes a box from inside the drawer and opens it. It contains a bunch of oddly shaped devices, attached by a belt or some sort.

“Are those what I think they are...?” You question, not quite sure what to make of it just yet.

“In every colour too.” Ada says. “Seems like a 'hobby' of Arias'.”

“Maybe Arias had been using this toy in this room.” Jill snickers, pulling one of them out by the belt, and the girth of the black shaft is thick and erected.

“Jill, stop playing with it.” Your face looks visually disturbed. “Oh my god, my pure and innocent mind...”

“Don't tell me you've never used one of these before?” Ada is grinning, as if you just asked a silly question.

“And you have?”

“Who hasn't?” Jill laughs too. Meanwhile, you are still standing, a look of confusion in your eyes. They look at you, and look between themselves, a synchronous 'oh' left their mouths at the same time. You are still confused.

“Don't worry about it. So what do you guys got there?”

You pick up the stack, and read aloud the first sheet that is addressed to someone.

Dear Sarah, The world had been too cruel to us, separating us from each other far too suddenly, far too soon. Our lives were only just beginning, and fate had to take you away from me. We should’ve had so much more time. And we will. Don’t worry, Sarah, all of this is only temporary. I took your wedding dress to the dry cleaners and safekept it for your return. I still remember how beautiful you looked in that dress walking down the aisle. Yours forever, Glenn

You bring the sheet back to read the next letter.

Dear Sarah, My research was successful. I did it, Sarah, I DID IT!! I can finally bring you home, my love. Didn’t we always said we wanted a child? You told me underneath the moonlight you want to name our daughter Renee. And now, we can finally have them. We can finally be together. Things are in order to make this happen. Me, you, and Renee, for eternity. I’m so excited I’ve painted Renee’s nursery in your favourite colour, green. So much work to do, I’ll write to you again soon, Sarah. You won’t have to wait any longer. Yours forever, Glenn

“Is this Arias’ wife? What do you mean ‘bringing her back’?” Your whole body shudders at the thought.

“She’s dead. One of the many innocents that died in the wedding.” Jill almost punches the wall. “It should’ve been him.”

“He’s trying to revive her? …And have children with the dead?”

“What kind of fucked up shit is he planning?” Jill is shocked, grossed, disgusted all at once on her face.

Meanwhile, Ada, calm and unreactive as ever, is rummaging through the safe again. “No sign of the sample—” Ada confirms, and she withdraws her hand holding a gold bar to transfer it into her gear’s pocket. “—another dead end.”

“Did you just steal something?” Jill is in disbelief.

“Mind your business.” Ada shoots back a glare at her.

“There’s something really fucked up going on in this mansion, and this is how you act? Have some sympathy for the dead, would ya?”

“It’s been dead for a while. Doesn’t matter what we do or what we say, they can’t hear it. All we can do is focus on the present.”

“Why you—” Jill stops midway, like she accidentally swallowed back her words down the wrong hole. Her head is throbbing, heart racing, body attacking her from all sides within. Her throat is closing up, and for a second, Jill can’t breathe. She falls; collapsing onto the table with a loud thump, barely supporting herself with her elbow. Jill coughs; there’s blood.

“Jill! Are you okay?” You cry out, running to her aid, your arm rounding across Jill’s shoulders. It feels cold. Dry. Like you’re touching the furless coat of a dead animal with no warmth left in them.

“I… nnh, I’m fine.” Her voice is straining, but there’s some breathing at least.

“Don’t be stubborn. The colour on your face is gone.” You dip your hand onto Jill’s forehead. The cold sensation fades, and now it’s warm to the touch again, burning like a fever. You question yourself whether the coldness before was an illusion. Bringing your arms around her, you reach to your earpiece. “I’m calling Rebecca.”

“No. Don’t.” She coughs even harder with her weight leaning against you; she’s turning frailer and frailer by the minute. “I’ll be fine. We need to s-stop Arias.”

That is when you hear a click, cold metallic surface pressing against the fabric of Jill’s back. The safety’s off.

“Ada?” Your voice escapes like a pleading squeal, a forced laugh through hopeful desperation that it’s all a prank, that Ada isn’t going to hurt and betray you, just like all the other times. “…What’s up with you?”

“Jill. Get off. Now.” Ada raises her volume to a stern demand, and this time, you know she’s definitely not joking. Jill ought to do as she says soon, or else both of you may catch the bullet with a press of Ada’s finger.

“Ada—” Your voice shrivels into a pitiful whisper. Betrayal again? After everything?

“Jill’s infected. Face it. Thought it was weird why you’re acting funny. The virus is in your body as we speak.” Ada points her gun at Jill.

“Wha—What’re you talking about?” Jill’s face turns white. She coughs once more, hard. There’s blood all over her hand and on the corner of her lips.

“Ada. We need to take her to the hospital now.”

“Does she look okay to you? I’m not going to save your ass again. So get out when I tell you to.” Ada’s finger is firm on the trigger. Determined.

Jill scoffs. “This again? So you’re working for Wesker? You’re trying to take us out one by one. It’s not gonna work.” With a weak grip, Jill grabs her pistol with her remaining energy to aim right back at Ada. Ada doesn’t shoot. She should’ve, but she can’t.

Ada’s guard is up again. “Believe what you want. If you’d like to die today, be my guest. I won’t hesitate to shoot.” She flicks her wrist, demanding you to move aside. “This is your last chance.”

“Ada, please listen! She wasn’t bit. We were together the entire time. You were there too, Ada! She can’t be infected. She can’t be—” You yell in distress, but your sentence trails off into a mumble.

“The gas. The gas has something to do with it.” Ada says.

“Won’t the two of us be sick too?” You say.

Ada’s eyes glare harshly against the two of you, but you can see her thinking, the cogwheels in her brain processing the facts, and her speculation wavers. There’s pity behind the cold blooded glint. Sympathy. Ada’s pistol lowers—

And that was the mistake that costs their lives. Jill turns, roundhouse kicking the pistol off Ada’s hand in her moment of vulnerability. The gun falls, crashing against the rug far from reach. Ada is already reacting, drawing her TMP out but Jill moves faster. Too steadfast. Too superhuman. She tackles Ada to the ground, hands steady against her neck.

Jill’s gaze is obscured by flames, something blinding and controlling from something within her veins and arteries. Despite looking directly at Ada, she can’t see, nor can she distinguish friend or foe. Her hand tightens around Ada’s windpipe, leaving her grasping for air.

You pull up your rifle in a panic frenzy, unloading your round onto Jill. But she does not flinch, does not even look your way. There’s a dent in her skin where your shots land, but there’s no blood. “Goddamit, what the fuck, Jill! What is wrong with you?”

But Jill can’t hear you. Only the crackle of flame and roar of wildfire burning and reverberating through her head. Echoing twice and thrice over. Ada is grunting soundless moans, still attempting at escape with how she continues to fumble for the TMP on her waist belt. Then, Jill steps on Ada’s hand with sheer force and unnatural strength, crushing the smooth palm with the sole of her feet, twisting it until all the delicate bones become unrecoverable. And all hope was lost again.

Jill sinks her teeth into Ada’s neck, not with much mercy either. There is a sound of flesh torn, a blood crying scream to taint the air. The blood velvet rug paints a deeper red and Jill releases. Ada flops to the floor, paralysed, but not deadly enough for a fatality. Her beautiful skin, once full of vigour and charm, stained red with her own blood, the veins around turning deeper purple thriving like tree roots across the earth.

You look at Jill—and she’s smiling. It’s not the slight curve of her lips you’re used to when you tell her that her haircut is nice. Or the reluctant embarrassed grin she has when you thank her for standing up for you. This was something else.

This was something from hell.

She’s no longer the Jill you know. ‘Jill’ turns around to meet you in the eye. You back away, rifle aiming forwards despite knowing it’s all fruitless. Your hands shudder from within, none of your shots will hit even if you try. But you had no choice. You have to try even if it’s fruitless. Then you aim at Jill directly on the head. It’s harder than it looks, killing your best friend, even if they are a zombie.

It misses and lands on her shoulder instead. There’s a notable grimace on Jill’s face as she flies to catch the bullet from within her shoulder. She flicks the bullet away and her grin spreads widely, and she chuckles a sinister giggle. “That hurts, you know…”

“Jill?” These BOWs aren’t supposed to speak. They should be monsters. This is your first time meeting one of these too, and you did not expect them to be one of your closest friends. You should be careful. If they can speak, do they have the intelligence to manipulate you too?

“What’s wrong, kitty?”

“Fuck you.” You grit your teeth. “I’m not turning into one of you.”

She merely laughs. “Admit it. You think this is hot.”

“Fuck off.” You have Jill’s eyes locked, other hand inching closer and closer to your back pocket, reaching for the radio. But it was no use. A hand—bloodied and broken—grabs you by your wrist, twisting it behind you forcefully. You wince. Ada is right behind you, her eyes looking into yours with the same blank stare Jill has. She’s turned. And so quick too?

“Our darling, can’t seem to stay put? I think it needs punishment.” Ada’s breath is blowing against your neck. You shiver.

“Oh… like what kind?” Jill’s eyebrows are raised and intrigued.

Jill answers the question herself by unsheathing her pocket knife. You swallow hard as she takes each purposeful step towards you, savouring in your fear. Your wrists struggle against Ada’s grip, which she responds by tightening it further that your bones are almost breaking from her touch.

“It’ll hurt more if you resist.” Jill drawls out her words, licking the surface of the knife. She brings her knife forward, laying the flat edge of the knife against your cheek, drawing a little blood at first, then a bit more droplets gather onto the knife. She slurps on it, licking the crimson nectar clean off her knife. “Just relax, kitty. It’s us. Jill and Ada. Your teammates.”

“We won’t hurt you, darling. You can trust us.”

For a moment, through the hazy blink of a spell, you see your friends. Ada, mysterious yet always saving you during trouble. Jill, indifferent yet is always the first to defend you. They’re absolutely right. These are your friends. They mean so much to you, and you’ve just realised that now. You’ll do anything for them.

You let your body relax, your eyes stare into Jill, then Ada, then back at Jill again. She caresses your cheeks in her palm, bringing your face closer to hers with lips that only want to close the distance, and you close your-

Wait! No. Stop this! This isn’t right!

-eyes, before your lips crash together in a series of tingles. Jill deepens the kiss, her tongue prying between the seams of your lips, meeting your own tongue in the middle. You still taste a bit of blood, but that doesn’t deter you from returning the kiss. Jill licks your lips once more before finally parting with a heaved gasp. You slowly open your eyes, before another pair of familiar lips comes colliding back on yours and you’re nudged to close them again. This is Ada’s lips, rounder, thicker, with an unexpected forwardness. She nibbles on your lips, demanding, making room between the gaps of your lips, and kiss you just as passionately as Jill did.

Between kisses, a button pops off. Then another. You help each other out of your fabrics. Earpieces removed, abandoned by the floor. Jill strips off Ada’s dress and bra, and you help Jill out of her skinny jeans. A paper scrunches up from her back pocket. It’s been torn by hand, scribbled a note on lined paper where the words are either smudged or peeled off. Only one word is still faintly visible.

[ WATER ]

What could it mean?

You spend no time to ponder with Jill pulling you back into the present. Your naked torsos flush against each other as the duo fight for another taste of your lips. They catch your breath, one after another, with no intention of letting you out of their sight. Jill brings her hand around you, her fingers are already sending-

I need to get out of here! I need to warn-

-a violent fizz through your body, and Ada helps you fall to your legs onto the velvet rug underneath you. All the whilst your lips are trapped in Jill’s, and so is your body.

“That’s it… Be our good little darling.” Ada slips right behind you, letting your relaxed body lean against her, then running a hand up your torso with the friction of her latex gloves, before settling against your neck in a firm grip.

“We’ll take care of you, kitty.” Jill whispers into your ear, and you can’t hear any malicious intent. Jill and Ada aren’t hurting you, some part of you is very sure about this.

Then you hear something. A faint sound in your mind, a warning, a scream from far away. It’s telling you to run, run so far and fast before it’s too late. “Nnh… I…” It rings in your ear like a constant drum, forcing you for a response. But why? You feel so good right now…

“Stay with us, darling.” Ada coos, moving downwards to kiss along the strip of your neck. She’s gentle, enchanting you in her lovingness. The voice grows fainter, like a distant chatter that fades into the background.

And their hands are all over you, exploring every curve your skin has to offer. The crook of your neck, the gentle folds between your belly, thighs filling out into their palms, plushness against plushness. With how both of their breasts lay against you, it reminds you of a marshmallow cloud, and you’re drifting away into it. Away from the mortal world where only the three of you remain.

Ada runs her hands down your body, her latex glove palming your cunt now, circling it fully and firmly. You feel everything move, your hips rutting to find more friction against your clit. And she retracts her hand, pressing down against your clit as if you hears your demands, holding you and your emotions hostage, before repeating all the motions again.

“Shh… We’ll take care of you, kitty.” Someone says this, you don’t know who. You are much too focused on the pleasure throbbing in your body to notice. Ada moves her head downwards to watch your cunt more closely, pleasant to see you already drenching, soon to succumb to the inflictions of her loving touches.

“Goodness, so wet for me, darling.” Ada rewards herself with a finger down the stripe of your cunt, scooping your juices with the latex and licking her finger clean. Ada is taking her time with you, pecking gentle kisses along the seam. A few times you feel the firm pad of her tongue on you, but she retracts it before you can truly react to it.

Jill is still kissing you; her hands are groping her own breasts to satisfy herself, while you lay limp under the command of the two. You moan back into the kiss, clearly aroused by Ada toying with your body underneath, and she grows increasingly jealous: “Having all the fun without me?” She abruptly parts your lips, and gently lowers your back onto the floor.

“Come on, kitty. Help me come too.” Jill pecks one final kiss on you, which you, too engrossed in the knot in your chest to struggle to even pucker your lips. She rounds her legs over your face, and your face is shaded with the shape of Jill’s cunt. Her arousal glistens in the darkness, seemingly twitch, maybe a bit vulnerable with how your eyes are fixed upon her aching parts.

“Put that tongue to good use, kitty.” Jill drops herself onto your face, fucking herself onto your nose. A moan escapes her lips, and yours too, your grunt muffled underneath the pressure, but she can still feel the vibrations through her cunt. She ruts against you, a signal for ‘more’, and you obey. You stick your tongue in, swirling and springing your tongue to feel Jill’s walls against the flat surface of your tongue.

Jill lifts herself temporarily, just enough for you to breathe and release the groaning mess that is trapped in the back of your throat. She slams herself back down onto you again. Your breath quickens, back arches in; you’re close. So fucking close. Ada isn’t stopping now, her lips are flushed against your cunt, extending her entire tongue inside of you to tonguefuck you until your heavy breathing is inside of Jill’s cunt.

“I.. nnh…fuck…” You cry, a tear gathering in your eye.

“Don’t be shy, kitty. Just let it all out.” Jill looks down at you, grinning, taunting. She drives her cunt deeper onto your face. And with her encouragement, you do. The sensation wells inside of you, stimulated on both end bringing your orgasm to escalate in speeds unimaginable. Your juices start to flow, without warning—you couldn’t control it even if you tried—and all your fluids spills directly onto Ada’s face, catching into her eyes.

“That’s it. Well done, kitty.” Jill praises, smoothing a hand over your hair.

Ada doesn’t wince from your juices in her eye, she doesn’t even feel the pain. Her irises are shifting red from her kind hazel brown. Her skin, paling, wherever she was applying pressure at you, those parts of her turns distinctly blue. And that’s when reality hits you: you don’t know them. But there’s no stopping now. It’s too late. At least you can make your death memorable—enjoyable—by getting fucked inside out.

Jill is feeling it too, her hips shaking, your tongue going into overtime eating her out, until she finally releases. She tries to lift herself off, but it was too late when Jill begins to squirt, her one finger guiding herself on her clit, drenching your face and some of your hair with her fluids. You wipe your face off with your hands, huffing and puffing. Whatever you two had, it was intense. Far more intense than any relationship you had with any other sex.

Ada lands right next to you on the rug. She’s reaching down to circle on her own clit and thrusting her fingers inside of her dripping mess at the same time. God, Ada looks so hot touching herself.

“Please. Ada. I want to taste you too.” You nudge Ada’s fingers out of herself, giving them a lick to clean those pretty, battered fingers off. Even damaged, her manicure is still perfect, and the skin still feels soft to the touch. You roll on top of Ada, exchanging places with Ada’s fingers to bottom her out.

Ada’s cunt is so smooth, cleaned and trimmed, just as put together as the rest of herself. Her hole is wide open, as if taunting you with how much she can take at one time. You hook her legs over your shoulder now, pressing them down closer to her body and reaching over to her swollen nipple to pull against it. When your fingers enter her, it’s like dipping your finger into melted butter. With one finger, it was loose. So you add one more finger, then another, until all four of your fingers are deep in her cunt.

“God, Ada.” You swallow back a heavy drool. “You’re all stretched out.”

“I have higher pain tolerance like this. That’s the best part about being a zombie.”

“Does that mean I can…” You thought four fingers was Ada’s limit, but after wiggling your hand around, you manage to slip the fifth finger inside. Ada lets out a delighted whine, swallowing your entire fist with a quick rut of her hips.

My god, Ada looks so beautiful like this. With how big she’s taking in, you swear that she’s more used to this than she’s letting on. But you don’t get to ponder long, because Jill is right behind you. She’s watching over you, grabbing your cheeks from behind and something is nudging between your thighs.

“I want to try something on you.” There is a belt around her, and a strap bouncing high and proud into the air. “Stick up your butt for me, kitty.”

The idea of getting fucked by Jill excites you very much. You perk them up, despite your eagerness, you don’t want to lose momentum with Ada in front of you, still squirming under your control. You expect your cunt to meet with Jill’s silicone tip, but instead she puts some kind of device inside of you. It vibrates in the lowest setting, only a tingle of sensation in your already aching and throbbing pussy.

“J-Jill?” You let out a low grunt, unsatisfied. The device is so small, you still feel empty even as it vibrates within you.

“Don’t worry, kitty. I’m just gonna write some thing on your body. It won’t hurt, I promise.” She picks up a knife, previously abandoned in the corner. She runs the sharp end of the knife along your ass cheeks, and you wince as Jill drags the knife down until it carves off a letter. ‘J’ on your left cheek, ‘A’ on your right cheek.

“Kitty looks amazing with our initials on it.” Blood is trailing along your butt. Jill lied. It hurts a lot. But the combination of pain on your skin and pleasure of the vibrator takes you to your wits end. Jill makes up for it by consoling the cuts, planting kisses and licking the blood off your cheeks. Then she grasps harshly onto the plush meat, and the pain is back again.

“Kitty…” She coos, fingering out some of your stickiness to lubricate the silicone. It lines up against you, ready for entry. You take in a deep breath, and Jill shoves all of her length in one go. Your body flinches, tongue stopping for a moment to recollect your composure as your internal walls fight to wrap both the vibrator and Jill’s strap at the same time, filling you up so fully.

“That’s it, kitty. Take in both me and the vibrator. Feel so good right now… So good for us.”

But she’s not stopping. Not intending to stop until you come over and over again, until you stain the rug with every bit of your juices. Moans ripple through the room. Each thrust heavy and welcoming to your pussy as you stretch wide to accommodate to this newfound size. You chase your euphoria, as it crash at you wave after wave of limitless pleasure. Jill tips you further into overstimulation, fucking the fluids of your orgasm back inside of you.

But you can’t speak, despite the desire to release your choked out breath, you are determined to make Ada come too. She’s close. You press her legs further down to flex her into a pretzel, her thighs touch her head, and your fist finds its easier to reach her cervix, abusing at her favourite spot over and over again until she’s bound to release her fluids onto your hand.

“You’re mine now…” Jill and Ada speaks almost simultaneously.

And the rest of the night was a blur. You aren’t sure how many times you came tonight, you only feel the aftermath of it. The inside of your walls are sore, penetrated repeatedly by tongue and silicone, and you find your consciousness fading… and fading… until you are gone completely.

A buzz. It rings in your ear like a fly in your sleep. Is this your alarm? No… Did you not leave for Arias’ mansion? How long ago was that? Why are you asleep? And where’s Jill and Ada?

You are alone. The portraits watching your naked body as you lie—criticising you? You hear the windows clacking against the hinges, night air whining inside and all over your bareness. But you don’t feel cold. Your body hasn’t felt anything in a while. Joints weakened everywhere and your lips feel like something dried over.

You hear the buzz again. This time much closer. There’s static. It’s saying something.

“Ji- Ad-”

You move your limbs, cumbersome from the soreness of your muscles, to reach to the sound underneath your clothes. An earpiece. You fumble it on.

“Jill! Ada! Are you guys there? Come on, why won’t this damn thing work?”

It’s Rebecca. You know this girl. From somewhere. It’s getting harder to think.

“Reb—” You try to talk, but it escapes like the low grumble of a zombie. You don’t have much time left.

“Finally! Thank god it’s you! Are you guys safe?”

“Water... It’s the water… The water’s infected…” You muster whatever bit of strength left to talk.

“Hello?? Shit. I can’t hear you… What did you say about the water?”

Your eyes feel heavy. It sinks without intention. All that remains is a fragile pulse at the hearth of your body. Not enough for you to move or think. Darkness envelops you, and there is silence once again in Arias’ office.

Then, a man steps into the room.

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. —yours truly, rose. kissing @scar-crossedlvrs and @obsolescent for beta reading this!!!! tags: @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted @daydreamrot @madcap-riflette @access--granted @obsolescent @briermelli @secretiveauthor @ghosty-frog @navstuffs @slowcryinginthedark @rentaldarling @lesbntired @redvleanli @vinsiliors @whoisgami @gaylorvader @wxwieeee @eddsthemunson © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

[yazmarina]

super trouper

for hit play, a drabble event.

—"part of a success that never ends, still i'm thinking about you only " (super trouper by abba)

charles leclerc (f1) x afab!reader

warnings/notes: exes to ?, hint of second chance romance

a/n: short and sweet on my return. i hope all the charles girlies and non-girlies like this <3

You really shouldn't be here. You had no reason to turn up at this race weekend, save for the fact that your friend was also going and she urged you to go for her sake.

Right. You're doing this for her. No one else. Certainly not for the hometown hero.

His face is everywhere and so are the eyes that seem to gape at you. People's eyes follow you with curiosity, double takes and soft gasps when they realize who you are.

It takes all your self-control not to roll your eyes under the heat of their stares. Are they not aware that I live literally a bus ride away? I spend half of my time in Monaco, anyway. Why is everyone freaked out that I'm here?

You can already read the gossip headlines in your mind.

"Do you want to grab some lunch first?" Your friend asks, gesturing to the huge hospitality building that overlooked the pitlane.

You nod, wanting nothing more than to be indoors and away from prying eyes. "Sure."

The two of you make your way inside and you're relieved to see that people are sparse here, not a single one of them giving you any mind. You settle in a booth at the very end of the floor, letting your friend have a go first at the buffet of food laid out.

You idle with your phone for a bit, already seeing your inbox count tick upward. You've been here for an hour and it seems as if the whole paddock has already seen you.

You lock your phone in frustration.

You really shouldn't have come. Not when the breakup barely six months ago was shrouded in so much speculation and drama. It's not as if your relationship with Charles exploded into a world-stopping mess. It just slowly but surely crumbled, all the gossip chipping away at the love you once shared. You know all this was part of it—the dedicated pages to scrutinizing you, your looks, your behavior, the news about you and your ex still coming out half a year after you split, the constant barrage of questions about Charles, Charles, always about Charles.

But it was indeed always about Charles.

Even you being here, in Monte Carlo today, was about him.

You promised you'd see him race at home when you were still together. It wasn't your fault the relationship would be that short-lived.

But, still. You promised.

You unlock your phone once more, opening up the message thread you had with Charles. The last text was from him, asking if you'd be in France this week. You never answered back.

'Hi Charles.'

You cringe at the formality but with a deep breath, you continue to type.

'Yes, I'm still here. I'll be watching today with a friend. Wishing you all the luck :)'

-

The grip you had on your seat could have been enough to crush someone's hand.

The wide-screen TV in hospitality flashed the bright red Ferrari of your ex-boyfriend, leading the race, five laps away from victory. A victory at his home race, with his dream team, his people cheering him on.

Your heart hammers against your chest and you feel rigid all over, nerves and anticipation taking ahold of you. Your friend looks over and you meet her eyes, and you know at that moment what she's thinking. She smiles, reaching for your hand, and squeezes.

Regardless of what became of you and Charles, it's hard not to feel as if this was your dream too. All the late nights and missed dates and the pain and scrutiny were for this. For him to achieve this very dream.

You feel tears start to well in your eyes as Charles enters his final lap. The people around you are already jumping out of their seats, egging him on, closer and closer to the chequered flag.

As Charles drives past the finish line, the whole world seems to erupt in cheers but it's all tuned out as your tears start to finally fall. You don't notice the gentle shake of your shoulders as hundreds of emotions crash down on you.

You let your friend pull you into a hug, hiding your tear-streaked face from the world.

The podium celebrations right after didn't help much with your attempt at keeping a casual, level-headed facade. Your nose is stuffy and you haven't stopped crying since the race ended. The slow recognition from the people around you isn't lost on you, either.

But it's hard to care when Charles stands on the top step of the podium, beaming as his national anthem blares. It's more difficult yet, fighting the urge to run to wherever he is just so you could jump into his arms and tell him how proud of him you are, how much you miss him, how much you still love him.

Instead, you turn to your friend, hicupping through your tears as you ask if they can come with you back to the paddock.

-

"You're here."

You smile sheepishly as Charles stops just as he's about to enter the Ferrari motorhome. The calls of his name and murmur from the fans around you tailing him through the paddock are drowned out, your whole body seemingly rooted in place as the familiar green eyes look into yours.

"Yes," you respond plainly, suddenly at a loss for words. Clearing your throat, you step closer and Charles automatically opens his arms for a hug.

"Congratulations, Cha," you say, voice muffled into his shoulder as he pulls you against his chest.

"Thank you." Charles beams at you as he pulls away. The smell of champagne is still strong on him but you pay it no mind, wanting nothing more than for everyone to disappear so you could share even a fraction of a moment with him. Just him.

"Did you cry, mon cœur?" Charles asks, looking at you closely. Your jaw drops open at his use of your old pet name and he, too, pauses and blinks as he realizes what he's done.

Charles laughs, a hint of nervousness in his voice, and you can't help but giggle along. It's awkward and it's not ideal, but being this close to him brings a certain ache in your heart, more sweet than painful.

"I'll see you later, okay?" Charles declares, gently taking hold of your arm. "Promise. I'll see you."

You nod, smiling up at him. Tears prickle in your eyes again and you quickly blink them away, mortified at what everyone would think about you crying in front of your ex after his home race win.

Charles leans in and delivers a peck on your cheek, quickly rubbing your back before turning to finally enter the motorhome. He gives you one last wave before disappearing behind the glass doors.

[thankyouivy]

BRO UR LATEST REID FIC WAS AMAZING, you have to write a second part where the team confront/tease Reid for forgetting to hang up his phone 🙏

THANK YOU!!! :]

i’m mixing this with another request I got for the morning after slick tongue.

I hope this is what you were looking for, ngl this was a challenge, which is why it took so long! (also my computer may have broken mid way through writing this so I finished it on my phone which means this is NOT properly proofread or edited OOPS)

ENJOY MY POOKIES <3

warnings: fluff with a bit of suggestiveness but nothing explicit.

———

Sore - Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Morning comes way faster than Spencer hoped it would.

His alarm goes off at 6am, the one he sets for when he's at home with you, that’s quiet enough so it won’t wake you up, but he can still hear it. He reaches over and turns it off, eyes adjusting to the dark room and then turns and gazes at you, still sleeping peacefully.

Your head is rested on his shoulder, nose buried in his neck, and one leg hitched over both of his. You’re practically laying on top of him, getting as close as humanly possible. He smiles lovingly at you and places a delicate kiss on your cheek before carefully slipping his arm out from under you and scooting off the bed, a skill he has picked up since you started dating. He makes his way to the bathroom to shower and get ready, keeping the bedroom lights off to let you continue sleeping.

You are awoken from your sex-induced slumber by the sounds of the morning; your shower running, the morning doves singing outside, anddddd…. Spencer’s phone ringing. You lean over and grab it, checking the number and rubbing your eyes before answering.

“Hey, Penny,” You greet mid-yawn. “Oh my god! Did I wake you up? I'm so sorry! Where's Reid?” She asks quickly. you have a hard time understanding everything she’s saying, and you can tell she’s probably already had her morning coffee… or two.

“It’s alright! I was totally already awake. Spencer’s in the shower, he’ll be at the office in no time im sure.” You answer, sleep still apparent in your voice, with a hint of scratchiness from the strain Spencer caused to your vocal cords last night.

Penelope is saying something, but instead your mind floats to last night's events. You rub your hand over your neck and feel the slight soreness of bruises and the delicate ache in your core burns when you think about last night.

“Sorry - what?” You zone back in, squinting your eyes at the bright iphone screen in the dark room. “I know you got attended to last night, but you don’t have to keep rubbing it in our faces!” She teases and you feel your face heat up as you giggle at her.

You chat with Garcia for a minute before you hear the shower turn off and you suddenly remember why you're on the phone with her at 6 in the morning. “Sorry- what did you need me to tell Spencer?” you say, sitting up in bed.

“Oh yeah, your relationship is like my reality tv and we will be chatting more about your scandalous escapades later. But for now, can you tell him Hotch needs the final witness statements from the last case read over?” Garica answers. That entire sentence sounds like complete FBI gibberish but you get the general idea and promise to relay the info to Spencer before he leaves, and Garcia hangs up with a “Thanks, doll!”

The door to the bathroom opens and Spencer steps out with his toothbrush in his mouth. The light from the bathroom bleeds into the dark bedroom and it makes him look like a God. His hair is damp and messy, he's wearing a towel around his waist, his hips bones and happy trail completely on display. The light from behind him shows off his lightly defined muscles, lean body, and sharp jaw, and you feel yourself going bright red.

“Sorry, sugar, did I wake you up?” He says when he notices you’re sitting up in bed, taking his toothbrush out of his mouth. “No actually, it was Penelope.”

You smile as he walks over to your closet and starts picking up clothes. “What? Garcia called you?” He walks back to the bathroom with his clothes with him to finish brushing his teeth. “No, she called you. Told me to tell you that Hotch needs you to read the witness something-or-other?” You say, slipping out of bed and stretching your arms above your head. “Witness statements?” He asks, smiling at you through the door. “That’s it.”

You know you probably won't be able to fall asleep again after Spencer leaves, so you head to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee after brushing your teeth. Spencer joins you in the kitchen about 10 minutes later, fumbling with his tie. You pass him your cup of coffee and take over, tying it neatly and adjusting his shirt collar as he takes a sip.

He places a kiss on your lips, holding your jaw to tilt your head up with his hand. “Want some breakfast?” you hum happily, arms wrapping around his neck. “Mhmm… maybe not the kind you’re thinking of, though.” He smirks, grabbing your waist to pull you closer and leaning down to kiss you again as you giggle.

“Tempting… but if you show up late again people are going to get suspicious. Plus, I’m still recovering from last night.” You mumble, grinning at him when he goans like a child being denied candy, and just continues kissing you.

When you feel his tongue slide against your bottom lip and attempt to lick into your mouth, you pull away. “Mmmm, Spencer…you need to go…gonna be late…” you say in between pecks. He places one final kiss on your lips before grabbing his stuff and heading out the door with a quick “Bye, baby, have a good day, love you!”

There is something off about the team today.

Spencer can tell.

When he gets to the office, Morgan and Garica spot him immediately. Morgan has that proud-big-brother expression on his face, and pats Spencer on the back before plopping down in his chair, and Garica can’t keep that mischievous look off her face as she seats herself on a spare chair at Derek’s desk.

Spencer gives the pair a confused look, only for Morgan to chuckle at him. “So, nice time last night, Reid?” Morgan smirks.

“Yes, actually, how was the bar?” Spencer responds, confused by the pair’s strange mood, but still engaging in the usual morning small talk while reading over the witness statements like Hotch asked.

“It was fine, I’m sure your night was more eventful than ours, though,” Morgan and Garcia giggle at each other.

Spencer is sure he has never been more confused in his life, but passes it off as the pairs regular unusual banter.

Before he can ask what’s going on, JJ and Emily walk over with coffee, joining the group at their own respective desks.

“How was your night, Spencer?” Emily snickers into her coffee as JJ kicks her leg under her desk and covers her mouth with her hand in an attempt to hide her own smile.

“I- it was fine?” Spencer answers again.

“Just fine?” Another voice asks, as Rossi joins them, knowing smile on his face.

“Okay, enough, will someone please tell me what is going on? is there some new inside joke I missed?” Spencer breaks, the weirdness of the situation overriding his ability to multitask.

“Yes, my night was fine. It was normal, why are you all suddenly interested in what I do when I'm not at work?” Spencer squints inquisitively at them.

“Normal, huh?” JJ giggles, eyeing the rest of the girls, who join in. Spencer gives them a look, bringing a hand up to his face to massage his jaw.

“Something wrong with your jaw, Reid?” Rossi asks with a smirk on his face, and the entire group breaks into a fit of snickers.

“Yeah, it’s just a little sore from- wait.” He pauses, to look around at his friends. “What do you know and how do you know it?” Spencer asks, suspicion evident on his face when the snickers don’t stop.

“Listen, we all can’t be as tech-savvy as me!” Garica grins, and suddenly Spencer remembers. The expression that flashes across his face can only be described as pure terror as he whips out his phone and checks his call history.

Penelope Garica [BAU]

Mobile phone - 2014/01/19

Call Length: 27:34

“Shit.”

Spencer glows bright red as the realization hits him like a truck, the laughs from the team getting impossibly louder as he hides his face in his hands.

More of my stuff can be found here.

~Ivy 🪴

[meazalykov]

renewal

sydney lohmann x bayern!reader

summary: the latest transfer window was scary for you and your girlfriend

you’re one of the best, if not the best, attacking midfielders for bayern munich. one of the highest valued players in the women's bundesliga, for a player that isn’t german herself. your skills and loyalty for the badge have made you a valuable asset to bayern, but your contract is set to expire in 2024. 

the online rumor, started thanks to soccerdonna, has been buzzing with speculation about your next move—at first some said that you're transferring to lyon in france, while others think you might return to your home in the united states to play for the portland thorns. 

the rumors have caused quite a stir, especially for your girlfriend, sydney, a midfielder who plays for bayern.

after you started at bayern in 2020, sydney and you were friends. not long after, she confessed her feelings for you and you guys have managed to maintain a strong relationship throughout the next three years, making it a point to spend a lot of time together.

 

however, the recent speculation about your future has made sydney anxious. 

little do you know, sydney is going to renew her contract for bayern. you kind of suspected it, sydney is in love with bayern and would never leave anytime soon. 

little did sydney know, bayern is pleased with your performance and eager to extend your contract until 2026, a detail you're not yet allowed to disclose publicly.

during an interview after the game between bayern and freiburg, where you managed to score a goal and two assists, you were asked about your recent rumors. you should’ve known that the elephant in the room needed to be addressed. 

"y/n, there's been a lot of speculation about your future in the last few weeks. can you shed any light on the rumors linking you to lyon or a return to the NWSL with the portland thorns?"

you smile politely, moving your cross your arms as you think about the words you have to say next, 

"well, you know how rumors can be," you begin, trying to keep your tone light. "right now, i’m fully focused on bayern and finishing the season strong with my team. it's been a great journey here, i’m very very happy with this club and i'm committed to giving my best."

the blonde interviewer nods, pressing on gently. "but with your contract expiring in 2024, fans are eager to know if you've made any decisions about your future. can you give us any hints?"

you chuckle softly, as your fingers tangle onto the red zipper on your puffer jacket. the media rooms were a little cold considering you’d played a full 90 minute match. 

"i understand the curiosity, but at this point, there's nothing official to announce. bayern has been a fantastic place for me, and i'm really happy here. when the time comes for an announcement, you'll all be the first to know.”

there were rumors about sydney going to the wsl or the nwsl. you knew you shouldn’t believe them, but transfer windows can shock anyone. sydney was outspoken about “not being afraid to live in new places” too. 

during the days where you guys have the day off to spend with each other— you can feel the tension between you both grow as the rumors persist. 

sitting on the couch in your munich apartment, sydney stared at you intensely as she stood by the couch. she watched your fingers flick on the remote, while your eyes watched the TV flickering in the background with a rerun of your favorite netflix show. you know she's staring at you, but she had a tendency to do that a lot. 

"baby, i need to ask you something," she says, her voice hesitant. you look up at her with worried eyes as she moved to sit beside you on the couch, only giving an inch of space. that was too far for you, though. 

your eyebrows knitted together in curiosity, your look gave her the silent permission to continue with her question. 

"are you really moving back to the states to play with portland?"

you fully turn your body to her, ignoring the tv, and you see the worry in her eyes. before moving to munich in 2020, you played in the nwsl in your home country. starting off with the washington spirit straight out of high school before playing in the 2019 world cup, winning it all at just 17. 

eventually, you moved to orlando pride before wanting to have a full change. you knew that a different league would be the best for your growth.

many european clubs were on your doorstep, wanting to send you offers due to how natural you were with the ball. you chose bayern and have been loyal to the club ever since. 

your heart aches knowing how much the uncertainty has been affecting sydney. one thing you couldn’t stand was seeing your happy and silly girl so upset. 

at this point, you’ve already signed the renewal with bayern, it wouldn’t hurt telling your girlfriend about the news.  

"no, sweet pea," you say gently, taking her hands in yours. "bayern is happy with me and i’m happy with bayern so i'm renewing my contract with bayern until 2026. i’m sorry for not telling you before, i just couldn't say anything until it actually happened."

sydney's eyes widen in surprise before a wave of relief washes over her face. she wraps her strong arms around your shoulders as you, naturally, place your hand on her right knee. 

"you're staying?" she whispers, almost in disbelief. the rumors scared her recently and it was clear. the german girl loves you so much.

you nod, smiling softly. "yes, i'm staying. i love it here in germany, and i love being with you. I can’t leave, this is my home."

tears of happiness well up in sydney's eyes as she pulls you into a tighter embrace, moving your body so you’re sitting on her lap instead. she holds your lower waist as you bury your head into her neck. "you don’t understand how relieved i am," she says, her voice muffled against your shoulder. "i've been so worried."

you hold her tightly, grateful that feeling the tension between you both is gone. "i know, syd. it's been hard not being able to tell you."

syd pulls your body back slightly, looking up into your eyes as her hands move to sit on your thighs. "well, i have something to tell you too," she says, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“what is it?” you say with a surprised look on your face. you hoped it was good news, but due to the look on syd’s face, you can tell it was.

"the rumors about me staying at bayern are true. i wanted to surprise you later but the rumors are starting to get a little crazier."

your heart skips a beat. "you’re staying?" you ask your lover, hardly daring to believe it. especially since you thought sydney wanted a change away from her home. 

she nods, her smile widening. "yes, i wanted to stay close to you and stay in germany. i wouldn't stand the thought of us being apart for so long."

you both laugh, the joy of the moment overwhelming. "this is amazing," you say, kissing her forehead softly.

“i love you.” 

“Ich liebe dich mehr.”

<3