#I’m just excited by the idea of having my own room and being able to actually decorate it
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Chapter 18
Summary: Wanda has been seeing someone. Daisy reconnects with Reader. Jean and Anna have special plans.
A/n: Heeeyy, please don't hate me. Enjoy!
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Wanda checks her watch nervously. She had arrived at the office thirty minutes early to mentally prepare for the appointment. She wasn't sure what she was going to discover in that room. All she knew was that the idea made her feel ill. Her mind jumps to all of the people she slept with and she begins to feel like an idiot. Her leg bounces nervously as she thinks about how she will be judged by the doctor. It won't happen in front of her but she's almost certain it will happen.
“Wanda Maximoff?” Her head snaps up at her name being called. “I'm ready to see you now.” Wanda nods and rises as she collects her things. She was going to be fine. Agatha swears by therapy. She was going to be fine. This was the next step to getting better and getting on with her life.
You are standing in the backyard of your former home. “You wanted to show me my own craft space?” You ask with arms crossed over your chest.
“No, we wanted to show you our future craft space,” Jean says and Anna waves her arms around as she presents a stack of boxes where your tools and materials used to be laid out.
“What's this? You know that I need the space when I get an order. I know it’s been a while but it’s not just for me. I’ve been able to help you guys with the money I make from this side job. It’s not some frivolous hobby,” you walk around the room.
“Yes, well, it’s actually been a year – close to a year and I’m pretty sure we were your last customers,” Jean says. “Besides, since we’re going to have all of this time we thought would be occupied by a baby… We want to make it into a craft space.”
You clamp your mouth shut as you look at the boxes. It wasn’t fair for them to throw that in your face but this scenario was eerily similar to the one you’d witnessed with Wanda’s basement and Vision. You couldn’t stoop as low as that man so you sighed and nodded. “Okay, can you give me time to find somewhere to store it all? I don’t have the space right now.”
“Sure,” Jean says, “just please don’t take too long. I have a lot of idea’s and I’m excited. Well. We’re excited.” She pulls her wife close to her and the two share a kiss. You find their behavior to be odd but you don’t think about it too much.
“Okay,” you drag out. “I should get going. I need to do some grocery shopping and make some phone calls to see who will be willing to store my things until I can find a better place.” You walk through the gate to get to your car as they allow you to go. You scroll through your contacts to see who you can trust with your tools and supplies. You pause for a moment when you see Daisy’s contact. You know that you didn’t love her the way she deserved but it still hurt to see her name. You decide to leave that task for when you’re home because you needed to focus.
You walk around the store with this nagging feeling that you should contact Daisy for some reason. You didn’t understand it. In the time since she ended things with you, you haven’t wanted to contact her once. Maybe it was because things with Wanda have crashed and burned alive. You don’t know, but you had to fight it because it wouldn’t be fair for you to try and insert yourself in her life again. As you shop you recignize her friend and you can’t stop yourself from saying hi. Because you mistakenly feel as though that would be rude. “Hey, Jemma!” You greet with as smile.
Her eyes go wide and she almost runs but instead turns around smiles back. “Y/n, it’s been a while. How have you been?”
You take a deep breath as you mentally run through the chaotic months you’d been having. “I’ve been better,” you nod. “Yeah, um, how have you been?”
She makes a face and narrows her eyes at you, “Let’s not waste our time here. I’m not the person you want to know about. Am I?”
You’re surprised by the implication and you shake your head. “No, I’m genuinely curious about you. I wouldn’t ever put you in a position to update me about Daisy. She made it very clear that she wanted me out of her life.”
Jemma’s eyes scan you and she nods. “I’ve been well. Daisy, however, not so much. I’m telling you this because she is going to reach out to you soon. As much as I don’t like you, you do deserve the warning.”
Your eyebrows twitch and you frown slightly, that was not what you expected to hear. “Oh, I hope I can help her with whatever it is. I just… She’s not going to try and get back together right?”
Jemma bursts out laughing and you smile and nod as she makes a big show of her amusement. “I’ve forgotten how funny you are!” She points at you with a grin. “No! She doesn’t want you back!”
“I’m sorry,” you say as you try not to roll your eyes at her reaction. It was unnecessary. “Just, let her know that she can contact me whenever she wants. I’ll see you around, Jemma. Or maybe I won’t.” You walk away and continue to shop for the week. You go home and put your groceries away and don’t think about Daisy the rest of the day.
Wanda sits in her office and goes over her budget proposal for the project she was assigned. The company has been trying to score her former in-law’s as a client for years. She knew Stark Industries was a big corporation when she married into the family. It’s what paid for this house. It’s what allowed her to not work for six months. It’s what has paid for her new land. But for some reason she still feels weird about using her relationship to the Starks to help this company land them as a client. It made her realize why they probably hired her in the first place even with the unexplained unemployment gap after being fired from her previous firm. She runs through the proposal a couple more times and hopes that this doesn’t create a rift with the people she was getting to build a healthier relationship with.
When she feels confident about the proposal she sets it aside and starts to work on the digital blueprint of her dream home. It has gone from sketches to utilizing the program on her computer to draft together a more visual representation of what she wants her house to look like. She has lots of windows and an open floor plan. She knows where she wants a dining room and how she wants the kitchen to look like. The second floor has a den space and an office space and multiple bedrooms. Then she considers adding a third floor but thinks it might be too much.
She starts to shuffle the rooms around and considers moving the office to the ground floor. Then she adds a basement. Then she takes it away. She plays around with the design until her stomach grumbles and she is reminded that she has to eat. She shut down her work and walks downstairs to make herself something to eat. As she sets out ingredients, she fantasizes about you standing in the kitchen helping her. She wonders if you'd wrap your arms around her and kiss her cheek as she chopped vegetables. She thinks about how easily she could melt against your body. She allows herself to think about moments she could have with you without making herself feel guilty about it. She's tired of feeling guilty for wanting a better life for herself.
As she lays on the couch and watches a show that she has been binging lately she mindlessly traces the letters M, I, N, E, on her upper thigh. In her mind, it's a memory of you, but really it's only another fantasy. She doesn't know why she can't just give in. She doesn't know why she pushes you away. She knows she shouldn't have but she also knows that she probably would have hurt you. She takes a deep breath and sighs.
She walks up to her bed as her mind prepares her for waking up early the next morning. The mental checklist of what she has to take care of tomorrow. What she should wear for her meeting with Tony. What she should make herself for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Should she go out? Should she anticipate Tony offering to take her to lunch?
She thinks about the therapy sessions she has scheduled for the next several weeks. She thinks about wanting to hang out with her friends. Then as she closes her eyes, she thinks about you and a small smile lifts up her lips.
You are getting ready to take your lunch break when your phone goes off in your pocket. Your heart leaps into your throat when Daisy’s image covers your screen. You answer and start walking away from the job site. “Hello?” You say into the phone. There is a loud drilling sound and someone starts banging a hammer on a wall. “Hold on, I can’t hear you. One second please.” You cross the street and keep walking until you find a quiet area. You sit down on a park bench. “Okay, I can hear you now. Um, hey,” you say as you remove your hardhat. “This is a surprise. How are you?”
“Is it a surprise? Jemma told me that she warned you I might contact you,” Daisy says.
“Uh, she did say that but I wasn’t sure when to expect your call. So it is still a surprise,” you reply as you run your fingers through your hair. “She also warned me that you’re not doing too well. Is there something I can do for you?” Daisy goes quiet and you think that the call has dropped, you move the phone from your face to check but the sunlight makes it difficult to tell. “Hello?”
“I’m here,” she sighs and you can tell that she is trying to hide that she is crying. You take a deep breath as you brace yourself for what she might tell you. Maybe Phil is terminally ill. Maybe her mom passed. Maybe this, maybe that.
“I’m here for you,” you tell her. “No matter what, it’s okay. You can tell me.”
“I,” her voice cracks and you wish that you could do something more than sit here on the phone with her. “What I need to talk to you about is better done in person,” she finally says through her sniffles.
“Okay, um where do you want to meet?” You ask. “I don’t have Rachel this week so you could come over to my place because it's a lot more private than yours or if you don’t want privacy I can go to your place after work. Um or we can meet somewhere public. I’m willing to do whatever you need.” You softly offer her options. Your heart is pounding from the anticipation. What could be so bad that she had to see you in person?
“I’m okay with coming over to your place,” she replies.
“Okay,” you state, “does seven-thirty work for you? I’ve been working twelve to thirteen hour shifts to pay those pesky hospital bills.”
“Seven-thirty works,” she answers. “I’ll see you then.”
“I’ll see you then,” you say as the call ends. You sit on that park bench a little bit longer as you fear what Daisy has to say. What could she possibly be holding on to? What has her in tears? What can’t she say over the phone? Your mind races as you eat your lunch. It continues to run as you get back to work and think about what Daisy needs help with.
Wanda laughs with Tony as they sit together in a nice restaurant. Her pitch went well and Tony said that he would consider hiring her for the project. Then he offered to take her to lunch to celebrate. Now the two were discussing highlights of Vision’s finest moments during past holidays. “Oh, remember that time he convinced your dad to let him cut the turkey and he nearly cut his finger off?” Wanda says.
“How could I forget? I’m the one who pointed out that there couldn’t be that much blood on a turkey!” Tony laughs as he lifts his glass from the table and swirls it around. He shakes his head. “I have no clue how I’m related to that man.”
“I don’t know either,” Wanda says. “You are way more fun to be around,” she compliments and they clink their glasses together as they cheers to that.
“You know, Wanda,” Tony starts as he leans in closer. “Why are you wasting your talents working for a company like Nexus Developments? You are family,” he puts his hand on top of Wanda’s. “We could have helped you land a job with the company we usually use or hell, we could have made a branch for you.”
Wanda taps Tony’s hand as she pulls away and slumps back into her seat. “I know that you would have. But I couldn’t ask that of you or your family. Vision would have made it about him some how and lately,” she shakes her head as she feels tears building up. She takes a deep breath. “Lately, whenever your brother doesn’t get his way, my kids pay a price. Hell, even when he does get his way, my kids still suffer.”
Tony nods and takes a drink from his glass, he sighs as the aged scotch goes down smoothly. “I understand your position. Just know that if you ever need help, we are still here for you. Vision can go fuck himself,” he tells her. Wanda laughs a softly as she agrees with his statement. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to convince you into a Maximoff and Stark partnership once again. This one being a profitable business instead of an emotional headache.”
Wanda shrugs, “We’ll see. The future is quite unpredictable after all.”
As you walk through the your apartment building you run through the possibilities of the impending conversation over and over in your mind. The scenarios don’t stop until you see Daisy pacing in front of your door. You check the time on your watch and fill with relief that you’re not late, she’s early.
“Hey,” you say as you sort through your keys to find the one that will unlock the door. Daisy startles as you announce your presence. “Sorry, I didn't mean to,” you notice that she doesn't look too good and you just move to open the door. “Let's just,” you hold it open for her and she walks right past you. “Would you like anything to drink? Water maybe?”
Daisy shakes her head. “No, I don't know how long you'll want me in here after I tell you what I need to tell you.”
You make a face, unsure what she could possibly say that would have you kicking her out of your home. “I have a feeling this is something we should sit for. Come on,” you sit down on the couch and wipe the sweat from your forehead.
“Are you sure you don’t want to shower first? You’ve been working hard all day and I know you how much you hate sitting in–” Daisy rambles on as she paces the living room and you have to cut her off.
“Daisy, I hate waiting even more,” you tell her. “Come, sit,” you pat the space next to you on the sofa.
Daisy stands still and frowns at you. “No you don’t. You are the most patient person I know.”
You nod your head slowly, “I can be patient, that’s true. But I still hate waiting.” You admit to her. “I’ve been worried about you all day, Daisy. I don’t want to be pushy but I want to be able to help you. I can’t do that if you don’t stop stalling and tell me what’s wrong.”
Daisy sits next to you and drops her face into her hands. You sit there and wait for her to collect her thoughts and say something. Anything that will explain her behavior. You bounce your leg as your body decides to show your impatience. The movement has Daisy moving her hands from her face through her hair. “The night we broke up I,” the area around her eyes are red and her nose is pink. She doesn't face you because she can't say this and have you look at her differently. She doesn't know where you stand on a topic like this because every conversation the two of you had on the matter was purely hypothetical. She wanted to keep this to herself because she didn't want you to change in her eyes. She likes you the way you are. “I found out that I had um, sorry this is difficult for me to say.”
You hold your hand out to her, “Daisy, it's okay. Whatever it is,” you trail as she turns her head away from you. “Are you sick?” You ask softly as her shoulders shake.
She turns her head to stare in front of her as she shakes her head and wipes her tears. “No, I'm not sick. That's not the kind of results I had received,” she reaches for the box of tissues in the coffee table and blows her nose. “I found out that I was pregnant,” she finally says.
You feel your heart stop beating and drop to your stomach. You grow nauseous at the news. “Oh,” you grab onto the arm of the couch as if you're going to faint. “I um,” you blink a couple of times. “Is it someone else's?” The words stumble out before you can process the implication.
“I never cheated on you,” she states sharply and she looks at you this time.
“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… I mean, can you blame me for asking? You didn't tell me until today. You broke up with me instead of telling me. I can't think of why you would do that unless the baby wasn't mine or —” you stop talking as you look at her and clamp your mouth shut. Daisy avoids your eye contact as you recall her behavior that night. She didn't want to be a mother. She kept telling you that as she tried to leave. “Oh,” you react again. The tension in your body releases and you try to figure out how you can address this conversation respectfully. “You decided not to go through with the um the uh pregnancy? Is that what you're telling me?” You try to keep your tone even and your features neutral, trying to avoid showing any insensitive emotions out of respect.
Daisy closes her eyes as she starts to sob. “I couldn't go through with it. I'm not ready.” She says through her tears. You nod your head because you don't know what to do or how to properly react. “It wasn't an easy decision, you know? I thought about it for a couple of weeks and I thought about telling you but I was so scared that you would be happy and I would have the baby to please you and I just —”
“Daisy,” you call her name until she stops rambling and you enter her personal space, pulling her against your chest to let her know that you are there for her. “Daisy, I get it. It's okay. I’m not ready for another kid. Shh, shh, it's okay. It's your body, I would have never asked—”
“I know you wouldn't have but I would have done it! For you!” She interrupts. “Because I know how much you love kids and you're a great parent. You're so great with Rachel and I know how much she wants siblings and I just couldn't. I couldn't be the one to give you that. But if I told you, I would have gone through with it and I would have been miserable,” she continues to ramble. You pull back and get her to look you in the eye.
“Daisy, you're not listening,” you say calmly. “Breathe with me. Okay?” She nods with you and you count to four with your fingers as you inhale through your nose. Then you put down the four fingers as you hold. You lift them back up as you exhale. And you repeat the process with Daisy until she appears a little more relaxed. “Daisy, recently I've been asked by my ex-wife to have more kids with her and I told her no. I — this is going to sound horrible but — I wasn't ready to be Rachel's parent. I love her, she is my world. But it took me longer than anyone realizes to be comfortable being her parent. I wasn't ready and I know that a lot of parents will tell you that none of them were ready and that's,” you wave your hand to the side. “It's quite clear that they weren't and I don't think it should be that way.” You shake your head. “Daisy, I'm telling you right now that I'm not ready for another child. When you told me about the pregnancy right now I nearly threw up. You made the right decision. I'm not mad at you. I don't hate you for making this decision on your own. It's your choice, I'm just sorry that I didn't make you feel like you could come to me about this. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you.” Daisy closes her eyes and leans against your chest.
Neither of you talk for a moment. Allowing yourselves to process and accept the truths that each has shared. You think about how that night might’ve gone differently. You wouldn’t have lived with Wanda for almost two weeks. You wouldn’t have gotten as close to Wanda as you have. You would have been having back-and-forth conversations with Daisy. You would have developed a stronger relationship. Maybe. It could have turned sour. She could have grown distant and resented you or herself for the decision. Who knows? That wasn’t what happened. So it doesn’t matter now. But you can’t help but think where you could have been now had things happened differently.
“Did you deal with this alone?” You eventually ask her. Daisy shakes her head against your chest. You’re surprised she is still resting against you because normally she couldn’t stand the smell of your sweat and the other odors that come from manual labor when the two of you were together. “Jemma?” She nods against you. “Can I ask, uh, what… or why did you bring this to me now?” You ask carefully.
You feel Daisy take a deep breath and this is what pulls her away from you. She wipes her face and sits against the back of the couch. She plays with the rings on her fingers and flexes her jaw. “I didn’t get the abortion until a couple of weeks ago,” she admits. “I almost went through with the pregnancy because,” she takes another shaky breath. “Jean was at the same clinic I was at to make the appointment. I spilled my guts to her because Jemma had to leave halfway through since it wasn't the appointment and Jean was there when I had second thoughts. It took me a couple of weeks to even go in because I was in denial for a bit. I didn’t want to believe it was true. Then I saw the sonogram and I,” she shakes her head and looks up to the ceiling. “I had second thoughts.” She shrugs her shoulders and you take one of her hands to offer your support. It’s not an easy decision for most. That's assuming that it's ever an easy decision for anyone. “Jean offered to pay for my doctor bills and prenatal care if I decided to follow through with the pregnancy and gave her and Anna the baby and never told you about any of this.” You drop Daisy’s hand and turn away from her.
You stand up with that nauseous feeling again, not sure what to do about a betrayal of this caliber. You know that Jean has a tendency to do anything and everything to get what she wants when she wants it but… This was too far. “I can’t fucking,” you shake your head. You want to punch a wall or break something but you can’t. You can’t afford the injury. You can’t afford the plaster to fix the wall. You can’t afford to replace the things you have. You can’t afford any of this because you thought you were paying off debts before interest can build on them. You thought you were doing everything right. You thought you could trust Jean. You can’t believe she would go so far as to put Daisy through something like this.
“Please don’t hate me,” Daisy begs, “I was confused and I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I only said yes at first because I thought you would be allowed to be in their life and I thought you would like that and–”
“I’m not upset with you,” you cut her off. “It’s not your fault,” you try to focus on your breathing but you can’t calm down. You can’t focus on anything. You don’t know how someone can be so deranged. You look at Daisy and you feel so guilty for what happened to her. The position she was put in. It makes sense why one day Jean is ready to cut your head off for saying no and then next she’s perfectly fine. What kind of person could be so deceptive? What kind of person… you huff through your nose. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” you say to Daisy in the softest tone you could muster up. “You shouldn’t have… She shouldn’t’ve…” you shake your head and close your eyes.
Daisy stands up and takes your white-knuckled fist and massages the tight skin until you release your grip. “I am going to be okay. I probably shouldn’t have told you. I just, I don’t know. At first the offer was that I just give them the baby. I wrongfully assumed that also meant giving you the baby. Then she eventually told me that you would not know that the baby was even yours,” she shakes her head. “I couldn’t put myself in the middle of this. I couldn’t put anyone in the middle of that. I didn't want to be part of why Rachel’s parents grew to hate each other. You guys are such healthy examples for her.” You begin to grow upset again thinking about how Jean deceived Daisy. How she was ready to deceive you. It was one thing to ask you to knowingly not be allowed in your child's life. But to go behind your back and essentially kidnap what almost was your child… you couldn’t believe it.
“When I had the chance to think about it, I didn’t want to give birth. I couldn’t go through with it so without telling her, I went through with the abortion because that’s what I wanted.” Daisy closes her eyes as tears slip out and she continues to rub your hand. Something she learned that can keep you grounded. “The only thing that has been tearing me apart about this whole thing is how much of it was being kept from you. I haven’t been able to sleep because of it. You deserve to know.”
“Thank you for telling me,” you state as you watch her rub your hands. You clench your jaw as your eyebrows knit together. Normally an action like this would calm you down but the information was far too upsetting. “I need to go for a walk or something. I don’t know. I just can’t be here right now.” You pull your hand away.
“I don’t think you should be alone,” Daisy tries to pull you back to her.
“Trust me, right now, that’s what’s best for everyone,” you say as you hold your hand up to stop her from coming any closer to you. Daisy stares at you, wanting to be in your arms again. Wanting to feel that comfort that you brought her. Both in the past and just before she dropped the bomb on you. But you weren't someone that sought after touch when you were going through something. You retreated. You isolated yourself. At least, that's what you did when you were with her. She might never know that there are other sides to you. Especially not after tonight.
“Okay,” she says just above a whisper. “Okay,” she repeats as she walks to the exit. “I'm sorry for everything, again,” she says as she steps into the hallway. “Please, don't do anything stupid.” She disappears, leaving the door open.
You stare at the door as you think of what you want to do. You think about getting into your car but you're afraid that if you do, you'll drive into a tree or worse. You'll drive to Jean’s house. You couldn't do that to Rachel. You check that you have your keys, phone, and wallet in your pockets and then you lock up your apartment on your way out. Stepping out onto the concrete sidewalk outside of your apartment building you look every which way. There are bars and restaurants down each way. You could easily find somewhere to drink but that's not what you want to do. So you start walking.
You walk aimlessly for a long time. You walk until your legs begin to ache and your feet begin to hurt. You find yourself at a dock, there are many boats parked but you find a space without one. You sit at the ledge and look out to the water and breathe. The smell of the salty water is calming. You watch as the water moves causing the reflection of the lights to dance. You allow yourself to grieve because even though you didn't want another child, you contributed to almost bringing another life into the world. It was a weird feeling. You're not upset with Daisy for making her choice, you are grateful to her. But you still feel the loss. You didn't understand the feeling but you let yourself feel it. Because even though you don't understand why you feel the way that you do, you don't have to justify or explain it to anyone. You can just allow yourself to feel whatever you want to.
Then you grieve the relationship you thought you had with Jean. You can't believe she would pull something like this. You don't understand where an idea like that would come from out of her. You don't know how you'll be able to move past this. You feel like she took everything the two of you built together over the years and tore it apart bit by bit. You feel disgusting. You feel used. You take deep breaths as you feel it all. Hoping to release it in a healthy way. It was done, there wasn't much else that you could do about it now except to confront her. You couldn't do that until Sunday.
When you stand up to leave, you slip and fall into the water. You don't try to swim at first. You let the water move you. Trusting that it won't take you away. That it won't pull you under and shorten your time on this planet. You just float in the water. Eventually, the need for air is too great and you swim up until you break the surface with a big gasp.
You pull yourself up onto the dock and start walking home. You are grateful for the bulky phone case when you pull it out of your pocket to find that the phone is perfectly fine. You use the map application in order to navigate your way home. When you arrive at your destination you shower and eat a microwavable meal. You fall into your bed after taking a sleep aid and fall asleep.
The next day, at work, Wanda stops by the job site around lunch time. You walk into Pietro’s office and find the two of them laughing with takeaway meals in front of them. You still feel horrible from the night before. But hearing her laugh heals the wounds inside your heart.
“Y/n!” Wanda grins. “I brought you something too,” she holds up a container. You look at the container and try not to show that you have anything wrong with you by forcing on a smile.
“You didn't have to,” you say as you move to the sink to wash your hands before you join them. “I appreciate this. Is there an occasion I'm not aware of?” You ask as you open the container. The aroma of your favorite food should have made you happier, instead you began to feel nauseous again. It has nothing to do with the food or Wanda's presence and everything to do with the feelings that you're suppressing.
“No, I had lunch with Tony yesterday and it reminded me how much I enjoy having lunch with other people,” she shrugs. “Isolation can become a bit of a downside when it comes to working from home for me sometimes.”
You nod, “Makes sense. Why don't you do the hybrid method? That's what Daisy did with school. She would do online classes and in-person classes,” you suggest before you take a bite. You chew slowly because you do need to eat. No matter how sick you're feeling.
“That's a good idea,” Pietro agrees. “You could finally get better acquainted with the rest of the staff.”
Wanda makes a distasteful face, “I don't know. Getting to know people always leads to getting stuck in the middle of their drama.” She shakes her head. “I think I have enough of my own.”
Pietro shrugs, “You never know. Sometimes it's good to hear about other people's drama. It makes your life sound better. Why do you think I still talk to you? Just because you're my sister?” Wanda’s eyes widen and she punches her brother on his shoulder. “Hey! It's not my fault, you have the most dramatic life out of anyone I know! Y/n,” he nudges you, “back me up here!”
You are snapped out of your head and try to catch up with the conversation. You look between them cluelessly. “I'm sorry, I probably have her beat when it comes to a dramatic life.”
Pietro shakes his head, “What are you talking about? Other than that baby thing, you are relatively drama free. That drama even ended pretty well from what I remember.”
You feel a little light headed as you are reminded by the development of that issue. That there is a new ending to the situation. But you don't tell him. You don't want to tell him. You're not even sure you want to tell Wanda. Not right now at least. You nod, “Yeah, I guess you're right.” You turn to Wanda with a playful shrug. “Sorry, I tried.” Wanda shakes her head and the three of you share a laugh.
“Whatever,” Wanda mutters as she stabs her salad with her fork.
When lunch is over, you walk Wanda out to her car. You're quiet as she talks to you about her current project and updating you on her boys. Then she asks you if you are okay because you seem a little off. You shrug and stop when you reach the car. “Um the other day, Jean and Anna asked me to move my workshop out of their shed,” you scratch behind your ear. Feeling queasy saying her name.
“Your workshop?” Wanda asks as she unlocks her car.
“Yeah, just my tools and some leftover materials that I used on my last order,” you explain as you open the car door for her.
“Last order? What do you mean?” Wanda reaches over and sets her purse on the passenger seat but she doesn't sit in her car just yet.
“I have a little side business. Haven't I told you about it before?” You are surprised with yourself that you haven't mentioned this to her before. You try to think of a time that you might've brought it up before but you come up with nothing. There just hasn't been a reason to. Wanda shakes her head as she does the same. “Ah well, I have a small business. I take custom orders. Anything that someone wants built, I build it.” You pull out your phone and show her your website. “Just something to help with the bills whenever I can't get a lot of hours.” She takes your phone and nods, impressed by the stuff you have built in the past. “Anyway, the reason it's on my mind, they want me to move my stuff out of the shed. I can't really afford a place to be able to store everything and be able to have the space to work on orders.”
“I have a shed that, admittedly, could use some care,” she says as she hands you back your phone. “You could set up shop in there, at no cost, of course.”
“Wanda, I can't take you up on that offer,” you resist.
“Yes, you can,” she insists. “Why couldn't you?”
You look away and lick your lips as you are reminded of the night she rejected you. “I would need a lot of access to it when or really if I get another order. I don't know if it's a good idea for us to spend that much time together.”
Wanda nods as she understands where you're coming from. “Technically we wouldn't be spending any of that time together. You'd be working and I would be inside my house or doing something. Come on, we're friends. Let me help you with this.”
You focus your eyes back to hers and you think about just how much she has been helping you. It doesn't feel like there is a balance in the friendship with how often she helps you compared to how often you help her. “I don't know Wanda,” you say as you bite your bottom lip in thought. You can't think of a good reason to say no so you don't. You shrug and nod at her. “Okay, yeah, I will take you up on that offer. Thank you, Wanda. I really appreciate it. Is it okay if I bring it all by on Sunday?”
Wanda smiles and nods, “Of course, come by then. I'm sure the boys will be happy to see you and Rachel again. They were pretty upset about not having you guys there last week.”
“Yeah, Rachel wasn't happy about it either. She prefers cooking with you a lot more than she does with me,” you say with a soft laugh. Wanda smiles at her shoes as she thinks about how much she prefers cooking with you over anyone else. She looks back up and locks eyes with you. She feels like an idiot for pushing you away but she doesn't feel ready to tell you how she feels about you.
“I'll see you on Sunday,” she says and you nod as you repeat her departing words as you step away from her. You wave as she drives off and you go back to work without thinking about your problems with Jean and instead thinking about Wanda and how pretty she looked today.
Saturday night you can't sleep. You toss and turn even after taking a sleep aid. Your heart pounds as your mind races about seeing Jean the next day. You can't stop running through scenarios of confronting her. Are you going to do it right away? Are you going to choke? Is the sight of her going to make you nauseous? Or worse. Is it going to cause you to actually vomit? Will you be able to see her without getting angry? You're going to have to be there longer than you want to because you have to load your truck with your stuff but are you going to make it through? You don't know. And you're exhausted by the anticipation.
You are lucky to get in a nap before you have to pick up Rachel. You have to drink two cups of coffee before you feel awake enough to drive. On the drive over, you are yet again practicing what you're going to say when you arrive. You yawn as you park and shake your head to get you ready to knock on the door. You stare at the house as you try to remember that she is your friend. She was your favorite person once upon a time. You loved her. But it's all tainted now. She has slowly burned you out and ripped you to shreds.
You step out of your truck and knock on the door. You look at the welcome mat to keep yourself calm as you wait. When there's no response, you ring the doorbell. You take slow breaths as you try to clear your mind. You can't think about what Daisy told you in front of Rachel.
Anna is the one to open the door. Since Daisy hadn't mentioned her, you can tell yourself that she isn't someone that you should be upset with and you can tell yourself that she has no idea. At least until you can figure out when to confront them about this. You walk through the house to get to your stuff in the backyard but when you bring the tools to your truck you go through the gate that leads to the front instead of going through the house. You don't say anything to Anna, you don't even ask why she's the only person you've seen so far. You just focus on your task. Move your tools from the shed to your truck. When you're done, Rachel greets you with a tight hug that you are happy to reciprocate. It's a relief to see her and to hold her.
Jean is on the phone in the kitchen and you don't feel the desire to interrupt her conversation just to confront her. You decide to leave it alone. You take Rachel to the car and help her get inside. “Did you hear the good news?” Rachel asks as you get settled in the driver's seat. You shake your head and ask her what the good news is. “I'm having a baby brother! My mommies said so. I'm going to be a big sister!” Your heart stops as your entire body freezes. How could they tell her something like that? How do they even know what the gender would have been?
“Wait right here, I need to ask your mommies something,” you tell your daughter with a tight voice. You climb out of the truck and walk to the front door. This time, you enter without knocking and walk up to Jean as she ends her phone call. “How dare you,” you start bitterly. Jean is thrown off and her confused smile drops. “How dare you put Daisy in that kind of position. How dare you tell our daughter that she's going to be a big sister before there is a baby. There isn't going to be a baby! There never should have been. You shouldn't have tried to talk Daisy out of her decision. You are a cisgendered female, you should have some respect when it comes to another woman making a decision about her life and her body. Not only that, you are my best friend. Or at least you used to be. I thought you would have enough respect for me to tell me the moment you found out about Daisy's pregnancy. I was mistaken to believe the lies you told me but I will not allow that behavior to affect our daughter. So you better be a thousand percent certain when it comes to something as big as a sibling coming into her life before you tell her anything!” You take a split second to decide whether or not to continue and with how upset you are, you can't stop yourself. “And I was going to let Daisy tell you this herself but I will do what you should have done. She went through with her decision. There won't be a baby. Now I suggest that you either start looking into fostering or adopting — no. You should get your fucking head checked be clearly you are out of your fucking mind, Jean!” Jean slaps you clear across your face. The slap was loud and the impact was hard. It stings and you lift your hand up to your face in shock.
“Get out!” Anna shouts from behind you. You are shaking with anger. You weren't aware that you had gotten so furious with the situation. You try to say more but Anna won't let you. Jean is in tears and looking down at her hand, shocked by her own actions. Anna steps in between you and her wife. “Get the fuck out of my house Y/n! Get out! Get out!” She starts pushing you backwards. You hold your hands up and shake your head.
“You're both unbelievable. I'm going,” you walk out after Anna's last shove. You can't believe the reactions. You can't believe the lack of accountability. You storm across the yard and climb into the truck.
“What's wrong?” Rachel asks in a scared little voice. You feel terrible seeing her shaken up. You sigh and close your eyes before you look at her.
“Nothing sweetheart,” you say as softly as you can. “Nothing, let's just… we're going to go home and I'm going to go for a run and then maybe we'll stop by Wanda’s house to drop all of this stuff off later. How does that sound?” You try to make her feel more at ease.
“Why can't we go to Ms. Wanda’s first? I really want to see Tommy and Billy and tell them about the good news!” She asks innocently and you have to close your eyes to calm down. You open them and start the engine. You need to distance yourself from this house. From Jean and Anna. You're starting to wonder if your ex’s behavior is being instigated by her wife. You aren't sure how you can find out. But it's definitely something to look into with the lengths she's gone through to make this idea of theirs happen.
“Honey, mommies were mistaken. You're not going to be a big sister,” you correct her.
Rachel frowns, “Yes I am. They said so. My mommies don't lie to me, Baba.”
“I know that sweetheart, that's why I said that they were mistaken. That's not the same as lying, it's more like they didn't know what they were telling you wasn't true,” you take a second to glance at her. “Does that make sense to you?” Rachel nods with tears building in her eyes. “Awe baby girl, what's wrong?”
“I really wanted to be a big sister,” she says as she wipes her tears. You feel bad as you continue to drive.
“I know sweetie, I know,” you sigh as you start to reconsider their proposal. But you quickly shove that thought out of your mind. You cannot allow your daughters disappointment to change your mind on a matter of this magnitude. “Do you still want to go to Wanda’s first?”
“Yes please,” she says as she continues to wipe her face. “I want to see my friends.” You want to calm down before you see Wanda. You don't want to pull her into more of your problems. But you feel bad enough for taking away your daughters smile. So you suck it up and drive to Wanda’s house. You text her that you're on the way when you stop at a red light.
When you pull up the driveway, Wanda is waiting outside with a smile. She knocks on the window and talks as you roll it down. “I don't care what you say, I'm helping you move the stuff into the shed.” Her wide smiles drops to an expression of concern when she sees the red mark on your cheek. She looks further into the truck and sees Rachel's face is red from crying. “What happened?” She looks you over and you shake your head.
“Nothing, why do you ask?” You say, oblivious to the evidence on your face while you try to hide your frustration from the day.
Wanda leans in as close as she can get. “Have you looked in the mirror?” She says in a low whisper.
Your eyebrows knit together and you frown before you drop the visor mirror to check yourself out. Then you see the mark and you shut it. You want to curse yourself for not going home first. “I can't talk about it right now. Can we start moving this stuff?” Wanda nods and allows you to get out of the vehicle. You walk to the other side to help Rachel down before you start to take stuff down from your truck. You hand some boxes to Wanda and she leads the way to her shed. She talks the entire way about how she spent her entire Saturday reorganizing the entire space. You hardly listen as your mind replays the last hour. How Jean slapped you and Anna pushed you. How angry you felt — no, feel.
Once the pair of you set the boxes down Wanda asks again what happened and the words come out of you before you can stop them. You tell her everything from running into Jemma to what happened with Jean just moments ago. Wanda is quiet as she stands there and processes. She doesn't look at you as she does. You shift your weight uncomfortably as you wait for a response. When she finally moves you don't expect her to hug you the way that she does. She holds you tightly in a warm embrace that breaks your walls down.
“I'm so sorry,” she whispers against your chest as you break down in tears and she rubs your back. You let her hold you and comfort you in ways that you hardly ever allowed anyone to take care of you. You allow her to witness a side of vulnerability that you rarely let many see.
After a bit of time the both of you stop crying. You and Wanda sneak into the house and each go to a bathroom in order to wash your faces and then get back to work. Together the truck gets emptied of the tools and materials in an impressive amount of time and was put away in the shed. When the both of you finish, Wanda gets a phone call and excuses herself to answer. You follow her inside to wash your hands.
You get a message from Nebula and you feel slightly guilty when you do. You open the message and you clench your jaw as she admits how much she likes you and asks when she can see you next. The two of you went out on a date shortly after Wanda rejected you. It was an okay date but with everything going on, it doesn't feel right. You close your phone and head upstairs to check on the kids. As you do so you pass Wanda's office. Her door is slightly ajar. You don't mean to listen in but when you hear the words, “Thank you for introducing me… yeah he has made me feel things I haven't felt before,” and, “I feel like he understands me better than I understand me.” You feel your heart sink. You continue to walk to check on the kids as you try to tell yourself that you didn't hear the entire conversation so you couldn't possibly know what she was talking about. But a small voice in the back of your head is telling you that she rejected you because she found someone else. A reality that you'll have to accept if you and Wanda are going to continue to be friends.
After you check on the kids you schedule another date with Nebula for the next Sunday after you drop Rachel off. Then you continue on with your night with Wanda and the kids. Doing your best to keep your mind off of everything else.
Chapter 19
Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiofthemultifandom @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters @bittysworld @hopeless-romantic17177 @spongebobtentacles @the-ox-fan20 @shaniiwm
#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff au#wanda marvel#fanfiction#messedupfan#wanda fanfic#wanda x you#wanda x reader#wanda x y/n#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x y/n#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader
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also I’m so far from moving but when I eventually move (hopefully this year or next year) do y’all want pictures of how I decorate my room?
#deity dialogue#I’m just excited by the idea of having my own room and being able to actually decorate it#this isn’t to say that I haven’t been able to decorate to some degree while sharing a room#but just that it’s hard for either of us to really decorate because space and like cats and such#and in the past even when I had my own room I was never able to decorate for various reasons#I’m gonna paint my walls#I’m thinking like a muted pink#because I realized I obvs want pink walls but in the last they’ve all been a shade of pink that I didn’t fully vibe with (I didn’t choose#the colour other ppl did) and then I realized I can just choose a different shade there are other shades of pink lol#idk I’m just so excited to paint my own room#I’m trying to figure out what colours like pink and ??? maybe pink and black accents? who knows#I wanna get a l little take china cabinet for my glass items to be safe#I’ve been alwyas on the look out for nice frames for my post cards to no avail#I also want somewhere to displace my fancy bear collection + katrina the fancy cat#also one of my bears vanished beargundy is missing idk where he went I miss him :(#anyways it’s very excited for lex and kait and I to think of how we’re gonna decorate the house we keep throwing around ideas#at a thrift store I got this really cute lantern thingy to decorate with as well#just#I loveee decorating#our house is gonna be so organized
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Sukuna with clingy concubine 🛐🛐 like hella clingy, always clinging to sukuna, sitting on his lap and just following sukuna like a lost puppy
𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine! female reader. fluff. little bit suggestive. size difference. reader is clingy, a bit of an airhead ig. reader gets called ‘girl, brat’.
“y’re annoying me, girl,” sukuna grumbles as he walks to the courtyard. you had magically appeared behind him the moment he stepped out of his room to get some fresh air.
you flash him an apologetic smile “i’m sorry, my lord.” you’re not sorry, sukuna knows, though he doesn’t comment on it. it’s been like this ever since a week or two ago. he cannot recall why you’re suddenly so much more affectionate.
he doesn’t wait on you, however, and takes big strides towards the courtyard. if your little legs can’t keep up, that isn’t his problem. you frown and take on the challenge that’s been thrown your way.
you increase your pace and nearly run after sukuna. you have to lift your kimono a little to make sure you wouldn’t trip over the fabric. it doesn’t seem like you’ll give up any time soon as you follow him with that same content expression on your face.
sukuna can’t believe that a human like you dares to even be in his presence for so long. he didn’t call for you, so why are you adamant on staying with him? he concludes that something must be up, “what’d you want from me?”
there hangs a silence between you two afterwards. sukuna’s slow yet heavy footsteps reverberate through the hallway, followed by your quick and light ones. you pout as you notice that the king of curses isn’t even sparing you a glance, “nothing at all. i just like to be with you.”
you add the latter as an afterthought. you don’t expect sukuna to react to that, so you continue to trail behind him into the courtyard. “tch,” you hear him scoff in annoyance. you’re sure he doesn’t mean any actual harm by that, so you don’t take it personally.
sukuna eventually sits down on the engawa, where the servants have placed the comfy zabuton cushions. there’s always one for you as well—right next to sukuna’s. it’s become a habit for the maids to include you in sukuna’s daily routines since you’re always with him.
you eye your own cushion, though don’t make an effort to actually sit down on it. sukuna stares ahead, not bothered to notice you at the moment. you look down at his lap, recalling just how perfectly you can fit on it.
you don’t waste any more time and plop down on his thick thighs, your back against his chest. sukuna’s brow twitches at the sudden contact. his bottom pair of eyes look down at you whilst the upper ones keep looking at the nature in front of you both.
“get off me,” the king of curses commands through a low tone. he doesn’t push you off, however. that alone should tell you enough; he’s tolerating your behaviour as per usual. or perhaps he secretly likes your proximity.
you shall never discover which of the two it actually is.
“nooooooo,” you exaggerate with a whine. you don’t want to. you wrap both of your arms around one of sukuna’s—clinging onto him like your life depends on it. he simply responds by sighing.
you know sukuna’s able to grab you by the collar and force you to sit down on the cushion beside him, but he doesn’t. your heart flutters every time sukuna shows some tolerance to your clingy behavior. it means that maybe—just maybe—he’s opening up to the idea of being more affectionate with you.
“such a fuckin’ brat,” sukuna simply puts one hand on your waist, the others supporting his weight on the engawa. he grumbles, but there are clear signs of him relaxing with you in his presence.
you chuckle at the realisation and swing your legs in excitement. sukuna unexpectedly bites your ear in response to your increased activity on his lap, “stay still or i’ll kick you off.”
you let out a small whimper as you feel his fangs gently sick into your earlobe. you jolt back and rub the skin with your hand, looking up at sukuna with a playful frown before teasing him back. you roll your eyes and answer him with a firm yet mocking, “sir yes, sir!”
sukuna clicks his tongue at your tease. you answer him like he’s some general in the military. that’s not the kind of relationship he has with you—it’s more than that. even though he knows you’re joking, he dislikes it when you call him anything other than ‘my lord’, ‘my king’, or just his name.
he finds great satisfaction in the way you refer to him as such. you’re the only one who can make sukuna grin each time you remind him of his status and the power he has over you.
the power dynamic; it’s addictive.
he needs more of it.
sukuna reaches out to grab your face with one hand, but you’re quick to pull your head back the moment you see that intimidatingly big hand coming down onto your vision. you clear your throat and apologise, “i mean—yes, my lord.”
the king of curses hums in content. that title is exactly what he had been looking for. he retracts his hand and settles it back down on your waist, patting your sides twice to show his satisfaction with your obedience.
you stop squirming around in his lap and simply lay back down in his arms. you close your eyes and nearly fall asleep because of the comfortable atmosphere. the slight breeze against your face is relaxing and perfectly compliments the warmth from sukuna’s body.
what a perfect way to spend your day.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna fluff#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#jjk imagines
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talk | op81
summary: oscar loves to talk your ear off.
word count: 1,276
masterlist — join my tag list here!
© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.
everyone who had told you that oscar piastri wasn’t much of a talker was a bold-faced liar.
that, or maybe they just never got to see that side of him.
before you started dating oscar, you totally believed it. the first few interactions the two of you had were awkward and brief, usually ending in you thinking that he actually hated you and only engaged in small talk to be nice.
the oscar you know now is nothing like the oscar you first met, and even though you’ve been with him for the better part of two years, his ability to talk for hours is still as shocking to you as it was in the beginning.
it started out innocently enough. the first time you hadn’t been able to attend a race, oscar called you the moment he was back in his hotel room. you’d only been dating for five months at that point, and you vividly remember your shock when you accepted the facetime call and he started talking at a mile a minute. you’d barely gotten out a “hello” before he started recapping his entire day in precise detail. he didn’t even stop to take a drink of water in his enthusiasm.
that turned into the two of you developing a routine. every time you couldn’t make it to a race, oscar would call you at the end of the day and tell you everything he’d been dying to tell you.
“you could text me some of this stuff, you know,” you told him once, and he had wrinkled his nose cutely.
“why would i text it to you when i can just tell you about it on the phone?” he’d responded, like your suggestion was completely outlandish.
it’s endearing, really, the way he’s always so excited every time you pick up the phone. like he is right now.
“hi, honey!” he says brightly the moment the call connects and you can see each other’s faces.
“hey, oz,” you smile, your mood immediately lifting at the sound of his voice. “how was your day?”
“oh, i have so much to tell you,” he leans forward, his hair obscuring the camera for a moment before he leans back with a piece of paper in his hand.
“what is that?” you ask, watching as he unfolds it.
“this, my love, is my list.” he says, turning it around so you can see the way the page is full of his writing, not only on the lines but in the margins, too. “if i can read my own handwriting.”
“busy day?” you pull the hood of your sweatshirt further over your head so it covers more of your screen.
“you have no idea. i don’t even know where to start.” he sighs, eyes scanning the paper before he looks back up at the camera. “but i want to hear about your day first.”
“ah, it was okay. boring. i got so used to traveling around with you that i don’t know what to do now that i’m home all by myself.” it’s a lie, of course.
you wouldn’t miss oscar’s birthday for the world, and that was why you’d been so believable when you told him that you were so sorry, but you couldn’t make it to japan for the next race. even thinking about not being with him for his birthday was enough to upset you, so he bought it easily. conspiring with mark and lando, you’d gotten your hands on a plane ticket and formed a plan to get to the hotel with oscar being none the wiser.
which is how you’re here, at the end of the hallway on his hotel floor, waiting for the perfect time to interject.
“oh, i have to tell you about how free practice went, the second session, not the first,” he’s saying, squinting a little at the paper. “i wrote it over something else and i can’t see what it says. whatever. anyway, it’s raining here, and, like, half the cars didn’t end up going out for the second session. i was just trying to do my best for the session but i ended up setting the fastest lap! i didn’t even know until i got out of the car. did you watch? i don’t know if you did, i forgot to ask you, but i think it was a 1:34 or something like that. i could’ve been faster, obviously, but it was raining. its still raining right now actually which kind of sucks. i wouldn’t mind if you were here, but it’s just miserable and cold.” he pauses to take a breath. “wait, where are you?”
well that you weren’t expecting. “at home… where else would i be?” you reply, hoping that your confusion looks genuine.
“your background looks… i dunno.” he presses his lips together. “doesn’t look the same.”
“well, i’m at home,” you repeat, trying to come up with something on the fly. “pretending that i’m talking to you face to face instead of through the phone, like always.”
“ah, yeah. i do that all the time,” he admits, giving up on his scrutinization of what little he can see behind your hood.
“i miss you,” he says then, and its absolute hell knowing you can’t knock on his door just yet.
“i miss you too, oz.” you whisper. “keep telling me about your day?”
“sure, honey.” he gives you a soft smile, once again consulting his piece of paper. “so after the second session, i went and got dinner— oh wait, i forgot to tell you what happened earlier! i left the hotel room—”
you were hoping to let him tire himself out a bit from talking so much before approaching the door, but with every little detail of his day he shares you wish more and more that he was saying it directly to you and not through the phone, so you give up on being patient and knock three times.
“hold on, baby. someone’s at the door.” he says on the other end of the call, getting up from where he’s sitting on the bed and leaving his phone behind, so you end the call to free both of your hands.
the look on his face when he opens the door is priceless. “you’re joking.”
“i figured you should tell me the rest in person,” you say. “besides, i’d be damned if i missed your birthday.”
“you’re joking,” he repeats, pulling you and your suitcase into the room and wrapping you into a tight hug. “you’re actually here.”
“of course i’m here.” you laugh, kissing his shoulder through the loose material of his worn out t-shirt. “i don’t want to be anywhere else but here.”
“i’m so happy,” is all your enthusiastic, talkative boyfriend says before kissing you, smiling against your lips the whole time.
“you hung up on me?” its the first thing he says once the two of you are cuddled up in bed, and your jaw drops.
“seriously? i’m right here, and you’re gonna come for me for hanging up on you?”
“i would never hang up on you, but whatever,” he rolls his eyes, but cuddles you closer all the same. “okay, you have to know what lando told me last night about this one thing he did over winter break. it doesn’t sound bad at first, but i promise you it gets so much worse.”
you sigh in content, happier than anything to be in oscar’s arms and listening to him talk your ear off for the foreseeable future. you would never lie about it— you don’t want to be anywhere else but here, with him.
note: happy oscar dayyy!! wishing my fellow aries the best birthday ever and i hope you all enjoyed this 🫶🏼 i low key hate it but hopefully that’s just me lolz
my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!
reblogs are greatly appreciated <33
tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @lightsoutletsgo
#blurb#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri fluff#op81 x reader#op81 x you#op81 imagine#op81 fanfic#op81 fluff#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one imagine#formula one fanfic#formula one fluff#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 fluff#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fluff
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could you be more obvious? l MV1
a/n: thissss is based on a request I got and ofc I added the Verstappen twins <3 this is messy I’m sorry but I’m on a writing mood
summary: you show up pregnant for the first race of 2024, just six months after Max won his 3rd WDC.
Max being crowned world champion for the third time was something that made your skin buzz with excitement, a knot form in your throat seeing everything he’s achieved and the pride and satisfaction of knowing that every single person on the team had his back, was definitely one of the best sights.
But for Luca and Mila Verstappen, their papa being champion again time wasn’t exactly a big deal… they knew it was important because there were lots of fireworks and special tshirts, but they were born watching Max a champion, they only knew him as such.
what, like it’s a big deal?
They didn’t say it, but you knew that’s what was on their mind.
That was the reason why both Max and you decided to not bring the twins to Qatar, especially with the high temperatures and Luca’s history of getting sick during Grand Prix weekends, they were more than happy to stay with auntie Vic while you got ready to celebrate your husband.
And God, did you celebrate him.
Without the twins, the gin and tonics kept coming, the sloppy make out session on the VIP area of the club as if you were teenagers again, his front pressed against your back as he tried to impress you with his best moves, only to earn a couple of drunken giggles and peck on the lips.
Things were starting to quiet down, lots of people had already left to their hotel room, but you and Max were on a world of your own, with you sitting on top of him, but the moment you started feeling his lips ghosting against your neck, his hands moving from your waist to squeeze your hip.
and you knew it was time to go.
Bahrain, 2024
Max didn’t remember being so excited for race day. Yes, he was anxious for the new season, but the highlight of his day was seeing you getting ready, a loose blouse and white jeans accentuating the noticeable belly of six months of pregnancy, which was a complete surprise to everyone.
You entered the paddock through the main entrance, with photographers everywhere and Kym Ilman greeting your family, because the scene was worth more than a couple thousand likes on Instagram: you were holding Mila’s hand who in return was holding Luca’s, while Max walked with his arm protectively around your belly.
The twins weren’t exactly thrilled about the idea of having a baby brother or sister, a fact they made clear by asking every day if there was any chance to stop the baby from coming home eventually, telling you and Max that they were more than okay having the cats. Sadly, they were the only ones
“No! No! No! Is that why you went MIA on social media? Oh my God look at this bump! Congratulations you two,” Lily let go of Alex’s hand to give you a tight hug as Alex congratulated Max with a couple of pats on the back.
The scene repeated itself with most drivers on the grid, who didn’t ask how far along you were, but were able to deduce the situation. Until…
“How far along are you?” Charles asked you as he held Luca on his arms, letting him mess with his hair.
You blushed and Max’s chest puffed as if he has been waiting for the question. “I’m a couple of days away from the six months mark,”
Charles looked as if he was doing a very specific and difficult math problem as his girlfriend, Alexandra, stares at him with a faint blush on her cheeks, probably since she has always been more reserved around you because she was younger, but she was impatiently waiting for her boyfriend to catch on the situation.
“This is a 2023 season baby?” Charles asked.
“Looks like it,” Max answered with a smug smile on his face, but in reality it was an excited grin which reached his blue eyes.
“No…” Charles jaw dropped and had to put Luca on the floor.
“No what?” Max counter asked, even if he knew the answer. This time he started drawing mindless shapes on the clothes over your swollen stomach.
“Max… is this your championship child?” Charles whispered, shocked.
“What can I say? Winning on and off the track!”
And Charles almost passed out as both you and Max laughed, beaming while interlacing your fingers over your belly, knowing cameras wouldn’t catch you there.
user1: Max knocked y/n up the night of the third championship change my mind
user2: Max Verstappen pulled a k-mag and I respect that
user3: do we know the birthday of the verstappen twins? Asking for a friend
user4: y/n and max will have a full kindergarten if they have a kid every time he wins the championship💀
user5: are we really surprised after those videos leaked of max squeezing her ass while they were celebrating the 3rd wdc
user6: if the maths are mathing this baby will be born around the Monaco gp. GODS PLAN
#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen blurb#max verstappen au#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen x you#dad!max verstappen#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 fic#max verstappen fluff
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finding you ₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺
— wandanat x fem/afab!reader
༺ tw || discussions of sexual acts/kinks but nothing (yet), reader deals with stress/anxiety, dom/sub dynamic/relationship, dom natasha/wanda w/ sub reader, reader’s personality is described to be shy/anxious/introverted, not proofread
༺ a/n || I’ve never personally been in a dom/sub relationship, so if I get things wrong that’s why! If you’re getting into one— don’t use this as a guide/reference 😭
— 🌷masterlist ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ 3.2k words₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺ next part🌻 —
The city was truly a different world at night just with the way everything seems to take a breath of life. It was cooler, a breeze making its way through the buildings to cause goosebumps on any person walking by. It was cold enough that your friend had thought to try and hurdle you under their jacket, something you forgot to bring.
They didn’t seem to mind, pulling you under the warm blanket of a coat and rushing the two of you towards your apartment. You had just finished dinner—using it as a way to bond and meet up since work has separated you both for too long—and now we’re heading back to your apartment.
“You’re back,” one of your roommates speaks up from their location on the couch, “how was dinner?”
“Great, but I was freezing. You were right about bringing a jacket tonight, I really should’ve.”
“The winds tunnel through these buildings, it’s always good to pack a jacket.”
“Yes well thank you. Is it alright if my friend stays over?”
Your roommates waves a hand, dismissing her claim and focusing back on the tv show. The sounds of whatever bachelor show was playing quiets once you’ve shut your door behind you.
Your friend pins you with a look as she lays down flat into your bed, “what’s the deal with that person from work?”
“It’s really nothing, I think some people are just going through a rough time.”
“Okay well whatever—babe, it’s still not okay.”
There’s a creak in your bed once you’ve decided to join her, the old thing hanging on since you’ve not been able to afford a new one.
“Yeah sure they’ve made some rude comments, but they weren’t that bad.”
“Not to mention they also stole your idea and they’ve been aggressive towards you for no reason—tell them that they’re being a bitch.”
The emotions liked to confrontation are like sinking to the bottom of a body of water, suffocating. Your friend lies beside you, waiting, but her raised eyebrows give away her impatience, waiting to argue with you over your hesitation. A sigh makes it way out, a vocalization of how you’re feeling on the inside, “I really don’t know if I need to.”
“It’s less of a have to and more of a should do. Just be a bitch back,” she makes a poor attempt at reeling in her aggression after your expression of disgust, “or at least talk to someone higher up.”
“I’ll maybe talk to someone later—“ you put a hand up to silence her oncoming attack “—and that’s it. I appreciate you caring.”
“I just want you to be able to stand up for yourself.”
“I know, and I love you for that, but I’m done with stressful topics. I’d like to just talk about exciting things.”
She deadpans, “but this fun.”
A laugh filled amusement fills the room, your foot coming to shove her. There’s a pause after, ears turning into the smaller and more minute sounds. Dramatic stage music, though silenced by your door, it’s loud enough to still make an entrance in your room along with the sirens outside. The sheets rustle as your friend moves onto her side, body facing towards you. It was a gentle breeze until she began to fight off a grin, the thoughts in her mind almost driving a crazed expression in her face.
“Have you thought anymore about what I said?”
“You talk a lot, which of those many conversations are you mentioning?”
“The stress-relieving one.”
The words are quick to bring a similar crazed expression on your own face, one similar to your friend’s but more terrified.
“No.”
“Aw come on. I do it and it’s worked wonders, I still know—“
“I’ve heard enough for one night, you’re too public with it—how’re you not embarrassed?”
She rolls, resting her head on you, “you’re shy, I’m not. I don’t care what others say.”
“You’re weird.”
Her shoulders upturned in a shrugging motion, the vibration from her low hum ticking your stomach. The floor creeks again when she slings her feet off the mattress to find something to eat, leaving you alone for a minute. It seemed to stretch forever due to waiting every second to ask her a burning question. It was nearly on fire when she finally came back, the words tumbling from you.
“Who’re the people?”
It was, technically, four words that set off an hour and a half conversation.
Your friend’s persistently paid off after about two months of bringing it up. It started out as a question to check up, formed into a joke/tease, and ended up as a proposal. You’ve eventually thawed, only tonight feeling comfortable enough to ask, allowing yourself to be curious. It was curiosity, but you strayed far away from any sexual conversations, feeling that topic would actually throw you over the edge.
You pick at your nails, a nervous habit to ease the discomfort of the vulnerable conversation, “what do you do?”
“You mean my role? It’s what I said before, I’m a dominant in our relationship.”
“How often do you do it?”
“Sex?”
Her hand swats at your shoulder, enabling your fidgeting to become actions of aggression. You shove back, “fuck off.”
“Anyways, it depends on each relationship, but for us we fall into it most nights. Usually they come home and I can pick up the signs. I came to understand their body language about a month after us dating that they’re feeling a specific way.”
“Too intimate.”
“Oh yeah, it’s intimate and entirely built on trust. It’s why I love it so much,” your friend reached a hand over, stretching to reach until her fingers wrap around her phone, “I’ll send you their number. It’s entirely up to you from this point on. But genuinely though, if anything I say is making you uncomfortable let me know. I truly have just wanted to help.”
It wasn’t brought up again. An episode of some old show capturing the both of your attention the rest of the night, her scratchy laugh engraved in your mind from how often she found the dialogue hilarious. A small red mark forming from when she got too excited, jumping on the bed and bouncing your body to move and hit a dull item nearby. Thankfully you don’t have neighbors that occupy the room below you.
It was a sad goodbye when you both had the knowledge of how busy your schedules were. You had a form of contact, your phone, but you didn’t always have access to her in person. The lights in the apartment were shut off, the dark almost navy hue covers the room. You clicked your phone on, squinting from the onset of light before checking your recent text from her, “their” contact information sitting open on your phone for the night.
It turned out to be a weak battle, with the conflict being between man vs man. You had daily arguments with yourself, both sides—heart and mind—fighting with valid reasons. You don’t know if they’d be a weirdo overtime. They could not win your trust, or understand you, step over you like your coworker at work has been.
It could be a waste of time to be so intimate with someone and have the time come to a close, so you make a new space in your contacts for their number. You had a simple message typed out, introducing yourself and how you got their number, and then prompt turned your phone off.
The waiting period consumed you.
Brushing your teeth, you’d flip your phone to find that the notification was another spam email from a store you visited two years ago, reminding you to unsubscribe yet again. At work, you’d even pulled your phone from where it rested under your thigh to check whenever it buzzed. It was impossible to deny when the evidence was written all over your face, but you liked to believe you didn’t care.
The earth spun a whole two times and you’d still gotten no response. You checked your phone less, initial nerves transforming right into worry. Were you bothering them?
“Stop fretting,” your friend told you over the phone and then proceeding to let out a laugh at your embarrassed rant, all about how you regret reaching out.
“Hey, I wouldn’t have hooked you up if I thought they weren’t interested. It’s barely been two days.”
“You’re right,” your phone sat across from you, giving you the perfect view to stare at her personalized contact photo,
“Give it time.”
You had another speech about to spill about how you’re not going to obsessively check anymore, but that buzzed sound you’ve grown to respond to rapped against your wooden table.
Your lungs contract, closing when a contact with no profile photo and definitely no name appears. Your friend’s voice becoming background noise as your focus snaps to the unopened message, watching it as it slides away.
“Okay well I have to sleep. Love you, stop freaking out.”
The call ends abruptly, a habit of hers you’re usually frustrated with but now you’re grateful. Nerves at a new high for the day when a second message comes in. Feet patter on the hound, carrying you to climb into your room.
Realizing they’ve messaged you back is both an energy drainer and giver. Lights bright on your face while you’re unlocking your phone, clicking on the chat button. Your mind makes up the worst scenarios in hopes to keep your expectations low, but as your eyes sweep across the text a smile appeared on your face.
Long text summarized, they’d love to meet you in person and brief information was shared. They’d agreed to meet halfway at a coffee shop in Manhattan named, “coffee project nyc.”
The closest subway station was swarmed with a dozen people, the time on your phone being the explanation behind why others were brushing against you on the train. They contained to when after the train had arrived, pulling you along with them like a terrible tide.
Your phone map is a virtue, showing you the route until the cafe is in sight just across the street. It was across the street but your feet were stuck to the side you were on. Seconds passed like milliseconds, speeding up like your breathing.
The door had a little bell, one that rang when you walk through and sit down at the closest open seat to you. Eyes set on your phone screen like you were doing something meaningful by scrolling through already opened texts.
A new text appeared, a statement, telling you that they’d arrive. It wasn’t the intention, but you realized you hadn’t told them you had also arrived. The bell rung as it did for you, signaling to you and the others in the building that another had entered.
Her tone was clear when she spoke to you, leaning so she can look at your eyes. An air of calm around her when she introduced herself, saying how nice it was to meet in person.
“Is there anything you’d like from here? Natasha’s in line to get herself something.”
“Oh no,” you internally wince at how high your tone is pitched, “I’ll just pay for my own later!”
“It’s on us if you’d like any,” she repeats the offer with a smile. The scent from all the coffee beans and tea leaves is too addicting, filling your senses and pulling at the right heart strings to make you weak.
“If it’s okay could I maybe get a tea?”
“That’s perfectly fine. Natasha hasn’t ordered you yet, you can go tell her your order,” she says, words emphasized by her finger directing you to find the women fifth in line. An apology comes out as a whisper, feeling bad when you have to cut between two people holding a conversation.
“Hi,” you breathe, feeling nervous about being pushed to her warm body by those in line and others trying to move about.
“Breathe,” she says, pausing your sentence until she’s seen you visibly take a breath.
“Sorry,” you say, the unwarranted apology causing her eyebrows to furrow.
“Why sorry? You don’t have any reason to be.”
You say it again but she makes no pays if no mind, a gentle hand coming to rest under your forearm.
“Would you like something?“
The words you had spoken to wanda are repeated, asking about ordering a tea with another apology following right after. You fear she’s upset, but every movement she makes is kind, soft.
“You don’t have to apologize. Go wait with Wanda, I’ll bring it over once it’s made, okay?”
You thank her what feels like ten times, hoping each one is more sincere than the other before stepping away, mindful of the kicked up carpet. Wanda’s smiling at you, reaching over to push your chair out.
“Did you get a tea?”
“I did, thank you two—seriously—I appreciate this.”
Her response comes out as a hum, the words, ‘of course,’ mended together through the one sound, “how was your ride over? You mentioned the trip only being a few minutes, correct?”
“Usually yes.”
“Have you been here before then?”
“Not really, I don’t go out often. If I did I’d ruin my budget plan.”
The smell of the store is amplified once the cup is placed in front of you, the gentle steam floating off the top smelling exactly like the aroma in the small room. The seat to the right of you is pulled out, taken by Natasha a second later. Hers smells of coffee, a darker roast you’re familiar with from one of your roommates making it in the morning.
She picks through the sugars on the table, ignoring Wanda’s advice to leave the sweetness alone; Wanda mentions again how it impairs her dreams, giving her terrible nightmares instead. Natasha acknowledges what she says and still pours two in, her defense being the brand labeling itself as a ‘natural sugar’ as opposed to some other popular companies.
You turn to Wanda, “do you like to drink coffee or tea?”
“I do,” she says, fingers brushing under yours to stabilize the tilting hold you had on the cup, “every now and then I’ll get a tea.”
She quirks a quick smile, the mood fading fast once she’s turned her attention to Natasha and how bright the coffee has become. Natasha pulls the cup away from her extending grasp, bringing the cup to her lips with a grin.
“Do you work?”
“I do! I work in marketing at a real estate company, basically meaning I create pamphlets and design their websites. Do either of you have a job?”
Natasha keeps the mug in her hands, not letting go despite the heat, “we do. I work as a mechanical engineering, Wanda’s does corporate finances.”
You later worry about how your emotions are written on your sleeve seeing how they noticed the slightest change in your body language. Wanda lets her hand drift off of yours seeing as you’re now paying attention to how you’re holding it, “what do you do?”
“Nothing crazy like that. I sell art pieces, occasionally teach somewhere like an art class or work as a substitute for a school if needed.”
“Did you go to school for art?”
“I did, somehow passed to with how strict a few teachers were.”
They then ask to see a piece you’ve done, listening to every word you’re saying on every detail of each individual piece. You show ones you’ve sold, ones you’ve given as gifts to friends/family members, and some you’ve painted for yourself. You ease into the moment with every passing minute, tense muscles and fidgeting movements calming.
The room is small, but busy. A multitude of conversations being held in one place, all forming and coming together like the infamous background ambiance.
A watch on Wanda’s wrist catches light when she flicks her sleeve down to check the time, a deep sigh coming from her when she realizes it’s past 9:30PM, “it’s getting late.”
Natasha hums, grabbing your cups and stacking them to take to the dish bins nearby. You stand when she does, grabbing your coat to toss over your shoulders.
“We can walk you home if you’d like, it is quite dark out.”
You take a glance as well, the scarcity of light on the street enough for you to accept her help. The sidewalks are small, pushing you to walk so close to them you’ve stepped on Natasha’s shoes two times already. They keep close to you, sitting beside you in the subway ride. You’ve told them that you’re grateful they’ve offered to walk you back, but that you also feel bad for taking up their time. They keep reassuring you, every time gentle, if not gentler than the last.
The street becomes familiar again, the lights from your balcony coming into view. The little store building with the apartment complex above it, your little home. It’s never fully quiet, but at this minute in the hour it almost feels like it’s just the three of you. An occasional car, bike, and stranger may walk by, but you barely notice.
“Would you like to see my apartment?”
“I wouldn’t mind a tour,” wanda says, her words making you smile and excitedly being to unlock the door. It’s late enough that either your roommates are out or asleep, leaving you and them to walk into a silent space. It’s entirely too quick tour; only showing them your balcony, bedroom, living room, and kitchen while trying to be quiet for the one roommate trying to sleep.
Wanda calls your name, finding you in your bedroom after hearing where your voice came from and following it. Your room is reflectively dark, only light source coming from the dim lamp by your bed. The one you’ve been meaning to repair.
“How’re you feeling?”
“I’m good, a bit tired.”
“I mean about this.”
Your lips fall slightly ajar, taken a bit off guard. She’s not rushing you at all, leaning against your vanity. She’s even gone far enough to not make you even more nervous by moving her gaze anywhere but you.
“I—“ you freeze momentarily when you realize Natasha’s come to stand in your doorway, “I’d like to if that’s okay with you.”
“We’d love to. Later tonight I can send you some papers for you to look over whenever you feel ready.”
You nod, thanking them with a smile. They bid you goodnight, both mumbling sweet words about the night. They both pull you into them, wrapping their arms around you in a gentle embrace before pulling back. You’re inside with heating AC and yet when they pulled back you felt colder.
Once the doors shut, the rooms entirely too quiet, the silence emphasizing the emptiness of their disappearance. They already made an impression, their good nights making you feel twice elated. It shows in your night routine, a smile etched on your face from the night. How beautiful they are, how someone they wished to also see you again, how they were mindful and intentional.
You had gotten dressed, wrapped up in your sheets with your phone settled between you, scrolling through the sweet text they sent after and the documents. The first were fine, but the last few brought nerves to the surface. Explicit acts and suggestive themes filled the page, maybe half you’ve never heard of. They were reassuring though, stating that you’d all run through them together once finished. During the whole process they were helping to answer any questions or concerns you had until you were ready to print and fill it out. After a week and a half you make your relationship official.
— 🌷masterlist ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ taglist below₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺ next part🌻 —
@simpforlizzie @maggieromanov @angelbeingatitspurest @cerberus-spectre @olicity-boo @huggingkoalas @wandasbunnyy @babykingslayer @marigoldenblooms @godhatesgoodgirls @evmaximoff @tobiaslut @lzzysfreak @caporaI-nino @mommysfavouritegirl
#baby im yours series#wandanat x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#wanda x fem!reader#wanda maximoff x female reader#wanda x you#dom wanda#top wanda#wanda x afab!reader#natasha x wanda#wanda x natasha x reader#dom natasha#marvel natasha romanov#natasha romanoff smut#natasha x wanda x reader#natasha x fem!reader smut#natasha x fem!reader#natasha x y/n#natasha x you#natasha x reader smut#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff x reader smut#natasha romanoff marvel#natasha romanov x reader#top natasha#natasha romanoff x reader#wanda maximoff x fem!reader#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff
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Day 4 Of Kinktober:
CumShots + Picture taking.
Izuku Midoriya & katsuki Bakugo x Reader
I just had this is my head all day and I swear- I’m so horny. I just want my face covered.
Warnings: Cumshots, MMXF, two dudes one girl, being tied up, being a cumsl*t, hair pulling.
The locker rooms had been empty for a while and you had been dragged into the room by your boyfriends. It was a good day of you teasing them and giving them attitude hoping you’d get them rilled up. Tho, you didn’t expect it to be a few minutes before a mission. You had been on your knees with handcuffs bakugou keeps on his hero outfit for ten minutes.
“Don’t be so rough,” izuku whined as he stroked his pretty cock beside you. “Fuck off, it’s what she deserves.” Bakugo had a strong grip on your hair and pulled you up to look at both cocks and wait like a good girl. Izuku was slower but harder with his movements and made sure to squeeze his tip every chance he got. Bakugo on the other was fast and rough and made sure to be extremely forceful.
You had to sit there and watch them get off without being able to touch them or even touch yourself. You hated it. “Please,” you whimpered with tears in your eyes, “Let me suck it, please.” You looked up at Bakugo then at izuku to make him fold since he was the easiest. Bakugo laughed at your begging.
“Just a desperate little bitch. Can you believe it nerd? Acting up all day and thinks she deserves to suck us off.” You watched the pre leak out of his tip and your mouth watered at the sight. Rolling your body to try and get some friction from your thighs but nothing worked.
“Such a bad girl,” Izuku spoke and reached down to cup your cheek, giving you a soft feeling aloud with the pulling pain of bakugo. “You knew you’d get punished so don’t be sad about your actions.” His thumb found its way into your mouth and you desperately welcomed it and started to suck.
As you licked around his thump you started to picture one of their cocks hitting the back of your throat and started to bobble your head. Bakugo watched and he got pissed so he slapped Izuku’s hand away from you. “Don’t fucking deserve it, can’t have you getting the idea you’re sucking our cocks.” Izuku pulled his hand back and to his side.
You scream when you hair was pulled and moved your face farther, his grip making it harder to keep your eye open. “Open your mouth.” You did as told and opened wide with your tongue hanging out just like they liked it. The blond steps closer and inches his cock so close to your lips, izuku making sure to do the same.
“Cum, Cum. Paint me, I’ll be good.” Pleaded up at them you felt your own pussy clinch with excitement. Standing up slight you get closer and make sure to close your eyes. “Look at her, Kacchan.” He picked up his own pace to get him closer. “Wants to be painted with our cum, now that’s a good girl.”
“A good girls action, doesn’t make her one.” Fiddling with your hands behind your back, you tried to stay still. “Sorry, I’ll be better.” He wanted to answer but his cock was almost there, his balls clinching.
“I’m going it cum-” you got yourself ready to catch as much in your mouth, “That’s a good girl.” Izuku spoke and his eyes closed. A few seconds of groans and panting their white warm cum splatter along your face. Both cum mixed on your tongue, they kept pumping until it was dry and dripping down your body.
When it was all done you closed your mouth and swallowed it all and tried it lick around your lips for extra. The boys catches their breath and leaned on one another then turn to kiss each others lips. While still kissing his boyfriend, Bakugo pulled out his phone. Pulling away he put the phone right in your face and made sure to keep it tilted down to see your whole body as well.
“Smile for the camera baby.”
#kinktober#kinktober 2023#deku x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugou smut#izuku midoriya x reader smut#izuku midoriya smut#izuku midoriya x reader#Bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader smut#smut#izuku smut#deku smut#bakudeku x reader#bakudeku smut#bakudeku x reader smut
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Heyia lovely! Noticed you were taking or rather looking for requests to do with Vanessa from FNAF?
If there still open I was wondering if you were able to a fluffy one, maybe when the reader is related to Mike somehow and she knows he’s struggling with a job so it’s actually her that suggest to Mike to work as a night guard with her, and maybe Mike is overprotective of the reader so when Vanessa turns up he’s like ‘stay away from her’, but their actually a couple, and when Mike just finds out he’s shocked and if your comfortable with it maybe Vanessa giving the reader a kiss or a kiss on the cheek and he like ‘so I’ll see you for date night?’
Overprotective?
Vanessa (fnaf movie) x reader
Summary: basically the request
Contents: fluff, angst (you gotta squint really hard tbh), established relationship, protective Mike, secret relationship
W/c: how about you count for me bbg 😉 (I’m actually so sorry this is so fucking long and idek why)
side note: The only thing I really changed is the fact that you aren't related to Mike and that you're just a childhood friend, I hope that’s okay and enjoy the totally amazing writing that I love so much!! Also, I’m pretty sure this does not fit totally well with the movie's timeline but it does kind of take place during it.
☆★✰✫✯✵✧✥ ☆★✰✫✯✵✧✥ ☆★✰✫✯✵✧✥
You started working as a security guard at Freddy’s about three months ago. Although it wasn’t the ideal job and the pay sucked ass, it had its perks. For instance, you enjoyed watching Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica perform for you, and you also found it amusing to watch Foxy try to beat your high score on one of the old arcade games. It was pretty funny to see him struggle with the machines using only one hand, but it was less funny when he got mad and hit the machine with his hook. However, the best thing about the job was Vanessa Shelly, the officer who came every other night. You met her on your third day working at Freddy’s when she came to introduce herself to you, and you both immediately clicked. Now, two months later, you’re together.
Recently, you’ve been feeling lonely at Freddy’s. Vanessa couldn’t visit you all the time due to her job, and as much as you love the animatronics, you can’t have real conversations with them. Half the time, you’re left in your own thoughts while waiting for your watch to read 6 a.m. Vanessa recently told you that they were trying to find another security guard to work at Freddy’s with you. You were excited about the idea until she told you that you both would only have one shift together. Nonetheless, you were still excited about the idea of not being alone every night on the weeks Vanessa couldn’t keep you company. You just wish they would find a person faster. You were becoming more and more impatient as the days passed. It got to the point where you even asked Vanessa if you could look for someone yourself, which you quickly realized was stupid because you didn’t even know anyone who could do night shifts. You had given up hope of having a coworker and accepted the fact that some weeks you would be stuck at the old restaurant alone. However, one of your nights off changed everything. You were babysitting for your best friend Mike Schmidt, who was apparently out trying to get a job because he beat up some kid’s father at his last one. You had been drawing in the living room on the floor with Abby when he came in holding and reading an orange paper. You furrowed your eyes as you stood up and walked to him. “What’s that?” Mike looked up at you as you nodded toward the paper. He looked back down at it before sighing and crumbling it up. “Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he said with a small huff before looking towards the kitchen and seeing a box of pizza with a half-eaten pie on the table. He looked back towards you with furrowed brows. “Did you order dinner?” he asked while walking towards the kitchen and picking up a slice, feeling that it was still warm.
“Nah, my girl….I mean uh… a friend of mine did,” you said with a shrug, clearing your throat when you realized you almost had a slip-up. It’s not like you didn’t trust Mike with knowing that you had a girlfriend. You knew you could trust him, seeing as you had come out to him when you both were 15, and he was more supportive than your own parents could ever be. However, it wasn’t about sexuality with Mike. It was his protectiveness over the one he loved. He has been going through a lot ever since Garret’s death, so you don’t blame him at all for becoming overprotective about you and Abby. But the fact that you don’t blame him doesn’t mean you won’t sometimes wish he would lay off on the protective big brother act. Sometimes it’s the only reason why you haven’t told him about Vanessa. You were scared of how he would react and that he wouldn’t approve. Mike looked at you with a raised brow, and your heart nearly sank at the thought of him hearing your slip-up. But then a smirk started to form on his lips, causing you to raise a brow before he started speaking. “Oh? I didn’t realize people actually liked you enough to consider you a friend.”
You sarcastically laughed at his words before punching him in the arm, causing him to laugh and move away from you with his arms raised in defense. “Very funny, Mike. Tons of people like me, alright?” you say with a roll of your eyes as you walk back to the living room where Abby is still finishing her drawing. “Anyways, how’d it go? Did you get the job?” You ask as you begin to pick up some of the crayons that Abby wasn’t using. You hear Mike groan, causing you to glance up at him. He’s sitting in a chair with a hand covering his face. “That bad, huh?” Mike shakes his head, moving his hand to tap against the arm of the chair. “I don’t even want to talk about it,” he says with another groan before leaning his head back to let out a huff. You hum in return as you finish picking up the rest of the crayons and placing them next to Abby’s drawings on a table with a smile before standing up fully and brushing your pants off. “Well, I should start heading out. I have work tomorrow, and I have to do a ton of other stuff before then, so I want to get some rest before all of that,” you begin walking around to grab your stuff as you speak. Mike seems to perk up at your words, and you notice it as you go to reach for your coat. The way he practically jumps out of his seat and looks at you almost stuns you with how fast he moves towards you. You notice Abby now looking at you both with a confused look, which you shrug at her before Mike stands right in front of you, causing you to take a step back. “Whoa, what’re-” “You have a job, right?” Mike says so quickly you won’t even think he’s speaking English. “Excuse me?” “You’ve got a job, right?” he says a little slower but still slightly fast. “Yeah? Did I not just say that?” “Are you hiring?” He asks, his face showing hope. You give a sad smile in return as you pull your coat on. “Yeah, we are…but you can’t do night shifts, remember?” Mike sighs, looking towards Abby, who is watching the interaction.
He looks at you returning the sad look.
“I don’t think I have much of a choice at this point.”
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You sat in the security office at Freddy’s, humming to yourself as you watched the security camera with a bored expression. It was Thursday, which meant you and Mike had a joint shift. This was the last day of the week for him and the first day of the week for you. You had arrived a little earlier than needed, so you continued to stare mindlessly at the cameras as you waited for him to arrive. Your eyes began to get heavy, and you were just about to dose off when you saw a car pull into the parking lot and park next to your car. You sat up, looking more closely, and saw Mike get out of the car. You smiled a little, but your smile dropped when you noticed him talking to someone. You tried to squint to get a closer look before the door opened, and Abby got out. “What the hell?” you mumbled under your breath before standing up and walking towards the entrance to meet them there.
“Y/n!” You smile when you hear Abby’s voice excitedly yell your name before she jumps into your arms and gives you a tight hug. “Hey, Ab’s!” you answer, hugging her back before putting her down. “What are you doing here?” you ask with an amused tone. When you look towards Mike, he’s already nervous, knowing you will be on his case about this later. “Mike lets me come sometimes!” she says happily, and you raise your eyebrow at her while looking back at Mike. “Sometimes? You’ve been here before?” Abby nods before running off towards the stage where Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica are all standing, seeming to be happy that she’s there. You watch the interaction between the three robots and the little girl before sighing and looking back at Mike. “She’s been here before, Mike?” Your tone now changes from the one you used with Abby to one more serious. “I know what this looks like, but I swear I have a good explanation,” he says. You raise a brow at him as he continues to speak. “You usually babysit for Abby, but today we both had work, so I tried to get someone else, but I couldn’t find anyone to fill in for you.” “What about that girl who would sometimes watch Abby? Max?” you ask while looking back at Abby to see her and Foxy watching the other three perform. “She hasn’t been answering my calls,” Mike states, causing you to look back at him with a confused look. “Since when?” “Since last Thursday when you took the day off because you were sick.” You nod at his answer before letting out a sigh. “Okay…I guess it’s fine that she’s here. Just please keep an eye on her. The animatronics are cool and all, but they can be a little rough sometimes.” He hums and nods, and you smile at him before playfully hitting his arm. “Now, come on, let’s go watch the show.”
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It was 4 am, You and Abby were playing in the arcade with animatronics watched you both and Mike was god knows where.
Abby had just beaten your high score, much to Foxy’s dismay, and she was excitedly jumping around as you watched her while laughing before you got a glimpse of Mike speed walking towards the entrance causing you to furrow your brows but you just shrugged it off and look back at Abby who is now trying to convince foxy he can beat the high scores.
You were about to start a new game for him but then you heard Mike's voice paired with another familiar one causing you to furrow your brows and move away from the arcade game telling the group that you would be right back before you jogged towards the voices.
when you got to the entrance you saw Mike talking to someone at the door causing you to walk closer to get a look but when you stepped closer you were met with Vanessa walking in with a smile on her face.
“Hey y/n,” she says with a smile and you all but jump into her arm and hug her tightly while she laughs.
“Vanessa!” you exclaimed, surprised to see her. “It’s been forever!” She chuckled at your words and hugged you back before pulling away, leaving her hand on your waist. “We literally saw each other on Sunday,” she said as you pulled your arms from her. “Yeah…but it still feels like forever,” you mumbled as she laughed again, causing you to smile and playfully hit her on the arm. You were so caught up in the fact that Vanessa was here that you almost forgot Mike was there until he cleared his throat, causing both of you to look back at him. “I didn’t know you two knew each other,” he said, throwing a very obvious glare at Vanessa when her hand stayed at your waist, but she pulled away while clearing her throat, seeming to notice the tension between them suddenly. “Uh, yeah, I met her on her third day here,” she said, glancing at you with a shy smile, which you returned before looking back at Mike, who still hadn’t taken his glare off of Vanessa. “Anyway, I’m gonna go say hi to Abby,” Vanessa clears her throat , giving you one more smile before walking towards the group to escape the awkward tension. “You two seem close…” he stated dryly, finally taking his eyes off of her and landing them on you. You hummed while looking down at your shoes, not wanting to look him in the eyes if you decided to lie about the relationship. “She kept me company during my first few weeks here. She’s a very nice person,” you said, trying to diffuse the tension. Mike hummed and nodded his head, his gaze going back to Vanessa, who was now playing the arcade game. “I bet she is nice to you,” he said, his tone a little harsh, making you glance up at him with furrowed eyebrows, but he was still looking at Vanessa, making you clear your throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked him when he looked back at you. Mike shrugged before beginning to walk away from you and towards the others. “Nothing…forget it. Let’s just go.”
As you watch him walk away, you groan and cover your face with your hands. You slide them down your face and glance over at the group. Vanessa is already looking back at you with a playful smile and motions her head towards the hallway that leads to the security room. You furrow your brows and look away from her towards Mike, who is being distracted by Abby. She’s trying to get him to give Freddy a hug, but he keeps telling her no with what almost looks like a scared expression on his face. The interaction makes you chuckle and shake your head. You look back at Vanessa, who is still staring at you, waiting for you to make a move.
You can't help but break into a smile as you playfully roll your eyes and make your way towards the office. Vanessa announces that she needs to put her coat away and her footsteps quickly jog down the hallway. She grabs your arms and pulls you into the office.
Your gasp is cut short when she kisses you, leaving you momentarily stunned. But you quickly reciprocate, feeling her smile against your lips. She moves her hands to your waist and pushes you into the security chair, closing the door with her foot.
As you try to catch your breath, you look up at her and see her licking her lips. She straddles your legs and you instinctively hold onto her waist. She leans in to kiss your ear, causing you to tilt your head for better access.
"I don't think your little boyfriend approves of me," Vanessa whispers in your ear. You groan and push her back slightly to look at her.
"Don't call him that, he's like a brother to me," you say. Vanessa just smiles and kisses your lips again before moving to your neck.
"Well, your 'brother' definitely looked like he wanted to kill me," she teases. You hum in agreement, closing your eyes as she kisses a sensitive spot on your neck.
"Don't worry about him, he'll come around. He can be a bit overprotective at times," you assure her, gently lifting her head and brushing your thumb against her cheek.
"Have you told him about us yet?" she asks, and you meet her gaze before reluctantly shaking your head.
"I haven't found the right time," you sigh, and she nods in understanding.
"Well, you should figure that out soon," she says, getting up from your lap with a laugh and taking off her police jacket.
"But I don't want to," you whine, standing up and grabbing her arm to turn her back towards you. She smirks at you and shakes her head.
"Babe, I'm not his best friend, you are. You have to handle this on your own. But I'm sure it'll be fine. If he truly cares about you, he'll be happy for us, right?" she reasons, gazing into your eyes. With a heavy sigh, you nod in agreement. Vanessa's soft smile reassures you, and you lean into her touch as she cups your cheek.
"So, are we still on for our date night on Sunday?" you ask, and she leans in closer, her forehead resting against yours.
"Why wouldn't we be?" she teases, a mischievous glint in her eyes. You can't help but look at her lips, and she notices, licking her own before leaning in to kiss you once more.
"We probably should get back to everyone," you mumble between kisses, but you don't make any move to leave her embrace. She hums in response, her lips still pressed against yours.
"We should, but I don't want to leave you," she murmurs, making you laugh softly. You meet her gaze again, and she licks her lips before capturing yours in another passionate kiss.
You were so deep into the kiss that you didnt hear the footsteps coming near the room nor did you hear when the door open.
“The fuck is going on?!”
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AHHH I FINALLY FINISHED THIS FOR MY GIRL 🤭😋 TOOK FOREVER BUT I THINK IT WAS WORTH IT!!
Anyways please reblog if you liked it 🙏🏾🙏🏾 and have a nice day/night/evening/wtv
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Tag list - 🌚 ion have one yet
#fnaf vanessa#vanessa shelly x reader#fnaf#vanessa shelly#vanessa afton x reader#vanessa monroe#mike schmidt#five nights at freddy's#fnaf movie#is it obvious that idk how to end these things 🌚#anon ask
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i can see the end as it begins
chapter 1 • series masterlist
pairing: Dave York x f!reader
summary: You meet your father’s new friend for the first time, but he’s a lot different than you expected.
word count: ~5k
tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad isn’t a nice person), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, spanking, pet names, let me know if i missed anything 🫶🏻
a/n: my favorite person on this app @joelscurls planted the idea of dbf!dave in both our heads and after many many feral dms, porn gifs, plotting and just generally freaking out, we have finally managed to put the first chapter together :) we’re currently planning with 4 chapters in total that we’re gonna take turns posting, so go follow jess if you don’t already (criminal behavior tbh)! i’m beyond excited to be able to do this with someone whose writing i adore sooo much, we’re both beyond excited about this story, and we hope that you enjoy it 🫶🏻
follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)
dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics!
“I want a divorce.”
It’s been almost a year since Carol spoke those words into the tense silence of their dining room and they still echo in Dave’s mind as if it happened yesterday.
He doesn’t mourn the marriage, doesn’t miss Carol, not in the way he probably should. But he mourns the life that he had, the perfect suburban family, the stability. A little boring maybe, but safe, calming. Predictable.
And he misses his girls. He misses the sound of small feet on the hardwood-floor greeting him as soon as he opened the front door, giggly exclamations of “Daddy’s home!” and tiny hands grabbing at him, begging to be picked up. Now he opens the door to an empty, silent apartment. He has them every second weekend, which he rationally knows makes the most sense with his often irregular working hours, but it’s simply not enough. It’s like time is constantly running through his fingers and he just can’t make it stop, can’t bring his life back under control.
He’s doing what he can to keep himself busy, anything to keep his mind occupied and his thoughts from spiraling into that pit of loneliness that he’s found himself in. He started reconnecting with friends, going out with his colleagues and contacting people from his army days that he hasn’t spoken to in years, trying to build a social life outside of his family and the neighbors that he no longer lives next to.
It’s tedious, making him realize that he really doesn’t like people all that much, but it’s better than spending his evenings by himself and wondering where things went so awfully wrong.
He spends a lot of time with Jim, one of the guys that trained with him and that he always got along with rather well. Jim was delighted when Dave called, promptly inviting him to join him at golf the next day, which somehow turned into a weekly event on Dave’s schedule. It’s nice enough, giving him some sense of routine and he finds that he’s rather good at it. Jim runs his own company by now, the thing that he invests all of his time in, which got him a lot of money, but also a divorce.
It’s all he talks about, too, but it’s fine with Dave, not being forced to contribute that much to the conversation – because really, there’s not much worth mentioning happening in his life anyway – and he’s content to just nod along and hum in agreement most of the time.
Jim has a daughter too, a lot older than Dave’s though, already out of the house, attending law school. He can tell that Jim is proud when he talks about her, but it always seems to be connected to achievements, an underlying pressure to their relationship that leaves Dave a little uneasy and he silently vows to himself to never apply any sort of conditions to his love for his daughters.
But he's never met the young woman and he probably never will, so he doesn’t dwell on it, because what does it matter to him, really?
You huff a sigh as the familiar sight of the country club that your father loves to frequent comes into view and hand the Uber driver a tip before sliding out of the car.
You had thought you’d be getting a night out with your Dad, just the two of you, a rare occurrence. Not that you had been particularly looking forward to being grilled about law school, your grades, networking and internship opportunities, but at least he would be listening to you, paying attention. Joking that he was making sure that the money he put into your education was well invested, a joke that felt less funny every time you were reminded just how financially dependent you were on your father.
If the topic of conversation wasn’t school, it was what kind of acquaintances you’ve made, if maybe you’d met a guy with good connections, someone who could introduce you to the right people. Cautionary warnings not to get involved with the wrong sort, not to get on the wrong track.
Just once, you would like to talk about if you were enjoying school, what living on your own was like, how you got along with your roommate, the fun times you had with your girlfriends, anything about your life that wasn’t somehow connected to success or keeping up appearances. But your relationship wasn’t like that. He didn’t care about these sorts of things, he never had.
You continuously swallowed down the heavy feeling of envy in your stomach when your friends talked about their parents, painting a picture of unconditional love and support that was foreign to you, telling yourself that everything was fine the way it was.
“I invited Dave to join us tomorrow,” he then told you yesterday morning, offhandedly, sipping his coffee and his eyes already glued to his phone. You nodded silently, forcing your lips into something that resembled a smile. He had mentioned someone named Dave before, an old friend from his army days that he had recently reconnected with, if you remembered correctly. It didn’t matter, really, your father’s countless acquaintances blurred into a mix of vaguely familiar faces in your head anyway. If you had mixed feelings about the evening plans before, this new development made it clear that you wouldn’t partake in the conversation much, just smile politely, sit pretty and let the grown ups talk.
Steeling yourself, you walk in, your heels clicking against the floor. After spotting your dad almost immediately and waving in his direction, you make a beeline for the bar. He was sitting alone, you think, furrowing your brow in thought. You’re running a little late yourself, maybe that Dave guy couldn’t make it? You don’t hate the idea of that.
Dave had been reluctant to come out tonight, couldn’t help the feeling that he was intruding on his friend’s father-daughter time, something that he was desperate to have more of, but Jim had insisted.
“Lots of women you could meet there!”
He had scoffed under his breath, not able to picture himself meeting someone new, going through the motions of getting to know them, opening up, adjusting his routine to someone else’s again. He could much less picture himself meeting a woman he’d be interested in at a fucking country club of all places. Eventually, the thought of another evening in his silent and empty apartment with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company made him accept anyway.
He’s drumming his fingers against the polished wooden bar, waiting to pick up the second round of beers for Jim and himself, when someone slides up to the counter beside him. He glances over, eyes focusing in on the woman who is studying the drinks menu.
He feels an inexplicable pull towards her, couldn’t look away again even if he tried. She’s beautiful, he thinks as he takes in her features in the soft warm light, lingering on the shape of her lips, before his gaze trails down her body, over the short black dress that’s clinging to her in the most enticing way. She’s also younger than him; too young, the responsible part of his mind argues. Not the kind of woman that he should be interested in meeting. He still can’t look away.
“Evening.” The greeting comes out before he can stop himself. She looks up, a hint of annoyance on her pretty face, but her gaze softens as her eyes meet his. A smirk plays on her lips.
“Hi.” Her eyes flicker down his own body and up again, something akin to excitement taking over her expression. He’s rusty, hasn’t done this in ages, but her interest is palpable, and it shoots a thrill of pleasure through him.
“I’m David,” he introduces himself. No one has called him David in… god knows how long, but it feels better than Dave in this moment, right somehow. Like he can be a different person, just for a little while.
“Pleasure,” she grins, tells him her name and shakes his hand, her eyes glinting in the warm lights of the bar. Her touch on his skin, even just his hand, is like electricity is flowing through the air between them. She feels so soft and his life has been so devoid of softness lately that he has to force himself to let go of her hand again.
Something tugs at the back of his mind, like this name should ring a bell, but he shoves the thought aside. He’s too busy picturing himself taking her home this evening, imagining how soft her skin would feel in other places, how she would look splayed out underneath him on his sheets, how her breath would sound when he–
“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you new?” her melodic voice interrupts the vivid daydream playing in his mind. She has taken a step towards him and hints of the sweet notes of her perfume are beginning to surround the air around him. It’s getting a little hard to think straight.
“I– yes. First time actually,” he laughs and delights in the way her face lights up at the sound. “You come here a lot, then?” The cliché line makes him want to cringe, but she doesn’t falter, only shrugs and lets her eyes slowly trail down his body once more, obviously wanting him to notice.
“Depends. I might be here more often if it means I get to see you.”
She reaches out until her fingers softly graze his wrist and it demands a great amount of willpower not to take her home right this instant.
The heartbeat in your chest is thrumming along to the butterflies that are erupting in your stomach. You’ve never been this bold, too shy to flirt at all most of the time, but the stranger in front of you is clouding your sense of judgment and has your insecurities flying right out of the window. His interest is written over his face clear as day and you feel an immediate pull towards him that you can’t explain.
He’s so handsome that your hands are itching to touch him more, to find out if he’s as broad and solid as is large frame suggests, if that jawline would feel as strong under your fingertips as it looks, and if his deep brown eyes would soften before you press your lips against his. No wedding ring either, you note in the back of your mind, sending another surge of excitement through you.
The fact that he seems old enough to be your father, something that your therapist would probably have a few words to say about, is only adding to the arousal that’s coursing through your veins. You want him.
You almost jump when your drinks arrive in front of you; you had all but forgotten where you are, and that you’re very much in eyesight of your actual father. Suddenly, you feel silly, reality catching up to you. Surely he was just being nice and you read way too much into it, making a fool of yourself.
“Well, I–I’ll see you around then.” You hastily grab your glass and are ready to make a run for it, when his large hand wraps around your elbow.
“Looking forward to it,” he purrs, before he takes the two beers off the counter in front of him.
Awkwardness slowly sets in when you start walking in the same direction, but it doesn’t fully hit you until you both stop at the same table, your father beaming up at you.
“Sweetheart, you already met Dave I see, that’s great. Come, sit!”
You’re frozen, stupidly blinking between your father and the man beside you a few times. The man who introduced himself as David.
David. Dave. Oh. Oh.
“Y–yeah,” you stutter out eventually and plaster a smile on your face as you take a seat beside your dad. David looks just as dumbstruck as you feel when he slides into the chair opposite from you, quietly handing one of the beers over to your dad. His friend.
Your father launches into a story about their army days together and you’re nodding along, but not one word actively registers in your brain. The conversation eventually moves on to your dad’s recent work projects, the majority of the talking done by him, with the occasional question from David, while you’re silently sipping on your drink.
The initial embarrassment of the whole situation makes you want to sink down into the ground, but still you can’t keep your eyes from flicking to David again and again. They linger on his lips, constantly in a pout that you would give anything to feel against yours, the slight shadow of stubble on his cheeks at the end of the day that you know would scratch against your skin so deliciously, the way his hand dwarfs his beer on the table, thick fingers that could stretch– No. No, you’re not going there.
Your cheeks are burning and you stare down at the tabletop in front of you.
When your gaze lifts back up, David’s eyes are already trained on you, glinting like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about. You reluctantly look back at your father, who’s still rambling on about some big client that he’s currently dealing with, completely oblivious to the charged energy between his friend and you.
David shifts in his seat and his leg bumps against yours under the table. You grasp your drink tighter, forcing yourself not to react in any way, but you don’t move away either. Neither does he. You shoot him a look and the hint of a smirk plays around his mouth. He looks too damn good like this, so excitingly wrong in a way that makes your pulse flutter.
It feels like you’re burning up from inside and as little attention as your dad is paying to you, you’re certain that he’s gonna notice that something is off with you eventually. You hastily scramble to your feet and excuse yourself to the bathroom. You feel David’s eyes on you as you walk away until you’re out of sight.
The cool water that you run over your wrists and splash onto your cheeks does a poor job of calming you down. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you admonish yourself. It’s certainly not more than a tiny bit of flirting to him, if at all, just some harmless fun to amuse himself probably, and you’re getting this worked up about it.
No. You need to get out of this situation. You’re gonna walk back out there, make something up about a headache and catch a cab home. It will probably earn you a lecture about politeness later in the evening, but you’ll gladly take that.
When you approach the table again, your dad is just getting off his phone, his expression already far away. You know that look all too well, being subjected to it almost daily.
“Work emergency?” you ask, without a real question behind your words.
“Yeah,” he grumbles, getting up, barely looking at you, already all business. “Sorry, I gotta get to the office, Dave will drive you home. Right, Dave?”
Your eyes fly to David and you catch him swallowing hard, but he nods regardless, lips quirking up in a forced smile. “Of course.”
You both silently watch your father’s retreating back, already speaking into his phone again. The fabric of Dave’s pants ghosts against your bare leg below the table once more. You wish it were his fingers instead.
You hadn’t anticipated to be alone with him and all the reasonable thoughts that you’ve come up with in the privacy of the bathroom are wiped from your mind. It feels like you’re buzzing, a rush of excitement thrumming through your veins, like your body knows that you’re on the brink of doing something really stupid and really fucking tempting.
“I’m sorry, about earlier,” you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. He smirks, a knowing glint in his eyes as he takes in your expression. He still hasn’t moved his leg.
“I don’t think you are.”
Your stomach swoops at his words. You bite your lip. He wouldn’t be acting like this if he didn’t want you, would he? His eyes dart to your lips at the movement and darken. Fuck it.
“No, I’m not.” You pray that he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. He’s fucking intimidating and this is wrong on so many levels and you want him so badly to want you.
The tension between you is a palpable thing, almost making it hard to breathe when he leads you out of the club, his hand at the small of your back and causing you to shiver. Will he really just drive you home? Will he say something, do something, touch you more? You don’t know how to ask for any of it and desperately wish that he’ll take the reins, that somehow he already knows what you want. You have a feeling that he does.
He opens his car door for you, another thing that really shouldn’t affect you this much, before he walks around the vehicle and gets in beside you. You catch a hint of his cologne in the confined space and press your thighs together before you can stop yourself. Your heart is racing and you just know that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.
He clears his throat. “We gotta stop at my place, I have some paperwork that I’d like your–” He interrupts himself, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles are white, “that I’d like Jim to look over for me.”
You nod, a small hum leaving your throat. The implication of going to his place has you reeling. He nods back, stealing a glance at you before he starts the car. You can’t help watching him as he drives, the subtle control that he exudes, the way the muscles on his thighs are flexing underneath the fabric of his pants. He looks over at you a few times, and you don’t have it in yourself to pretend that your eyes aren’t glued to him.
“See something you like?” he asks eventually, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Yeah,” you answer, so breathless it’s embarrassing and you shift a little in your seat. Your dress rides up at the movement, revealing more skin, and his eyes fly down instantly.
“Me too,” he rasps.
When he stops the car in front of his building, you decide that it’s time to be brave.
“Do you want me to come up with you?”
“No,” his answer comes instantly. His tone isn’t cold, but determined, not to be argued with.
“Oh.” Your cheeks are heating up again. You hate how small your voice sounds. “I thought–”
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, avoiding your gaze.
“I can’t. You’re– You know why. You know I can’t.”
“I don’t care. I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”
He shakes his head, still not looking at you.
“Sweetheart, stop. Trust me, I want to, but–”
“Please?” You’re begging, no dignity left in you, only want want want. “Just one time. Please, David?”
His eyes fly up to your face at that. You can see the shift, the way his expression hardens, turning into something feral that has heat growing between your legs.
“Just one time,” he repeats, his voice dark with desire, no longer trying to conceal it.
His hands find your thighs, grabbing at you roughly, moving you until you’re in his lap, legs spread wide, his breath fanning against your lips. One hand is in your hair, the other gliding under the hem of your dress, his touch turning you into a trembling mess.
“This is what you want?” he growls, the grip in your hair tightening. You don’t think that you’ve ever wanted anything as much as this.
“Please,” you whine again, and he presses forward, lips clashing against yours, the kiss all tongue and teeth and desperate need and you’re melting into him.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his hands all over you now, grabbing at your dress, your skin, any place he can reach.
Your mouth travels over his cheek and down to his neck, sucking kisses and bites into his skin. The stubble scratches against your face just like you thought it would and you start working on the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers, rolling your hips, desperate for friction. His grip steadies you, pulling down the neckline of your dress, kissing along the lace of your bra before he pulls the cups down too. A groan rises up in his throat as he cups your tits, thumbs circling over your already hardened nipples before he leans forward and sucks one into his mouth.
“Fucking perfect,” he rasps, breath hot against your damp skin. You arch into his touch and he chuckles, sucking on the bud again before he bites down, eliciting a loud moan from you. His touch travels up your thighs, leaving a burning trail behind, until his fingertips rub over the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp at the barely-there touch.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, pressing down harder. “Already dripping for me, huh? You want it that bad?”
You nod eagerly, pushing down onto his fingers.
“Alright.” He sounds just as wrecked as you feel. He starts undoing his belt buckle and his pants and you lift up just enough to allow him to shove them down his hips.
At the first glance at his cock, your mouth falls open, a silent breath escaping you. He’s big, certainly the biggest you’ve ever had, and maybe you should think about how you’ll take all of him inside of you, but you find yourself craving him, craving the stinging stretch, craving the feeling of being as close as possible to him.
“Don’t worry.” He seems mildly amused, catching your lips in another kiss. “We’ll make it fit.”
Another shudder runs through your body at this. “I’m not worried,” you admit in a whisper.
He laughs at that, a breathless sound that you instantly want to hear again.
“Good.”
He pulls your underwear to the side and thrusts one thick finger up into your slick heat without warning. His thumb rubs around your clit and you already feel an orgasm creeping up on you. He adds a second finger, his rhythm relentless, and you cry out, grabbing his shoulders, trying to steady yourself, but it’s pointless. You’re already clenching, so close to the edge, when he pulls out of you and fixes you with a hard glare.
“Not yet. You’re only gonna come on my cock tonight, understood?”
You want to scream, want his fingers back, but you realize that you also want this authority, want him to take control, to take whatever he wants from you. It’s a heady feeling, one that you’ve never experienced before, but you’re already desperate for more.
“Okay,” you agree, and his responding smirk is enough for another wave of wetness to gather between your legs.
With one steadying hand securely on your hip, he leans over to the glovebox, mumbling about protection, but you stop him, fingers looping around his wrist.
“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean, I promise. You don’t need–”
He leans back, the grip on your hip tightening again.
“Fuck sweetheart, are you sure?”
You nod quickly, another “please” falling from your lips.
The grin on his face is downright feral as he hikes your dress up higher, eyes raking over your body. You’re sure that you look a mess, all intimate parts of you on display, your skin damp with sweat, your hair a wild nest. You curl in on yourself a little, but David won’t have any of that.
“Hey,” he growls, fingers digging into your thighs. “If I’m gonna do this, you’re gonna look at me and beg for it, are we clear?”
You lift your head, wide eyes searching his. Desperate to do what he asks, desperate for his approval. He’s gorgeous in the low lights, his cheeks flushed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face and chest.
“Please,” you whine. “Please David, I need you.”
His movements turn frantic at your words, moving you around until you’re positioned just above him, your panties pulled to the side, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, already soaking him.
“Just one time?” he rasps once more.
“Just one time,” you agree. You’d agree to anything right now.
He pulls you down slowly, beginning to part your walls. You whine loudly at the stretch. It burns, but you relish in the feeling of getting filled by him, and his responding groan has your lips pulling up in a smile.
You keep sinking down, moving until he’s completely sheathed inside you and your eyes fall shut at the overwhelming sensation. His fingers are on your chin in an instant, giving your head a light shake.
“Nuh-uh, eyes right here, sweetheart,” he reminds you, gritting the words out. He twitches inside you and you force your eyelids to open again.
“Feels so good,” you whine, your voice reduced to a broken, breathless thing, but then he starts moving and you’re not able to form words any longer.
He rolls his hips up into you and you meet his thrusts with your own movements, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. His hands are everywhere, digging into your hips, pinching your nipples, gripping your chin whenever your eyes are starting to slip closed again.
So you keep your gaze obediently on him, your eyes locked, delighting in the way his face scrunches up in pleasure, in the sounds that are falling from his lips, matching your own.
“Good girl, taking me so fucking well,” he groans, his hand connecting with your ass in a light slap. An obscenely loud moan escapes you in response and you clench around him, more wetness covering his length and your thighs.
He stills and leans back to take in your heated face and blown pupils, an amused smirk forming on his face. “You liked that, huh?”
You nod, once again unable to meet his eye.
“Hey,” he demands, his fingers grabbing your face again. “Eyes on me, remember?”
Your gaze reluctantly trails up and his smirk grows.
“So…” he drawls, slowly picking up his thrusts again, “what exactly did you like, huh? When I called you a good girl… or when I did this?”
He smacks your ass again and you grind down onto him almost instinctively. You’re burning up in shame, but you obediently hold his gaze.
“B–both,” you whisper, in disbelief that you’re admitting this to him, but you feel too good to hold back now.
“Fuck,” he growls, his movements speeding up and his grip on your hips bordering on painful, “knew you were a dirty little thing.”
Another slap lands on your skin, harder than before, at the same time that he thrusts deep into you. The combined sensations are enough to throw you over the edge that you had been teetering on since he first touched you and you scream out his name as you fall apart.
He holds your shaking body close, cock grinding into you as you pulse around him and he groans, burying his face in your neck, spilling his own release deep inside of you.
“Fucking perfect,” he whispers, mouth pressing against your skin. “Can’t believe that you let me–”
You barely make out the words, ecstasy still coursing through your veins, but you lean into him, holding onto his broad shoulders, feeling like his body is the only real thing in your world right now.
You stay like this, entangled in each other’s embrace until your breaths even out and he carefully lifts your face, pressing one more kiss against your lips. It hits you suddenly, that this might be the last kiss that you share with him. Just one time, right?
He helps you to properly put your clothes back on, supporting your weight as you slink back into the passenger seat, before he pulls his pants back on and jogs up to his apartment to gather the paperwork for your father.
Your father. His friend. Fuck. Now that the lust-induced haze has lifted a bit and you’re able to think more clearly again, the weight of tonight’s events starts crashing down on you. He would kill you. He can’t know, no one can.
Dave returns within minutes, his brow furrowed as he takes you in. You think that he clocks the growing panic that is probably written all over your face. He reaches for your hand, slowly enough that you could retract it if you wanted to, but you long for his touch, for the reassurance of it.
“You alright?” he asks softly.
“Yeah.” You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as him.
He nods back, not prying, which you are grateful for, and starts the car, making his way over to your house. Your hand still clasped in his. Both your release and his pooling in your panties.
You only let go of him when he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine. You don’t think that your dad checks the footage from the security cameras regularly, but it’s a risk that you’re not willing to take.
“Thank you,” you mumble, once again unable to meet his eyes. “I– I had a great night.”
He smiles, appearing more relaxed than he’d been all evening.
“Me too, sweetheart. Good night.” You feel his eyes on you as you walk up to the door.
You shower, reluctantly washing away all traces of the evening and crawl into bed. You still feel his hands on your skin, the sensation following you into your dreams.
When the morning comes, hushed promises of just one time echo in your head, but the desire to do it again, for more, is burning through your body, consuming your thoughts.
“Hey Dad,” you ask, stepping into his office where he’s brooding over documents, “I think I left my jacket in Dave’s car, could you give me his number? Maybe I can go pick it up.”
if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending in an ask – it’s really the thing that keeps writers going :)
#fic: wildest dreams#dave york#dave york x reader#dave york x you#dave york x female reader#dave york x f!reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal fanfiction#dave york smut#pedrostories#dave york fanfiction#dave york fic#dbf!dave york
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hide and seek | c.b.
pairing: colby brock x fem!reader
summary: you’re scared and colby doesn’t want to loose a game of hide and seek.
warnings: haunted place, use of y/n, bad writing and grammar (sorry, english isn’t my first language)
an: the new video inspired me so ta da!! i changed few things so dw if something isn’t like in the video.
You could feel excitement raising in your chest while exiting Colby’s car in front of a gate of Geelong Goal Museum.
You read few articles about this place and you couldn’t wait to start investigating it.
You knew you would probably change your mind about being excited quickly when first interaction with something will happen but that’s something to worry about for later.
You, Colby and Sam made your way towards five boys already waiting for you next to gate with tour guide.
You all said your hello’s and tour guide guided you to place where Sam and Colby had first surprise for their guests. You already knew their plan and couldn’t wait for the boys’ reaction.
“Okay, so before we start investigating we have a surprise for you.” Sam stated looking at the boys.
“Already?” sighed Josh with fake annoyance.
“Yeah, we’re gonna play hide and seek in the Australia’s most haunted prison!” Colby said with excitement which made you giggle. Colby looked at you from behind a camera and send you a big smile before addressing boys and viewers.
“So Sam and I gonna rock paper scissors for who’s a seeker.” they did few tries before Colby won and decided that Sam will be a seeker.
You were glad because you already knew you wouldn’t be able to hide on your own here, you would be too scared.
“Alright, I’m gonna wait here and you have two minutes to hide.” Sam explained and you all nodded.
Colby caught your hand in his and started running which forced you to follow him. You gladly did that.
„Neither me or Y/n are loosing today guys.” Colby whispered to the camera while you two passed Narrator.
Unfortunately, Colby’s hiding place was already taken.
“Let’s go upstairs, to the gymnasium like room. It’s shouldn’t be obvious.” you offered and you could see smile on Colby’s face.
“Yeah, that’s good idea!” he kissed your head “My smart girl.”
You were sure you flushed at his compliment but you decided not to comment and just climbed upstairs.
Few seconds later you found perfect space to hide and you two settled in.
“Okay guys, we’re winning this.” you smiled at the camera “There’s literally no chance anyone could see us here.”
“Yeah, the only thing that could actually give us away is echo so we have to be really careful to not make any louder noises.” Colby added and you nodded.
Soon you could hear Sam talking to viewers while looking for everyone.
But that wasn’t the only thing you could hear.
There was footsteps like sound. And it wouldn’t be anything special if it wasn’t literally next where you two were seated, and where no one was standing.
Your eyes widened while looking at Colby, who also hearing the noise looked at you. You could feel the squeal wanting to get out of your throat in panic but you tried to fight it off. Colby definitely noticed your struggle and side hugged you while making quiet shh sounds into your ear and explaining situations to the camera.
“Don’t panic, I’m with you.” he said after he placed still working camera next to him. Colby started drawing circles on your back with his hand “It’s nothing. Probably something friendly.”
You were nodding into his chest while holding your hand to your mouth to make sure nothing comes out.
That was before next sound.
You could hear quite loud giggle in the same room and your mouth already opened as if to scream but Colby’s lips quickly found yours just before anything could come out, successfully silencing you.
“Sorry, baby, but I’m not loosing today. And I totally love shushing you this way.” Colby whispered into your lips after a kiss with a smirk. You giggled quietly almost forgetting all about the girl’s giggle.
“I don’t mind it either.” you confessed and took the camera from where it laid next to Colby’s legs “So I think camera caught the laugh.” you whispered “It was so creepy. Pray for us, or rather me, to come out of here alive and without a heart attack.” you smiled at Colby’s quiet laugh.
Apparently, kissing was excellent method of silencing you so Colby used next few weird sounds as a excuse to kiss you in case you were about to scream. You were sure that at least two of the sounds he ‘heard’ weren’t real and he just wanted to kiss you but you didn’t complained.
“And what was that for?” you asked after he randomly placed few pecks on your face “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Me neither.” he shrugged “Just wanted to kiss you.” he smirked placing another kiss on your nose.
You opened your mouth to respond but a voice interrupted you.
“Alright, Colby, Y/n! You won!” you heard Sam shouting and you stood up with big smiles on your faces. You quickly placed a kiss on Colby’s lips and you two went downstairs.
#colby brock x reader#colby brock#sam and colby#snc#colby#sam golbach#katrina stuart#jake webber#tara yummy#johnnie guilbert#youtube
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bikers backpack
matt sturniolo x biker!reader
summary: where matt’s girlfriend is a biker and at first matt is scared for her until he realizes it’s actually an attractive hobby, request
warnings: fluff, a little angst, language
“matt! guess what!” you exclaimed as you ran into his room. unbeknownst to him you had just bought your second motorcycle. your dream to own a kawasaki ninja bike had finally come true. you’d been saving up money from different odd jobs you’d done to be able to afford it.
“i finally bought my 4- stroke, six speed, metallic gray ninja 650.” you could’ve almost cried with excitement. matt knew this day was coming. he knew your love for bikes and as much as it made him anxious he couldn’t help but feel that twinge in his heart everytime you got this excited around him. in the two years you guys had been dating your hobby had only gone on in one of them.
your fascination for motorcycles steamed from the long line of harley riders you had in your family. growing up around the vehicles only made you want to learn to drive them more. on your 18th birthday you went out and got your motorcycle license it wasn’t until a year later that you got your first bike. it was a beat up motorcycle with over sixty thousand miles that you bought off of facebook marketplace, but it was your baby. you rode it everywhere and took such good care of it.
matt on the other hand hated the fact that you drove motorcycles. he was supportive in everything you did, as you were for him, but this was the one thing he couldn’t get behind. he was always a so worried about you because of how dangerous it can be. he barely liked being in a car. the idea of being on a bike with an engine made him sick.
matt looked up at you hesitantly. he didn’t want to make you upset, but he couldn’t find it in himself to jump for joy at your words like you did. “that’s cool, y/n. i’m happy for you.” his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes and you could feel the coldness in his words. you didn’t want to have another fight about the fact that you liked riding bikes, but you also didn’t want to feel like you couldn’t share your accomplishments or things you enjoy with your boyfriend. “can you at least pretend to care?” you questioned harshly. your words caught him off guard.
“i don’t care? really?” his tone changed. you could tell your words hurt him, but neither of you were ones to back down from a conversation like this. matt continued, “i care that 72 out of 10,000 motorcyclists experience a crash. i care that 80% of motorcycle accidents result in injuries or death. i care that california has the second highest number of motorcycle fatalities. i care about what matters so sorry if your upset that i’m not thrilled about your new purchase.”
choosing not to argue with him you simply backed out of his room and left his house. you felt like matt didn’t trust you. you knew the statistics but you were always so careful. you wore a helmet and protective gear. you never rode by yourself, you always had at least one other biker with you. you took all the necessary precautions so you didn’t know why matt wouldn’t listen to you about this. you would give him a chance to cool off and maybe bring the topic back up at a later time. you wanted him to know how you felt but maybe it was better to do it at a time where you both were more level headed.
later that night, after having a conversation with chris about how it’s your life and not his, matt felt like he owed you an apology. both you and chris were right. he was focusing on the wrong things. all he wanted was for you to be happy but him being negative wasn’t going to help you achieve that. matt made his way over to your house ready to talk, but as he pulled down your street he couldn’t help but notice you in your driveway ready to leave on your new motorcycle.
pulling up next to you, he couldn’t help but feel attracted to the sight in front of him. you were always beautiful, but for some reason his body gave him a different response to seeing you next to your bike. “what are you doing here?” you questioned as matt got out of his car, your voice barely above a whisper. “i came to apologize. i was wrong to get upset like that. i should’ve been more supportive because i know how much you enjoy this kind of stuff. so i’m sorry.” his words meant a lot to you. you had been feeling extremely discouraged since you left his house so you needed to hear this.
before you could even respond matt threw out, “also, i want to go on a ride with you.” to say you were shocked would be a complete understatement. “you want to go on a ride?” “yep.” you looked at him in denial. “a ride on a motorcycle?” he just responded with a nod and a smile.
“are you sure because you really don’t have to. i really appreciate your apology, but i don’t want you to do anything that’s going to make you uncomfortable or anxious.” you quickly said.
“no i want to, sweetheart. i think some exposure therapy would be good for me, and to be completely honest you look so good right now, you could probably get me to do anything you wanted.” he sent you a wink as he came over and put his hands on your waist. matt tilted his head down slightly so you guys were eye level before pressing his lips to yours.
you never thought you’d see the day where matthew sturniolo was putting on a helmet and was willingly getting on a motorcycle. not that you were complaining though. you put your helmet and gloves on, “are you 100% sure you want to do this?” you asked. matt flipped the visor of his helmet down and gently bonked his head against yours. “get on baby let’s go.” he said pulling you hand.
and with that you sat in front of him with his arms wrapped around you, and you went off on your memorized path to where you planned to meet up with some of your friends that also ride. it was safe to say that after the first couple minutes matt enjoyed himself. he took notice to you attention to the world around you, which he appreciated, and he was happy to know more about the hobby you loved so much. matt was now your personal backpack
an: this is shorter then normal but i haven’t written in a couple weeks so i need to get back into it. i thought this was cute though and i hope y’all enjoy
taglist: @maryx2xx @norr1ssturni0lo @recklessmatt @luvr4miya @hpyjw @unbruisable @watercolorskyy @elliewrites1 @rheaasturn @slxt4matt @mmay4ever @aurizp
#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo fluff#sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo imagine
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happy valentine’s day - m!kylar x f!pc
cw: breeding kink
You stood outside the manor door, grasping a large tote bag in your hands. It being the middle of February, the weather was still quite unpleasant, so without knocking, you walked right inside.
Almost immediately as you stepped in, you were attacked. A pair of arms wrapped tightly around you and you stiffened in response before realizing it was just your overly-eager boyfriend.
“Kylar,” you squeaked out. “Lemme breathe.”
He apologetically took a half-step back, not letting go of you. Kylar looked up at you, his eyes shining brightly through his bangs. “Sorry! Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m just so excited…” he said sheepishly, and you got the idea that he wasn’t really all that sorry.
You smiled and playfully shook your head, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Kylar practically lit up when you did that, and was about to snuggle into you again before he got distracted by the bag in your hand. “What’s that?”
You lifted the bag in question. “Gonna make you something to eat.”
Growing up in the orphanage, Valentine’s Day had never been more than you and Robin exchanging sweets you had managed to sneak past Bailey. But now, having a boyfriend, you figured you should actually do something. You weren’t able to afford much and still be able to pay Bailey, and while you knew Kylar would be overjoyed no matter what you offered, you still thought the boy deserved something nice.
Kylar lit up even more and practically jumped for joy. “Thank you, my love!”
You couldn’t help but smile even more as the two of you walked into the rarely-used kitchen. “Curry noodles,” you explained as you set the ingredients on the counter. “I figured it’d be like that crap you eat every day, but with actual nutrients and a non-deadly amount of sodium.”
His head rested on your shoulder as his arms wrapped around you from behind. “Anything you make will be delicious.”
“That’s sweet of you to say, and probably not true,” you smiled. “Now I need you to get off me so I can actually cook.”
“Oh!” Kylar withdrew as if he had been shocked. “Presents! I need to give you your presents!” He scrambled out of the room and returned with a large gift bag.
You began prepping the meal as Kylar showered you with a variety of gifts like flowers, heart-shaped boxes of chocolate and more. You opted not to ask where - or rather, how - he had gotten his hands on them.
Making idle chitchat with your sweet (and overbearing boyfriend), the meal quickly came together and it was time to eat. You dished up a plate and slid it in front of Kylar, who was eyeing the meal like he had never seen anything so delicious before.
“Don’t get your hopes up too high, it’s probably not that good,” you warned, but Kylar vigorously shook his head “no.”
“Anything my love makes is the most delicious thing ever!” He proclaimed before taking a bite. Kylar’s face was aglow with joy as he beamed at you. “It’s amazing!”
He quickly dug in for more, and with a chuckle, you began to eat your own helping. Well, it was pretty decent, after all.
You didn’t talk much through dinner - Kylar was unable to speak as he was scarfing down his food and you actually had to ask him to slow down in fear he might choke - and when you two were done, he leaned back in his chair with a satisfied look on his face.
“Thank you, my love,” he said. “Everything you do is perfect. You’re perfect.”
You smiled at the flattery, an eagerness building inside of you as you thought about what was coming next. “That’s not all I have planned.”
Kylar’s eyes widened and his face flushed slightly. Yeah, he had picked up on what you meant. “O-oh?”
Your smirk grew. “It’s time for dessert.”
Without hesitating, Kylar stood from his chair and grabbed your hand, dragging you to his bedroom. He slammed the door behind him, panting a little.
You took your time going to sit on the edge of his bed, feeling Kylar’s eyes on you all the while. He stood by the door, fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Honestly, it was so cute how he still got so nervous when you had sex.
You almost didn’t notice the red rose petals resting atop his bedsheets. The sight of them made you smile. It was a sweet, romantic touch.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Kylar,” you said softly, spreading your legs a little. He could see right up your dress and audibly gulped at the sight of your lacy underwear. “You can do whatever you want to me.”
He blinked repeatedly. “W-whatever I want?”
You nodded. “Whatever you want, baby.”
Kylar sucked in a breath, then nodded. He made his way over to you and tugged at your dress. “Off.”
You stifled a giggle at his forwardness and teasingly took the dress off, revealing the matching bra and panties you had underneath. His eyes roamed your body hungrily and you couldn’t help but blush yourself under the intensity of his stare.
“See, this is what you get when you don’t steal my underwear.”
Kylar frowned. “No teasing,” he said, and pushed you back on the bed so swiftly that you gasped, many of the petals fluttering to the floor.
With his hands pressing on your shoulders, he straddled you, still unable to take his eyes off your body. “So perfect…” he murmured.
Your whole body felt hot as his hands began to move, grabbing and groping various parts of you. You let out a soft whimper, which seemed to awaken something in Kylar.
He brought his mouth right up against your ear, the feeling of his hot breath sending a shiver through your body. “I’m not gonna stop til I’ve put a baby in you.”
Without giving you a chance to react, he slid your panties down and shoved his head between your thighs. He quickly set to work, licking and sucking, and he had you squirming with pleasure within mere moments.
“Fuck, Kylar,” you gasped. He knew your body so well that he was able to lock onto that one spot so quickly.
“You taste so good,” he mumbled against you, and the vibrations of his voice made you shudder.
You cried out as you hit your first climax of the night, and Kylar drew back, a wide grin on his wet face. He clambered back over top of you, tugging off his sweatshirt and t-shirt in one motion.
He kissed you hard and you tasted your own juices on his tongue. “I want you to feel good,” he said, tugging down his pants. A large damp spot was visible on the front of his boxers where his cock was straining against the fabric and he looked up at you sheepishly.
“I can’t help myself,” he muttered, and it made you smile. You sat up to peel down his boxers, revealing his flushed and painfully hard cock that was practically dripping precum. Kylar’s breath hitched as you lightly trailed your fingers down his shaft.
Shaking his head and inhaling deeply, Kylar pushed your shoulders so you were laying flat on the bed. He gently stroked his shaft, lubing up his cock between your folds.
Then, with a slightly crazed look in his eyes, he plunged his cock into you.
Almost immediately, Kylar started whimpering and mumbling, but you couldn't make much of it out other than “ohmygodIloveyousomuch.”
You yelped at the sudden intrusion, but found yourself unable to say anything either.
“Kylar,” you whined, which only inspired Kylar to move his hips faster, relentlessly fucking you as he pressed your legs back, moving you into a mating press.
This new angle had you seeing stars, and already you could feel your second climax approaching.
Kylar was pressing kisses all over your face and neck - anywhere he could reach, basically, all while mumbling under his breath about his love for you and how he would die if he didn’t put a baby in you tonight.
You couldn’t hold it in anymore, and gripped onto Kylar’s shoulders as you came again.
His stuttering hips and erratic breathing signaled that his climax wasn’t far behind. And with a cry, Kylar came inside you, his hands clinging to your waist as he thrust inside you as deeply as possible.
Kylar buried his head in your neck and laid on top of you, your limbs intertwined, and his cock still inside of you. “I love you,” he mumbled against your sweaty skin.
It made you smile. “I love you too,” you replied, and you could feel his own smile grow against your neck.
Wrapping your arms around his back, you held him close as you rested your cheek atop his head, closing your eyes and settling in.
But Kylar had a different idea.
He flipped around so he was on his back and you were on top of him. You could feel him hardening again inside of you already, and the crazed look was back in his eyes.
“Y-you can’t expect to get pregnant from just one load, my love.”
You were in for a long night.
#degrees of lewdity#dol#kylar the loner#dol kylar#kylar x reader#writing#WOW#FINALLY DONE#YIPPPEEE HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT#cw breeding kink
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141 fighting each other to be the one whose lap reader sits on during a meeting or smth
CONGRATS ON 1kkkk
Thanks <3 Please find silly nonsense below!
Tomfoolery Senses
Words: 1k
CWs: Slightly spicy but nothing explicit
Honestly you shouldn’t even be on base, not with your knee being how it was. It was annoying as hell that the recovery time meant you were out of the field for the foreseeable, but they still needed you. You may not be able to run around with a gun right now, but tactical was always your strong point anyway so for now you attended meetings and made plans.
You walked into one such meeting and your tomfoolery senses immediately went off. There were too many glinting eyes for them not to have pulled something, and when you went to sit down you nearly laughed out loud at the bloody audacity. No empty seats. Strange since there should be some, almost as if someone had relocated them beforehand specifically for some ridiculous purpose.
“Ye can sit here bonnie!”
It took a moment for your brain to catch up. Soap was very much patting his lap in excitement. The last time you had ended up in that man's lap his hand had wandered during the entire meeting. You recalled being a mess by the end of it and Soap being very much like the cat who got the cream about it because he knew it meant when he followed to your room like a puppy you would let him in.
“Move your arse MacTavish, I’m injured and I need the seat.”
“Wouldnae dream of it! As ye’ll recall, I also have a dodgy knee. Only right for us tae stick together.”
“Surely you’re not asking them to sit on your dodgy knee then Johnny? Come on sweetheart, right here.”
You gave Ghost a bemused look. Soap you expected this from, but him? Actually no, you had very much been overwatch for 141 missions, this is exactly the kind of nonsense you expected of this idiot.
“Now I would love to, but weren’t you just telling me about your bad back? I seem to remember something about needing me to massage it. It would be irresponsible of me to risk making it worse.”
“Your massage fixed it right up actually" he replied, large hand patting thick thigh in further invitation.
You rolled your eyes. Your “massage” had lasted about a minute with you sincerely giving it your best effort before he had pinned you down and given you a very thorough massaging of his own. Only that one had done the opposite of fixing your back, if anything you'd say he had in fact blown it out.
“That so? You were complaining about it right before they walked in” Gaz said, smug as anything even while Ghost glared over at him.
“He's a lying git luv, obviously just looking to get a gorgeous thing in his lap. My lap, however, is neutral.”
You knew for a fact his lap was not neutral, not one bit. His lap was very much the kind of lap that you found yourself bouncing on anytime he got you alone and charmed you right into it. You could be in the middle of a training exercise, fully in the zone, and next thing you knew you were stuffed full of Kyle bloody Garrick in the middle of a safehouse where anyone could wander in at any moment. It wasn't like you were a big risk taker, but he could make you think anything was a good idea.
“A veritable Switzerland I'm sure.”
“Safest place to be really.”
“Look me in the eye and say that with a straight face then.”
Soap and Ghost groaned in tandem as you made the mistake of looking at Gaz. That bloody sunshine smile could sell ice in the Arctic and as such everyone usually avoided eye contact when they knew he wanted something. Charisma score above 20 that boy. Honestly these fuckers were the worst, but oh Gaz's big brown eyes were just smiling so gently at you and surely he would never do anything untoward. How could you look at this man and think he would ever manipulate you?
“Corporal, come ‘ere, that's an order.”
Gaz's sunshine expression turned to one of wry disbelief. He had been so close, you had been about to take a step towards him. It was awfully unsportsmanlike for Price to pull rank, something Gaz would be holding against him.
“So much for honour.”
“Cheeky fucker.”
“Just taking the piss Captain.”
It wasn't completely unfounded for Price to use his rank to get what he wanted when it came to you, it was why usually the others would try to get you away from him. Ghost did it sometimes too if he wasn't there and the Sergeants were. Although he didn't use it quite as thoroughly as Price did once he got you alone. The Captain was always happy to give you orders if only so he could punish you when you bit back, which you did often. Not because you enjoyed the punishment, that certainly wasn't it. You could not supply another reason, but that was besides the point.
“Well I suppose I have to since you're the Captain, unless there was someone that technically had more authority to give me orders” you said with a grin.
“Come on now pet, don't be like that, just come sit and we can start the meeting hm?” he said, using that voice that was right in the middle of soothing dominance and rough command in a last ditch effort.
“Of course Captain, just want to clear it with command first.”
Price sighed, glancing over and seeing that he had lost the fight when he was met with Kate's sly little smile. She was often your saviour when it came to these men. It helped that her and her lovely wife were both sweet on you. They had invited you round for dinner once or twice, and suffice to say the very delicious home cooked meals were not the only thing getting eaten. If there was one thing the men in the 141 hated more than losing to one another, it was losing to Laswell. She was always so annoyingly smug about being your favourite.
As you settled right down in her lap and both the meeting and Kate's hands gently massaging at your waist started, the 141 collectively thought that next time they'd better bring you a damn chair.
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high eren is always more aggressive in bed and y/n acting out for him? ten times worse. yeah he’s been cooped up in his studio for two days without paying his wife’s neediness any mind but a fat blunt and her attitude will definitely do the trick
yep, that’ll do it 😩 y’all know I love me some mean eren.
cw: rough sex, eren is so mean omg :( weed use, choking, degradation and name calling, HEAVY breeding, some other things, porn w no plot and we getting straight into it 🤭
“..’Rennnn, slow downnn..fuck!” (Y/N)’s whiny breath exclaimed in a choked out moan. It was all you could even manage or muster at the moment, considering your husband was currently fucking you absolutely senseless! You had no idea what had incited this change in him but you were certain it could only be deduced to him being holed up in his workspace for forty eight hours, trying to complete an important deadline and you making it no better by being a brat. Annoying him every hour to come spend time with you and then giving him the silent treatment when it was too late. He was stressed..in need of an outlet and your little pussy seemed like the perfect source. Hence why he had you folded up on the couch, ass in the air as he hit you from the back..
“Shut the fuck up and take this dick…doing all this begging for it, now you wanna stop?” you had never heard your sweet Eren be so mean. But that’s how he was when he was not only in extreme duress but intoxicated! A firm hand planted to the center of your spine, the other pulling at your hair and an ignited blunt pursed between his pouty pink lips. His green eyes glossed over in a haze of euphoria from the potent weed and the ripple of your thick ass driving him insane. He didn’t care about your tears, how many times you claimed to not be able to come anymore or if you clawed the damn cotton from the sofa…this body was his until he couldn’t bust another nut! So he’d hopelessly thrust his hips forward, digging you out with this massive dick…letting the throbbing tip peck your g-spot and beyond with each stroke. Just then, you felt his hand collide with your asscheek once more and it was much harder than the last slap! Not to mention, a palm suddenly snaking around your throat! “And I told you to keep that back arched, didn’t I? What, you can’t fucking listen now? Or do you only hear what you want to?” Even still, it excited you a little..
taking you right there in the living room because he couldn’t even be bothered to carry you to the bed. Talking to you like nothing more than a toy…it brought out a feeling you never knew you liked. That much apparent by the way that tight cunt clamped around him each time he spat at you or called you out of your name..maybe you’d anger him more often! Mounted like a wild animal in heat, (y/n) would feel the strands of his long hair tickling your shoulder blade; tingling in several places as he hissed in your ear. “Mmm…I’m sorry, daddy. You’re just fucking me so g-good..I can’t help it.. ‘s too deep..” crying out with tear stained eyes and a trembling lip that done nothing more than make your man laugh and taunt you. “Awww, my little slut can’t take anymore?..can’t handle it, yeah?” His words like venom seeping through your veins and making your spine tingle. But before you could answer, he’d rut his hips even harder, completely planked atop you with his hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you pinned down. Feeling each deep thrust in the pit of your stomach. Along with the sloshing of him fucking his own seed out of you. “Then next time you’ll act like you have some goddamn sense and stop testing me..” muttering out of frustration with the rhythm of his pounding becoming much faster and your cries growing louder in return. Chocolate eyes trailing to the back of your skull as a result. “Baby…pleaseeee.” This man is going crazy…making you see stars and regret all of your bitching. When you felt him slow to sporadic strokes and hear the huffs heaving from his barreled chest, you knew he was close yet again. It’d be a matter of time before he stuffed you with more of that creamy mixture. Only furthering the mess of your previous orgasms below. Having already two knots prior..
“I swear you piss me off sometimes but this pussy feels so good, baby…fuck!” Drawing out in a long, whiny breath whilst he drilled further. Your legs had become all but useless by this point..causing (y/n) to collapse into the cushions, smothering your face into the pillows. Unable to silence you entirely or muffle the sounds of you begging to come and for him to do the same. In his mind, he wanted to keep going..relentlessly fucking the shit out of you all night until you learned your lesson. However, it wasn’t realistic, seeing as how you were tightening around his shaft. He didn’t have to tell you what to do, hell, he never did because you responded to his body on instinct..completely bound to him and instead, you’d both fall into those climaxes as one. “Shit….right there. Come on that dick, bitch..you can give me one more..” Fading into bliss as you hit your peak again. Your breath hitching in your chest and windpipe, making you gasp once you came back to..normally, he’d be rather attentive to your needs, making sure you were okay before going any further. However, your husband wasn’t bothering to be so kind tonight. It didn’t mean he loved you any less because he couldn’t even if he tried but your sassiness and this substance had awoken a different side of him. So the second you slathered him in your silky cream, he filled your fertile little womb more of his own seed. That swollen, battered pussy probably unable to house another droplet of his cum. He didn’t pull out right away though..he’d allow it to sink into you until he no longer could stay in it. Slapping that length between your bubbly cheeks and caressing your back as he chuckled. “I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to be so rough with you..just really stressed out but you did so good f’r me.” His praise being all but worth it. Seeming that whatever spell that had overcome him was lifted and he was back to his normal, sweet, doting self..but it did instill something in your brain..a lesson that you’d never forget:
make him mad more often!
#eren jeager smut#aot x black reader#black fem reader#eren jaeger imagines#eren jaeger x black reader#eren x black reader#attack on titan eren#eren jaeger x reader#musician eren#musician au#musician x influencer au#eren jaeger smut#eren jaeger headcanons#eren jaeger#eren jaeger x y/n#eren jeager x reader#eren jaeger x black fem reader#eren x black y/n#aot eren#eren smut#black reader#eren yeager#eren x black fem!reader#eren x black yn#eren x black reader smut#black reader smut#smut fanfiction#eren x reader#eren x you#shingeki no kyoujin eren
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deadly.
summary: tagging along to a gig could never be a bad idea, could it?
smut 18+, steve is a cocky bastard and this basically a rehashed y/n goes to a concert and the lead singer falls in love w/ her from the wattpad days it is incredibly self indulgent lol
an: erm so i apologise for not posting in what feels like forever but a series of things happen (i lost and then subsequently survived the great war and got taylor tickets), my dad is in hospital (he's okay!) and i have written a 10k+ the bear au with eddie (lemme know if u want that) that has occupied my mind so i have excuses ok
♡‧₊˚
It’s slightly difficult to believe that you weren’t utterly enamoured with Steve Harrington the first time you laid eyes on him. You felt like the odd one out, surrounded by a gaggle of screaming, adoring fans.
You liked the music enough, so when Jen had suggested getting the tickets, you were completely up for it.
You had just never expected for the night to end like this.
Jen had been hand plucked from the crowd for some after party, the security guy had eyed you up and down, shrugged and just muffled a quiet whatever when she asked if you could go along.
There was a small group of other girls being ushered into the intimate room of the club, all looking incredibly similar. Buzzing with excitement, barely able to contain themselves when they saw the band lounging on the velour chairs. It just all felt incredibly forced and you knew exactly what the end goal was.
The room is murky, full of girls chattering, trying their hardest to grab the attention of at least one of the guys.
And yeah, maybe it was a little cool but you were tired and knew you’d end up having to find your own way home as Jen was gone. She’d wriggled her way onto the couch next to who you think is the drummer, batting her eyelashes and flashing him that signature pout that meant he was putty in her hands. He’s her usual type, long floppy hair.. the brooding kind.
“You not having fun?” a voice mutters into your ear, barely audible over the thumping music. It’s Steve, or the frontman, still in his stage get up with a cup of something in his hand.
“Oh, no I am.. I’m just tired,” playing it off with a small smile. You were not about to cockblock Jen and get the pair of you escorted out with your resting bitch face.
He nods, eyeing the undrunk glass of champagne in your hand, it was warm now, undrinkable, “you don’t drink?”
“Ah..” you do drink, just not open drinks that had been shoved into your hand by some barman the second you walked in here, “I just don’t… and don’t take offence, I don’t take open drinks from strangers,” baring your teeth in an awkward smile.
Steve laughs out loud, envying girls snap their heads in your direction, he takes the flute from your hand, “yeah that’s smart, you want another one? We can both watch him pour it,” motioning towards the bar.
You had desperately wanted another drink, just too shy and self-conscious to make a scene out of pouring this one away to do anything about it. Nodding graciously as you both stand from the cramped couch, walking up to the bar with daggers in your back.
“What’re ya’ having?” his eyes heavy on yours, leaning across the bar to get the man’s attention.
“What are you drinking?”
“Whiskey,” shaking the cup in your direction.
“Ooh maybe not,” scrunching your nose in disgust, peering over the bar at the collection of liquors they had. Basically, a bunch of expensive shit you didn’t recognise. “Can I just get a vodka lemonade?” shying away at your incredibly basic pick.
“Classic,” Steve nods, eyes on you but yours are glued to the bartender, watching eagle eyed as he fills the cup.
“You’re supposed to be watching too,” raising your brows with a smug smile, you could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face.
He scoffs, grinning to himself, “I think you’ve got that covered,” not once lowering his gaze. He’s confident, cocky even. Worlds apart from the usual guys you’d encounter, pathetic yet arrogant in the way they spoke to you.
You take the drink with a smile, the bartender walks away to the other end of the bar with so much as a grunt in response.
“I haven’t- I need to pay,” finally meeting Steve’s eyes again, baffled by the entire interaction.
His eyes glint with amusement, shaking his head, “not here.. it’s all paid for,” it’s endearing to him, perhaps he’d got used to girls just already expecting it.
“Wow..” your mouth contorting into a perfect ‘O’, “well, thank you for the drink,” sipping out of the straw with a smirk. If you’d known, you would’ve taken full advantage way earlier.
“Well that’s my pleasure, d’you smoke?” rustling in his pockets for the pack of cigs, leaning over to your height.
You eye the box, “only socially, but if they’re someone else’s cigs then yes, definitely.”
He bursts into a cackle, “well let’s go then,” placing his hand on your elbow, leading you through the room and out of the side door, passing the prying eyes of the other girls. You weren’t dumb to what was going on, any of those girls would jump at the chance to get led out of a club by Steve Harrington.
It’s chilly outside, your body shivering at the sudden drop in temperature. He hands you a cigarette, lighting his own and flashing a quick thumbs up to the large security guard who had taken it upon himself to stand blockading the door.
“Is this something that happens every night?” you ask cautiously, honestly not wanting to offend but rather curious about the answer.
He nods, blowing a cloud of smoke out of the side of his mouth, “most nights on tour, yeah,” his lighter in his palm ready for you to take.
“Hmm.. right,” lighting your own cigarette, running your thumb over the engraved metal. Peeking down at the cursive lettering, O.H. Passing it back to him without any questioning.
“You gettin’ jealous already?” one eyebrow quirked up, you’re thankful that he doesn’t take offence.
“Yeah totally,” playfully rolling your eyes. Hundreds, if not thousands of girls had been in your exact position before and yet you still found yourself getting giddy over his flirty words and infectious smile. Sickening. “Is it always like this? You don’t get tired?”
He cocks his head to the side, “sometimes yeah, but those boys in there are dogs yanno? Bad influences,” smirking as his lips part to exhale. Effortlessly sexy with his eyes hung low, heavy as they refuse to leave yours.
“Oh and you’re not?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny..” holding his hands up in innocence, closing the gap between you.
Pressing your lips together, focusing on the cigarette in your hand rather than his obvious advances. If you were going to be another notch in his bedpost, you were going to make sure he worked for it.
“It’s crazy because I just don’t believe you,” matching his smirk, taking another sip of your drink. It was becoming increasingly harder to resist his caramel tinted eyes and the gorgeous eyelashes that hung over them.
“Well,” he remarks, stumped by your stubbornness, “I guess I’ll have to prove it to you,” throwing the butt off into the distance somewhere. His hand reaching out to find your elbow once more, “shall we go in?”
You nod, dropping your own half-smoked cigarette, walking back into the crowded club with his hand resting on the small of your back. Falling into the first empty seat you could find, his large thighs squishing into the tiny section next to you, brushing against your scantily clad legs.
My God, if looks could kill, you would’ve been six feet under by now.
-
You chatter away all night, his lips brushing against your ear, feeling his breath over your cheek sent shivers down your spine.
Jen had already disappeared, flashing you a very reassuring nod before being bundled out of the club with her emo dream boy trailing closely behind.
It’s late now yet there were still hoards of girls milling around, hoping for one last chance with whoever was left. You’re pretty sure they had got the memo that Steve was simply not interested, watching as he hung off of your every word, passing you drink after drink while sipping on his own with intent eyes.
You hadn’t expected him to really care about your life but he had asked all the right questions, talking about your job and going back to school. Shit that you were sure he would forget the second you left.
The security guard from earlier comes over and whispers something into Steve’s other ear. He just nods before placing his hand on your shoulder, leaning into your ear, “I’m gonna go back to my room now,” sitting forward in the extremely cramped chair.
Your heart sinks a little, as shameful as it is, you’re a little disappointed. Attempting to quickly figure out how you would now get home without Jen.
“You wanna come with?”
Head pricking up at the question, staring at him for a brief moment before nodding. His pink lips curling into that smirk you’d become accustomed to. Smug and enchanting all at the same time.
You’re bundled into a car, security guards speaking in low voices to the driver, you can vaguely hear the word paparazzi be mumbled and then a bunch of directions. It’s all a bit too much, Steve is serious as sin sat next to you in the back, listening intently to whatever the security guard was mumbling into his ear.
You sit in amazement, contemplating if this maybe wasn’t the best idea until the door slams shut and the car sets off. Steve turns to you, rolling his eyes as his hand creeps onto your knee.
“Sorry.. apparently there’s paps outside the hotel so we’re goin’ the long way until they get rid of them,” sliding his hand north, squeezing onto your thigh. “We’re stuck in here for a little while longer, I hope you don’t mind?” the streetlights illuminating his face, remnants of his black eyeliner cling to his eyes.
“Jeez..” blowing the air from your cheeks, “must be exhausting.”
“I don’t mind it, I just don’t think my manager would appreciate waking up to the pictures.. ya know?”
“Not really.. but I get it, you don’t wanna look like a whore in the media,” returning the smirk he had been giving you all night, shifting in your seat to see him better.
“A whore? I prefer slut if I’m honest,” shifting closer, eyes lingering on your lips for entirely too long.
“You could be both,” tongue peeking out to wet your suddenly parched lips, “it wouldn’t be a lie, would it?”
His chuckle rumbles through his chest, “shut up,” free hand trailing upwards from his own lap to cradle your cheek, pressing his plump lips to yours with haste, eyes fluttering shut at the contact.
Your fingers curl into the soft material of his shirt, pulling his chest to yours, leaning back against the hard plastic of the door. You sorta hoped the paparazzi would linger a little bit longer just so you could stay exactly like this.
-
It’s a grand hotel room, they definitely had not skimped on the budget here. Nothing at all like the budget rooms your family had forced you into on vacation. It takes a moment for you to completely take in the entire room, a standard of elegance that you’d never seen before.
“You’re like.. rich rich then,” gawping at the tall ceilings like a child in a candy store.
Steve chuckles, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back, pulling your attention from the grand decor and back to him, “I’ve seen better.. d’you want something to drink?” motioning towards the stocked minibar.
“Please,” you remark, eyeing the sheer amount of variety in the tiny bar.
He pauses, coming around to stand in front of you, eyes narrowed, “kiss me and you can have anything you want,” lingering fingers on your hips.
The corner of your mouth twitches, “anything?” widening your eyes at the prospects of his proposition.
“Anything.”
-
You must’ve dropped off to sleep at some point as you wake back up to the feel of Steve’s hand on your ass, thumb playing with the lace band of your thong. He’s leaning against the headboard in quiet reflection. The bedside lamp is still on and you’re not sure if he ever slept.
“Do you ever sleep?” you ask groggily, shifting to face him with heavy eyes. His hand clamps around your thigh, startled by your voice.
“You scared the shit out of me,” turning his head to face you, the cold metal of his ringed thumb presses into your soft thigh, “can’t sleep.. happens sometimes after a show,” shrugging slightly.
Sometimes is an understatement. He hadn’t had a full night's sleep in God knows how long. Becoming accustomed to the shoddy hours he did manage to catch.
“Oh,” suddenly feeling guilty that you were here and potentially disrupting him, “I can go.. let you get some sleep,” looking up at him through your lashes.
“No no no no, stay.. stay,” pulling your leg over his waist, hand running up and down the supple skin, “it’s nice having someone here.”
You pull your body closer to his, shifting your weight to sit in his lap, knees positioned either side of his hips. This wakes him up entirely, moving up the bed to sit up, large hands gripping onto your waist.
“Oh? This is what we’re doing now?” he teases, clapping a mild slap to your ass cheek causing your cunt to brush against his already-growing bulge.
“Apparently so,” you snigger, glancing at the thin cotton of his boxers, they weren’t leaving much to the imagination, perfectly outlining the shape of his cock.
“Well great because I love this,” smirking as you clasp onto either side of his face. Carefully placing your lips on his, your tongue slipping past his liquor stained lips.
Mindlessly beginning to grind yourself down against him. He’s uttering a bunch of nonsense into your mouth, bucking his hips up to chase the feeling of your cunt against him.
“Fuck,” he grunts, hurriedly trying to slip his boxers down without making you move. Steve’s animalistic in the way he yanks your flimsy panties to the side, fisting his dick in the other. The sight alone makes a pathetic noise form in your throat, practically drooling over him.
“C’mere baby,” he instructs, thumb expertly holding the lace aside as you sit up on your knees, guiding himself through your folds and into your cunt, exhaling sharply as you slide down.
It takes a moment to adjust, he was cocky but fuck, did he have a reason to be. The tip of his cock already nudging uncomfortably close to your soft spot.
“You take me so well,” he proclaims, watching his cock disappear inside of you.
His words make you choke, joining him in looking at the space between your bodies. Feeling just about ready enough to move.
There’s a short knock at the door just as you begin to bounce, pausing with his dick still buried deep inside. Clutching onto his shoulders, sharing a disdainful look for whoever was looming on the other side.
“Nghh, what?” he calls out over your shoulder, sending daggers through the wood.
“Bro, you gotta condom in there?” the voice calls out, low, desperate.
You shift slightly, repositioning your knee and the sight movement is enough to have his fingernails dug into your hip, “holy fuu- no I don’t,” pupils dark as they flit from the door to yours.
That’s your cue to keep going, moving your hips up before slowly sliding back down, his cock filling you to the hilt. Biting down onto your bottom lip to keep from moaning though you’re certain whoever is on the outside isn’t clueless. The tour t-shirt you had slipped on is gripped between his fingers, pulled up your torso, exposing the supple skin.
“Aw fuck man, you’re no help,” the voice complains, banging the door one solitary time before skulking off, presumably to go and bother someone else for a condom.
Your lips twitch into a smile, throwing your head back as your hips gain pace, soft whimpers floating from your slack mouth. His hands are rough and commandeering as they hold onto your waist, setting the rhythm even when he wasn’t on top.
Steve growls, legs propped up as he begins to thrust upwards, trailing his callous palms down to your hips for better leverage. It’s then that you allow him full control, falling into his chest with your fingers knotting into his hair. Tugging at the caramel tinted tufts as this new position catches your neglected clit against his pubic bone, drawing a long cry out of your throat.
“You feel so- mmfuck, so good,” he squeezes out, quickening his pace, filling the room with the sinful sounds of skin on skin. His adam's apple bobbing up and down as his orgasm nears, sharp fingernails leaving red semi-circles in your skin, trying so desperately not to cum then and there.��
He dares to look down at the space between you, the image of you wearing his shirt with his cock buried deep in your cunt makes him twitch, taking his bottom lip between his teeth in an attempt not to collapse.
“Right there,” you mewl into his ear, fast approaching your own orgasm, thighs becoming spent as he mercilessly slams into you from below.
It takes everything not to bite down on his tanned shoulder as your orgasm crescendos, desperate cries filling the room as you shudder around him. Sweaty palms now palming at his shoulders for some reinforcement as your legs give way.
Steve follows shortly after, sloppy final thrusts as your name echoes the tall walls, surrounded by a chorus of fucks and shits. His chest heaving, pulling you closer into his chest as he melts into the pillow. Graciously still supporting your weight with his large hands while your head still reels.
“You good?” he sighs breathlessly, drawing your face from his neck with a gentle tug of your hair, pulling your attention back to him.
You nod, smiling lazily as you sit upright once more, readjusting the lace thong that had been slung to the side. Pulling his boxers up his thighs without once breaking eye contact.
“Why don’t you just come on the rest of the tour with me?”
A giggle ripples instinctively, he probably said the exact same to every other girl that had been in this position alongside that same heavy, longing gaze he was flashing you. Christ, it probably worked on a few of them too. Give it a few more minutes and you would be convinced right along with them.
“I’m serious,” he blinks, tracing circles onto your hip, still completely enamoured with the way his shirt fell on your body.
“I bet you say that to every pretty girl you fuck,” still refusing to take him seriously, shaking your head at the ridiculous notion. You weren’t sure exactly how long he had been famous, but you were sure he wasn’t that out of touch with reality yet, right?
“Only you,” hands travelling to your bare thighs, “come with me,” thumb tapping a short rhythm onto your skin.
“You don’t even know me.”
“Well I want to, a tour bus is a great place to get to know someone,” he remarks, grinning.
Dawn now creeps in between the hastily shut curtains but you don’t dare to break eye contact. Dropping your hands from his shoulders as you ponder.
“I have a job and a house and bills and I don’t think they’d let me take that much vacation,” attempting to shut him down despite the fact his tactics were clearly working on you.
Endless possibilities run through your mind.. you could quit and beg for your position when you get back.. you’re sure Jen would look after your house, in fact she’d be very enthusiastic about you going and would probably volunteer.
“Fuck it..” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours, “how much is your rent?”
“Steve..”
“How much?”
“Four eighty.”
“Easy, consider it paid,” he relents, staring up into your eyes through his thick black lashes. The flecks of gold that ran through his iris’ were persuasive enough to get you to just quit your job and run off on tour with him.
You sigh, chewing on the inside of your cheek. It would be totally and utterly stupid and irresponsible of you to do this but how could you ignore the niggling feeling in your brain that would never ever disappear if you didn’t.
“You’re being serious?”
“Deadly.”
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve stranger things#steve harrington x y/n#stranger things x you#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington au#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x fem!reader
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LITERALLY LOVE TROUBLE AND MAX!!! also this thought has been rotting in my brain ever since reading trouble and max going skinny dipping. trouble wants to get max high and wants to teach him how to get high but he’s already a pro (got that ducth in him) so he doesn’t tell trouble until afterwards.
thank you!! and thank you for requesting!🫶🏽
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In fairness, you should have questioned how the man from the Netherlands had never gotten high before. Maybe thinking about it for more than three seconds and making an assumption would have saved you the embarrassment.
But in your defence, Max had been in competitive sports since he was a young child. He spent almost every day of his life training or racing or trying to be the best. It wasn’t the most outlandish thought to have that he would have never gotten high before, that he never wanted to risk a drug test or his own physical performance.
Or, at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.
And for Max, he just didn’t have the heart to tell you.
You were so excited when you proposed the idea to him. You were so excited about rolling a joint together and teaching him. You were being so sweet, telling him that it would just be the two of you so he didn’t have to worry about having too much or not being able to get past a coughing fit for the first few puffs.
You were just being you—his Trouble—and he would be damned if he took that excitement away from you.
So, he pretended.
You were sitting in his apartment, in his living room. The windows were opened and he was sprawled against one side of the couch with you leaning back against his chest. His arms laid lazily around as he watched you roll the joint, humming when he was meant to in between your instructions.
You placed the joint between your lips, inhaling deeply before blowing the smoke out. You then turned around to look at him, holding the stick between your fingers. “You think you’re ready, Verstappen?”
He raised his brows in amusement. “What would you do if I said no?”
“You don’t have to do it,” you told him in a genuine voice. “I can like…shotgun it for you, if you want.”
Max knew he should have come clean there and then. If he was a good man, he would have done just that and enjoyed passing a joint with his girlfriend on a Saturday evening. But he wasn’t a good man, especially not with the image of you straddling his lap and your lips brushing against his.
“Maybe you should do that,” he murmured quickly with a nod.
He could feel his cock stir in his sweatpants when you turned around, one leg on either side of his hips before you took a deep inhale. You then leaned down, your hair fanning around you, almost creating a wall between the two of you and the rest of the world. You gripped his chin between your fingers, leaning down close enough that your nose was brushing against his and he could have come at the sight alone.
“Please,” he rasped as he parted his lips.
Your lips twitched as you closed the distance between each other. His eyes fluttered shut as he inhaled. His hands gripped your waist as though he wanted to tug you closer, and when you sealed the deal with a kiss, he couldn’t help but let out a groan.
You pulled back enough to look at his face. Your fingers anxiously tugged on the fabric of his shirt as you waited for the coughing fit that never came. Your brows furrowed together when he exhaled with ease, a giddy smile on his face as he tried to lean in for another kiss.
But your hand on his chest stopped him.
Your eyes narrowed on him. “This isn’t your first time, is it?”
His expression was bashful and sheepish.
“Max!”
“I’m Dutch, baby, what did you expect!” He defended before letting out a small chuckle. “C’mon, Trouble, don’t be like that.”
“You probably thought I was an idiot,” you groaned as you nuzzled your face against his chest.
“I thought it was cute,” Max murmured as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Could definitely get used to that little act though.”
“Yeah, I can feel how excited you are,” you deadpanned.
“Then, how about we finish that joint and have some fun?” His voice dropped to a whisper, a hint of desire and anticipation in his words.
Your lips twitched. “And you can make it up to me.”
“Always, Trouble. Always.”
.
#max verstappen#formula one#f1#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen fic#max verstappen one shot#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#formula one fic#formula one one shot#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 fic#f1 one shot
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