'is It My Size?'

Thin Walls - Sebastian Vettel x reader

Sebastian Vettel x female!reader

Requested? Yes/No

Anon: Was wondering if I could put in a request for a Red Bull era Seb fic / oneshot? Maybe something along the lines of working for Red Bull since Seb joined, and the beginning of the 2013 season, Mark Webber finds out that Seb has always had a massive thing for you. Mark then decides to start flirting with you to make Seb jealous. Seb gets back at Mark by enacting Multi-21, and after the race, gets the ultimate payback by getting you to come back to his thin-walled hotel room, which is the room right next to Mark’s. ;)

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: Angst, smut 18+++, dom! Seb, swearing (wrap it before you tap it kids)

—

Ever since Sebastian Vettel had joined Red Bull you had been working alongside him. Being Red Bull’s main photographer had a lot of benefits including being rather closer with both drivers. You conducted their photoshoots all year round and then followed them like a shadow around the tracks to get the best photos you could. Sure you got on with both boys well but there was always something about Sebastian that made him that little more special, maybe it was because the two of you started your Red Bull journey together or maybe it was because you two could never keep your eyes off one another. Whatever it was Mark Webber sure picked up on it and used it to his advantage. 

“You like her,” Mark turned to face Sebastian. The two were sat at a drivers meeting and Mark had caught the German’s eyes linger on you just outside the room for a little too long. “Don’t you?”

“Who?” Seb snapped his head back to meet the gaze of his teammate. “y/n? No.”

“I didn’t even mention her name.” Leaning back in his chair he smirked back at Seb. “So you do like her?”

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[x] IMAGINE STEALING KAZ'S CLOTHES AND HE PRETENDS NOT TO NOTICE.

requested by anon

---

It had begun when you had been alone at Kaz's office and felt cold. You had been feeling lazy, so you had thought to borrow Kaz's shirt this one time. But you had ended up stealing that shirt. And a few more pieces of clothing after that.

You couldn't help it, you just found so much comfort from his clothes. And especially if they had a faint scent of him. You didn't put his shirt on every day, but when you missed him when he was away, it was a cold day or when you just wanted to have physical comfort from him, you put his shirt on and it kind of felt like he was holding you, even though you couldn't know how it would really feel like.

Today, it was a particulary chilly day and your regular attire didn't feel like enough. You glanced at the drawer where you had hidden some of Kaz's shirts - you knew they wouldn't warm you up any more than your own clothes would, and Kaz was present, so there was a greater risk that he'd catch you. But it was still tempting. You knew he wouldn't lash out on you about that, you still feared that it would feel embarassing for him.

But if you'd hide it well enough, he'd never know. So you slipped Kaz's shirt on, buttoning it up before putting your jacket on and ensuring that the shirt won't show up too much under it. Then you left your room, ready for the new day.

The day went on normally, Kaz was his brooding himself who snapped at Jesper and Nina whenever they made teasing remarks on how his tone of voice changed slightly with you or how his face softened just a bit when he looked at you. Kaz had tried to keep your relationship as a secret from the Crows too at first, but it didn't take long from them to figure it out.

And today, it was the first time you were wearing Kaz's shirt when he wasn't away. You thought you had succeeded in being subtle, that he didn't know, but he knew. Oh, he knew. He had known it since he first saw it when he returned earlier than expected from one of his heists, and suspected it already when three of his shirts were missing. And secretly, he loved it, seeing his shirt under your jacket. For him, it meant that you were fully comfortable around him. And until he would hopefully be better with touch, he was happy that you found physical comfort from his clothes when he couldn't provide it to you yet.

One day, he hoped he'd be able to hold you, but until then... his clothes would do it for him.

A/N: To the requester, thank you for your compliments ❤ And I know you requested a "fic" and probably waited for a longer piece but as much as I love Kaz, I can't keep breaking my own rules to make all my Kaz pieces long when the request is gif imagine-sized because otherwise I could burn myself out with Kaz because people would always assume long pieces even from the vaguest of requests and that would eventually also mirror itself on other characters I don't crush on. I'm sorry if I've disappointed you by not providing a oneshot.

Tags: @musicallisto @take-me-to-ny @mindofasupernova @lxncelot @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @vintagebitc @fandomstuffff @montsepliego @number-0-iz @just-a-new-start @kaqua @readingslumpfanfic @dancingwith-sunflowers @shadowhuntyi @rika90 @imma-too-many-fandoms @the-abyss-gazed-back @thereagles @kiwijulia @beatitlikeabongodrum @louweasleymalfoy @aliiiyyaaah @malfoys-demigod @aleksanderwh0r3 @gallysonegoodlung @maybe-potato @dustyjjumpwings @whatiswrongwithpeople @thegirlwiththeimpala @periwinklemax @lazyotakujen @bookfrog242 @mrs-brekker15 @notplutos @brekkersbane @subjecta13-thefangirl @hinagiku0 @brekker-zenik @brekkers-desigirl @statsvitenskap @janesofia7 @heyitsaloy @rqmanoff @mentallynotstableghost @katherinepetrovawife @scandalous-chaos @nyx2021 @lala2sstuff

Chicken Shop Date

By @imagine-that-100​ and @alovesreading​

Description: Matty Healy x Reader (Female) | You and your best friend Amelia came up with a very simple idea of taking celebrities on awkward chicken shop dates, and somehow, it’s managed to become both of your jobs. In the past, you’ve found sitting across from some of the biggest stars on the planet and eating chicken nuggets easy. But then Amelia manages to score you a date with the man who you’ve been obsessed with since you were nineteen; Matty Healy.

Word Count: 18.3k

A/N: Okay so, Matty’s chicken shop date really had me and @alovesreading​ spiralling so we decided to make an even better version of the date. This will more than likely be 2 parts and the second part will be posted on A’s account so make sure you’re all following. We wrote this in like 53 hours and we’re super proud of it. We hope you enjoy it as much as we do, and we can’t wait to see what you think. Enjoy and thanks for reading x

| N’s Masterlist | A’s Masterlist |

Going on chicken shop dates with your favourite celebrities at one point in your life seemed like something entirely plucked from yours and your best friend’s imaginations. You guess that is all it was at one point, but you never for a second imagined it would become your job.

It’s a stupid, fun idea that you and your best friend Amelia ran with and now you’ve gone on ‘dates’ with some of the biggest stars on the planet. It was beyond your wildest dreams and it’s opened up so many opportunities for the both of you that somehow, you’re now both invited to big events that these stars also attend.

You and Amelia were both at the NME awards earlier this year, surrounded by musical legends that the both of you knew you needed to try and ask on your ‘dates’. The amount of award shows the both of you were asked to host their red-carpet shows were also insane to the both of you.

The imposter syndrome really kicks in for the both of you when you’re at these events but you both remind yourselves to use your fake confidence that you use on your ‘dates’ and it somehow gets you through. But you wouldn’t ever take for granted the opportunities the both of you were getting now.

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A Breach in Reality

request: If you're taking requests ive been GNAWING for a joaquin x fem reader where they go on an undercover mission to a riiiiiiich ahh gala as a fake couple and they end up kissing to not get caught🤌

pairing: joaquin torres x f!reader

contents: undercover trope, colleagues to lovers, internal angst/insecurity, kissing

wc: 1,572

an: these two are so adorable! thank you for sending in this request anon. I truly hope you enjoy <3

danny ramirez characters masterlist

The mission brief was simple: infiltrate the gala, extract the intel, get out without blowing your cover. The two of you had prepared well, going over your aliases, asking each other questions that someone might want to know, making sure all the gaps were filled.

What you didn’t prepare for is how tight and warm Joaquin’s hand would feel on your waist in the silky gown you’re wearing. Or how good he’d look in his polished suit, black and sleek. How good his cologne smells when you walk hand and hand. How his eyes seemed to roam a little more than usual; you brush that thought away easier than all the others. Of course he was looking at everyone, at you more closely.

He leans close to whisper against your ear as you walk up the marble steps of the venue. He has to say it because it’s true. “You clean up nice, princesa.”

You barely hold back a smile, rolling your eyes at him playfully. “You’re just saying that because I’m your fake date.”

Joaquin’s gaze is sincere. “I’d say it if you were my real one, too.”

You have to look away from his brown eyes because you don’t detect any dishonesty. But you know that you shouldn’t get involved with someone you’re working with, especially with how infrequent you see him. You don’t want to get attached to the idea of having him this way, even if your mind has forced you to dream about it once or twice before.

You value reality and protection of yourself, of your heart over everything. It’s why you haven’t let yourself go on a date in over 5 years. The last time you opened up in that way, you couldn’t remember who you were when it all finished.

The gala is all champagne flutes, soft jazz, and people with money to waste. You keep your arm looped through his, playing the role of the doting partner while you both scan the room for your target. He’s pressing you closer than necessary, his body heat seeping into your skin, but you don’t pull away. You don’t want to.

What’s one night letting yourself feel the affection of someone else, especially when it’s already known to be a farce. No harm, no foul.

“Target’s heading toward the east wing,” you murmur, eyes trained on the man with the silver cufflinks. The pin on his suit indicates he’s exactly who you’re looking for.

“Copy,” Joaquin says smoothly. “Let’s move—”

“Un segundo,” you cut in quickly, pressing into him more firmly to stop him. “Su seguridad está mirando.”

Two guards in suits that linger just far enough to not draw attention to the untrained eye have turned to look directly at you both, eyes narrowed like they’ve seen something they shouldn’t. Like they see right through you.

Joaquin doesn’t hesitate. He shifts in front of you, hand sliding to your jaw like it belongs there. “¿Confías en me?”

You raise a brow at him, like he’s asked you a silly question. And he has, you wouldn’t have agreed to go on a mission with him if you didn’t trust him. “…I’m literally undercover with you.”

He grins mischievously, eyes glittering in the low lighting. “Close enough.”

He kisses you then.

It’s delicate and unexpected, and you’re too caught up in the perfect way his lips feel against yours to remember the mission for a split second. The reality you had just promised yourself you would stay in slips away. His hands stay gentle but sure, holding your face like you’re something fragile, like he’s been waiting for an excuse.

You melt into it—just for a second, just until the guards look away. At least that’s what you tell yourself, because the thought of breaking the kiss never crosses your mind.

It’s him who pulls back, leaving you both a little breathless.

“Convincing enough, yeah?” he asks, trying to sound casual but his voice is rough. He’s clearly affected, but you chalk it up to a natural response from the body.

You clear your throat, looking anywhere but at him. “Yeah. They’re uninterested.”

Neither of you moves. He’s still cupping your face, his thumb absentmindedly running over your cheek. And your hands that had moved to ground you during the kiss are still fisted in the fabric of his suit. The mission calls you forward, but something heavier hangs between you—hot, unspoken, electric.

You clear your throat again, loosening your hold on him, still not daring to meet his gaze. “Listas?”

He lets out a breath. “Listo.”

The mission wraps up without a hitch. The target successfully caught, the intel procured. You’re back in the van peeling off your heels with a weighted sigh and trying not to think about the way Joaquin kissed you like he meant it.

Except, how are you meant to not think about it?

You’ve replayed it at least thirty times on the way back to the safe house, each one more embarrassing than the last. Because the thing is, it didn’t feel fake; not for a second. And now you’re stuck wondering if that was just him being good at the job, or if maybe it meant something. Something more.

That’s not a question you’ll let yourself ask though. Reality. Protection. You repeat the words to yourself multiple times.

You’re still in your dress, sitting stiffly on the couch while he moves around the tiny kitchen grabbing water bottles and energy bars like it’s any other mission night. Like he didn’t short-circuit your brain with one very public, very effective, very affectionate kiss.

He tosses a bottle your way without looking.

You recognize it for what it is; an interrogation tactic that the both of you have been taught. Meet a need no matter how small and the person is more inclined to give you the information you need.

“Thanks,” you mutter.

“Sure.”

You open it and take multiple sips, in an attempt to stall. But there’s nowhere for you to go. If you avoided the conversation tonight he would simply ask you in the morning with more eyes watching. At least here the two of you could talk about it alone. You won’t go down easily though.

He finally turns to face you, leans against the counter like he’s waiting for something. His expression is patient and no less warm than always.

“So,” you say, like it doesn’t feel weird. “Impeccable job out there, as always.”

He nods slowly. “You too.”

Silence.

The air’s thick with everything you’re not saying, and you start picking at the label on your bottle because suddenly you don’t know where to look.

Joaquin finally pushes off the counter and walks toward you. Not in a hurry, he’s calm and collected. Deliberate. His voice is soft when he asks, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say too quickly. You pause, voice softer when you speak again, “I’m fine. Just… y’know. Debrief brain, long night, longer morning coming. I miss my bed, my cat, eating real food.”

He tilts his head. “It’s not the mission you’re thinking about, right?”

You go quiet, opening your mouth to deny his line of questioning but nothing comes out. You’re rusty when it comes to dating or feelings of any kind— almost feeling like an antiquated machine.

He steps closer, enough to kneel in front of where you’re sitting. His hand rests gently on your knee—not pushing, just grounding.

“I didn’t mean to make things weird,” he says apologetically. “The kiss. I didn’t plan it— I wasn’t thinking that it would make you uncomfortable. Pero, querida… fue real.”

You finally look at him, wide-eyed unsure of what to say. It was real. He meant it. He meant to kiss you.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while,” he admits, his thumb mirroring his movements from before, stroking the curve of your knee. “The op just gave me an excuse.”

Your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to. “Oh.”

He gives a breath of a laugh. “That’s all you’ve got?” he teases.

You blink. “No, I mean—yeah, I mean—I— well.”

He squeezes your knee in an attempt to comfort you, “Breathe, princesa. It’s just me. You can tell me anything.”

At his urging you pause to take a breath, finally able to say, “It didn’t feel fake to me either.”

That earns you a soft, slow smile. Joaquin settles more firmly on his knees in front of you, ducking his head so that you have to meet his gaze. “So how about we try it again sometime,” he says, “no mission, no cover story—just us?”

You grin, a little shy. A little anxious. Isn’t this what you’ve been trying to avoid? Reality and protection. But this reality as far as you can tell. You look at him, your eyes searching, skimming through the depth of his brown eyes. You’re met with nothing but warmth, with reverence and hope.

“Are you asking me out, Torres? Really?”

“Damn right I am. If you let me,” he adds after a moment, voice gentler.

You let yourself look at him—really look—and for once, you stop fighting the warmth that blooms in your chest every time you’re with him.

“Yeah,” you say. “Okay. I think I’d like that.”

He pushes up, hand cupping your cheek like before so that he can kiss you.

And this second kiss?

It’s slower, softer— more thorough with no eyes watching and all the time in the world.

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @jaebugzz, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69, @moonymeloncholymoney, @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct, @alevanswrites, @articel1967, @lanoviadestiles, @zolassalgorhythm, @peacefangirl

— ‘you look hot when you cry’

.pairing— rooster x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

.themes— SMUT, no plot just porn lol

.warning— seggs lol, edging, orgasm denial, face sitting

.summary— whiny bottom bradley, whiny bottom bradley, whiny bottom bradley

his voice cracked as he let out another sob. bradley’s voice was going horse and he could feel a lump in his throat forming. he grips your hips trying to slow them while you ride his overstimulated cock. he pleads with you to slow your pace and you smirk at him in return and lean down to whisper in his ear.

“who knew you could look so hot while crying” the tone in your voice sends a shiver down his spine and he moves his grip down to your thighs.

“we can’t stop now baby, you’re doing so well” you shower him with praise and he eats it up. he loves when he’s told how good he’s doing. he lets out another deep groan. you place your hands over his to move them to your breasts and quicken your pace while watching his facial expressions change; you could get off on his expressions alone.

“yeah that feel good baby? you like how good i feel around you?” he’s an incoherent mess that whines and mumbles in agreement.

“s’good— ah fuck, s’good baby” he throws his head back on the head board. you put a hand on his chest and drag it down his abdomen, nearly drooling over how heavenly his body looks underneath yours. this position may make your legs sore but it is beyond worth it.

“you gonna cum handsome? you wanna fill me up for the third time tonight?” you egg him on as he whines for you to slow down again.

“you cum without permission i’m just gonna keep going, you gotta beg for me to let you cum” he readjust himself into an upright position to kiss and nip at your neck no doubt leaving hickies in his wake. you hear his whines in your ear and nearly cum on the spot yourself. his facial hair tickles your neck and grazes over the new formed bruises he’s creating and it feel amazing.

“please baby, please let me cum inside you” he looks at you with his signature puppy eyes and it makes it so hard to say no to him. but you really wanna see how much longer he can hold on for. you hold his face and pull him into kiss you while his hands return to your waist and you feel his hips stutter and a warm feeling inside of you. you pull away from the kiss slowly seeing a string of saliva connect between both of your mouths.

“i didn’t say you could cum yet naughty boy” you stare down at him with a disapproving look. “now you’ve gotten yourself in trouble”

“m’sorry you just felt so good” you push him back so he’s laying flat on the bed once again.

“you’re gonna have to clean me up bradley, i’m all messy now” you move up so he slips out of you with ease and he winces at his sensitivity. you move so your cunt hovers over his face.

“clean up your mess pretty boy” bradley eagerly pulls you down by your thighs to taste a combination of you and himself. he moans into your pussy and the vibrations along with his mustache against you has you gripping his hair and creating the lewdest of noises he’s ever hear from you and it turns him on more than he’d care to admit, even with after how many times he’s cum that night.

his grip on your thighs tightens and you’re certain there will be bruises in the shape of his fingertips in the morning, but the way his tongue fucks you and moves to your clit is too much for you to handle and before you can even warn him to slow down you feel that wave of pleasure wash over you and you tug a little too hard on his hair. you gently remove your grip from his hair and start to apologize for pulling when he moves flips you over so you’re underneath him.

“my turn” his tone is dark and you watch as he puts your leg over his shoulder and plant a kiss on your ankle before he pushes himself back into your abused cunt. you hiss at the stretch even though he was just inside of you less then two minutes ago.

“fuck bradley” he grips your waist with his free hand and starts pounding into you while moving his thumb over your clit and it feels like what you imagine pure bliss to be. you let out pornographic sounding moans and it sets off something in bradley and his pace becomes brutal but it feels so good.

“bradley, i’m gonna cum” it’s now your turn to plead with him. luckily for you he’s much more merciful. he leans into you hitting a new spot that he wasn’t reaching before and whispers to you.

“then cum for me pretty girl, cum all over my cock” his words send you over the edge and you both cum together. he gently pulls out you and takes your leg off his shoulder.

“you okay baby?” your soft bradley is back. you nod and he goes to get a rag to clean you both up, after he holds you close to him whiles still asking if you’re okay just in case and you have to reassure him about five times before he’s convinced.

“you were amazing baby” you smile up at him and kiss under his jaw. you close your eyes and prepare for sleep to take over before bradley cuts through the silence.

“am i really hot when i cry?” there’s a beat of silence before you respond.

“very”

.love always <3 pearl

The best part of the percy jackson books is that from percy's perspective hes just an easygoing funny cool guy who seems pretty harmless but the moment you see him from someone elses pov hes terrifying. Just a crazy good fighter, a force of nature killing machine, literally gets mistaken for a god in disguise. But he doesnt see that side of himself at all because hes too busy arguing with authority figures and respecting women. I love him

no caption just him

this scene got me feeling like a victorian man seeing an ankle 😔😔😔

(i need him to whimper in my ear like a needy bitch)

no caption necessary

Well-Designed

Connor (RK800) x gn!Reader | 2.3K | 18+

Connor’s learning how to use a mobile phone while the Cyberlife servers are down for maintenance. It’s easy enough for an android to figure out, but he’s getting caught up on using the camera function to send you photos of the parts of him he knows you like.

You were a sarcastic person. It was something Connor initially struggled to grasp as an android who took everything literally. But, as you spent more time together at work, he was beginning to learn.

That all went out the window when he got a phone.

You’d received the first text on an average Tuesday night. You were enjoying takeout on the couch, binging a new show your friend had convinced you to watch.

Hello (Y/n). This is Connor. You can contact me through this number if you need me.

You smiled at the perfectly punctuated, formal message. You replied back in a much more relaxed manner.

Hey Connor good to know

You saved his number and thought nothing more of it as you put your phone back down, returning your attention to your lonely dinner. That was until a minute later your screen lit up with a notification from him. There were no words in the preview, the message simply telling you he had sent 1 attachment.

Curious, you paused your show, almost choking on your food as you unlocked your phone. It was a mirror selfie, most of his face cut out apart from his lips and chin. The focus of the image were his hands, one holding his phone with the flash going off, the other flexed, fingers curled into his tie. Each tendon was emphasised by the shadows of the photo, the promise of power in the roadmap of those raised veins.

A trio of bubbles indicated that he was writing an accompanying message.

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