#I just think about them day and night and can’t get the idea of them dating out of my head…

[sleep-0-deprived]

Nanami x ftm reader thoughts~! ૮꒰ྀི ෆ ˃̣̣̥ ⤙ ˂̣̣̥ ෆ ꒱ྀིა

Tags: pure NSFW, vaginal creampies, slight breeding, eating out, Afab on Amab sex, office sex, under the desk blow jobs, slight degrading <33

A/N: I’ve been doin a’ lotta Amab reader works s’ I figured I’d feed m’ trans sweethearts too !

Taglist: @asher-is-hotxp @yyuinaa @silvern1006 @kimisbunny @unstab1eperson2

Just thinkin bout sextin Nami while he’s at work, sending pics of you in his fav pair of lacy panties with the frills around your pretty thighs, him responding with a message tellin you to “knock it off, I can’t afford a hard on right now [name]” but you just won’t listen will you?…oh how you could practically hear his teeth gritting and that vein bulging on his forehead when he’s all irritated…oh god you’re wet at the thought- did you just send him a pic of that? oops.

Just thinking bout Nanami comin home from a long day of work, his cock is all hard and he’s pent up from those skimpy pictures of yourself but he doesn’t touch you, he walks in the room only to look at you N’ take his tie off along with his coat before walkin off to his study in the house, he leaves you so pent up and desperate that you have’Ta beg him to even let him permit you to give a blow job before he even considers fuckin your needy cunt. Nami just grumbled on about “you want your pussy fucked then earn it— apologize for teasing me at work” he’d leave you sobbing and whining out apologies around his dick.

Just thinkin bout Nami being totally cruel with your pussy, he fucks you bent over his desk raw, his hips slap your ass cheeks flushed Nd’ he just croons you on talkin bout “y’know it deserves it for bein so greedy— if it wasn’t so needy then maybe you’d listen more” he’d talk and have full on conversations with your cunt while his tip pulses against your womb leaving a throbbing feeling between your thighs, he’s the type of man to dirty talk your cunt like you aren’t even in the room, Nanami forces his loads inside you, he may seem so tame N’ cold but his seed is your punishment. Nami makes you feel his load inside your swollen insides all day leaving you feeling bloated N’ sick.

Just thinkin bout Nanami’s idea of affections, if he’s a little too rough with your pussy he’ll be all affectionate with it by peppering kisses on your clit while he jus massages your thighs and makes out with your lips whispering bout how he “didn’t mean to be so mean on his pretty baby” Nanami is either a sweet talker or he’s cruel. Nami is vanilla with sex he’s a man with old ideals and old fashioned morals so oral and penetration is all he does unless you wanted to try something new, Nanami may be rough and fuck you hard but he doesn’t have a lot of other kinks besides that and maybe if you ever get him to admit it he does wanna see you all knocked up by him.

Just thinking bout you and Nami being together for a real long time. You two have been together long enough that kids have been mentioned, you’re in the middle of getting your insides wrecked by his cock and you already have two loads pumped inside you and all nami can do is heave in your ear “wanna give you my kids— I wanna knock this pretty pussy up-“ his platinum hair is a mess and his hand is wrapped around under your thigh lazily rubbing your clit while he fucks your pussy loose and has your puffy petals all wrapped wide around his girth making your labia look extra swollen from his cock.

Just thinking bout Nami biting your breasts at night when your binder is off, he knows your tits are all sensitive and your nipples are puffy but his if he doesn’t love to drool and make out with them like he does your pussy, if he’s lucky and you feel like it he loves squishing your tits together with his cock between them makin you open your mouth and stick that pretty little tongue out…he loves watching your nose scrunch at the tender feeling of the boob job you were giving him, his tip pressing to your tongue with every thrust makin you taste his precum before he strokes his cock at the end and finishes with his cum getting all over your mouth and chin, shooting down on York breasts leaving you a sticky mess while he grunts out “there’s a pretty boy”

[tkwrites]

Soft Launch; Hard Launch - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from @kawhh

Title: Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc) 

Warnings: Though most of this is fluff, there is a really nasty comment left on a social media post and mentions of poor self body image.

Summary: 4 times Quinn soft launched his relationship with Sarah, and one time he did it for real.

Word Count: 2,900

Comments: The idea of writing a 4+1 fic for my 500 mark has been rolling around my head for a while, so when I hit 500 followers about a week ago, I thought I'd try my hand at it. Many thanks to @aloragrace and @captainlexaproluvr for looking over this piece and calming my fears about doing new things. I’ve never written in this format before, but I quite like the way this turned out.  I’d love to know what you think!

I'm just bowled over and so excited! Thank you all so much. Knowing people enjoy my writing has been so fulfilling to me. I’ve wanted to write since I was about thirteen, but never had the guts to publish anything for people other than my friends to read. Now that I have and know that people like it, it feels a bit like I’m giving my little inner awkward teenager the best gift she could ever ask for. Thank you for your encouragement, kindness, and support! I can’t tell you how much it means to me.  

If you did enjoy this Snapshot, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot 

1.

The first time Quinn put Sarah on his social media was after they got home from the family reunion. The Monday after she left, he was looking back through his photos while he waited for her to get off work. He found one from their beach day he’d completely forgotten he’d taken. Sarah was kneeling over a tide pool with a few of his cousins, pointing to something in the water, while they looked into her face with rapt attention.

Even though her face was mostly hidden from view, she looked beautiful in that casual way he loved so much. Her hair was up in a bun, and she was wearing a pair of denim shorts along with her orange swim top.

Do you mind if I put this on my stories? he asked later that night, once she'd texted that she’d arrived home safely and would call as soon as she changed.

“I don’t mind,” she told him after they said their initial hellos, caught up on each other's day, and he asked again. “I’m a little surprised this is the first photo you want to go with,” she admitted. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d want to go with something more…” she trailed off, unsure exactly how to phrase what she was thinking. She’d only glanced at it, but from what she remembered, the photo wasn’t anything special. It was from the tide pools, and though it fulfilled the mission of showing her without showing her whole face, she didn’t look excessively beautiful or anything. In fact, the first thing she’d zeroed in on were her stomach rolls. Echoes of girls calling her too fat to be with NHL superstar Quinn Hughes rang in her mind. 

“I like it,” he defended before she could find the right words or slide down the slippery slope of body image woes. “You’re doing what you love.” 

It melted something in her that he looked at that photo and saw her passion. “That’s really sweet, Quinn.” 

“So it’s okay?” 

How could she say no now? “Yeah. It’s okay.”  She reminded herself she wouldn’t see any of the things people were saying about her unless she sought them out, which she had no intention of doing.

He put it up with nothing more than an orange heart in the corner as soon as they hung up from the FaceTime call.

Less than a minute later, Eunice raced into Sarah's room. She was so overly excited, she ran into the door jam, bouncing off of it before regaining her balance. She thrust her phone into Sarah's face. “Quinn put you on his stories!” 

Glancing at the screen, Sarah smiled. “Yeah, he just asked me if he could put that photo up.”

“Oh my god. This is so dreamy,” she gushed, turning the phone back around to look at the picture again. “You look so pretty.” 

2.

The second soft launch was on his main feed at the end of the summer, though he still didn’t show her face.

It wasn’t until they got home from Hawaii and all shared their photos that Quinn realized just how many pictures his mom had taken. He was used to her snapping pictures of them - it was a very common occurrence to look around at any given moment, especially on vacation, to find her brandishing a camera to document everything she could.

He’d never appreciated it more until he was looking through the shared album and saw all the moments his mom caught. There were photos of him and his brothers and him and Sarah once she got there. There was even a video of his and Luke’s shock at their girlfriends’ arrival.  

His favorite picture she took was from the beach outside of their vacation rental. Anxious for a quiet moment together, Sarah pulled him outside to watch the sun set.

The rest of the family was inside, debating something about dinner. They had been on a kayak and hiking tour that day, and he was so tired, he was beyond caring. As long as some kind of food was provided, he’d be fine.  

His mom must have walked out onto the back porch to snap the photo. 

 The sun, sinking into the ocean in front of them, turned them into shadow as Sarah leaned her head on his shoulder. It was the kind of photo people put in vacation advertisements, and when he’d seen it, he knew it had to be included in his end of summer review.

He uploaded it with a carousel of six other photos before captioning the post, One for the books. 

After receiving sixty notifications in the first five minutes, most of them from people he didn’t know asking who the girl in the 5th photo was, he muted the app.

It wasn’t until he looked at the comments that evening and saw, I think this must be that fat bitch he was dating during the season. I was hoping they’d broken up since he didn’t stay in Vancouver this summer and she did, that he disabled comments all together.

He’d been so angry that someone who didn’t know either of them would say anything like that, he had drafted a reply before realizing he was about to engage in a reactionary argument with someone he didn't even know or have any emotional ties to. He wanted to correct them, but knew he should really get PR help to do that. 

When they talked about social media for the first time in their relationship, Sarah explained how the comments from these so-called fans made her feel. Even though she knew they didn’t know her as a person and didn’t have any place in their relationship or lives, it was difficult not to let them get to her. 

He knew the feeling well. He’d gone through the same thing when he accepted the captaincy. The pressure to perform had been so immense, it had turned him into a snappy, short-fused, irritable person until, at the advice of some other captains in the league, he started putting his phone down regularly. 

3. 

The third came when it was his turn to sit for a 32 Thoughts podcast episode with Elliott and Kyle, and they were shooting the breeze before the actual interview began. 

“We missed you at dinner,” Elliott said, referencing a banquet that the league had hosted the night before for all players and press on site for the whirlwind pre-season media tour.

Without really thinking about it, Quinn found himself explaining, “my girlfriend's family lives here, so Jack and I had dinner with them last night.”

“She's not here?” Elliott asked. 

“No, she has stuff going on back home so she couldn't be, but it was nice to see them.” Some players brought family to the media tour, but not many. It was a short stint, shorter than most road trips during the season, so most didn’t bother.

Their producer, Shanna, flashed a red light, letting them know it was time to start the formal interview. Kyle counted down, “three two and one,” before introducing Quinn and starting with the questions. 

At the end of the recording, both Elliott and Shanna asked if he wanted them to cut his talk about his girlfriend and her family from the episode. Usually, they left those anecdotal conversations in, especially on the youtube videos, but this one was a bit more nuanced. 

“I think it should be fine, but can I talk to her about it and get back to you?” 

“Of course,” Shanna said, smiling. “It’s not slated to go up for a few weeks, so just let us know by the 17th.”

When he'd asked Sarah about it that night after arriving home, she seemed unconcerned. 

“I think that's kind of up to you.” She knew from their FaceTime conversation the night before that Quinn, Jack and their agent had eaten at Rachel's house, so there was no risk of someone posting photos and making the connection they were with her family.  

“I mean, people have been speculating you have a girlfriend, right?” she asked. 

“Yeah.” It was more than speculation at this point - most people knew he had someone. They just didn’t know who she was. 

“And people who found my instagram already know I’m from Nevada, so I don’t really see what the worry is.” 

He’d expected her to be more worried about it, but now that she was responding to him with cool logic, he had to admit she had a point. 

The next day, he messaged Elliott along with his agent to let them know they could keep the anecdote in the recording. 

When it hit the airwaves, Sarah purposefully didn’t check any of the messages Eunice sent her for a few days. Eunice had taken it upon herself, and continued at Sarah’s request, to report big gossip to her so Sarah wasn’t tempted to go on the blogs or fan accounts. 

Most responses were sort of victorious bragging, posting about connections with Sarah’s instagram “about me” section where she talked about being from Nevada, feeling that this interview proved them right. 

4. 

The fourth time wasn’t planned. 

When Quinn got home from their first regular season road trip, the apartment was dark. It was past two in the morning, and Sarah had a therapy appointment at eight, so she hadn't waited up for him. 

In his trek through the apartment, he paused by the dining room table. Until Sarah moved in, walking into the apartment after a road trip was often the worst part of the whole thing. He was always glad to be back in his own bed, but nothing seemed to exasperate his singleness more than coming home. Not only was he going from being surrounded by the team to being totally alone, he was coming home to an empty house. The combination of the two felt stiflingly lonely.

The mess of textbooks, highlighters, and notebooks left out on the dining room table was such proof of someone else living in the house, it made his chest feel full. 

In a spur of the moment act, he snapped a picture of the dimly lit chaos and posted it to his Instagram stories. No caption, no explanation. Just the simple proof that he wasn't alone.  

“Why did you put a picture of my books on your instagram?” she asked the next day after getting home from her appointment. 

He shrugged, “I liked it.”

The season before, anytime she would study at his house, she would clean everything up, organizing it all back into her bag before going home or coming to bed. 

Now, her books often stayed out on the dining room table on weekends. He offered to convert one of the spare bedrooms into an office for her, or let her use the office he had a computer in now, but she turned him down. 

“I like studying out here,” she'd said, glancing up to look out of the windows. “If it bothers you, I can put everything away.” 

“It doesn't bother me,” he'd said, leaning down to kiss her temple. “I just want you to be comfortable here.” 

She had beamed at him and turned her head to brush her mouth over his. 

5. 

Quinn waited until the one year anniversary of the day he and Sarah met to officially announce their relationship. 

He knew by that time that they could go the distance. He'd seen her through every month and every season and saw no major red flags. Not to mention the fact that everyone in his life liked her, and her family and friends seemed to like him.

Over the course of the year, he'd moved pictures he liked of Sarah and pictures he liked of them together into a favorites album he simply called S. So, in late January, he put together a post and sent it to his PR rep to look over. After they sent it back with some edits, he showed it to Sarah. 

Sarah, who for her part, knew this was coming but wasn’t quite sure what to expect, was taken a bit off guard. She knew Quinn read a lot and was thoughtful with his words, but reading his simple summary of their relationship made her melt. 

He’d included 5 pictures of her that were interspersed with 5 pictures of them together. The first photo was that perfect, golden hour sunset selfie. The rest were all photos she knew he loved. She’d seen some of them, and some of them, she hadn’t. There was a candid shot of her laughing with Jack and Luke that she hadn’t seen before as well as a picture she never knew he’d taken of her sitting at the dining room table with her laptop, looking pensively at the screen, fingers poised to type. There was the photo of them in front of their Christmas tree, and one of them laughing so hard, they were falling all over each other on a beach in Hawaii.

Under the photos, he’d simply written, The best year. and tagged her in the final photo - the dreamy picture Kaitlyn had taken of them under the mistletoe. 

“Quinn,” she breathed, looking up to find him smiling expectantly at her.

“You like it?” he asked. 

“I really like it,” she said, fighting back the tears that pushed at her eyes. 

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

He was ready for the world to know that not only was he taken, he was taken with her, and not afraid to say it, but he knew it would likely open up another door of criticism she’d never been exposed to before. 

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I’m ready.” 

The fact that Quinn wanted the world to know, without a doubt, that she was the one he was with made her heart race. 

They didn’t have to hide anymore. To her, it was the last, final cementing block in their relationship. It spoke of his faith in their future and his dedication to staying with her. He wouldn't put it out for the world to see if he had any doubts. 

He posted it right before practice two days later so he could work the anxiety of it off. 

When he got back to his locker an hour and a half later, he had 1,654 likes and over 200 comments. At first glance, they all seemed positive. Not that what random strangers thought of him meant much, but it was nice to know his fans were happy he was happy. 

Bonus scene: 

On the afternoon of the anniversary of their one year of meeting, Reece stopped Sarah as she walked into the building after work.

“I’ve got a delivery for you, Ms. Roberts,” he said, walking with her over to the security desk. 

Before he’d even picked them up, Sarah knew it must be the large bouquet of flowers that were an absolute riot of color - purple and yellow, red and pink, white and green. 

Quinn was out of town - playing in Toronto at that very moment, in fact - and she knew he must have sent them in place of being there in person. 

“Thank you, Reece,” she said, accepting the flowers and a card from him before heading upstairs. 

Trying to manage the vase, card, and her school bag, as well as press the button in the elevator, resulted in her accidentally slopping a large amount of water down her front. Thankfully, the large bouquet hid the spill from anyone else in the elevator, and she was the only one to get off on the top floor. Upon entering the apartment, she set the vase and card on the bar and went straight up to change. 

It wasn’t until she wandered down to make dinner during the second intermission and saw the bright flowers that she remembered the card. 

Her full name was on the envelope in someone else’s writing, and the front of the card was completely blank, so when she flipped it open, she was surprised to find Quinn’s handwriting filling most of it. 

It’s been one year since I took refuge in the aquarium, only to stumble upon a beautiful woman giving a talk about octopus and took the chance to ask her out. Back then, I just thought she was one of the most beautiful people I’d ever seen. Now I know that not only is she beautiful, she’s smart, kind, supportive and so driven she inspires me to do better. I don’t like to think what my life would be like if she’d turned down my offer for lunch, or I didn’t get up the guts to talk to her. This time with her has been a whirlwind and the best year of my life. 

I wrote this for the caption of the post that went up today, then realized the only person I really wanted to read it was you. 

Happy one year of meeting, Sarah. I’m so glad you took a chance and went out with me even though I was more than a little awkward. 

I love you. 

Love, 

Quinn 

Moved to tears by his thoughtful words, Sarah snapped a picture of the flowers to put up on her stories, adding the caption, Love you, @_quinnhughes, before texting him.

I love you. I can’t believe it’s been a year. Here’s to a million more.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[amirasainz]

Hey girl

So I got inspired by the whole Bella Hadid and Prince of Qatar thing. What if driver!reader is the one the Prince has a crush on and the other drivers become overprotectiv???

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Princess of Qatar

It was a strange feeling to be the center of attention, especially when the attention came from one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the world. Yn was used to the spotlight—after all, she was a Formula 1 driver for Red Bull, an extremely talented one at that. But this… this was different. It wasn’t just the press or the fans; it was him. The Prince of Qatar.

It had all started innocently enough. She’d arrived in Qatar two weeks ahead of the GP for a promotional event, and as a result, she’d spent more time than usual with the prince. He was charming, kind, and nothing short of a gentleman. They’d spent evenings talking about everything from racing to their favorite films, and his interest in her was genuine. Or at least, that’s what Yn had thought at first.

But the internet had other ideas. Rumors began to swirl—first as whispers, then as headlines. The two were seen together so frequently that fans started speculating. Were they dating? Was the prince falling for her? The rumors only got louder when someone snapped a picture of the two of them laughing together in a private conversation.

And then, it happened. A report surfaced suggesting that the prince might be interested in marrying Yn. The internet went into overdrive. Fans, tabloids, and gossip outlets all had a field day, creating hashtags, memes, and theories. It didn’t help that Yn had once posted a picture of her hand next to his, joking about "a future championship ring" and how “it’s the only ring I’d ever need.”

As the days passed, the drivers all started noticing the online buzz. And they weren't having it.

---

Charles was the first to notice.

It was late at night, and he was scrolling through his phone in his hotel room when a post about Yn and the prince came up. He immediately clicked on it, thinking it was just another rumor. But as he scrolled through the pictures of Yn and the prince, looking so natural together, he felt a knot in his stomach.

“What is this?” Charles muttered to himself. “This is going too far.”

He kept scrolling, getting increasingly frustrated as each article came up with more speculation. Finally, he tossed his phone onto the bed and let out a deep sigh. He had to do something.

---

George was, unsurprisingly, not far behind.

The next morning, at breakfast, he slid into the seat next to Charles, who was already staring at his phone. He raised an eyebrow.

“You know about the rumors, right?” George asked.

Charles nodded, his brow furrowed.

“It’s getting out of hand.”

“I know,” George replied, now looking serious. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. And I’ve come to a conclusion.”

Charles turned to him, confused. “What do you mean?”

George pulled out his laptop, opened a PowerPoint presentation, and turned it toward Charles. On the first slide was the title: "Why Yn Shouldn’t Become a Princess."

“George, are you seriously making a PowerPoint about this?” Charles asked incredulously.

George nodded, scrolling through the slides. “I’ve got points, Charles.”

The first slide was about the prince’s wealth and the pressure of becoming a royal. “The prince might have power, but would Yn be happy in that world?” George said, pointing at the next slide.

Charles groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re joking, right?”

“No, seriously,” George continued. “Number two: the media pressure. She won’t have any privacy. She’ll be constantly hounded, and it could affect her career. Imagine the headlines every time she races. ‘Princess of F1.’”

Charles rubbed his temples. “You’re insane.”

But George wasn’t done yet. He was already on the third slide: “Formula 1 Comes First”. “And lastly, we all know that racing is her first love. The prince can’t compete with that.”

Charles gave up, laughing despite himself. “Alright, alright, I get it. But maybe just... stop making PowerPoints, yeah?”

George shrugged, undeterred. “No promises.”

---

Meanwhile, Carlos and Max were taking a more direct approach.

“Max, we need to talk.” Carlos said as he walked into Max’s hotel room, closing the door behind him.

Max was leaning against the window, eyes narrowed, watching the hustle of the city below.

“About Yn and the prince?” Max said without turning around.

Carlos nodded. “I think we need to keep an eye on her.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“I mean, it’s not just the prince. It’s everything. The media. The fans. It’s all happening so fast. We need to protect her.”

Max finally turned, his usual nonchalance replaced with a rare seriousness. “You want us to act like bodyguards?”

Carlos nodded. “Basically.”

Max exhaled, then shrugged. “Fine. But only because we have to.”

And so, the next day, both Max and Carlos found themselves trailing Yn from a distance, keeping an eye on her as she went about her day. To anyone else, they looked like two guys casually hanging out. But in reality, they were her silent bodyguards, watching her every move without saying a word.

---

Lando, on the other hand, couldn’t help himself.

He had been spending more time with Yn recently, so he decided to confront her directly. He caught up with her after a practice session at the track.

“Hey, Yn.” Lando said, his eyes wide with curiosity. “What’s going on with you and the prince?”

Yn smirked, leaning against a wall as she wiped the sweat off her brow. “Oh, nothing. We’re just friends.”

“Just friends?” Lando repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You guys have been all over the news. There’s even talk about marriage.”

Yn chuckled. “Lando, come on. People love to make stuff up. We’re just friends.”

“But why are you hanging out with him so much?” Lando asked, his eyes narrowing in on her.

Yn laughed again. “You’re just jealous that I get to hang out with a prince, aren’t you?”

Lando threw his hands up in defeat. “I’m not jealous. I’m just... concerned.”

Yn patted him on the shoulder, her smile wide. “I’ll be fine, Lando. I promise.”

---

Finally, Lewis had his turn.

After hearing about the situation from the others, he decided it was time to have a quiet, heart-to-heart conversation with Yn. He found her by the pool, her legs dipped into the water, enjoying the rare moments of calm before the chaos of race weekend.

“Hey, Yn. Can we talk?” Lewis said, taking a seat beside her.

Yn turned to him, her expression softening. “Of course, Lewis. What’s up?”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Lewis said, looking at her with concern. “All this attention... it’s a lot. And I know it’s coming from everywhere. You’ve got a lot of people worried about you.”

Yn smiled gently. “I’m fine, Lewis. Seriously. I’m not letting any of this get to me. I know what I want, and I’m not going to let anyone else dictate that.”

Lewis nodded, his face softening. “Just... take care of yourself, yeah? And if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Yn leaned over and gave him a playful nudge. “Thanks, Lewis. You’re a good friend.”

---

Race weekend finally arrived, and the tension among the drivers was palpable. The rumors about Yn and the prince still lingered, but the drivers had all done their best to protect her in their own ways.

As they all gathered in the paddock before the race, Yn finally stood up and addressed them all.

“Alright, alright, I’ve had enough of this.” Yn said, raising her hands in surrender. “The prince and I are just friends. That’s it.”

The drivers exchanged glances, some of them sighing in relief, others looking a bit embarrassed for their overprotectiveness.

“That’s all?” Lando asked, still skeptical.

Yn grinned. “That’s all. Now, can we focus on the race? I have a championship to win, remember?”

The drivers let out a collective sigh, and Charles clapped his hands together. “Alright, alright, let’s get back to business then.”

As they walked to the grid, the rumors faded into the background, and the only thing that mattered was the race ahead. But as Yn smiled to herself, she couldn’t help but appreciate the way her teammates cared for her. In the end, she knew they’d always have her back—no matter what the internet said.

And that, she thought, was all that really mattered.

[loveesiren]

𝖤𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍 (𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖳𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾)

Rafe Cameron x Reader

a/n: here is the third and perhaps final part? of Emergency Contact. I am open to the idea of writing more for this if you guys have some ideas you want to share with me! Otherwise, thank you so much for enjoying this mini series! I loved writing it and I can't wait to write more for Rafe <3 (Also, please lmk if tags aren't working!)

synopsis: Y/N has always been close to the Cameron family, practically a part of it after years of friendship. Beneath the surface, unspoken feelings simmer between her and Rafe, but neither of them can muster the courage to admit it. When Y/N finally decides to move on, setting her sights on a new man, he’s forced to confront the truth: losing her might cost him more than he ever realized.

warnings: language, angst, drug use (cocaine), alcohol, mention of rehab

wc: 4k+

The days that followed were a blur of beer, late-night adventures, and laughter with the Pogues. You told yourself you were over it, that you didn’t need Rafe’s attitude bringing you down. JJ had become a constant in your life, his arm draped over your shoulder more often than not. However, you still felt an empty hole in your chest.

You supposed you and JJ were a thing now, though you hadn’t put a label on it. He liked showing you off, and you didn’t mind the attention—especially when his lips trailed down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You let him explore your body, but you always stopped things before they went too far.

JJ didn’t say much about it, but you could tell he was frustrated. Still, he didn’t push you, which you appreciated.

A few nights later, you were sprawled across the couch with the Pogues, laughing as Sarah flailed her arms during a particularly dramatic game of charades. Her phone buzzed rapidly on the table beside you, but she didn’t notice.

“Sarah!” you called, grabbing her phone. “Your dad is blowing up your phone!”

The carefree energy in the room shifted as Sarah snatched her phone from your hands. Her brows furrowed as she read through the missed calls and texts. “Shit…” she muttered, worry creeping into her voice.

“What’s wrong?” Kiara asked, the concern spreading to everyone else.

“My dad can’t get in touch with Rafe,” Sarah said, her tone uneasy. “He’s out of town and freaking out.”

“Is Rafe okay?” you asked, your stomach twisting with sudden anxiety.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Sarah said quickly, but her eyes darted to the screen again. You could tell she wasn’t being entirely honest. “I just need to check on him. I’ll be back soon.” She grabbed her keys and hurried out the door.

You sat there, staring at the spot where Sarah had been. Pulling out your phone, you opened your text thread with Rafe. It had been five days since you’d last heard from him.

Are you okay? you typed, hesitating for only a second before hitting send.

The screen remained blank, no reply. With a heavy sigh, you tucked your phone back into your pocket and turned back to the group.

“I’m sure everything is fine,” JJ said softly, brushing your hair aside to kiss your cheek. He pulled you closer, offering comfort, but it didn’t reach the pit of unease growing in your chest.

“Yeah…” you mumbled, trying to believe him. But your mind was elsewhere.

All you could think about was Rafe.

-

“Rafe?” Sarah’s voice echoed through the house as she stepped inside. The space was dark and suffocatingly quiet, save for the faint thrum of music coming from down the hall. She reached for the light switch, illuminating the chaos around her—Rafe’s belongings strewn across the house like an abandoned battleground.

As she moved into the kitchen, her stomach twisted. Empty liquor bottles were tipped over on the island, surrounded by half-smoked joints and cigarette butts. She frowned, fighting the wave of dread rising in her chest.

“Rafe?” she called out again, louder this time, as she ventured deeper into the house. Her sandals crunched against the sticky floor. The music grew louder as she approached the master bedroom, the sound of heavy metal shaking the walls. It was a genre so foreign to Rafe that it made her pause.

Reaching for the handle, Sarah opened the door slowly, peeking inside. The sight before her made her heart drop.

Rafe sat slumped over his dresser, shirtless, his jeans undone and his hair disheveled. A half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels stood beside him, its sticky contents dripping down the side. He sniffed at the surface of the dresser, the residue of white powder glaring under the dim light.

“Rafe…” Sarah whispered, stepping in to lower the volume on the stereo. The silence that followed was heavy. “I thought you quit,” she said, her voice trembling as she fought back tears. Seeing him like this—broken, lost, a shadow of the brother she thought she’d gotten back—was almost unbearable.

Rafe didn’t look at her. Instead, he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging. “Why’d you do it, Sarah?” he asked, his voice hoarse and low.

“D-Do what?” she stammered, blinking back tears.

He didn’t respond immediately, focusing instead on organizing another line of cocaine with unsteady hands.

“Dad’s worried,” she said, trying to keep her composure. “He told me to check on you. Rafe, what’s wrong? Why are you doing this? Y/N said you’d been acting weird, but I—”

“Y/N…” he interrupted bitterly, spitting out your name like it burned his tongue. “That’s the problem, Sarah.”

Sarah froze, her stomach tightening as Rafe finally turned to look at her. His bloodshot eyes were sunken, the pain etched deep into his face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Why’d you hook Y/n up with JJ?” He asked, his voice breaking. “You knew—” He inhaled sharply, as if bracing himself. “You knew I fucking liked her, Sarah! You knew I…”

He trailed off, choking on his words.

Sarah’s lip quivered as she stared at him, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“You know I love her,” Rafe admitted, his voice barely audible as he crumbled to the floor. His back hit the edge of the bed, and he buried his face in his hands. The weight of those words hung heavy in the air. For so long, he’d buried the truth, but now it was out, raw and unfiltered.

Sarah knelt beside him, pulling him into her arms. “Rafe…” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. You never told me…”

Rafe shook his head, his body trembling as he sobbed. “It doesn’t matter. She’s with him now,” he said, his voice cracking. “I ruined everything. I treated her like shit, Sarah. She’s never going to forgive me. Never.”

Sarah held him tighter, her heart breaking for him. She didn’t know what to say, so she just let him cry. His sobs eventually softened, the exhaustion of the past few days finally catching up to him.

She helped him into bed, pulling the covers over him as he drifted into a deep, uneasy sleep. His breathing evened out, the rise and fall of his chest steadying. Sarah lingered for a moment, watching her brother in the dim light. He looked so fragile, so unlike the Rafe she grew up with.

Once she was certain he was asleep, she quietly left the room, leaving the door cracked open behind her. She pulled out her phone and dialed Ward, holding it to her ear as she began to clean up the kitchen.

“Yeah, he’s okay now,” she said, responding to Ward’s worried question. “I’m letting him sleep it off. I’ll get rid of the drugs and clean up the place, but… he’s not okay, Dad. He’s really not.” Her voice broke, but she steadied herself, wiping away a tear.

Ward’s response was short but decisive. “I’ll be on the next flight out.”

Hanging up, Sarah continued to clean, throwing away bottles and sweeping up the debris of her brother’s downward spiral. She was scrubbing the counter when her phone buzzed. The screen lit up with your photo, your name glowing brightly.

Sarah hesitated, her hand hovering over the phone. She sighed deeply before answering. “Hey…” she said softly, already knowing this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.

You glanced at JJ, passed out on the couch across the room. His frustration earlier had been palpable—trying and failing to get you to sleep with him yet again. But how could you? Your mind was elsewhere, consumed with worry for Rafe. JJ had finally given up and flopped down, his snores starting almost instantly.

You scoffed, clutching your phone tighter in your hand. If JJ truly cared about you, he wouldn’t be pressuring you when you were clearly preoccupied. He wouldn’t be making this about himself. The analog clock on the wall read 2:13 a.m., and each unanswered ring on the phone made your anxiety climb higher.

Finally, Sarah’s soft voice came through. “Hey…”

“Sarah!” you exclaimed, standing up abruptly. “What’s going on? Is Rafe okay?”

There was a long pause, and her hesitation made your stomach drop. “Uhm…” Her voice cracked, and you knew.

“Sarah, what is it?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Yes and no,” she finally said. “He… he relapsed.”

The weight of those words hit you like a freight train. You sank back down into the chair as tears blurred your vision. “Fuck…” you whispered, your voice breaking. You wiped at your face, but the tears kept coming. “I knew something was wrong. I tried, Sarah. I tried to get him to talk to me, but he just—”

“Y/N,” Sarah interrupted, her voice urgent but soft. “Can you just come over? I think he needs you right now.”

Her words stopped you in your tracks. “Me? Why would he need me?”

“Please,” she pleaded, ignoring your question.

You didn’t need to hear more. “I’m on my way,” you said, grabbing your keys and heading out the door.

When you arrived at Rafe’s house, the dim light spilling out from the kitchen was the only sign of life. You stumbled inside to find Sarah sweeping up broken glass, the remnants of Rafe’s spiral.

“Where is he?” you asked, your voice breathless.

“He’s sleeping,” Sarah replied, her tone weary. She leaned against the counter and set the broom aside. “My dad’s flying back in the morning.”

You hesitated, watching her carefully. “Do you know what happened? Why does he… why does he need me?”

Sarah sighed deeply, dropping onto one of the barstools at the island. “I think I might’ve messed up,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

She hesitated, her eyes darting to the floor. “Rafe… he…” She trailed off, struggling to find the words.

“He what, Sarah?” you snapped, your patience wearing thin. “Just say it!”

Sarah’s gaze shot up to meet yours, her voice breaking as she blurted out, “He loves you, okay?!”

Your heart stopped. The air left the room. “What?” you whispered, your voice shaky.

Sarah softened, guilt etched across her face. “He loves you, Y/N. And I didn’t know… I didn’t know how much. I thought it was just some crush. He never made a move, so I figured he didn’t care. I thought setting you up with JJ would be fun, but I-” She sighed, her words tumbling over each other.

“Sarah, stop,” you said, cutting her off. She was spiraling, and you could barely keep up with her frantic explanations. “It’s not your fault.”

The room fell silent, and her words hung heavy in the air. Rafe loved you. He always had. And you—stupid, oblivious you—had missed it.

Sarah studied you for a moment, her tear-filled eyes softening. “Do you love him?” she asked quietly.

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek.

Her lips curved into a brief, sad smile as she wiped at her own tears. “Go to him,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what’s going to happen when my dad gets back. He’ll probably send him off to rehab again, but… he needs you right now.”

You gave her a small, grateful smile, your heart hammering in your chest as you stood. Sarah returned to her cleaning, giving you the space you needed.

Rafe’s bedroom door creaked softly as you pushed it open, slipping inside. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlights outside. Your gaze landed on him, sprawled across the bed. He looked so vulnerable, so unlike the confident and composed Rafe you’d always known. His chest rose and fell steadily, his lips slightly parted. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead, and his hair was a disheveled mess.

Your heart ached as you stepped closer. You could see the toll the past few days had taken on him—the flushed cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes, the faint tremor in his hand even as he slept.

Carefully, you slid into bed beside him, your weight barely shifting the mattress. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. His grip tightened instinctively, and you smiled softly, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“I love you, Rafe,” you whispered, your voice trembling. You didn’t know if he could hear you, but it didn’t matter. For the first time, you let yourself say the words out loud.

And for the first time in days, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Your eyes fluttered open to the early morning sun peeking through the blinds. The air was heavy, a mix of stale whiskey and regret clinging to the room. You turned your head slightly, finding Rafe curled into you. For someone usually so imposing, he looked impossibly small, trembling as the aftershocks of withdrawal rippled through his body.

“Rafe?” you whispered, brushing the damp strands of hair from his forehead. His cheek was flushed under your palm, warm and slick with sweat.

“It’s freezing…” he mumbled, though his skin burned with fever.

You frowned, heart aching at the sight of him. “Come on, let’s get you in the shower,” you murmured gently.

Helping him out of bed proved to be a challenge. He groaned as you maneuvered him upright, his body heavy and uncoordinated, but you were determined. Once you were in the bathroom you carefully peeled his jeans off, leaving him in his boxers, before guiding him toward the shower.

The sound of the water rushing into the tub filled the space. You adjusted the temperature until it was lukewarm—cool enough to help his fever but not cold enough to make him shiver. As soon as Rafe stepped under the spray, he slumped to the floor of the tub with a heavy groan, his knees drawn up, arms resting limply on them.

You perched on the closed toilet lid, keeping an eye on him. He looked utterly spent, the water coursing over his fevered skin, plastering his messy hair to his forehead. You pulled out your phone to find a text from Sarah.

Dad’s flight is delayed. Won’t make it until tonight.

You exhaled in quiet relief. At least you had more time to be here with Rafe before Ward arrived and took over.

Can you bring me a liquid IV? I’ve got him in the shower, you texted back.

Minutes later, there was a soft knock on the bathroom door. You opened it just enough to see Sarah holding a glass. She handed it to you, her brows furrowed with worry. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s coming down,” you said, taking the glass from her. “He’s got a bit of a fever, but I think he’ll be okay.”

Sarah bit her lip but nodded. “Okay… I’ll make some breakfast,” she said quietly.

“Thanks, Sarah. We’ll be out soon,” you assured her, closing the door again.

You turned back to Rafe, who hadn’t moved from his spot on the shower floor. His shoulders were hunched, the water cascading down his back. Slowly, you crouched by the tub and opened the shower door.

“Rafey,” you coaxed gently, holding the glass out. “I need you to drink this. It’ll help, okay?”

He lifted his eyes to meet yours, glassy and tired, but he obediently took the glass with trembling hands. You guided it to his lips, helping him sip slowly. It took a few minutes, but he managed to finish it, and you set the empty glass aside with a soft smile.

“Good job,” you said softly, brushing your fingers against his damp hair.

Rafe’s voice broke through the quiet. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he rasped.

You shook your head, crouching closer. “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“I fucked up,” he sighed, his head dipping forward.

“No, Rafe, I did.” You bit your lip, your voice trembling as you confessed. “I should’ve told you a long time ago… that I love you.”

His head snapped up, his bloodshot blue eyes locking onto yours. “You what?” His voice cracked, almost disbelieving.

You nodded, tears threatening to spill. “I love you, Rafe. And I’m so sorry I didn’t realize sooner. I should’ve known something was wrong. I should’ve been there for you…”

Rafe stared at you, his body frozen as your words sank in. Every chaotic thought in his mind came to a halt, silenced by the sheer weight of your confession. Before either of you could second-guess the moment, he reached out, his strong hand pulling you into the shower with him.

“Rafe—!” you gasped as the water soaked through your clothes, but your protest died on your lips as his mouth found yours.

The kiss was soft yet desperate, his lips trembling against yours, the weight of unspoken years pouring into the moment. It took you a second to process what was happening, but then you melted into him, snaking an arm around his neck and tangling your fingers in his damp hair.

Every problem, every heartache, every unanswered question disappeared as his hands slid up your back, anchoring you to him. He kissed you like you were the air he needed to breathe, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself forget the world outside.

When the kiss finally broke, you were both breathless. His blue eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your chest ache. Your mascara ran in streaks down your cheeks, and strands of wet hair clung to your face, but none of it mattered.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but steady.

You smiled through your tears, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “I love you too, Rafe.”

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not Ward, not Sarah, not the mistakes or the pain. Just you and Rafe, tangled together, the water washing away everything but the promise of a new beginning.

You and Sarah spent the day nursing Rafe back to health. Between making sure he ate and keeping him hydrated, most of your time was spent curled up with him on the couch. He gravitated toward your warmth, his head resting on your shoulder as Adventure Time played softly on the TV. His apologies spilled out at regular intervals, at least once every thirty minutes, as though they were on a timer.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured for what felt like the hundredth time, his voice barely above a whisper.

You ran your fingers gently through his hair, offering a soft smile. “Rafey, it’s okay. We’ve already forgiven you.”

Sarah chimed in from the kitchen, “She’s right. We just want you to focus on getting better.”

But no matter how much reassurance you both gave him, Rafe couldn’t seem to forgive himself. His relapse haunted him—forcing his dad to cut a business trip short, the anger he’d unleashed on you, the guilt over falling back into old habits. He swore up and down he’d never touch cocaine again, especially now that he had you, but addiction wasn’t that simple. You knew the moment Ward arrived, he would take charge of the situation.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room as you snuggled deeper into Rafe’s arms. Between soft kisses and whispered promises of a future together, you tried to savor the quiet moments. In the kitchen, Sarah hummed softly as she worked on dinner, the smell of roasted potatoes and chicken wafting through the house.

Then, the front door slammed open. The calm shattered as Ward’s heavy footsteps echoed through the house.

“Where is he?” Ward’s voice boomed, sharp with frustration and worry.

Sarah stepped into the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “On the couch with Y/N,” she said quietly, her eyes darting to you and Rafe.

Rafe tensed beside you. You placed a comforting hand on his chest, but he was already pushing the blanket off and rising to his feet.

“Hey, Dad,” he said softly, his voice thick with shame.

Ward’s expression was a mixture of relief and disappointment as his eyes scanned his son. Without a word, he crossed the room and pulled Rafe into a firm embrace. Rafe stiffened at first but then melted into it, his head dropping to Ward’s shoulder.

“Let’s go talk,” Ward said gruffly, his hand gripping Rafe’s shoulder as he guided him toward the master bedroom.

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving you and Sarah in heavy silence. You sat down at the kitchen island, pulling Rafe’s blanket around your shoulders, the lingering warmth proving to be a poor substitute for him.

“Ward’s going to send him away, isn’t he?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sarah sighed as she plated some food and slid it in front of you. “Probably,” she admitted, sitting across from you with her own plate. “I’m sorry about all of this.”

You frowned. “Why are you apologizing?” you asked, absentmindedly poking at a roasted potato.

Sarah hesitated before speaking. “I should’ve known you two were in love. How could I have been so blind? If I hadn’t pushed JJ on you, maybe none of this would’ve happened. This is all my fault.”

You shook your head and reached across the table to take her hands. “Sarah, this isn’t your fault. It’s not your job to play matchmaker. Maybe Rafe and I just ignored what was right in front of us for too long.”

She gave you a small, sheepish smile. “So… you don’t really like JJ?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “JJ’s fine. Kind of a dick though. There’s no connection there. Not like what I feel for Rafe.”

Sarah grinned, her eyes brightening a little. “Maybe one day we’ll be sisters,” she teased.

You chuckled. “Let’s get through tonight first.”

The bedroom door creaked open, and both of you turned as Ward made his way into the kitchen. His expression was firm but calm. “I’m taking him to treatment first thing in the morning,” he announced.

Your heart clenched, but you nodded, understanding. This was what Rafe needed, even if it hurt to let him go.

Ward glanced between you and Sarah before his features softened slightly. “Sarah, why don’t you and I spend the night at Tanneyhill? Give Rafe and Y/N some time alone.”

Sarah smiled and hugged you tightly before gathering her things. “Thank you, Mr. C,” you said, your voice filled with gratitude.

He gave you a small nod. “Call if you need anything,” he said before ushering Sarah out the door.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what would likely be one of the hardest nights of your life. With the house quiet again, you made your way down the hall to Rafe’s bedroom.

You knocked softly before opening the door. Rafe was already in bed, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, but when he saw you, a small smile tugged at his lips. He patted the space beside him, inviting you to lay with him.

Climbing into bed, you turned to face him, resting your head on his chest. “How are you feeling?” you asked gently.

“Better. A lot better,” he said, wrapping an arm around you. His smile faltered, replaced by a frown. “But my dad’s not going to let me off easy.”

“It’s okay, Rafey,” you reassured him, lacing your fingers with his. “Take the time you need to get better. I’ll be here when you get back.”

He turned his head to look at you, his blue eyes searching yours for any trace of doubt. “You promise?”

You smiled softly and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Cross my heart.”

A genuine smile broke across his face, something that was rare to find in Rafe Cameron. Holding him close, you let the rhythm of his breathing lull you into a sense of calm. Whatever came next, you’d face it together.

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[youleftmenochoicebut]

SANTA BABY — remus lupin.

SUMMARY. — it’s your second christmas with your baby girl and Remus dresses up as santa.

PAIRING. — dad!remus lupin x mom!reader

WARNINGS. — fluff, some suggestiveness at the end (because im kinda scared to write smut yet)

A/N. — merry christmas to those who celebrate!

“mommy, where’s dada?” your two and a half year old asks, her small body wrapped around your middle like a koala bear, as you sit in front of the fireplace. it’s 9pm, already past Brielle’s bedtime, but you’re letting her stay up late tonight. it’s christmas eve after all. your friends have left already, the kitchen’s been cleaned and Brielle’s been more than excited to finally get her presents.

“he’s getting more wood for the fire, bug.” the lie slips past your lips flawlessly, your fingers combing through your toddler’s hair, and the fact that it’s the exact same color and texture as Remus’ still stuns you to this day. the truth is you decided it would be a fun idea for Remus to dress up as Santa Claus and give your baby girl her gifts that way. although the more you think about it now, the more hesitant you are.

Brielle just nods, nuzzling her head into the crook of neck, and you sigh contently. not much time passes before you hear the backdoor bang, the loud stomping getting closer, and Remus’ figure appears in the doorway. for how tall he is, being almost 6’5, he’s too skinny (at least that’s what you always tell him), so he has to fill out the Santa costume with some pillows for the belly to look big and round. you chuckle when you notice him, nudging Brielle softly.

“ho, ho, ho!” Remus exclaims, making his voice intentionally lower and he pats his fake stomach, coming closer. “i’ve come to see if there are any good kids here, in this fine house?”

Brielle giggles, her eyes shining brighter when she slides off your lap and skips over to him, tugging at his pant leg. “daddy silly!” she shrieks sweetly, jumping in place as she waits for Remus to lean down to her level. “up, dada!”

“well, i don’t know where your dad is, kiddo, i’m here to bring you your presents!” he keeps up his act like a professional, the smile on your face widens, and you can see a hint of confusion on your girl’s face.

“hmm… i like presents!” Brielle smiles, showing off her teeth, and tries to pull Remus over to the christmas tree. “mama, look! it’s Santa!”

“oh, wow, Brie. no way.” you gasp, chuckling along with your toddler’s enthusiasm, and you watch the scene unfold.

Brielle and Remus kneel down by the christmas tree and your husband reaches for the velvety santa’s sack, and pulls out a couple of neatly packed boxes. he puts them on display, in a row, in front of your baby girl who excitedly waves her hands. she wastes no time reaching for the first package, eagerly ripping the wrapping paper off and squealing happily at what she sees. it’s a toddler sized broomstick, the exact same as Harry’s just smaller, because she’s been wanting that ever since she saw him fly around in the summer. with James’ close assistance, if Lily ever asks, because of course a six year old can’t fly around on a broomstick on his own.

it doesn’t take much time before Brielle starts rubbing her eyes, the events of today catching up to her, and you know you have to step in. you scoop her up in your arms, winking at Remus with a small smile, and as she clings to you, you slowly go upstairs. she’s started sleeping in her own room just a few months back, when you decided she was big enough to have her bed in the separate room on the other side of the corridor, and she still sometimes sleeps with you. you can’t help it, you just love having your baby girl close to you.

this night though, you go straight to her bedroom, swiftly changing her into her red christmasy pajamas. you settle her down in her princess bed, pulling the sheets up to her chin, and you step away, pretty sure she’s already asleep. you’re almost at the door when you hear a soft voice call out to you.

“mama, goodnight kiss.” Brielle whispers, her eyes remaining closed as she snuggles up to her favorite dog plushie (it’s the one Sirius gave you guys when she was born). you smile, and quickly rush over, leaning in to plant a kiss on her forehead, nose, then both cheeks.

“goodnight, bug.” you murmur, and leave the room, a yawn escaping your lips as you walk downstairs to find Remus lounging on the couch, still in the Santa costume.

“well, hello there, Mr. Claus.” you say playfully, slumping down next to him, and your eyes are set on his face, covered mostly by the long fake beard. “i haven’t gotten my presents tonight.” your lips pouting as you reach out, putting your hand against his chest.

“that’s because you’ve been a very bad girl this year, dovey.” Remus whispers, his large hands grasping at your hip and with completely zero trouble he swooshes you into his lap, making you straddle him. you rest your arms on his torso, in a way to hold up as well, and you scoff.

“hey! i thought Santa Claus was supposed to be nice ‘n all.” you mumble, hitting his shoulder as you feel him squeeze his hands on your bum. you raise your eyebrows at him, and as much tired as he seems, you can see the hunger in his eyes.

“then i guess i have to take this off, cause i don’t plan on being nice to you tonight.” his voice is raspy and it makes a shiver run down your spine, and you throw your head back when he puts his lips on your neck.

“no, no, no. the costume stays on.” you grunt, and the laugh that escapes him is so heartful is wrecks his body, so you glance down at him with a serious expression. “oh, i’m not kidding.”

without responding, his hands wander back up, then down, this time deeping into your pants, and with one swift movement he tears your panties apart and off of you. you glare at him, shaking your head, and you shift at the feeling of the slightly itching material of your pants against your bare womanhood.

“i liked those ones-“ your complain is cut off by his lips pushing against yours forcefully, his tongue delving into your mouth. after you pull away, a sting of saliva connects your lips to his, and you blink hazily.

“Santa’s gonna buy you new ones.” he breathes out, a smirk appearing on his face before he easily flips you over onto your back, hovering over you. “actually, a lot of new ones.”

[kathlare]

slim pickins

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie and Alex collaborate late into the night in a London studio, channeling raw emotions into their songwriting.

Wordcount: 1.0 k

Warnings: just fluff

June 21st, 2023 - London, United Kingdom

Amelie pulled the oversized hoodie tighter around her as she paced the dimly lit studio in London. It was nearing midnight, the kind of late hour when exhaustion and creativity blurred into a strange, electric haze. Her hair was a messy bun atop her head, her face bare of makeup, and the edges of her nerves frayed just enough to make her feel raw and open.

Alex Wolff sat cross-legged on the couch, his guitar resting casually on his knee as he strummed absentmindedly. His dark curls fell into his face, and he kept pushing them back with the heel of his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration. His shirt was wrinkled, and he looked like he hadn't slept properly in days—likely true. They both thrived in this chaos.

—Okay, hear me out,— Alex said, his voice breaking the silence. —What if the line about 'all the douchebags in my phone' comes earlier? Like, hit them with that gut-punch right away.—

Amelie stopped pacing, the notepad in her hands filled with scribbled lines, half-formed ideas, and the occasional angry doodle. She raised an eyebrow at him. —You just want people to know I’ve dated douchebags before the first chorus.—

Alex smirked, leaning back. —I mean, it’s honest, isn’t it?—

She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. —Fine, maybe you're right. But it needs to hit harder. Like...— she chewed on the cap of her pen, thinking —...what if it’s more sarcastic? I don’t want to sound bitter; I want to sound like I’m over it, you know?—

Alex raised his eyebrows. —Are you over it, though?—

Amelie glared at him, the kind of glare that could cut glass, but she didn't answer. She just scribbled something else in her notebook and sat on the edge of the piano bench.

—Okay, fine. I’ll stop,— Alex said, holding his hands up in surrender. —But for the record, I think sarcasm is perfect for you. Like a defense mechanism wrapped in glitter.—

—Wow,— Amelie said, deadpan. —Did you get that from a fortune cookie, or are you just naturally this profound?—

—Naturally profound,— Alex shot back, grinning. He started strumming a new chord progression, something upbeat but with an edge.

Amelie listened, nodding along as she hummed the melody under her breath. The lyrics they’d pieced together so far hung in the air, and she could feel the weight of them pressing against her chest.

Slim pickins, if I can’t have the one I love...

Her voice faltered as the line echoed in her head. The one I love. It was a simple phrase, but it felt like a grenade. Because no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew exactly who it referred to. And it wasn’t Rodrigo.

Rodrigo had been... perfect. Kind, funny, supportive. He’d been everything she thought she needed after the whirlwind of Lando. But even now, weeks after their breakup, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something had always been missing. That part of her heart was still stuck in Monaco, or wherever the hell Lando Norris was these days.

—Amelie,— Alex said, pulling her back to the present. His voice was softer now, the teasing edge gone. —You okay?—

She blinked, realizing she’d been staring at the keys of the piano, her fingers frozen in place. —Yeah,— she said quickly. Too quickly. —Just tired, I guess.—

Alex didn’t push, but she could tell he didn’t buy it. He never did.

They worked in silence for a while after that, the only sounds the quiet hum of the guitar and the occasional scratch of her pen against paper. But Amelie’s mind kept drifting, her thoughts circling back to Lando like a moth to a flame.

She hated how much he still affected her. Hated that even after all this time, after everything, she couldn’t just let it go.

—Alright,— Alex said suddenly, breaking the silence. —Let’s take a break before you overthink yourself into oblivion.—

Amelie laughed, grateful for the distraction. —What, you don’t think this is my most productive state?—

—Not when you’re staring at the piano like it insulted your family,— Alex said, standing up and stretching. —Come on. Tea? Wine? Something stronger?—

—Tea’s fine,— she said, standing up and following him to the tiny kitchenette in the corner of the studio.

As Alex busied himself with the kettle, Amelie leaned against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. —Do you ever feel like... no matter what you do, you’re just stuck?—

Alex glanced at her, his expression serious now. —You mean creatively? Or...?—

—Everything,— she said, her voice barely above a whisper. —Like you’re trying to move on, but something keeps pulling you back.—

He didn’t answer right away, just poured the hot water into two mugs and handed her one. —I think that’s just part of being human,— he said finally. —But if it’s about a person...—

—It’s not,— she said quickly, too quickly.

Alex raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. —Okay. But for what it’s worth, you deserve someone who doesn’t make you feel stuck. Someone who makes you feel free.—

Amelie swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over her. She sipped her tea, the warmth grounding her, and tried to push the thoughts of Lando to the back of her mind.

They returned to the studio a few minutes later, and the energy shifted. The late hour, the tea, the music—it all blurred together as they poured themselves into the song.

By the time they finished, the first rays of dawn were creeping through the windows. Alex leaned back on the couch, looking at her with a tired but satisfied smile.

—That’s it,— he said. —That’s the one.—

Amelie nodded, her heart full and heavy at the same time. The lyrics felt like a release, a way to say everything she couldn’t put into words.

As she packed up her things, Alex reached out and squeezed her shoulder. —Hey. Whatever’s going on in that messy little head of yours, you’re gonna be okay. You know that, right?—

She smiled, a real one this time. —Yeah,— she said. —I know.—

But as she walked out of the studio and into the cool morning air, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was lying to herself.

[vinylfoxbooks]

25 Days of Jegumas | Day 1 | Day 21 December 22 - Santa Claus | @noblehouseofgay | wc: 626

There was one part of Christmas that Regulus was never quite able to get a hang of understanding. He still doesn’t, not even with his son sitting on the lap of the jolly-looking man with a fake beard and branded in all garish red and white that probably is going to chainsmoke out the back end of the mall as soon as he gets on his break and listing off all of the random things that he wants for Christmas -- Regulus thinks that it’s rather late for them to be here, getting present ideas just before the actual day happens but whatever his partner and son wants -- while James takes a couple pictures of them. 

Santa Claus, what a weird thing. Who likes the idea of a fat man wearing garishly bright clothing sneaking into your house in the middle of the night with a giant red sack. That sounds like all of the markers of a crime. And the idea that he goes up and down the chimney -- which, what house has chimneys that are used or even open up to the sky anymore? -- without getting any soot on him or getting stuck because chimneys aren’t all that large, especially with a giant bag full of hard presents? It just doesn’t sound enjoyable. 

He was almost freaked out by the story when he first heard of who Santa Claus was, staring at Sirius in abject horror as his brother told the stories with stars in his eyes at the idea. He understands, now, that Santa Claus isn’t real or anything and is instead played by very tired parents in the middle of the night but… what kid would find joy in the idea of that. Shouldn’t it freak them out? 

Regulus wonders if any of these children crying when they get to the man in the costume are scared of a strange man that they’re being told to sit with or if they’re scared of the stories. He doubts the latter is the case for most of them, if not all. James tried to describe it to him, using buzzwords that Regulus can’t relate to like ‘favourite uncle that always brings cool things’ or ‘the nice grandpa that tells you cool stories and bounces you on his knees’ but it didn’t make anything click for him like they thought it would.

But again, whatever Harry and James wants. And Harry is currently staring up at the costumed man that he’s sitting on with joy and awe and it warms Regulus’ heart. He doesn’t get it, but his son loves the idea of Santa Claus, and perhaps that’s enough for now. Maybe, far in the future when Harry is a teenager, they can talk about it and Regulus can ask why he loved the idea of Santa so much. 

James is helping Harry off of the man’s lap -- which also freaks out Regulus, he’d rather not watch his son sit on the lap of a complete stranger who probably doesn’t even have to go through any in depth background checks -- and thanking the man and the workers dressed as elves with shoes too big. Then they’re making their way over to where Regulus is standing with a couple bags in his hands, “Ready to go?”

Regulus nods, moving all of the bags to one hand and grabbing at James’ free one, “Whenever you are.” 

As they’re walking, Harry works himself around James so he’s holding both of their hands between the two of them, “Did you see me and Santa papa?” 

Regulus smiles down at his son, “I did, was he as nice as you thought?”

“Even nicer!” Harry cheers.

“That’s good, little doe.” Regulus hums, “I’m glad that you got to see him this year.”

Day 23

[mrsfancyferrari]

Christmas Ball

Summary: CS55 + fake dating for a Christmas party/ball

Song: Michael Bublé - White Christmas

Author’s note: I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 4.8k

You always found the holidays to be a bittersweet time, a swirling mix of joy and nostalgia that danced through the air like the flurries of snow outside your window. This year, however, felt particularly strange.

The twinkling lights of the city and the festive decorations around your apartment offered a sense of cheer that somehow faded against the backdrop of your best friend Carlos's impending departure from Ferrari.

The air was thick with anticipation, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something big was about to change.

"Carlos, are you sure you want to do this?" You asked, trying to hide your concern behind a playful smirk.

It was the day before the big Christmas party, and Carlos had approached you with an unusual proposition: to be his fake girlfriend for the event.

He leaned back against the wall of your small kitchen, arms crossed, and gave you that charming grin you could never resist.

"Come on, you know the guys at the team will never let me live it down if I show up alone. They've been teasing me for months about being single. I can't go in there and give them the satisfaction."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but chuckle. Carlos was right; the engineers and team members could be relentless. It was as if they took pleasure in reminding him that he was one of the most talented racers in the world but somehow couldn’t manage to keep a girlfriend.

"But a fake girlfriend? Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, your family will be there too. They’ll want to know more about me."

“Exactly! You know them already. You’ll fit right in.” He took a step closer, and his expression turned earnest.

“Please, I can’t do this alone. It’ll just be for one night. Just act like we’re a couple, and we’ll get through it. I promise you won’t regret it.”

You hesitated, glancing around your kitchen as if the utensils might offer some clarity. “What if they ask us about our ‘relationship’? You know, like how we met or something?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “We’ll figure it out as we go. I trust you. And you’re good at this kind of stuff. Remember that time we pretended to be a couple at my cousin’s wedding?”

“That was one time! And we were twelve!” you exclaimed, laughing at the memory of young Carlos and you dressed up in ill-fitting suits and dresses, giggling as you attempted to dance.

“Exactly! And we pulled it off!” His voice was filled with enthusiasm. “You’re the only one I trust to do this with me. Plus, it’ll be fun! Just think of it as an adventure.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his infectious excitement. Deep down, you knew you would never say no to him. The truth was, despite the outrageous nature of the request, you found the idea of pretending to be his girlfriend strangely appealing.

Maybe it was the excitement of the party itself or perhaps the thrill of being in such close proximity to someone you cared about so deeply.

“Fine. But only for one night. And don’t think you can make me wear a silly outfit or anything.”

Carlos clapped his hands together, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Deal! You’ll look amazing no matter what you wear. I'll pick you up, and we’ll go in style.”

The night of the party arrived, and you stood in front of your full-length mirror, adjusting the shimmering red dress that hugged your curves perfectly.

The color reflected the team’s colors, a deep and vibrant shade that made you feel festive but elegant. The twinkling lights decorating the streets outside seemed to echo the excitement thrumming in your heart. It was a night meant for glamour, and you couldn’t wait to step into that world—especially since Carlos would be your partner in crime.

You glanced at the clock. He was late, and you felt the familiar flutter of nerves in your stomach. Was it silly to feel anxious? This was supposed to be fun.

You had agreed to play the role of Carlos's fake girlfriend for the evening, a little charade to help him navigate the intricacies of a farewell party filled with fans, colleagues, and those who were eager to get a word in about his future.

Just as you were beginning to worry, you heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. Your heart skipped a beat. Moments later, Carlos knocked on your door, and the sound reverberated through your chest.

“Hey! Ready to steal the show?” he called out, his voice filled with that familiar charm that always made you smile.

You opened the door to find him standing there in a crisp black suit, his dark hair styled just right, and his smile wide enough to melt anyone’s heart.

The sight of him took your breath away. “Wow,” he said, eyes widening as he took you in. “You look incredible.”

You felt your cheeks flush at his compliment, the warmth creeping up as you looked down at your dress, then back up at him. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Carlos stepped inside and took your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. “Shall we?”

He led you to his car, opening the door and helping you in with a grace that made your heart flutter. The drive to the venue was filled with light banter about the party.

“I can’t believe how many people are going to be there just for me,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly with stress.

You squeezed his hand, trying to ground him. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right beside you,” you assured, your voice steady.

“Thanks, cariño,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. “I picked the right girlfriend,” he joked, and you laughed, the sound mingling with the excitement in the air.

When you finally arrived at the event, Carlos helped you out of the car, shielding you from the flashing lights of the paparazzi. “Let’s go and show them how it’s done,” he said, offering his arm.

You looped yours through his, the gesture feeling surprisingly natural, as if you had done this a thousand times before.

As you entered the building, the atmosphere enveloped you like a warm embrace. A crowd of important people milled around, dressed in their finest, and the air was filled with laughter and conversation. You felt a mixture of nerves and excitement; it was hard to believe you were part of this glamorous world for the night.

Carlos greeted guests with confidence, exchanging pleasantries and smiles, and you stayed close by his side, waiting for the moment he would introduce you or for someone to inquire about who you were.

“Carlos!” a voice called, and you turned to see Charles approach, his face lighting up at the sight of Carlos. “Mate, we’re going to miss you.”

Carlos laughed, patting his friend on the back. “Thank you! I’m excited for the new adventure, but I’m really going to miss you guys.”

“Who’s this?” Charles asked, turning to you with curiosity.

Carlos glanced at you, a playful grin on his face. “This is my girlfriend. We’ve been together for a few months now.”

You felt a slight thrill at being introduced, even if it was under the guise of a relationship that was more a performance than reality. “Nice to meet you,” you said, offering your hand.

“Likewise! Good to see Carlos has someone like you by his side.” Charles winked and moved on, leaving you both with a hint of laughter in the air.

Carlos leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “That was easier than I expected.”

You smiled, “Just wait until the press gets a hold of this. They’ll eat it up.”

“I know,” he said, a hint of worry crossing his features. “I just hope it doesn’t get too out of hand.”

You straightened your shoulders, ready to support him. “We’ll handle it together. I’ve got your back.”

The night progressed, and you moved from one conversation to another, Carlos introducing you to various people, and you feigned familiarity, playing your role well. There were moments of laughter, shared stories, and even some touching tributes from his friends that made your heart swell with pride for him.

“You’re doing great,” Carlos said, glancing at you with a reassuring smile. His dark eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and nerves. The way he looked at you made your heart race a little faster.

“I’m just trying to remember my lines,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “What was it again? ‘I’m so proud of my boyfriend’ or ‘Carlos is going to take the racing world by storm’?”

“Definitely the second one,” he laughed. “But you can’t forget the part where you look impressed by my driving skills.”

“Of course, I’ll be your biggest fan tonight,” you replied, adjusting the elegant dress you wore.

Finally, you spotted them. A cluster of warm, welcoming faces, all gathered around a beautifully decorated table. Carlos’s mother, Reyes, a woman with an infectious laugh and a penchant for elegant scarves, was the first to notice your approach. Her eyes lit up as she stood, arms wide open, ready to welcome her son.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, pulling Carlos into a tight embrace. “We’ve been waiting for you! And you must be the lovely girl I’ve heard so much about.”

“Yes, I’m—” you started, but Carlos cut in.

“This is my girlfriend,” he said with an air of confidence, placing a gentle hand on your lower back. “You remember what I told you, right?”

“Of course! It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” Reyes said, turning her attention to you. You couldn’t help but feel her warmth radiating towards you. “Carlos has told us all about you, and I must say, he’s been smitten ever since he met you.”

“Mamá, come on,” Carlos chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as a slight blush crept across his cheeks. “You make it sound like I’m a lovesick puppy.”

You stepped forward, extending your hand for a handshake, but Reyes pulled you into an embrace instead.

The sincerity in her touch gave you a sense of comfort. “We are so excited for you both! We want to hear everything.”

Carlos’s father, a distinguished man with salt-and-pepper hair, stepped forward next. “And what is your name, my dear?”

“It’s Y/N,” you replied, a bit shyly.

“Ah, Y/N,” he repeated, his gaze warm. “Carlos has been lucky to have you by his side. A good partner is invaluable in this world.”

“Thank you, sir,” you replied, feeling the weight of his words. You felt a mix of pride and anxiety; you wanted to impress them but also felt like you were stepping into a role you hadn’t fully prepared for.

Just then, Carlos’s sister, Blanca, chimed in, her curly hair bouncing as she approached. “So, how did you two meet?”

“We’ve actually known each other since childhood,” you explained, your voice steadier now.

“Oh, that’s where I’ve seen you before! You two were always together when you were little,” Reyes added, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Yeah,” Carlos chuckled, his arm subtly wrapping around your waist. “We’ve been through a lot together. It only makes sense for her to be here tonight.”

As the evening progressed, you found yourself in a whirlwind of conversations and laughter, with Carlos’s family treating you like one of their own.

Each kind word from them built your confidence, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being a little out of place.

Later, as the string quartet shifted to a slower melody, Carlos leaned closer to you, his voice low and conspiratorial. “You’re doing amazing,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “I think my family is starting to really like you.”

“Thanks,” you replied, a little breathless. “But you’re the one who’s charming them.”

He chuckled, and you noticed the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, a sign of genuine happiness. “I’m just glad you’re here with me. It would be a lot more nerve-wracking without you.”

You glanced at him, and for a moment, it felt as if the world outside had faded away. You both stood on the periphery of the dance floor, the couples moving gracefully in the dim light, laughter mingling with the sweet strains of music.

“Carlos,” you said softly, “are you really okay with this whole… fake girlfriend thing?”

His expression turned serious, the laughter in his eyes replaced with a warmth that made your heart race. “Honestly? It was supposed to be just a simple arrangement, but I’m enjoying this way more than I thought I would.”

A pang of hope swelled in your chest, but you quickly brushed it aside. “Me too,” you admitted. “But it’s complicated, right? I mean, you’re about to leave for Ferrari, and I—”

He interrupted, his tone earnest. “But I don’t want it to end. Not like this.”

Before you could respond, his sister Blanca waved you over. “Y/N! Come dance with us!”

Carlos gave you a gentle push toward the dance floor. “You should go; they’re waiting for you.”

Reluctantly, you stepped onto the floor, finding a place among Carlos’s family. They welcomed you with open arms, laughter and joy surrounding you as you twirled and swayed to the music.

You felt the weight of your worries lift, if only for a moment, and lost yourself in the rhythm of the night.

You danced freely, letting the music guide your movements. You could feel Bianca’s infectious energy beside you, and together, you lost yourselves in the moment, giggling and twirling under the stars.

From a distance, Carlos watched, his heart swelling as he observed you. You were radiant, carefree, and completely lost in the music. He leaned against a wooden pillar, taking in the sight, when a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“You picked a good one,” said his father, standing beside him with an approving nod. Carlos turned to his dad, a hint of surprise etched on his face.

“Yeah, she’s amazing, isn’t she?” Carlos replied, trying to mask the hint of admiration in his voice. It was true; you had a spark that drew people in, and Carlos felt lucky just to know you.

“Do you really like her?” his dad asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re going to need a good woman by your side when you start this new chapter. You can’t always be the charming bachelor.”

Carlos chuckled lightly, the laughter fading as he thought about the question. Did he like you? It was more than that. You were a friend, but there was something else simmering beneath the surface—a warmth that ignited every time you smiled at him or when you laughed at his jokes.

“Yeah, I do,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s complicated.”

“Life is complicated, son. You don’t have to have it all figured out. Just enjoy the moment,” his father advised, clapping him on the shoulder before drifting away to chat with other guests.

Carlos returned his gaze to the dance floor, watching you sway with Bianca. The two of you were the picture of joy. You glanced over, catching his eye again, and this time, you blew him a kiss, teasingly.

He couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head, his heart skipping a beat.

“Your sister is very energetic,” you said, returning to Carlos after the dance. You brushed a few errant strands of hair from your face, a little breathless from the whirlwind of dancing.

Carlos chuckled, his deep voice reverberating within you. “That’s one way to put it. She’s been practicing her dance moves for weeks, all to show off at my farewell party.”

“Looks like she’s succeeding,” you replied, glancing back at Bianca, who was now attempting an exaggerated salsa move with one of the other guests.

The sight made you laugh. You could hardly keep up with her energy, but you loved how infectious her spirit was.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the party transitioned from laughter to a more subdued warmth.

You felt a slight shiver, not from the cool evening air, but from the warmth radiating between you, a connection that felt both exciting and unnerving.

“So,” he began, his expression shifting slightly as you settled beside him on the bench, “how does it feel to be my fake girlfriend for a night?”

You paused, considering your response. “Weird but natural, if you know what I mean.”

You glanced back at Bianca, who had just twirled around, her skirt flaring out, and you couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

“Natural? Really?” Carlos raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What’s so natural about pretending to be my girlfriend?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I don’t know, it just feels… comfortable? We’ve known each other long enough. It’s not like I’m pretending to be someone I’m not.”

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I feel it too.” He leaned against the wall, folding his arms.

The way the dim lights of the party cast shadows across his face made him look almost ethereal, and your heart did a little flip that you tried to ignore.

“Okay, but you have to admit this is ridiculous,” he continued, still grinning. “We’re just two friends pretending to be in love. What if someone takes us seriously?”

You took a sip of your drink, feeling the coolness slide down your throat. “Who cares? It’s just for tonight. And honestly, I think it might be a little fun.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Fun, huh? So you’re saying you wouldn’t mind me throwing an arm around your shoulder, or maybe… a kiss on the cheek?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone. “What if I’m a terrible kisser?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “I’m sure you’d be fine,” you shot back, teasingly. “And if not, I’ll just call it an act.”

“An act that could end badly,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I suppose I could get used to having my ‘girlfriend’ on my arm tonight.”

As the evening wore on, the laughter and chatter of the party swirled around you. You found yourself slipping into the role with surprising ease.

You chatted with Carlos about everything from childhood memories to your mutual love for terrible rom-coms.

With each passing moment, the line between fake and real began to blur, making you acutely aware of the warmth emanating from him, the way he always seemed to be in tune with your thoughts, the subtle glances that lingered just a second too long.

“Look, we need to act like a couple now,” Carlos said suddenly, his tone shifting as he glanced at a group of partygoers who were eyeing you both. “Hold my hand.”

You raised an eyebrow, taken aback. “What? Now?”

“Just do it!” He reached for your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. You took a deep breath but found yourself lacing your fingers with his. It felt… nice. Comforting, even.

“Wow,” you murmured, unable to hide your surprise. “This is weird.”

“Weird but natural, right?” he quipped, echoing your earlier words. You shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted.

Carlos led you into the crowd, and you could feel the eyes of the party on you. The thrill of being ‘together’ ignited a strange mix of excitement and nervousness in your stomach.

“Just follow my lead,” he says, his voice low and full of playful confidence. You nod, unsure of what to expect.

As you reach the dance floor, the music shifts to a slower rhythm. The lights dim slightly, creating an intimate atmosphere. Carlos’s hand glides to the small of your back, guiding you closer.

You can feel the heat radiating from his body as he locks eyes with you, a spark of something electric passing between you.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s just dancing.”

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, and the world around you blurs into a sea of motion. It’s just you and him, swaying together. You feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the steady beat of his heart mirroring your own.

“See? Not so bad, right?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Maybe,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. You’re both smiling now, caught up in the moment. “But I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Neither can I,” he admits, his expression softening. “But it feels right, doesn’t it?”

Your bodies move in sync, flowing with the music as if it were a language only you two understood. His eyes search yours, searching for a sign, a signal that this isn’t just an act. In this crowded room, the two of you have created a bubble, a space where everything else fades away.

Just then, he dips you, his grip firm yet gentle, and your heart leaps into your throat. You trust him, allowing your body to lean back, supported completely by him.

You can’t help but laugh breathlessly. “Okay, you’re showing off now!”

“Maybe I am,” he grins, bringing you back up slowly. Your faces are so close, your lips almost touching. The air around you thickens, and suddenly, you’re acutely aware of every detail—the warmth of his breath, the way his gaze flickers to your lips and back up to your eyes.

“Carlos,” you start, your voice barely a whisper, the question hanging between you two.

“I know,” he says softly, the playfulness fading. “I feel it too. But… this is fun, right? Just for tonight?”

You swallow hard, the tension rising in your chest. “Yeah, just for tonight,” you confirm, but inside, a part of you is desperate for more.

His hand moves to the small of your back again, pulling you closer, and the world around you fades even further. You lose track of time, caught in the rhythm of the music and the warmth of his presence.

"Do we have to go back?" you murmured, your gaze lingering on his warm brown eyes, the softness of his expression making your heart flutter.

Carlos chuckled softly, the sound sending a warm thrill through you. "I mean, I’m not the host, but I think we’re kind of required to. Speeches and all that," he replied, reluctantly breaking the closeness between you.

He took a deep breath, his fingers lingering on your waist for just a moment longer before he stepped back.

You nodded, feeling a mix of reluctance and excitement. You had entered this arrangement as a favor—a way to help Carlos navigate the complexities of family expectations.

But now, with every shared glance and playful touch, the line between pretend and real began to blur.

As Carlos's father stood up to give his speech, you could see the pride etched on his face, the way his chest swelled with love as he looked at his son.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice rich and steady. "Today, we gather to celebrate not just Carlos’s achievements, but the man he’s become. He has faced challenges with determination, embraced every opportunity with an open heart, and today, I stand before you, proud to call him my son."

A wave of emotion washed over you as you listened. You raised your glass with everyone else, your heart swelling with a mix of pride and an unfamiliar warmth.

Carlos caught your eye, and in that moment, you felt a connection that transcended the confines of your agreement. You were more than just a façade.

You were becoming someone significant in his life.

“To Carlos!” everyone toasted, their voices a harmonious blend of joy and affection. You clinked your glass against his, the sound a sweet reminder of your bond, however unconventional it may have been.

As the applause died down and conversations picked up once more, Carlos turned to you, his expression shifting from celebratory to serious.

"I know this is all a bit pretend, but…” He hesitated, searching your eyes for understanding, the sincerity of his tone causing your heart to race. “I don’t want it to end when the party does."

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. The party was a façade, sure, but the emotions swirling between you felt real. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I mean, this—us,” he gestured between the two of you, “it’s more than just an arrangement for me. I enjoy being around you. You make me feel… I don’t know, alive?”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he looked genuinely vulnerable. “I don’t want you to go back to being just Carlos’s friend or fake girlfriend. I want to see where this can really go.”

Your heart raced at his words, the gravity of the moment pressing down on you. “Carlos, we’ve always had chemistry, haven’t we? It’s just been… complicated.”

“Complicated,” he echoed, his gaze intense. “But it doesn’t have to be.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, breath hitching in your throat.

Carlos leaned in slightly, his voice low, “I mean, maybe we don’t have to pretend anymore. Maybe we could explore whatever this is between us.”

The thought sent a thrill through you, but fear followed closely behind. “What if it gets complicated again?” you asked, trembling slightly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, a hint of uncertainty crossing his features. “But isn’t it worth finding out? I don’t want to leave without knowing what this could be. What we could be.”

You felt the warmth of his hand brush against yours, a spark igniting where your fingers met. The warmth was both electrifying and comforting, and without thinking, you leaned closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Okay,” you whispered, your breath catching as his thumb traced over your knuckles. “Let’s see where this goes.”

His eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and excitement. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, unable to suppress your own smile. “But no salsa dancing. I can’t handle that level of energy.”

Carlos laughed, the sound echoing into the hall. “Deal. I’ll save the salsa for my sister.” He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. “But I can offer something much better.”

You held your breath as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours softly. It was tentative at first, as if he was gauging your response. You kissed him back, the warmth of the fire fading into the background as everything else fell away.

In that moment, everything felt right. The chaos of the party, the looming specter of his departure for Ferrari, and the uncertain future melted away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in a bubble of shared hope and newfound possibility.

As you pulled back, a breathless smile crept across your face. “So, how does it feel to have a real girlfriend?” you teased, feeling a surge of joy.

Carlos grinned, his eyes sparkling. “I think I could get used to this.”

“Let’s just enjoy the moment,” you said softly, echoing his father’s words.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” he agreed, and for the first time, you felt like everything might just be okay after all. . . . .

[callivich]

Love your questions 🥹 can you do 9 and/or 12 please 🤩?

Hi! 💖 (not sure if you are sharing your real name on here? so just to be on the safe side, I won’t write it)

I’m so glad you love the questions, thank you! 🥹

9. How often does the fireplace get used? (Is it ever turned off?!)

It’s clear that the fireplace is definitely in Ian’s top five reasons to rent that apartment (other reasons being them building a life together, privacy, the mattress that is sadly not included etc) So….I think it’s getting used a lot as soon as the days turn cold and the long nights creep in. Ian’s turning it on and giving Mickey a come hither look and Mickey is just making fun of Ian for being so horny for a fireplace. It’s not that great, at all.

Except it kinda is. Mickey likes seeing Ian being so weird about the fireplace. He likes seeing him be happy about anything. And they both like seeing each other in that soft, dim light of the fire. I think they get a bit tipsy one night and both go on and on about how handsome the other one is in front of the fireplace. It becomes such a habit that Mickey finds himself going to turn it on as soon as they get in the apartment after work. They’ll worry about the bill later. But he kinda thinks that this is worth it - being close with Ian, in front of a fireplace, happy and safe. Up to this point neither of them have ever enjoyed winter more than when they’re together, alone in front of the fireplace.

12. Who was the first one to consider giving the other one a Christmas present or wish the other one Happy Christmas?

It’s gotta be Ian. I think this might be one of those things that everyone in fandom agrees on? (However, I’d love to read ideas about if Mickey was the one…..) Ian was thinking about Christmas presents he wants to give Mickey even though he knows he doesn’t have the money and Mickey won’t accept them. But he’s day dreaming and wondering and at least at one point….genuinely considering if he can give Mickey something? Before deciding that no….he can’t. I don’t think he has any problem wishing Mickey ‘Happy Christmas’ though. So here’s a little something……

It’s getting late and it’s fuckin’ freezing. Ian knows they can’t drag this out any longer without getting frostbite. They’ve barely done anything but it feels a lot. Significant. Maybe…. After all, it’s Christmas in a few hours. That’s something right? Them spending Christmas Eve together. It’s something. Well, he wants it to be. Mickey’s acting bored but he keeps looking at Ian. Like he can’t look away for too long.

Ian can’t look away either. Why would he want to? He’d happily stare at Mickey forever if Mickey would allow it. He’s staring right now. Shit. He needs to stop, he needs to go home. Mickey takes one final drag of his cigarette and throws it on the ground, stubbing it out with his boot. He glances at Ian and it’s clear he’s about to make an excuse to go. Ian beats him to it.

“See ya soon, Mick?” Ian asks. He doesn’t let Mickey get a word in though, he’s striding off, looking over his shoulder as he smiles, “Happy Christmas!”

Mickey splutters, “Whatever.”

Ian walks a bit further and he can’t help but look over his shoulder once more. Mickey is looking all pained and Ian throws his middle finger up.

Mickey laughs, “Yeah, yeah, Merry whatever the fuck. You asshole.” He’s trying to hide a smile. But Ian can see it.

It’s a win, Ian thinks. It’s something.

[spotsandsocks]

Hiiii Spotty 💕💕💕

I have a few more!

🎅+ blizzard

-❤️🪐

Ok.. in an effort to save you all from endless words today and get all my word prompts done by this merry Christmas Eve. I decided a little challenge was in order. So Saturn my lovely creative pal I’ve combined all the words you sent that I haven’t used into one fic that comes in around 800 words. Let’s see what you think.

The wind is remarkably loud, rattling the window frames of the cabin in a mildly alarming fashion. The gentle flurries of snow from this morning have turned into something much more intense. At least the fire is going strong and at least there’s blankets. The warmth of the one round his shoulder is comforting but he’s still a little cold. What he wouldn’t do for a hot cocoa or some cookies.

A shiver he can’t control catches Eddie’s attention.

“You still cold?”

He nods, “a bit. I’m fine though. Eddie’s eyes are still on him so he feels the need to keep talking. “I checked the weather before we lost the internet, they say it’s officially a blizzard now, should last a few hours.”

Eddie nods and looks away again. A few hours isn’t that bad. The radio is still working at least, it’s playing some kind of old time big band music that always makes him think about those black and white war movies and make his toes tap.

Maybe one day him and Eddie will be able to dance together. Buck thinks he’s like that. The thought comes out of nowhere but that’s been happening more often recently. He’s been thinking he’d like to do a lot of things with Eddie recently.

He’s not going to be doing any of those though. Instead he's reading the only book he was able to find on the shelf, it’s a kids picture book of ‘‘twas the night before Christmas’. Maddie used to read one like it to him when he was little. Buck wonders if Eddie ever read it to Chris or if he’ll get the chance to read it to his own child one day.

That thought makes him lift his eyes from the page to look at Eddie again. He’s also wrapped up in a blanket but nearer the fire, busy doing a crossword from a puzzle book, another left behind item in the cabin they rented for the weekend. The light from the fire is just enough to let him see and scribble down words. He’d refused to wear the pair of mittens they’d found in a drawer earlier to keep his hands warm and Buck can’t actually blame him; they did look a little crusty.

Suddenly Eddie looks up and when he finds Buck already looking at him it just makes him smile and Buck finds he doesn’t really mind having been caught staring.

Eddie’s mouth opens and Buck has a moment of insane hope then Eddie says.

“Six down - ‘inspiring or influencing people’ ten letters, second and third letters U- M”

Closing his riveting read Buck considers the clue, moving his way through the alphabet when he hits L he’s rather ironically illuminated.

“Luminaries”

Eddie’s eyebrows lift alongside a little pout and impressed nod. From his chair Buck has the sudden image of kissing that pout. The image flushes his cheeks but fortunately Eddie’s gone back to his puzzle book so he doesn’t notice.

He shivers again.

Eddie does notice that.

“You’re cold! Come closer to the fire.” Eddie moves to throw on another log. “You know it might be a good idea to sleep out here.”

“Together?” He gulps at the idea of curling up by a fire with Eddie.

“Yeah… need to keep warm don’t we.”

Blinking in the firelight Buck isn’t at all sure how he feels about that idea.

Eddie looks at him and there’s something in his eyes, a glimmer of hope maybe that gives Buck a drop of confidence.

“I think that’s a good idea. We could move the mattress from my room get some blankets. Kinda like a pillow fort but without the pillows.”

Eddie's face lights up. “Yeah, it sounds cozy.”

Clambering to his feet Eddie holds out a hand that Buck takes with a racing heart.

“Let’s get ready for bed then.”

It doesn’t take too long and the activity does keep them warm. Soon there’s a cozy looking camp by the fire and Eddie’s kicking off his shoes and climbing into the like of blankets.

“Come on you’ll get cold again.”

Nodding he copies Eddie and shucks off his shoes and clambers into the makeshift bed. It’s snug, they’re both quite large after all. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind the closeness so Buck thinks it’s ok to enjoy the warmth and intimacy.

“Warmer now”

He nods and makes a joke that changes his life.

“Well my nose is still cold but I can live with that.”

Eddie frowns, “a friend once told me you’re only as warm as your coldest part”

Buck laughs, he knows who told Eddie that. It was him on a star gazing trip.

“Sounds like a smart friend”

Eddie smiles. “He is, in fact he’s everything to me and I don’t think he should have a cold nose.”

Then Eddie kisses the tip of his nose.

“Anything else cold?”

Eddie’s eyes glow in the firelight. He looks nervous and hopeful and Buck can’t believe his luck. Finding Eddie’s hand under the blankets he squeezes it.

“My lips are pretty chilly.”

Eddie smiles, the twinkle in his eye declaring his love as he moves closer.

“Let’s see what we can do about that then.”

So illuminated by firelight, in the middle of a blizzard, wrapped in blankets and love Buck gets kissed by the man he loves and he’s pretty confident he’ll never ever be cold again.

[seventh-district]

“Why’s he call you Darlin’?”

on my knees begging my brain to stop trying to associate this song with Sam

[butnotbubblegum]

using the tags to vent my current emotional state into the void bc ig story feels like a bad plan for this, read at your own risk.

[idksjdhshdhd]

Maybe in an alternate universe, where Jake was nice and Will wasn’t in love with Mike…

[ghstzzn]

so needy — enhypen hyung line

pairing(s): enhypen hyung line x fem!reader (separate!)

genre(s): pure smut. with some plot from overexplaining.

tags/warnings: SMUT! MDNI! needy but not quite subby, rough & sloppy unprotexted sex, face fucking, jake munch agenda, masturbating (m. rec), male whimpering yupp, lots and lots of descriptions of boners, seriously they are all hard. no prep for reader, exhibition heh.. (parking lot & bathroom at a party), tried my hardest to go needy im a hard!dom writer im sorry, creampie, one pullout method, cum eating, cum... feeding?, biting, uhh lmk if i missed any srsly. wc: 3.2k. 400-700 for each

💭: WE LIKE OUR MEN IN HEAT GROWLS🦅🦅🦅 @jjunieworld and i. we went insane. i went insane. i seriously tried to make them needy and jakes is probably the closest ill ever get to writing a subby idol. its hard. sorry. ill try harder because i like this i think. <3 i need to get them pregnant asap.

heeseung had been in the recording studio since he had woken up, and yet he still had a long night ahead of him due to editing and touch ups. he was going insane.

you had sent him a selfie of you when you woke up, complaining about him being gone. it was innocent. but heeseung has been rock hard since.

his thoughts were full of you— every lyric had just reminded him of you and fuck he’s never needed you this badly before. the pillow that he’s kept on his lap all day felt like a fucking brick and he’s been subconsciously bucking his hips into it.

heeseung lets out a groan, throwing his head back as he cups his hardened cock through his flimsy sweats. he cannot take it anymore. pulling out his phone, he shoots you a text, complaining that he was hungry and didn’t feel good— a little lie because he knows if he told you he was painfully hard, you’d just tell him to wait. he can’t do that.

you’re so sweet to him, truly, you ask him if he’s okay and tell him you’ll be there in ten.

the door automatically locks when it's shut and you walk up to him, resting your hand on his forehead. he is feeling warm. heeseung leans into your touch and groans softly before grabbing your wrist, throwing the pillow and sitting you on his lap.

not even three minutes later, he’s thrusting up into you relentlessly. you’re desperately trying to grip onto anything, his shoulders, the chair and even the equipment table behind you. heeseungs grip on your hips is tight, bruising even. 

you’re both already cumming, the pace he set was too much for you and he’s simply been hard way too long to last more than seven minutes. though, as soon as he emptied himself inside you, he’s lifting you out of his lap, shoving aside an expensive keyboard and shoving your face down onto the table.

“fuck- fucking take it,” he spits as he continues pounding you from behind. “b-been so fucking hard all day, all because of you.”

his cock is hitting the most sensitive spots with his brutal speed, you almost feel as if you really did something wrong. you reach up to grip onto something, knocking into a few buttons in the process, turning on some music— which honestly helped cover the sounds of your moans but probably not necessary due to the soundproof room.

“hah- heeseung it’s t-too much!” you manage to squeak out, hiccuping and whimpering.

you’re spasming around his cock once more, he sloppily thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and emptying himself on your lower back. you weakly lift yourself to peek behind you, glancing back and forth between his still hard cock and his eyes that were full of nothing but lust. 

heeseung will be here all night— and so will you.

─────────────────

jay thought it’d be a good idea, a great one! he brought you with him to tour some fancy guitar museum he was invited to. you both were so excited to attend, throwing on your best outfits— which included that one dress that jay absolutely went feral for.

he could barely focus on the guitar he was testing out when you were sitting so pretty and patient in front of him, smiling and cheering him on. he didn’t even realize he was fucking up the chords, face red when he realized it wasn’t just you and him in the room.

you sat in the acoustics room with him, dress riding up your legs, leather jacket hanging off your shoulder as you watched him pick at each string with so much adoration in your eyes.

jay was going to go fucking insane. he can feel himself hardening at the mere sight of you— truly he’s usually better at keeping himself kept in public.

when you asked so sweetly to try out at guitar yourself, he thought he would combust right there.

he helps you choose a guitar, slipping the strap around your neck and even setting up the amp for you. jay sits back and watches as you play around with different chords you’ve picked up from him, but his eyes refuse to leave your fingers.

the way they delicately pluck each string or how they grip the guitar pick, how your other hand grips the neck of the guitar to hold down strings. he almost groans when he watches you almost struggle to fit them around it.

if only that were his cock. 

jay has to keep yanking and pulling at his jeans. he almost grabs the guitar from you just to cover his inevitable boner. his jaw is clenched, he wants to leave so fucking bad. he’s seconds away from pulling you into the closest room and tarnishing his image just to fuck you.

finally, your time at the guitar center was over. jay’s practically dragging you to the car and you aren’t even sure why. maybe you did something to upset him?

as soon as you reach the car, he’s sandwiching you between him and the cold surface. your boyfriend doesnt waste a second before grabbing your hand and forcing you to grab his throbbing cock through his jeans.

“for the past four fucking hours,” he grits out, nuzzling his face against your cheek, “four fucking hours that i’ve been so fucking hard. because of you.”

your face is red and you’re whipping your head around the parking lots, it’s almost empty thankfully— and dark outside. “i-i did this?”

he groans in the crook of your neck, “please, baby, fucking need you now.”

those are the only words you need to get you to drop to your knees. your hands shake slightly as they fumble with his belt, pulling it apart and yanking his jeans down just enough to free his cock. 

it’s practically red and leaking, you almost pout when you think about your poor boyfriend being that hard for so long because of you.

jay seems to not like how long you're taking because he’s immediately taking your hair into his fist and smacking his tip against your lips. you eagerly invite his length into your mouth, using your hands to work whatever you can’t fit. 

he has to hold back from cumming right there. the way your lips wrap around him so well, your throat struggling to take him. this is exactly what got him hard in the first place. jay rocks his hips back and forth, pushing his cock further and further into your mouth.

“yeah- fuck. taking me so well, huh?” jay mutters, biting his lip to contain his grunts. “thought about this exact fucking thing in there. so pretty around my cock.”

his words make you hum in arousal, sending vibrations down his length. jay groans and throws his head back, pushing you further down his cock. the gag that rips from your throat is almost enough to make him empty himself all over your face.

jay continues to practically fuck your mouth. your hands drop to grip his thighs as you let him use your mouth however he pleases. both of his big hands in your hair, forming a messy ponytail tail as he continues to thrust into you roughly.

“fuckfuckfuck! almost there, baby.” he’s almost whimpering, it’s so good. after a few more thrusts, he’s pulling out and cumming, emptying himself onto your cheeks and lips. 

there’s so much cum you have to take him back into your mouth to save yourself from a messy shirt.

jay pants as you ride him through his intense orgasm. needless to say, he’s fucking you again in the car this time.

──────────────────

jake was restless. he was quite literally rolling around on your bed as you ignored him for some stupid fucking book.

“jake, i seriously need to cram this by tonight. then we can hang out!” you promised him.

six fucking hours ago. he groans loudly, loud enough to make you scoff and shake your head.

“why don’t you go play on my pc?” you suggest sweetly, “you love the games i have on there!”

“i dont want to do that.” 

you sigh and shrug your shoulders in response, you already told him countless times that you were busy and he’s the one who chose to stay.

“baby, please just take a break.” he pleads. “there’s no way you’re finishing this by tonight.”

he rolls over on his stomach and grips onto your leg, sporting a dramatic expression. jake was right, there was no way you were finishing any of your work tonight, but that almost gives you more reasons to not take a break. 

“the sooner i finish, the sooner i'll be all yours baby.” you tell him, patting his fluffed up hair down, messy from rolling around.

he groans again, “noo, baby i want you- no i need you now!”

“why are you so antsy right now, jake?” 

jake drops his head into your lap, muffling his voice. “ ‘m so horny.”

“hm?” you hum, not quite hearing him. he only responds by softly kissing your inner thighs, unable to hold back any longer.

he pushes his jean clad cock against your soft mattress as he travels down your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses behind. 

“jake.”

“i said im horny. im so fucking horny and you smell so good.” he repeats, lifting his head to look you in your eyes.

your brain freezes at his words. “i… i’ll be done soon, i promise- just-“

he cuts off your words by pressing a desperate kiss over your clothes cunt, sending shivers down your spine. you can feel yourself getting wet by his needy and desperate actions.

“jake!” you whimper out when he licks a stripe over your pajama shorts. he doesn’t even care that you’re still fully clothed, a piece of flimsy fabric won't stop him.

your boyfriend continues to make out with your cunt through your shorts, shifting to bite and suck at your thighs. “pleaasee.” he lets out a muffled whine.

you’ve already dropped your books and papers beside you, soft whimpers leaving your mouth as your hands find their spot in his long hair. “fuck— jake slow down!”

jake shakes his head, his own hands moving to yank down your sleep shorts. he knew you weren’t wearing panties, and he’s pretty sure that’s what got him so horny in the first place. the amount of times he looked down at your thighs to catch small glimpses of your ass and cute cunt because they were barely covered.

it took so much restraint to not shove his aching cock between your thighs— make you forget all about your boring paperwork.

jake attaches his lips to your clit, sucking and practically making out with it. every now and then he shoves his tongue as deep as he can inside your oozing hole, gathering all your juices on his tongue and slurping.

you can’t tell who's moaning louder, you or him. he’s attacking your cunt with everything he has all while rutting his hips into your mattress, attempting to pleasure himself but he could honestly cum untouched as long as he had your sweet pussy in his mouth.

he’s groaning against your cunt and letting out incoherent curses, “f-fuck.. hmph so- so good.”

your eyes roll to the back of your neck and you can feel the heat pool in your lower stomach.

“jake- gonna cum, please dont fucking stop!” 

jake listens well, continues to suck and lap at your wetness as if its his last fucking meal. you don't even notice his hand leaving your thigh to jerk himself off but when you do— it pushes you immediately over the edge. 

you tremble as you cum all over his mouth, and he only eagerly slurps it up. he doesn’t pull away and until you yank him up by his hair, you stare at his soaked lips, your arousal dripping down his face. 

he lifts himself up to kiss you, feeding you your own cum, his hand comes up to grip your neck as you engage in a desperate kiss.

when he lets go of you to rid himself of his pants, your hand comes up to touch the wetness left on your cheek— it hits you that jake came all over his own hand while eating you out.

there was no way you were letting him out of your sight tonight.

───────────────────

sunghoon was giddy when he found out he could bring a plus one to the prada after party. he literally couldn’t wipe the grin off his face when he told you that you could accompany him.

but now he almost regrets it. 

since you were his plus one, you had gotten a free outfit from the brand. and god was it the best thing he’s ever seen you wear. but also the worst.

this wasn’t his only issue. you were his plus one. so why the fuck were you pretty much attached to jungwon at the hip? why were you ignoring him when he’s the reason you were there?

it’s not like he was angry either, instead he just really really wanted you right there next to him. he was so fucking horny. 

even before you both left the house to head over. he had no idea what the outfit looked like until you put it on and his eyes almost popped out of his head.

sunghoons also not really the type to voice his every thought to you, otherwise you both would’ve skipped the party entirely just to fuck.

well, he wasn't angry. but he can’t help it when the horniness eventually turns into pure sexual frustration. he leans further into the couch as he watches you bounce back and forth from jungwon and heeseung. 

your lonely boyfriend couldn’t even tell if he was jealous, angry or hurt. above all, he just wanted you to sit on his cock for the rest of the night. he understood that you were having fun, some of your other friends in the industry were also invited to this party but he couldn’t help but to feel so left out.

he almost groans as he watches you make your way to yet another one of his members. what about him? he’s here too! his cock twitches beneath his dress pants and he sets his hand with his drink on top of it, hoping it’s not obvious that he’s suffering at this very moment.

“you okay, man?” a voice calls from behind the couch, sunghoon looks up to see jake hovering. “you haven’t moved from that spot in about 40 minutes.”

sunghoon nods and shrugs, “can you tell my girlfriend to meet me over here? i haven’t seen her all night.” he lies through his teeth, he’s literally been watching you all night.

jake tilts his head in confusion, “uh, yeah. i’ll go get her, be right back.”

he taps his finger on his cup as he watches jake whisper in your ear, pointing behind him in his direction. you glance behind jake and sunghoon quickly averts his gaze.

you nod and respond to jake before making your way over to your boyfriend. 

sunghoon quickly downs his drink as he sees you walk towards him, a soft smile on your lips. so now you’re finally paying attention to him?

“what’s wrong, hoonie? jake said you needed me.” 

he nods, setting his drink down and grabbing your wrist instead, “yeah. i do need you, right fucking now.”

you don’t get a chance to question his words before he’s yanking you towards the furthest bathroom in the building. you’re heels almost make it too hard to keep up with him and you’re calling out his name but he’s too occupied on finding any empty bathroom to fuck you in.

sunghoon finally finds one, tugging you into it and slamming the door behind you and clicking the lock.

“what’s wrong, baby?” you ask him again.

“why are you talking to every single one of my members but not me?” 

you blink at him, surely you’ve interacted with him throughout the night. a smile grows on your face when it clicks. “awwe, hoonie! are you jealous?”

sunghoon grips your chin with his hand, “i’m not jealous. you ignored me, there’s a difference.”

“i wasn’t! and i’m here now, right?” 

he rolls his eyes, smushing his body against yours and the door. “baby seriously. need you so bad right now, i had to watch you talk to everyone while i was sitting there so fucking hard.”

your eyes widen slightly, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“god this fucking dress— i’m going insane.” he ignores your question completely, pulling the bottom of your dress up your thighs.

“sunghoon! we can’t- not here!” 

“mm, i don’t care.” sunghoon mutters as he pulls your dress above your hips. “told you i needed you, huh?”

he grips your hips and moves you against the fancy bathroom vanity, turning you around and laying you flat against the counter.

sunghoon ruts his clothed hardon over your own panty clad cunt. “feel it? feel how hard you make me all because a stupid dress?”

“y-yeah, hoonie.”

he sucks in a breath of air and yanks down your flimsy thong before practically ripping the button off his overpriced pants to free his angry cock.

you glance at him in the mirror when he aligns his leaking tip with your wet entrance. no amount of slick and arousal could make taking his size any easier.

“wait- baby i can’t take you like that..!” you pleaded with him.

sunghoon doesn't listen, stuffing you with his length, ripping a gasp from you, forcing you to throw a hand over your mouth to contain any more noises from you.

he wastes no time before beginning to pound into you, your hips slamming against the edge of the vanity with each thrust. you feel every vein against your walls and soon the initial pain turns into pleasure.

your boyfriend’s sloppy and brutal pace tells you just how fucking needy he’s been for the past few hours. sunghoons letting out a string of curses as he continues to abuse your cunt to chase the orgasm he’s been craving for so long.

“god. fuck- so fucking tight.” he groans out. “n-need it so bad.”

you’re biting your own hand to contain the noises that are desperately escaping your mouth, his pace making it impossible for you to stay silent. sunghoons bending over as he continues to fuck into you, gripping your throat as he leaves harsh bites on your shoulder— marks that’d be impossible to cover due to the thin and flimsy straps on your dress.

“shit—“ his movements stutter before hitting his peak, his warm cum filling up your insides but he doesn’t dare stop.

he continues to desperately thrust into you, overstimulating himself because he’s still so stupidly hard. grunts and whimpers are leaving his mouth, muffled by your neck and hair— but his noises only bring you closer to your own peak.

“hoon..! c-cumming, please.” 

even after you cream around his cock, his movements don’t stop. his thrusts are sloppy and his cock is knocking against your cervix, fucking you hard and deep all because he needs to cum again.

sunghoon lets out a loud groan as he finds himself emptying himself once more inside of you. rocking his hips slowly to ride himself through his second intense orgasm, it was almost painful.

he slips out of you with a grunt, his cock still half hard but he decided right there that the both of you would be leaving the party early.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

I really loved your career day fic and I was wondering if you could do a Shut up mom fic with the same lineup with nanami tho if you write for him🥺 👉👈

Shut up, Mom!

Tags: teeth rotting fluff, mostly crack, cursing, jjk men as dads / fem!reader

An: I would be delighted to write this anon :) my requests are open, loves. If you want me to write a specific idea, definitely ask and I’ll try to deliver on it! also, if anyone wants to be on a taglist please let me know. So, I gave Sukuna a kid in this one because I didn’t really see Yuji calling you mom or him dad. Yuji calls you two unc and auntie :)

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA • NANAMI

SATORU

“Aoi, did you take out the trash?” You ask your nine-year-old son while trying not to giggle. Aoi has recently discovered pranks, and he suggested playing one on Satoru. You couldn’t help but think that was an amazing idea.

Your husband was leisurely sitting on the couch, playing a game on the console he and your son shared. He was able to see you from his peripheral vision while you and Aoi were in the dining room. He didn’t seem to be too intrigued by the conversation, but Satoru is a chronic eavesdropper. He can’t help it with his technique and all.

“No, mom. Why can’t you do it?” Aoi plays his role perfectly, even throwing in an annoyed groan at you. Gojo cut his eyes towards you two, but he stayed silent for a moment. He knew this was your battle to face, and he wasn’t usually the disciplinary parent anyways.

“Because I told you to do it, Aoi. It’s your chore.” You say, putting on a serious voice as you would if he had really been sassing off to you.

“Ugh. Shut up, mom!” Aoi yells with a dramatic eye roll.

Immediately, you hear the game console cut off. It seems like you two had garnered Satoru’s attention. Footsteps carry into the dining room, and your all too tall husband leans against the doorframe.

Aoi sees his father, and his eyes widen. Your little actor. He then tries to walk off, but Satoru easily put his hand out against Aoi’s chest, preventing him from going anywhere.

“Woah, woah, woah, there little man. Who do you think you’re talking to there?” He interjects as his hands slowly unwrap his bindings from around his eyes, letting you know that he’s about to get serious.

“She’s getting on my nerves, dad!” Aoi continues to play the role, even though you can tell that he’s scared shitless.

“Hey, look at me.” Satoru says as he bends his knees to be eye level with Aoi. Your son complies with his dad’s order. “I don’t give a shit, okay? Never, and I mean, never tell your mother to shut up unless you intend on fighting me afterwards. She says to take out the trash, you say yes and take out the trash. Do you understand me?” Satoru says as he holds his son’s shoulders, squeezing them a bit so Aoi knows he’s not fooling around.

“Because I don’t think you want to fight me, do you?” Satoru questions. His blue eyes beam in the light, making your son nervously sweat.

“Baby, it’s just a prank.” You quickly interject with a laugh as you gently nudge your husband away from your son.

“Yeah dad, I was just acting!!” Aoi’s nervous gaze flutters into an adorable smile.

Satoru rolls his eyes and playfully laughs along. “You two are too silly, makin’ me turn off my game for this.” He shakes his head as he wraps his eyes back up.

“You were like gonna hollow purple me!” Aoi shouts with an excited laugh, and he reenacts Satoru’s cursed technique.

“Yeah, I love your mom a little too much.” Satoru responds with a grin up towards your direction.

SUGURU

Mimiko and Nanako are coming into their teen years, and recently, they’ve been obsessed with the idea of TikTok. After seeing the “shut up mom” prank all over, they knew that they had to play it on Suguru.

You, of course, agreed to help them pull off their little shenanigan.

“You two are not going out. It’s a school night.” You chide at the twin girls, giving them a small wink as Suguru was enjoying a cup of tea while sitting at the breakfast bar. He was scrolling mindlessly on his phone, reading the news or something like that.

“Mom, please. Everyone’s going.” Nanako pled and even threw in a small pout.

“Yeah, who cares if it’s a school night?” Mimiko chimed in.

“Girls.” Suguru warned as he normally did when you were having to deal with the twins. He didn’t like the idea of the girls ganging up on you.

“I said no. I bet you two didn’t even do your homework yet either.” You carry on, eyeing the two girls as if they were really in trouble.

“Ugh! Mom, shut up!” The girls somehow managed to say in sync. The two had obviously practiced their lines.

The tea glass hit the counter, and Suguru a stood up from his seat on the stool. “Hey. I don’t ever want to hear that kind of language in this house, especially not to your mother. Got that?” He said as he eyed your daughters.

Your husband was a bit of a strict father to the girls. He really just wanted them to turn out good, so he was the main disciplinary figure in the house.

“Dad! She’s-“

“Aht.” He cuts Mimiko off, and starts to walk up to the girls. “I didn’t ask. Apologize to your mother this instant. Then, go upstairs and do your homework. You two are grounded from going out for at least a month.”

“Sugu, it’s a prank.” You say as you can’t hold back a laugh from how angry he got that quickly. “It’s a prank, sweetie.”

Your two girls were nodding quickly, holding their hands out in surrender. “We saw it on TikTok!”

Suguru rolls his eyes at the three of you. “That app is no good for you.” He quietly chides. “Did you two do your homework?”

Mimiko and Nanako exchange nervous glances, and they both run up to their rooms to get it done.

Your husband laughs quietly and shakes his head before sitting back down on his stool. You walk over towards him and card your fingers through his long hair. He lets out a long exhale of contentment while leaning his head into your touch. “What are we gonna do with those two, hm?”

“Love them and try our best to teach them.” You softly respond before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

TOJI

Toji is a pretty laid back dad. He lets you take the lead on a lot of the parenting aspects, since it comes to you more naturally than it does with him. However.. he has his moments.

“Megumi, come help me do the dishes.” You say to your 13-year-old son. He’s in that weird stage of puberty where you’re his best friend one day and his worst enemy the next, which means he sometimes agreed to play pranks with you.

“Busy, mom.” He mumbles at the table as he’s trying to learn the hand signs for one of his shikigami. He was left learning this stuff on his own since Toji wasn’t a sorcerer, and you weren’t apart of the Zenin clan. You had no idea how to do the hand gestures.

“You can do that after you’re done helping me, Gumi.” You say as you turn on the kitchen sink. Your son doesn’t even acknowledge that you said anything.

Toji eyes him from his seat at the dining table, waiting for his son to comply.

“Gumi. Get in here.” You finally say after a minute of him not responding to you.

“Shut up, Mom!” He raises his voice at you, and immediately, Toji is on him quicker than you could respond.

“What did you just say to your mother, brat?” Toji grits as he stares down at his teenage son. Megumi looked back up at him mortified. “I brought you in this world, and I will take your ass out of it if I hear you speak to your mom like that again.”

“Baby, baby, baby, it’s a prank!” You say as you rush over to Toji. Megumi cracks a nervous smile, and you gently nudge Toji back.

“It’s a prank!” Megumi shouts as he leans back away from Toji slightly.

Your husband lets out an annoyed grunt. “You two play too much. Gonna make me kill my own son.” He says as he releases Megumi’s shoulder. He walks back over to his seat at the dining table and smacks your ass on the way back.

SUKUNA

“Ryu, come take out the trash!” You yell to your son. He recently brought up the idea of pranking Sukuna by yelling at you to shut up in front of him. You had urged your son that this was a bad idea, but he was persistent.

Sukuna was sat at the dining table, eating whatever Uraume had prepared for him. Usually, Uraume handled the trash as well, but you distinctly told them to leave it.

There’s no response.

“Ryu! Trash now!” You call out again in a more frustrated tone.

Sukuna is biting his tongue at this point. There is nothing that he hates more than insolence, especially towards you. You’re his queen, and he demands for all to respect you, including his son.

No response.

“Ryu!”

“Okay mom! Shut the fuck up!”

All four of Sukuna’s eyes widened, and he put down his fork. “Domain expansion. Malevolent-“

“It’s a prank!” You shout as you spin to look at Sukuna quickly. Your son is standing behind you, quite literally trembling in fear.

“Yeah- it’s a p-prank, dad.” Ryu stutters out.

Sukuna narrows his gaze, and he looks between the two of you. “Foolish.” He grunts. “Boy, come have a seat.” He commands, and your son reluctantly complies.

“If you ever pull some shit like that seriously, I’m not afraid to start over and make a new kid. I got nothing but time on my hands.” Your husband says while eyeing your son.

“Ryu’s a good kid, Kuna.” You assure him as you walk over to your husband and rub on his shoulders a bit.

“Mmm, for now.” He mumbles, and he nods his head to the trashcan. “Take the trash out.”

NANAMI

Your husband was sitting in the living room, enjoying his “lazy Sunday” as he called it. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. He couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for the life he was living right now.

He had everything he ever dreamed of: a stable job, an amazing wife, a small family in a loving home.

You were sitting next to him, casually rubbing on his thigh through his pajama pants. You and your daughter had been texting about playing a prank on your dear husband, and it was finally going to happen.

“Hana, did you fold the clothes like I told you to?” You call out to your daughter as she’s in her bedroom. Nanami turns a page in his book, still not paying too much attention.

“Mom, I’m doing something!” Your daughter yells back.

“Hana, get in here and fold those clothes!” You shout back, getting a bit more serious. Nanami lets out a small sigh as he places his mug on the coffee table. He’s normally quick to nip Hana’s attitude in the bud.

“I’m busy!”

“Hana!”

“Okay mom! Just shut up already!” She finally yells as she storms into the living room. Nanami shuts his book and immediately stares down your daughter.

“What did you just say?” He asks as he sits up from his cozy position. His jaw tightens a bit as he glares at Hana.

“I just told her to shut up. She’s being overdramatic.” Your daughter continues, playing her part perfectly.

“Who’s her? Your mother? You’re telling my wife to shut up?” Nanami says as he starts to stand up.

“It’s just a prank, Ken!”

“Dad, it’s a prank-!”

You and your daughter both shout nervously, and Nanami looks at both of you confused for a moment. It then clicks in his head. “God, don’t stress me out like that.” He chides as he relaxes back on the couch. He wraps his arm back around you and picks up his book again.