#(this idea has been in my mind lit all day so here's an open even tho she's existed for .5 seconds)

[muiitoloko]

I haven't thought about this idea until now: Turpin who is looking for a wife and arrives at Reader's family home and is curious to why Reader isn't being presented as an option for a wife but when he sees her he's immediately caught by her unique beauty (she's albino) and does everything to get her to fall for him (we know Turpin can be impatient sometimes but is patient with the Reader) perhaps she kisses him when visiting him at his office, their first ever kiss together?

(Sorry, I had to send it before it slipped my mind forever)

Title: I See You

Summary: Forgotten by society and dismissed by her own blood, she had long accepted invisibility—until Richard Turpin arrived, and chose her above all.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None

Author's Notes: I want to thank @smilingformoney for helping me with the title of this story, and I hope you all enjoy it! Sorry for not adding the kiss; maybe I'll do it in part two.

Also read on Ao3

As Richard Turpin stepped down from his carriage, the crisp London air wrapped around him, carrying the faint scent of damp stone and coal smoke. He straightened his coat, his sharp hazel eyes flicking up at the grand façade of the mansion before him. The house was newly acquired, though it bore the timeless elegance of old money, its columns proud, its windows glowing softly in the evening light.

Before he could rap the knocker, the great oak doors swung open, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered man with a welcoming smile.

"Richard!" The voice was warm, familiar.

Charles Langford, a recently relocated Londoner and old acquaintance from law school, had hardly changed over the years. His hair had silvered slightly at the temples, but his jovial energy was undimmed. Without hesitation, he reached forward, grasping Turpin’s hand in a firm shake before pulling him into an embrace, laughing as he clapped his friend on the back.

"You've hardly changed, Richard," Charles said, stepping back and beckoning him inside.

Turpin allowed himself to be led through the grand foyer, his gaze moving across the fine furnishings, the gilded mirrors reflecting the light of an ornate chandelier. It was clear that Charles had done well for himself.

"I must say, London suits you," Turpin remarked, his voice a smooth baritone, edged with its usual severity.

"As does it you," Charles replied, leading him toward the drawing room. "Come, I insist you meet my wife."

He turned and called toward the staircase, summoning his wife with the ease of a man accustomed to obedience. A moment later, a stately woman appeared, dressed in the refined fashion of the day, her manner poised yet warm as she greeted Turpin.

"It is an honor to finally meet you," she said with a pleasant curtsy. "My husband has spoken highly of you."

Turpin inclined his head, offering a stiff smile. "The honor is mine, madam."

They moved into the drawing room, where a servant had already begun preparing tea. The fire crackled in the hearth, lending the room a comfortable glow as they settled into conversation.

"You must tell me, Richard," Charles said after a time, his expression keen with interest. "Do you have a family of your own now?"

Turpin’s lips curled into a thin smirk. "Not as yet," he admitted. "But I am seeking a suitable wife."

Charles's face lit up at the words. "Splendid! That is wonderful news, indeed," he said, setting down his tea. "I find myself in the opposite predicament—I have five daughters, all in need of suitable husbands."

Turpin’s brow lifted slightly. Five daughters? It was a most fortunate coincidence.

Charles turned to his wife. "Darling, would you be so kind as to call the girls down?"

The woman nodded at once, rising gracefully from her seat. "Of course," she said before sweeping from the room.

Turpin took a slow sip of his tea, his mind already turning. He had not come here intending to secure a match, but perhaps fate had its own designs. Charles had always been a man of good standing, respectable lineage, and considerable wealth. If his daughters were of sound character and beauty, then this could be an opportunity worth seizing.

Minutes later, footsteps descended the grand staircase, followed by the soft murmur of female voices. The drawing room door opened, and in stepped four young women, their figures draped in the elegant silks and muslins befitting ladies of their status.

The eldest, a poised young woman with light brown hair pinned into an intricate style, held herself with quiet grace. Her features were delicate, her gaze intelligent, yet there was a reserve about her—a carefulness that Turpin recognized as the mark of one who observed more than she spoke.

Beside her stood a striking dark-haired girl, her posture impeccable, her lips slightly pursed as though she had already formed an opinion on the guest before her. Her eyes met Turpin’s unflinchingly—a sign of spirit, though whether that was a flaw or a merit, he would have to decide.

The third daughter, golden-haired and fair, smiled politely but kept her hands clasped together, her demure manner making her the most traditionally ladylike of the group.

The youngest present, a girl who could be no more than sixteen, lingered slightly behind her sisters, her curiosity evident but tempered by youthful shyness.

Charles gestured proudly toward them. "Turpin, may I introduce my daughters: Beatrice, Eleanor, Margaret, and Louisa." The girls curtsied in unison, their movements graceful, well-practiced.

Turpin inclined his head, his gaze assessing. They were well-bred, certainly. Each carried themselves with the refinement expected of women raised in a proper household.

"It is a pleasure," he murmured, his deep voice carrying the weight of measured approval.

The eldest, Beatrice, returned a polite smile, though her expression was cautious. "Likewise, sir."

Charles, beaming with satisfaction, gestured for his daughters to sit. "Come, my dears. Mr. Turpin is an old friend, and I hope you shall treat him as such."

The young women took their places, though there was an air of guarded curiosity between them.

Turpin observed them closely as conversation resumed. He was a man who prided himself on careful selection, and while he had not yet decided which—if any—of these young women would become his, the prospect had certainly become intriguing.

He set his teacup down, his sharp hazel eyes narrowing slightly. “You said five daughters, Charles.” His voice was smooth, measured, carrying the weight of unspoken curiosity. “And yet, I see only four before me.”

A shadow flickered across Charles’s face, his jovial expression faltering for the first time that evening. He hesitated, his gaze shifting toward his wife before clearing his throat and forcing a light chuckle. “Ah, well. Yes, that is true, my friend. But I doubt you would wish to make the acquaintance of my eldest. She… she is quite frail, you see. Past the age of marriage, besides.”

Turpin arched a brow, his expression unreadable. “Frail?”

Charles sighed, looking almost apologetic. “She was born with a rare condition. It—ah—it affects her appearance, among other things.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It is something we have long since accepted. I have made peace with the fact that she will remain with us. It is best for all involved.”

Turpin leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he studied Charles with quiet amusement. “And yet, you did not think to introduce me. Do you believe me so easily deterred?”

“Richard,” Charles began, his voice dropping, “it is not a matter of offense. It is simply—”

“I should like to meet her.” Turpin’s words were deliberate, cutting through whatever polite excuse Charles had been about to offer. His gaze was unwavering, the smirk on his lips as cool as the firelight playing against the fine mahogany walls.

Charles hesitated, clearly uncomfortable, before exhaling a defeated breath. With a reluctant nod, he gestured for a servant. “Send for Miss—” He paused, as if uncertain, then muttered, “Tell her she is wanted in the drawing room.”

As the servant disappeared, Charles shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Richard, I must warn you—”

But Turpin barely heard him. His ears picked up only fragments—“unusual”—“a fragile constitution”—“best if she stays out of the public eye”—before all sound faded into a low hum.

Because he had seen you.

Descending the grand staircase, your posture was measured, composed—almost as though you were bracing yourself for the weight of expectation. Your skin, pale as the moon’s glow, was almost luminous in the candlelight. Hair like spun silk, an unnatural shade of white, cascaded in soft waves over your shoulders, unadorned, unstyled, as though no one had taken much care to present you.

You were unlike your sisters, your presence something ethereal, haunting, as though you belonged to a world untouched by the trivialities of men.

Turpin stood without realizing it, his breath slow, deliberate, as his gaze roved over you with dark fascination. Albino.

He had seen few in his life, and none like you. You were an apparition, a ghostly vision made flesh, and yet—undeniably, strikingly—alive.

Charles shifted uneasily beside him. “She is—”

“Exquisite,” Turpin murmured, almost to himself.

You reached the foot of the staircase, lifting your gaze to him. Your eyes, pale as ice and framed by near-invisible lashes, met his without hesitation. There was no fear there, only a quiet, solemn understanding.

You were used to being looked at, scrutinized, judged. But Turpin was not a man so easily unsettled. If anything, his intrigue deepened.

“Miss Langford,” he said at last, his baritone voice low, rich. He stepped forward, offering his hand. “It is a pleasure.”

For a moment, you hesitated. Then, with the practiced grace of someone who had been taught to obey, you extended your fingers to him.

Turpin took your hand, and the moment his skin met yours, a dark thrill curled through him, cold and fragile. And yet, there was something else—a quiet, enduring strength beneath the delicacy; a mystery worth unraveling. Turpin smiled, slowly and knowingly.

Yes, you would do perfectly.

Charles clapped his hands together, breaking the strange, charged silence that had settled over the room. “Well, then! Now that introductions have been made, let us move to the dining room. A meal will do us all good.”

Turpin inclined his head, his sharp hazel eyes still lingering on you as Charles gestured for everyone to rise. The sisters, ever obedient, stood gracefully, following their father’s lead. You, however, moved with deliberate slowness, as though you had long learned that haste served no purpose when one was always overlooked.

The dining room was grand, its long mahogany table gleaming under the light of the chandelier. Silverware glinted, and the delicate porcelain dishes bore intricate floral patterns, a mark of wealth and refinement. Servants moved silently, ensuring that every place was set with precision.

Turpin took his seat at Charles’s right, the honored guest, while the daughters arranged themselves opposite and beside him. You sat at the far end, next to your mother, your posture impeccable but distant, as though you had already resigned yourself to fading into the background.

As the meal began, the sisters wasted no time in attempting to engage Turpin in conversation. Eleanor, ever curious, tilted her head slightly, her dark gaze fixed on him. “Sir, my father mentioned that you and he were acquainted in college. Is it true you studied together?”

Turpin, who had been idly swirling the deep red wine in his glass, lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Indeed, Miss Langford. Your father and I spent many years as classmates.” His baritone voice was smooth, deliberate, every word measured.

Margaret, the golden-haired sister, leaned forward slightly. “What was he like?” she asked with a small, mischievous smile. “I can hardly imagine my father as a young man.”

Charles let out a hearty chuckle, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, I am sure Richard has more important matters to discuss than my youthful indiscretions.”

Turpin, however, set his glass down and studied Charles with the faintest smirk. “On the contrary,” he said. “I remember your father well. Always diligent, always proper… but not without his moments of mischief.” He took a slow sip of his wine, letting the words settle before adding, “He had a fondness for music, as I recall.”

At this, Charles’s face lit up with nostalgia. “Ah, yes! I remember you enjoyed music as well, Turpin. You were always quite particular about it.”

Eleanor, intrigued, glanced between the two men. “Did you play, sir?” she asked.

Turpin shook his head. “No, but I did appreciate a fine performance.”

Charles beamed at this. “Well, you are in luck, my friend! Beatrice plays beautifully.” He turned to his eldest daughter. “Perhaps, after dinner, you might indulge us with a piece?”

Beatrice, ever the dutiful daughter, gave a poised nod. “If it pleases our guest, I shall.”

Turpin offered a polite smile, but his gaze, once again, drifted toward you. You had not spoken. You had not even looked at him. Instead, you focused on your meal, your fingers delicate as they handled your silverware, your every movement precise and controlled.

His eyes gleamed with intrigue, and so, he asked, “And what of you, Miss Langford?”

You did not raise your head. Instead, you took a small sip of your soup before replying in an even, unhurried tone, “I am not as interesting as my sisters, sir.” A brief silence followed.

Charles forced a laugh, though it was a touch strained. “Come now, my dear, you are far too modest. Richard, she plays the piano as well, though—” he chuckled, shaking his head “—of course, not as well as Beatrice.”

Turpin said nothing. He merely watched you. A flicker of something crossed your face, though it was gone before anyone but he could catch it. A quiet, resigned acceptance. You did not contest your father’s words, nor did you seek to prove yourself otherwise. You had long since learned your place.

He lifted his wineglass once more, swirling the liquid as he considered you. This was becoming more interesting by the moment.

As the last note of Beatrice’s performance faded into the air, polite applause filled the drawing-room. The sisters exchanged murmurs of approval; their mother beamed at her second-eldest daughter’s talent, while Charles nodded with pride.. Turpin, however, merely inclined his head, his expression unreadable. His sharp hazel eyes flicked once—just once—to where you sat at the far end of the room, your hands folded neatly in your lap, untouched by the evening’s pleasantries. You had neither clapped nor smiled, your presence as muted as the candlelight flickering against the walls.

You were accustomed to being overlooked, but Turpin? He noticed.

When Charles suggested retiring to his office for a drink, Turpin agreed without hesitation. The two men rose from their seats, leaving the women to their quiet conversations, their skirts rustling softly as they bid them good evening. As Turpin followed Charles down the dimly lit corridor, his polished boots tapping against the wooden floor, he let the sound settle into his mind, a measured rhythm to accompany his thoughts.

Charles’s office was a stately room—high shelves of thick leather-bound books lined the walls, and an ornate mahogany desk sat before a great window overlooking the gas-lit street below. A decanter of whiskey and two glasses awaited them, as though Charles had anticipated this discussion well before it had begun.

Charles poured them both a generous measure, his face already set in the expression of a man who relished a good conversation. “London has been kind to you, I see,” he remarked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before taking a thoughtful sip. “Though I must confess, I never expected to find you still a bachelor.”

Turpin did not respond at once. He took his seat opposite Charles, his fingers closing around the cool glass, but he did not drink yet. His gaze, sharp and penetrating, settled on Charles with calculated ease. “I had little interest in such matters,” he said finally, his baritone voice smooth, measured. “Until now.”

Charles brightened, chuckling as he leaned back in his chair. “Ah, yes. Beatrice is a fine girl. Graceful, accomplished. She would make an excellent wife.” He lifted his glass in silent toast, clearly pleased with himself. “You have good taste, my friend.”

Turpin did not immediately correct him. Instead, he brought his whiskey to his lips, took a slow sip, and allowed the warmth to settle in his chest. Then, setting the glass down with deliberate precision, he said, “It is not Beatrice I desire.”

Charles blinked. His jovial expression faltered, confusion knitting his brows. “Not Beatrice?” He sat forward slightly, his glass lowering as he studied Turpin with renewed curiosity. “Then—”

“Your eldest,” Turpin interrupted, his voice unwavering. “She is the one I intend to take as my wife.”

Silence stretched between them. Charles did not immediately speak, nor did he move. For the first time that evening, his confident, affable demeanor wavered, giving way to something more guarded. He exhaled slowly, setting his whiskey down with a muted clink.

“My friend,” he began, his voice quieter now, less assured, “you cannot be serious.”

Turpin tilted his head, his hooked nose casting a shadow under the flickering lamplight. “Do I appear to jest?” His tone was cool, edged with the sharpness of a man who was not accustomed to being questioned.

Charles exhaled, rubbing a hand over his chin. “I… do not misunderstand me, Turpin. It is not that I am ungrateful for your interest. But…” He hesitated, as though searching for the right words. “She is—she is different.”

“I am aware.”

“She will not make the wife that Beatrice would,” Charles pressed, his voice lowering, as though reluctant to even discuss the matter. “She is quiet. Withdrawn. You are a man of reputation, Richard. You require a wife who can stand beside you with confidence, who can hold her place in society.”

Turpin smirked. “And you believe she cannot?”

Charles hesitated, glancing toward the window as though searching for answers in the gas-lit streets below. “She is… unlike her sisters,” he admitted finally. “You saw as much tonight.”

Turpin merely leaned back in his chair, studying Charles with mild amusement. “That is precisely why she interests me.”

Charles let out a quiet breath, clearly at war with himself. He lifted his glass once more, took a slow sip, and then set it down with finality. “How long do you intend to court her?”

Turpin’s smirk widened, his sharp hazel eyes glinting with satisfaction. “That depends,” he murmured. “How long would you deem appropriate before I take her as my wife?”

Charles considered this for a long moment. His fingers tapped idly against the armrest of his chair, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he gave a slow nod. “Three months,” he said at last. “No less.”

Turpin inclined his head in agreement. “Very well.”

For a brief moment, it seemed the matter was settled. Charles sighed, lifting his glass once more, his friendly smile beginning to return. But then—just as Turpin reached for his whiskey—Charles’s expression darkened.

The warmth vanished from his eyes, the affability stripped away in an instant. He straightened, his broad shoulders stiffening as he leaned slightly forward.

“I must warn you, Turpin,” he said, his voice lower now, heavier, carrying a weight that had not been there before. “If you so much as cause her the slightest harm—if I hear of any cruelty, any neglect, anything less than the respect she deserves…” He paused, his gaze cold as steel. “I will kill you.”

The room fell deathly silent. Turpin, to his credit, did not flinch. His smirk barely wavered, his fingers still wrapped loosely around his glass. For a long moment, he simply regarded Charles with that same knowing amusement, his hazel eyes glinting under the dim light.

Then, at last, he arched a brow and murmured, “A lawyer, making threats? How very unseemly.”

Charles’s lips twitched, his smile returning just as quickly as it had vanished. He let out a hearty chuckle, shaking his head as he took another sip of his whiskey. “Ah, you know me, Turpin. Always protective of my own.”

Turpin chuckled softly, lifting his glass in silent toast before taking a slow, deliberate sip. But beneath his cool amusement, he knew well—Charles Langford was not a man who made idle threats.

And that, perhaps, made this arrangement all the more interesting.

In the days that followed, Turpin found himself engaged in the peculiar challenge of courting you. He had expected resistance, of course. A woman such as you—hidden away from society’s cruel gaze, long resigned to a life of quiet obscurity—would not yield so easily. But he had not expected this.

You were not defiant, nor were you openly disdainful of his presence. You were not like other women, fluttering their lashes or feigning modesty while hoping to secure his favor. No, your rejection was a quiet, measured thing, a simple insistence that you were not worth his trouble. You did not argue or refuse his gifts outright, but there was always that same, unwavering look in your pale eyes—a silent urging for him to give up.

And yet, how could he?

Turpin had never been the sort to let something slip through his fingers once he had set his sights on it, and you were no exception. If anything, his fascination only grew, deepening like ink spilled into water. You were an enigma, a delicate wraith confined to the dim glow of your father’s grand estate, emerging only under the strictest of circumstances, veiled and gloved as though even the sun itself had no right to touch you. He learned quickly that you hardly ever left the house, and when you did, you were so covered from head to toe that he often wondered if you even felt the warmth of the world beyond these walls.

And so, his courtship was relegated to the house. Always, there was someone present—your mother, a sister, a servant lingering in the background, their presence a barrier he could not yet breach. Not that it mattered, for you rarely granted him an opening, offering only polite acknowledgments and little else. When he spoke, you listened with quiet composure, your hands resting primly in your lap, your expression unreadable. Other times, you would sit at the piano, your fingers moving deftly over the keys, the music a more honest conversation than any words you ever deigned to offer him. And sometimes, you would simply read, your gaze cast downward, absorbed in some novel while he watched you in silence, studying you as one might study a portrait of great intrigue.

Turpin learned more of you through others than through you yourself. Your sisters, eager to fill the silences, provided glimpses into your world—small, seemingly inconsequential details that he tucked away with growing interest.

You liked to read. That much, he had observed.

You liked to bake pies, though you rarely did so now.

You liked tulips, though none adorned the house.

You could speak the language of the deaf.

That last revelation had caught him off guard. He had learned, through the idle chatter of your younger sisters, that years ago, your father had represented a deaf client, and you, acting as his secretary at the time, had taken it upon yourself to learn sign language in full so you could communicate with the man directly. It was, they had said, a testament to your patience, your intelligence. A skill you still possessed but rarely used.

Turpin did not know why the knowledge unsettled him, why it lingered in his mind long after the conversation had ended. He had no need for such a thing, no particular use for it. And yet, two days later, he sought out a tutor, meeting twice a week in secret. His progress was slow, and at times, his patience wore thin, but he persisted. He was not certain why.

Perhaps it was because no one else had bothered to do such a thing for you, perhaps it was because he wanted to see something other than resignation in your eyes, or perhaps it was simply because he enjoyed surprising you. Whatever the reason, the moment finally came.

Turpin had just stepped out of the house, the weight of another evening spent in your presence pressing against him as he approached his waiting carriage. But something stilled his steps. He felt it before he saw it—that peculiar sensation of being watched, the slow crawl of awareness along his spine.

He turned, and there you were.

Standing at the window, shrouded in candlelight, you were barely more than a ghostly silhouette against the glass. Your gaze met his, quiet, unreadable, as it always was.

And for once, Turpin did not smirk. He did not speak. Instead, he raised his hand, fingers shaping the words with the careful precision he had spent weeks learning.

I see you.

Your expression did not change at first. For a moment, you simply stared, as though uncertain whether you had truly witnessed what you had seen. Then, slowly, your pale lips parted, and though no sound emerged, he caught the faintest exhale, the ghost of a breath.

And then—at last—your eyes flickered with something new.

Surprise.

Not admiration. Not awe. Not any of the simpering nonsense he was accustomed to receiving from women. No, this was something deeper. You were not impressed; you were astonished. It was as if, for the first time, someone had acknowledged that you existed beyond what the world saw of you.

It wasn't enough, but it was a start; and Turpin, ever ruthless, ever determined, would take whatever ground he could gain.

[pcetstcrtured]

open to: anyone context: she is a single mom, maddy is her daughter

"if you can't accept the fact that maddy comes first, then this conversation isn't even worth having and i'm done here."

[etherealrin]

♡.ᐟ sanrio rings!

how proplayer!rin accidentally reveals his relationship with you to the public

warnings: none // wc: 929

note: my first post ever, hi LOL. ooc rin perhaps? female reader (reffered to as rin's gf)

rin forgets he even has the plastic ring on. so when he gets interviewed post-match and the cameraman zooms in on his right hand, which currently grips the microphone, he's a little confused.

"mr. itoshi!" the reporter exclaims, "what an odd choice of jewelry! and on the ring finger too, are you perhaps engaged?"

what? engaged? rin plasters a frown on his face, ready to go off at the woman.

"i have no idea what y-" rin begins, but cuts himself off. oh shit, he thinks. of course, on his ring finger sat the stupid little kuromi ring he had gotten with you in shibuya last week. his mind races back to the memory, and he groans internally.

"rin, please! let's get matching ones!" you squealed as you dragged him towards the staggering rows of gachapons deep inside the city's neon lit streets. the whole shop was filled to the brim with machine after machine, and one in particular had caught your eye. it was one containing comically large rings of sanrio character faces, ranging from cinamoroll to my melody to kuromi.

"fine, if that's really what you want to spend 400 yen on," he had sighed. he knew you would somehow rope him into wearing the diabolical little accesory.

"i really hope we get my melody and kuromi! y'know it's basically canon that they like each other, right?" you told him, laughing.

"i hope you know i'm not familiar with any of the sanrio lore," rin began. "but- if it's with you, it's not so bad…i guess." the last part was barely audible. you pushed him toward the white machine, with a little "you first!"

to his fortune (or now his misfortune, he figured) he did indeed manage to obtain the black kuromi ring you had wanted him to wear. his attention then shifted to you. you were crouched down over the machine, and, wait…why were you performing a summoning ritual? you had pulled up my melody pictures on your phone and waved it around like a mystic.

"you're silly," rin deadpanned.

"but it'll work, watch this!" you shot back. the tips of your finger grasped the small wheel of the gacha machine and you turned it slowly. an opaque pink ball dropped out of the prize slot. "i did it! see?" you said smugly, giving rin a pointed look. "now you have to put yours on, so we match!"

rin sighed, but he slipped the ring onto his finger, choosing the exact same placement you had done for youself. the right ring finger?

"hey- you do know what this means right?" he asked you, a faint rose tinting his cheeks.

you giggled. "it's a promise! we're now engaged under the laws of sanrio!"

"so? what's the news?" the reporter inquires again. rin snaps back to the present, having temporarily forgotten he was in a post-match interview and on nationwide live television. oh, you must be watching too, he realizes. itoshi rin could only come up with one explanation now: the truth.

"i got it with my girlfriend the other day, she wanted to match," he says with all air of nonchalance that he can muster.

"girlfriend? mr. itoshi, you're in a relationship?" the reporter almost drops her microphone out of shock. rin feels his cheeks heat up, and he wants to smack himself for blushing on live television at the mention of you.

"yes. i have been in one for quite a while now," rin starts. "and she's the sweetest, most stunning girl in the entire universe. now if you're done asking me about my private life, do you have anything for the real game? or are we done here?"

"o-oh, yes…" the reporter babbles on about something he had done in the match and rin wraps up the interview at light speed, wanting to leave and to see you immediately.

when rin finally knocks on the door to your third floor apartment (and notices the glittery sanrio stickers plastered onto it) you open it almost instantly, with a finger pointing at his face.

"i saw your interview," you say, dragging him into your living room where he promptly sprawls out on the sofa, hiding his face in his hands. "i can't believe you forgot to take it off, it's been three days!" you laugh. "but…it was cute. really, thank you. i know how hard it must have been to tell the whole world about us,"

"it was worth it, for you," rin says softly. he's a bit embarrased now. yet he's running his fingers through your silky hair now, twisting and turning it, his lilting touch teasing your exposed shoulder and making you giggle as if being tickled. you notice the kuromi ring, still sitting on his ring finger as if it was the most rightful place for it to belong. he grabs your own right hand, lining your fingers side by side with his, grinning a little at the pink my melody on yours.

"hmmm, i love you too, rin" you reply to the boy. he pulls you closer and inhales deeply, breathing in your nectarine-like sweet perfume.

"you should come to my game next week in my jersey," he mentions suddenly. "i mean there's no point in going through the agony of having lukewarm people online trying to guess who my girl is, i want everyone to know its you." you can't help but smile up at rin. his azure eyes shine with something fragile and genuine, love. you give him a soft, small kiss, and he sighs contentedly.

"i'd love to," you promise.

a/n: if you've made it this far i luv u, this is inspired by the sanrio rings i got with my friend haha

masterlist!

[unabashegirl]

Love Island — part 2

AU. Based on the TV show.

Author's note: I just wanted to take a moment to say a massive thank you for the incredible support you’ve shown for the first part of Love Island! Your reblogs, messages, and comments truly mean the world to me — I’ve read every single one with a huge smile on my face. You all make writing this series so much fun 💛

If there’s anything you’d like to see more of — whether it's certain dynamics, steamy moments, fluff, angst, or just pure drama — don’t be shy! My inbox is always open for blurb or one-shot requests.I’d love to bring your ideas to life!

⭐️ Please consider joining my Patreon -> Patreon

It’s only day two, but there’s already trouble in paradise. Y/N’s about to head upstairs to change, and of course, she’s bringing her best mate in the villa along for a little gossip session. After all, what would Love Island be without a bit of a squeak-filled chat about the latest hunk to drop in?

Y/N grabbed Chloe by the arm, a grin spreading across her face. “Come on, we need to talk!”

“Oh, spill, babe!” Chloe squeaked, and the two of them burst into laughter as they darted upstairs to the changing room. The laughter echoed through the villa as the girls nearly tripped over each other, barely containing their excitement.

Looks like someone’s eager for a debrief... but can you blame them? A certain tall, dark, and shirtless someone has all our heads turning.

The door clicked shut behind them as they found a spot in front of the mirror. Y/N rifled through her drawer, trying to look casual as she pulled out a sundress. Chloe leaned in, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Alright, so…” Chloe began, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “Harry! What do we think?”

Y/N tried to keep a straight face, but a giggle slipped out. “Oh, he’s... he’s definitely got a presence, doesn’t he?”

“Presence?” Chloe repeated, rolling her eyes. “Babe, he’s got more than just ‘presence.’ I saw the way he was looking at you. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit jealous!”

Y/N bit her lip, looking at her reflection as she adjusted her dress. “I mean, he’s fit, yeah. And the way he carries himself… I don’t know, there’s something about him.”

“Something about him,” she says. Go on, love, you can admit it—you’ve already got it bad! But what will Tom think if he catches a whiff of this little chat?

Chloe raised her eyebrows, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Listen, all I’m saying is, if he pulled me for a chat, I wouldn’t mind... but don’t worry, he’s all yours.”

“Oh, stop it!” Y/N said, nudging Chloe’s shoulder with a laugh. “Tom’s going to be fuming if he catches us even mentioning Harry.”

Chloe smirked, flipping her hair. “Let him fume! You’re here to find the one, not keep people happy. And besides, it’s not like Harry’s shy about showing he’s interested in you. Half the villa saw him making his way over to you this morning.”

Half the villa, you say? Well, folks, sounds like Tom may have some competition brewing—and Y/N’s the prize.

The door swung open, and in came Georgia with Lila and Amber, their voices spilling in like a burst of energy.

“There you are!” Georgia exclaimed, hands on her hips as she spotted Chloe and Y/N. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you two.”

“Oi, we’re right here!” Chloe laughed, exchanging a look with Y/N.

Georgia’s face lit up as she plopped down on the bench beside them. “I just have to say it… I really, really fancy Harry. Like, he could actually be the one.”

Chloe glanced sideways at Y/N, eyes widening, clearly trying not to laugh. Y/N looked away, keeping her expression neutral as she fiddled with her bikini strings.

“Oh, absolutely, babe,” Lila chimed in, grinning. “If you don’t make a move, I’m definitely giving him a shot.”

Georgia tossed her hair with a laugh, waving her hand. “Oh, go on then. I allow it. But you better be quick about it, or I’ll be the one nabbing him first.”

The girls dissolved into laughter, but then Georgia’s gaze turned thoughtful, and she leaned back, crossing her arms. “But seriously, though… no one in a stable relationship should be getting involved with him.”

A brief silence fell over the group as the words hung in the air. Chloe raised her brows, glancing again at Y/N with a knowing smile that didn’t go unnoticed.

Y/N chuckled, keeping her tone light. “Well, good thing it’s early days, yeah? Plenty of time for all of us to figure out what we want.”

Ooh, sounds like there’s a bit more at stake here than we thought. With the girls all vying for a piece of Harry, looks like things might heat up faster than anyone bargained for.

Amber crossed her arms and gave Georgia a skeptical look. “Hang on, that makes no sense, Georgia. Isn’t the whole point of Love Island to explore connections? Harry’s the one who should be deciding who he wants to be with, not us making some rule about it.”

Georgia raised an eyebrow, looking a bit taken aback. “Alright, Amber, but I’m just saying, it’s a bit out of line for someone in a solid coupling to be sniffing around him, don’t you think?”

Amber shrugged, not backing down. “If Harry wants to pull me for a chat, I’m not about to follow your silly rule, Georgia. And if he expresses interest in me, I’m definitely not holding back.”

Georgia’s jaw tightened, and she put her hands on her hips. “You know what, Amber? That’s not exactly being a ‘girls’ girl,’ is it? We’re all supposed to be on the same page here.”

Amber rolled her eyes, not missing a beat. “Girls’ girl? I’m here to find a connection, not to stick to some imaginary rulebook.”

Chloe and Y/N exchanged glances, struggling not to laugh at the sudden tension.

Looks like Georgia’s ‘rules’ aren’t quite going over as planned. Will Amber’s bold stance earn her a shot at Harry, or will Georgia’s “girls’ girl” code keep things from getting messy? Well, only time will tell—on Love Island, it’s every girl for herself.

Y/N mouthed “Wow!” at Chloe, eyebrows raised in disbelief. With a quick laugh, she picked up her sunglasses. “Right, I’m heading downstairs to tan and actually enjoy my book. Coming?”

“Absolutely,” Chloe grinned, trailing behind her. The two of them slipped outside and settled by the pool, stretching out on the loungers as Y/N flipped open her book.

Chloe leaned over, her tone quiet but full of curiosity. “So, what do you reckon about Georgia? She’s… a lot.”

Y/N sighed, sliding her sunglasses up her nose. “Yeah, Georgia’s definitely going to be an issue. Her and Tom both. It’s like… they’re more focused on the drama than actually getting to know people.”

Chloe laughed. “Spot on. Can already see her kicking off if Harry so much as looks at anyone else.”

Just then, their best mate in the villa, Callum, strolled over, plopping himself down beside them with a grin. “Alright, ladies. What’s all this gossip without me, eh?”

Y/N chuckled. “Nothing, don’t worry. Just a bit of Georgia talk. You know how it is.”

Callum raised an eyebrow, glancing between them. “I can imagine”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. What about Tom, though? You talk to him this morning?”

Y/N sighed, closing her book for a moment. “He’s… sweet, but he’s already worried about where my head’s at. Keeps asking if I’m interested in Harry.”

Callum chuckled, shaking his head. “Not surprised. He’s definitely feeling the heat.”

Y/N nudged Callum with a playful grin. “Listen, if you go and tell the other lads any of this, I’ll kill you.”

Callum raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “Alright, alright, not a word. My lips are sealed.”

Chloe leaned in, curiosity glinting in her eyes. “So… what’s the verdict then? What are you feeling?”

Y/N sighed, adjusting her sunglasses as she stared out over the pool. “Honestly? Tom’s… he’s lovely. He’s comfortable, you know? Comforting, even. But there’s no spark, no real passion there. I don’t feel a real connection.”

Chloe nodded, giving her a knowing smile. “That’s exactly it, though, isn’t it? If there’s no fire…”

Callum grinned, nudging her again. “So what you’re saying is… it’s not exactly end game with Tom, yeah?”

Y/N shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Not unless something changes, and fast.”

Well, folks, looks like the door is still wide open for a certain newcomer to spark a little fire in Y/N’s heart. And with Tom in the dark… this just might be the calm before the storm.

t’s challenge time in the villa! And today, it’s all about secrets. The game? Simple: each boy will slide down a massive ramp of slime, grab a card with a girl’s secret written on it, and read it out loud for the whole villa to hear. Then, he’ll make his guess by planting a kiss on the girl he thinks it’s about. Easy? Hardly. With secrets this juicy, the sparks are about to fly.

First up, it’s our very own new boy, Harry. Let’s see what he’s got…

Harry positioned himself at the top of the slippery ramp, a playful grin plastered across his face. With a cheeky shove, he launched himself down the slimy slope, landing with a splash at the bottom. He quickly grabbed the card, shaking off some goo as he read it aloud.

“This girl once went on a date with two different guys on the same night and accidentally mixed them up when they texted her later.”

The villa erupted in laughter, the girls exchanging wide-eyed glances as they tried to suppress their giggles. Harry scanned the group, his gaze landing on Y/N with a playful sparkle in his eyes.

With a confident stride, Harry stepped forward, closing the gap between them. He leaned in, capturing Y/N’s lips with a kiss that was anything but casual. It was deep and steamy, igniting a spark that sent a wave of heat rushing through her. The laughter faded as everyone watched, mouths agape, the chemistry between them palpable.

As he pulled back, a satisfied grin spread across Harry's face. “Well, I had to be sure,” he said, his voice low and playful, leaving Y/N breathless and the others in stunned silence.

The card was flipped, revealing that the secret actually belonged to Lila, much to everyone’s surprise.

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Shit”.

And there you have it, folks! A kiss that lit up the villa and sent shockwaves through the competition. Harry may have missed the secret, but that kiss? That’s a score for Y/N, and things are just heating up in the Love Island villa!

Next up, it’s Tom’s turn to take the slippery plunge into the chaos of secrets. With a determined look on his face, he approaches the ramp, ready to play his hand in this game of revelations. Will he manage to impress Y/N with his guess, or will he fall flat?

Tom launched himself down the slimy ramp, landing with a splat and swiftly grabbing the card. With a flourish, he read aloud, “This girl once swiped right on her ex’s best mate just to make him jealous, only to have them both show up at her door the next day!”

Laughter erupted in the villa again, and the girls exchanged knowing glances. Tom looked around, scanning the group, and finally settled on Y/N, a cheeky smile on his face. “Alright, let’s see if I can take a shot at this.”

Y/N felt a flutter of anticipation but quickly squashed it down. As Tom stepped toward her, she allowed him to lean in, but she knew she wasn’t feeling the same spark she had with Harry.

Tom’s lips met hers, and while it was nice, it didn’t ignite the fire she had hoped for. It was a brief kiss, lacking the intensity that had come from Harry just moments before. She forced a smile as he pulled back, trying to mask her disappointment.

Tom grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Was that you?

The card was flipped, revealing that the secret belonged to Chloe.

The room erupted into laughter again, and Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes, a small smirk on her face.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, his thoughts racing. Tom’s kiss had seemed so casual, so easy, and yet it had struck something deep within him. He thought back to the kiss he shared with Y/N, how electric it had felt, and how much he wanted to feel that again.

Harry's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and determination. He had only just arrived, yet here he was, feeling the pressure of this unexpected connection. He had to figure out how to navigate this budding relationship amidst the chaos of the villa.

As the laughter continued and the next boy prepared for his turn, Harry caught Y/N's eye across the room. She looked back at him, a curious smile on her lips, and in that moment, he knew he couldn’t just stand by. Something was pulling him towards her, and he needed to act on it before it was too late.

With the game still unfolding and emotions swirling, it was clear that this summer was going to be anything but ordinary. Let the drama begin!

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the villa, the atmosphere shifted from playful competition to a more intimate vibe. Y/N stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the straps of her long, tight red dress that hugged her curves perfectly. She felt confident and ready to make a statement, the color a bold choice that echoed her desire to stand out.

Just as she finished primping, a loud voice boomed from downstairs. “I’ve got a text!”

Y/N’s heart raced as she hurried to the top of the stairs, the anticipation hanging in the air. She peered down to see Harry holding his phone, a mischievous grin on his face, surrounded by the other contestants who were equally eager to hear the news.

Harry glanced at the message, a mix of excitement and tension flickering across his face. “Alright, here goes…” He cleared his throat dramatically before reading, “Harry, the time has come for you to choose whom you will be coupling with tonight!”

A hush fell over the group as the weight of the announcement sank in. Y/N felt her stomach drop at the implications of Harry's choice. The tension in the air was palpable, and she could see the other contestants exchanging nervous glances, the gravity of the situation setting in.

“Right, so it’s all on me, then,” Harry said, his playful demeanor giving way to a more serious tone. “No pressure at all, right?”

Y/N’s heart raced at the thought of being chosen—or worse, being left behind. Would Harry choose her? The thrill of the unknown buzzed in the air as she felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her. She wanted to believe that their earlier connection meant something, but the uncertainty lingered.

The warm glow of the fire pit flickered against the backdrop of the villa, casting a cozy ambiance as the night deepened. The contestants sat in their couples, anticipation palpable in the air, their faces illuminated by the dancing flames. All eyes were on Harry, who stood at the front, his usual confidence slightly wavering as he prepared to make his choice.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, his nerves evident as he took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Alright, everyone,” he began, his voice steady but laced with a hint of apprehension. “This is a bit nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”

Laughter rippled through the group, easing the tension just a bit. Harry glanced at Y/N, who sat among the others, her eyes focused on him, a mixture of hope and anxiety swirling within them. He felt a rush of warmth as he continued.

“I’ve had a brilliant time here so far, and it’s all thanks to the amazing people around me. But there’s one girl in particular who’s really stood out to me,” he said, his gaze drifting toward Y/N. “She’s lovely, funny, and everything just feels so easy with her. It’s like I don’t have to force anything; it just flows naturally.”

“I know that we haven’t had a lot of time to get to know each other yet,” Harry continued, “but I feel a real connection with her, something I haven’t experienced in a while.” He paused, letting his words sink in as he gauged the reactions around him.

“And that’s why,” he said, a smile breaking through his nervousness, “tonight, I’ve decided to couple up with Y/N.”

A cheer erupted from the others, and Y/N’s heart soared at his declaration. Relief washed over her as she exchanged a glance with Harry, their eyes locking in a moment that felt electric. The fire crackled beside them, mirroring the excitement in the air, and Y/N couldn’t help but grin as she moved closer to him.

“Looks like Harry has made his choice, and it’s a choice that might just set the villa ablaze!” the narrator’s voice chimed in, the playful tone adding to the vibrant atmosphere. “But with new flames igniting, what does this mean for the other couples? Stay tuned, because the drama is just beginning!”

let me know if you would like me to add you to the tag list!

TAGLIST: @st-ev-ie, @harrystyleshotwife, @valuunit, @familyshow-orisit

--> part 3

[livelaughloveluffy]

be mine - a valentine's day special with the monster trio, ace, and law!!!

a/n: happy valentines day everyone!!! i figured since the only valentine i have in my life are all my lovely fictional men, i would write only the fluffiest of headcanons for you guys!!

nothing but fluff here 💗

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monkey d. luffy

-valentine's day morning you get woken up to luffy jumping on top of you, smothering you in kisses. he's so excited to give you the small presents he got for you (a hand-picked bouquet, a locket with his initials that nami helped him pick out, and of course, lots and lots of chocolate).

-while the captain isn't the biggest romantic in the world, he definitely had an idea of how he wanted to spend the day with you. and with some help from the crew, he was able to make it a reality. luffy excitedly led you towards nami's tangerine trees, where you spotted the cutest picnic overlooking the ocean. the two of you spend the day basking in the sun, feeding each other chocolate and other sweet treats, utterly intertwined with one another.

-quality time and physical touch are luffy's main love languages so he's expectedly clingy to you all day, not that you mind. endless cuddles are just a given. every once and a while you'll get lulled to sleep as luffy gently plays with your hair, leaving gentle but sloppy kisses on your collarbones.

roronoa zoro

-as much as he puts on the front of being a moody, uncaring guy, you know zoro has the softest place in his heart for you. but for valentines day, he at first treats it like just another day. no mention of it, almost as if he forgot.

-by early evening, it's hard to not get your feelings just a little bit hurt over the fact that zoro forgot valentines day. as you stand at the taffrail overlooking the vast ocean, you feel zoro's hand against the smalls of your back, his chin resting on your shoulder as he mumbles "c'mere... you really didn't think i forgot, did you?" as he leads you into the kitchen on the thousand sunny. opening the door to a candlelit dinner made up for two, and as your eyes well up in tears with shock, zoro places a gentle kiss on your cheek "happy valentines day"

-you couldn't help but swoon when you found out the swordsman had actually been taking private cooking lessons with sanji for months preparing for this surprise. the chef initially deemed the man to be utterly hopeless and offered to cook for the two of you, but zoro insisted he learned and did it himself.

black leg sanji

-it's literally no surprise at all that this man is a certified lover boy. you'll wake up to a room full of flowers, a love letter on your nightstand, and sanji hand-delivering his freshly made breakfast in bed for you.

-he makes the entire day about you and his devotion to you. you are utterly pampered. all meals eaten on the prettiest bedside tray, with a special place setting and flower decor. you have to practically beg the man to feed yourself, because he insisted that even lifting a spoon or fork was too much for you to do. he'll set up a candle-lit bubble bath for you in the evening and stay in the bathroom with you to massage your back and scrub your hair.

-and of course, sanji makes only the most extravagant dessert for you. you can tell the countless hours he spent in the kitchen, perfecting his recipe. and while he tries to stifle his yawns, you have to pull the hopless cook into bed with you. thanking him for everything he did, as you find your way into his arms, gentle brushing his bangs out of his face before you both eventually fall asleep together.

portgas d. ace

-ace is definitely the most casual out of all the boys about valentines day, however that doesn't mean its because of a lack of thought or effort into the day.

-the feeling of ace's large warm hand against your cheek as he leans in to give you a kiss on the forehead, the soft whisper of "happy valentines day, baby." reaches your ears. the two of you collectively agree that you'd both rather just spend the day cuddled up together. no view or restaurant would ever be more comfortable than ace's bare chest. his hand softly running up and down your back, occasionally tracing shapes and patterns into your skin.

-even though you mutually agreed to keep things casual, ace surprised you with the cutest gift he had been holding on to for you. a large bouquet of your favorite flowers, as well as a matching pair to his signature necklace and bracelet.

trafalgar water d. law

-like zoro, as much as law tries to downplay his affection for you, his sweet affection for you consistently shines through all his many actions.

-the captain of the heart pirates led you to believe that he was swamped with work on valentines day, and didn't have time for you, though he promised to celebrate over the weekend with you. so when you returned to your room to the largest bouquet of roses placed on your bed alongside your favorite candy, your heart skipped a beat. instead he had been busy planning a spa day for you. a warm bubble bath with flower petals scattered in it, handmade face masks, and of course, law, ready to pamper you.

-as the two of you are getting ready for bed, law hands you a thin notebook. it's only after reading it that you discover it's a long love letter he's been writing to you since the two of you had started dating. he'll try and brush off the gesture, his gruff voice interrupting your thanks with a grumbled "it's nothing..." as happy tears fall down your cheeks.

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tags ♡: @dindjarins1ut @chibinasuu @twiishaa @vamphoria @3v37773 @thepotatocatto @irethepotato @peachycat17 @dreamcastgirl99 @acesdiary @sanji-soup @lilypadmomentum @ermbehindyou @erose-0707 @suga-tofu @kcch-ns @hamhamhamtaro @adamsfanficstash @raddelusionaldive @sparkyvibes @certain-tragedies @roronoazoroswife @chillerkiller @teewon @sharycatx3 @phoehav @gracefulcargo51 @moonpri @thissaintjessi @sunshineagony

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[raytoelicker]

xv. young blood spills tonight (written work)

It's a really, really beautiful fucking day. That's no doubt. Like, at all.

Why's that, you ask?

Well, simply because the endless sea above you is winking at the little organisms with their clear blue skies devoid of the usual cotton white. Then, there’s also the breeze that has been blessing (bugging) everyone's asses by flipping skirts and sending papers flying.

And well, yeah, those are the usual signs that your day is going to go well.

The biggest catch, whatsoever?

Shitty Asshole (Scaramouche) finally decided to stop acting like there was a permanent stick up his ass with every interaction he had with you.

Or in simpler terms, he stopped bothering you.

And hey, going by your definition, it really means that he hasn't called you names nor did he prolong a conversation by unabashedly acting like a fuckboy to grind your gears.

And, well. That? That's really fucking strange.

Some people (Hu tao) may suggest going to the person, and asking, “hey, are you okay?” considering that the asshole looks like he got hired by a shitty animation studio and was overworked during the weekdays, but considering how much he irritates you on a normal day?

You would dare say; hell, no. You don't have any damn plans in crossing the lines of rivalry just to reignite the spark of hatred that's holding your relationship with him. You also don't got any damn clue if he stopped simply because he felt guilty for pushing you down (which, going by your interactions with him on Monday, doesn't seem to be the case at all) nor if he stopped because his ginger friend is finally shooting his shot (which also doesn't seem to be the case since it's unreasonable as hell).

Either way, you'd rather enjoy this blissful predicament rather than finding the catalyst behind it.

(You completely, and resolutely ignore the gnawing itchy bitch inside of you that keeps moaning about the fact that you haven't had a proper argument with the Asshole since Monday.)

And besides, it's not like it's any of your business to pry on his personal problems, right?

So yeah, the angel on your shoulder (that annoyingly sounds a lot like Hu tao) can fuck off, and the beautiful day you spoke of can continue on without any grape-hair bothering you.

A giggle left your lips, the sound utterly high. If you were in the right state of mind, you would've been nauseated with how you're acting.

But.. right now? You’re quite literally bouncing off from, holy shit, I'm gonna go on a date with Childe—to—Oh my god, what am I even gonna wear!?—to—He’s such a flirt, god, he's so attractive–

—and then, finally—wait, hold on, I need to fulfill that damn request, fuck!

With that, disgust burns your esophagus and you're instantly upset, because fucking hell. You have to hang out with the guy that's been avoiding you for.. what? A fucking week? Just ‘cause of some shitty obscure reason?

Like, seriously, come on. Pushing you off the stairs is nothing but a damn stepping stone for your hatred to go onward, right? It's really nothing, so why the fuck is he doing this cold-shoulder thing?

You scoff as you turn on your phone, opening the contacts app, then scrolling until you see the infamous, “the insufferable asshole whom i shall not dare interact”.

God, the nickname was such a great idea.

The conversation that lit against your face brings some sort of annoying churning in your stomach, and you scowl at the feeling. Don't tell me I'm feeling sentimental about this shit.

Then, as you shudder from the prick needles poking at your skin, you instantly chuck the thought to the murkiest depths of your mind; hoping to never be seen again because, holy fuck.

Deeply sighing, you clicked on the call button, index finger lightly tapping and making circles on the counter as you pressed the phone to your ear.

The phone luckily rings until it makes a familiar clicking sound.

“What—”

“Shut up, where are yo—actually, no, scratch that. Come here early, like right now, ASAP.”

A notable silence on the other line. You briefly wonder if you should've let him finish, but then again, any pleasant business the other had could fucking wait.

“Yeah, no. I'm on my way to the entrance road, dipshit,” the other bit out after a moment. There's light sweeps of air in the background, and a fleeting thought occurs to you that the Asshole might be walking considering the lack of engine noise.

You cross your legs, squinting at the door because wasn't the entrance road atleast 3 miles away from the café? isn't that so far?

“...Don’t tell me the Grand Scaramouche is actually walking? Whatever happened to your Porsche, hm?”

Scaramouche simply chuckled, the sound reverberating through your spine, sending shudders along the way. You end up reaching for the blanket that, fuck, was currently perched on a damn desk chair a feet away from you.

For a few seconds, the words simply hung in the air.

You have half a mind to ask what the fuck was up with him, only to absolutely shrug it off as you finally snatch the blanket, fabric warm and just so fucking perfect, goddamnit.

It's then the Asshole finally makes a noise and—

“Well, might as well enjoy the shitty scenery before I quit, right?

Your entire world stops. Not in the sense like those shitty romantic scenes, of course, but in the sense that you just discovered something so fucking shocking that your world quite literally stops functioning for a second.

Because, seriously, what the ever-loving fuck?

Don't tell me I fucking did something wrong? I didn't even do anything. Like, shit. But didn't we just have a talk in monday? didn't we, like err, fucking.. glare at each other in wednesday? What the fuck is up with this guy? Is he jealous? Wait no, that's not really reasonable. Is it Childe? Is he avoiding me because Childe told him to just so he could shoot his shot? Wait, maybe it was the push—no, fuck, wait. What was all that talk about, ‘wanting to stay here a little bit fucking longer, then—

A snort. A really, ugly and mocking snort, “you do realize you've been muttering all that like a stupid ass ESPN commentator, right?”

And right now, as tempting as the idea of screaming, “what the fuck do you mean!? what was all that beating for then!?” to him really is: you, a beloved fuckin’ saint, instead, made the very difficult and extremely mature decision to not push your luck.

And that is to hang the fuck up, LMAO.

Might be an overreaction considering that you once chanted a whole ass pseudo-manifestation on Scaramouche quitting for some inexplicable reason but..

..It's an embarrassment to your dignity to admit—but, fuck it, anyway.

You'd rather take a barrel of a sailor’s vocabulary ebbing out of his mouth rather than this odd silent treatment he's been doing with you.

It's not that you missed him or anything—god, no—it’s just.. really anticlimactic considering that the only connection the two of you have is your rivalry with him; with all the shitty remarks he makes, the brawls you have with him, and the constant bickerings that happens on a daily basis now that you were coworkers.

At some point, you've always kept the notion of having a relationship more than just hatred in the damn Pandora’s box, simply because you couldn't really fathom something stable and promising with him, especially with the Asshole’s personality being equivalent to having a fire up your buttcrack.

Not only that, there's no fucking way that asshole is getting away after pushing you off down the stairs (1), doing a whole pep-talk about wanting to stay in the café longer (2), offhandedly showing up to the first day with his goddamn porsche whom you haven't seen in a few days now and you miss it so bad (3), get into a brawl only to have your beloved grandmother see it and force the two of you into a 30-minute lecture on why fighting brings bad benefits (4), and be one of the sole witnesses of you having a panic attack (5) only to fucking leave?

Well, atleast he's got the fucking balls.

Feeling the rush of adrenaline, you pocketed your phone, the initial plan of changing out of your clothes completely and utterly forgotten as you hurriedly scurried to put on your shoes and bursted out of the room.

Your grandmother furrowed her brow at the sight and sound of the door slamming against the wall, “dear? where are you headed to? why are you still in your clothes?”

You grabbed your necessities (phone, check, money, check, food.. nah, scratch that), and sent a reluctant glance at your confused grandmother, “can I take the shift off today? I.. need to catch up with a friend super, duper quickly and apparently the ass—ass.. something is leaving today. And they didn't even tell me about it so—”

“Alright, alright,” Your grandmother gently interjected, attention now fixated on whatever was on the counter, “you ought to tell me these earlier though, okay? I'll call Xiao to help out.”

A groan left your lips, hand already twisting the knob as you turned one last time, “tell him to not act like a stuck-up dick though!”

And distantly, “make sure to bring an umbrella!” along with the cracked laughter resonating in the air as you took off.

–

The wind howled through the trees, sending chills up your spine. Your grandmother was fucking right. You should've bought a damn umbrella.

You rubbed at your arms, slowly contemplating whether to go back to the café and just endure the agonizing back pain for a couple of days, or wait in the goddamn bus stop since most likely, the Asshole will probably go through there.

The latter is so, so fucking tempting, especially with how there's light rain dotting the pavement now—

Wait, light rain?

Panic strikes, you cautiously and hesitantly glanced up at the sky, as if it was some blood-curdling demon drooling at the sight of a frightened prey. Fuck, you should've known it was going to fucking rain cats and dogs the moment you saw the skies being abundantly clear as fuck.

And, holy shit. The café is atleast a mile away and the bus stop is still at least 3 blocks down, fuck wait, what do I do!? Should I call the Asshole? Surely, he brought a fucking umbrella, right? Hold on, shit. Fuck this motherfucking—

Just as you’re about to curse the entire fucking mother nature bloodline, the featherlight droplets tapping onto your shoulders turns into something much, much more overwhelmingly heavier, soaking your head then your clothes.

A fleeting thought of jumping off the river near the café crosses your mind, but you immediately shrug it off.

Eventually, an exasperated groan left your lips, gaze now facing forward as you stared at the foggy mist that now started to descend on your way. Your back still aching even after a few days doesn't help, and the heavy rain patting your clothes, gradually soaking it certainly doesn't fucking help either.

God, a sick leave on Monday doesn't really sound like a happy-go-lucky choice, doesn't it? Sighing, you reach for your skirt pockets, rummaging through until you find the familiar device.

Immediately just as you take it out, it gets drenched.

Am I really going stupid?

You annoyingly frowned, slightly lowering your body to cover it from the rain as you frantically pressed the power button and—

Fucking voila! It's fucking dead! The bright 0% winking at you like a delicious fucking meal on the table!

For several fucking seconds, you frigidly stood there, hand loosely clutched around the jackshit motherfucking device, with your nervous system going haywire, and the absolute urge to snap your spine in half coursing through your body like blood flow.

Oh, and there's also the impending chill down there that holy fuck, you're going to get sick.

What a fuck-up day this is. All because of that damn Ass—

Okay, that's too unreasonable. You did choose this, after all.

Still. You shouldn't have fucking gone out. Hell, you should've listened to your grandmother.

A crackle above snaps you out of your thoughts, all suddenly aware of the fabric clinging to your skin with the coldest motherfucking sensation, and you shudder, pocketing your phone.

Right. Shelter.

–

After squeaky shoes, near-death instances (one of which being almost tripping over a damn dead toad in the middle of the street), and the occasional middle fingers from Mother Nature, you finally reached the bus stop. And as per usual, it's devoid of the crowd that used to piss you off when you were a kid.

Muscle movement from all over the years has you reaching out to the bench and lightly dusting it, only to realize what you were doing, deadpanned, then reluctantly sat at the wet bench. An embarrassing squeak of your shoes bringing heat to your cheeks.

Years ago, these roads, now looking as if they've been deserted, used to be the lone passageway to Qingce Village. A small, remote town near the Inazuma borders. However, because there were a shit ton of animals running around bare-assed (take the shitty toad as an example), the officials or whatever had to force the roads to shut down.

Now, it's officially been recognized as a restricted area.

Well, not really. Considering that some kids can still do shitty hide n’ seek once in a while, but it's often discouraged.

Well, fuck the discouragement, you can do whatever you want. Besides, it's not like the Liyue Qixing actually gives two fucks about it, especially now that Qingce village looks more like an abandoned town rather than an actual village.

Though, some tourists and occasional students seem to like the idea of abandoned places, so they’re often seen in the area doing whatever.

Your eye twitches when a drop falls just right in front of your nose, thoughts immediately halted. Fuck, should you really wait here for Scaramouche to show up? The biting cold fabric against your skin is really, really not comfortable. But in some way, it does kind of help with your back ache, so there's some benefits to that.

A shiver. Then, a sneeze.

Man.

You're so dead the moment you come back. You don't even know what time it is for fuck’s sake! But guessing from the time you left and the time you walked to get here, it must be around 4:35PM already. The rain is still moderately heavy, and the shitty roof, that's basically worn out rust, has holes in it, so it barely just does the job right.

The faint pattering of the rain against your shoulder feels soothing in some way, and the slight fog seems to disperse from all that shitty walk so now, the area is a bit visible.

And man, what a fucking calming shitshow. You ought to thank Scaramouche for this.

Wait, hold on, speaking of Scaramouche, hasn't it been at least an hour since you called him? And 3 miles is atleast..

You nervously chuckle, no way, right?

No way he reached the café while you were out here, shivering and dying from the rain, right?

It's been an hour. A full fucking hour!

No way. Yeah, nope. Nope. Nope, no, fucking nope.

There's just no way. You’ll see him in the street, wave him over, reprimand him until he stays, then force him to hang out to fulfill the request.

Yeah. Definitely.

And, anyway. What the hell was the Asshole up to? Out of nowhere, he just wants to.. quit?? What is up with that? You certainly know it's not about the environment, or anything. So, what the fuck was it? Not only that, he seemed casual about the ‘pushing’ incident too, so, really, what the fuck is he really up to—

A hand. A shadow of a hand creepily loomed over your form, creating a shadow just below your toes, and you jolted, heart suddenly skipping a few beats as you hastily turn around and holy shit—

“Scaramouche!?”

He carefully surveys you, the seconds feeling like an eternity as his hand idly floated mid-air, before he leered in disgust, “god, you look so fucking horrible right now.”

A dull ache throbbed in your temple, already feeling the Scaramouche-Induced-Migraine settling in the hypothalamus of your brain, “yeah, no shit. I look terrible, and ugly. Ever wondered why that is?”

Right now, the Asshole is clutching a beautiful, useful umbrella and there's a plastic bag hanging off of his forearm. A droplet falls right on top of your head, kindly reminding you once again of the beautiful, useful umbrella in his hold.

“Are you going to stop looking at my umbrella, or what? I'll share with you, don't worry.”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion, “you didn't bring an extra one?”

He rolled his eyes, turning to the side, then to you, “are you stupid? your granny chased me out of the café to ‘find’ you. what idiot even goes out in a weather like this?”

His head tilts slightly upward in gesture, while you spiralled down in the fact that, fuck yeah, I was right. He really did reach the café first.

“Well?”

“Got bored,” you easily lied, shrugging your shoulders for the extra effect, “I didn't think it'd rain this.. hard.”

“So, you really are stupid.”

"Shut up! I just got bored, okay?"

“Well, blah blah, anyway. Let's go back to the shitty café,” he turned sideways, reckoning you over with his head like you were some shitty dog.

It only struck you as your eyes drifted to his in pensiveness that—this was the first conversation you've ever had with him since Monday. And, he was going to leave. Just like that.

And, god. You've gone two years. Two years without talking to him except the occasional blistering arguments on social media that still pissed you off to this day. Hell, you even went on four days without having a proper conversation albeit the fact that you saw him everyday in that.

You've managed just fine. Felt no difference. Felt nothing.

But.. fuck?

Why does it feel different when he's talking to you, then?

Why the fucking motherfuck does your heart feel the fucking need to feel fucking restless to the fucking point of fucking beating so fucking loudly?

You suddenly, and viciously regretted locking gazes with him, considering how there was now a huge ass stretch in silence as you two stared each other down; the gaze neither intense nor did it ebb hatred.

Though, the way his eyes settled over to yours do feel like he's stripping you down from your skin to your heart, and oh fuck, don't tell me he can hear my heartbeat? holy fuck, this is embarrassing, what the fuck do I do? why is he staring at me like that? don't tell me I have a leaf over my head?? wait, hold on. should I break the stare or what? this is so fucking embarrassing—

An amused sound between a snort and a laugh. Presumably an involuntary one as he covers his mouth in reciprocated shock.

“What's so funny?”

An slight smirk creeps at his face “you're such a mumbler.”

A frown, “that's not even a word—”

“Are we going back to the café, or are you going to keep standing there like an idiot who just got dumped? Because you really look like you got stood up by a piece of shit right now.”

Okay. Calm. One, two, three..

You tried not to let the indignance take over your face as you held up a pseudo smile in agreement. Scaramouche eyed you for a moment, and then sighed before turning around.

There goes my plan in taking him to hang out. Maybe I'll ask him after school tomorr—

Wait. Hold on.

“Wait, uh. Do you—”

His feet halted, just right in the center of your vision and only then did you realize you were looking down like an idiot. God, this is so embarrassing.

You hesitantly looked up, confidently glared at him square in the eye (since glaring has always been your forte with him) and blurted, “hang out with me. like, right now.”

Silence. You can already feel the regret creeping in when all he does is fucking watch, and watch with those shitty fucking ass purple motherfucking eyes with the imperceptible fucking glint shining in them and—

“What on the fucking earth,” his expression was flat, but he did have that aghast-amused tilt to his eyebrows.

That's how you knew it was a success. All doubt and humility instantly drained out of you as you grinned, the mean and confident one that you knew made your features look devilish, “what? it's gonna be your last shift anyway, and I had to take a shift off—don’t give me that look and don't ask why—so, why not just hang out with me? I'm sure grandma would let you off.”

“O..kay?” he drawled in incredulity, a brow curiously quirking up as he turned to you fully, “so, what the fuck are we doing today, Dora the Explorer?”

“Uh, we could—erm,” you tried. you failed, “I don't know! I haven't thought that far!”

“Okay, jack-ass. We're going back to the café—”

“No!”

“And drink some shitty warm water—”

“Nope!”

“And—”

Before he could fucking finish because it really was starting to piss you off, you tore the beautiful, useful umbrella from his hold, stumbling him forward as you slowly took a step back.

You watched the realization slash amusement crawl over his pale features, twisting it up to a scowl, “give it back.”

A blink, then an idea came to you along with an impish grin, “well.. you'd just have to get it from me, then.”

And with that, you took off.

Scaramouche gaped at you, looking absolutely debauched as he realized what you were the fuck up to. And at that moment, you smiled.

You give it at least three counts.

One… his head swerves left and right.

Two… his gaze locked onto you.

Three… then, he made a break for it.

A wet ass road isn't really a good place to run a marathon in along with the (still) heavy rain blurring your vision as you dashed to who-the-fuck knows where, but right now?

As the cold nips against your skin like some sort of fucking leech and the Asshole few meters away from behind you chasing like a madman..

It feels like a whole otherworldly experience.

You'd never imagined running in the rain, soaked and absolutely feeling the impending doom already, with your rival, out of all people.

–

“You're a real fucking idiot, you know that, right?”

Okay. Maybe you are a fucking idiot by, what? Running into the rain with what you presume was one of the best experiences you've ever had but had the shittiest fucking consequences? Yeah.

Presently, the two of you are fortunately situated on a cliff with a bench. Totally I-Know-a-Spot vibes with an abandoned ass gasoline station just right off the side. Though, how did the two of you manage that? Well, your dumbass decided to run off the forest and somehow managed to end up here.

At some point during your whole life living in these parts, you've always seen the cliff in your peripherals but never had actually gone through the effort of going to it. So, yeah more or less, it's really your first time being here and, holy fuck is it divine.

The sun kissed the area with gold, blessing the two of you with the warmth it gives. The scenery is really the fucking catch though; with the sun infront of you, half of the village seen just below, café being literally quite just under the cliff and whatnot.

Oh, and yeah. The rain stopped mid-way as the two of you ran, so right now, you're currently dying with the left-over chill.

A shiver runs through your body, and you breathed out a sigh, “you enjoyed it, anyway. you can't really complain, you know?”

He glares at you, awfully looking like a stray hissing after being dumped with water, “fuck, no. I almost tripped twice. Heard that? Fucking twice, [Name]. That was not fun.”

As if he didn't stifle a laugh when you accidentally dropped the umbrella, “yeah, sure, Mr. Nonchalant. Also, I stepped on a dead toad on the way here, so.. again. you can't complain, I've had it worse.”

A roll of his eyes, and god, one more roll and I swear to the universe, I'm gonna make that permanent, “okay, piss grenade.”

“Piss—excuse me, what?”

“You know, explosive and lethal piss? Stuck in a grenade, and when you throw it, it becomes a piss shower?”

Silence.

“Yeah,” a scowl formed on your face as you conjured an image, “that's not really..”

He narrowed his eyes, “don't kinkshame me.”

“What—”

“So, when is the hang-out actually gonna start?” you can see the shiver creepily crawling over his body, and he tensed like a cat.

Ha, cat. Cat…

You awkwardly cleared your throat, murmuring, “I don't know.. actually. Wanna—uh. Wanna stay here and like, I don't know, watch the shitty sunset, or something?”

And again, his face comically deadpans. You can probably see the iconic SFX behind the background as he watches you with keen, fucking purple eyes.

“Is this really the same [Name] [Last Name] that told me to fuck myself on Monday?”

A snort escapes your lips as you nudge him by the ribs, “haha, very funny. Yes, I am, you asshole. God, you really do have a derogatory kink, don't you?”

His eyes glint in mischief, voice raising a playful lint, “oh, yeah? don't tell me you have a praise kink? Come on, don't get turned off, I'll praise you just fine.”

Your jaw gapes, like absolutely gapes and drops, before dramatically scooting further away from him, “yeah, no. I'd rather eat my own hand than have you praise me like that ever. Please stop the harassment.”

“Sure, fruitcake. And we're soaking up the entire bench, and it feels so fucking disgusting. When are we gonna get back?”

Oh. That's right.

“Are you…” you gulp, heart fucking doing somersaults, “are you actually going to resign?”

And at that—a glimmer in his eyes caught your attention as he turned to you; a permission to open up, to spill whatever bullshit he wanted, and you? Well, who are you to refuse?

“No,” he answers, “well, after today and that shitty run, I decided to shove the middle finger to my mom and maybe ask to postpone the offer.”

A hum left your lips, swaying your feet back and forth, “what’s the offer about anyway?”

“A modeling offer. I was given a chance to undergo some sort-of fuckin’ teaching class about modelling—which, I don't fucking want, by the fucking way. But. Ugh, my mom forced me. After that, I'll probably inherit her company or some shit.”

That doesn't really..

As if reading your mind, he continues, clutching the edge of the bench a little tighter, “and the reason why I don't want to take it is because it completely fucks up my schedule; after-school hours? fucked, cowgirl style. weekends? fucked, missionary style. Hell, even holidays? fucked, mating press style.”

He sharply chuckled as you gaped at him, and you mumbled, “your mom is too..”

“Selfish? Annoying? Fucking overbearing? Yeah,” he interrupted with a scoff, the sound laced with so much bitterness, “and anyway, I think I'll postpone it until I'm done with Senior High School. I have plenty of reasons anyway.”

You slowly blinked, still trying to process how.. weirdly dictatorial his mom was. You don't really give a fuck in that part of the industry, considering that you're way too focused on school to actually give a fuck about anything else other than being a barista (and speaking of school, fuck, you still had that physics assignment that's due by 11:59PM).

And, anyway. Holy fuck, you're absolutely going to have a hard time processing the fact that you just had your first ever official uninterrupted emotional conversation with Scaramouche. Or anything that involved non-rivalry things at all. The others are definitely going to have a field day with this and, ugghhh, you can already feel the undeniable burn in your eyes and the sting in your throat—

“Okay, thanks for listening,” he states dryly, eye-judging you as a droplet from his hair falls, “so awesome of you to go on a mumbling tirade while I was pouring my whole shitty sou—”

“Shut up, you asshole! Jeez, my grandma’s gonna kill me after this. I left without saying anything, I didn't even bring the umbrella she gave me! All because I chose to hang out with you, ugh."

“Aww, scared I'd be out of your sight, fruitcake? you must love me that much, huh.”

“No,” you bluntly say, “absolutely fucking not. Gross, by the way. I was just worried about you since we stopped talking for a week, and now you're dipping? no way, you're still my rival and I'm not letting you go until I see you in second place in the final rankings.”

He raised a brow, “we could still be—”

“Shut it.”

“..Okay, you sap.”

“Gross.”

And for the first fucking time ever, a comfortable silence settles in and goddamn, you missed the sunset. Slowly though as you watched from above, the blue-ish fog dissipated from the sky, leaving an endless sea of ink with dotted white.

And of course, as usual, the Asshole opens his gasbag mouth with his gaze transfixed on the skies above, “I really don't like stars.”

Just as you're about to retort, or atleast shove him to the sides and tease him, he continues, eyes still fixed to the sky but this time with a frown, “it looks so unreal, sometimes. Like, what the fuck do you mean those are just huge balls of hot gases winking at us like we're some useless specimen? I'm not useless, goddamnit.”

You blinked slowly, then levelled the Asshole with such a deadpanned look, “are you really saying that.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Of course, it would involve your ego. Of course. At this point, it's probably as big as the whole space.”

Scaramouche smugly smirked, “Yeah, ‘cause the fucking space is as big as my dic—”

“—Well, how else do you spend your time than just.. sit and not contemplate about life then?"

“..I don't fucken know? I don't spend my time looking at shit like this and going, “oh! I'm gonna think about my life and how utterly depressing it is!” like most people do. I just do whatever shit that is worth my time.”

You gave him a blank look, “so pessimistic. You must be so fun at parties. And, hey, we don't just immediately start thinking about life and all that. Sometimes, we just, you know, come here to relax.”

“If we're talking about that, then I’d rather look at city lights from above.”

A shrug, “guess that's more like you.”

He scoffed with a smirk, “makes me feel like I'm the star looking down in all those shitty specimens.”

“Ooh,” you cooed absentmindedly, “okay, city-boy.”

That familiar scowl settled in and you jolted, not expecting the nickname to hit a nerve, “oh, fuck off!”

A blink. Then, another blink before the drawl of the nickname left your lips with a higher lint, “city-boy!”

“One more and I swear—”

“City-boy!”

“Fuck—”

“City-boy likes to look at species below and—”

“Fuck the fucking hell off, you fucking mumbling gnome!”

You two didn't share a laugh that night, but you did continue the relentless teasing until, until he had to forcefully drag you down all the way back to the café at Eight-Something in the Post Meridian hours.

Needless to say, the lecture that came after was as warm and soothing as chocolate milk with cookies, after a whole evening of teetering between just outrightly dying of hypothermia, or having to go on because life still wants you in its grasp.

───────────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────────────────

|| previous episode - next episode. ||

───〃★tunes of your heartbeat masterlist

synopsis: in which your fate somehow gets entangled into a messy jumble between punk music in cozy cafés, intense rivalry, cherished yakults, parallelograms and quantum physics, competitions in contests and rainy days. or in other words; the universe seems to fucking hate your guts for whatever reason and decided to curse your love life with your awful crass emo twink-a-fuck rival. the question is; did the curse work?

taglist (50/50): @toekissers , @raineyun @localscarasimp , @potteraep , @shutingstar , @feiherp , @scaraenthusiast1 @dazqa , @wraithisd3adinside , @x-hihihi-x , @court-jester-stuff , @automaticpatroltragedy , @lalalaloveallmydays , @trulyylee , @jayzioxx , @featuredtofu @kazemiya @help-whatdoimakemyusername , @skyoverkill1 @phoenix-eclipses , @anqelkoz , @miyakomari @saechiro @franaby , @swivi , @vixialuvs , @heusalettle @kunikissr @yomishen @mywillt0live , @baldrapunzel @jiminscarmex @sushitushi, @liuaneee , @shynsgore , @mechanicalbeat1 , @marivaudages , @okukura , @azzumei @lucid1tty @iloveescara @usagiarchive @kyouzki @theunhingedmf @kangyeonie @mi2ukiss @bubblebellaz @eternallykira-143 @lumiicch

• featured song - into the night by benny mardones

• notes - i've been planning to use this exact song for this chapter for MONTHS like i swear it was one of the first ideas that came to me when i first started the drafr outline for this smau LIKE UGHHH

• "i'd take you into the night," [name] taking scara to the cliff

• "and show you a love like you've never, ever seen," [name] and scara hanging out there and talking about life and silly shit hajdnsjn

• "it's like having a dream," cue "You'd never imagined running in the rain, soaked and absolutely feeling the impending doom already, with your rival, out of all people." HELLO??? I COOKED CHAT I FUCKING COOKED

so yeah that shit above was what i wrote in the draft LMAO

authors' notes - hey freaks guess who's back😝 supposedly, i was gonna post this like two days ago but then BUT THEN a shitty migraine fucked me ten times over the course of two days leaving me absolutely dead ass on my bed so. yeah. and anyhoo, any comments about this is SO much appreciated considering i spent the last week making this while in writer slump (5,3k WORDS BABYYY) and holy shit chat??? we're 50-notes away from??? ONE THOUSAND??? WHATTTTTTTT that was so fugkcing fast HRLP ME thank you for all the support regardless tho😞

p.s - might update more now since WOOHOO SUMMER BREAK IS FINALLY FUCKING HERE

(ask to be added or removed)

[r0-boat]

Feast fit for a king(s)

Whb!Beelzebub x Gn!reader x Bael

Cw: double penetration, over stimulation, mentions of Beel x Bael.

Sorry for the silence for a couple of days This is what I was working on! Aaaa

You're supposed to be in Abyssos for sightseeing however Beelzebub had other things in mind for you. At a 5 Star hotel in Abyssos famous for luxurious exciting fun and sexual themes It was a hotspot for lovers too 'rest and relax' well they have a little fun whether it be in bed or down at the lobby to gamble, play games and drink till their hearts content.

You were in bed in the nicest suite Beelzebub has gotten, naked as the day you were born Your body sore from the amount of bite marks and bruises Your legs even more so. And there he was the man who did this to you laying in bed smoking a cigarette. It was almost comical how full of energy he was. Hugging into your soft pillow you glanced at him as he reached for a pamphlet with the menu of the food That can be brought up to the room. You would hate that man if he wasn't so darn cute.

Just then the hotel door burst open, guessing that Beel forgot to lock the door You scramble to cover your body while Beelzebub didn't bother He smiled "Bael! What a pleasant surprise!"

There he was the fake king and advisor for Abyssos He was pissed off and exhausted from trying to locate Beel whereabouts he finally got a lead on this location.

"YOU!" He yelled pointing at the king who was now standing out of bed naked with a cat like smirk holding up his hands as he was caught red-handed, looks like he wasn't going to escape this time... "I'VE BEEN LOOKING-" He choked on his words when he saw you peeking out of the blanket your bare chest barely visible. "!! You-! Oh dear I'm-" finally his brain connected the dots both you and his king are naked in bed together He flushed red tearing his eyes away from you. Looking at the scene of his dear friend and normally straight lace subordinate fall apart at the mere sight of your naked body an idea came into his mind.

He knew just how big Bael crush on you was, all demons in Abyssos wanted you but Bael... He had it bad. And what kind of friend would he be if he didn't give him a little 'push'

"come now my dear brother." He said in a sing-song tone a tone that made Bael narrow his eyes. "You didn't miss anything, why don't you come join us?"

Your eyes widen at his suggestion, after he just drilled you into the mattress?!

"Beelzebub!" You silently shrieked to get his attention. You don't even think you could even walk right now how the fuck can you take more?!

But your protest came on deaf ears.

"relax delicious it's not for me" He crawls onto the bed removing the sheets from your hands, he grabs you by the waist lifting you up pressing your back against his chest.

His hands slide under to play with your now naked parts your body still sensitive from your previous actions.

Beelzebub was masturbating you in front of Bael! Bael's looked hesitant but his eyes were trained on you. Bael looked just as hungry as the king of gluttony touching you, Your legs shook threatening to close but he held them still. You wanted to protest, but Beelzebub's skilled fingers was making your mind melt.

"come on, Bael. You must be tired. You came all this way here. Why don't you 'rest'?" His words husky, thick, and smooth like molasses as his fingers continue to play with you, slowly stroking every part of you, occasionally pressing into your hole to tease Bael. Your cute little whimpers as you were too sensitive and tired to hold them back. You can tell the teasing was working, seeing the tight bulge in Bael's pants.

Bael gave in. Demons cannot resist temptation after all; his eyes half, half-lit and full of lust, made your heart leap out of your stomach as he slowly stalked closer to you. Bael took over as Beel stopped touching you. Bael's hands replaced his; his breath was shaky as he lay down to kiss you. His kiss was messy and full of desire, kissing you more and more feverishly as he began ripping off his own clothes, no longer caring about what he was supposed to be doing before; all that mattered was having you right here, right now.

Beel not wanting to be left out on all the fun lean down and kissed your neck. Now with two hands on either side of your legs he holds you open for Bael to lower his head down.

You are falling apart in their arms, Your whole body shuttered, whimpering and moaning as you felt Bael tongue against your hole.

Beel smiled, moving his hands to spread you further apart for his friend to 'eat' you.

One taste, and he was addicted, pressing his entire face against you, eager to tongue fuck you.

"taste good, right?" Beel said Bael could only moan in agreement, not wanting apart from you for even a second.

You thought just Beelzebub's tongue was long. You threw your head back as you felt Bael's tongue begin to worm inside you, long and flexible as it was eager to go deeper.

As if Beelzebub read your mind his voice tickled your ear.

"All demons in Abyssos have long tongues, Long tongues means more to taste."

You came. Bucking your hips against Bael's face as you grab onto his 'crown.' His eyes rolled back as you come on his tongue; it's been so long since he had tasted cum; it's been so long since he had been touched. He couldn't help but cum with you, his horn squirting all over your hand and his cock emptying all over the sheets.

Beel, who had been watching, finally had enough. His cock was twitching against your back, and he needed you. Beelzebub quickly overwhelmed you, not giving you a mere moment of rest before easing his cock inside you. Beel looked over at a cum soaked Bael with a sly smile.

Bael know exactly what he wants.

Bael climbed on top of you, his lips claiming yours once again. You didn't even know what was about to happen to you until you felt his dick press against Beel's and your already stuffed entrance.

"W-wait! Wait! So full! It can't fit!"

You panic trying and failing to form sentences correctly with cock already inside you.

Bael having only one thing on his mind, to be inside of you, couldn't even hear you. As Beel was whispering, "Aww, come on, of course, you can take it. You've been so good taking me. You can have one more cock."

Beel once again used his fingers to stretch you open, helping his best friend ease it inside you.

Beel felt Bael's cock against him, a feeling he hadn't felt in such a long time; his eyes rolled back, trying to hold back from bucking inside you.

How long has it been since Bael had been inside someone? He had forgotten what it felt like for someone to squeeze and milk cock. And now he was filling you up almost completely with His best friend's dick also inside you...

Bael's final threat of self-control, if it wasn't broken, already shattered. Grabbing your hips, he rammed into you. All the stress from paperwork, his carnal feelings about you that he kept so desperately deep inside, and the greedy loss he had to control in favor of running a country finally came to the surface. As he fucked you and Beelzebub, until whimpering moaning mess.

Even Beel could not keep up with his friend. His hands were shaking, his nails digging into your ass as he tried to gain any speed other than pathetically humping, humping, and grinding hard and deep.

Bael has folded you in half, your legs over his shoulders, trying to keep them apart as they threaten to squeeze his head. Your toes curling, you try to move, squirm, buck, and do anything. But you are being held in place, by two men. Sandwiched by two demons, getting treated as nothing more than a sex toy for these two demons.

You already knew what it takes to satisfy Beelzebub now that you have two demons with a voracious sexual appetite. You had no idea how long you would be in this bed.

[shoopsthereitis]

jegulus | 1k words

lil jegulus I wrote for a secret santa for a dear friend. sirius finding out about jegulus at hogwarts

“James, no,” Regulus insists, pressing a hand to James’ chest in the corridor.

“Come on, Reg, please? No one’s around. It’s late, and I haven’t seen you in days.” James knows he’s being reckless, but he can’t help it. He didn’t mean to run into Regulus, but when he spotted him during his Prefect rounds, he couldn’t resist catching up, feeling drawn to him like a magnet. He’s missed him more than he probably should admit—more than what’s acceptable for two people who’ve been secretly dating for four months.

It all started by accident. A few months ago, James found himself in the library needing to study, but it was surprisingly crowded for a Thursday. He wandered around, searching for a place to sit, and the only available seat was at a table with Regulus. Reluctantly, Regulus let him join, and by the end of the night, James was completely smitten. After that, hallway run-ins where James would change course just to walk Regulus to class, and Quidditch changing room chats became weekly occurrences, and it all fell together naturally. Neither of them had expected to fall for the other, so they’ve been taking it slow. 

Now, four months later, they’re still together, and James couldn’t be happier. But with how protective Sirius is of his brother, Regulus has insisted they keep the whole thing a secret. James gets it, but part of him hates lying to his best friend. He’s been trying to convince Regulus that they should tell him now that they’re serious. Thankfully, Regulus is warming to the idea.

“We could go back to my dorm? I think Remus, Sirius, and Pete are at the library,” James offers.

“After the other day when I was trapped in your room under the invisibility cloak, I don’t want to take any chances. I missed Potions because of that, and Sirius nearly caught us.” 

“But he didn’t,” James grins. Regulus rolls his eyes, the way James loves because he only does it when he has no snarky comment to say back.

“Anyone could find us here, we’re not exactly hidden.” Regulus’ body betrays his words when he steps closer to James, his hands reaching out for his robes. James instinctively brings him in, pulling their bodies flush. 

Running a hand through the soft strands of Regulus’ curls, he tips his head back, their eyes meeting. “Regulus,” James starts, feeling completely lost in his storm grey eyes, “I really want to kiss you. Can I kiss you?”

There’s a war going on behind Regulus’ eyes, weighing his options, debating the risks. Ultimately, he gives in, sending James a small nod before leaning up. The moment their lips touch, the rest of the world falls away. There’s only thoughts of RegulusRegulusRegulus.

This is what always happens with the two of them. They get utterly sucked into each other’s orbit, and are unable to notice anything else. Even the other day in James’ dorm, they were much too close to getting caught, not realising the door had clicked open until they heard Sirius and Peter’s voices. Regulus practically rolled off the bed, and James had to cough and stomp his foot to cover the thud of Regulus’ body hitting  the floor as he covered himself with the cloak.

“James, I missed you,” Regulus whispers against his lips, and it makes James' heart sing. It always takes a few minutes for Regulus’ walls to come down, but when they do, when he gets soft and open with how he feels—there’s nothing like it.

Heart fluttering from Regulus’ words and his body lit up from Regulus’ touch, James stops worrying about where they are. Unfortunately, he probably should start paying more attention.

“What in Merlin’s name is this?”

They pull apart, James whirling around to find Sirius. His arms are crossed, a scowl on his face, and he looks pissed. James has half a mind to run, but that thought fades when he turns and sees Regulus, whose expression mirrors Sirius'—scowl and everything.

“What does it look like, Sirius? I’m kissing James,” Regulus says dryly. 

“I can see that, Regulus. What I’m confused about is why it doesn’t look to me like a first kiss,” Sirius responds. 

James’ palms start to sweat. If there’s one place you don’t want to be, it’s in the middle of a fight between the Black Brothers. “Sirius, we were going to tell you—”

“Tell me what? That you’ve been kissing my brother? Cus it sure doesn’t seem like you were going to tell me.”

“I—we—the thing is—” James is floundering. He knows it, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

“We’ve been seeing each other for four months. We weren’t going to tell you unless it became something worth telling. Which it has, so surprise! James and I are dating.”

Heart flooding with warmth, James can’t help but look at Regulus, likely with a dopey look on his face. Regulus’ lips twitch quickly when his eyes shift sidelong to James.

“Please don’t be mad, Sirius. I really like him. I wanted to tell you, I swear—”

“Prongs, relax.” Sirius’ expression softens into a small smile as he steps forward, placing his hands on James’ shoulders. “I’ve had a hunch about you two for a while. The way you look at each other? It’s not hard to figure out. Also, you’re not as sneaky as you think. I knew Regulus was in the dorm the other day, why do you think I droned on about nothing for an hour?” Sirius grins. “Honestly, I’m ecstatic. My best friend and my brother? How could it get better? Just don’t hurt each other, and I’m all for it.”

Shocked, James looks back at Regulus before his head turns towards Sirius, a wide smile on his face. 

“You’re really fine with this?” Regulus asks.

“I’m fine with it. I’d just prefer not to see it. And don’t ever lie to me again, James.”

James smiles. “Wouldn’t think of it.How did you even end up over here, anyway? This isn’t on the way back to the dorm.”

Sirius pulls the map from his pocket, waving it in the air. “Next time you try to hide something from me, maybe don’t forget we have a map that shows us where everyone in the castle is.” His lips curl into a mischievous smirk and James laughs.

“You have a map that shows you where everyone is in the castle?” Regulus blurts out in disbelief.

Whipping their heads toward him, Sirius and James share a sidelong glance.

“Shit,” they say in unison.

[silvermarley]

i know its a tad weird, but... do you think muzan would be ok with period sex? its technically free blood... and reader wont have cramps during it

You’re all good! I mean demon + free blood?? Sorry it’s super late 🙏🏻

Period Sex

Muzan x Reader

Warnings: blood obv, a bit rough?, cunnilingus, fem! body parts, minor degradation, established relationship, unprotected sex

WC: 2.1k

Demons have an unquenchable thirst for blood. They typically don’t care about their human victims, as they’re only a mere blood bank to them. The same is said about the infamous and overwhelmingly powerful king of all demons, Muzan Kibutsuji.

But, he has a unique situation that has taken hold of him for the past few days. You see, he’s not ignorant of the human body, but there’s something he didn’t know about. Mortal women bleed once a month, as their bodies ready themselves for eventual pregnancy.

Muzan’s situation is unique because of his lover. A human woman, one which he couldn’t kill. One that he found himself seeking out, and the person who makes his cold heart(s) beat. It was obvious that since he was a demon, he would seek out any blood he can get. You knew that. So when it was your time of the month, you would make up some excuse to be left alone for the duration of your period. That was your plan every month.

Eventually, the demon king saw the pattern in the times you would ask to be alone. It made his teeth clench just thinking about why that would be. You were a loyal partner, of course, but that fact didn’t come up in his mind when it would start to go over reasons as to why he had to go days, if not a week without you. Who would dare to impose on my relationship, he thought. You were his. He has the right to be with you everyday, so why? Why must you insist on taking.. vacations, as he called it, so often?

For the time away, you would suffer through your period. The cramps, bleeding, and aches.. all of it. Not only were you unsure of what Muzan would do if he knew about this, but you also didn’t want to bother him with your vulnerable and emotional side. In the end, he’s a man-eating demon. It had been long enough for you to understand that he wouldn’t dream of killing you, no matter how angry he felt. But just the thought of him knowing about your period was quite frightening.

Muzan isn’t a very patient man, unfortunately. He wanted to know why you kept leaving and distancing every time. Why you were keeping something from him.

You had your own room, and you didn’t really use it until the time came. You much preferred to spend your nights with him. But in this case, it wasn’t possible.

He knew where you went monthly, considering nothing in the infinity castle gets past him. And now, he was heading there in search for answers. As he got closer to the room, he caught the scent of blood. Your blood?

In a matter of seconds after his keen sense of smell caught that scent, he was sliding open the door to your room. You jumped upon seeing him, not know what to do now that he was here.

“Are you injured?” He asked after a pause. His eyes glowed at the smell, even in the dimly lit space.

His eyes scanned over your form, covered in a blanket and your face, showing many emotions. Confusion, fear, and above all pain. Not pain from any injury, like he was thinking. At your silence, he was about to seethe in anger at who would be brainless enough to lay a hand on you. Until you spoke up.

“No..” your voice was slightly shaky. You had no idea how he would react if you told him about your dilemma.

Heavy footsteps are heard as he walks over to you. “Then?” His arms cross skeptically. “What aren’t you telling me, Y/N?” Muzan’s voice was firm, yet you could tell this was his way of checking on you.

You sigh. This was inevitable. You couldn’t hide this for all eternity, anyways. “I’m not hurt.. I’m on my period.”

His eyebrows furrow curiously. Right.. he likely didn’t know that about you.

“Every month, I..” you calm yourself, only stopping your words to whince at the pain in your stomach. “..bleed. It’s something women go through.”

“Every month..? How come I smell your blood, but i have yet to see it?” He kneels by you to inspect your body. Most of which was still covered.

He wasn’t reacting badly so far, which came as a surprise. Turns out his restraint is much better than you thought. Now, it was just embarrassing to explain it.

“Because I bleed from down there..” you began to mumble, face heating up slightly at how you couldn’t bring yourself to say the actual thing you’re referring to.

His ruby colored eyes glowed once more, this time for a different reason. Before you could protest, he lifted the blanket from your body to see your bloodied lower region. He couldn’t stop the groan leaving his chest as the scent got more prominent. You noticed his grip on the blanket tightened.

“And you thought to hide this from me?” His gaze then returns to your face.

You nod hesitantly. “It’s just.. I didn’t know how you would react. And I didn’t want you to deal with it..”

“Deal with the blood?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Do you know who I am? What I am?” You felt a cold finger trail from your jaw to your collarbone.

“I-I know.. but the blood isn’t all of it. It also causes stomach cramps and mood swings.” You stutter, yet you felt little to no fear right now due to the look in his eyes. It wasn’t of murderous intent.

His hand trails down further to your stomach and he rests it there. “..Is it hurting now?” He questions, and when you nod again, he inquires more about it. He inhales. “It’s hard to resist the scent of your blood. Especially after hearing where it’s coming from..”

Warmth spread across your cheeks at the comment. You didn’t know where he was going with this.

“I think I know how to assist you with the pain.” This would be a sweet thing to hear, if it weren’t for the sinister smirk on his face.

He begins pushing the blanket completely off your body. After it was successfully moved to the side, he took in the view. He was getting hungrier by the minute. Drool fell from his lips a little at the sight. He needed to taste it. And he wasn’t one to play with his meals.

Muzan pulls down your shorts, tossing it aside to see the mess that is your panties. He groaned again, unable to stop himself from licking a stripe on your clothed core, tasting your sweet blood through the fabric. You gasped, feeling much more sensitive than normal, but also hot due to his boldness.

He rips your sad excuse for underwear and dove right into what he’s been craving ever since he smelled your sweet blood. He’s no stranger to pleasuring you with only his tongue. But god, this felt so good. So different. Like he was trying to devour you whole. Like he’s parched and the only thing that can quench it is the mess between your thighs.

The demon’s tongue moved languidly at first, to savor the taste of both your arousal and the tempting red liquid. But the muscle moved quicker with time, desperately needing to taste all of you. You writhed and grabbed onto the only thing keeping your mind in reality, his wild and now unkempt black locks.

Your needy tugs to his hair only made his movements more determined. The heat in your lower stomach was rising at a rapid pace not even you could keep up with. The area that was previously aching with pain was now flooding with pleasure. Muzan’s nails dug into your upper thighs as he feasted on everything you were giving him. The pain shouldn’t have felt so good, but with the drag of his demonic tongue, god it did.

Your orgasm hit you like a flash, as your arched into his head and stuttered his name loudly. The growl he let out was low and heavy. He licked up your mixed juices while you twitched and shook.

He then lifted himself from you. His pupils were blown wide and his lower face was messy. “Divine, just as I thought.” He murmurs, “Your essence is sweet, and mixed with your blood..” he takes in a breath, and trails off.

You caught your breath, which was knocked out of you for a moment. Before you had time to respond, he’s making his next move. You glanced down as he sat up, noticing his prominent erection in his dress pants. It made you wonder how it would feel inside you now that you were on your cycle. You were sensitive already, but this time it was enhanced surely.

His sharp teeth nearly shined as he grinned darkly at you. “Your blood is irresistible.. and I can’t wait to see such delectable essence on my cock.”

His grin widens a bit more at seeing the you bite your lip with replenished need. You two have been intimate many times before, but this felt like so much more. With this, he could have claim every part of you, in your weakest state. In your most vulnerable time. And that thought alone has been driving him wild since he tasted you.

You barely even noticed when he took off his pants and vest, leaving his formal shirt slightly unbuttoned as he was too desperate to be inside you. Having said that, you also failed to notice when he was now hovering over you and positioning himself at your entrance. You feel his warm breath on your neck as he carefully plunged in. There was a mutual groan shared as he pushes in, inch by inch.

The mix of slick and blood made it easier to stuff you full of his cock. When he bottomed out, he couldn’t resist biting your shoulder. You whined from both pain and pleasure, as he laps up more of your sweetness. The taste of it on his tongue caused him to begin thrusting. “Always such a good little human, hm?” He rasps.

You let out a strangled moan at the sheer power of his thrusts in an attempt at a response. Your mind couldn’t even think about the pain in your abdomen with how good he was making you feel. His head pulls back to watch your lewd expressions. It was always his favorite. Just seeing how much of a mess he can make of you gets him going.

Even as such an individual as mighty as Muzan, he still falls into the irresistible pleasure he gets from you. The feelings he once was unfamiliar with, came easily when he met you.

His nails dig into your hips this time as with each thrust he pulls you to him, only increasing how deep he hit. Your whines echoed off the walls of your room, mixing with the slaps of skin. A faint but audible set of groans and grunts can also be heard from the man above you. Only you could drag these uncontrollable noises from the king himself.

The demon threw his head back, gripping under your thighs to bring them to your chest. That served to make him go even deeper than you thought possible. Your body was trembling under him, and the feeling of getting close came creeping up on you. The tightening of your pussy made his noises turn into something more animalistic. “Make a beautiful mess on my cock. I know you want to.” He coos breathily, his alluring eyes staring at your face.

And you were more than happy to follow as he said. Body twitching and ecstasy taking over, you came hard. Your mind was effectively taken over by the intensity of it all. A deep growl came out of his mouth as you convulsed and nearly milked him for all he’s worth. He felt close, and quicker than normal. The circumstances played a big part in speeding up his gratification in indulging in you.

You could barely keep your eyes open as he relentlessly thrusted, overstimulation making you shake pathetically. He reveled in your form and the sensation. After a few more harsh thrusts, he gives a final one that fills you with his cum. “That’s it,” he moans huskily, “Take it all..”

When he spilled all he could into you, he pulled out and let his dick lay on your stomach. He looked down at the fluids connecting it to your messy cunt. A sight he could get used to.

Though, he’s no weak man by any means. It wasn’t long before his stamina allowed him to become hard again. A desire-filled smirk was plastered on his face. “You should know that I am far from done.”

As his lover, you definitely knew that. But as a human, you weren’t sure how far he would take it this time. The king wasn’t going to give you time to think about that, however.

——

[weclassygirl]

bewitched

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: years of hidden yearning and need and a night to remember

warnings: smut (fingering, semi public) light choking, slight voyeurism kink, exhibitionism

word count: 2,2k

author’s note: had to add it in before a real work begins (my first smut so...). they needed it for sure or they would have done it in front of Celebrimbor once they couldn't take the tension anymore. enjoy! (previous part -> scheme)

It was rare to see him like that, in his element, focused only on his work. You found yourself captivated how he moves around the workshop, how Celebrimbor valued his work. The forge worked day and night, trying to work with mithril, each smith has made their suggestion, offered every metal known to the peoples of Middle-Earth and yet none of them wished to connect with the stone.

They work for weeks, an attempt is made at stretching out mithril but with no desired result. A crown for the High King became a task kindred to that of creation of the Silmarils. You’ve worked nearly without rest, aiding in empowering the precious metal, Celebrimbor notices your vigor and the way Halbrand moved with ease around you, like two flames lit up to reach the same purpose. He would propose any idea his mind came up with to Celebrimbor and then to you, always to you. 

The Lord of Eregion found it unusual how quickly the two of you made connection, after all these years you’ve opened up to someone and he wasn’t even an Elf. He did not interfere in this, you seemed to work better because of Halbrand, even if it was possible. 

He came to you each night, overseeing your progress in your craft closely, being in a physical form made the contact easier. You couldn’t be by his side all the time, people would have noticed, he found moments he could talk with you, not about his plans or your craft. A simple conversation shared by two people with the same ambitions.

You’ve known him for years and yet he came up with ways to surprise you. You were glad he was in Eregion, not the shadow in your mind, you felt yourself drawn to him and he to you. Like, call to like.

His enthusiasm for work showed, a bit too much for your liking sometimes. You’ve seen Galadriel sneaking around Eregion, conversing with the librarians, which made you uneasy. 

Something was wrong.

You saw him by the pond, a long day of work visible in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Only a dim light illuminated him but you could still see his brow adorned by dust and shards of metal and you wondered how long he would look like this. A mortal man, handsome in his own right, who wouldn’t fall for his charm? 

The feeling in your gut lingered, his identity was bound to be discovered. He knew you worried and assured you that he had a plan.

“And what if it fails?” you ask as you come down the steps. Many would have stopped being his collaborator, but not you, not when you’ve been by his side for so many years, whether at first you hated the very thought.

“Do you truly think so little of me?” he counters.

You huff, this man… “I think that it is a risk, staying here longer than you need to. This…” you gesture toward his appearance “will not fool everyone. They will notice.”

He steps closer and places his fingers under your chin, he likes to see you try and tear your sight away from his. He knows that you’re not the one to walk away from a challenge.

“With time, they will see and believe whatever I want them to.” he pulls away but the feeling of his fingers lingers.

“How long do you plan to retain this form?” you ask. He tilts his head and looks down at his clothes and hands.

“Is it not to your liking?” 

“I didn’t say that.” you tease. You look over the trees to the towers. “Eregion is the realm of the Elven smiths not men. You're a King, they’d expect you to be with your people.” he takes your hand, the illusion from it lifted in the comfort of his presence. He traces the scar absentmindedly.

“And would my queen join me?”

Queen… He never called you that before. “We’re not bound.” you remind him.

“And yet the idea entices you, after all these years.” he lets go of your hand and places his on your shoulder. “Shame to let it go to waste.” 

“Why not have it all for yourself?” you ask genuinely. He could have it all, Middle-Earth, all of the races under his rule. His hand snakes up to your cheek, making you look up at him again.

“I’ll burden myself with the crown and let you cherish in the light of it. No one to command or put you through suffering again.” 

“On my deathbed.” you whisper as he leans closer, his breath on your neck making you shiver. 

“I’d prefer little death slipping from your mouth.” 

Despite your defiance, you lean into his touch as his lips place kisses on your neck and for a moment you believe it to be an illusion, another vision conjured up by him, far away from your reach. He reminds you of the realness of this moment when his hand cups your jaw and closes the distance between you. 

You’d make a fool of yourself if you pushed him away, especially when he’s been on your mind for so many years. He would have reveled if he knew the many sleepless nights you’ve spent trying to get rid of the revenant feeling of his touch. How with every disappearance from your chambers you longed for nothing more than to ask him, beg him to stay. Perhaps he knew with how he looked at you right now, eyes dark with desire, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss. 

You push him back onto the stone bench, his hands wander to pick up as much fabric as they can when you straddle him. He grabs the back of your neck to crash your lips onto his, you bite at his lips, wanting more and accidentally draw blood. He pulls away and swipes his thumb over the cut, black blood spreading over his lip. He looks up at you and brings the thumb to your lips, he brushes against them once until you open your mouth and lick away the blood from his finger. The sight would have sent him to the Undying Lands that very moment, but he couldn’t part just yet until he had his fill of you. 

His hands slither under your dress, his touch like fire lingering on your skin. Carved by Morgoth and worshipped at Sauron’s hands. He takes your hand in his and kisses each darkened finger, his lips linger on the scarred one. 

“I take it it’s to your liking then.” he teases and you grab his jaw, his stubble softly digging into your skin.

“Your shadowed form was quite pleasing as well.” you retort and kiss him once more. You’d let him swallow you whole, let him corrupt you even further just to have him near you. 

He hand slips between you two and dips into you, the intrusion welcomed as you draw a breath between your lips. The bundle of nerves that ached for him, falls apart at the simplest touch. Your head tilts back as he withdraws his fingers only to push them back in, his rhythm increasing slowly, he would not have you out of his grip yet. 

Your cunt clenches around him when he adds another finger and Sauron grabs at your throat, putting the smallest pressure that could bring you to the edge. He chuckles as he watches you, his lips kiss up your throat.

“So willing.” he taunts and you return from your bliss state at his words. Your hand sneaks under his robe to return the favor, he groans as you grab his cock, your hand moving in time with his fingers deep in your cunt. 

There’s a wicked smile tugging at your lips and he wishes nothing more to let you have your way with him. He knows he’s done for as he takes your appearance, breathless and wanton. 

A witch that bewitched his body and soul. 

You gasp when he pushes away the fabric covering your breasts, his mouth dives to devour. Black Speech slips from your mouth when he pulls at your nipple and oh, how cherishes the sound. He taught you it, even if you picked it up from the Orcs guarding your cell in Forodwaith. 

“Fuck.” you breathe out as his hand picks up its pace and another tugs at your nipples. You moan against his neck when your hand on his cock begins to falter, to blissed out to form a coherent sentence. You kiss up his neck and move to brush your lips against his. 

The night settles over Eregion and he wishes to stay in this moment, create an illusion of the two of you to roam and work in Eregion while he fucks you endlessly in your chambers. Your mind drifts again but is snapped to reality when the two of you hear people approaching. You pull away but his fingers stay inside you, his pace dying down but not fully.

“Mairon.” you warn him and a corner of his lips lifts up. 

You never called him Sauron, the Abhorred, and he was grateful.

The chatter grows and you feel a soft wind around you, Sauron’s hand continues its ministrations. You realize he’s cast an illusion over the two of you. To anyone looking it would appear as if the two of you were having a simple conversation on the bench. Any wiser would see a scandalous scene and you wish you could see their reaction. 

You recognize them, the smiths you worked closely over the years, they call out your name. “Still awake?”

You nearly curse Sauron when he adds another finger. You try your best to respond under the illusion. “Yes.” 

“Discussing new ideas.” he adds and flicks over your bud with his thumb. You nearly smack him but the pleasure is too great for you to care. 

You’re too far gone to continue the meaningless conversation, Sauron takes over your voice until the smiths leave. Your hand squeezes him ever slightly, moving faster with each stroke and he grabs your hair. 

“Careful, witch.” his threat is interrupted by the moan that follows. You smile mischievously, oh how you could just stop the time to feel him bring you to your pleasure over and over again. 

“Would you let them see?” you question against his lips. You on display as he laps at your folds and sets a relentless pace with his cock buried deep inside you. Doing whatever he pleases with you, whatever you wish to do with him.

His pace quickens and you spiral close to your release. His breathing becomes labored with each pump of your hand. 

“I would make them wish they were you.” his words set you ablaze as you spill around his fingers. You moan into his mouth, body shuddering with release and he does not let go until your body completely gives out. Your head falls into the crook of his neck when his fingers leave you and immediately miss the feeling. 

He brings up his fingers to your mouth and lets you taste yourself from them. You lick them clean like a starved woman and the sight arouses him even more, his cock straining against his robes again. He licks up your hand, swallowing every last drop, truly worthy of each other.

He lifts you up from him and kneels before you, you arch your eyebrow when he lifts your dress once more. His tongue darts out to clean every drop that has not coated his fingers, the heat pools inside you as he slowly laps at your folds. You arch your back, in too fucked state to form a coherent sentence. His hands travel back to your breasts and you whimper in pleasure.

You feel your second orgasm coming in waves and he lets you ride it out on his face, gladly cleaning you up again. His moans reverberate against you, Black Speech on his tongue as he praises you. You look down at him as he comes up, your need for him still growing but you hold yourself back, you’ll have him completely another day. 

There’s no turning back now.

He kisses your neck, jaw, cheek and finally lips. Your tongue makes its way into his mouth, his passion burning brighter with each touch. Years you’ve longed for this and won’t feel satisfied until you have him all.

“Bind yourself to me.” he whispers against your lips and you consider this time. He brushes away strands of your hair and you melt into his touch when it lands on your cheek. 

“Not yet.” you respond, the words he so often spoke to you when the matter was brought up. You knew that if you did and he was no longer within your reach you would have gone mad. He would have loved to see the havoc you would wreak in his name.

You lean closer to him as he kneels before you. Your hand cups his jaw before pulling it to you. Your words a threat and a promise.

“Make sure your path to glory doesn’t lead to a grave and I will.”

He smiles. 

You were perfect.

next part --> wonders

[passengerprincessblog]

“Off Track” ~ Pt 7 Franco x reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, angst, cheating, arguments.

Summary: In the glitz and glamour of Vegas, Y/N’s carefully balanced secrets come crashing down when Lewis confronts her, forcing her to face the consequences of her betrayal.

The restaurant was stunning, even by Vegas standards—dimly lit with sparkling chandeliers that looked like they were dripping with diamonds. Everything about it screamed exclusivity, from the pristine table settings to the whispered voices of waiters who moved gracefully between tables. I sat across from Lewis, dressed impeccably as always, his sleek black suit practically gleaming under the soft light. He looked like he belonged here, a man who could command any room, any conversation, without even trying.

Me? I felt like a fraud, like I was sitting under a spotlight that only I could see, the guilt simmering in my chest. My heart pounded as I stared down at my phone, scrolling through Twitter, where the screenshot of Franco’s liked tweet had gone viral.

The tweet: “Y/N is so pretty, Lewis can you fight?!.”

The like: Franco Colapinto.

The internet had exploded. Fans speculated wildly—some thought it was cute, others joked that Franco was crushing on me. A few even suggested something more, which only made my stomach churn harder. I’d been avoiding Franco’s texts for days, but now this was out there for everyone to see. It was impossible to ignore. And worst of all, I had no idea if Lewis had seen it.

I scrolled a little further, skimming through comments. “Franco’s brave lol.”

“Y/N and Franco would make a cute couple though…”

“Lewis has some competition 👀.”

My phone slipped slightly in my hand, and I quickly locked the screen, placing it face-down on the table. My pulse quickened as I looked up, meeting Lewis’s gaze. He was studying me, one eyebrow raised in that way he always did when he was suspicious.

“You good?” he asked, setting his fork down and crossing his arms. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. “You didn’t eat much.”

My face flushed, and I felt like I was on the verge of breaking into a sweat. Did he know? Was he just waiting to bring it up? I forced myself to smile, desperate to keep my cool. “Oh… no, I mean yes. I’m fine. It’s just… the food’s not that good.” The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.

Lewis didn’t react, but his eyes narrowed slightly, studying me. He wasn’t buying it. “Okay,” he said slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Well, you need to eat something.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already waving down the waiter. “Yes, sir?” the man asked, his tone polite and professional.

“Would you mind taking this back? And she’ll have the cappelletti,” Lewis said smoothly, gesturing to my untouched plate. The waiter nodded and whisked the plate away.

I rolled my eyes, annoyed and stressed, and it all came out directed at him. “I didn’t need a whole other plate of food, Lewis,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended.

He didn’t flinch, his calm demeanor irritating me further. “Well, just have some of it,” he replied softly, reaching across the table to take my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, a gesture that usually calmed me but now made my stomach twist with guilt. “What’s wrong? You’re acting all jumpy.”

I shrugged, trying to play it off. “I guess I just had too much caffeine today.” I offered a weak laugh, hoping it would lighten the mood. To my relief, he smiled, but it didn’t feel entirely genuine.

“Mhmm,” he said, sitting back in his chair and letting go of my hand. He crossed his arms again, his expression unreadable. Then, casually, he added, “I saw something funny today.”

My heart stopped. “What was it?” I asked, my voice barely steady.

He paused, letting the silence hang for just a second too long. “It was about you,” he said, his tone light, almost teasing. “And Franco.”

My stomach flipped, heat rushing to my face. I forced myself to look at him, feigning confusion. “Hm? Me and Franco?”

“Yes. You. And Franco,” he repeated, sharper this time.

“What about me and Franco?” I asked, shifting in my seat, trying to sound indifferent.

Lewis leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “It’s stupid,” he said, a strained smile on his face. “But he liked a tweet. That said you were pretty.”

I let out a small, nervous laugh, hoping it would seem natural. “Oh? That’s interesting,” I said, pretending to brush it off, but my chest was tight, and my palms felt clammy.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Interesting? Why is that interesting?” His voice was still light, but his gaze was anything but.

I shrugged, my mind racing. “Uh… because… I don’t know, it’s just funny, I guess.” I took a sip of water to distract myself, but I could feel his eyes watching my every move.

“It’s funny?” he asked, his tone losing its playful edge. “You think it’s funny that he thinks you’re attractive?”

I looked at him, forcing a confused expression. “Lewis, come on… what do you want me to say? He liked a tweet. Big deal.” I leaned back in my chair, trying to appear nonchalant, but my voice betrayed me with a slight tremble.

Lewis’s face hardened, his expression unreadable. He picked up his napkin, placed it on the table, and stood up. “Let’s go,” he said curtly.

I blinked, confused and panicked. “But… my food?”

He motioned for me to stand as he held out his hand. “I can get you food at the hotel. Now, come on,” he said, his tone soft but firm.

I hesitated, but the look on his face left no room for argument. I stood, grabbing his hand as he led me out of the restaurant. He handed the waiter some cash on the way out, apologizing for the abrupt departure, but his grip on my hand was tight, almost possessive. My mind raced with anxious thoughts. Does he know? Does he suspect something more than just the tweet? The tension in the air was suffocating.

The ride back to the hotel was painfully silent. I glanced at him several times, trying to gauge his mood, but he didn’t look at me once. Even the elevator ride up was filled with an unbearable tension. By the time we stepped into the luxurious suite, my nerves were frayed.

Lewis closed the door behind us and slammed it shut, the sound echoing through the room and making me jump. I turned to face him, my heart pounding.

“Lewis?” I asked hesitantly.

He stood there, his expression cold and unreadable. “Give me your phone,” he said calmly.

My heart dropped. “What? Why?” I asked, forcing a laugh to mask my panic.

“Y/N. Don’t do this,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Just let me see your phone.”

I smiled, trying to deflect. “Lewis, baby… what? Why? What’s wrong?” I said sweetly, stepping closer to him.

His eyes softened for a moment, like he was begging me to prove him wrong. “If you don’t show me your phone, I’m going to assume you have something to hide,” he said, his voice low and filled with quiet intensity.

I froze, my mind racing. Oh god. He knows.

I froze, my mind scrambling to find a way out, my heart pounding so hard I thought he might hear it. “Lewis,” I started, my voice faltering, “what… what are you even talking about? I don’t have anything to hide.”

His eyes narrowed, and I could see the hurt beneath the coldness in his expression. “Then show me,” he said softly, but there was a sharp edge to his tone, like this was his final offer. “If there’s nothing, show me your phone.”

I tried to smile, to ease the tension, but it came out all wrong—strained, almost guilty. “Lewis… this is crazy. You’re being paranoid.”

“Am I?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. He stepped closer, and I instinctively backed up, bumping into the edge of the bed. “Because for weeks now, you’ve been acting different. Distant. Nervous. Like your mind is somewhere else. And now this—Franco liking a tweet about you? And you think I’m paranoid?”

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, guilt and panic crashing over me in waves. “Lewis, stop. You’re making this into something it’s not,” I said, my voice trembling.

“Then prove it,” he said again, his tone firmer this time, his jaw tight. “Prove to me I’m wrong. Because right now, Y/N, it feels like you’re lying to my face.”

I shook my head, swallowing hard. “This isn’t fair. You don’t trust me, and now you’re demanding to see my phone? Do you realize how crazy that sounds?”

He let out a sharp laugh, the sound devoid of humor. “You’re deflecting. Again. You think I don’t notice? You think I haven’t noticed how you’ve stopped calling me ‘lovie,’ how you barely look at me when we’re together?” He paused, his voice cracking slightly. “I know you, Y/N. Better than anyone. And I know when something is wrong.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came out. My defenses were crumbling, and he could see it. His eyes softened for a brief moment, like he was giving me one last chance.

“Please,” he said quietly, his voice almost breaking. “If I’m wrong, just tell me. Tell me I’m imagining things. Show me there’s nothing to worry about.”

I stared at him, my throat tightening. Every excuse, every lie I had ready to say felt hollow and wrong. My silence only seemed to confirm his worst fears.

His face changed—his expression hardening, his disappointment cutting deeper than any words could. “Y/N,” he said, his voice low and dangerous now, “if you don’t tell me the truth right now, I’ll assume the worst. And I’m not the kind of man who tolerates being disrespected.”

I felt the tears spilling over, hot and stinging as they ran down my cheeks. “Lewis…” I whispered, my voice breaking.

He stepped back, crossing his arms, his gaze cold now. “Did you?” he asked simply, his tone flat. “Did you sleep with him?”

My heart shattered at his words, the weight of my guilt suffocating me. I wanted to lie, to deny it, to do anything to make this go away, but the truth was written all over my face.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Oh my god,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You did. Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I stammered, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “It just… happened. I didn’t mean for it to—”

“You didn’t mean for it to?” he interrupted, his voice rising with anger. “What the fuck does that even mean? You accidentally ended up in bed with him?”

I flinched at his words, my tears falling freely now. “Lewis, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I love you—”

“Don’t,” he snapped, his voice raw with emotion. “Don’t stand there and tell me you love me after what you’ve done. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done this.”

I felt my legs weaken, my body trembling as I tried to hold myself together. “Lewis, please,” I begged, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do anything to fix this. I don’t want to lose you.”

He looked at me then, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger, hurt, and disgust. “Fix this?” he repeated, his voice dripping with bitterness. “You can’t fix this, Y/N. You can’t undo what you’ve done.”

He turned away, pacing the room as he ran his hands through his hair, his frustration palpable. After a moment, he stopped, his back to me as he spoke. “Pack your things,” he said quietly, his voice steady but cold. “I want you out of here.”

“Lewis, no,” I cried, stepping toward him. “Please, don’t do this. I’ll do anything—”

“Don’t,” he said sharply, spinning around to face me. His eyes were red, his jaw tight. “Don’t make this harder than it already is. I gave you everything, Y/N. I loved you more than anything. And this… this is how you repay me?”

His words hit me like a blow, and I felt my knees buckle as I sank onto the edge of the bed, sobbing. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice broken. “I’m so sorry.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his face unreadable, before turning and walking toward the door. “I’ll be back in an hour,” he said without looking at me. “Be gone by then.”

The door slammed shut behind him, and I felt my entire world collapse around me. The man I loved—the man who had been my everything—was gone. And it was all my fault.

I sat there on the edge of the bed, staring at the closed door, my sobs the only sound in the vast, luxurious hotel suite. My mind was a whirlwind of guilt, panic, and heartbreak. The weight of everything crashed down on me all at once, suffocating and inescapable. What have I done? I kept asking myself. What have I done to him? To us? To myself?

For a moment, I couldn’t move. I just sat there, my tears soaking the fabric of my dress, my chest heaving with silent cries. Lewis was gone, and this time it felt permanent. There was no reassuring hand on my back, no soft “angel” whispered in my ear. He was done with me. And I couldn’t even blame him.

I forced myself to stand, my legs shaky and weak as I dragged myself to my suitcase. The silence in the room was deafening, save for the occasional hiccup that escaped me as I tried to pull myself together. My hands trembled as I packed my things, throwing clothes and shoes into the bag without any care or thought. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. This wasn’t how I wanted things to go.

Halfway through, my phone buzzed on the nightstand, the sudden sound cutting through the heavy stillness. I froze, staring at it, my breath catching in my throat. For a split second, I thought—hoped—it was Lewis. Maybe he was coming back, maybe he wanted to talk, maybe there was a sliver of a chance to fix this.

But when I picked it up, the name on the screen made my heart sink and flutter at the same time.

Franco.

I stared at the phone, debating whether to answer. Part of me wanted to throw it across the room, to shut it all out and figure out a way to mend things with Lewis. But another part of me—the part that was still drawn to Franco, even in the midst of this chaos—needed to hear his voice.

I hesitated, then swiped to answer. My voice was weak and broken as I said, “Hello?”

“Hermosa,” Franco’s familiar accent filled my ear, soft and comforting. But as soon as he heard the tremble in my voice, his tone shifted. “Y/N? Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. The dam broke, and I sobbed into the phone, my voice shaking as I tried to explain. “He knows, Franco. Lewis knows…”

There was a pause on the other end, the line heavy with his silence. “He… knows?” he finally said, his voice low and filled with concern. “Knows what? About us?”

“Yes,” I whispered, choking on the word. “He asked for my phone, and I… I couldn’t lie anymore. He figured it out.”

“Y/N…” Franco’s voice softened, and I could hear the guilt in it, the same guilt that had been eating away at me for weeks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I—” He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

I looked around the room, at the suitcase half-packed on the bed, at the door Lewis had slammed shut behind him. “I’m in the hotel,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But… he told me to leave. He doesn’t want me here.”

“Where are you going to go?” Franco asked, his voice urgent now. “Hermosa, you can’t just be out there by yourself. Come to me. Please. I’ll take care of you.”

I hesitated, the weight of my situation pressing down on me. Part of me wanted to tell him no, to handle this on my own, to somehow find a way back to Lewis. But the thought of being alone, of facing this heartbreak by myself, was too much. I needed someone. And Franco was there.

“Okay,” I said quietly, almost defeated. “I’ll come.”

The relief in his voice was immediate. “Good. I’ll send you my room number. Just… get here as soon as you can.”

The Uber ride to Franco’s hotel was a blur. My tears had mostly dried by then, leaving me feeling empty and numb. My suitcase sat awkwardly at my feet as the car weaved through the bright lights of the Vegas strip. The glitz and glamour of the city felt like a cruel joke, mocking the disaster my life had become.

When I finally arrived at Franco’s hotel, I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I made my way to his room. The hallway was quiet, and I counted the door numbers until I reached his: 505. I knocked softly, my heart pounding in my chest.

The door opened almost immediately, and there he was. Franco stood in the doorway, dressed casually in a T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair messy and his eyes filled with concern. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at me, taking in the tear-streaked makeup and the exhaustion written all over my face.

“Hermosa…” he said softly, stepping forward to pull me into a warm hug. His arms wrapped around me, and for the first time that night, I felt a small sense of relief. I let myself sink into his embrace, letting him hold me as I fought back fresh tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured against my hair, his voice heavy with guilt. “This is all my fault.”

I pulled back, shaking my head as I looked up at him. “No, Franco. It’s not just you. I made choices too… bad choices. And now… I’ve lost him.”

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away the stray tears on my cheeks. “You didn’t lose him because of me. You lost him because you weren’t happy, Y/N. You know that.”

His words stung, but they also rang true. As much as I loved Lewis, as much as I wanted to believe we could work through anything, there had been cracks in our relationship long before Franco came into the picture.

“Come inside,” Franco said softly, taking my suitcase with one hand and leading me into the room with the other. The door clicked shut behind us, and I felt the weight of the world lift just slightly.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, watching as Franco set my suitcase aside. He turned back to me, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and something deeper, something I wasn’t ready to name yet.

“You’ll stay here?” he asked gently, sitting beside me. “With me?”

I nodded, my voice too weak to speak. “Please,” I finally whispered. “I don’t know where else to go.”

His lips curved into a small, soft smile as he leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. “Then stay,” he said simply, his voice soothing. “You’re safe here.” He says as he sits down next to me.

For the first time that night, I felt a glimmer of hope, even as the guilt and heartbreak lingered in the background. Franco was here. And for now, that was enough.

Franco moved closer, his hands resting lightly on my knees as he sat in front of me. His presence was grounding, his gentle touch reminding me that, for better or worse, I wasn’t alone. I felt fragile, like a cracked vase barely holding together, and he seemed to sense it, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he was afraid I might break.

“You’re exhausted,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “You’ve been through too much tonight, hermosa.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice, the ache in my chest still too raw. My gaze dropped to his hands, which were warm and steady against my knees, the opposite of the chaos swirling in my mind. I thought about everything—Lewis, the fight, the tears—and felt my throat tighten again. But before I could spiral further, Franco’s voice pulled me back.

“You deserve better than this,” he said, his accent curling around the words in a way that made them feel softer, more tender. “Better than feeling like you’re walking on eggshells. Better than being so unhappy.”

I looked up at him, my brows furrowing slightly. “It’s not that simple, Franco,” I murmured. “I hurt him. I ruined everything. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for what I’ve done.”

He shook his head, his hands sliding from my knees to gently take mine in his. His fingers brushed against my knuckles, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down my spine. “You made a mistake, Y/N,” he said, his voice steady. “But maybe… maybe this was always going to happen. Maybe things weren’t as perfect as you thought they were.”

I blinked at him, his words hitting closer to the truth than I wanted to admit. “I loved him,” I said softly, the words catching in my throat. “I still do.”

Franco’s jaw tightened for a moment, and he looked down, like he was fighting with himself over what to say. When he lifted his gaze back to mine, his expression was both tender and determined. “I know you do,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But do you love him the way you’re supposed to? The way that makes you happy? Or do you love him because… you think you should?”

His question hung in the air between us, heavy and unavoidable. I stared at him, my mind scrambling for an answer I didn’t have. I opened my mouth, then closed it again, unable to form a response. He leaned in slightly, his dark greenish-blue eyes locking onto mine.

“You’re here, Y/N,” he said softly, but there was a hint of something darker in his tone, something almost possessive. “You chose to be here with me. That means something.”

I swallowed hard, feeling my heart race under the intensity of his gaze. I wanted to argue, to tell him this was just a temporary refuge, a place to catch my breath. But deep down, I knew there was more to it than that. I didn’t just come here because I was kicked out—I came here because I wanted to. Because Franco had become the only person I could turn to.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” I whispered, shaking my head. “It just… it got so complicated, and I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Franco reached up, brushing a stray tear from my cheek with his thumb. His touch lingered, his hand cupping my face as he leaned in closer. “Maybe it’s not complicated at all,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. “Maybe this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

I felt a pang of guilt twist in my chest, but it was quickly overshadowed by the pull I felt toward him, the way his words wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. He leaned in further, his lips ghosting over mine, and for a moment, I let myself fall into him, into the warmth and safety of his presence.

His lips brushed mine softly, then again, firmer this time, and I melted into the kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate; it was slow, deliberate, like he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss, and I let him, too tired to fight the part of me that wanted this—wanted him.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his fingers still holding my waist. His eyes searched mine, and there was a flicker of something in his expression, something that made my stomach twist.

“You know,” he said softly, his voice laced with an almost smug satisfaction, “I’ve been waiting for this moment. For you to be here. With me. Just us.”

His words made my breath catch. I blinked at him, trying to process what he’d just said, but he didn’t give me a chance to respond. He leaned in again, his lips finding mine, his hands sliding up to cradle my face as though I were something precious he couldn’t bear to lose.

For the first time, I saw it clearly—the way he looked at me, the way he touched me. This wasn’t just about comfort or attraction. This was something he’d wanted for a long time, maybe longer than I’d realized. And now, with me here in his hotel room, he had exactly what he wanted.

I felt Franco's lips press against mine once more, his kiss deepening as his hands slid up to tangle in my hair. My fingers gripped his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as I lost myself in the sensation of his mouth on mine, the taste of him filling my senses.

He leans me back ok the bed, never breaking the kiss as he laid me down gently on the plush comforter. His body hovered over mine, one hand brushing strands of hair from my face while the other trailed down my side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against my lips, his voice rough with desire.

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I arched into him, desperate for more of his touch. My hands slid under his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest, the heat of his skin. He groaned softly as I explored him, his hips pressing against mine with a promise of what was to come.

Slowly, deliberately, he began to undress me, his eyes never leaving mine as he revealed inch after inch of my bare skin. I trembled under his gaze, feeling exposed yet cherished, like the most precious thing in the world. When he finally removed my bra, he took a moment to admire my breasts, his fingers ghosting over my nipples until they pebbled beneath his touch.

"Perfect," he breathed, lowering his head to take one into his mouth. I gasped, arching off the bed as pleasure shot through me. He lavished attention on first one breast, then the other, his tongue swirling and his teeth grazing until I was writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

His hands slid down my body, pushing my panties aside as he explored my most intimate places. I was already wet, already aching for him, and he groaned against my skin at the discovery.

"So sweet," he murmured, his fingers teasing my entrance. "So perfect."

He kissed his way down my body, pausing at my navel before settling between my thighs. I tangled my fingers in his hair.

His tongue delved into me, and I cried out, my fingers tightening in his hair. He explored me with a thoroughness that left me breathless, his mouth and tongue working in tandem to bring me closer and closer to the edge.

Just as I thought I couldn't take anymore, he pulled back, licking his lips. He kissed his way back up my body, his hands caressing my skin until he reached my face. He cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my kiss-swollen lips.

"I want to be everything you need," he whispered, his eyes searching mine. "I want to make you forget him, forget anyone else but me."

With those words, he claimed my mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep as he pressed his body against mine. I could feel the hard length of him against my thigh, and I ached to have him inside me, to be filled and claimed by him completely.

He reached down, positioning himself at my entrance, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. With a single, steady push, he entered me, stretching and filling me in a way that made me see stars.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his head falling forward to rest against my shoulder. "You feel incredible."

He started to move, his hips rocking against mine in a steady rhythm that had me gasping and clutching at his back. Each thrust seemed to go deeper than the last, hitting a spot inside me that made my toes curl and my vision blur.

I lost myself in the sensation of him moving inside me, in the heat and the friction and the delicious pressure building within me. He changed the angle of his thrusts, and suddenly I was seeing white, my body tensing and quivering as my orgasm crashed over me.

"Yes, hermosa" he panted, his own movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. "Come for me, Y/N. Let me make you feel better." He coos.

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside me, his body shuddering as he found his own peak. I clung to him, my nails digging into his skin as I rode out the waves of my climax.

After we both caught our breath, Franco rolled off me, pulling me close so that my head rested on his chest. His fingers stroked through my hair, the gentle touch sending aftershocks of pleasure through my body.

"That was amazing," he murmured, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head. "You're amazing, Y/N."

I snuggled closer, relishing the warmth and security of his embrace. He offered me the use of his shower, and I gladly accepted, disappearing behind the closed door to wash away the evidence of our lovemaking.

As I stood under the hot spray, I could still feel the ghost of Franco's touch on my skin, the memory of his kisses and caresses. My mind was hazy with pleasure, my body still tingling from the intense orgasm he'd given me.

Wrapped in one of his shirts after my shower, I emerged to find Franco waiting for me, his eyes soft with affection as he took in my appearance. The shirt hung loosely on my frame, the scent of him enveloping me like a comforting blanket.

He pulled me down beside him on the bed, his arms encircling me and drawing me close. We lay there for a long time, just holding each other, exchanging soft kisses and gentle touches.

"You're special, Y/N. You're the only one I want, the only one I need."

His words were like a balm to my wounded heart, soothing the ache that had been there for so long. I realized that he was right. I'd never felt this kind of connection with Lewis, this sense of being cherished and adored.

As I lay there in Franco's arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart, I knew that I was exactly where I was meant to be. All thoughts of Lewis faded away, replaced by a growing sense of rightness, of belonging.

But as much as this moment relaxed me…. The intrusive thoughts of the days to come filled my mind with anxiety.

———————————

As always, thank you for reading and appreciating my works. 💜

l hope my writings help you unwind and escape your life in a way that is exciting to you.

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Xoxo

Princess

[deviantdaffodil]

lust

miguel o’hara x reader smut

im actually genuinely obsessed and deeply worried about my mental health . the grip spiderman 2099 has on me is unwavering and im afraid i will never get to escape

contains: breeding, marking/biting, office sex, spontaneous sex, stress relief sex fr, clawing, size difference, slightly jealous miguel, very dominating miguel, im obsessed with miguel, a more in character miguel this time i hope

A deep sigh escapes your throat. You really did not have to deal with O’hara right now; it’s been a long day. Sure, you were thankful he allowed you to stay in the spider society occasionally, despite just being a normal civilian, but god did he aggravate you. Often. He called you to his office for god knows what reason. You were anxious as you entered the office. Anyone in their right mind would be.

He gazes down at you, his stare is cold and his face is stoic. “Glad you could make it,” his tone is hard to read. He didn’t sound upset. But he also didn’t sound glad to see you. You keep quiet, deciding to just let him speak. His eyes are piercing through the dimly lit room; the sun was setting so the sky didn’t do much in terms of lighting the room up. Miguel continues to glare down at you, silent and judgmental. Instead of just allowing his platform to slowly make its way down to you, Miguel simply lunges down to you. He stands before you, still towering over you. His lack of communication was making you anxious as he would usually tear someone in here a new one if need be. He silently slips his arm around your waist and shoots a web up, bringing you both up to where his desk is located.

After being set down you recompose yourself with a chuckle. “I’m- I’m never gonna get used to that..” You pause for a moment, choosing your next words carefully. Heat radiated off your body and Miguel’s too. He still had his arm around you and you were too locked in place by a mix of fear and shock to move. “What is it that you wanted to see me about?” You look up at him.

He exhaled. He felt like he needed that. “This- This isn’t easy.. to admit,” Miguel mumbles. The claws of his suit had a grip on your waist, but you were still too paralyzed by shock to do anything. “I.. I want you all to myself. If I could keep you up here all to myself without seeming insane, I would, in a heartbeat.” He looks down at you, his eyes locking with yours.

This was absolutely news to you. You yourself had a thing for Miguel for the longest time. But you had no idea he wanted you this bad. Your mouth sat agape as he spoke to you. The Miguel O’hara.. wants you? All to himself? You would hang out with him while he worked sometimes, but you definitely didn’t see this kind of thing coming, especially not from someone as professional as him.

He turns to you, putting his hands on your shoulders. His gaze was fiery and he dug his claws into your shoulders. “You’re just.. such a relaxer to me. When you’re around, I don’t worry about all of.. this,” he motions to his desk. “But you.. you. You make it all better.” A growl rumbles in this throat. “I have a request- a-a suggestion maybe.”

Your jaw still hangs open. You shut your jaw and blink repeatedly. “What.. do you have in mind?”

A flash of excitement streaks across his face. “Sex,” he blatantly stated. He didn’t try to sugar coat it or anything. He wanted to fuck you more than anything. Even now, seeing you look up at him like that, in utter shock as he grips your shoulders has his cock aching. “I’m so.. so tired of seeing you with other spidermen. I need you.”

You paused, completely baffled. “Y-Yes!” You cried out, a little too eager for your liking. You hated to admit it, but you absolutely wanted him. “I-I mean, yes. Yes I’m okay with that.” Miguel did not hesitate. His claws immediately ripped open your clothes, exposing your chest. Miguel’s claws retracted and he immediately attacked your chest, latching his lips onto one of your nipples, the other being massaged by his hand. “O-Oh my god!” Your impulse cry of ecstasy caused Miguel to groan.

He peppered kisses up your neck, his big, calloused hands massaging your breasts. “I’m going to make you mine,” his lips are right next to your ear, his voice is low and husky. “Can I bite you?” You nodded, lost in the feeling of his fingers massaging your nipples. He groans as he drags his fangs across your skin before burying them into the crook of your neck. You let out a moan. His fangs sunk deep into your flesh, he was very careful not to release any venom though. He wanted to make sure you felt every bit of what he was about to do to you. The stinging sensation of the bite slowly faded to pleasure. He keeps his mouth latched onto your neck, sliding his hand down your body and letting his hand rest on your ass, squeezing gently. He pulls his fangs out of you, blood dripping from them now. You look into his eyes and bite your lip.

“Kiss me,” you whispered breathlessly as you grab his face in your hands, slamming your lips together. The taste of your blood was on his tongue, he gently bites your lower lip and tangles his hands in your hair. “Miguel,” your voice was high pitched and whiny, more so than you wanted. Miguel didn’t mind and in fact reveled in the fact he was able to do this to you. He continues peppering your skin with kisses, sliding your shorts and underwear down your body. He then rips his own suit off his skin, instantly cooling his body and setting his cock free.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and bends you over his desk, lining his cock up with your dripping cunt. “I need you,” his chest is pressed against your back and he slowly thrusts his cock in between your thighs. “So plump and warm,” he moaned in your ear, sliding his hands under your chest pinching your nipples.

“Oh, Miguel,” you moan, your face pressed against the wood of his desk. “Fuck me, please,” you cried, your lip quivering in anticipation.

Miguel slid his hands down to your hips, lightly raking his claws down your flesh, small beads of blood forming at the scratches left behind. He grabs the base of his cock, rubbing his tip in your wet folds. You whimper in anticipation, then Miguel stuffed the tip of his cock in your hole. He was so big it felt like he was ripping you in half. He was griping your hips and digging his claws into them for better leverage. “So little,” he muttered as he pounded into you, “so.. tight..” His thrusts were shallow, working his way up to filling you completely. “Can you take it all? Do you think you can handle all of my big cock?” He was babbling while he thrusted, drunk on your pussy already.

“Please Miguel,” your small frame whimpered for him. “More please..”

Miguel pulled out almost all of the way, a whimper escaped you when due to feeling empty. He spat on his cock and slowly pushed his throbbing, swollen cock into your quivering pussy. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes and the two of you moaned at the new feeling. Miguel began thrusting wildly, pounding hard in deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. “Wh-Where?” he asked, in reference to where you wanted him to cum.

You turned back to face him as best as you could. Looking into his eyes you say, “Inside.” This sends him into overdrive. He’s pounding deep into you at animalistic speeds. You were sure if you were on your back you’d have a bulge from his swollen head protruding out. He latches his fangs onto your other shoulder as he growls, completely feral, and cums inside of you. You cry out as he bites you again, your walls clenching around his cock as you cum. He continues thrusting sloppily, letting your tight cunt milk all of his seed. He retracts his claws and holds himself up over you, hands at either side of your head. He pulls out of you and you can feel sweat dripping from his forehead.

“Miguel.. You ruined my clothes.”

“Mierda.. Yeah I did.”

[theseinfernalangels]

Heyy there! I am obsessed with your writing and I am here to be fed (jk, unless...?) 👉👈

Oh anyways can I get a 25 and 32 with Dain Aetos pretty pleasee? Thankyou!!

BE FED 🗣️🗣️🗣️

25 & 32: Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain + a kiss so passionate that after they part, neither person can open their eyes for a few moments afterwards.

A/N: Poor Dain! Looks like he keeps finding himself caught in the rain haha.

“Shit, shit, shit…No, fuck—“

Dain swears loudly as he tugs you along, booking it from the flight field to a nearby alcove with just enough covering for it to be sufficiently dry. It hadn’t been raining ten minutes ago — in fact, it started what felt like out of nowhere, and Dain and you had been abandoned by Zihnal for the first time in forever seeing as you were some of the only people outside.

Dain presses himself against the wall and runs a hand through his now-soaked curls. “Dammit,” he groans. “Why does it always have to be on nice days?”

You chuckle, coming in to lean against his shoulder. “Just the way of life, I think,” you suggest. “Or maybe someone pissed off General Sorrengail.”

He scoffs. “This is nothing. If she were really pissed, there’d be a hurricane ravaging the school as we speak.” He glances up. “Unless this is the start of it.”

Your faces mirror similar smiles as he settles a hand on the small of your back. “We have the worst luck sometimes,” he continues, poking the end of your wet braid with a finger. “If this is someone’s idea of a joke, I’m hunting them down immediately.”

“Please do,” you hear your dragon sniff. “My scales just dried from the last storm, and I don’t appreciate them being poured on again.”

You snort. “Léith says you should. He has a vendetta now since his scales are wet.”

Dain pulls you a bit closer, trailing a hand down your side to wrap around your waist. “Later,” he decides. “I think I like where I’m at now.”

“Yeah?” You raise yourself on your tiptoes, sliding your hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders. “What is it that you like, Wingleader? The atmosphere?”

“No,” he replies. “It’s the view, personally.” The corner of his lips twitch up into a smile at the sound of his official title. His eyes slowly sweep over you, sopping with rainwater but somehow still utterly beautiful. He carefully tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Instinctively, your chin tilts up a little. “Yeah?” You tease. “Just the view?”

His lips find the corner of your mouth; even if you have half the mind to pull away, seeing as he’s drenched, you all but melt into him. Deciding to be bold just for once, your hand finds his jaw and gently tilts it towards you, capturing Dain in a sweet kiss that clearly has him hooked in seconds, his eyes fluttering shut prettily. In what feels like less than a second, the sensation is all-consuming, sending little shocks through your veins at just how firmly he keeps his mouth on yours, moving with a rhythm that’s practically hypnotic. 

You can only part when you feel your mind start spinning, pulling back with a sharp gasp as your chin finds purchase on his shoulder again. The sound of little, heaving breaths fill your ears, but they’re not yours. You pull away after a moment and finally force your eyes open to look at him.

Dain is flushed — cheeks pink, mouth wet, and eyes dilated and lit with something akin to yearning. You laugh breathlessly and cock your head to the side. “What’s got you so bashful, huh? You look like I’ve never kissed you before.”

He sucks in a breath. “Well,” he begins, before he stops and shakes his head and smiles. “You’re drenched, you look like a mess, and you’re clinging to me like a lifeline. It’s so cute.”

Immediately, your features contort into a scowl. You open your mouth to retort that, “No, I’m not cute,” but his mouth finds yours again the moment you start to speak. Whatever. You roll your eyes and kiss him again. There’s always time to argue about it later, once you’re finally out of the rain.

[vax-merstappen]

F1 boys falling for you <3

these got kind of long lol, but i thought you’d rather have more of a storyline than less of one lol. Prefs are below the line :)

Lando Norris

It was your first season as an f1 driver and you had been performing surprisingly. As both the only woman on the grid and a rookie, you were drawing a lot of attention from the media.

The media wasn’t the only one paying attention to you, however. “Lando, just go talk to her!” Carlos exclaimed, walking up to his former teammate. “You’ve been staring so hard your eyes are going to fall out.”

“Shut up, mate.”

“You like her, no?”

“Of course not!” Lando exclaimed. Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Well maybe a little.”

“Then go talk to her, mate!” When Lando didn’t move, Carlos grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him in your direction. You turned to the guys, an amused expression on your face.

“Y/N, this is Lando. Lando has had a crush on you for the whole season but hasn’t got the cojones to tell you about it.”

Carlos shoved Lando in your direction and walked away. His face was bright red.

“Was he telling the truth?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Lando admitted. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out. I was going to tell you myself.”

“Well then tell me.”

“I, Lando Norris, have had a crush on you all season.”

You smiled at Lando. “Would you want to get dinner sometime?”

Lando’s face, less red now, lit up. “Of course.”

Oscar Piastri

It was the final concert on your tour and you were performing in Melbourne. Little did you know that a certain formula 1 driver who was a fan had decided to attend the concert.

The concert went amazing and you stepped backstage to see your best friend waiting for you.

“Y/N! You did amazing!”

“Thanks!”

“Omg you won’t believe who I saw in the crowd.”

“Who?”

Your friend smiled. “Oscar Piastri! He’s a formula 1 driver and apparently he’s a huge fan of yours. You have to invite him backstage!”

You couldn’t help but be curious about this guy and so you instructed security to go find him and invite him backstage. When he arrived, he clearly looked shy and a bit embarrassed to be there.

“You must be Oscar!”

“I am. And you’re Y/N.”

You nodded and smiled. “I heard you’re a fan of mine?”

“You could say that,” Oscar said with a gulp.

“What would you call yourself?”

“A guy who never imagined he’d be asked backstage by his dream girl.”

Max Verstappen

Max had just left his apartment to go pick up groceries when he saw you walking down the street, looking very lost. He walked up to you.

“Hey, do you need help?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m studying abroad here and I have no idea which way to go to get to the university.”

Max smiled and gave you the directions you needed and you thanked him and headed on your way. For the rest of the day, he kept thinking back to his interaction with you and how you looked so cute. He mentally kicked himself for not asking for your number.

A week had gone by, and you were still on Max’s mind. He had no way of finding you again and did not even know your name.

Fate must have been on his side, as when he walked out of his apartment that day, he saw a familiar figure walking down the street. He tried not to look to eager as he walked up to you. “Did you manage to get to the university the other day?”

“Yes! Thanks again for the help,” you responded.

“I had one problem with my directions the other day I realized.”

“You did? I made it there alright, so no worries.”

“I forgot to ask your name and number.”

Your mouth dropped open a little, surprised that the gorgeous stranger you met the other day had been attracted to you too. “Y/N,” you responded as you typed your number into his phone.

“I’m Max,” he said. “I’ll text you tomorrow and see if there’s a time we could meet up.

You nodded. “I would love that.”

Charles Leclerc

Charles was a childhood friend of yours. You had seen him grow up and become the incredible man he is today. You had always been close, but Charles had come to want something more with you. To take your relationship to the next level.

It was a warm day during his summer break where he invited you to spend the day with him. You had gone on a hike in the hills of Monaco and had laughed and chatted the whole way there. When the two of you got to the top, you stared out at the stunning view. But when you looked at Charles, you saw he was looking at you instead.

“Do you have something to say?” you asked.

“Yes. Every time I see you, I can’t help but think how beautiful you are. I want you to be mine.”

“How long have you wanted this?”

“Oh, a long time.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

You leaned over and kissed Charles. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time too.”

He paused for a second before pulling you close and kissing you back. The rest of the afternoon was spent together, happier than either of you had been in a while.

Carlos Sainz

One of the perks of being an f1 presenter was the time you got to spend with the drivers. Of course there were some you preferred to interview over others, but you enjoyed getting to know them all. What you didn’t realize was that for Carlos, one of the perks of being an f1 driver was getting to spend time with you. Before each Grand Prix, he would look for your face in the sea of media personnel. It usually wasn’t hard for him to find you, as someone so beautiful easily stood out from the crowd. Every time he saw your name on his media schedule, Carlos would get butterflies in his stomach. For someone brave enough to drive an f1 car, you were enough to make Carlos nervous.

At first you didn’t notice, but Carlos began to come up to you before every race. He wanted so desperately to show you that he liked being around you and that he really wanted to take your relationship to the next level. After the fourth week of him speaking with you before a race, you finally talked to him.

“Carlos, fancy seeing you again. You’re not on my schedule for today,” you greeted.

“I know, but I’m so sick of watching you from afar. I love to be around you and I’m sick of wanting you and not having you.”

“Oh, uh…”

“Are you free tomorrow night? To get dinner with me?”

“Are you asking me in a date.”

“Yes, I should have done so a long time ago.”

“Well since you admit that, yes I am free.”

Lewis Hamilton

As a trainer in a celebrity gym in London, you often found yourself in the company of athletes of all sorts. However, the man who had recently started coming to your gym and asking you for advice had not stuck out as anyone in particular you should recognize.

The first week you had seen him, he had asked you to help spot him with the weights he was lifting. You had agreed and helped him, without making much conversation. The second week, you had caught him watching you as he ran on the treadmill but he did not come over to you. The third week, he had asked for some advice on which machines he should use even though you could tell he already knew what he was doing.

And this week, he had come up to you with a box in hand. “I’m sorry if this is a bit forward, but I’ve noticed you the past few weeks I’ve been in here and I think you’re really cute. Would you want to go on a date with me.”

Thinking he was cute, you responded, “Sure. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Lewis. Lewis Hamilton.” He flipped open the box to show you what was inside. “I got you this bracelet. I noticed you always fidgeting with your other one and I thought you might like another to go with it.”

You smiled. “How thoughtful! I’m y/n by the way.”

“Y/N. I like it.”

Daniel Ricciardo

For years, Daniel had disliked his media duties. Of course he would put on a smile for the press, but interviews were not actually super enjoyable for him. Until he got a new PR manager and he couldn’t help but look forward to press duties.

“Ok, Daniel. So today we’ve got the press conference this morning and then an interview with sky sports this afternoon.”

“Yep! Who else is at the conference?”

“Nico, Carlos, Fernando, and Oscar,” you replied. “I’ll sit off to the side and watch so we can debrief before heading to the next interview.”

“Oh, you’ll be watching me then?”

“Yeah, Daniel, like I always do.”

“Well I’ll be watching you.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t seem to keep my eyes off you. I know it’s unprofessional, with us working together and what, but going to interviews with you makes my day.”

“What are you trying to say, Daniel?”

“Would you go out with me? On a date? That’s all I’ve been thinking about lately.”

You looked down, your cheeks turning red. “You have a way of flustering me, Daniel.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes.”

Yuki Tsunoda

Had anyone asked Yuki who his celebrity crush was, he would have said you. As a famous actress, you had been in a good number of Yuki’s favorite movies and he could just never seem to get your face out of his head. Despite both of you having many connections, you had yet to meet in person.

It only took a twist of fate and a gala for a mutual sponsor to bring you together. You were starring in the latest advertising campaign for a brand that has sponsored AlphaTauri for the upcoming year. You walked into the event wearing a stunning red dress and Yuki was immediately starstruck. His celebrity crush was here in person with him.

His jaw dropped open slightly as you locked eyes with him from across the room. He had dreamed of this moment for years and he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was in fact dreaming. You waved and began to walk over to him and Yuki pinched himself to snap out of that stupor.

“Hi, you’re Yuki, right? The formula 1 driver?”

“Oh, um, yes. That is me,” he responded.

“I’m y/n!” you said cheerfully.

“I’m so excited to meet you! You are my favorite actress.”

“Am I really?”

“Yes! I watched all your movies!”

You saw Yuki’s obvious excitement and decided to chat with him for a while longer. A while longer ended up becoming the whole night and you and Yuki exchanged contact information to meet again.

At the end of the night he told you that you were his celebrity crush for a long time and you responded that it was quite obvious from the start.

Alex Albon

As an f1 driver, Alex was not home a lot. But somehow every time he came home, he managed to run into you. You both were neighbors, so it wasn’t exactly weird, but Alex was sure it was fate that you kept meeting. You see, Alex had what was comparable to an airport crush on you. He didn’t see you often and only from afar, but he couldn’t help but think about you after he had gone from home.

This time, Alex was going for a jog when he saw you struggling with a pile of boxes. He paused for a minute before crossing over to your driveway.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m fine. Just moving some boxes of donations to the animal shelter I volunteer at.”

The fact that you loved animals so much endeared you to Alex even further.

“Are you sure I can’t help? I was just going to jog, lifting boxes could be my exercise instead.”

You could hardly refuse the stunning man standing before you and he helped you get your car packed to go to the shelter. You found that you enjoyed his company.

“Can I be honest with you?” Alex asked.

“Of course.”

“I’ve come to like you since we’ve been neighbors. And I was wondering if you’d want to go out with me on a date? You’ve always seemed so nice.”

“Sure. Just maybe next time it can be something other than putting boxes in a car.”

Logan Sargeant

As a streamer for Quadrant, you regularly streamed and discussed Motorsport content. The only driver on the grid you had met was Lando, but little did you know another driver had been watching your content.

Logan had fallen asleep one night with YouTube on and woken up to one of your videos on his screen. He immediately loved how you looked and as he continued to watch, the thoughtful way you talked about Motorsport really resonated with him.

A few days later, after watching a bit more of your videos and one of your streams, he sent a message to Lando asking for your number. Lando, knowing the two of you would be perfect for one another, agreed to play matchmaker and gave you both each other’s contact information.

Logan was thrilled to be able to text you and soon the two of you hit it off. Logan couldn’t help but fall even further for you every time you messaged and his heart would skip a beat every time he saw you go live. Needless to say, the American man had fallen hard.

[chaiifluuf]

Go kitty go! — d. osamu

synopsis. coming across a lonely kitten by the streets doesn’t happen everyday and it would be a crime not to take it home with you

content. gn!reader, ada!reader, fluff with extra fluff, reader likes cats(i love them okay.), established relationship, lowercase

notes. got this silly idea one day out of nowhere hehe, also thank you for all the love on my last fic! i really appreciate it <3 hope you enjoy !

meow!

suddenly you heard a high pitched cry and could identify it immediately. it was a cat. you stop in your tracks and turn your head around to the source of the noise. in a rather dark alleyway by the dumpster you notice a small kitty with a black coat and white paws. your heart melted in a second. why was there a kitten alone here, especially in this part of the city?  

“hey…” you speak out with a gentle tone, slowly crouching down so you could be more on the same level as the young feline. and to your satisfaction, it carefully started to make its way to you, seeming interested in you. with a smile you reach your hand out and invite the kitty to smell your hand, hoping that by doing so it will know that you won’t harm it. 

the black cat curiously sniffs the tips of your fingers before nuzzling your hand and letting out a small meow again. god you forgot how cute the sound of a kitten can be. you lightly stroke its back and you can’t believe how soft the fur is. you start to wonder how it ended up here. did it run away from home? was it a stray from the beginning? but then the coat wouldn’t be so clean and fluffy. or maybe someone kicked the kitten out or abandoned it? you really hope that’s not the case because who would do that to such an innocent creature.

the cat enjoys your affection quite a lot as it keeps rubbing itself against your legs. you stand up again as you remember you should really get home now. you’ve been dealing with a case for almost the whole day, leaving your poor boyfriend all alone for so long as dazai would describe it while you were about to leave in the morning. it was already hard enough to get out of bed since he would just not let go of you and pull you right back into the sheets with him, softly whining into your ear.

though now you were done with work, planning to return home. the kitty let out another cry and you knew you couldn’t just leave it here. who knows what might happen if you were to leave it alone here. 

and so you made up your mind to take it with you for the meantime and then later decide what to do next. you pick the animal up and continue walking, never before anticipating to encounter something like this but you were definitely not complaining.

•••

dazai is quietly laid down on the couch as he reads the book he always reads. it started out okay but overtime he has gotten bored of even reading that as time seems to go slower than usual. truth to be told, dazai just wanted you to come back, no matter how hard he tried to distract himself. it was awfully quiet in the house, and ultimately there was just nothing particular to do.

he sighed, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. dazai would have gladly come along with you but you insisted you wouldn’t take long and told him to go back to sleep as it was a little early in the morning when you had to leave. funny how you think he’d be able to normally sleep without you there. the amount of times dazai has thought about wanting to stay in bed with you for as long as even a day, cuddling and resting together, just you and him. even if you two wouldn’t be doing anything productive, he would still enjoy it to the fullest.

the sound of keys jingling and a door opening brought him back to reality. his face immediately lit up as he sat up straight, looking towards the front door, already excited to see your face. 

“my love! you’re finally back, how— …oh?”

as soon as you were in his view, he noticed something small in your hands. it took him less than a second to realise what that was.

“well as you can see.. i came home with some company today. look how adorable it is!” you tell him with a big smile while keeping the creature in your arms and rubbing its head with your thumb. the cat looks around curiously, examining the room.

dazai, for the first time in a while, was dumbfounded. he knew about your liking to cats but he never expected you to simply come back with one. 

“…you found a kitten?” he says unsurely as he stares at the kitty with slight confusion, trying to make sense of the situation.

“yeah, on the streets. i couldn’t possibly just leave it there when it came to me,” you speak with a soft tone and slowly put the kitten down so it could move freely. dazai watched the cat as it let out another meow. he blinked and turned back to you.

“surely you’re not planning to keep it right? someone might be looking for it,” he points out although he thinks his heart skipped a beat when he saw the pure look of adoration in your eyes. the overall image of happiness on you made his chest feel warmer.

you nod. “i know. however for the time being we can take some care of it, can’t we?” you say with a hopeful look, moving to sit down next to him and also helping the kitty to join you two as it followed you around.

“look I know you aren’t fond of dogs but i've never heard you say anything bad about cats,” you mention, slightly leaning on him as you wonder about his opinion on cats. 

he lets out a low hum, wrapping one of his arms around you and giving you a small kiss on your temple before responding calmly. “i don’t have anything against cats as long as they don’t attack me out of nowhere.”

you seemed pleased with his answer. “exactly! i’m sure that this cutie here is no problem at all,” a slight chuckle leaves your lips as you feel the black kitty between you and him lightly lick your finger, not used to the sensation of its rough tongue.

dazai’s grin grows a little. “are you talking about yourself?~” he teased, using that flirtatious tone of his. and of course he didn’t miss that pink tint that raised to your cheeks right after saying that. 

“‘samu! you know what I was talking about,” you tell him, and you can feel your cheeks burn a little. you should’ve honestly seen that one coming but oh well. he has always been too good at making comments like this to get you all flustered.

before he could respond, the kitten started meowing again, only slightly louder this time. both you and dazai are caught off guard by that. you blink in surprise. “what’s wrong?” your tone is softer, trying to figure out what’s going on as you stroke its back. 

“maybe it’s hungry?” dazai guesses since if the kitty has been a stray for some time then it must be hungry.

“oh you’re right,” you now realise that as well. what should you feed it though? you get up to go over and check the fridge, scanning over all the food items there are. you hum in thought. “pretty sure that cow milk wasn’t good for them… but we have some ham,” you speak while taking a package of it out.

dazai returns his gaze back to the black kitten. it really did have rather big and innocent eyes, he noticed. and before he had the chance to react, it made its way into his lap, seeming curious about him now. dazai’s body slightly tensed as he wasn’t sure what to do or what it wanted from him. the cat merely lets out a small cry as it stares at him.

after a moment of thinking, he slowly moves his hand near the kitty’s head and to his surprise, the kitten rubs itself against his palm right away. his gaze softened. Its fur really was as soft as it looked and after about a minute of petting it, he heard a different noise. It was undoubtedly purring. did this little one like him that much?

“aww socks likes you, ‘samu! this is the first time i'm hearing it purr,” you speak up with joy from behind as you prepare some small pieces of ham on a plate. dazai can’t help but chuckle at the mention of the name.

“socks? that's supposed to be its name now?” he says as he turns his head to you, a casual smile on his face. 

“i mean i think it is a fitting nickname, considering its black coat and white paws which seem like socks,” you explain while putting the rest of the ham back into the fridge and returning to the couch. You place the plate of some ham on the ground and glance at socks. “Look here, i got you something,” you tell the kitty as you point to the ham.

the kitten immediately perks up and jumps off dazai’s lap. it sniffs the pork and a second later starts eating it. your face beamed as you looked at socks, it is quite obvious that the poor animal was starving considering how hastily it’s eating.

dazai however had his eyes on you the entire time. he swears your beauty multiplies when you look so content like this. the way your eyes are sparkling, a soft smile gracing your lips, your whole figure seems to shine. and once again he's reminded that he is dating an angel. he really can’t fight the way the corners of his lips turned upwards. he wished things stayed this way forever. because if you are happy then he is happy.

it doesn’t take long for the kitten to finish its food, licking its lips in satisfaction. you reach out your hand to pet it, murmuring a small praise as well. 

“y’know we have to go to the animal shelter sooner or later,” dazai brings up with a quiet tone and intertwines one of his hands with yours. a moment of silence passes before you subtly nod, your hand squeezing his slightly. “yeah i know… i imagine someone could be worried sick, with no idea where their pet is,” you say calmly, a quiet sigh leaving your lips.

yes, that was the right thing to do after all. it’s the least that this cat deserves.

•••

in the end, the kitty reunited with its real owner. you still remember the image of pure relief on her face when she hugged her pet tightly, a few tears escaping her eyes. she also thanked you dearly with a hug as well. she was beyond grateful to you over the fact that you decided to take it with you to the shelter.

oh and you found out that the kitten’s real name was molly. it was a perfect name for her no doubt, but you won’t regret calling her by your created nickname before. 

molly is now with her owner in her real home, loved and cared for. problem solved. so why don’t you feel happy about it?

you honestly felt a little guilty for even getting this attached. you should have expected this one way or another, it wasn’t like you were going to keep a cat all of a sudden just because you found it on the streets. you should forget about this and move on with your life.

dazai noticed your changed behaviour after the whole thing. he always does. you were more quiet at times, and he could tell you missed her even if you didn't bring it up. the affection you had for her was clear to him from the beginning. he often thought about how to make you feel better, what he could say to see that smile of yours again. one day he finally got an idea.

“love, i’ve been thinking about something,” dazai says, leaning slightly against the kitchen counter as he watches you cook breakfast.

you hum in response. “i'm listening,” you say simply while you sprinkle some salt onto the fried eggs you’re cooking. after a moment he decides to continue.

“i wouldn’t mind adopting a cat some time in the future,” he tells you truthfully as he glances at you, waiting for your reaction.

your movements pause. “...are you serious?” you turn to him and look deep into his eyes. for a second you were unsure if you heard him right.

dazai smiled fondly before nodding, and after processing what he meant, a smile grew on your lips too. he sees that familiar light in your eyes again now and he couldn’t feel luckier.

you moved closer to him and gave him a simple yet sweet kiss on the lips. dazai placed his hands on your hips, slowly drawing circles on them as he focused on the kiss.

afterwards, you kept your forehead in touch with his, murmuring your next words so tenderly.

“i love you so much.”

and dazai responds just as softly.

“i love you even more, my dear.”

wow this came out much longer than I thought whoopsies, anyways this guy definitively is secretly a cat person (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

[usanyan]

level up, camboy!wonbin (feat sungchan)

second part of action!

! roommate!sungchan, voyeurism, wonbin gets tied up, edging, overstimulation, use of toy(s), sungchan is mean, degradation, use of slut/whore

wonbin never really cares about how many eyes are looking at him. the more viewers on his stream the happier, the harder he gets. he couldn't care less that his roommate and dear friend sungchan stands at slightly opened door, hidden in the dark corridor. wonbin is too concentrated on his hands that slide down his shining chest, listening eagerly to his chat's every command.

sungchan doesn't know how he ended up here. all he wanted was to ask wonbin if he wanted to order some food... sungchan has always been a quite lively person, and his roommate that spent all his time with him suddenly started disappearing in his room as soon as the night started to set. sungchan is getting tired of eating alone in the kitchen, wonbin even gave up on the movie night they set together every thursday and it really made him sad. he couldn't be more surprised when he peaked through wonbin's door once and saw his friend's naked body lit up by his computer screen doing some of the most obscene things sungchan has never seen. more than aroused, sungchan actually felt really curious. is it this activity that stopped wonbin from paying attention to him, his beloved friend?

sungchan ended up looking through different websites until he found wonbin's account. he created an account to lurk through his roommate's profile fully. the dates of some of his old streams matched exactly with the evenings where he was missing next to sungchan on the couch, and it made sungchan upset. very upset actually. turns out his friend of a few years is not only an attention seeker, but also such a pervert. he mindlessly watched a few parts of wonbin's past videos and saw how turned on he was each time the comments would degrade him.

the idea tingled sungchan's mind for days. the side eye he would give wonbin in the morning before he left to work went unnoticed, and it only made him more confident about his decision. for the past few days, sungchan observed wonbin from the little crack in the door, just enough to see his roommate either jerking himself off, humping a pillow or using toys depending on the mood of his chat. he ignored how hard he got watching the humiliation wonbin faced, the tears that dripped from his eyes. and each time sungchan would just grumble to himself and lay on his bed, his head so full of thoughts he can barely sleep anymore.

sungchan is really silent. it's thursday, their movie night day. wonbin is all giddy since he came back from his classes, a smile painting his face. sungchan can't wait to watch it disappear, he can barely hold back when wonbin disappears in his room. he turns off the tv, and all the lights in the living room before sitting back down on the couch. and he waits. he waits until he can hear a high and muffled moan coming from wonbin's room. sungchan had waited enough.

he stands up, walks to his friend's room and opens the door without warning. wonbin is not on live yet, he's just turning himself on slowly by poking the bulge in his shorts. he jumps in surprise and almost fall off his bed when sungchan gets in. he sits cross legged on his bed, his hands covering a little his crotch to make sure sungchan couldn't see his hard length pushing through his clothes. but he can't hide the website that's on his laptop screen and the vibrator that lays behind him on the bed.

"hmm hi sungchan... everything okay?"

"it's thursday. we're supposed to be having a movie night."

"oh. right... well i don't... feel so good, we can do that next time if that's okay?"

"stop lying to my fucking face wonbin."

sungchan's tone catches wonbin off guard, and his breath gets stuck in his throat. a wave of anxiety builds in his stomach and takes away the neediness. what is his friend doing in his room, and what could he want from him at that moment? wonbin watches the door close and he swallows with difficulty. sungchan walks around his roommate's room, he knows exactly what he's looking for. it's bad, he knows it, but he couldn't stop himself from going through wonbin's things when he was out for the past few days.

sungchan easily finds the dark blue ropes that wonbin carefully hides under his bed, and that's when his friend starts getting the hint of what he has in mind. wonbin stands up to take the tight cotton away from his hands, but sungchan pushes him back onto the bed with force.

"so that's what you do when i'm waiting for you and you don't even tell me? i can't believe i was even worried for you while you're acting like a bitch in front of a camera? now take your clothes off i'm gonna show your followers how much of a slut you are."

sungchan's eyes travel the website and look around for the livestreaming option. he clicks on the button, the red dot of the camera turns on, and the dark room appears on the screen. wonbin sits on his knees, naked, his hands behind his back. his head is low with genuine shame, but when comments start flowing and money drop on the inbox, he gets more confident. he's tied to the point he can't move unless sungchan helps him. his hands on his back, the dark cotton surrounding his chest and rubbing on his nipples then up his neck, tight just enough to make his breath painful. the ropes dig into the skin of his thighs that he parts as much as possible so it wouldn't make contact with his balls that are already overly sensitive. the knot around his lower stomach has his hard dick resting on it, his transparent arousal dripping on his skin.

sungchan reads a few comments without a look at wonbin that wiggles on the bed. he can be seen on the livestream, but he doesn't show his face, only his veiny arms and hands appear on the screen when he grabs roughly grabs wonbin's face to make him look at the camera.

"isn't that everyone's favorite whore... he's prettily tied up for you, isn't he?"

anonymous user gave you a tip : what is going on rn

anonymous user gave you a tip : ???????

anonymous user gave you a tip : that's so hot of him please make him cry

"you have such demanding fans wonbin, they all want to see how messed up you can get."

sungchan lets go of wonbin's face. his roommate won't even look at him, but he can't ignore how much his cock throb just having sungchan spitting venom at him. he tries again to free his hands but can only shifts a little more on his knees, his tip rubbing against the dark blue rope that's around his stomach. the sensation makes his hips shake and buck up, desperate for more friction he needs so badly. sungchan is quick to stop him with a light slap on his thigh that makes wonbin whimper.

sungchan follows the comments' directives. he wants wonbin's chat to see how far he could go for them and for his own pleasure. he grabs the black vibrator wonbin has used so many times and turns it on. when he shows it to the camera, the tingling noise of the money being dropped on the livestream gets faster. it convinces sungchan to go further. he walks up to wonbin and stands next to him, he makes sure he's not blocking the view. with the edge of the vibrator, he makes wonbin look up at the screen again, his face already flushed with anticipation.

sungchan travels wonbin's body with the vibrating head of the toy, he spends a while on the pointed nipples that are already red from being rubbed over the cotton rope. his roommate cries out, his chest heaves so fast, the dark cords digging into the skin and leaving delicious pink burns. he makes its way lower, pushing the vibrator on his stomach. wonbin's thighs shake, he can only whine, he feels pathetic. but he loves it. he loves the forced eye contact sungchan makes him have with the camera. he can see all the comments telling him how fucked he looks and it turns him on even more.

the vibrations slowly reach wonbin's hard cock and it makes him jerk up instantly. sungchan has the edge of the black toy resting at the base of his dick, he watches it bounce, the beads of precum hitting the sheets. he grabs one of the rope with his free hand to make sure wonbin would stop wiggling around, and he makes the vibrator go up his length until he reaches the tip. the chat is going too fast for him, he needs to get up and choose comments by himself, and as he checks out some of the users' words, he ignores the boy tied on the bed. wonbin cries loudly, his hips trembling with pleasure, the toy rubbing his slit over and over again. he can feel his orgasm already building up and way too fast.

sungchan finally sees wonbin throwing his head back on the screen and he takes the toy away. a sob escapes his roommate's lips, his pulsating tip so red and his throbbing dick almost painful. sungchan just scoffs at him, taunting him in such a cruel way with the vibrator. the anger on wonbin's face is mixed with desperation, his cheeks glistening with his tears.

"did you think it was going to be that easy? don't you usually listen to your chat like a good boy?"

anonymous user gave you a tip : poor little wonbin

sungchan hits playfully wonbin's cock with the vibrator, it makes him moan a little louder each time. all he can do is babbles incoherent words, the denial of his orgasm makes the pleasure so painful his head spins, his mind is foggy. he can barely keep his eyes open, his head dropping low. sungchan's hand reaches wonbin's hair, he yanks his head back up and another cry escapes his roommate's throat. the overwhelming sensation of his hair being pulled is new to him but he can feel his release building up again at the feeling of sungchan's rough fingers grabbing his long black locks. his hair get tugged on a little more and it cuts his breath.

anonymous user gave you a tip : is that how you beg for it? you can do better than that.

anonymous user gave you a tip : awww will he ever get to cum, poor little whore...

"can you read that wonbin? or are you crying too hard? your chat wants you to beg for it. come on, make it worth it for them, ask them to cum since you want it so badly."

it takes a while for wonbin to gather his thoughts, his breath is broken with sobs and the noise of the vibrator is making him dizzy. he wants to look down, but sungchan's tight grip on his long hair forces him to arch his back and look right into the red dot on his camera. he can see himself on the screen and the massive figure of his roommate next to him. once again, he looks so pathetic.

"pl- please... c-can i please cum... i w-wanna cum it hurts i-it's so... s-so much i need it please p-please..."

"that's a little too easy like that."

"sungch-"

"don't dare saying my name on your fucking stream. now you better try harder or i'm leaving you like that."

"i- i-i need to cum s-so badly i'm s-such a slut... i w-want it... p-please i- i'm in so much pain pl-please make me cum..."

his words are directed to his audience but also to his roommate, his voice broken by desperate whines. sungchan holds the toy close to his throbbing cock and he watches it twitch with anticipation. wonbin bucks his hips to meet the vibrations and it only brushes his tip but it's more than enough to make the pleasure explode inside wonbin's stomach. his dick pulses with each rope of the hot fluid, covering his thighs and the edge of the toy. sungchan pushes it down the length and wonbin jerks up once again, his body arching into the delicious frictions. the contact is making him drool, it drips down his chin along with the tears that already wetted his neck. the dark blue rope that contains his hands feel even more tight each time he tries to free himself.

wonbin wants to get away from the heavy vibrations sent through his already sensitive cock, it hurts him, it hurts him so good he can't even think anymore. only sungchan tugging on his hair to make sure he keeps his head up to show on the livestream keep him in touch with reality. he feels himself twitching again as another wave of pleasure rushes over him. more cum spills from his slit, down his length until it drops on the sheets.

"n-no m-more... st-stop..."

it's only when his third orgasm hits him that sungchan decides to take the toy away. he turns it off and throws it on the bed. since he let go of wonbin's hair, his roommate just dropped his face into the bed, still lost in the overwhelming stimulation that sent shivers to his spine. sungchan cuts the live, and unties each knot. wonbin's hands that are now free just fall down on the sheets next to him, the red marks left by the dark blue cords covering his glistening skin. now satisfied by his work, sungchan leaves wonbin alone with his thoughts, face flushed and breath ragged.

sungchan walks into his room and closes the door behind him. the bulge in his sweatpants is becoming more and more difficult to ignore, each step makes him a little harder. he sits at his desk and turns on his gaming computer, massaging himself through his underwear inside his pants. he knows exactly what he's looking for once the screen lit up.

jvngsvngch4n is live !

THAT WAS KINDA CRAZY 🤓☝🏻 sungchan is much meaner than i expected at first (i would do anything mean dom sungchan asks me tbh) sorry for anyone who wanted camboy wonbin x reader btw this popped in my mind and i couldn't get it out of my head lol