#time travel car movie tag

[pinwheel-plant]

au where everything is the same except the timeline’s been shifted forward by 70 years

or, marty’s from 2055 and things are A Little Bit Silly

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐨

18+ MINORS DNI

a/n: listened to juno in the car and had this idea 😋

summary: based on the song by sabrina carpenter (you babytrap nat); g!p nat, college!au, natasha's kind of a fuckboy

warnings: contains quite a bit of smut (hence the 18+ tag), babytrapping (= mildly toxic relationship?), buff athlete nat because that’s a warning in itself

word count: 11k (i fear it’s gotten impossible for me to write anything under 5k words lol)

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Initiating public sex in front of your friends should never be a good idea.

When you're as bored as you are right now, though, that opinion quickly begins to waver.

Hand under your shirt, your head on her shoulder. The movie you're watching is one you haven't seen before. Teen pregnancy, Michael Cera, indie soundtracks, yawn. You sigh, first quietly, then a little louder.

Natasha's nose brushes against your temple. Her hand travels higher up, fingers grazing your bra.

"Not a fan?", she mumbles. You lean into her, feeling her bicep against your shoulder. "We can ditch them."

"No." It's been a while since you last had time to spend with your friends. It's also been a while since you didn't sneak off early to fuck each other brainless. "Let's stay", you say, turning your head. "At least so we can see whether they actually fall for each other."

"No offense, but who would fall for that guy? Even I would look better in those shorts."

"Don't disrespect Michael", you mumble, smiling. "Also, you'd need bigger ones to fit everything, babe."

In front of you, Clint rolls his eyes. He lets out the longest sigh known to man and turns his head, his expression lacking any amusement whatsoever. He should be used to this kind of behavior, but to be fair, he just wants one night where your shameless PDA doesn't ruin everything.

"Alright", he says. "One more comment like that and-"

"God, you're a prude." She throws her empty red solo cup at him and he jumps up. "Chill."

He directs one last warning glare at you both, then he plops back down onto the floor. As soon as he's distracted again — drinking beer, talking to his girlfriend — she pulls you closer. Your hand finds her lower stomach, gently pressing against it.

Her breath hits your ear when she exhales, hot and slow. Your hand moves a little lower. Not too far, just enough to flirt with the limit. Her fingers curl into the soft skin of your stomach.

She doesn't say anything, though. Your fingertips dance over the fabric of her sweatpants. They graze the bulge there, prominent even when she's not hard, before finally cupping it. A sharp breath escapes her.

Still, she doesn't stop you. Her eyes stay glued to the screen, where Juno is currently giving birth. The way she's staring makes it seem like she's actually invested in what's happening, but you know the truth. One wrong move, and she'll either embarrass herself — or ruin her pants.

Or both. Most likely both.

You already look irresistible enough, wearing that sinfully short skirt. With your legs tucked under your butt and your vanilla perfume clouding her senses, your hand on her cock can only lead to a disaster.

"Y/N", she whispers through gritted teeth. You palm her crotch and feel her harden.

"Mhm?" You lean in and press your lips to her jaw. Red lipstick stains her skin. It's a sight so satisfying that you keep trailing kisses across her cheek.

Natasha closes her eyes. A noise, muffled and quiet, gets stuck in her throat. You scoff and move your hand to wrap your fingers around her length, only the fabric of her clothes separating you.

"What is it?", you ask, giving a few testing strokes. She shakes her head and you finally hear that soft whimper you'd been waiting for. "Aw, poor baby. All worked up."

In front of you, Steve mumbles something. He gets up, but before he can turn around and catch Natasha and you in this compromising situation, you move and quickly sit on her lap.

Bad idea. This might be worse than the almost-handjob you were about to give her.

Steve doesn't notice anything, but you do. Her head falls forward to lean against your shoulder, her hands grip your waist. You shift and grind against her boner, feeling her tip rub against the wet patch on your panties. At least your skirt hides everything.

You rub against her with more insistence, eyes closing. Her cock, though still clothed, fits perfectly between your folds. If you try hard enough, you can pretend she's inside of you.

"Fuck", she moans. You reach behind you to squeeze her, squeeze any part of her you can reach. "Fuck, I'll come."

Clint pauses, then slowly turns his head. You go completely still, eyes fixed on the tv and your hands folded in your lap. He knows you better than to believe this little act you're putting on, though.

You're surprised he doesn't drag you out by your collars, but you get sent back to your dorms anyway.

"Idiot", you say, grabbing the front of her letter jacket. You pull her into a deep kiss, her hands roaming your body. Salt and butter, sugar and green apple. The snacks of the evening created an addictive taste, and you silently thank Clint for not getting garlic knots again.

"You started it", she pants, trailing her lips down your neck. Your back hits the wall of the dormitory, her hard-on pressing against your hip. Her hand disappears under your skirt and palms your crotch, feeling the soaked fabric of your panties. You're dripping down your thighs. "And I'll end it. Fuck."

You moan, the sound a little too obvious. It's quiet outside, apart from the occasional hum of car engines in the distance. Due to it being a Tuesday night, there are no parties. Most people are either in their dorms or pulling an all-nighter in the library. If anyone's got their window open, they'll hear you.

Natasha sinks her teeth into your shoulder. You cry out, a little louder, and she shushes you by nudging your panties aside with her fingers.

"Quiet", she mumbles, voice gentle like a praise. "Quiet for me, baby."

You writhe when she pushes two fingers into you. They slip in easily, your folds slick with wet heat, and immediately begin thrusting into you. You buck your hips to meet her movements, but she pulls out before you can even get started.

"Hey", you protest, ignoring the fact that she's already got her arm wrapped around you. Fingers in her mouth to lick off excess moisture, she pulls you toward the entrance. "Nat, I'm horny."

"Where's your roommate again?"

"Huh?" You frown, then lightly slap her chest. "Right! Good call."

She laughs quietly, the sound rough and strained, and walks up the stairs. Her hand moves to dip under your skirt. She gropes your ass, kneading the flesh. "I seriously don't know how you got into college, baby."

"Wow. Here I was, considering head tonight, and you made me change my mind."

"Oh, please." She pushes open the door and walks you to the bed. As soon as she's seated, you straddle her and wrap your arms around her neck. Her hands are under your shirt before you can even kiss her. Her tongue brushes against the seam of your lips and you open your mouth.

You grind against her boner, which only makes the ache between your legs worse. Natasha breaks the kiss to tug off your top. Her eyes dart a little lower, zeroing in on your chest. Full breasts, spilling out of a lacy bra with tiny hearts embroidered in it.

Her face sinks to bury itself between your boobs. You feel wet kisses on your skin.

"Taste so good."

"Nat."

"So soft."

"Nat."

She huffs, but doesn't look up. Her hands move your hips, making you rub against her cock. The crotch of her sweatpants is stained with a little wet patch. "What?"

"I want you to fuck me, not make out with my breasts all night long."

You feel the heat of her cheeks. Smirking faintly, you run your hand into her hair.

"Screw you."

"I'm trying." You twist a strand of her hair around your finger and tug. "Come on. I thought of a new position we could try."

That manages to make her look up, though she seems skeptic. It's almost like a game you've been playing — who can come up with the wildest position? Anything counts, as long as it leads to at least one of you having an orgasm.

"You better not disappoint this time", she says and kisses your jaw. Her hands splay out on your ass, fingertips brushing under the fabric of your panties. "That last one was a letdown."

You hum. You have to agree with her here — sidesaddle riding doesn't work no matter how you interpret it, apparently.

"This one's good", you say, getting off her lap. She groans.

"We could pause the game", she pleads, making puppy dog eyes at you. It's a fun game, sure, but sometimes, she wants to see your face while she fucks you. "Just tonight."

You tilt your head at her, eyebrows raised in silent approval for her to keep going.

"I'll let you top", Natasha adds. That's enough for you to be sold.

. . .

When you wake up, it's because of someone knocking on the door.

At first, you don't notice it. Too tight is sleep's grip on you, too warm is your bed. You're curled into Natasha, her arms wrapped around you and holding you close. But then they knock again, more insistently this time, and you sigh.

You squint to block out the sun and get up, stepping over the empty ramen cups you discarded on the floor after a late-night craving. Behind you, Natasha mutters something and rolls over. You slip into a loose shirt and open the door.

Randy, your resident advisor, pauses when he sees you. Messy hair, a thin shirt that barely reaches your thighs, your neck littered with marks. You raise your eyebrows at him.

"Yes?", you drawl. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. His freckled face flushes pink and he coughs. "Come on, I don't have all morning."

"There, uhm- there was a noise complaint", he says, fingers drumming against the clipboard he for some reason always carries around. "From one of the other students."

You give him a blank stare. "Okay?"

"No, not okay. Look, I don't care what you do in your free time, but maybe keep it down? The walls are quite thin, and the excessive noise, uh..." He sighs, eyes flitting down your body again. He shifts awkwardly, clipboard angled a bit, and you realize that he's trying to conceal a certain problem he's run into.

If the situation was different, you'd be irritated. But watching Randy, the 30-something guy who started working here two years ago, stumble over his own words and stutter like a nervous first grader, is too amusing to genuinely get pissed.

You lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Deep breaths, honey. Don't faint on me."

He tries to glare at you, but fails miserably. "Y/N, I'm being serious. Others want to sleep."

"Yeah, yeah." You wave your hand dismissively. "I'll tell Nat."

Behind you, Natasha groans into your pillow. "Tell them to mind their own business", she mutters, voice rough with sleep. "Or move the fuck out."

He briefly peeks into the room, then directs his attention toward you again. You give him a challenging look.

"Nat", he repeats. The way he says her name does manage to irritate you now. You know what others think of her. You also know they're not entirely wrong. "Oh, yeah, fine. Good."

"Good", you repeat, stepping back with one hand on the doorknob. "Oh, and Randy? I know you've been getting, like, zero action lately, but I just woke up. Not even you can be that desperate. Maybe touch some grass?"

He lets out a choked sound. Before he can say anything, you wave two fingers at him and close the door.

"Buh-bye!", you call, just before the door snaps in. You twirl around and spot Natasha, still half asleep and sprawled out on your bed. Her red hair is loose for once, messy and soft, and you ignore the urge to get back into bed with her.

She hums, stretching like a cat, all lazy smiles and toned arms. An admittedly enticing sight. "Got rid of him?"

"Oh yeah." You run your hand along her arm. "I kinda feel bad for the guy."

"Don't. He's a creep." She puts her hand on the back of your thigh, tugging on it. If you didn't know better, you'd think she's scared you'll just slip away. "Feel bad for me. The abandoned girlfriend."

You huff, not budging. You'd love to go back to bed, but you have other things to do.

"Classes", you remind her, turning away. You take off your shirt and she groans. "Shower, too." Your panties follow. This time, she lets out a full blown moan.

You turn around and give her an unimpressed (albeit slightly amused) look. "And that is why we got a noise complaint."

"Come on", she whines. "Not even professors like their own classes. You can afford ten more minutes, baby. I won't even make you put on your clothes again."

"You say that like it's supposed to benefit me."

"It benefits both of us." Natasha grunts and finally sits up, slouching. Her arms are crossed over her lap as her eyes travel up and down your body. It takes you a second to realize why.

She tilts her head, cheeks pink. The expression on her face is both guilty and hopeful, like she's weighing her odds. A productive day or a few more minutes — maybe hours, if she plays her cards right — in bed with her?

Her chances aren't looking too bad.

"You can't be serious", you deadpan. Of course, she is.

"I'll be quick."

"You're never quick!"

"You can't blame me for that", she retorts. "God, how am I supposed to keep my hands off you for the next few hours?"

"Next few 'hours'? Babe, you have practice today. Plus, I wanted to go shopping."

Natasha flops onto her back dramatically. It gives you a full view of her body, head to toe, with her not-so-little problem included. You bite the inside of your cheek frustratedly as you realize she's chipping away at your resolve.

"Practice isn't that important", she mutters, her forearms covering her eyes.

"Babe, you're team captain", you say, turning around. Focus on something else, anything else. If you cave, you will definitely be late. Or, worst case scenario, you won't leave your dorm before lunchtime — again. "Just...take a cold shower. I'll see you tonight."

She mutters something about 'showers being a scam' under her breath, then finally gets up. You watch her gather her stuff and get dressed, but you keep her letter jacket clutched to your chest. She raises her eyebrows and reaches out her hand.

"No."

"That's mine."

"Nope."

Natasha rolls her eyes, but ultimately just kisses you before slipping into her shoes. She can't help it — she's weak for you.

"I'll get you back for this", she says, then the door falls shut behind her.

. . .

The basketball circles the hoop once, twice, leaving everyone on the edge of their seats.

One leg crossed over the other, you lean forward. Red lips part slightly, manicured nails dig into the thin skin of your knee. All eyes are on the ball, which wobbles — but then it slips off and bounces away. You groan and toss your head back.

"Come on, Romanoff!", someone next to you shouts.

"Damn it", you curse. You go to her games all the time, and usually, you enjoy it. Watching her miss a shot, however, is not the most pleasant part of the experience.

Natasha runs her hand over her hair, clearly frustrated. She's been off her shooting game today, and she doesn't know why. She's not doing anything different.

You watch her trail backwards, bouncing on her heels and her eyes locked on the hoop. When she hears her team's complaints, she turns around. She yells at a teammate, then at a player from the opposite team, before the coach calls for a timeout.

She jogs to the bench, snatches her water bottle, and tips her head back to take a swig. Baby hairs stick to her sweaty temples, the veins on her arms popping. You lean forward.

"Nat!"

She looks up, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched. Then she realizes it's you and, just like that, her scowl softens. She glances at her team to check if anyone's watching her before approaching you. You're in the first row, right next to the home team's bench, so all she has to do is lean on the barrier separating the seats from the court.

"Hey", she says.

"'Hey'? Are you kidding me? What the hell was up with that shot?"

Natasha frowns and huffs. "Alright, I don't need a lecture right now. So unless you want to kiss me for good luck-"

A girl from her team — one you don't know too well — nudges her. Natasha barely glances at her, but it's enough for you to lean forward and tug at her ear.

"What the fuck!"

"I'm serious! You missed by, like, half a mile."

The glare she gives you is deadly, but you deserve it. You are being a little unfair. For good reason, though: whenever you're there to berate her, she suddenly starts playing much better. It's like magic. She needs a healthy dose of bullying from you for her performance to be at its peak.

"Alright", she snaps. "Be my guest. Suit up and try, if you think you'll do better."

"Oh, no." You reach up and brush your fingers along her jaw before resting them under her chin. "You're the best, aren't you? So show me that's true, and I'll reward you. But losers don't get a reward."

"You drive a hard bargain", she mutters. You smile innocently and tap her bottom lip. "Fine. Fine, I'll...do better, I guess."

"That's my girl", you purr and, with a light push against her mouth, send her back to her team.

The game continues.

Before halftime, Natasha's team was trailing 34-37, but after some strong defense and a layup, the score is tied again. That is, until the opposing team hits a couple of shots.

You're agitated, but confident. At least you're pretty sure you are.

Most of her games are like this. Her team needs to be slightly behind for her to be able to give it her all. You convince yourself it won't be different this time, either.

Eyes zeroed in on Natasha, you watch her every move. How she dribbles the ball, weaves through the defenders, loses the ball again. The game is a close one. They're playing against one of the better teams this time, and it shows.

It's a back and forth between the teams. The opposing team gets a small lead, which is quickly lost thanks to another shot. During the last minute, they're tied again. Teams are trading baskets, but you don't know whether you should stay positive.

For a while, it looks bad. Time is running out. Then, in a split second, Natasha is open at the top of the arc. The pass is fast, almost too high, but she catches it. Your breathing stops for a moment and you barely manage to restrain yourself from jumping up from your seat.

Five seconds left. The team's are neck-and-neck. Natasha has the ball.

Three seconds left. She makes her move, stepping back for a three-pointer. She rises, muscles coiled, and lets the ball fly.

One second left. After cutting through the air and briefly hitting the hoop, the ball swishes through the net.

66-64. The buzzer sounds. Her team has won.

You're on your feet before you realize it, yelling along with the audience. Natasha's team crashes into her the second she's back on the ground, but she only lets them slap her back and punch her arms for a few seconds before she weaves through the small crowd.

You hop over the barricade and into her arms, not caring about the fact she's all sweaty. Her lips press against your neck, her hand rubs up and down your back. She spins you around.

"You did it!"

"Because of you."

"That shot was amazing. More of that, please."

Natasha laughs, low and rough and exhausted, and tips her head back to look up at you. You smile and kiss her. She tastes like salt and Gatorade.

"Still the best?", she teases after pulling away. The soles of your sneakers make a quiet thudding sound against the vinyl floor.

"Always", you promise, pecking her lips once more. Natasha smirks and tugs off her jersey to hand it to you. With the fabric gone, she's almost naked. Only a sports bra and shorts cover her body. You earn a few stares from the opposing team, who isn't used to your little ritual, but you don't notice. It's a nice view, so you'd be an idiot to look at anyone but her.

You put on the jersey and let her pull you into her side again. She kisses you, slow and unhurried, while leading you back toward her team.

It's a last minute decision from the team to go to a bar together. Natasha takes a quick shower before you leave, now wearing something more comfortable. Getting her to dress up is a losing battle, so you don't even try this time. Plus, there's something distinctly attractive about the grey sweatpants she's sporting (or rather, what she's sporting inside the grey sweatpants).

You stay glued to her side pretty much all night. You're in her lap, her arm firmly holding you in place. The bass makes the ground vibrate and the alcohol is clouding your senses, but it's still early enough for you to be somewhat aware of reality.

You lean your cheek against her temple, then turn your head to brush your lips against her skin. She hums and squeezes your thigh, but her attention wavers. Two girls approach her, both of them around your age and probably fellow students.

Natasha glances at them, eyebrows raised. You cup her nape and brush your thumb against her hairline.

The girls smile, a little too brightly, and start talking about the basketball game. They're shameless — even with you, wearing Natasha's jersey and sitting on her lap, they're still going on and on about the game and the shots she made.

With every word that leaves their glossy pink lips, Natasha's focus on you slips more and more. Her hand on your thigh loosens. Her gaze, first flickering between you and the others, starts to linger on them. Her lips curve into that confident little smile you know too well.

You roll your eyes and scoot off her lap. If she has to do this, you don't want to be present. You excuse yourself and go to the restroom, where you freshen up. More lipstick, more perfume. You lift the front of Natasha's jersey and take a whiff to see whether it smells. It's not horrible, but noticeable enough, so you decide to change into the top you brought.

When you return to the bar, Natasha has leaned over to the girls. Arms crossed on the bar's counter, a lazy smirk on her face. The post-game glow is on full display. She tilts her head and mumbles something. It takes you a moment to realize she's flirting.

The girls are delighted. Giggling, shrugging, leaning forward as well. Their expressions indicate they clearly believe at least one of them has a shot. You understand why — Natasha, even after getting into a relationship with you, never quite got rid of her fuckboy-image —, but that doesn't mean you're not furious.

You want to compose yourself, you really do. You're pretty sure this isn't what it looks like, anyway. Fingernails digging into your palms, you watch them for another moment. Then, Natasha subtly bites her lip in that way that first drew you to her, and you've had enough.

You're next to her within seconds, your hand wrapping around her wrist. She lets out a grunt as you drag her away, leaving the two girls speechless and mildly annoyed.

"Have you lost your mind?", she complains, finally finding her voice again. You're already halfway into a bathroom stall.

"Have you?", you snap, pushing her inside and slamming the door shut. Natasha pauses, her eyes traveling up and down your body. The top, almost translucent and leaving little to the imagination, has her more than a little distracted. "My face is up here, you bastard."

"What? Hey!" She frowns. "What happened? What'd I do?"

There's a significant height difference between her and you, but it's not like that ever bothered you. You shove her against the wall, your eyes blazing. Her first instinct is to step forward — she's taller, all shoulders and muscle —, but she can tell you're pissed. Once she realizes she's fucked up, she lifts her hands and almost shrinks under your glare.

"Are you playing dumb? Don't play dumb!"

"What are you even- I was talking to them! They asked about the game!"

"You were flirting!"

Natasha scoffs, her cheeks a nervous-rosy pink. It'd look cute if you weren't about to slam her head through the plastic wall of the stall.

"I wasn't 'flirting'", she argues. "I was talking to them."

"No", you retort. "You were flirting. I could tell. They had that glittery look in their eyes stupid bitches get when you're close to them."

She blinks, caught off-guard, and her head tilts. The word you used is one you usually stay away from. The second you start cussing out other girls? Okay, now she knows you're mad mad.

"Baby", she says slowly, "I swear we were just talking. Nothing else. I don't give a fuck about anyone but you, and you know it."

"Right." You let out a bitter laugh. The sound makes her stomach tighten. "That's good to hear. Maybe it'd be believable if you hadn't tried to-"

The door of the bathroom stall next to yours opening cuts you off. You pause and turn when you hear the quiet pattering sound. Toilet paper rips. The person flushes. Then, shuffling of feet. It takes unbelievably long, and you let out a long sigh.

"Can you hurry?", you finally bark, and the person drops their purse. Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Sorry!", they say, their voice a squeak, and leave the stall. Water runs, more paper towels, then the door falls shut. You turn to Natasha again, whose ears are as pink as her cheeks.

You raise your eyebrows, as if daring her to say something. Her mouth opens, then closes, and she rubs the back of her neck.

"Okay", she says. "Maybe it was flirting, in a way. I didn't mean to, though."

Your fingers tighten on the front of her zip hoodie. Her eyes widen in silent panic.

"You can't flirt without meaning to flirt!"

"You totally can", she says, her back thudding against the wall once more. "Can you stop that?! Jesus, you're scary."

That last bit is mumbled, but you hear it anyway. It's enough to make you laugh — a sound that slips out unintentionally — but you quickly shake your head.

"I can be way scarier, you know. This is nothing."

"I totally believe that", she says, frowning petulantly. "You're turning into a tiny terror."

Despite your anger, your lips twitch again. Your grasp on her hoodie loosens, your scowl softens the tiniest bit. It's enough for Natasha, who first tried to gauge your mood for a few seconds, to take a leap of faith.

"The sexiest tiny terror", she adds, pulling you closer. You sigh. "My tiny terror. Why would I want anyone else when I have you?"

"This feels like manipulation, babe."

Her eyes light up — babe. She's getting somewhere.

"It's not", she promises, kissing your forehead. Her hands roam your sides, your hips, and slip under your top. "I'm being serious. Scout's honor."

"You're so full of shit."

Natasha grins and keeps kissing your face. Your cheeks, your eyebrows, the corner of your mouth. Unfortunately, each press of her lips against your skin softens you further. You'll probably just have to accept she's an expert at buttering you up.

"Come on now", she mumbles, her mouth against your ear. You giggle quietly when her tongue briefly flicks against your earlobe. "You know you love me."

"I must've done something terrible in my past life to deserve this."

She hums, her hands palming your sides. You exhale and lean into her, willing yourself to not give in — and failing. Her lips brush against your neck, sucking a hickey into the sensitive skin, and a shiver rolls up your spine.

Without really noticing, you press closer. Natasha's fingers find the clasp of your bra and swiftly unhook it.

"Hey", you protest, trying to bat her hand away. She buries her face against your neck, but doesn't budge. Her hand slides around to your front. "I can't believe I put up with you."

"Me neither", she mumbles, smirking faintly. "I'm a lucky idiot."

"Well, that's true."

Natasha kisses your neck, then your shoulder. Her hands push up your top and reveal your skin inch by inch. Your breath stutters when, suddenly, the roles are reversed and you feel your back against the wall.

Your hands come up to tangle in her hair. She grips your thighs and mouths at your neck.

"You're not forgiven, you know."

"Sure."

Her teeth sink into your neck. You barely manage to speak.

"I mean it."

Underwear around your ankles, you help her tug her sweatpants down. She struggles with the condom, but once the piece of plastic is wrapped around her cock snugly, she holds your hips in place and buries herself inside you. No time to adjust — she sets a fast pace.

The back of your head hits the wall and you let out a moan. Natasha keeps rutting into you, moaning breathily, your hands in her hair and her hands gripping your ass. She stuffs you up to the brim, cock pulsing and twitching, and pounds into you relentlessly.

Right as you're just about to tumble over the edge, the bathroom door opens again. You feel a moan rise up in your throat and quickly slap your own hand over your mouth, stifling the sound. Natasha laughs breathlessly, but then whines against your neck.

Whoever entered seems oblivious. They're on the phone, talking rapidly, while water flows in the background. You hear the clinking of stilettos on tiles and then smell a faint waft of some overly sweet perfume.

This whole situation usually wouldn't pose much of an issue. You're close enough, and you know from experience that you can keep quiet when needed. But Natasha, being who she is, slows down. Her grip on you loosens, her movements are drawn-out. Your thighs tremble and you groan against your own palm.

"I'll kill you."

"Ssh, baby", she mumbles, dragging her lips along your jaw. Her hips meet yours, again and again and again, but she's going too slow to really achieve anything. "Don't get us caught."

Every deliberate roll of her hips sends shockwaves of pleasure through you. You whimper and bite down on your palm harder, meeting her movements with your hips. The pressure increases, and so does the need to push Natasha to go faster. Your thighs clench around her, but all she does is smile against your neck. You rock against her hips, desperate for more.

"Fuck you", you hiss, but the words die on your tongue when she picks up the pace. She ruts into you, urging you closer to the edge while you wrestle with the impulse to shout her name.

"I love you", she says, each word punctuated by a soft grunt. The bathroom door falls shut, and you finally get coaxed into that sweet high of mindless oblivion.

. . .

The sun is long gone, replaced by the milky light of the moon that's seeping into the library.

Natasha called it a 'study-session', hoping it'd turn into something else entirely. But exams are coming up, and as much as you'd like to hide in the encyclopedia aisle and hook up again, you'd rather she passes.

You're sitting on the table in front of her, with her head in your lap, as you test her knowledge on the subject. Sports Law — something you've only gotten familiar with since dating her.

"That's wrong", you say, running your fingers through her hair. "It's title IX of the education amendments of 1972. You should know that, babe."

She groans and turns her head, burying her face between your thighs. You smile faintly and drum your fingers against her scalp.

"Who cares? I'll pass, anyway. I always do."

"I want you to ace this one, though."

"Pipe dream."

"Nat."

Another groan. She pushes up the fabric of your shirt and shifts, her lips brushing against your lower abdomen. You bite back a soft sound of pleasure.

Not now. You have other things to focus on. But god, her hands start massaging your thighs, and her lips feel warm and plush, and the library seems empty enough. Heat pools in your lower belly and you quickly shove her off you.

"No", say, voice strained. "Study. Now."

"You're boring", Natasha mutters, grabbing the book and skimming the pages. "I know all of this. It's easy."

"You got four questions wrong", you counter, glancing at the screen of her phone when it buzzes. Her wallpaper flashes on the screen — a picture of you, only wrapped into silky bedsheets, with kiss marks on your shoulders and your hair a mess. But that's not what catches your attention. It's the message that just popped up.

A girl named Tara.

Natasha lifts her head and peeks at her phone. You snatch it before she can reach for it.

"Who's that?", you prompt.

"A girl from Sports Economics", she says, sitting up. She tries to grab the phone, but you hold it out of her reach. "Babe."

"Why's she texting you at midnight?"

"Not sure", she replies, irritated, and tries to grab it again. Her fingertips brush against the edge of the phone. "I could tell you if you'd let me read the damn text."

"She always texts you this late?", you ask, glancing up at the phone.

A simple message — hey, you awake? :) — but still unexpected enough to annoy you. You squint and try to look at her profile picture.

"Hold on, is that the girl who said hi to you in the cafeteria the other day? The one with the pink eyeshadow?"

"Yeah", she says, her arm dropping in defeat. "Tara. Like I said, I know her from Econ."

"It's midnight", you mutter, bringing the phone back down. Before Natasha can protest, you've used her face to unlock the phone and opened the chat. Natasha rolls her eyes and huffs, so you pinch her bottom lip. "You should tell her to find some new makeup. I thought she was fighting for her life against allergies."

"You're mean."

"Her makeup sucks."

"Doesn't make it any less mean", she argues, resting her head on your lap again. She sighs, eyes closing, and waits for you to finish whatever you're doing. "Still scrolling?"

"It's a long chat", you mutter, thumb swiping over the screen. Luckily, the messages seem innocent enough. At least Natasha's do. "She wants you."

"I'm pretty sure she's straight."

"Nat", you say, putting her phone aside. "Straight girls want you, too."

She looks up, smirking. You flick her forehead.

"Ow!"

You narrow your eyes at her, watching her rub the spot you flicked. "You're enjoying this."

"I am", she says bluntly. "You're going on and on about some girl I really don't care about."

"She cares about you", you argue. "In the past, that seemed to be enough."

Natasha scoffs and sits up, leaning back in her chair. She studies you for a moment, her arms crossed over her chest, then sighs. Her legs stretch out under the table.

"Exactly", she finally says. "In the past. Not now, not last week, but when it didn't matter."

"I feel like some things don't stop mattering."

"Like my love for you", she flirts. You kick her side and she lets out a quiet 'oof'. "What'd I do to deserve that, huh?!"

"You can't flirt your way out of everything, you know!"

"I'm not flirting my way out", she protests, looping her arms around your waist and tugging you closer. You sigh, thighs snugly wrapped around her torso. "I love you. Nothing can change that."

"No?" You give her a skeptical look. She just shakes her head and leans in, pressing a few kisses to your chest.

"No", she mumbles. "I love you. Period. Now stop worrying."

You stare at her as she nuzzles and kisses your chest, slowly moving upwards. Her thoughts are somewhere else already, whereas you're still stuck. Tara, the girls at the bar, the stares Natasha gets all day long. Your worries, fears, and how easily she can dismiss them. How, when you're mad, she manages to worm her way out of just about everything.

Smooth words and soft touches are her specialty. She uses them like a tool, which can be hot, but also incredibly frustrating. You know why it's so easy for her — because she knows you'll stay. You won't leave. She claims that the same thing is true for her, but maybe she'll need to prove that.

The thought creeps in slowly, dangerously. It's nothing more than a small, fleeting idea at first, but the longer you watch her, the more drawn to it you become.

Natasha says she's yours. She says there's nothing to worry about. You'd love to know whether she actually means that.

She loves you, after all. Logically, she'd love a tiny version of you just as much.

"Hey", you mumble, eyes focused on her. She pauses, lips pressed to your jaw. "You seem distracted."

"Can't help it. I'll need a different study-buddy to be able to concentrate on anything but you."

"Oh yeah?" You glance at the clock hanging on the wall across from you. Almost 1am. "It's late, you know. We might as well leave."

She hums against your skin and looks up. "Your dorm's still empty?"

"Mhm", you say before you're able to reconsider this whole plan. "We got the whole room to ourselves."

"Well then", she says, getting up and pecking your lips, "what are we waiting for? Let's go."

The hallway is as empty as the library was. Natasha presses you against the wall, caging you in between a corner and her body, and kisses you. Hands bunch up your shirt, feel heated skin. You wrap your arms around her neck and hum into the kiss.

Her hand dips into the back pocket of your jeans. She fishes out the key to your dorm, then leads you down the hallway. One arm wrapped around your waist, she unlocks the door using her free hand.

Bodies tumble onto the mattress together. Breathy laughter, stripping of clothes, bare skin on bare skin. Natasha turns, opens the drawer of the nightstand next to you to look for condoms, but you tug her on top you again. She doesn't resist and kisses you, lips moving and messing up your makeup.

You feel her nestled inside of you, every vein and throb noticeable. She grabs and angles your thigh for deeper access, her moans mingling with yours. Lipstick marks smudged on her cheek, hickeys on your chest. The bed frame hits the wall with every thrust, muffled thuds filling the air.

Her hand finds your lower belly, pressing down on it. Natasha feels her own outline through the soft skin and groans quietly. Teeth nip at your neck, her hips meeting yours a few more times. Then, the anticipated release and the relief that comes with it.

Warmth pools deep inside of you. It drips down your thighs, staining the bedsheets, but all you manage to do is turn your head and bury your face in her neck. Your fingers brush against your stomach, and the full acceptance of what might happen starts to set in.

. . .

Weeks have passed. Late spring has turned into something resembling an early summer.

A little '+' confirms it.

You're alone when you take it. It's quite early, not even 6am, but you got woken up by someone yelling in the hallway. The test was right next to you, lying on your nightstand like a bad omen, then you finally grabbed it and got up.

Taking it wasn't hard, but checking the result is. You stare at the test in your hand, your brain too tired and sleepy to process everything. Leaning against the wall of your dorm's bathroom, you try to let reality sink in. It doesn't feel real. Not yet, at least.

Knowing it is real helps, though. You put the test aside and exhale, fingers drumming against the tiled wall behind you. Your thoughts are more of a mess than you thought they'd be.

It was a heat-of-the-moment, impulsive decision. It was also incredibly stupid. Yet you're here, eyes glued to the ceiling, and find yourself regretting nothing at all. At this point, not even the thought of her reaction scares you.

She said she loved you. All you're doing is putting that love to the test. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Bullshit. You know you've fucked up.

You meet her after class, as you agreed on earlier that morning. She seems calm, happy, completely oblivious to what secret you're (literally) carrying with you. Hands on your waist, she pecks your lips, then she grabs your backpack and slings it over her shoulder.

It's a warm afternoon, so you head to the mall. You grab a few things you need — new pajamas, some shampoo, a water bottle to replace the one you lost. Natasha tosses a pack of condoms into the shopping cart and you barely stop yourself from reacting too obviously.

On your way out, you pass a store that exclusively sells baby-related items. Strollers, onesies, highchairs. You avert your eyes and stay close to Natasha's side.

Late evening. You're back on Clint's couch, passing around pizza and trying to decide on a movie. Clint complains about Laura's last pick — Juno — which, apparently, most of you didn't like too much.

Natasha pulls your legs over her lap, lightly massaging your shin. She's only in a white tank top that leaves her shoulders and arms on full display. You'd be distracted if you weren't worrying about other things already.

"I wasn't a fan, either", she says, glancing at Clint. "But I did like what it led to."

"Right. I swear to everything that's holy, if you start something like that again-"

"Seriously, calm down." She raises her eyebrows. "Keep ranting like that and poor Laura will think you're going celibate."

He rolls his eyes and slumps into the couch, one hand swatting at her. She laughs and bats him away. When she glances at you, she notices how quiet you are, and nudges you.

"You're unusually non-hyper verbal, baby."

"I'm good", you say, stretching. "Just...bored."

You're not bored. You're far from bored. But you needed an excuse. However, Natasha takes it the wrong way, and a tiny smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth.

"Yeah?", she says, running her hand higher. First it touches your knee, then it brushes under the hem of your dress. "Bathroom's empty. Maybe we'll even make it into the bedroom. I heard Mr. Prude over there got a new mattress."

"Romanoff, I will-"

"Shush." She raises her eyebrows at him before leaning closer to you. Her breath fans your cheek, her voice is a raspy murmur. "If you want us to ditch them, just tell me. I'll get us outta here."

"I'm fine", you assure her. "Just get me a beer."

Natasha nods and turns, grabbing a can from the ice bucket they prepared. She cracks it open right as you realize you probably shouldn't drink it.

"Actually", you stammer, "I'm good. None for me. Thank you."

She raises her eyebrows, but doesn't comment on it. Shrugging, she takes a sip.

"Sure", she says. "I can get you a coke?"

"No, thanks." You shake your head and sink into the cushions, trying to keep the heat from your face. It's difficult, though, and it only gets worse when a character in whatever movie you're watching (truthfully, you aren't paying much attention) is revealed to be pregnant.

You rub your neck, throwing glances at Natasha every now and then. She's still oblivious. Then, she catches you staring, and her head tilts in silent question. You pause before getting up and dragging her along.

"What...?"

"Not in my bed!", Clint shouts.

"We're not having sex!", you yell back, slamming the door to his bedroom shut.

"We're not?"

You turn toward Natasha. "No", you say, awkwardly crossing your arms. "We're not."

"Shame", she says, smirking, and pushes her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. She studies you for a moment and her smirk softens. "You alright?"

"I'm fine", you lie. "We need to talk, though."

Her smirk disappears entirely. She frowns, her gaze steady and attentive. Alright, you think. You're mine now. Have fun finding out about it.

"Talk?", she says, leaning against the closet. "About what, baby? Did you do something?"

"Uhm..."

"You did?" She grins faintly. "Wow. Didn't expect that to ever happen. How bad is it?"

"It's not funny", you say, plucking at the strap of your dress. "You won't be grinning like that once I tell you."

"Don't underestimate me", she teases, hands slipping out of her pockets to rest on your arms. "Anything can be funny, if you're looking at it the right way."

"Oh yeah?" You pause. "How funny is us being in this for the long haul?"

"Not very funny, honestly. I wouldn't mind, though."

"Mhm." You tilt your head. Your heart beats faster and faster, but at this point, you have to say it. "Good to know."

"It is?" Natasha hums and pulls you closer, her lips brushing against your nose. "Want to make it official, or why's that?"

"I mean, having a baby is pretty official."

The second those words leave your lips, Natasha freezes. First, she just stares at you. Her hands drop to her sides. She takes a step back, then another, her eyebrows furrowed and confusion etched into her face.

The gears in her head start turning. She tries recalling whether you've been using protection, but then her brain fails her, and she exhales sharply. Silence lingers, heavy and uncomfortable, before she finally blurts out.

"We're what?"

"I'm pregnant", you say. "Took a test. It's positive."

"You...I..." She rakes her hand through her hair, her eyes squeezed shut for a moment. Another step backwards, and her back collides with the wall. "We were careful."

"Oh, no." You watch her, growing more worried. "We weren't. Not that night after the library."

Natasha looks at you. Her brain eventually catches up.

"Oh, fuck", she curses. "Fuck. Y/N!"

"What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'?!"

"Can you calm down?" You tilt your head. "You said you're in it for the long haul, no?"

"You can't be serious!"

"Uhh, guys?"

You whip around. The door is still shut, but Clint is standing behind it.

"What?", you call, irritated.

"Look, no idea what the hell is going on in there, but if you need help..."

"No help. We're fine."

"Are we?", Natasha hisses. You look at her.

"Oh, relax", you say, rolling your eyes. "You'll live."

She lets out a panicked wheeze and scrubs her hand down her face. You're being too calm, too nonchalant, whereas she feels like she's about to have a dozen panic attacks at once. She's not one to let herself get tied down. At least, that's what she always told herself. You may have changed that belief, but old habits die hard.

"I can't have a kid now! I- I have practice, I have games!" Then, as if the thought just hit her: "This is like a teen pregnancy."

"You're in college."

"Same thing!"

"Absolutely not the same thing", you argue, stepping closer. "Look, it won't be easy, but it could be worse. I mean, you love me — now imagine how much you'll love a tinier, cuter version of me."

She shoots you a glare, her breathing still uneven and rapid. "Don't think you can get much tinier."

"Oh, fuck you."

"Absolutely not", she mutters. "Pretty sure that's what got me into this mess."

"You're saying I should've gotten railed by someone else?"

Another glare. This one shuts you up. Natasha turns, looks out the mirror, glances at the striped bedsheets and the painting on the wall. Finally, she looks at you.

"I shouldn't even ask, since you seem perfectly fine", she mutters, crossing her arms. "But what about you? You okay? I mean..."

"I'm fine", you say, more quietly now. She nods and looks away again. You step closer and cup her face, standing on your tiptoes to litter small kisses across her cheeks and forehead. With every touch, her panic softens into mild anxiety. Then, at last, her arms wrap around your waist.

You look at her. Natasha exhales sharply, like she's trying to make peace with it all. She doesn't smile, but her fingertips graze your lower belly.

"If we're doing this", she mumbles stubbornly, "I get to teach them basketball."

"Fine."

"They get a jersey. A tiny one. With my number on it."

You sigh. "Sure."

"Also, no more junk food. The baby eats what you eat."

You scoff, squishing her face. She gives you another halfhearted glare.

"I will end you", you say, squeezing again. She shakes her head and tries to pull away from your grasp. "I mean it! What's life without fries?"

"Depressing", she says, hands sliding to your front and then back to your waist. "But healthier for whatever is growing inside you."

Your expression turns deadpan. "It's a baby."

"Show me an ultrasound first."

"You know what, maybe I did make this up."

..."Excuse me?!"

"I'm kidding!"

"No", she protests. "Now I want to see a doctor's note."

You let out a long exhale and pull her closer, your face against her neck. You press a kiss to her pulse point to keep yourself from slapping her. Sometimes, you wonder whether she's annoying intentionally.

But then, she softens. Her arms wrap around you, muscles enveloping you in safety and warmth, and her lips press kisses to your hair. Her heartbeat against your ear, her scent everywhere around you, you feel yourself melt a little.

"If this is real", she says, shushing you before you can interfere, "I'll do my best, alright? I'm not good at sticking around. I know that. But you have made me stick around, and I'm sure the baby will only make me stick around longer."

"'Longer'", you mumble, voice muffled, "better mean forever in this case."

"I said what I said."

"Romanoff."

She laughs, still shaking a little, and tightens her hold on you. Her nose is buried in your hair.

"We're also finding an apartment", she murmurs. "The dorm's too small. Can't fit a crib in there."

"Obviously."

"And we're not telling the others. Not yet."

You hum, hands sliding under her top and feeling the muscles on her back. Her skin is warm and smooth, making you press closer to her. She groans softly.

"No?", you ask, drawing shapes on her lower back.

"No. Not until I don't feel like passing out just thinking about it."

You laugh, fingertips pressing into her skin. You look up at her and smile. The smile you get in return is a bit strained, but her hands come up to cup your face. You lean in and kiss her.

First, it's soft and slow. Her thumbs brush over your cheeks. A quiet hum comes from her throat.

Then, you're walking backwards. You feel the mattress against your legs. You pull away and raise your eyebrows.

"Now?"

"Cut me some slack. I need to relieve stress."

You huff, but she's got you on your back before you can say anything else. Your hands fumble with her hair, releasing it from the loose bun, and watch the red strands come free. She hums and kisses your shoulder.

Her hand dips under your dress, traveling upwards until her fingers reach your stomach. She touches it, tentatively, before fumbling with your underwear. You let out a sound of approval, head dropping onto the mattress.

"This baby better not change anything", Natasha says, bunching up your dress around your waist.

"Change what?", you ask lazily.

"This. Us." She leans down and kisses your thigh. "You know what I mean."

"I truly don't."

She palms herself through her sweatpants, her eyes shooting you an unimpressed look. "You can't be that dense. Jesus Christ, my child is going to be a moron."

You scoff and flick her shoulder, but there's a faint smirk on your face. This is good. This is safe, familiar. "Can't believe I let you knock me up."

Natasha smiles. For a split second, her fingers twitch against your lower stomach before she focuses on pulling your underwear down. As if on instinct, she reaches for the condom in the pocket of her sweatpants, but then pauses. She glances at you. A look is exchanged, and you both start laughing.

It's slow, this time. Slow and lazy, unhurried. Your earlier 'fight' scared Clint off, so he doesn't even interrupt you. Neither of you is sure what's coming next, but in that moment, it doesn't matter.

. . .

By the way Natasha is staring at the screen, you'd think she's seeing an alien.

Truthfully, it might be one. You're not sure. All you know is that the white blob does not resemble a human in the slightest.

You glance at the ob-gyn, who seems unfazed. She keeps moving the transducer over your gel-slicked stomach, making the image on the screen waver. Finally, she stops and hits a button. The image freezes.

You squint at the screen. A blob. A vaguely human-shaped blob, maybe, but still a blob.

"There's the baby."

You look at Natasha. She raises her eyebrows, seeming helpless. Where?, she mouths.

The doctor is used to this. She doesn't even need to ask you anything to zoom in and point again, but it only helps minimally.

"Oh, yeah", Natasha finally lies. "I see it."

"Yeah", you add, trying to avoid the ob-gyn's eyes. "It's cute."

The woman sees right through you. She smiles faintly and prints the picture for you, then she wipes your stomach down with a few paper towels. "It's fine if you don't see it", she says, throwing the towels away. "Most parents don't. Babies do look a bit deformed in the beginning."

"But it's healthy?", Natasha asks.

"Completely healthy. Don't you worry." She smiles and tugs off her nitrile gloves. "I'll be back in a minute, alright? Feel free to look at the image and play 'Where's Waldo.'"

You hum noncommittally and glance at the ultrasound picture. Still a blob.

Natasha's fingers twitch against her knee and she shifts. All of this is becoming way too real way too soon.

"It's gonna come out looking like a real person, right?", she mumbles, frowning.

"You're kidding."

"Sorry, but it looks like something you'd see under a microscope."

You grab the first thing you find — your cardigan, bunched into a ball — and toss it at her. She catches it and spreads it out over your legs.

"Nice one", she says drily. "Come on, you can't tell me that looks like a baby."

You roll your eyes and glance at the picture again, fingers brushing over the glossy surface. She's right. It doesn't even resemble something supposedly alive, let alone a human being. But it is a human being, according to the doctor, and that's all you need to know.

"Maybe it's taking its time getting cute."

"That'll take a while."

"I hate you."

. . .

Nobody knows. Not yet. But hiding it is getting harder with every day.

Basketballs bounce, shoes squeak, the air smells of sweat and gym air. You watch the ball be thrown in your direction and you catch it, then toss it aside.

It was a flirty text that led you here. You were in bed, drunk on sunlight and half-asleep, when your phone buzzed. The picture you got was one you couldn't complain about — Natasha, in front of a mirror, only wearing boxers (just slightly tugged down to reveal an additional sliver of skin) and a bra. A picture taken in the locker room of the gym, right before practice. It was enough to get you semi-conscious and shoo you out of bed.

Practice is over now, so you walk onto the court. Natasha wraps her arms around you and kisses your cheek, her hand sneakily moving to your stomach — still pretty flat, but your shirt hides the tiniest of bumps.

"You did good", you say, smiling, and cup her face. The heat is making the ends of her hair curl, and strands of baby hair stick to her sweaty temples. You scrunch your nose, brushing a damp strand of hair off her forehead. "Really good. But that last shot was...meh."

"Criticizing me?" She scoffs and presses her lips to yours. Around you, her teammates talk and grab their stuff before heading to the showers. "A little more support would be appreciated, you know."

"This is me supporting you", you point out, walking her out of the gym. "What else do you want me to do, huh? Cheer? Fetch some water?"

"I wouldn't say no to seeing you in a cheerleading uniform."

You scoff, your hands wrapping around her lower arm as you lead her across campus. Only a handful of students passes you — it's summer, and most people are either visiting their families or vacationing. Not you and Natasha, though. You're spending your free time looking for an apartment.

"You'll have to wait around 6 more months for that." You pause, quickly re-calculating. "I think. My brain isn't working the way it's supposed to."

"Nothing new", she mumbles, shooting you a smirk when you jab your elbow into her side. "Kidding, kidding."

She squeezes your waist and leads you to the campus parking lot. She's still in her jersey, all sweaty from practice, but you have an appointment for an apartment viewing soon. Actually, you've got a whole list of apartments you want to look at. Natasha is taking apartment-hunting very seriously.

Too seriously, you're starting to think. Suddenly, not only the size of the apartment and the neighborhood where it's located are important, but also a bunch of things that are, in your humble opinion, simply not relevant.

"This next one has a basketball court nearby", she says, adjusting your seatbelt for you. "Good for early practice, you know. For the kid."

You raise your eyebrows. "For our fetus?"

"Hey, never too early."

You keep your thoughts on that matter to yourself.

At the apartment, the landlord shows you around. Kitchen, living room, bathroom, two bedrooms. Everything seems to be going fine. Despite still being in a sweaty jersey, Natasha manages to make a good impression. Then, he dares ask about your current family situation. That's when the usually so composed woman starts stuttering.

"Well, engaged. I guess. I mean, not yet, but in a way. Uh...fuck. Y/N?"

You glance at her, frowning. "Engaged? Where's the ring, then?"

Natasha looks at you. The panic in her eyes almost makes you laugh.

"Are you engaged or are you not?", the landlord asks. "It's fine if you aren't. Not that important, really."

"We're not", you say. "One day, though. Or so I hope."

"Yeah, yeah", Natasha says, still stressing. "One day."

A few more apartments you look at are enough to wear you out. You collapse onto the bed in your dorm, face buried in your pillow and one leg hanging over the edge. Natasha sits next to you and squeezes your butt, smiling.

"Hey", you mutter, voice muffled.

"Hey yourself", she teases. Her hand travels lower, tickling the inner part of your thighs. You squirm and she laughs quietly. "Tired?"

"Exhausted."

"Can't blame you for that, baby." She leans in, pressing a kiss to the sliver of skin between your shirt and shorts. "Want me to order dinner?"

You glance at her, eyes lighting up with hope. "Pizza?"

"We said no junk food."

"You said no junk food."

"Think about the baby", she says, tugging at your shorts. "Mhm, you could take these off."

You snort and kick at her blindly. You manage to hit her in the ribs. She lets out a grunt and pinches your butt cheek. You roll over, one cheek reddened from the pillow, and give her a challenging look. "Ouch! Come on, I'm growing your kid. Least you can do is get me a pizza."

Her fingers trail up your spine. Before you know it, she's lying behind you with her front against your back. Pressed together from head to toe, not an inch of space separates you.

She kisses the back of your neck. Her hand rests on your stomach, rubbing gently. "You're right", she mumbles. "You've trapped me. Pizza it is."

The words trapped me make your cheeks go warm. You snuggle into her and ignore the guilt and satisfaction warring inside you. This is something she'll find out about one day. Maybe. But right now, you're too happy in your little bubble to make it pop.

"I want garlic bread, too."

"So demanding." She hums and dips her hand into the front of your shorts. Her bulge presses against your butt. "How hungry are you, exactly?"

You whine softly. With the pregnancy making your body overly sensitive, every little touch sends sparks of want through you. Heat pools in your lower belly and you shift, grinding against her. She hums, her fingers tugging at the waistband of your shorts. White lace is revealed, and she moans.

"Really hungry, actually", you mumble, squirming. "But I'm willing to wait."

"Thank god", she says, peppering your shoulder with kisses. "I was considering jerking off in the bathroom otherwise."

"Gross."

"Love you too."

Natasha somehow manages to place the order. It's difficult, though, especially when you roll over. One leg hooked over her waist, she whines and rocks her hips against yours pathetically. You laugh and then moan, feeling her hard-on nudge all the right spots.

You bury your face in her neck and place kisses until her entire neck is covered in lipstick. Finally, she tosses her phone aside. You both ignore the sound of your roommate's lamp crashing to the ground and instead focus on each other.

. . .

Natasha was never one to get easily distracted by an audience.

Now that there's a tiny viewer in the stands, though, that has changed.

Niko is barely old enough to stay awake for longer than two hours, but that doesn't mean he can't go to his mom's basketball games and watch. One hand wrapped around your finger and earmuffs that look way too big on him, he's undeniably the star of the stands.

You thought he'd be a tiny you. As it turned out, Natasha's genes are a little too stubborn for that. His eyes are still baby-blue, but the redness of his hair is unmistakable. Paired with the matching jersey he's sporting, you feel like you're carrying a much smaller version of her around.

You ignore the looks and the delighted whispers. As always, your focus is on Natasha. That's something that, even now that you have a baby, never changed. It's her game. She's the important one here.

You watch her dribble the ball as she scans the court. Focus unwavering, she dodges a defender and leaves them stunned. With one leap, she soars into the air and lets the ball swish through the net.

Not too long ago, you would've jumped up and cheered. But you don't want to jostle the baby too much, so you settle for clapping awkwardly while holding Niko in one arm.

Natasha turns, eyes glistening, and spots you in the crowd. You take Niko's hand and make him wave at her. Her smile only widens.

Minutes later, the buzzer sounds. Another victory.

Natasha comes rushing to the stands before anyone can even attempt to congratulate her. She helps you over the barricade, then takes off her jersey to hand it to you. The piece of fabric is swapped for the baby, who clings to her like a little koala.

"Did you see that?", she asks, breathless, and pats Niko's back when he starts fussing. "What a shot!"

You nod, laughing, and kiss her cheek. Sweaty as always. And, also as always, you don't find it in you to care.

"I did", you say, putting on her jersey. "Much better than in that first halftime, babe."

"Yeah?" She looks at the baby. He's still fussy, one hand grasping at her shoulder. "What about you, bud? You like it?"

"Didn't even cry once", you say, brushing your fingers over his tuft of hair. "Which is a miracle."

"It definitely is."

You linger by the barricade, talking and smiling, exchanging quick kisses. Natasha's teammates approach you to ask whether you want to go out and celebrate, but you decline. They leave, buzzing with joy, only for a few girls to introduce themselves to Natasha.

This time, all they get is a brief smile. She kisses Niko's cheek and leads you away from the court, away from the crowds, away from the noise.

"Not gonna stay and talk a bit more?", you tease. It's surprising, how much has changed. Her habit to flirt excessively seems to be gone. It's something you're thankful for — having to fight her about that was tiring.

Natasha shakes her head. You walk through a hallway, sneakers squeaking on the floor, and turn a corner. The locker room is empty when you enter it.

"Nah", she says, sitting down on a bench. She gently takes the earmuffs off Niko's head and watches him yawn. "I'd rather get home. He looks tired."

"He is, yeah."

"You're tired, too", she points out. You tilt your head and smile faintly.

"And here I thought I applied enough makeup."

"Don't worry, you're gorgeous. But you also look tired."

No point in denying that. Niko is merely four months old, and he's far from sleeping through the night. In addition, Natasha is unable to get up most nights, since practice and the games are demanding. She tries her best to juggle college, basketball, and an infant.

"Fine", you admit. "He kept me up all night. But I'm okay, I swear."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. I'd look more put together, but you try applying lipstick while holding a squirming baby."

Natasha laughs and reaches up to take your hand. You're on her lap before you know it, nestled against Niko. She kisses your shoulder.

"You look put together", she assures you. "Tired, but put together."

You smile and lean into her. Her arm is strong around your waist, biceps swollen and veins popping, and you turn your head to kiss her cheek.

"All for you", you mumble. Then, you tap Niko's nose. "This' all for you, too."

"Oh, I know." Natasha nuzzles her face against your shoulder. "Lucky me. Lucky you. We're all lucky."

Lucky you, indeed.

[cutehoons02]

SPEED OR LOVE?

HYUNG LINE X F1 DRIVERS SERIES

*title: I’m in love an idiot

*trope: Grumpy for Sunshines

*F1 driver: Jay F1 Mercedes driver (inspo charachter: Carlos Sainz)

*synopsis: Being the daughter of the most famous engineer in the world for having won world champions like Hamilton or Vettel has advantages but a disadvantage is to hear about 24h on 24h from Jay Park. The new Mercedes star, with her gentle ways of communicating with fans and flirting with any girl in the paddock and with her look as a movie diva manages to make people do everything he says in a snap of fingers, except when he finds himself having to face the daughter of his engineer, super cynical and with a different idea than that is the real Jay during the European season of F1.

*title: Still hate me? Always..

*trope: Enemies to lovers/Social media manager

*F1 driver: Sunghoon F1 Red Bull driver (inspo charachter: Max Verstappen)

*synopsis: Sunghoon could not stand Y/n and Y/n could not stand Sunghoon. Y/n loved his work as a content creator for Red Bull because he could cheer on his favourite team and feel the adrenaline that was felt before qualifying or race and at the same time travel around the world and create fan content on various social platforms, but there was only one problem in his work and that was called Park Sunghoon "Ice prince" of the grid. Whenever Y/n tried to get some social challenge or interaction, Hoon hated it more and more because he didn’t need to have millions of followers or social interactions but just run and maybe taste for the first time the win of his first world champion in Red Bull.

*title: Kiss me, don't say no!

*trope: There's only one bed/reader is Jake's Pr

*F1 driver: Jake F1 Mclaren driver (inspo charachter: Lando Norris)

* synopsis: You thought being an F1 driver’s Pr was exhausting but you couldn’t imagine when you had to live three weekends in a row with Jake Sim, Jake represented everything that a Pr didn’t want to face in his career. Drama in his social media because Jake was born in GenZ and used social media without thinking that he was one of the most famous pilots of the moment, flirting with models or even worse fans during race weekends, duels and scenes with his teammate because the Mclaren had the unhealthy idea of putting two young promises of twenty years to command the team. Y/n would have wanted to kill him but under that cheeky face of F1 driver, Jake suffered from many insecurities and who knows thanks to his Pr things between the two could improve race after race.

*title: Romantic lover

*trope: Celebrity falss in love with fan

*F1 driver: Heeseung F1 Ferrari driver (inspo charachter: Charles Leclerc)

*synopsis: Heeseung loved the adrenaline and anxiety before having to risk everything to qualify for pole position or to win potter but those butterflies in his stomach every time he entered his fiery colored car had never heard them until a shy girl university did not win a content to spend a whole season writing the thesis on the post-pandemic boom thanks to the DTS series and various media platforms that have helped make this sport increasingly focused on young people. Y/n had always loved Heeseung from his arrival in Ferrari but would never be expected to share with him beautiful moments like his first victory at home moments as his continuous panic attacks due to an accident.

If your are interested in this story leave me your @ so that when i publish the story you will be first to trade. ♡

[boybandbaby]

Best of My Life (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Non-BAU!Reader)

guess this is a 5 times hotch let’s the team see his relationship

word count: 1676

warnings: unspecified brutal case, alcohol, tattoos, established relationship, axes, sweet!hotch

note: the bar scene is from my favorite scene in one of my favorite movies check it out here (all credits to the movie) frank farmer gives me hotch vibes

tag: @bernelflo based on your request though I did go off track I’m so sorry I tried my best

1️⃣

Hotch finally got a break from the team’s badgering after they met you. Well kind of. While they finally got to see you and meet you in person, they were still curious about your relationship and dynamic.

Once Penelope asked if you had met Jack yet, Hotch wouldn’t shut up about you two.

“Oh my god, he’s worse than Spencer.” Derek shook his head, leaning against his desk as he watched Hotch tell the girls another story about you. Something about you being good with an axe.

“Hey!” Spencer yelped.

When Hotch introduced you to Jack for the first time, you’d all went axe throwing. You picked the activity not wanting Jack to think you were boring. Jack ended up loving it and loving you.

Spencer’s mouth gaped as he watched Hotch pull his phone out to show the girls a video of you and him taken by Jack during that date. While Jack’s teenager instincts told him it was gross, he thought it was nice to see his dad so sweet so he recorded it. The video showed you pressed up against Hotch’s back as you moved his arm in the correct position to throw the axe. You kissed his cheek and gave Aaron space to throw the axe and for your safety. When Aaron hit the target, you cheered and clapped your hands. “Your dad isn’t too bad, huh Jack?” You stated before the video ended.

Hotch tucked the phone away before heading back up into his office.

“I would never have thought Hotch would be sharing his private life with us.” JJ smiled into her mug.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Penelope sighed, dreamily. “They’re so cute together. Oh shoot, he forgot his coffee.”

Penelope picked up the black travel mug adorned with “best boyfriend ever” in cursive on the side.

“Look!” JJ pointed at the words. “He’s so whipped!”

Penelope took the cup up to his office not bothering to knock. “Here Hotch, wouldn’t want you to forgot that you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“Thanks, Garcia.” Hotch smiles, doesn’t even comment on her light teasing.

2️⃣

While away on a case, the team noticed Hotch had stepped away to answer a phone call. Assuming it was work related they didn’t say anything until 10 minutes later, he still hadn’t come back.

“You think he’s okay?” Emily asked.

“Let’s go check on him.” Derek urges.

Much to their surprise. Hotch is seated in an empty room, legs kicked up on the table, leaned back, and phone to his ear.

While he’s happy to hear from you and listen to you ramble about your day, he does know there’s a case to be solved and an unsub to be stopped. There’s a sparkle in his eye though his lips aren’t smiling. He wouldn’t want anyone to see him smiling during a case so brutal and get the wrong idea.

Derek and Emily hear snippets of his side of the conversation.

So, you took him to the zoo and aquarium? You’re spoiling him too much.

I know I wish I was there with you both

Where are you going to dinner? Use my credit car. It’s in my nightstand

When I get back, how about we go to that spa you’ve been talking about? We can get a couples massage

Why wait until Valentine’s Day when we can go now?

Okay, we’ll stop by the pie shop on our way back. I’ve got to head back the team is probably looking for me.

I love you.

Hotch looks up to see the amused faces of his two agents.

He stands from the chair and straightens his tie. “Sorry about that, y/n has been calling me to make sure I take at least 10 minutes a day for myself during cases. She says I’ve been working too hard.”

“Happiness looks nice on you, Hotch.” Derek states and it’s definitely not his normal teasing.

3️⃣

When they’re back in the office and it’s a paperwork day, the team decides to order in for lunch.

Penelope knocks on his door to get his order and sees he’s already eating. “Already got lunch, sir?”

“Yes, y/n made this incredible meal last night and packed me some for lunch. Come give it a try.” He pulls out a spoon from his lunchbox. Garcia internally squeals. Her boss, Aaron Hotchner has a lunch box. She can see that it’s a plain black lunchbox. On the right side there’s a small net holding a few napkins, a set of reusable utensils, and a folded sheet of binder paper with ‘A <3’ on it. On the right side, there’s an open Tupperware with some rice and vegetable dish. There’s a granola bar, bottle of water and cup of yogurt.

Garcia approaches the desk as Hotch scoops a little bit of everything on the spoon and hands it to her. He continues eating as he reads a document on his desk. Garcia hands him back the spoon and agrees at how tasty it is. She leaves Hotch alone to enjoy his home cooked meal.

4️⃣

Hotch laid on his right side, propped on one elbow and feet crossed at the ankle. You sat on the same lounge chair in front of him but facing away. Hotch had his free hand rubbing at the lower half of your back while you talked to JJ and Will about the concert you and Aaron had went to last weekend.

“You should’ve seen him! I mean I didn’t know the frozen margaritas would get him so drunk!” You laughed. “Aaron danced and sang the whole time.”

“I really liked the music.” He shrugged. You had introduced him to one of your favorite bands and he had gotten you tickets.

“I had to massage his knees the next day.” You laugh. “Poor baby was so sore.”

“I was more than sore. I was in pain.” He smiles. “Not to mention we had gotten tattoos that day.”

Record scratch. The other members of the team pause their separate conversations to inquire more.

“You got a tattoo?” Garcia squealed.

“Nothing too flashy.” He smiles, “something tasteful.”

“Well let’s see it!” Emily gushes.

You show them your leg, a small ‘AH’ in something similar to Times New Roman inked onto the back of your left ankle.

Aaron sits up, rolls his sleeves up, and shows his forearms. On the right is a small ‘J’ and on the other side in the same font, your initial, etched just below his elbow crease. He wanted something he could cover during work, like he said, nothing too flashy.

“That’s insane.” Spencer mumbles. “I am actually speechless.”

“Very tasteful, Aaron.” Dave raises his drink to Aaron.

5️⃣

You’d been invited by Hotch to join an after work outing to get some drinks.

Hotch and Dave stood at the bar, discussing Rossi’s upcoming vacation plans. Hotch listens but keeps his eyes on you. Partially for safety reasons but mainly because he loves looking at you.

While you dance with the girls, twirling and smiling, a woman slowly comes up to him.

“Hi.” She says breathy and sultry.

Aaron takes a sip of his drink, his eyes barely flickering to the woman before narrowing back on you. You throw your head back and grip Emily’s bicep as you laugh at a particularly raunchy dance move from Penelope.

Aaron thinks, just ignore her and she’ll go away. She unfortunately doesn’t get the message and squeezes herself between Dave and Aaron.

“I couldn’t help but notice how handsome you are.” The woman coos as she begins to press her body into Hotch’s side. “I’ve been watching you all night from across the room.”

“Why don’t you go back there and keep watching.” Aaron roughly pulls his arm so it’s not touching the woman. She’s taken aback and rushes back to where she’d come from, clearly embarrassed and humiliated.

“Brutal, Aaron.” Rossi laughs.

“Not interested, Dave.” Hotch meets his eyes.

“Clearly.” Rossi nods his head in your direction. Aaron’s eyes turn back just as you’re approaching.

You’re not quite drunk but not quite tipsy either as you stumble towards him. “Hi handsome!”

“Hi honey.” He sets his drink on the table and his hands immediately find your hips.

“Did you see Penelope? Her moves attracted a new friend.” You laugh and turn in his arms to watch Penelope and said new friend, Willard. Aaron’s not shy in pulling your back into his chest. You willingly lean back into his chest.

Aaron follows your gaze as he watches an older man, white hair with a big cowboy hat and boots spin Penelope around. It’s all just fun, nothing serious.

“You know, I’d like to see you in a cowboy hat. Bet you’d look real good.” You state.

“Me? In a big hat like that?” He chuckles. “I don’t think so.”

“No? Maybe those dark blue jeans I like on you but no shirt.”

“You want me to be a shirtless cowboy? That’s way too out of character for me.”

“What if you wear a flannel but not an undershirt? You can keep some of your modesty while keeping me satisfied.” You pull his arms around your stomach and run your fingertips through his arm hair. Yes, he decided to wear a short sleeve shirt to the bar just for you because you told him he has “delicious arms.”

“That sounds like a reasonable compromise.” He whispers into your ear.

“If I could persuade you to wear all that, can I persuade you into a dance with me?” You turn back to him, giving him the best puppy eyes you can with the tips Jack gave you. Jack swore that if you pout your bottom lip just a smidge and force a bit of tears in your eyes, Aaron gives in immediately.

“Only if you do that move Penelope did before.”

“Aaron!” You gasp. “I didn’t know you could be so dirty!”

“You have your fantasies and I have mine.” He winks before taking the lead to pull you onto the dance floor.

[gallaghersgal]

EVENTUALLY, lip gallagher (mkverse)

follow up oneshot to borderline, lip x bfs!reader (nickname, Mk)

TAGS & WARNINGS → NSFW 18+. smut!! making out, clothed grinding, lip cumming in his pants, f receiving oral. idiots in a situationship type deal 🤭

CHAPTER SUMMARY → the inner workings of your relationship with lip simmer, coming to a boil one night after his baseball game.

A/N → thank you so much for all the love on this series!! now you get to read about mk and lip getting down and dirty in a honda civic

WC → 2.4k

Summer has always been your favorite time of year. No school, shining sun, as many hours spent laying in the sun as you wanted. With Lip headed halfway across the country in a few short months, you were determined to make this the best summer of your teen years. Of course you were aided by a drivers liscense, working car, and two fake ID’s. 

You and Lip roam the city, Fiona doesn’t seem to mind since Lip turned eighteen, but your own parents scold the both of you enough to get the full experience. They do it out of love, you know. 

Lip kisses you often. His hands explore under your shirt, below your skirt, everywhere you want him to touch and nowhere at all, in the same moment. He joins a local summer ball league, playing at an old minor league stadium on the Northside. You go to as many of his games as you can, the tickets are dirt cheap and your regular paychecks from the movie theater plus some extra cash for babysitting keep you stable. You still squirrel money away for the upcoming year, but fresh out of high school all you want is your first taste of true freedom.

On the fourth of July you dress up in tight jean shorts and a loose flowing tank top in a deep shade of red. Two dark blue ribbons hold your hair in dorothy style braids which you nestle under a Chicago Cubs ballcap. Lipstick on and assets flaunted, you hop in your car and head to the field. 

Lip plays good, he always says you're his lucky charm, but he’s the one who led his high school team to a state championship. You know it isn’t luck. You don’t mind when he says it, though, especially when he talks about you to his teammates.

“Yeah man, my lucky charm right here,” Lip calls out to Torres, his closest friend on the team. He smacks an exaggerated kiss to your cheek, drawing a giggle from your lips before he opens the drivers side door for you.

Torres laughs, then teases Lip, “yeah? She y’r girl, or y’r chauffeur?”

You laugh at that one as well, slipping into the seat. Lip leans into your space for a second, “get comfy baby girl, m’kay?” You nod in response, eyes a little starry, and he kisses you quickly. A moment later the door is shut, you can half hear him talking to Torres, but you don’t pay him any mind. Your eyes focus on the mirror on your sun visor. You apply a vanilla coconut lip balm, knowing he’ll kiss you when he sits down. 

And he does, sliding into the passenger seat. He only takes a moment to close the door before he’s in your space, one hand on the plush of your thigh and the other cupping the back of your neck. He looks so good sitting there across from you, curls wild and messy. When he kisses you, you find yourself climbing across the center and into his lap. 

“Woah, hey there,” he says with a devilish grin. You get straight to the point. grinding your hips against his. His mouth falls slack, one hand resting on your hip as the other brushes gently under your shirt. You kiss that stupid look right off his face. 

That gets him going. His hand travels upwards to squeeze your breast over your bra. “Soft,” he mumbles, palming you with needy hands. One finger rolls around your nipple, then his other hand slides from your neck down to your ass. He guides your hips over his own, through your jean shorts you can feel the hardening outline of his dick, the length of it pressing into you. “Fuck—yeah, MK—shit,” he lets out a groan when you press harder against him. 

“We—we shouldn’t be—oh!” You yelp when his fingers dive below your shorts, you’d barely noticed him fumbling with the button. 

His teeth caress your neck, fingers resting against your pussy. Fuck, you wish he’d gone into your panties already. “Whatever y’wanna do, ‘kay?” he reassures you gently. 

You nod, fingers gripping his wrist. You can’t let him touch you like that, not yet. You can’t get too attached. “Kiss me again,” you say breathlessly. Barely a beat passes before his lips are on your own. 

Lip draws his hand from your panties, both palms landing on the curve of your ass. “This okay?” he asks quietly, soft breath fanning against your lips. 

“More than okay,” you mumble, kissing him again. Your tongue presses past his lips to lick against him, whining into his mouth. The kiss is hot, it’s heavy, and you find yourself rolling your hips against his in a desperate, needy fashion. When Lip groans in response, you know you’re doing something right. 

His hands leverage you against his body, his dick pressing againt the zipper of his jeans. “Fuck, tha’s it,” he encourages as you press your chest against his own. One greedy hand lifts the fabric, his lips pressing to the tops of your breasts where they spill over from your bra. He noses into the soft skin, unable to resist sucking a soft bruise into the flesh. 

You feel so disconnected from reality, the thoughts and worries that you shouldn’t be grinding on your best friend like this flown out the window. His hands caress your body, tracing every soft and supple place he can find purchase in. With one hand in his messy curls you pull him up for another kiss. You press your hips down harder and a needy whine escape your lips. 

Lip’s hands squeeze your waist, humming with a cocky smirk. “You like that, huh?”

“You like that,” you quip back, your hand moving between your bodies to rub at his aching cock. The sound that follows is desperate, heady, punched out of his throat like he’s never been touched before. You wonder how long it’s been since he had someone like this, how long he’s been waiting for you. You wonder… “Have y’been thinking of me?” you ask quietly, kissing from his neck up to his ear. You continue in a sultry whisper, “when you touch yourself?”

You can’t believe the sight, your face pressed close to his own while he nods eagerly. “All the time, a-all the fuckin’ time, Mk please,” he whines.

Barely a breath passes before you seal your lips to his own, grinding your hips down. “I think about it too. Think about us,” you whisper between messy kisses.

It sends him over the edge. Your lips on his own, tits pressed to his chest, warm cunt grinding down on his dick. He can’t believe you’re real. His thighs shake as he cums in his boxers. A string of apologies follows, “fuck, ‘m sorry, s-sorry,” he. stammers out.

You kiss him through it, mouth slowing to a gentler pace as your tongues tangle. Warm hands trail up and down your back, and when he catches his breath he begins to kiss down your throat. He maneuvers himself away from your lap and leaves a sloppy trail of kisses down your sternum, lifts your shirt so he can kiss your stomach, then his face rests between your thighs.

“What’re y’doin–oh, ohmygod–Lip!” You whimper as he licks a stripe up the center of your panties. 

“Repayin’ the favor, he mumbles against your pussy. He adjusts himself in his messy boxers, then two strong hands are gripping your thighs. Lip fucking Gallagher is looking up at you through his lashes, mouth pressed to your hot center. “Say no, right now, an’ I won’t go any further. I promise.”

You think about it, try to weigh the consequences, but your mind is so hazy with need.“Fuck, Lip. Take ‘em off,” you whine, “please—”

That’s all you have to say. Your black thong pools by your ankles, Lip tries to pocket them but you kick him lightly, “cut that out, y’freak,” you tease. Though, the idea does get you a bit hot and bothered. But god would that be uncomfortable in jeans. 

“Another time,” he mumbles against your thigh, and your heart flutters.

Another time? You don’t have time to dwell on it, white hot pleasure searing through your body as he laps messily at you. His nose bumps against your clit and draws a sweet whimper from your mouth, hands flying to his curls. You tug on the soft strands while Lip wastes no time flicking his tongue over your sensitive clit. 

Your eyes flutter closed, back arching involuntarily. Your core presses to his face, and you feel him smirk against you. “You like that, huh?” he asks with a cocky tone, kissing your thigh for a moment as he catches his breath. You can only nod in response, as one of his thick fingers slides inside you.

“F-fuck, yeah, ‘s’good,” you babble, tugging sharply on his hair when he bites your thigh. The action pulls a broken moan from him, the sound vibrating against your center. He’s so close, one finger slowly crooking up inside you, breath fanning over your pussy. “Please, ‘m close,” you whine pathetically. God, this is humiliatingly hot. 

“Yeeaaahhh,” he murmurs, drawing out the word while his fingers speed up. He’s added a second now, his lips attached to your puffy clit. He laps from you like a man starved, the coil in your core winding tighter with every second. 

This is… fuck. It’s so much better than you’d imagined. You often wished your pleasure was drawn from his own fingers, not your own. Your daydreams and delusions were right, his thick digits feel like heaven. Little do you know, the sounds you’re making are Lip’s own heaven.

He pairs every thrust of his fingers with a swirl of his tongue, drawing the prettiest moans from your parted lips, painted cherry red. Oh how he’d love to see that hue smeared at the base of his cock, your cheeks flushed and eyes teary. Lip has to focus again on you, chasing down your high to keep his dick from making a second appearance. 

“C’mon, c’mon Mk,” he grunts into your pussy. You’re messy, fucking dripping for him, he could bust right then and there. Theres a desperation in the way he laps at you, his sounds almost whines.

A burst of your arousal floods his tongue, your fingers grip his hair so hard it stings, but Lip doesn’t mind. Your sounds are like music to him. He withdraws his fingers and pushes the muscle of his tongue inside you, lapping up every drop like it’s nectar, and when he’s finished he rests his head on your thigh and simply stares. You’re so beautiful in his eyes–chest heaving, thighs parted for him–a picture perfect Goddess, a woman after his own heart.

He kisses the softness of your stomach before maneuvering himself over to the driver’s seat. “Guess I should drive you home, least I can do since y’made me cum in my pants and all.” You flush at his words, still awestruck at the orgasm he’d given you. “Y’with me, MK?”

You manage to breathe in, pulling your shorts and underwear up from where they’re pooled at your ankles. You fasten the zipper and button with trembling hands, “y-yeah, get me home Gallagher. I need a cold shower.”

He chuckles at that, cranks the engine and puts the car into reverse. Somewhere down the road while stopped at a red light Lip turns to you, fingers resting under your chin. “You’re all sticky,” you gripe, and duck away from him. 

“Ah, quit that, ‘ve got you all over me,” he leans over with a smirk, and you can’t say no when he kisses you. You taste your own arousal on his tongue, and his hand massages your thigh gently. A green glow interrupts the moment, and Lip puts his hands back on the wheel as you continue towards home. “Hey uh, y’wanna go to ihop?”

“You’re fucking joking,” you say, the words followed with an incredulous laugh while you look over at him. Lip looks dead serious though, one eyebrow raised in question. He begins to smirk when you stammer out, “j-jeez, let me shower first. I guess you did work up my appetite.”

The light turns green, and Lip howls with laughter as he presses the gas. 

After separate showers—much to Lip’s disapproval—and a shared plate of bottomless pancakes, you sit across from each other at a small booth crammed in the back corner of the crowded ihop. Lip smiles as he tears one end of the wrapper off his unused straw. He blows the rest of the paper at you, earning him your signature glare. You can’t help but laugh too, admiring the pretty pink blush on his cheeks.

“So uh, ‘ve been thinkin’ about some things,” he says after your giggles calm down.

“Uh oh,” you tease. “What’s up?”

Lip fiddles with the strings of his hoodie, avoiding your gaze for a moment, then looks up at you with those icy blue eyes. “I’m not gonna go to MIT.”

Your eyes widen, “w-what do you mean? It’s perfect for you, and you—”

He cuts you off, shaking his head. “Too far, I wanna be closer to home. That way I can chip in with the bills, watch the kids, y’know.”

You’re in disbelief, your stomach churning. “Lip, you were given a once in a lifetime scholarship. Why would you give that up?”

Lip shrugs, “I got the same kinda thing here. Figured it’d be good to stay in the city, help out Fiona.” He looks down before continuing, “and it’ll be nice to have you ‘round too, yeah? Both of us at UChi?” Your heart flutters when he looks up again, gauging your reaction.

You put on a smile, covering all the conflicting emotions that swirl inside you. You’re happy for him, and you tell him that. Happy to have him around. Right?

You offer to drive, so you won’t fidget with the weight of your nerves. The ride home is fairly quiet, the only noises coming from the radio. Lip kisses you again by your door, hands flirting with the hem of your top but never quite going under.

“Hey,” you murmur curiously, pushing him back just slightly. You bring your arms up to his shoulders, and duck backwards when he tries to kiss you again. You have to hold back a giggle when his needy lips brush your jaw. “What’re we doing,” you ask softly. 

He shrugs, that infuriating grin on his face. “We’re friends MK, like we’ve always been.”

“Friends with benefits,” you correct. 

“Yes ma’am. Friends who kiss,” my murmurs, lips sealing over your own. “Maybe even, friends who fuck, huh?” He scoffs at the playful shove you give him. 

“Good night,” you say firmly as you unlock your front door. He gives a two fingered salute before jogging off across the street. You sigh, closing your door behind you. It’s been coming for a while now. You might as well let it happen.

THX 4 READING → beta'd by @carmybrainworms :))

© gallaghersgal, 2024. div. by cafekitsune, nicodefresas

LET IT HAPPEN → coming soon

[ch4nb4ng]

Marital Duties

Pairing: Chan x afab!reader

Word count: 9.4k

Genre: Established relationship, married

Warning: SMUT (18+ only), phone sex, sexting, car sex, mention of boobs, oral sex (f. receving), penetration, swearing, mention of cum, mentions of pussy, kissing, praise

Note: ok i kinda nervous to post this but yas! Here is my inspo (here) (here) (here) warning it’s literally p word.

Tagged: @seo--changbin @j-0ne25 @cb97whoree @kpopsstuffs

Summary: Having a job that meant travelling and spending time away from your husband made the absence grow much fonder for you and your needs, as well as your husbands.

Work conferences were the bane of your existence. Yes you were away from your kid and sometimes it was hard, but being away from your husband was harder. There was no doubt about your job. Being a world renowned forensic psychologist was amazing and something you wanted for a long time. Sometimes though, it was nice to just curl up on the couch, read a good book, watch a comforting movie; there was nothing wrong with indulging in self-care, you just did not have the time to do so. 

The recent promotion into becoming head of the north-west region of mental health care was a big step up from your previous job. No one than you was more qualified for this. Everyone, colleagues and board members put your name up. Psychology was your life, but your family was bigger. 

Highschool sweethearts, you and your husband had been inseparable since what felt like the dawn of time. Meeting at 15, having your first dance at 17 at prom. Graduating and going to college together; If you had a dollar for everytime you accomplished a big milestone with him or because of him, you would be swimming in luxury. When the two of you got married, things just fell into place even more. The doubt of being able to help people mentally after graduating from your post grad made you nervous, but then again, you never thought that you would be married to such a wonderful man. A dream job at your local hospital fell into your lap, and your husband became the nurse that everybody wanted to assist them with their care. Working in close contact with him everyday was just another blessing in disguise; you simply could not get enough of him. It was impossible to get sick of him.

That was when you decided to have your first child. What could be a better mix than the two of you combined? The first 4 years of parenthood came with its challenges. Nevertheless, it was the best decision you ever made, and you couldn’t think of anyone better than to share the unfamiliar journey with.

The promotion, however, meant that you wouldn't work with your husband as much, and spending time with your daughter was a little limited, but you knew he would never tell you to turn something down, and in a way it was the best decision for your marriage. The times together were shorter, but it also meant that every moment was savored tenfold. The time was better quality, the acts of service more thoughtful, and the sex. The sex, was that much more passionate, just like the first time he made love to you. He would always find ways to surprise you. Whether it was the way he grasped, grabbed you on the fibers that lingered to be touched, the way his body pressed upon yours, lips lingering on new places. You were always amazed with how much he could do, and what he was capable of.

These are the ideas that tortured your mind when you were away on business trips. Calling him and hearing his voice, seeing his face through the tiny phone screen was not enough. It didn’t matter how long you had been together, you always craved and missed him significantly.

“Hang on,” he whispered through the phone speaker, “someone wants to say hi to you.”

Your heart beamed with joy every time you saw her little face on the screen. God she looked like her dad, and you knew she'd  grow up to be a beautiful woman.

“Hi mommy,” she giggled, fingers crinkling then uncrkinly as she waved at the camera, “I miss you mommy.”

“Aw baby,” you pouted, “I miss you too. Mommy will be home tomorrow. Now it’s time for you to sleep.”

“Yes,” he cooed, “and daddy is going to read you a bedtime after you say goodnight to mommy.”

Your baby squealed with joy, running out of the frame and to her room. You could do nothing but chuckles, careless that she was that excited over a book of words that she forgot to say goodnight.

“Let me call you back at 15.”

You nodded, pressing the red cross before rolling on your back and looking up at the ceiling, admiring the off white paint color, heart beating out of your chest every second that the callback was not made. It’s not that you were worried he wouldn’t call back, you just felt that longing you always did when you weren’t looking at him.

The vibration on your chest was extra sensitive. You rolled back over, now lying on your front with your hand resting on your chin, other hand holding the phone as you answered. 

“Hey baby.”

“Hiiii,” you whispered, a smile on your face impossible to be rid of.

“She was out like a light.”

“I’m glad.”

“How was your day, baby? I want to hear all about it.”

You giggled as you saw him get up, walking into the bathroom of your house as he placed you against the bench next to the sink. Chan wasn’t shy. He thought it was completely normal to remove his scrubs and leave his upper body bare as he bent down to the bottom drawer, taking out his skincare and placing it on his face. Chan was your husband. You had seen him shirtless 100 more times than you could count. It should not affect you this much. It should not make the temperature of your cheeks rise. It should not cause a sudden sharpness of change in your breath. It should not make your eyes bulge, and it should definitely not send you into a head spin when his biceps flexed when washing his face. Being a clinical psychologist meant having pristine precision and concentration, so if anybody got a hold of this live footage right now, they might question your profession.

“Y/n, Y/n?”

You blinked, quickly snapping your head to get back in the game. It was too late, however, your husband was already smirking at your distraction. You could try and play it off, but the both of you knew that he was too smart to fall for that.

“Sorry babe, I’m a bit distracted.”

“Oh yeah? What’s distracting you?”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, “you know exactly what you are doing.”

“Me?” He gasped, placing a hand on his chest, flexing his opposite bicep, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his obvious attempt to woo you over, the subtle flirt. Sometimes it was easy to resist, but in this case, it was easier to play along, feign innocence until he truly told you what he wanted. The two of you liked to play such games, especially when you were on the road. It was time for you to sit up, placing Chan on the lamp atop of the bedside table before placing yourself on the edge of the hotel bed. The buttons on your shirt were suddenly feeling a little tight. The smirk on your husband’s face grew the moment he saw the first two buttons undone, a sneak peak of your cleavage making its debut for the night. You stopped there, gently pulling down the fabric, stretching the collar of the shirt, consequently putting your chest on full display. 

“Two can play that game Mr. Bang.”

A deep chuckle escaped his lips as he walked over to your shared bedroom, placing his phone in similar fashion to yours before removing his bottoms, your husband now in nothing but his boxers as he laid down, stretching out his legs before lifting you again, wanting the closest view to your fingers continuing to remove one button at a time, a painfully slow movement to your fingertips. Fuck. Now he kind of regretted starting this game with you tonight. A gasp of gratification spilt from Chan’s lips as he watched the satin material that made up your shirt slither off those, in his words, gorgeous shoulders of yours. The black lace bra, the one being your husband’s favorites out of pure coincidence the only garment covering your chest. 

Chan loved every part of you, make no mistake. He would worship every part of your body 24/7 if he could. He simply could never get enough of you, but your chest, your breasts were on a whole different level. Chan loved your boobs. It didn’t matter what the two of you were doing, promiscuous acts or not, if he could have his hands on them, he could. Cuddling, sex, hugs; call him a pervert, but he didn’t care. It was his wife for god sakes. He would feel abnormal if he wasn’t attracted to them. Conveniently for you, this was something you could play to your advantage. Didn’t want to do the dishes? Show him your cleavage. Needed to put your daughter to sleep but you wanted him to do it? Promise him to show your cleavage after he does so. It was a convenient weapon to use, and this was the perfect time to use it. It was fair, seeing as he was using the weapon of his own to try and get you where he wanted.

“Aw come on,” he whined, “you did that on purpose?”

“Did what,” you smiled, fingers gently tracing the lace attached to the strap, “I didn’t do anything.”

Tapping the phone screen, you sighed. It was like, and your flight home was something that required you getting up much earlier that you would ever prefer. You should go to sleep. Hang up on him. You were going to see him tomorrow anyway, surely you could suppress your urges until then. 

But then you saw your husband redirect his palm from the outside of his undergarment, which was obvious to the eye, to the inside, a gentle slap against his skin as it dived past the waist band. Fuck this was cruel now. Not only because you could see his hands subtly tumbling underneath, he drew attention to how hard he already was, and you didn’t know what aroused you more: his probaby pulsating length or the fact that he was as aroused as he was because of you. It didn’t matter how many times it occurred, Chan always had a way of making you feel special. Physically, emotionally, intimately; it was part of his aura, and one of the main reasons that you were so attracted to him in the first place.

“Baby,” you gasped, hands traveling up waist and to your chest, gently kneading the mass in an attempt to match his slow pace that he was palming himself, “you’re so naughty. I have to go to bed.”

“Aw come on baby,” he groaned, head resting atop the headboard, gaze even more piercing at the angle his head was at rest, “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“I know Chan,” you sighed, your next words going to be knowingly disappointing for him, “I have to check out at 3am and it’s already almost 10. You know what I’m like when I don't get my beauty sleep.”

Chan gave you a disapproving pout as he took his hands out of boxers, a shiny ring reappearing from the undergarment as he took the phone with both and lay flat on his back, sinking under the sheets and head gliding onto the pillow. He was humbly accepting defeat, most likely because he would see you tomorrow anyway; that’s when he could have his fun.

“I know baby it’s ok,” he smiled, bringing his face as close as possible to the camera, lips still pouting, “let me give you a kiss goodnight.”

“Thank you baby,” you giggled, also leaning forward to kiss the phone screen simultaneously before whispering a small, “goodnight.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, and the adrenaline from your almost raunchy rendezvous over the phone wore off quickly. You weren’t that young anymore. Getting tired was much easier. There was much less energy, especially after getting riled up like that. Even if it was what you saw while you were sleeping in your dreams, and you only have to wait 12 hours to see your beautiful husband in the flesh. 

***

The alarm caused a fright, a deep groaning sound of annoyance bellowing from you, but that quickly wore off. The immediate thought of seeing Chan and your beautiful daughter being the main reason for your sudden change in temperament. Your bags were already packed and you organized your brain knowing that you would be too tired to do it in the morning The smile on your face couldnt dared to be wiped off once you were in the taxi. The cool breeze of the warm summer hitting your face as you pushed the window in the back seat halfway down. Summer was your favorite time of the year, especially since it was the time you got to spend with your family that was of the best quality. All of the aspects of your job you loved, even the times you traveled. However, your heart did sink a little when you had to travel at this time of the year. The school holidays always felt too short, so when you had to travel, the amount was even shorter.

A ding from your phone brought out of your somewhat solemn daze, heat creeping to your cheeks immediately:

[hubby <3] 7:00 am Can’t wait to see you, hope there aren't any delays at the airport.

*one attachment*

Jesus fuck. Now sending a full blown dick pick with your daughter in the car, which you assumed was there, was definitely not the way to go; and thank god your husband knew that. But that did not let him off the hook. It was a photo of him, in the mirror, with his face cut off and only his lips in the frame. He was wearing a black sleeveless tank and those fucking grey tracksuit pants. Call yourself cliche, but nothing turned you on more than that particular piece of clothing. Chan had one hand on the camera, the other hand at the base of his hardened length. He always did this. As mature as Chan was, the times he chose to be inappropriate truly were the most inconvenient for you. A loud gasp escaped your lips, head almost hitting the chair in front as the driver came to a halt.

“Everything okay back there?”

“Uh yes,” your head snapped towards him, nodding furiously as a terrible attempt at acting in the norm, “why did we stop?”

“We are at the airport, miss?”

His tone sounded one of question, kind of looking at you in the rear mirror like you were one of the strangest passengers he had. You looked outside, a ferocious laugh escaping your lips as you decided it was better to say nothing and just pay, get out, and grab your own luggage. The awkwardness left your mind in shambles. How dare he send such a photo. Your husband. It was most likely to get revenge from last night, because he knew you would have to sit on the plane and suffer in silence.

Your luggage was checked in quickly, security easy to get through; there was plenty of time to wait in the boarding lounge. At first you were annoyed by the message. The sexual frustration that had already accumulated from your absence away from him was enough, but if anything, it felt like this was an extra punishment for last night.

But then you opened it again, started analyzing it (if you could call it that) until your finger was subconsciously in your mouth. It didn’t matter how many times you looked at him, your husband, he was always going to do it for you, every single time. The ache that has been coming and going throughout the week returned, and it made you annoyed. So annoyed that you found yourself lifting your butt from your chair, walking to the bathroom and locking yourself in one of the stalls. Gripping the bottom of your shirt, you pulled it down as much as you could without taking it off, mimicking a downward looking angle in an attempt to copy your husband, lips down as the camera clicked, off silent. Fuck. It’s fine. The idea that people may have heard the sounds of you taking a photo in the toilet. You were too fueled with a horny rage to think of the ramifications as you sent your photo, giving in and responding to him.

[Y/N] 8:30am No delays. Make sure you’re there on time.

*one attachment*

Oh, he was gonna hate that. Chan had patience for a lot of things. But short, dry messages were something that made him mad. Serves him for sending you that first. You knew exactly what his reaction would be as well, but at least you could board the plane in peace.

**

It was around 3 hours before the plane arose from one location and landed in another. The plane ride was painful. You tried to do the things you usually would. Create drafts for your patients, read a book, watch a downloaded netflix movie, and just sink into your non-reclining chair and relax; but you simply couldn’t.

The brain rot that was the simple image of your husband’s half naked torso should not be affecting you this much. But that was the problem too. It wasn’t just the picture. That image was the catalyst for the sexual rumination that had been numbing your brain for the past week. The want to get home was even stronger now knowing that you really had something to look forward to.

Of course, to your dismay and longing, the baggage claim took forever, security had a long line, and by the time all of that had been completed, it was, of course, an hour schedule that you told your husband to come and pick you up. The look on his face was sour to say the least. There he was, leaning against the exterior of your shared four wheel drive, drinking his probably now lukewarm coffee. The tingle instantly came back to your core, feeling like a teenage girl again. The scene was just like old times. Chan, waiting around the corner from your house to come and pick you up. The only thing that was different was that it was slightly taller, and had a few more wrinkles. Nonetheless, he looked super hot. Still wearing those grey sweatpants, and a fucking black tank. A fucking blank tank that was probably the tightest fitting pieceing of clothing in his fucking closet. His stance was strong, biceps, triceps, and ¾ of his pecs bulging out in public, and it was truly making your brain dizzy. You walked over quietly, the jarring sound of your suitcase wheels rolling along the parking lot concrete ruining the suspense of your arrival. Chan’s head snapped, eye widening the moment you appeared in his vision. 

“Hi baby, sorry I’m late the customs took for-”

The interruption was welcome as Chan shoved his phone in his pocket, apparently with an empty takeaway coffee cup falling to the floor as he enveloped you into his arms, a groan of admiration falling from his lips as they immediately attached to yours, your body to relaxing against his, eyes fluttering shut at his touch. God, it was only a week. One week, but you craved his touch more than anything in the world. It truly was the little things such as his calloused textures, the warmth of his skin, his smile. Holy fuck his smile was, in your opinion, the greatest thing in the world that ever existed. 

“Mmmh,” you hummed, gently pulling away, hands snaking across your husband’s waist, a smug smile on your lips, “I missed you.”

“Missed you too baby,” he growled, morning raspiness to his tone, “how was your flight?”

The implication of his question made your eyes ogle, the visual image of his text message imprinting on your brain. The smirk that developed on his face formed the expression of realization that hit you. Suddenly his grip on your waist was tighter, and Chan was pulling you in even closer, leaving you to feel everything; yes, everything. 

“It was good,” you giggled, knowing that you had been caught, “what was not good was your behavior since last night.”

“Hmm is that so? I don't see this being a one-sided activity?”

Your right hand left his torso, smacking him on the chest before taking a step back and walking to the car. It was fun to pretend to be annoyed, especially because you knew it would work your husband up even more. Chan hated when you sulked, especially when he playfully called you out. Chan always liked games, and so did you, because you knew that there was always one thing it would lead to. The longer the game went on, the more passionate the ending to this game would be. You walked into the car, peacefully sitting in the passenger seat as you left your husband to take your suitcase and place it in the boot. Serves him right for being a smartass. There was no sound except for the car door once the two of you were inside. The ignition was turned on, and so were you, watching your husband's arm reach over to the shoulder of your car seat, his head turned to look behind him. This was so dumb! You really should not be aroused by this; you’ve seen him do this thousands of times.

“You okay babe?”

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of this lustful daze, “yeah, why?”

“Ok it’s just,” he paused, shifting into drive, then placing his hand on the inside of your thigh, “you’re staring at me like a piece of meat.”

“I am not,” you scoffed, “you wish I was staring at you like that.”

He said nothing, a light chuckle following as the car fell into another silence. A comfortable one at that, well, to an extent. His thumb was gently nudging at your skin, knuckles inching closer to your center. There was something in the air, and the longer it lingered, the harder it was to ignore it. The want. The need to have him. It was impossible. You knew that even if you did get home soon that your daughter was home, and there was no way you were going to traumatize her like that; kids remember everything. If you took too long in the car, your father would get suspicious. He was one to get on your nerves like that, especially if he spent more time than agreed to watching your beautiful child. 

“I got your text message this morning.”

Chan’s eyes were on the road, which forced you to keep yours. Your eyebrows furrowed however, knowing that the street he just turned down was not the right way to your house. Instead, Chan turned the opposite direction, the car coming to an immediate stop at a lookout, but not just any lookout. The lookout east. The two of you came from a small town, meaning there weren't many spots to go; that was until the lookout east was uncovered. Back then it was the talk of the town, the go to hookup spot for many. You have seen it yourself. It had a beautiful view however, and most of the time you and Chan would go just to admire the view, but did not mean that every time would be an innocent one. The two of you had not been in years, and there was a big question mark as to why you were here right now. Chan said nothing, getting out of the car and walking over to your side, opening your own door before opening the back door, crawling in with you following. The two of you got comfortable, that was, until Chan pinned you down to the back seat, lips once again attacking yours as he pressed his horny groin into yours, a deep groan bellowing from your husband's chest. His dominance was easy to comply with, the desperate moan falling from your lips a culmination of feelings from the past 12 hours. This really could have been the horniest you have ever been in your whole entire life, even including the times of excessive sexual hormonal changes during pregnancy. His tongue snaked past your lips, without any slight of permission as his hips fell into a gentle rhythm. Chan moved with such delicacy and poise, yet somehow he was able to convey his ultra high level of arousal. Now you were in big trouble; it was serious business when Chan pinned you down like that. It meant he had serious business to take care of. 

“Chan,” you tried to speak, his lips interrupting each word, “what, are you doing?”

He pulled away, sitting up. Chan said nothing, eyes fixated on your chest as he grasped your wrist to pull you up, your body clumsily falling into him as you fixed your balance. Chan was quick to attack your lips again, hands making light work as they gripped onto the edge of your shirt. Your arms lifted unconsciously, allowing the kiss to break as he took off your shirt, your upper body in nothing but your undergarments. Your husband was like a kid in a candy store the moment he saw the slightest bit of cleavage. Chan’s arms wrapped around your back as he effortlessly unclasped the unwanted fabric, lips immediately attaching to your left nipple. A gracious moan fell from your lips, a hand tickling the back of the hair at the base of his skull, keeping a guidance. At first this tongue was small, gentle. A few kitty licks right in the center. Although it was minimal touch, you were one to have more sensitive nipples, so the feeling was already heaven enough. It wasn’t until his entire mouth was attached, a parietal noise of vacuum escaping his lips each time your tit went in and out of his mouth. 

“Mmmmm,” you hummed, back arching slightly at the subtle texture of his teeth, “you’re like fuckin newborn.”

“Mhh can’t help it,” he huffed, out of breath, hand replacing his lips for a brief moment, “makes me want to have another kid.”

Chan gave you no time to reply, lips resuming their position, but now on the opposite nipple. His fingers never stopped moving, either on your shoulder, running up and down your arms, but mainly on your breasts, doing whatever he can to feel you. Each squeeze of the mound brought a whine to your throat. His statement ran through your mind and just stayed there. Having another kid was not really something the two of you had ever spoken about. It wasn’t that it was off the table, no. It truly was just something that had not come up in conversation. You could understand why he wanted to have one, and in this moment especially, it had nothing to do with having an actual child. 

It is true that when you met your husband, your body shape resembled more of a P, but when you were pregnant with your daughter, Chan was on another planet. Any chance he got, his hands were on them. Call him twisted, but he loved how much bigger and softer they got when you were deep into pregnancy.

When you came back out of thought, and the major distraction of your husband's lips on your body, you pushed him away gently. You followed the sort of harsh motion with a gentle peck to his lips, arm wrapping around his neck as you smiled at him in disbelief. The last chance the two of you, well more him, had been so reckless like this was so long ago you would not even be able to recall. This didn’t mean you hated it though, if anything, it satisfied that little part of your adolescence that lingered. The adolescence that was always sparked whenever you were away. Whenever your calls turned to a lustful space. The photos. The phone calls. Usually the ‘rebellious’ behaviors were to compensate for the distance. But now, Chan was hungry for you, even when you were right in front of him.

“Babe, what has gotten into you?”

Your husband buried his face into your chest, a large breath filling his nostrils, your scent deeply satisfying him before he responded. 

“I just missed you a lot, baby. And that picture you sent drove me fucking wild.”

A smirk appeared on your lips, legs hovering over your husband's waist before encasing the lower limbs around his waist, a light amount of friction created by the swift move of your hips makes him hum in pleasure. Your eyes, now sitting on top of his lap, gazed over, looking down on the poor man. There was a slight emotion of guilt there. Depriving him of getting what he wanted. You didn't really care though. If anything, pissing him off usually led to better sex after, and there was nothing in this moment that you wanted more. 

“Mmmh, as much as I want this,” you mumbled, another soft kiss in between your sentences, “I need to go home and see my daughter which I have not seen in a week.” 

“You’re right,” Chan chuckled, “I am getting a little bit carried away, aren't I?” 

Yeah he was impatient, but he understood, and it was one thing you really loved about him. He was extremely empathetic, sometimes to a fault. Able to put himself in everyone else’s shoes. So as soon as you mentioned wanting to see your daughter more, he understood. He passed you your bra and shirt, quickly helping you put them back on, not without stealing another mouth watering kiss, and hopping back into the driving and passenger seat promptly. 

The drive was once again peaceful; which lasted around 30 seconds. Maybe it was a better idea to just fuck in the back of your car, because the ache between your legs, when reflecting on the past week, was at the most intense it had been. Maybe this was your karma for withholding your body from your very eager husband. It didn’t matter now because whether you liked it or not, all of this was going to have been scheduled at a much later, uncertain time.

Chan’s hand was placed on your thigh like before, the light background and the noise somewhat distracting you, but not for long. Your husband’s grip was getting stronger and stronger, inching closer and closer to your wanting pussy with each second. A sharp gasp left your lips when his middle finger traced over the hem of your jeans, your level of arousal heightened to the point where even the breeze most likely was enough to partly satisfy yourself.

“Chan.”

“Y/n.”

“Stop it,” you whined, fingers coincidentally fidgeting with the button of your jeans, following the same direction with your zipper before the pair of pants were below your waist, your bottom undergarments now on display. You looked down, embarrassed at the mass wet patch coating your panties. Your husband's hands took a little bit of a wander, but froze almost immediately when he felt that familiar patch he had felt oh so many times. The digits were quick to act, another moan spelling from your mouth as soon as he got you in the exact spot he knew to touch. That were the perks of having a husband, because whether the time of orgasm was long or short, he knew exactly where to touch you to make that happen.

“Your body is having the opposite reaction,” he smirked, “and my eyes are strictly on the road.”

“And keep it that way.”

“Mhmm,” he ignored, fingers somehow able to push your panties to the side, raw fingertips now spreading open those pussy lips. God you felt dirty, nasty. How could you do this in your fucking car? Too horny to even wait until you were in the comfort of your bedroom. You were much too harsh on yourself. It was most definitely your husband's fault for opening that can of worms the moment he rocked up on the facetime camera without his shirt on. Therefore, your humility was minimized, there were always much worse things you could have done. Chan was easily able to find that wanting little entrance of yours, two fingers effortlessly plunging themselves inside, the unsympathetic texture of his hard working fingers gently scratching the velvet interior of your walls, hips now gently rocking back and forth on him. Your hands came to your breasts automatically, pinching, twisting, flicking the sensitive buds in any way possible that could create a replica of Chan’s mouth from previous moments. Fuck, no one else could do you like your husband, even yourself.

“Fuck Chan,” you whimpered, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Shh it’s okay,” he cooed, coaxing you through his honey textured tone, “just let it feel good, worry about other things later.”

Just as you let your head fall against the headrest, eye fluttering shut, the car came to a halt. Eyes flying open, a mound of disappointment when your visual fields were filled with your front yard. To your dismay, your husband withdrew his fingers from your pussy, a large squelching sound in the moment as he placed his hands on the gear shift, placing the toe of your into park before turning the car ignition off. The look you were giving your husband now was one of sadness, despair, making him laugh. He loved when you were dramatic.

“You’re not happy to be home?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, redoing your pants up before storming out of the car, forcing your husband to grab your suitcase as you stood impatiently at the front door, waiting for him to open it. It would be impossible to wipe the puffed up look of content on his face, knowing that he got right under your skin. Games were fun to play, but you simply knew that if he didn’t give you what you wanted soon, the house would fall into chaos. It was one thing to wind you up, but this time it was too far to push through, then stop just when things were getting good.

A fake smile plastered on your face, the refreshing thought of seeing your daughter coming back into your mind as you walked through your abode. It faded however, unable to see or hear anything that resembled your little baby. It wasn’t until you walked down your long hallway that led to your kitchen that you saw the note on your marble bench. It read the following:

Hi Darling, hope you had a safe flight!

I have taken my beautiful granddaughter to the park for a playdate with a couple of her friends and the other available parents. 

We are leaving at around midday, and won’t be back for a few couple hours. Apologies you will have to wait a little longer, but I couldn’t say no to her beating eyes when she asked me.

I'll see you when I’m looking at you.

Dad

“Chan!”

Your timbre was loud, somewhat frightening your husband as he rolled your luggage across the floor, meeting you in your shared kitchen. He was kind of worried. Chan knew that your dad was taking care of her while he went to pick you up, but he never said anything about taking her out. He stood next to you, trying to analyze your expressions before you spoke. You missed your daughter a lot, there was nothing false about that statement. Nonetheless, when the smug look came to your face at the thought of what having an empty house implied, you couldn't help yourself. 

“Did you know that my dad took her to the park?”

Oh fuck. Chan thought he was in trouble; big big trouble. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to suppress your smile at how hopeless he looked. Being the medical professional you were, it was easy to read your husband like a book. And after his actions, which were already on the verge of crossing the threshold of what you would put up with, he was in his every right mind to react this way. Walking on eggshells was the right way to go. From his friskiness on the phone, to sending an almost naked picture to you in public, to publicly groping and prodding at your highly aroused body in the discomfort of your car, to now delaying your reunion with his daughter; my my my did he dig himself a massive grave that he would not be able to dig himself out of this one. 

“No,” he answered, hesitance leaking from his tone, “she must have asked him after I left.”

“Right,” you paddled, handing the note your dad had left to your husband. A sigh of relief in the form of his chest falling from the fat breath he sucked in before dissipating from his chest. Taking a step close, your husband ignored, focusing all his efforts on the written material until he felt the texture of what was your fingertips find a place on his torso, index fingers ‘accidentally’ finding a way underneath the hem of the thin material that made up his shirt. The note was removed from your husband’s face in the form of a toss with his own hand, eyes piercing into yours the more and more the skin of his torso was being exposed to the light. Your palms then became a part of the conversation, gently pressing against your husband's groin as you could feel his length awake from a light slumber.

“Why am I sensing that you’re not mad now?”

“Me,” You gasped, feigning ignorance as you finally pulled the flimsy material over your husband’s head, “I was never mad?”

“You weren’t?”

“No Mr. Bang,” you giggled, wrapping your hands around your husband’s neck once more, “Mad that you have been teasing me for almost 24 hours straight?”

Chan didn’t answer, instead sweeping your legs off the floor and into your arms, carrying your bridal style back down the said hallway, bedroom door conveniently already open as he laid you down on your back. A hum of happiness fell from your lips at the familiar feeling of your own bed sheets encompassing your back. You were brought out of those thoughts quickly however, your husband left you little to revel in bed texture, removing his sweats immediately before lifting you by the armpits again, leaving you to stand and him sitting on the edge of your shared mattress. The invitation of your barely dressed husband with a pressing erection straining his boxers was a very enticing seat. One that you took without a second thought as his hands were straight for your throat, a gentle squeeze as your lips connected first, legs cloaking his waist once more, the both of your tongues fighting for dominance over each other. Chan’s mouth vibrated as he relaxed into the sensual nature of the kiss, hands drifting away from your upper body and right to the outside of your thighs, a gentle tingle of fingertips dancing across your heated skin as you pulled away from a brief moment, wanting to match at least half of his body in the lack of clothing. Your husband helped as he withdrew his hands from your body for a brief moment, deciding to, rather than pull your nice shirt over your head like a normal person, he pulled the seams apart, splitting the shirt into two before using one hand only to unclasp your bra this time. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t impressed by it everytime.

“I liked that shirt,” you pouted, “did you have to rip it?” “I’m sorry y/n,” he chuckled, hands snaking up your sides another time, “I just want you so badly.”

There was no time to react as your husband gripped your hips, spinning you around and pinning you into the mattress. His second attack followed impeccably, hands fumbling on your jeans before getting them undone, panties groped in unison as they hit the side wall. That was an irrelevant detail, because Chan was lying on his front, abs rubbing against your core as he brought his hands back to your tits; his most favorite thing in the world. The man could not keep his hands still, mouth slobbering all over the sensitive skin as he began his second attack of the day on your nipples. 

“Never gets old,” you giggle, a gentle moan following after at the contrast of your flimsy mounds and rock hard nubs. Chan’s hands felt like no other, and when he had them on you, it was the time when you felt like the luckiest woman in the world. Your husband’s chuckles followed closely to yours. Seeing his wife happy was one thing, but knowing that he could make you feel this good aroused him to another level. His admiration deepend, yes, but it was somewhat of an ego boost for him. Knowing that he was that good with his fingers. 

Your husband’s lips, like his hands, began to wander, a strip of wet kisses trailing down the center of your stomach, causing him to crawl back further and further until his lips were just above your core. Chan brought his fingers right back to where he had them in the car, easily able to slip in two fingers without warning, a deep groan gritting his teeth at the way your back arched for him monumentally. The sight was one that he had been craving, one that you craved yourself. It did not matter how far apart you were from your husband, his appetite for you would never change. If he wanted to be close, he wanted to be close. If he wanted to be far, well that was just simply not plausible. As much as he wanted to pleasure you, make you feel good, like the diligent role of a husband should be, it was the closeness that motivated him every time. Chan longed for these moments, especially since the introduction of your daughter restricted the ability to do so. At any possible moment, Chan would demand to do whatever he could to profess his love, and it was always done with his mouth; his tongue to be more specific. 

In this scenario, rather than speaking with tongue, it was sticking out of your husband’s lips, flattening as he dived in head first without hesitation, your hands automatically rummaging through the thick mound of curls that supported the top of his head. His tongue was heaven, spreading your pussy lips farther and farther apart and he used that ferocious organ to fiercely suck on your wanting nub. A monstrous moan escaped your lips at the contact, a gratifying humm coming from his throat at the way you tugged on his locks. Your eyes were barely open, unable to prevent yourself letting your eyelids dance back and forth from open to shut, mesmerized at the current view you had when hunching your neck to see. Chan could see the way you were desperate to view his fulfilling prophecy that was going down on his wife, making sure to lay his chest flat on your bed, ejecting his fingers from your cunt and hooking each forearm around each leg, compressing them into the mattress, giving you the perfect perspective of the combination that was his lips and tongue simultaneously pleasuring your aching core. If this was going to be the result after pining for each other for around 12 hours only, you would never think about it twice. 

“I love being married,” you whined, another humorous hum escaping your husband’s lips, “tongue feels so good.”

“Mmmh,” he mumbled, half of his face muffled in your pussy, “you taste so good.”

“What was that?”

He took away his tongue for a brief moment, looking you deep in the eye before repeating his statement.

“You taste so good.”

He didn’t want to take much time away from making you, his wife, feel good, let alone waste his breath on 3 words. His tongue snaked across your inner thigh, the organ licking a gentle strip up each leg before descending back onto your gushing pussy. The smile on your face at his works was impossible to wipe off, your moans through the pearly whites getting louder and louder at the same time with your core, the accumulation of your slick and Chan’s oral fluids contributing to the squelching sound that was bringing you closer and closer to peak arousal. His lust was simply one of trance and dedication. It genuinely could not be explained enough how much he loved seeing you like this, knowing that he was the one that was doing so. Your lips contorted, unable to keep the smile as your bite down on the skin below your bottom lip, harsh enough to leave a line of marks before you were sitting up, hands leaving his hair and dominating his face, palms spread across either side before pressing a kiss to his lips. Your nose crinkled, easily identifying the taste of you on his tongue before giving him one last look, eyes completely open as you crawled backwards on your elbows, left index fingers curling in a come hither motion. The invitation was simply too divine to resist. Your husband turned into a predator, jumping on top of you like he had just caught his prey. His moves were delicate, making sure to not crush you underneath him. His lips were itching to be on yours again, and the feelings were returned, tongue automatically parting his lips and dipping inside his wanting mouth as his hands left your figure for a brief moment, slipping the thin material down his legs and over his feet, fingertips, like magnets to his wife’s skin, straight back onto you. Your own hands were now back on your husband's body, fingernails digging into the large mound of muscles that was his upper back as his fully erect length pressed against your heat. A moan slipped out of your mouth and straight into his, causing him to pull away.

“Fuck you really missed me, didn’t you?”

His smirk was fucking priceless. So annoying, but it would just be a flat out lie if you said you were not attracted to it in the slightest. Cocky did not look good on most people, but it 100% suited your husband. Your nails buried themselves deeper into his flesh at his statement, a poor attempt at humbling him in the slightest as another moan fell from your lips as he began slightly rocking back and forth, the tip of his pre-cum soaked tip hitting your extremely sensitive nub. You went to open your mouth, a failing endeavor of speaking a sentence when the only thing coming out being sounds of pleasure.

“Don’t tease me Mr. Bang,” you mumbled in between each groan, bucking your hips to create a larger friction between your two bodies. Chan was getting impatient himself, but god, did he love to tease you. Your husband had no trouble making you orgasm over and over, he just had displeasure in making you cum so quickly. Your body was sensitive solely to him, even after all these years, it didn’t take much to get you there. Therefore, teasing you made the process so much more enjoyable. Watching you squirm was something that he really enjoyed. 

“Hmm Mrs. Bang,” he hummed, lifting his hips off of yours, one hand now wrapped around the base of him, “you’re so cute when you’re all hot and bothered.”

Your eyes formed into a squint, annoyed at how easily he was pinning you down, “stop playing games and fuck me. Preferably today before they get home.”

“Oh fuck,” Chan chuckled, prodding at your pussy hole with his length, “you’re right, let me get to business.”

It was funny when previously mentioned that Chan left to tease and see you squirm, because once his length was comforted by the strength of your tight walls, your husband was a mess. He couldn't help it. Your pussy, after being with you for so many years, molded exactly to the shape and maneuvers that Chan needed. He tried to maintain a slow pace, allowing for your cunt to stretch perfectly around him, wanting you to feel every inch of him; but it simply was too irresistible to resist. Chan wrapped his hands around your ankles, lifting your limbs in the air and stretching them as far as they could go before kneeling on his knees as he began to flat out pound your busy. His pace was not as fast no, by the velocity of the thrusts was truly toe curling. Your jaw dropped to the floor if it could, the bedhead surely denting the walls at the arms as each time his hope made contact with your contact, a large noise resembling a slap occurred. Your husband was usually not as rough, but it’s not that you’re complaining at all. It was rare that he would just throw you around like this, usually if he was frustrated or that you had been away. So really, you should have seen this coming. Maybe it was what provoked you to reply to his lustful text in such a similar manner; whatever you have been doing it was right seeing as he was making your pussy cry with arousal. 

Chan’s teeth sunk into your left calf, a string of large huffs and puffs escaping from his chest as he put all his mighty effort into each thrust, your husband breathing heavy at the combination of his force and pleasure he got from fucking you like that. His eyes ogled however, at how easily your tits bounced back and forth.

“Fuck,” you shouted, “s-so rough.”

“You like that?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, keeping your legs in the air as your pulled him by the neck, foreheads accidentally smashing foreheads together with a significant force, “you’re fucking me like you want to put another kid in me.”

“Maybe I do,” he grunted, pressing a kiss to your lips in between, “maybe I should put another kid in you.”

God the way he talks, especially like that, turns you on so much. Your hands now travel back to the familiar spot of his back, pulling his chest against yours as he picked up his pace, thrusts much smoother with rhythm as your eyes fluttered shut, head hitting the back of the pillow ad your husband relentlessly fucked your pussy. A deep breath blew from your lips, an insufficient try to maintain your composure as your husband refused to set a forgiving speed.

“Fuck your pussy,” he growled, unable to finish his sentence.

“Yeah baby?”

“Mine,” he huffed, his own eyes fluttering shut as he pinned your upper limbs next to your head, head dipping down back to your breasts, a ferociously lick on your left nipple before he continued, “Fuck I’ll fuck another fucking child into that fucking pussy if you want me to.” 

Chan became a menace when he reached his peak horniness, and during this timeline, that was right now. Anyone who met or knew Chan, as a well-respected friend, colleague, or even a stranger, knew that was one of the most polite people that you could possibly have the pleasure of meeting. Not one to swear, always use his manners and respect other people’s time and values. However, it was only you who got to see the truly feral side of him, like this, cursing his head off. It was only at this point did he forget that facade of a well-mannered gentleman. Chan was certainly not polite or gentlemen like when he fucked you, and it was a guilty pleasure of yours. It always aroused you to hear him say ‘fuck’, mumble a ‘motherfucker’ or ‘shit’ under his breath, even just in normal dialgoue. So when he said it during sex, it truly was one of the hottest fucking things your had ever seen. 

“Do it,” you mumbled, unable to use your full voice, “put a kid in me.”

“Really?”

His head snapped up immediately, lips moving back to your own, pecking you one more time, but with his eyebrows raised in surprise, “Are you being serious?”

“Yes,” you smiled, fingertips spreading across your husband’s cheeks, “you have my permission.”

“Oh fuck,” he grumbled, “you really shouldn’t have said that.”

Chan’s hands snuggled under your back, scooping you and placing you up right on him, cock still inside of you as he sat up himself, keeping you close to his torso as he scooched the end of the bed. He let out a groan as he stood up, hands trailing to your hips as began to bounce you. A new level of sound escaped your lips at the new angle he was hitting inside of your pussy. It was smart to keep your arms enclosed around his neck, head buried into his chest as he still managed to keep the same pace. You really didn’t know how much more of this you could handle; the pressure in your body was building. The pit of your stomach was making its way to your final high, and your muscles were tightening in conjunction. The room’s scent was full of sweat, but also passion. Sweet sweet passion and sweet sweet love filled the four nostrils in the room, bringing you even closer to the edge. 

“Chan?”

“Y/n, you okay baby?”

“I’m gonna cum baby,” you whined, “I'm gonna cum so hard.”

“Oh me fucking too baby,” he fritted through his jaw breaking teeth clench, “I’m about to blow so fucking hard.”

“Yeah?”

“All in this pussy,” he whined, placing you back down on the bed, “my pussy.”

“Mhm, all yours.”

Your husband kept your back arching off the edge of the bed, making sure that when let go of himself, that nothing but even a drop would drip out of your hole. His hips became erratic; you could tell that your husband would not last much longer. Not that you were far off either, but you know that the release of his seed would tip you over the edge. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, hard, “Y/n I’m so sorry I’m gonna cum first.”

“It’s ok,” you whined, “I need your seed inside of me so fucking badly.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” you clenched, eyes dark with lust as he kept his gaze on you, “put a fucking kid in me.”

“I fucking love my fucking wife so much,” he spat, jaw falling agape as his load exploded, the ropes of your husband’s orgasm roping over and over inside of you, “I fucking love you so much.”

“Fuck Chan,” you screamed, your own orgasm washing over and sending you into a haze, “it feels so good inside of me.”

Your whine was so attractive to Chan that he leant down to kiss you one more time, before withdrawing his aching cock, falling to your side in a heavy breath. He was quick to get back into action, however, falling off the bed and grabbing your ankles again, lifting them off the floor and onto the bed, ensuring that not a lick of his load would fall out. A fat giggle escaped from your lips when you watched him do so.

“Fuck you were serious about that kid hey?”

He was already gone, annoyingly leaving you by himself. He was quick to come back however, returning with a glass of water and a banana from the kitchen bench, handing over to you without a second thought. Your lips turned into a smile automatically, practically chugging the water down to quench your thirst before peeling the banana open. Your husband took his spot next to you, lying on his side as he watched you with admiration. All of a sudden you felt self-conscious, hesitating before putting your lips anywhere near the fruit.

“I’m starting to think you got this fruit for a particular reason.”

“No,” he chuckled, “just eat it.”

You looked away from him as your lips ‘accidentally’ slipped down the banana, much past where necessary to take a bite. You could see your husband's jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye as your motion.

“What,” you mumbled, mouth full of food, “you were asking for it.”

“Fuck your lucky that your daughter is going to be home soon.”

[rootedinrevisions]

In the Wings: Part 1

SUMMARY: When you're offered the chance to work as a hair and makeup artist on Top Gun 3, it feels like a dream come true. Leaving behind your routine for a Hollywood blockbuster, you arrive on set with high hopes but little expectation of the whirlwind to come. That all changes the day you meet Glen Powell—charming, grounded, and quick to make an impression. As your professional relationship grows, so does a spark between you, but you're still keeping things strictly work. For now, the only thing you're certain of is that this job will be like no other.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Anon who sent me this request and gave me the idea. I'm really hoping I can take your idea and do it justice. I think this will end up being around 4 parts. But if I feel like I need to make it longer or shorter I'll adjust as I finish revising it.

WARNINGS: None.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

TAG LIST: @omgbrianabomgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 I @saucy-sassy-sparkly  I  @alipap3  I  @dudinhastuff  I  @lunatygerqueen  I  @hookslove1592  I  @glenpowellluver  I  @missmarveledsblog

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

The email came through on a Wednesday afternoon, catching your attention amidst a relatively slow workday. The subject line read: “Film Contract Inquiry – Urgent Response Requested.” As you clicked it open, your curiosity piqued instantly. The production team was interested in hiring you as a hair and makeup artist for an upcoming film. But unlike most offers you’d received in your career, this one was cloaked in secrecy.

You scanned the email again, focusing on the specific wording. Top secret. No details were given about the film itself, just the fact that you would be based primarily in Southern California, near San Diego, for a total of twelve weeks. The cryptic message hinted that you might also be required to travel for a few additional shoots at other undisclosed locations if needed.

While these types of jobs were nothing new to you—you’d been working on movie sets for over a decade—this one had a different feel. 

For one, they didn’t even mention the title of the project. 

And the compensation offer attached to the email? Far beyond anything you’d ever been offered before. You leaned back in your chair, letting the numbers sink in. They clearly wanted the best for this film, and the pay confirmed it was going to be something big.

But how big? The secrecy surrounding the whole thing was hard to ignore. There wasn’t even a mention of the production company involved, and everything was handled through private communication channels. 

Not only that, but they'd already sent over a non-disclosure agreement for you to sign. Until the movie was officially released, you wouldn’t be able to discuss a single detail—not the actors, not the plot, not even the locations.

The NDA felt like a weight in your inbox, staring back at you as you reread the email for the third time. Something about this film was different, and it intrigued you. Whatever it was, it had to be major if they were going to these lengths to protect it. And with that thought in mind, you clicked “Reply” and began typing.

* * * *

The flight to San Diego was uneventful, and the California sunshine greeted you as soon as you stepped out of the terminal. You quickly spotted a driver holding a sign with your name on it. After introductions, you handed over the address they’d provided, ready for the next step of this mysterious journey.

As the car began weaving through the busy San Diego streets, you took in the sights—the familiar palm trees, the ocean in the distance, the hustle of a city on the coast. You’d worked in Southern California plenty of times, but something about this trip felt different. The secrecy still clung to you like a shadow.

The driver made small talk, but you were too focused on the location to fully engage. It wasn’t until you noticed the roads becoming less crowded, the landscape shifting from city to something more… official, that your curiosity spiked. Fences lined the road now, and you could see uniformed personnel at several checkpoints as the car continued.

A military base?

Your heart skipped a beat as realization dawned on you. You leaned forward, squinting out the window at the upcoming sign confirming your suspicion: Naval Air Station North Island.

The driver pulled up to the security gate, handing over the proper identification and passes. After a brief exchange with the guard, the car was waved through.

You sat back in your seat, processing. So, this film has something to do with the military. That narrowed it down, but not by much. There were plenty of military-themed movies out there, but none that warranted this level of secrecy. You thought back to the emails, still trying to piece together what kind of project could possibly be in the works.

The car came to a stop outside a large set of trailers tucked behind an aircraft hangar. Military personnel and crew members bustled around, a few actors you didn’t yet recognize standing in clusters nearby. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, but still, no one gave anything away.

The driver helped unload your bags, and you thanked him before making your way toward one of the trailers you’d been instructed to report to. A sense of unease mixed with anticipation settled in your chest. You were about to find out what all the mystery was about.

With your equipment in tow, you approached the door to the hair and makeup trailer, pausing just long enough to take a breath before stepping inside. Whatever you’d signed on for, you were about to find out—whether you were ready or not.

You stepped inside the trailer, greeted by the familiar scent of hairspray and cosmetics. The space was bustling with activity—mirrors lined with bright lights, makeup kits neatly arranged, and hair styling tools humming in the background. Three other stylists were already there, each at their own station, chatting quietly as they organized their gear.

You scanned the room for an empty spot, finding a vacant station near the back. The butterflies in your stomach settled as you began unpacking your kit, laying out your brushes, combs, and palettes with the same precision you did before any project. Your hands moved with a practiced ease, though your mind was still racing with questions about the film. You tried to brush it off as first-day nerves, but the secrecy of it all still gnawed at you.

A couple of minutes passed before one of the stylists, a brunette with sleek hair pulled into a tight ponytail, approached you with a friendly smile. “You must be the new hire for this project. I’m Katherine,” she said, extending a hand.

“Hi." You said as you gave her your name and shook her hand.

“Welcome! You’ll love this crew,” she said, gesturing to the others who were busy in their own areas. "We’re still settling into the schedule, but it’s a great team." She paused, lowering her voice slightly, “Though this project is next-level crazy, right? So much secrecy.”

You nodded, laughing softly. “I know, right? I’ve never had to sign so many NDAs before starting a job.”

Just as you were about to ask more, the door swung open, and a crew member entered, holding a stack of papers. He looked around before making his way toward you. “I’ve got your list of actors and the schedule for this week.”

“Thanks,” you said, accepting the documents from him.

He gave you a quick nod before heading out, leaving you alone with the list in hand. You glanced down, scanning the schedule you and the other hair and makeup artists would be following. Then you notice the names that are listed.

Tom Cruise. Miles Teller. Glen Powell.

Your eyes widened slightly as recognition hit. You’d heard those names before—especially from Top Gun: Maverick. You looked up from the paper, your heart picking up its pace again. Could it be?

Before you could process it further, you overheard one of the other stylists—Lily—speaking to Katherine in a hushed tone. "I think I saw Tom Cruise on set earlier. They’ve kept it under wraps, but... it’s definitely Top Gun 3."

Your breath caught in your throat. Top Gun 3.

It clicked. The secrecy. The military base. The list of actors. This wasn’t just some random movie set—it was one of the biggest sequels in recent history. You were part of Top Gun.

You tried to keep your face neutral, but inside you were buzzing with excitement. Top Gun 3. You had landed a job on one of the most anticipated movies ever. You looked back down at your list, realizing that you would be working with some of the biggest names in Hollywood over the next few weeks—one of them being Glen Powell.

Your mind raced as you processed it all, but you kept your cool. This was your job, and you needed to stay professional, no matter how starstruck you might be. You took a deep breath, refocused, and went back to setting up your station, knowing that your first day on Top Gun 3 was just beginning.

You were adjusting the lighting at your station when the trailer door creaked open again. You didn’t pay much attention at first, focusing on getting everything perfect for the day ahead. But then, you heard a familiar voice—a low, playful tone that filled the room with ease.

"Is this where the magic happens?"

You looked up, and there he was—Glen Powell, standing in the doorway with a laid-back smile on his face. He was taller than you expected, dressed in casual workout gear, his hair its natural shade, but you knew that wouldn’t last long. Your first task was to lighten Glen’s hair a few shades to look a little more naturally sun-faded than his darker natural color.

His eyes landed on you, and for a brief moment, there was a spark—an instant recognition of something unspoken.

"Yep, this is where we make the magic happen," you responded, grinning as you set your tools down.

Glen walked over to your station, his posture relaxed yet confident. “You must be the one in charge of turning me into Hangman 2.0.”

You chuckled, motioning for him to take a seat in the chair. “I guess I am. Ready to go a few shades lighter?”

He raised an eyebrow, taking a seat in the chair with a smirk. “Let’s see what you’ve got. I’m trusting you with my hair, so no pressure, right?”

“Oh, none at all,” you quipped, rolling your eyes playfully as you grabbed the bleach kit. “Just a couple of hours and we’ll make you camera-ready. Shouldn’t be too painful.”

The banter was light, but the chemistry between the two of you was undeniable. Even though this was your first time meeting, the interaction felt natural, as though you’d known each other for longer. Glen was easygoing, and you found yourself smiling more than you expected as you worked.

As you began sectioning off his hair, you asked, “So, are you nervous about going blond again? Or is this just another day in the life of Glen Powell?”

He leaned back in the chair, his grin widening. “I won’t lie, the last time I did this, I felt like I ended up looking like an extra from Legally Blonde. But hey, if you’re the one doing it, I’m sure it’ll turn out great.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I promise, no Legally Blonde vibes. Just a subtle lightning. You’ll still look like Hangman.”

Across the trailer, a few of the other makeup artists glanced over, their eyes darting between you and Glen, smiling knowingly. Sarah, one of the artists working on another actor, shot you a teasing look before leaning over to her client, Jay Ellis, who raised an eyebrow in Glen’s direction. You overheard a soft chuckle from Jay as Sarah whispered something.

Glen, oblivious to the side glances, watched you carefully as you applied the bleach, a casual silence settling between you for a few moments before he broke it again. “So, how’d you end up on this project? You’ve got to be pretty top-tier if they brought you onto Top Gun.”

You glanced at him, surprised at the question. "I've been in the business for a while. Special effects makeup is kind of my specialty, but I do all kinds of stuff. They contacted me about this job, and it was all very hush-hush until I got here."

He tilted his head, clearly impressed. "Well, looks like we’re in good hands.”

You felt a subtle warmth in your chest at the compliment, though you brushed it off quickly. “Just doing my job,” you replied, grabbing a small brush to touch up a few sections of his hair. “Anyway, you’ve got the easy part today. They’re filming inside, so minimal makeup. Just enough so you don’t look like a ghost on camera.”

He chuckled. “Don’t want to scare anyone off with my Casper-like complexion.”

As you continued working on his hair, the conversation flowed easily. You asked him about his last few projects, and he asked about yours in return, keeping the tone light and casual. There was something effortless about talking to him, and it made the time fly by faster than expected.

When the bleaching was done and his hair was the perfect shade of lighter blond, you gave it a final check in the mirror. “Well, what do you think?” you asked, turning the chair slightly so he could see the result.

He inspected his reflection, his eyes lighting up in approval. “I’ve got to say, you nailed it. No Elle Woods here.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “Told you.”

With his hair done, you moved on to the makeup—just enough to prevent any washout under the bright lights. It was quick and simple, a few strokes here and there, but even as you applied it, the easy conversation continued.

“You know,” Glen said suddenly, as you brushed a bit of powder on his face, “for someone working in Hollywood, you’re pretty laid back. I’ve had stylists who barely talk and are just all about the job, and then there’s you—who’s actually, you know, fun.”

You laughed softly at his words, feeling the compliment slip into the air between you. “Well, I try. I’ve learned that being chill makes the day go by smoother.”

He smirked, his gaze locking onto yours for just a beat too long. “Good policy.”

There it was again—something between you that neither of you acknowledged aloud, but it lingered, making the air feel slightly heavier in the best way. A moment passed, and you stepped back, finishing the last of his touch-ups.

“All done,” you said, stepping back to clean your brushes. “You’re officially camera-ready.”

He stood from the chair, taking a quick look in the mirror again. “Not bad at all. You’re good at this.”

“Thanks,” you replied, flashing a small smile. “Just don’t mess it up too much before they get you on camera.”

He chuckled, his eyes catching yours once more before he turned toward the door. “No promises.” And with that, he gave you a playful wink and left the trailer, leaving you with a slight smile lingering on your lips. 

As soon as the door closed behind him, Sarah leaned over with a knowing look. “Looks like you and Glen are gonna get along just fine.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. “It’s just work,” you said, though the butterflies in your stomach told a slightly different story.

Jay chimed in again, smirking. “Yeah, sure. But I’d say that was the most fun Glen’s had in a makeup chair in a long time.”

[minisugakoobies]

Mingyu 💞

💞 [ Reunion ] - A longing kiss shared after being apart for a while

This almost ended up being 1k 🤦‍♀️ I am sorry! But the 'gyu brainrot is REAL and it is STRONG 💕

**********

"You know, you didn't have to come."

You roll your eyes as Jeonghan repeats himself. True, your brother doesn’t really need any help picking up his friends from the airport, but you'd insisted on tagging along anyway.

"They're my friends, too," you declare.

"No, they're not." He glances at his watch, then shoots you a look. "You're not gonna be weird about this, right?"

You ignore him, choosing instead to focus your attention on the faces of the passengers now crowding around the luggage carousels, wishing you could brush aside the buzzing of your nerves just as easily as you shut out your brother's voice. The only thing weird right now is how excited you are to see your brother's annoying friends again. You've known Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu for ages.

It's been two months since the guys left for baseball spring training. Jeonghan normally would've been with them, but his broken ankle is keeping him benched this year. His incessant whining about being left behind made it a very long sixty days.

But the countdown is over. They're back. And you’re anxiously elated.

Because something changed in the few weeks leading up to their departure, between you and -

"Mingyu." His name falls from your lips as you spy him across the room. Even with his snapback pulled low on his face, you can see how his tanned skin glows, popping against his white tee. You bite back a sigh, wondering how it’s possible that he’s grown more gorgeous in just a few weeks. "I mean, I see the guys."

You lift your hand in a half point, half wave, and it catches Seungkwan’s attention, who then nudges Seungcheol, who in turn shoulder checks Mingyu. You feel the moment Mingyu’s eyes lock onto yours, stomach swooping like you’re in freefall when his lips lift in a soft smile.

You come crashing back down to earth as the other guys spot your brother. The regression is immediate, all four of them suddenly obnoxious teenagers again, with their secret handshakes and crushing bro hugs and unreasonably loud ballbusting. This is how they always say hello, so it doesn’t faze you one bit, though it does make quite a few of the other travelers standing around you glare.

Once they’ve finished their raucous greeting ritual, the luggage carousel begins to move, and all you get are a few quick head nods before the guys start pulling their bags off the conveyor belt. Your heart sinks a little.

Weird, don’t be weird, you think, plastering a blithe smile on your face and pretending to laugh as Seungcheol not so subtly trips Seungkwan with his roller suitcase. Maybe it was weird for you to expect more of a reaction from Mingyu. The two of you had only hung out a few times, a couple of casual dinners, some drinks, one movie, and then, the night before he left - 

Well, maybe it didn’t mean what you thought it did. The two of you had talked a little bit while he was gone, but never about anything serious. You suppose you could’ve asked him about it, but you knew he’d be busy with baseball, and maybe also you didn’t want to know. 

Your mind remains thusly occupied as you follow the guys out to your brother’s beat-up car. Jeonghan pops the trunk from the driver’s seat, using his now-healed ankle as an excuse to get out of helping them. Seungkwan and Seungcheol hastily toss their bags into the tiny space and clamber into the backseat, leaving Mingyu sighing in frustration.

“Thanks for the help, assholes.” 

“Here, let me,” you mutter, not quite looking Mingyu in the eye as you join him.

Together, the two of you rearrange the bags, trying to make everything fit. While the other guys sit in the car loudly fighting over where to grab lunch, you and Mingyu work quietly, in a comfortable silence. It makes you think that maybe it’ll be okay, if things go back to the way they always were before, even if your pulse still races the way around Mingyu the way it’s doing now. 

It’s not until the trunk closes that you finally meet his gaze. Mingyu smiles, that slow-spreading smile of his that makes you weak in the knees, and leans toward you, voice hushed as he speaks. “Sorry I didn’t get to give you a proper greeting earlier. Is it okay if I do now?” 

You’ve no idea what that means but your answer is, of course, yes, an emphatic head nod that makes Mingyu huff out a surprised (and pleased) laugh. His hands drop to your hips, shuffling you towards him just the slightest bit, and then he’s kissing you, lips moving against yours, slowly, longingly, like he’s been dreaming of this moment for two months and is bound and determined to make sure you feel it. 

Weird, how you’re surrounded by hundreds of strangers pouring out of the airport, and yet it feels like there’s no one else around. 

At least, not until your brother lays on the horn.

[giuseppe-yuki]

rancher!oscar piastri x reader headcanons

random headcannons for my fic come over, baby! (shameless promo 😔) *headcannons might not make total sense without reading aforementioned fic

the farm

after The Situation™, mama piastri is more than welcome of your presence at the family home

door has to be OPEN during the day though (she sends basil to guard the door)

you and hattie become besties and bond through bullying oscar <3

you hang out on their family farm during breaks from college so much nicole has assigned you chores to do as well

namely watering the garden and collecting the eggs in the early morning

oscar loves tagging along (only so he can take the chance to make out with you behind the chicken coop cause he can't when his sisters and his mother are in the house with y'all)

y'all are banned from the atv to travel around during morning chores because.. yeah.

when fall comes, apple picking in the family orchard!!!

although you may be a city girl, you know how to make a bomb apple pie

nicole makes cider :)

its nice to drink, curled up in oscar's bed with a classic movie illegally streamed on his laptop.

(most of the times, the movie doesn't get watched, anyways)

the apartment

your parents live in a fancy schmancy apartment in the city

they're always away on business trips or vacations so you basically have free reign to use the apartment when they're away

when you invite oscar for a "sleepover" in the apartment when your parents are in malibu for a random vacation, he gets excited at the prospect of seeing how you grew up in the city

baffled of your lack of backyard

no fresh eggs 💔 ? ?

"jesus christ, can the cars SHUT UP?" - oscar at 12am

he likes to watch the shiny supercars that sometimes pop up on the streets below rev their engines and zoom past your balcony

gets a little sick from looking down from a high height though, since the apartment is located near the 20th floor

"holy cow, do you think this is what being a cloud feels like??" - oscar leaning dangerously precariously off your balcony

college

when you both are not at oscar's house for break or your family apartment in the city, you both are at school

oscar studies engineering (duh)

since you study a whole nother field, you are located on the other side of the campus, which is kind of annoying

he likes to walk you to your classes even when that means he is going to be late to his own lectures.

(he knicks the notes off of his mate lando, anyways)

commonly sends you stupid videos in the middle of your lectures

often takes you out for lunch in his banged-up weird-orange pick-up truck that most likely has engine problems

study sessions in the library!! (he gets overwhelmed by your flashcards and you almost cry looking at his physics problems)

when essays are written and worksheets filled out, you sleep at oscar's dorm (the RAs in your female-only dorm crash out if they find out - god forbid - a boy is in your room)

oscar likes kicking his poor roomie (lando) out for a few hours when y'all get more intimate lmaoooo

a/n: lil headcannons to fill in the time while i work on my full fics :)

as always, my inbox is open to all your thoughts, headcannons, or questions for any of my works! (no fic requests please!)

[pinwheel-plant]

more 21st century au for u ft. frosted tips tannen

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

I saw this edit on Pinterest..... do what you want with this but I was literally freaking out on this part. I wanted to see if it's possible to write something based off this .. *look.* Maybe the reader just constantly likes to tease Hiccup but one day he just had it and just did ... The look. I would be flabbergasted. <3

Thistle, Scout and Scottish Bluebells

Pairing: Grumpy!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 2094

Things don’t happen the way they’re supposed to. The universe sends you to compensate.

Tags:  httyd 1, aged up, au, time travel

Next>

 The sounds of rustling ferns and the ends of pine trees larger than you’d ever seen them, of crackling twigs and wind whistling past fauna and over dirt made its way inside past thin wooden walls and through large cracks in between shuttered window sills and other things.

You sat, knees touching, head resting over folded arms. The chair below you was slightly wobbly, the table beneath your hands uneven.

You listened to the sound of gently sloshing water, watching as boxy, freckled hands dipped unevenly fired and sealed clay into an old, scratched bucket. One of the bucket’s handle’s hinges was broken and the metal bars holding it together were discolored in many places, scratched and dented in others.

A man crouched before the table on the side opposite to you by the door, donning a long, old worn tunic in green. It’d been torn and hastily sewn back together many, many times. That much was obvious.

“...And you have no idea how you got here.” He grumbled. He was crouched along packed dirt floors, wiping cribs and washing leftover bits of stew off your one shared plate.

He boasted a head of slightly fluffy hair, verging on auburn. It usually looked much darker, but he’d washed it recently, though ‘washing’ was a particularly strong word for whatever it was he’d done, going over it with a slightly damp cloth and ridding it of the thick oils and soot it’d worn like dressing.

“None at all.” You responded, the same way you’d been saying it for the past… However long you’d been here. The words spilled awkwardly from your mouth, tongue running over unfamiliar vowels and deeper tones.

Honestly, you missed home. You missed the convenience of a washing machine, for both dishes and otherwise. You missed the way the sun felt on your face, the way the sidewalk felt beneath your feet, the sound of people moving about, the sound of cars, the way paper felt beneath pen and the way the world sounded when it wasn’t filled with the constant sound of war, animals bleating and screaming and great, scaled beast letting out fervent death-cries and the dwindling numbers of a miserable warrior people.

“Any idea how to get you back?” Hiccup asked from the floor. He wasn’t near as quirky as he had been in the first movie, but that was just as well. He was a teen, then. He was a man, now.

“Nope!” You said, voice bordering on mischievous. As you spoke, something quite melancholy made itself known somewhere deep and sensitive. You made efforts to suppress it.

You weren’t lying when you said you weren’t sure how you’d gotten here. You were lucky, you guessed, that you’d been found by who you had been... Or maybe it was that you had been unlucky. 

You weren’t sure yet.

You thought he probably appreciated the company- or he detested it. It could go either way, really. Regardless, he never kicked you out.

“You… You’re....” He started, grumbling, “The worst.”

You heard the sound of drizzling water, watching small drops hit the bucket again as he stood, sighing.

“Says you.” You rolled your eyes. “Hiding away in the woods like a, ah, a hermit.”

“I was never this annoying.” He kept on grumbling.

The ‘he’ in question was your host. This was his shack, technically. His own miserable fortress of solitude.

You hadn’t… You hadn’t really figured out how to say his name, yet. Not in Norse. It was only the two of you here, see, which didn’t give you many opportunities to learn, even as you went romping around the village. 

It hadn’t posed a problem yet- it was mostly just the two of you, and so all you really needed to address him was ‘you.’

“You probably weren’t.” You shot back. “Maybe.”

It was mostly supposition, half based on what you saw and mostly gleaned from what little of the first movie you could remember. 

You weren't that close. You’d had maybe one or two conversations, some serious talks about life and other things that had only been half understood, at least by you. Now, whatever acquaintanceship had grown in the silence between you two as you struggled to learn more about Berk had dampened slightly as you’d begun pestering him.

You kept your arms carefully positioned over crinkled treatise, fingers gripping the edge of one splayed piece of cloth off to the side.

You were careful not to smudge the charcoal marrying each page, though your efforts were probably all for naught. Charcoal was a flakey medium, and your sticks had been perhaps left in the fires for much too long.

Perhaps too tired to say much else, he grunted and looked away, shaking his head slightly. 

You knew you were wearing his already thin patience even thinner.

“I want to shoot down a dragon.” You said, lifting your head and leaning it against your hand.

You’d been asking for a while now.

It was stupid, to keep pushing and pushing and pushing this way. You kept doing it anyway.

“Hand me the rag.” He said without looking at you, holding out one hand.

His hands were littered with scars, small and medium, from a life spent working in the forge. They dusted his knuckles, lying in wait in between and around patches of small freckles and moles and little croppings of baby hairs.

You’d never felt them either casually by accident, nor did you intend to, but still, his palms looked both rough and nice-to-the touch.

You shifted your elbows over your papers, slightly jostling your notes and resting your weight against a cleanly sealed note. The rough face of the cloth was scratchy against your thumb. “If it will lead me closer to dragon-shooting-”

“For just a moment, can you-” Your host stopped himself, gritting his teeth and looking you in the eye.

He had a nice pair of forest green eyes and tapering brows, moles and freckles scattering his cheeks. His face was slightly red from the sun, something which lasted the whole summer months, growing as the sun got brighter and staying throughout the colder nights. 

His chin was lined with a hearty dusting of fuzzy, peachy hairs.

His shoulders were set wide, mouth slightly handing open, as if to expel the force of all of his annoyance from his slitted open mouth, his head tilted downwards with a glint in his eye that might have looked menacing on any other person but only just looked a measure exasperated on him.

 He stared into your eyes, looking at you sideways for a very, very long moment. 

In that expression, you could almost see the shadow of the man he was supposed to have been; perceptive, determined, and a few other things, too.

Right now, those were the eyes of a man who knew exactly what you were doing

You kept your face resolutely blank.

“Help me shoot it.” You responded stiffly.

All in a moment, the man you saw was gone.

If you really thought about it, you might say that whatever spirit he’d once had had been killed a long time before you’d met him.

His brows were almost perpetually furrowed, his eyes weary, the lines under his eyes prominent, mouth stuck drooping. 

His shoulders were almost always dipped, too. If he wasn’t slouching, his shoulders were at a most imperceptible incline.  

While his face was not nearly wrinkled enough to be easily mistaken for the Chief, he looked a great deal older than twenty. He looked like his father- or, what you could remember of his father.

The darkness of the shack and the waning, settling light from the outside made it all look that much more severe.

“You’re not being serious.” With cinched brows, he looked at you as if to ask, ‘Are we really going to keep playing around like this?’

The answer was, ‘Yes-’ as long as the Night Fury remained in the sky and as long as your own project -the one hidden out back by his poor excuse for a well and hand-water pump- was in pieces, you felt quite obligated to keep going. 

“...No.” Your host finished, finally.

He looked down pointedly as you pulled your feet closer to you, heels just missing your chair’s legs as they came to rest before the pile of junk you’d hastily hid underneath. 

You dipped your head back towards your arms, miming bashfulness, though you didn’t feel too bad at having been caught. Stubbornly, petulantly, you continued on; “Why not?”

“Because-” He started, grimacing deeply.

You raised a brow, half expecting him to give up- to go silent.

“Because I said so.” He ended firmly, emotively.

“No.” You said, stubbornly.

“You’re- we’re doing this now?”

“As long as we need to,” You paused, “Until you help me shoot down a dragon.”

“You can just go and do it.” He snapped.

You didn’t mind it. You didn’t intend to stop, even if you drove him crazy.

You could be as crazy as you wanted here. You could run around naked, screaming in tongues and It’s not as if anyone would listen. Your words held no merit. The people were busy and you were just… not a member of society.

 You tried talking to people, once. People other than Him. They’d probably assumed you had brain damage. 

Honestly, you very well could have. When you’d woken up, your head had been aching pretty bad. 

Maybe this was all just an illusion and you really were still back in the real world, probably wandering around the streets, homeless, or locked up in a hospital or a mental facility somewhere, talking nonsense about Dragons and wanting to go home.

Wouldn’t that be a hoot?

There was also a very small part of you that didn’t want to say anything to these people. Really, you didn’t trust your host any farther than you could throw him. 

You hardly knew him.

“I need you to do it.” You insisted. Truthfully, you felt encouraged.

This was probably the most you’d heard from him. Ever.

You might have heard more if you’d spoken to him more, but to be fair, a man of little words attracted very little conversation to himself. Despite what you’d heard, he wasn’t… He wasn’t an easy conversationalist.

“Then you’re not going to be the one shooting down a dragon.”

“So, will you do it?”

He didn’t respond, shaking his head slightly, less so as if he was telling you no and more so as a general expression of his disapproval and of his frustration.

You tapped your finger against wood and paper, feeling at thick, packed paper ends.

It was time for a change of tactics.

“There was, uhm, a missive.” You said, “Someone delivered it while you were out. I think it’s from your dad. It says…”

Dried pulp felt rough against your hands, the wax seal clumsy and easy to peel apart as you unfolded the note. 

You wondered if opening someone else’s mail here was illegal. Hopefully you wouldn’t be arrested… Or thrown into the dungeons, or anything else. Beheaded, maybe?

You resisted the urge to snort.

You made a show of opening it and reading it, which was bullshit and you both knew it because you couldn’t read old norse. You kept your expression still, voice as serious as you could make it, “It says you have to help me shoot down a dragon.”

“No, it does not.” The man hunched for just a moment before turning back around quite abruptly, “Give me- Give me that.”

He reached over the table, snatching it from your hands.

“What does it say?” You asked curiously.

He shot you a look.

“...I think I’d rather shoot down a dragon.”

“So are we-” You tried again, feeling some sort of joy shoot its way up your chest and burst into a million little adrenaline-filled pieces.

You needed him to agree. Now, preferably.

You didn’t know why you were here. What you did know was what the movies told you and, well, you had two eyes, you could tell, quite obviously, that things had not happened the way you’d been told.

It was a one-plus-one sort of situation; a bunch of half-assed guessing and clumsy hoping, but you worked with what you knew. Maybe, if you made things right, then you’d finally be allowed back home from wherever this was. 

“No.”

You huffed. Instead of Hiccup the Useless, his name really should have been Horrendous the Stubborn.

You’d wear him down eventually.

[thoughtidtry]

Mr. Perfectly Fine - MV CL

SUMMARY: Angst: After your break up you take time to reflect on the man you once thought hung the stars. Who knew another would help you find the beauty in the stars as they fell. PAIRING: Ex!Max Verstappen X fem!reader, Charles Leclerc x reader at the end. A/N: Inspired by Mr. Perfectly Fine by Taylor Swift. Experimenting with formatting so please let me know if it helps with reading! 2.8k+ words... I apparently can't write anything smaller let me know if you all would rather have it in thousand-word parts instead of one long post!

"Mr. "Perfect Face" Mr. "Here to stay""

"You're so beautiful liefje"

Max hummed in the crook of your neck as you lay back on his chest while watching a movie. These moments were your favorite, the quiet murmurs, and gentle touches while enjoying each other company. The times when you had him all to yourself with no cameras or teammates looking at you both.

"Look who's talking pretty boy"

You responded back with a playful smirk knowing he hated being called pretty.

"Only pretty liefde really. I'm offended"

All you could do was giggle before looking back at your boyfriend to find him clutching his chest like you would imagine an old lady clutching her pearls.

"Oh I'm so sorry, I didn't know being pretty was a bad thing now"

Faking an innocent look as you apologized for your disrespectful comment. You wanted to see how far you could tease before he reacted. Already he looked like he was mulling over whether or not to accept you heartfelt apology.

"Of course pretty could never fully articulate how a face as perfect as your looks. I again am so sorry for the offen-"

"Oh that's it!"

You were interrupted by being picked up and tossed on the couch beside him before he was on top of you looking done. With a smug smirk on his face, he pinned your hands above your head with one hand before starting to tickle you with the other.

"You gonna really apologize now"

You couldn't help but laugh as he poked and squeezed your sides till you were gasping for breath. His laughter echoed in your ears as he continued to torture you.

"I-I'm sorry p-please max"

You finally gasped out and he stopped still chuckling before leaning down to peck your lip quickly.

"That's what I thought"

He declared with a look of triumph on if face. You study his face for a moment with a soft smile before you glance over to see you already looking at him.

"What, liefde?"

Max questioned, his eyes filled with curiosity. You shrugged before answer as if it was the most common phrase ever spoke.

"I just wish we could stay like this forever. Here. Just the two of us."

He softly smiled back at you taking in how relaxed and angelic you looked in the soft glow of the TV.

"Well, I don't plan on going anywhere without you. I'm here to stay as long as you'll have me."

"Mr. "Change of heart" Mr. "Leaves me all alone""

You had never minded Max having to travel to races it was a part of his job. He used to love you tagging along with him to the races, being in the paddock with all the other girlfriends and wives of the other racers, and going back to the hotel with him after to help him relax after a long day. It made sense that you wouldn't be at every race but recently it seemed like he didn't want you there at all.

There was always some last-minute reason he needed to be at the track days before free practice started and you couldn't get off work in time before he had to leave. Trips started to become longer and longer to the point he was never home. You tried your best to understand but you missed him.

You talk on the phone when possible but they were always short. He always had an excuse why he had to go. The engineers needed to talk to him about the car, Checo was waiting on him for a video, or he had made plans to hang out with one of the other drivers.

"Mr. "Never had to see me cry" Mr. "Insincere apology so he doesn't look like the bad guy""

At some point, you stopped trying to call him and just resorted to texting him. His responses were few and hours apart with a made-up reason why he hadn't answered. You were beginning to lose hope when your phone rang one day. The excitement in your voice was evident when answering the call.

"Hey Max, how's the race going?" He sighed in annoyance that you even asked. "Yeah it's fine, look we need to talk" You took a step back at his tone. He was cold or maybe even angry. This wasn't like him at all at least not the side of him you knew. "O-okay yeah. What's up? Everything alright?" You were panicking a little worried something bad had happened. Was he hurt? Did something happen at the track? "Look I just don't think this is really working out. I think we should end things." You froze in shock, this had to be a joke right? He did just say that. All you could get out was a whisper like your voice had been stolen and tears started to well up in your eyes. "W-What?" Another sigh came from his side of the phone. As if this was becoming a more tedious conversation than he had planned. "We just aren't the same anymore you know. I'm sorry, I need someone less clingy, someone who understands what I do for a living." There was a pause as you heard another voice before he continued "I got to go, Christian wants to talk about something. I'll send you any stuff you left in my apartment when I get back. Bye."

"Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl. I've been picking up my heart, he's been picking up her"

The last few weeks had been nothing but painful. Ever since the break up you've had several people calling and texting you. From the girlfriends and wives you used to spend time with in the paddock check to see if you're okay to random acquaintances wanting to hear all the dirty details. It made you sick thinking about that call, you thought that would be the worst of it until you got a text from Charles Leclerc.

At first, you thought he was just another person trying to figure out what had happened. You had spoken to him multiple times and were able to joke around with each other before everything happened but you weren't surprised. At least you weren't until you opened up the messages.

Hey, I know you probably want to be left alone, but I don't want you to get blindsided by seeing later. Max is seeing someone else. None of us knew until yesterday when he brought her to the paddock and started introducing her to everyone. I just wanted to let you know instead of you finding out through the media.

All the healing you thought you had done crumbled like a house of cards. The tears started to fall before you even got to read the last message. It hadn't even been a full month. How could he have moved on so fast? Through tear-blurred gaze you decided to respond to Charles.

Thank you for letting me know.... I appreciate your honesty. You're right I would like to be left alone. I'm glad to have met you and everyone else, but I can't keep talking to you all. It hurts too much, too many memories. Hope you have a great race, Charles..... Thank you again.

Charles felt a pang of guilt reading those messages. You had always been kind to him and seemed to care a lot about everyone you came in contact with. He felt angry at Max on your behalf and wanted to help you in any way possible.

You are an amazing person chérie. I know you want to be alone but I can't abide by your wishes. Please let me be there for you. We don't have to talk about anything in particular, just tell me about your day or we can talk about our hobbies. Just let me be here for you, please?

It took you a moment before responding to the process. Charles wasn't a bad guy from what you knew of him. You had been isolating yourself from everyone the last couple of weeks not wanting to talk about everything. Maybe having someone to talk to about normal life would be nice? A sigh of defeat left as you messaged him back.

okay.... so what do like to do in your free time?

Charles softly smiles at your message. It was a start and he'll take it. He responded back quickly telling you about how he likes playing the piano and how he had released a few songs. This was a pleasant surprise for you and you told him you listen to them.

"Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins" So far above me in every sense."

The end of the racing season came quicker than you could have imagined. You and Charles had become closer than you had ever expected. He was there for you to cry to and laugh with and as your heart mended he filled in the cracks still seeping sorrow with his own love and compassion.

Sitting on a stool in his kitchen while he tried to cook you dinner, you couldn't help teasing him for his terrible cooking skills. He mocked you back at how inept you were when it came to baking. The conversation lulled as he began to focus on not burning the food before he hesitantly brought up the award ceremony. "If it's too soon I understand, but I would love for you to be my date."

You took a moment to consider the proposition. As long as you were in Charles' life Max would be in yours. You knew you would have to see him sooner or later, so why not now? With your decision made you smiled a bit.

"I would love to be your date, Charles. This is your night to celebrate a great season. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

The night arrived sooner than you had anticipated and there you were walking on Charles' arm in a velvet red dress looking in his words like an angel. You held the compliment close as you made your entrance together.

Friends and acquaintances were rightfully shocked at your attendance. They quickly came to hug you and let you know how happy they were to see you before you all were seated for the ceremony. It felt good to be around everyone again, you had missed them. Missed the funny moments and heartfelt chats. The night seemed to be shaping up to a great time.

Max made a speech when accepting his WDC trophy. He made sure to thank a woman named Kelly, who you assumed was his girlfriend, along with the normal thank you to his team.

He seemed so calm, relaxed, and perfectly fine. It had only been a few months, how could you still be recovering while he was at ease. You felt so small and lowly at that moment, looking up at him at the top of his career.

Charles, of course, noticed like he always did and grabbed your hand in his with a soft squeeze before running his thumb across your knuckles. Once the ceremony ended, the people who had not noticed you before came to say hello while others said their goodbyes.

"Now I'm Ms. "Gonna be alright someday" and someday, maybe you'll miss me. But by then, you’ll be Mr. “Too late”."

Max stood near the front smiling as he talked to some of the other racers. He was dressed in a simple black suit with a bow tie to match and a beautiful woman on his arm. You could see why he liked her, she was gorgeous and seemed to fit perfectly beside him. As the commotion around your appearance began to reach an all-time high, he looked to see who it was about.

Never did he expect to see you, in a criminally perfect red dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, hanging on to none other than Charles Leclerc. He couldn't have stopped himself from staring if he wanted to. You looked amazing and he could tell you smile was genuine.

The sharp sting of past memories hit him as he studied your body language. So open, warm, and cheerful as you spoke you Lily, he realized how much he had missed you. Once your eyes locked it was over, your grip on Charles' arms tightened as Max strides forward completely leaving his girlfriend behind.

Charles noticed your discomfort, immediately following your gaze. He thought something might happen, Max would never just let you attend without having something to say. Looking down while shaking his head, he swore so quietly you barely heard before leaning close to your ear.

"Let me know if you want to leave. It's okay if you don't wanna talk to him."

Looking up at him, you softly smiled at how empathetic he was about your feelings. The worry in his eyes was evident but you had prepared for this. Resting a hand on his chest you shook your head.

"No, it's okay. Let's just get it over with and have a great night."

“Goodbye, Mr. “Casually Cruel”, Mr. “Everything revolves around you”.”

Max's blood boiled as he watched you touching Charles. How did you even know him? You had barely spoken to the Ferrari driver during your relationship. When did you get so close to him? He would find out soon enough as he drew closer.

"Charles" He nodded to the driver after coming to a stop in front of the pair before glancing over at you.

"What are you doing here Leifde"

He hadn't meant for that to come out but it still felt natural to call you that even after all this time. It sent a surge of anger through you to have him call you that again.

"I'm not your Leifde anymore Max. You lost the right to call me that. Would hate for your girlfriend to hear you."

You sneered back like venom making it clear you did not appreciate the name. He smirks at your reaction, loving that he still has an effect on you. Turning to look back at Charles he decided to try and get a raise out of him. After all, he's the reason your here right.

"What couldn't find your own date so you settled for my ex?"

Charles' composure snapped at that. How dare Max speak about you in such a disrespectful manner. You, even on your worst nights, couldn't say a negative comment about this man and here he was acting like you were damaged goods. He went to step forward and get in Max's face when you held him back getting in between the two placing both hands on his chest. Looking up at him, hoping he would understand what you were planning to do.

"He's not worth it, amour."

You loudly spoke the last word to get Charles' attention. He snapped his head down to you at the sound of his native language on your tongue. With a cheeky smirk on your face, you lean up to whisper in his ear.

"Please just play along."

There was a hint of mischief he caught in your eye as you moved one hand slowly up to the back of his neck.

"Mon chéri, let's just go home. I wanna slip into something more...comfortable"

Not only did this make the Dutchman scoff from behind you but also stormed off mumbling something under his breath. Charles can’t take his eyes off you, not when had just hinted at being a couple to get Max to leave. He didn’t mind it. If he was honest, he had actually enjoyed the way it felt to have you holding on to him all night. You let out a sigh of relief once he was gonna looking back up at Charles. Taking a small step away you started to apologize before being cut off.

“Come on ma belle fille, let’s get you home.”

Charles smiled a sweet smile grabbing your hand to usher you out of the room.

“Goodbye, Mr. “Perfectly Fine”.”

As you and Charles arrived at your house, he broke the comfortable silence of the driver. He looked like at scolded puppy as he began to talk.

“I’m glad you came with me tonight. Sorry I almost lost my cool at the end there.”

You snicker a bit before hanging him a half shrug.

“Honestly, it felt great to put Max in his place so thank you.”

He chuckled a bit in response while shaking his head slightly. Max was an idiot for losing you and Charles wasn’t gonna make the same mistake.

“Glad you had a good night Cheri. I know this might be too soon but could I possibly take you on a date? “

He pause hesitantly before continuing to ramble on

“If it’s too soon I completely understand but I couldn’t let my chance to show you how much I liked you pass without at least-“

You cut him off by grabbing his face, pulling him in for a kiss. At first, the shock of you kissing him caused him to freeze but he quickly recovered, kissing you back with so much passion that you were left speechless. Smiling as you both pulled apart, he had to be certain.

“So, is that a yes?”

You threw you head back laughing before confirming.

“Yes Charles, I would love to go on a date with you.”

[ghosty-writes-23]

RE2R!Zombie!Leon Headcanons.

!TAGS!: Pure Fluff, tiny bit of angst at the start, No NSFW Content, Leon being blissfully unaware of things.

Ghosty's Notes: These headcanons came from a one-shot I wanted to write a while ago but never got around to actually writing, I feel if Leon was a zombie be would be a mix of Wall-e from the Disney Pixar movie and R from the movie Warm bodies, innocent and caring but determined with a good heart.

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

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Leon was an undercover police officer investigating the umbrella corporation, but sadly he would find himself being betrayed by the people he thought he could trust, and his team mates as he became part of umbrella’s experiments turning him into a zombie causing an outbreak.

Decomposition had been a lot kinder to Leon, his uniform was slightly soaked in blood, some of it was human but mostly his own, he had some open wounds on his shoulders, chest and back they had stopped bleeding but remained opened as he didn’t heal, cuts and bruises littered his face, he made a makeshift muzzle to put over his mouth to prevent him from biting anybody.

Your first interaction with him is in the RPD underground car park, you had injured your leg and now were stumbling into the car park as you could hear the howl of zombie dogs chasing you. Feeling as if you want to give up a cold hand tugged you down by a car, when you looked at who had pulled you down you were met by a pair of cloudy blues eyes that had a dead but curious look to them.

At first you were terrfied thinking he was going to bite and infect you and before you could think your survivor instincts kicked in and you grabbed the knife from your boot and plunged it into his chest, in that moment you froze, in shock and fear not believing you had just done that.

Once you released the handle the zombie looked at you almost sadly before he reached to his chest and pulled the blade out and wiped the dark blood off onto his gloved hand, you looked at him as you started to feel guilty, was it because he didn’t attack you first?

You felt his gloved hand on your cheek and slowly travel down your jawline and your neck, to the top of your shirt the dark blood on his glove smearing into your skin, then he leaned in with his nose brushing it against your neck, you held your breath for a second, he grunted softy before he grabbed your hand and stood up and gently tugged you along with him, at this point you had no option but to follow him.

He took you to what looked like looked like an art room, it was on the second floor of the RPD, it was a small room with a statue and other art pieces, it was cozy and would have to do for the night.

The zombie that brought you here keep guard all night, he sat by the door as if he was trying to protect you and prevent anything from entering.

After that day the zombie followed you around like a puppy, when he isn’t out exploring on his own, he was your shadow and you were NOT allowed to go anywhere without him.

After staying in the RPD art room for 2 days you decided to take off your now pet zombies muzzle, since he just looked uncomfortable, he didn’t try to fight you as your fingers delicately unbuckled the strap and let the metal fall to the floor.

But when you took the muzzle off you heard something that shocked you to your very core. “Keep-You-Safe.” You heard quietly, almost as if your mind was playing tricks on you, his voice was raspy and strand as if he was forcing the words out, but you were in shock.

!ZOMBIES DON’T TALK!

With this new information you found out your zombie’s name was Leon, and he could only speak 3 words at a time, he spoke very slowly and his voice never got louder than a whisper, but you were just in disbelief that he could actually talk.

With his curious nature you had to tie something around his wrist to prevent him from walking off to explore as you have lost him a few times in the RPD.

He likes to help you anyway possible; he just wants to be useful and helpful.

He likes to bring you gifts that he thinks will be useful, like times he brings you things such as bullets, keys, and medical supplies while another time he brought you a shinny rock that was in the shape of a heart from his outdoor adventures. (Much like a penguin)

Some gifts he will give you: Shinny Rocks, Dead Flowers, and anything else he can find that he thinks you will like.

He broke the glass of the vending machine outside the west office on the first floor so you could have something to eat.

Your always having one sided conversation but you know Leon is listening by the way he looks at you, or tilts his head like a puppy when he doesn't understand something, which you don't mind explaining something to him in more detail.

Lets be real, he is the reason you survive the apocalypses.

Happy Ending: With some makeup and somewhat clean cloths you were able to smuggle Leon out of Raccoon city without being detected, but now you had a new mission to find either the scientist that created the virus that infected him or a scientist that could cure him, as you were determined to try and cure Leon to pay him back for protect you in Raccoon city.

Angst Ending: The US government discover Leon's existence and without hesitation he is executed to prevent another outbreak despite your begging and pleading trying to make them see he is different from any other zombie.

He would be willing to sacrifice what little time he has left (his life) if it meant you got out safely.

Be patient he is a little slow.

Y/n watching Leon trying to open a door:

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!One-shot Coming This Month!:

Let Me Be Your Inspiration. - DI!Husband!Leon + Writer!Fem!Reader. "Let Me Be Your Inspiration Doll."

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[goldenbuckyyy]

IT’LL BE OKAY

Summary: After your Halloween hookup with Eddie Munson, it never really ended from there. Now it’s Valentine’s Day.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Word count: 6.3kish

Warnings: SMUT (!!), oral (f!&m! receiving), vaginal fingering, raw sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, cream pie, making out, dry humping, some angst, crying.. anything else?! Let me know!!

A/N: I had been wanting to write some Eddie for a while now and a lot of people loved part 1! So, decided to write another part to it! I had originally wanted to post it on Feb. 14, but as always.. life and work happens!! So, hopefully you all enjoy. 🥹 I’m tagging whoever asked to be tagging in the first part! Song title inspo: “It’ll be okay” by Shawn Mendes.

All mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other side nor this one. 

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions. Please message me your thoughts! Love reading them. 🫶🏻

Part 1 | Main Masterlist

Eddie usually hated Valentine’s Day. 

He hated the whole pink and red hearts vibes, the way the word “love” was splattered on every open surface, and the way he would see couples left and right. 

He had never celebrated Valentine’s Day with someone. Not in his eighteen years of life. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever even had sex on Valentine’s Day either. 

Maybe that’s why he hates it so much. 

But, man… you love Valentine’s Day. 

You never specifically said it out loud, but he knew you loved it. 

You loved pink hearts and your clothing sure showed it. You had cardigans with hearts all over them, you had a bag in a heart shape, you’d draw hearts all over him and his tattoos when you guys would lay down naked in bed, and he loved the way you looked lately as you walked down the decorated halls of Hawkins High School. 

He loved seeing your wide smile as you admired all the decorations, the way you’d reach out to touch them with your fingertips with your bright red painted nails, and he especially loved the way he noticed your cheeks blush when someone would ask you who you were going to spend your Valentine’s Day with. 

You’d blow off the question with a laugh and a shrug knowing damn well you had already said no to over a million of guys who had asked you out. 

And when your friends weren’t looking, your eyes would slowly travel to where Eddie was. Where he always was. Leaning against his lockers that were across from you, he was surrounded by his friends, and your eyes would lock with his. 

You’d blush every single time you noticed that he was already looking at you. You’d get flustered and proceed to look away with a shy smile on your lips. 

Eddie wondered how you were the same girl he fucked recklessly in that bathroom at Kassidy Norway’s house that Halloween night. 

That night lived in Eddie’s thoughts for ages. Shit, it still does most nights. 

Nowadays, Eddie had wayyyy more images than he ever thought he’d ever get a chance to see. He was a lucky, very lucky, man. 

He’s seen every inch of you. He knows every inch of you. 

He’s also seen you bent down against a wall in the back of the old movie theater. An image of your skirt bundle up over your ass and your panties shoved to the side flash in his thoughts. 

He’s seen you down on your knees, peebles scraping the skin around them, because you couldn’t wait to get into the car to get him in your mouth. The way you moaned as he fucked your mouth with his cock and the way you shoved your fingers inside your panties to touch yourself. 

He’s seen you spread out in the back of his van, naked as the day you were born, and completely blissful. The way you’d lay out after he’d fuck you would send him chills. He’d fuck you anyway you liked it. Anything you asked of him, he’d do. 

He’s seen you bouncing on his thighs, sitting on his face, riding his fingers, legs behind your head, back arched with your ass up, and Eddie’s pretty sure he’s sporting a semi right now as he thinks about all of this. 

Eddie smiles once you wave bye to your friends and that’s his cue to do the same. He tells the guys he’ll see them later and he strolls towards you. 

You spot him walking towards you and you smile lazily. 

The same smile you wore last night when he dropped you off at your house after some mind blowing sex and some deep talk at his trailer. And maybe a little dancing in your underwear on his bed as he played his guitar. 

He always had fun when he was with you. 

“Hi,” you say with a hip tilt and batting your eyelashes. Your fingertips reach toward his face to push his curls behind his ears. 

“You don’t gotta do all that for me, sweetheart. You already got me wrapped around this,” he grips your hand in his and bites your index finger with a smirk, “little finger.” 

You roll your eyes as he reaches for your bag and proceeds to hold your stuff while he walks you to class. 

Eddie indulges you on whatever topic of the day, giving his input when needed, and then you’re outside of your home room. 

You smile as Eddie hands you your bag and you both look at each other sheepishly. 

It’s always like this between you guys. Shy smiles and teasing grins at school, but completely different in private. Eddie loved it. He loved seeing you squirm in school because of his attention on you and then seeing the complete vixen that you truly are. 

“See you in the last block?” You question curiously, letting your fingers intertwine with his, not really caring who sees. You always said it wasn’t anybody’s damn business. 

Eddie kisses your cheek delicately, “I’m skipping.” 

“Eddie,” you scold as your eyes widen, but Eddie’s already jogging away from you with a smile on his face. 

“You won’t be scolding me tomorrow!” He yells at you and he doesn’t miss the way you break out into a big smile. His favorite smile. 

At 7:30 am the next morning, right as you're walking out your front door to walk to school, you are standing on your porch when you see Eddie standing there with a big grin on his face. 

Your face immediately breaks out into a grin, “Eddie? What are you doing here?” Your eyes darting all over his body to simultaneously check him out and wondering why he has his hands behind his back. 

He’s grinning so hard that his dimples are showing and he looks so handsome. He’s in his regular attire, but you love it. He’s wearing his black jeans with his dangling chains, white chucks, his DnD long sleeve underneath his jean jacket, and his curly hair is messy. Curls framing his adorable face with his cut bangs covering his forehead. You want to run your hands through them. 

You walk up to him and place a quick kiss to his cheek. 

“I got you something,” Eddie says with a whisper and slight hint of mischief behind his tone. You raise an eyebrow, following his arms as he untucks them from behind himself, and you gasp when he pulls out what he’s hiding. 

Eddie watches you as your eyes swell up with adornment and you sigh so lovely that it’s almost sickening the way his heart flutters at your expression. 

He holds onto the fluffy pink teddy bear he had gotten you that has a big heart in the center of it with the words, “Kiss me” splattered in the center. 

He holds it out for you as your expression goes from surprised to amusement to completely grateful in the span of fifteen seconds. You reach for it and squeeze it into your chest. 

“You shouldn’t have,” you quickly say with a breathless smile and Eddie swears he sees tears in your eyes. 

Eddie pulls you into his arms, wrapping his around your torso as the bear gets squished between you guys, and he leans down to kiss your sweet tasting lips. 

He kisses you easily and softly. Almost like it’s second nature to him already. His warm hands grip the sides of your cheeks as your lips move against his in a rhythm that feels natural. 

It’s almost unfair how soft and sweet your lips feel against Eddie’s. Eddie almost wants to come undone right here on your front steps. 

Your free arm, the one not holding your brand new and favorite teddy bear, wraps around Eddie’s shoulders with ease and you pull against his back to move closer into you. 

He chuckles into your mouth and you can feel him smiling which causes you to smile and to slowly pull away, but before you do you give him a million pecks on his lips as you both giggle childishly. 

“You’re sweet on me,” you whisper into his lips as you slowly shove away some of his loose curls that tickle your cheeks. 

“Always am, sugar.” 

In your last class, which surprisingly was the only class you had with Eddie, you were already anxiously waiting for the school day to end. You had already been wanting to give Eddie his gift and you were in your headspace about it when you heard multiple people calling out your name. 

You snap out of your thoughts and immediately sit up straight when Mrs. Johnson is walking over to you with a big bundle of red roses in a glass vase. 

Your mouth parts open in shock as she hands you the vase and you set it down on your desk. You can feel yourself blushing as the girls around you are giggling and asking who sent you the roses. 

“They’re beautiful, honey. You are a lucky lady,” Mrs. Johnson says with her sweet smile and honey voice. You whisper a quick thank you as you easily look over your shoulder at Eddie who’s sitting in the back row. 

He’s staring right at you with a smirk on his face which causes you to break out into a cheeky smile. 

You inhale the sweet scent of the beautiful roses in front of you and sigh in contentment. How did you get this lucky? And who would have thought that Eddie Munson was a secret romantic? 

“Thank you for my roses,” you pant out above Eddie as your arms wrap around his shoulders and your hands go into his curls. Eddie moans as he starts kissing your neck, running his hands up your naked thighs and underneath your pink skirt, and when he reaches your core, he groans with his head tilting back to meet your eyes. 

You smile as you pull his lips to yours once more, “I forgot to put them back.” You whisper teasingly into his mouth. 

Eddie almost cums at your words as he moves his fingers to your pussy, which is already soaked, and he loves that you do stuff like this. Always doing something that shocks him. He fucking loves you. 

Wait..

Does he love you? 

Yeah, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you. 

He thinks he wants to tell you that tonight. Maybe make whatever this is between you two official. 

He slips one of his fingers into your warm heat and you whimper as you feel your walls tightening around his digit. Your nails dig into the skin behind his neck and you start grinding your hips against his own. You feel how hard he is underneath his jeans and you can almost feel him throbbing. 

Eddie grips your neck with his free hand, kissing you roughly as he slips in another finger, curling both of them in you to hit your spot, and the feeling of him stretching you out makes shives run down your back. 

Eddie moves his thumb to your clit and starts moving his fingers together, trying to get you to your peak, “Fuck me, sweetheart. You’re absolutely dripping.” 

You lick his lips to taste him, “All for you.” 

After a heated almost sex almost orgasm make out sesh in Eddie’s van, you had told him to come back around nine pm once you knew your parents were asleep in bed and thankfully they were both deep sleepers. 

You told him to go through the window and now here you are. 

Waiting for him in only your babydoll pink outfit. 

It shouldn’t even be considered an outfit by how it was basically mesh and didn’t leave anything to the imagination. 

But you knew Eddie was going to go feral over it. He’s seen you naked plenty of times, but never in anything like this. 

The lingerie was baby pink in color with matching underwear. The little dress fanned out on your waist which you loved. And you looked at yourself in the mirror once more.. just to admire the cute outfit before Eddie ripped it off of you. 

You hear a soft knock on your window which causes your heart to race immediately and you rush to open it. The cold Indiana air rushing over your skin and making goosebumps arise all over you. 

You stand back as Eddie makes his way into your room. You quickly settle into the bed, crossing your legs, and leaning back to make your body look appetizing and wanting for him. You adjust your hair to fall over your shoulders and you hope you look as good as you feel right now. 

Eddie is adjusting his jacket over your empty chair and ruffling his hair as he looks over at you for the first time and he stops in his tracks. 

His lips part open, baby brown eyes going wide, and he puts his hand on his chest dramatically. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack, baby?”

You giggle, “Maybe.” You hook your toe into one of his belt loops and pull him into you as best as you can. His cold hands touch your burning thighs and it feels amazing. 

“You look breathtaking,” your lover says as he cups your face in his hands and leans down to kiss your lips. 

Eddie crushes his own lips against yours, moaning at the taste of your sweet chapstick, and how you always seem to reciprocate to him in the best way. 

He loves the way your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders and the way you lean back to spread your legs wide open for his own hips to mold into yours. 

Eddie pulls away slowly, your arms unlinking from behind his neck, and falling down to your sides as you watch him watching you. 

His eyes take in your flushed cheeks, to your already swollen lips, the straps of your lingerie are falling down your shoulders, and it makes Eddie want to groan. 

He looks at your perky breasts covered in the mesh and your pretty nipples are pointy. He rubs his thumbs on both of them over the lingerie and you gasp as the sudden contact. Your thighs rub together as he thumbs your nipples in between his fingers. 

“You’re a fucking dream,” Eddie whispers as he licks his lips while he moves his hands down your full breasts and to the opening of the lingerie. He lets his hands go under the opening and holds onto the curve of your waist. 

“A fucking dream,” he mutters again as he moves his hands down to your matching mesh underwear and he slips his hands underneath the sides. 

Then, Eddie slips down to his knees and he’s pulling your underwear down with him. 

You feel the cold air hit your already soaked area and you whimper as Eddie removes your underwear from your legs. He starts kissing you from your ankles to your inner thighs and that’s where he starts leaving small bites of kisses all over you.  

You adjust yourself onto the edge of your bed, soft goosebumps covering your body as you wait in anticipation for Eddie to touch you, to do anything to you, and you close your eyes when you feel his warm breath against your pussy. 

You feel his fingers slowly start to spread you open and you feel his tongue flick your opening slightly. 

You gasp in pleasure, your belly tightening in want, and your breathing is rising as Eddie licks a strip from your aching hole to your pulsating clit. 

And Eddie feels obsessed with you. He’s obsessed with your pretty legs, your pretty thighs, and your fucking pretty pussy. 

He’s obsessed with the way your body responds to his touches. The way he can spend hours kissing and marking your thighs. And how he loves the way you respond to the way he eats you out. 

He buries his face into your pussy as he starts eating you out as a starved man. He licks your folds, his fingers moving to open you up, and then proceeds to lick your aching hole once again. 

A tingling sensation runs through your spine which causes your back to curve upwards into the air, a pleasurable moan escaping from the back of your throat, and one of Eddie’s strong hands holds you down by your hip. 

He moves his lips towards your clip, sucking and licking it, and simultaneously inserts one of his fingers into your hole. You gasp as you grind your hips into him. 

Eddie moans into your pussy, sending vibrations into your core, and he starts to move his finger into you. Slowly opening you up. “Fuck, almost so fucking tight for me. All for me, right baby?” Eddie rushes out as he lays his tongue flat against your pussy, letting your juices coat his mouth and his chin, and when you look down to meet his eyes… he smiles so hard, his dimples show. 

“You’re a dream, baby.” 

Eddie continues to maintain eye contact with you as he sucks in all your juices. He pulls away, licking his lips messily, and watching your pussy clenching down his finger. He inserts another, your soaking walls clenching down again as you feel his other finger inside of you, and you grip onto the sheets underneath your body. 

Eddie starts panting a little as he watches you squirming underneath him, spread out in all your glory for him. Just for him. 

He watches the way you grind your hips into his fingers, the way your pussy soaks his fingers, and the way you confidently touch your body with your hands. Twisting your nipples in between your fingers and biting your bottom lip in want. 

The knot in the bottom of your belly is getting tighter as pleasure is seeping out of your pores. 

“E-Eddie,” you moan out as you reach down to wrap your hands into his curls and before he can say anything, you shove his head back down to your aching pussy. Needing him to finish you off. 

You hear Eddie chuckle as you shove him down and then he continues to eat you out, just the way you like it. His free hand moving underneath your hips and squeezing your ass in his hold. 

Eddie continues to pump his fingers inside of you, curling them in your walls, and sucking on your clit which makes your toes curl in anticipation. Your hands tighten around his curls, tugging generously, and he never stops. 

“Oh,” you moan out, back arching a little bit to move your center to the perfect angle that will help you achieve your orgasm, and Eddie only goes faster and harder. The knot in your belly starts to tighten and you feel almost over the edge. 

“Eddie, Eddie, E-Eddie,” you continue to moan out his name as you clench your eyes shut as you feel your orgasm take over your entire body. His fingers pump inside of you, his lips wrapped around your pulsating clit, and you bite onto your forearm to try and conceal your screams. 

Your toes curl against your bed as your orgasm washes completely over you as Eddie licks up all your juices until you're shaking and laying down limp on your bed. He removes his fingers from your sore pussy and you look down at him with a lazy smile, he sucks his fingers into his mouth with a moan. 

“You taste so sweet,” he whispers as he leans over to you and kisses you, open mouthed, and lazily with tongue. You taste yourself as you kiss him, both moaning together, and you bite his bottom lip. 

You moan as you wrap your arms around him, “I need you.” 

Eddie whimpers at your words and pulls away from you. He quickly starts to strip out of his clothes as you giggle. You sit on your calves as you both watch each other. He stumbles out of his boots, trying not to fall, and shoves off his jeans. 

You slowly pull off your babydoll outfit and toss it to the floor, watching Eddie as he yanks off his shirt, and you lean back on your elbows. 

Eddie slows down as he watches you spread out for him and he bites his bottom lip. He shoves down his boxers and his red-tipping, almost aching thick cock bounces up and down. He palms himself as he watches you, “Ready for me?” 

“Always am,” you whisper into the quiet room as you do grabby hands for him as his big, lean body towers over you. 

He slips his hand behind your back and one behind your head as your lips move messily against his own. He moves his hips against yours which causes his pulsating cock to move in between your folds and he allows himself to rub against your swollen clit. It sends bolts of electricity all over your body as you had just orgasmed. 

You both moan into each other’s mouth at the sensation, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer into you, and you spread your legs wider to allow him easier access. He pulls away from your mouth, kissing your neck with small licks, and sucks a little bit near your collarbone. 

“You want me?” He whispers into your ear as he sucks on your earlobe. Chills run down your spine as a memory fills your brain when he asked you the same thing a couple months ago on Halloween night. 

You follow the same movements you did that night, pulling his face towards you as you cup his chin, eyes locking together, and you nod as you reach down to grip onto his length. Eddie lets out a shaky breath as he feels your warm hand wrap around him and you can feel him twitching in your hold. 

You thumb the tip of his cock, coating it with his pre-cum, and you rub him in between your folds. Eddie feels the same way he felt that night when he first had you underneath him. He’s aching for you, like he always does. He still feels like he’s going to explode just by being above you. 

You rub his throbbing cock along your soaking pussy and center him with your opening, “Take me.”

Eddie almost cums at your words as he kisses you again. He feels your opening against his cock and he pushes into your tight, warm, fucking delicious pussy. 

You both whimper together as he pushes into your tight hole, bottoming out, and feeling you stretching around him. It burns slightly, but it feels blissful. Never truly accommodating to his size and it always feels just as amazing. The stretch you feel when he enters you almost feels unexplainable. Every. Single. Time. 

Your limbs mesh together in sync, legs intertwined together, and hands touching everywhere they possibly can. You’re kissing each other with open mouths, tongue playing against each other, and then Eddie starts to move. His hands gripping your breasts roughly, twisting your nipples in between his fingers, and moving his mouth to suck bruises into each one of them. 

His thrust are slow and tender as he slowly moves in and out of you. His rhythm going easy and taking his time as he fully feels you around his cock, your pussy clenching around him, and your nails raking down his back. 

“Always so wet for me, huh princess?” 

“Always,” you whimper out as he starts to increase his speed above you. Your lover's hands move down to caress your belly and then he settles them onto your waist, holding down tightly as he tilts his own hips higher as he thrusts inside of you. 

You moan out loudly when you feel him hit the area that sends you the most pleasure, your mouth hanging open with your whines, and Eddie moves one of your legs up to your chest which causes his cock to enter into you at a different angle. 

You grip onto Eddie’s arms as he starts thrusting into you at a rapid, almost animalistic, speed. The wet sounds of his cock entering you fill your bedroom sweetly and you lean down to kiss his collarbone. The sweet smell of sex slowly filling your bedroom and you look up to admire Eddie’s. 

Eddie’s skin is flushed from his cheeks to his chest, tinted pink and beautiful, and you run your tongue on his neck as you reach his soft spot. You let yourself kiss and suck for a second, making sure you linger enough to mark him up. Just the way he likes it. 

“Fuckk,” Eddie whimpers out, “You always feel like fucking heaven. Tightest pussy I’ve ever had. M-Made just for me.” 

You twist your hips a little bit as you move your leg from your chest to rest above Eddie’s shoulder, tugging him by his arms lower into you, and you both gasp as you feel him fall deeper inside of you. Your pussy clenching around his cock trying to suction him in more. 

Eddie chokes on a moan as you squeeze your walls to grip onto his cock, knowing he loves when you do that, and he moves his hand in between your bodies. 

His fingers ghost over your pussy and he kisses your lips, open mouth kisses with his tongue tasting you, “Fuck, baby. I’m not even touching you yet and my fingers can feel your hot pussy aching for me.” 

You whimper as you tilt forward to catch his lips again while he moves his finger over your swollen clit and you cry out from the instant pleasure you feel. 

“Fuck,” he gasps out, clenching his eyes shut for a second, and he laughs. “I’m trying not to cum so hard right now.” 

“I’m close,” you whisper as you feel the aching feeling starting up at the pit of your belly once more and Eddie breaks out into a smile. 

“Thank fuck ‘cause I don’t know how much longer I can hold it,” Eddie says as he kisses your lips while he continues to move his finger against your clit. You feel the familiar sensation start to creep up in your toes, you wrap your arms around Eddie’s shoulders, and you start moving your hips against his to cause greater friction between you two. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. Are you ready to cum with me?” 

You nod frantically as your fingernails start to dig into Eddie’s shoulder blades as his free hand grips onto the plush of your hip. 

“Eddie,” you cry, “Fuck! Right there! Don’t stop! I’m about to—“

“Cum for me,” Eddie cuts you off with a demand. 

You gasp out at his demand and you quickly grab his face with both of your hands, your fingers caress his cheeks and his lips, and you both stare into each other in a breathless mess. 

“Together,” you whisper as you both keep moving together in sync. 

And then it happens. 

You choke on your moans as you feel your body explode with pleasure as your stomach tightens and your toes curl into your mattress. Your ears start ringing in white noise as you clench your walls around Eddie’s cock. 

Eddie swears he’s fucking a goddess right now because there’s no other explanation for the absolute dream that’s underneath him right now. 

Eddie watches you come undone under him and it completely triggers his own orgasm. Your tight walls clench around his throbbing cock and he lets himself release into your heavenly pussy. 

Eddie starts to thrust into you harder and faster as his cum fills your walls. You pull on his cheeks to make your lips meet his in the middle and you both are trying to find your breath through the kiss. 

Eddie rests his forehead against yours, softly pulling his lips away from yours, and he admires you as you smile blissfully up at him. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes glossy, hair a mess, and Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone more beautiful. 

But he’s always felt that way about you. 

He holds your ankle on his shoulder as he slowly pulls out of your cum filled pussy and you both hiss at the emptiness. 

Eddie reaches over to your bedside table and gets a couple tissues. He spends the next couple of minutes cleaning you up, slowly to not hurt your sore pussy, and it almost makes you ache for him all over again. 

Once he’s done cleaning you and himself, he relaxes next you and you pull the covers over your bodies. 

You smile sweetly at him, your heart rate finally slowing down, and you stretch for a second to twist and look at him. 

You admire him from his long, curly hair to his long dark eyelashes that coat his beautiful chocolate brown eyes to his pouty red, kissed out lips and when he catches you starting, he breaks out into a smile. 

You reach out to put your index finger in his dimple and he blushes under your touch. Eddie turns his body to also face you  

“So, babydoll.. who was your first?” Eddie asks nonchalantly as he twirls his fingers through your hair. 

Your eyes immediately go wide with shock at his question and you burst out into fits of giggles. You tug your covers over your naked chest, twisting to look at him, and you settle on your side. 

You can’t stop giggling as he joins in with you. 

“You can’t ask me that, Eddie!” 

“‘Course I can, baby. I’m in your bed naked after we just had mind blowing sex. I think I can ask you anything I want,” he teases with a sly smile that shows his white teeth. 

“You can’t get mad, okay?” 

Eddie’s eyes light up with interest as he proceeds to push himself up on his elbows, “I’m listening.” 

He watches you as you bite your bottom lip, your flushed out face and neck is calming down, and your hair is laid out messily all over you. 

But Eddie still thinks you're the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

That’s why when you say the name of the lucky bastard that you gave your virginity to.. Eddie lets out a choked gasp intertwined with a barking laugh. 

His eyes go wide as he watches you, “Did you just say Steve fucking Harrington?!” 

You cover your face with your hands as you smile widely behind them and Eddie can’t help but laugh so loudly that he’s clutching his belly. 

“Don’t laugh at me!! It was back in freshman year when we were dating, but it was very short lived and we moved past it.” 

You giggle with Eddie as you both clumsily sit down on the bed, facing each other, and then you suddenly see a look come across Eddie’s face that halts your laughter. 

His laughing dies down, his eyes downcast, and he’s frowning for a second. He quickly shakes his head from his thoughts and ruffles his hair to distract himself. 

“Hey, Eddie. What’s wrong?” You ask as you reach for his hand to hold in your own, your eyebrows furr down in confusion at his sudden change of mood. 

Eddie bites his bottom lip in thought before he moves his beautiful big puppy brown eyes to meet yours. 

“It’s just.. I’m not mad that you lost your virginity to Steve Harrington. I’m sure he was a good fuck or what-shit, ignore that! It’s just—fuck,” he blubbers rapidly and you squeeze his hand for him to continue as he sighs loudly, “it’s just.. Steve Harrington.. is Steve Harrington. He’s the popular guy. The handsome guy with the nice hair and cool car.” 

You tilt your head when Eddie watches you with expecting eyes as if you’re supposed to understand what he means, but you don’t get it. What’s so good about Steve? 

Not that there’s anything wrong with him. But you’re confused. 

“I don’t get it?” You say with confusion and a slight pout. 

Eddie looks down, rubbing his thumb on your hand, he says, “Steve is Steve and I’m.. well… I’m just me?”

His voice sounds small and suddenly you feel your heart tighten in your chest. 

“Oh,” you let out a shocked little sigh as you see a side of Eddie that he’s never shown you before. 

A side where he feels inferior to Steve Harrington and he’s showing how he’s insecure about it. 

“It’s just.. I’m just Eddie the weirdo that lives in a beat up trailer park with his uncle and I sell drugs for a living.” 

“Eddie,” you whisper as you try to reach for his face, but he pulls away. He’s suddenly shut himself down completely. 

He almost looks upset. 

“I’m nothing, god… I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to realize this.” 

Eddie is suddenly shaking his head and jumping out of your bed. You sit up in the bed, holding your sheets to your body, and Eddie is tugging on his clothes. 

“Jesus Christ,” he says with an exacerbated laugh and another shake of his head. 

“Eddie, please stop. I’m so confused, what’s going on?” You try to beg him as he simultaneously shoves on his boots and you shove off the sheets. 

You stand up, naked and without a care, and you stand in front of him as he adjusts his jean jacket over his shoulders. You put your hands on his shoulders to stop him and he curls into himself almost as he’s ashamed. 

He tries to avoid your eyes as you look up to him in confusion, your heart is racing, and you don’t know what’s happening. 

He finally looks down at you, his sad eyes taking in every inch of you, and he looks suddenly miserable. 

His fingertips slowly touch the curve of your waist and he quickly pulls his hands away as if your skin burned him. 

He slowly reaches down to your lips and kisses you slowly. You try to kiss him back, but he pulls away swiftly. 

“I’m nothing,” he says again with shame. 

“Eddie, you’re not—“ 

“I am,” he cuts you off. “And you’re.. god, you’re everything. You’re smart, funny, so fucking caring, and beautiful. You’re so gorgeous that it's honestly insane,” he chuckles as he meets your worried eyes, “You’re everything and you deserve better than me.” 

“Eddie, stop. You don’t—“ 

“I do,” he cuts you off again. “This was never going to work. We aren’t even really together. We’ve just been messing around for months, but we all know where this is going. You’re going to New York or LA to follow your dreams and I’m staying here. You’re going to become someone and I’ll always be a nobody. You don’t need me dragging you down.” 

Tears instantly fill your waterline, “Eddie, what are you talking about?” You beg him as your voice shakes and your lips quiver. 

He shuts his eyes for a moment as if the mere sight of you hurts him. 

“Don’t waste your tears on me, doll. I’m not worth it. You’re leaving in a couple months, so might as well end this before we get too into our heads.” 

He gets the blanket off your bed and quickly covers your body with it before he walks over to your window. 

You watch him, not knowing what to say, and you’re frowning deeply with tears staining your cheeks. What the hell is going on? 

He looks at you as he raises the window up, letting in the wind, “It’s easier like this, doll. Trust me.” He tries to smile, but his lips waver. 

You rush to him, gripping onto his hand that’s holding him steady as he eases himself out the window and onto the roof, “Don’t do this to me, Eddie Munson. Why are you doing this? Please.” 

He almost hesitates, but then he only tugs his hand away from your hold and you let out a whimper. 

“Sorry, doll. Guess you were just into this more than me.” 

He quickly rushes out the window, slamming it shut, and leaves you there with a shocked open mouth and a gasping breath. 

You cover your face as you scramble to sit on your bed. You hold the blanket over your naked body as you cry over what he said to you. 

Had you been more into this than him? 

Did he never really feel the same way you did? Why was it so easy for him to just end whatever this was? 

You grip onto the blanket as you quick step towards your window, looking at the overview you have of the street, and right under the tall street lamp is Eddie. 

Standing underneath the light, smoking a cigarette, kicking his feet on the ground, and then proceeds to get into his van. 

You watch every movement that he does, begging that he looks up at you, but he doesn’t. He just drives away. 

You wonder if he can hear your heart breaking. 

Eddie drives away in his van and his stereo is off. 

Eddie’s stereo is never off. It’s always the first thing he does when he gets in his van. He always turns it on and shuffles through millions of cassette tapes he has and goes through them until he picks the perfect one. 

But right now, he doesn’t want to hear anything. He wants to be alone with his thoughts. 

His stupid fucking thoughts. His stupid insecurities. The stupid ones that made him fuck off from you and ruin everything he had with you. 

Eddie slams the steering wheel with his palm as he rubs his eyes with his free one. He’s beyond frustrated with himself and is cursing at everything he sees. 

He’s such a fucking idiot. 

But he knows he’s right about one thing. 

You’re everything and he’s nothing. 

How could something like that possibly work? 

He scoffs as he feels a small tear run down his cheek, he grips the steering wheel even harder, and yells loudly. Trying to silence the thoughts in his brain. 

He knows it will never work. 

Now he just has to stay away from you and once school is over, he’ll never see you again. 

Taglist: @theshabbygiftofdisillusion @duuhrayliegh @munsonficdump @lelifesaver @avalon-wolf @mcumorningstar @likeficsinthewnd @frootvelvet @optimisticallygarbage @lokis-army-77 @hes-a-rainbow @freakhellfire @roanniom @sunnysaid @freeshavocadoooo @see-were-laughing @lovelyholland02 @ilikechocolatemilkh @buckmepapi @adequate-superstar @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @sydneylaufeyson22 @quixscentsposts @aphr0d1teh @secretdryrose @ooo-protean-ooo @hereforshmut @eddiemunsonthoughts @m1lfptrl @sweetcrechy @alana4610 @tjbabe33 @hesvoid34 @daydreamerblues @bookshelf-dust @bitxhbeforreal @ihatepeanutss @1weirdbitch @lagataprrr @spread-the-hope @aimeephobic @slutfor-keery-quinn @boomhauer @catherinnn

[andypantsx3]

get to know your moots ˖˚˳⊹ thank you for the tag @kedsandtubesocks!!

what's the origin of your blog title? nickname + the old myspace "x3" since i never had an account and was jealous lol. andypantsx3 was my ao3 lurker handle that was never meant to see the light of day. i accidentally got attached after pubbing test fics 😭 i wish it was something cooler reeeeeeeeee

OTP(s) + shipname: todobaku my beloved

favorite color: green

favorite game: i don't play any games rip but i desperately want to get into hsr. also purple hair guy from lads looks hot... very compelling...

song stuck in your head: i have been singing espresso to my dog all day, rewritten to be about her (she's working late, 'cause she's a wiener)

weirdest habit/trait? most of them. rewriting songs to be about my dog.

hobbies: writing, reading, a couple instruments (now rarely played), cooking

if you work, what's your profession? tech industry corporate wage mule

if you could have any job you wish what would it be? an author!!!! if i could write books and live at the level i do now i would be satisfied forever

something you're good at: karaoke

something you're bad at: everything else

something you love: almost everything on earth. my dog. good food, drinks with friends, reading books in the bath, laying on the beach, memes, hanging with my fam, boat rides, dining/drinking al fresco, long drives by myself, local bookstores, live music, traveling, weekends, iced coffee, growing herbs in my kitchen window, summertime, i could go onnnn

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: fanfic/fandom in general

something you hate: conservative politics

something you collect: uhh does books count

something you forget: everything all of the time

what's your love language? words of affirmation!!

favorite movie/show: my herooooooo

favorite food: zucchini bread. anything mediterranean.

favorite animal: wiener dogs

what were you like as a child? bald baby, read a lot and was weird lol

favorite subject at school? english lit

least favorite subject? i cannot emphasize how much i do not give a fuck about math

what's your best character trait? i have fun easily!!

what's your worst character trait? there are 1000 in competition for the title of "worst" at any given time. short temper, impatient, stubborn, often tactless, lazy, patronizing, awkward.

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be? i would have dug my car out of the snow earlier instead of procrastinating (i have to go do it now reeeeeee). also would have written more instead of napping.

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet? i would briefly fistfight my paternal grandparents before portalling back here

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!): i recently reread @/shibaraki's the glass delusion, i cannot recommend enough!!

a couple quick no pressure tags! @ofmermaidstories @lorelune @rushthestars @restwellsoon @kimkaelyn @izuwumidoriya @yinyuedijun @princess-okkotsu @willowser

[tymika-rose]

Aloha to everyone who comes across this post,

If you don’t know- Maui, Hawai’i has underwent the most devastating, traumatic tragedy thus far. The presence of Hurricane Dora has caused great winds to pick up rapidly, causing destruction & a mass wildfire to spread; completely engulfing the historic town- Lāhainā.

Homes were burnt to ashes, businesses, schools, churches EVERYTHING. The people of Lāhainā have experienced a burdening loss of their land & home, some have lost a pet, or/and a family member💔There are still ppl missing; bodies still being found (floating in the ocean, burnt in cars with their ohana or holding on to their other half )

It is truly like a scene out of a movie, but worse. An apocalyptic scene. A destructive heartbreak to all of Hawai’i. All in all, this is history in the making.

I am sharing this hoping it reaches those near & far so the word can spread. If you feel it in your heart to help in any way possible please read each photo thoroughly, repost, share, follow, donate, or simply just understand that right now Maui is not open for travel. Right now Maui residents are stranded; no running water, electricity, food, clothes, gasoline, cell service etc.

They need time to come back from this. WE need time to HELP them; right now all the people of Hawai’i have been coming together to help but tourism will only be getting in the way; will only be using up the valuable resources that the people of Lāhainā need more than ever right now.

If you reach this, Mahalo🤍🤙🏽

the tagged profile mentioned in the pictures are on instagram- please follow for updates & resources/ information.

Other accounts that are good to follow on ig in regards to the Lāhainā Fire:

@gem.in.eye

@hawanemusic

@kakoo_haleakala

@mehanaokala