#I loved answering this ask THANK YOU SO MUCH

[the-offside-rule]

Joe Burrow (Cinccinati Bengals) - Game Day and Grammys

Requested: no but someone asked about NFL imagines and the Pro Bowl and Grammys were on so how could I miss this opportunity?

Prompt: Joe Burrow x singer!girlfriend

Warnings: none other than it being long and full of fluff

Y/n sat in the plush chair of her hotel suite, a stylist curling sections of her hair while another dabbed powder on her already flawless face. The room buzzed with quiet excitement—her team murmuring about last-minute dress fittings, run-throughs, and camera angles. After all, tonight was the biggest night of her career. Five Grammy nominations. Five.

But her attention? Completely divided. On the sleek flatscreen across the room, the Pro Bowl was in full swing. Her boyfriend, Joe Burrow, was out there, tossing passes and leading drives while she got glammed up for music’s biggest stage. She’d wished she could be there, but the Grammys and the game fell on the same night, and there was no way to be in two places at once.

Her phone vibrated in her lap. Another text from Joe.

Joe: This is so much fun. Wish you were here

She grinned, typing back quickly.

Y/n: Wish I was too. But you better be focused, Burrow. No interceptions.

Another buzz.

Joe: No INTs. Just vibes. Also… scored a touchdown. No big deal.

Y/n let out a laugh, her lips quirking as she typed her reply.

Y/n: A touchdown?? Damn, you haven’t scored one of those in a while.

Her stylist stifled a giggle behind her. "Good news?" She smirked. "Joe just ran one in himself." Her phone buzzed again.

Joe: Wow. The slander.

Joe: But fair.

Joe: Good luck tonight, superstar.

Joe: Ja'Marr said if you win two tonight, that makes it 9 grammys you have ever won

Joe: And guess what my number is?

Y/n chuckled at the coincidence. No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, they were always supporting each other.

Y/n: Alright, QB1. Ill get the Grammy's you worry about not getting tagged.

With one last glance at the game, she turned back to the mirror, ready to take on her own championship night.

The flashbulbs were blinding as Y/n posed on the red carpet, her dress hugging her perfectly while she effortlessly smiled at the cameras. The energy was electric; reporters calling out her name, fans screaming behind the barricades. She was used to this, but tonight felt different. Bigger.

As she moved down the carpet, she began her interviews, each asking the same old question that she had rehearsed about a million times. How does it feel to be nominated 5 times? She had been nominated for Album of the Year, Song of the Year, Record of the Year, Pop Vocal Album and Music Video of the Year. She had been to the grammys before but she had only ever been nominated twice each year. Granted, she did win them, racking up an astonishing 7 grammys in just 4 years, but her once edgey music had shifted to softer love songs, all thanks to a certain quarter back.

She smiled as she moved on down the carpet to her last interviewer, a little kid who she had seen on tik tok time and time again. "Oh my gosh, hello!" She smiled as she did her best to get down onto the kid's level. Her calf were killing her from the heels standing, nevermind squatting down. "You look beautiful. I love the dress." She said. "Thank you! And you look so beautiful too." The child replied. "I have a few questions for you if thats okay?"

"Of course! I would love to hear them." Y/n said warmly as she held her own microphone. "So, obviously this is your record for the most amount of Gammys that you have been nominated for. If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that this would be happening, what would you say?" Finally a way to answer the question of how she felt about being nominated that didn't involve her rehearsed answer. "I think I would tell my younger self to keep going, to believe in myself and don't put the guitar down because it's gotten me this far." Y/n replied. "Your album Nine Sunday Mornings was a very abrupt change in your music. It was more edgey and angsty the last time you were here-" Y/n laughed at the very blunt question. "Why do you think this change happened or is it because you just got bored of that genre?" Now that was a good question.

"I mean, as you said it was a big change. I mean any love song I wrote before was scrapped because I thought it was too sappy so I stuck to breakup songs or rage songs. I think the change came in meeting Joe. From the songs right down to the title it's all him. I remember the very night I met him I stayed up nearly all night writing about the like 5 minute encounter we had and now it's nominated tonight so. I have to give credit where credit is due." She answered. "Have you been keeping up with the Pro Bowl?" Y/n laughed, adjusting the Grammy-branded microphone in her hand. "Of course! I have it on in my hotel room. Joe keeps texting me updates, so I think I might have a better play-by-play than some of the commentators."

Her manager tapped her shoulder to tell her to make her way inside, so she bid the mini-reporter farewell and walked in to the packed venue.

Once inside, Y/n glanced around, trying to spot her team. The Grammys were always a production, but tonight, the room felt even bigger. Row after row of tables and glowing stage lights. She turned in circles, scanning the room. Where were they? Her manager, her producer, anyone?

"Y/n?"

She spun around to see Jack approaching, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. "Hey, are you okay?" She let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, I just… I can’t find my seat. I have no idea where my team is." Before Jack could respond, a familiar voice chimed in.

"She can sit with us!"

Y/n turned to see Taylor Swift standing a few feet away, a warm smile on her face. Taylor, dressed in an elegant yet edgy ensemble, motioned toward her table. "If you don’t mind sitting with us, of course." Y/n hesitated for a second. She didn’t want to intrude- Taylor was with her own crew, and this was a huge night for her, too. "Are you sure?" She asked cautiously.

"Of course! Come on." Taylor said, looping an arm around her gently as they started walking toward the table. "Besides, we have a lot to talk about. I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting." Y/n chuckled, relaxing a little as she took a seat beside her. "Are you going to the Super Bowl?" Taylor asked after a moment.

Y/n shook her head. "No, I’ve never actually been. I told myself I wouldn’t go until Joe is the one playing in it." Taylor’s brows lifted in amusement. "Oh that is goals."

"Plus, I’m heading to his family’s house to watch it with them." She added. "I think it’ll be more special that way." Taylor smiled knowingly. "There’s nothing like watching a game with the people who love him most. Honestly, I think you guys are gonna be there next year." Y/n nodded, already picturing herself in the Burrow family’s living room, wearing one of Joe’s sweatshirts, surrounded by his parents and siblings. It felt right. "Honestly, I don't wanna be too picky but I want a Bengals and 49ers Superbowl. That would cure the world, I think."

"That would be a good one."

Just then, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show. Y/n took a deep breath, ready to take on the night—Grammys, football updates, and all.

Joe stretched his arms over his head as he stepped into the hotel lobby, still buzzing from the Pro Bowl. The game had been fun, a rare chance to play a little looser, joke around with the guys, and even run in a touchdown himself—something Y/n was sure to remind him about later. His teammates followed behind him, still hyped up from the day. "Alright." Ja’Marr announced, clapping his hands. "Let’s turn on the Grammys. Gotta see Y/n win some trophies since Joe isn’t bringing any silverwear home."

Joe grinned as he nudged Ja'Marr for that dig, leading the way to the suite where they all piled onto the couches, flipping the TV on just in time to catch the ceremony in full swing. The room filled with snacks, drinks, and casual conversation, but anytime Y/n appeared on the screen, the guys would nudge Joe, who was watching intently, phone in hand, ready to text her.

Then came Best Pop-Vocal Album of the Year.

Joe sat forward, hands clasped as they listed the nominees. He knew how much work Y/n had put into this album—how many late nights, how many times she’d called him exhausted but excited, how much of her heart was poured into every track.

"And the Grammy goes to…"

Not her.

Joe exhaled, lips pressing together as he watched her smile and clap for the winner. She was graceful as ever, but he knew her well enough to see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. "She said she was gonna be surprised if she got that one. She like, knew Sabrina was winning that hands down."

Then came Record of the Year.

Not her again.

"She got robbed." Russell Wilson muttered. "Bro, you're gonna be the first one singing Not Like Us at the halftime show next weekend." Lamar Jackson replied. "She's in like the toughest categories." James Cook added. Joe didn’t say anything, just shook his head. He hated seeing her not get what she deserved, but he knew Y/n. Knew she’d keep smiling, keep pushing forward. And damn it, he’d keep cheering her on, just like she always did for him.

It didn't matter. 2 down, 3 to go. Music Video of the Year.

Joe sat up straight. He knew this one mattered to her, too. Her video had been a passion project, something she’d fought to bring to life exactly the way she envisioned it. The competition was stacked—the other nominees had incredible visuals, and any of them could take it. Y/n sat at her table, her hands clasped in her lap, holding her breath. Joe could practically feel her nerves through the screen.

"She’s got this." He murmured. "She’s got this, she’s got this, she’s got this, come on, baby."

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n!"

Y/n gasped, letting out the breath she’d been holding. Taylor pulled her into a tight hug as the entire table erupted into cheers. Joe leapt off the couch, throwing his hands in the air. "Let's go! Yes! Wooh!" The suite exploded with excitement- Ja’Marr was shouting, some of the guys were recording Joe’s reaction, and others were laughing as Joe jumped up, singing along to the snippet of Y/n’s song that played as she made her way to the stage.

On the screen, Y/n’s smile was blinding, eyes slightly glossy as she accepted her award. Joe grinned, pride swelling in his chest. She’d done it. Just like she always did. "Oh my god, wow." She began. "I’ll be honest, I did not expect Music Video of the Year. There had been some amazing Music Videos so I just wanted to congratulate my fellow nominees and their directors." Joe clapped as he listened to her. "I want to thank my team, the fans, my family and all of you who voted for the video. My boyfriend Joe of course, who may or may not be still playing his game of tag football but I'm gonna thank him anyway." His face grew red. "I think that's all I have to say to be honest. Maybe I'll see you up here again pretty soon."

Joe lounged back on the couch, finally feeling like he could relax a little after all the emotional whiplash of the night ao far and he was still buzzing from it. "She’s performing next." Ja’Marr pointed out, nodding toward the TV. Joe sat up again, straightening his hoodie as the camera panned to the stage. The lights dimmed, and then—there she was.

His girl.

Y/n stood center stage, bathed in golden light, singing a balld version of her nominated song. She wore the most stunning outfit—a gold sparkling, elegant number that hugged her perfectly. She looked ethereal. "Jesus Christ." Joe muttered under his breath before saying a little louder, "Her outfit is so pretty." Some of the guys laughed. "Yeah, it is." Ja'Marr teased with a smirk. "You good over there, Burrow?" Russell asked, causing all the other guys to take notice of his blushing face and tease him further.

Joe just waved them off, eyes locked on the screen. Then, just as the song picked up, she reached down, grabbed the edges of her outfit, and-

Riiiipppp

The elegant gown was gone, revealing a bold, dazzling second outfit underneath—sleek, fun, and perfect for dancing. "Oh my God." Joe groaned, immediately hiding his face in his hands as the entire room exploded. The guys were shouting, laughing, some recording his reaction as they all clapped and cheered. "Ayyy! Okay, Y/n!" Ja'Marr called.

Joe shook his head, chuckling as his ears burned. He peeked through his fingers just in time to see her seamlessly transition into the next part of the performance, moving with ease, completely in her element. She was dancing, smiling, engaging the crowd like she was born for this moment. "I didn't know she could move like that! Damn!" Trey said.

Joe dropped his hands, watching as Y/n held the mic out, getting the entire crowd to sing along with her. She looked so happy, completely in control of the stage, like she was having the time of her life. Joe smiled. His teammates might have been teasing him, but he didn’t care. He was just so damn proud of her. As the song ended,she looked aroukd for the camera that would be zooming in on her. She spotted it and winked, before blowing a kiss right to it. Joe reached for the imaginaru kiss and put it to his heart as the guys teased him even further for it.

Joe sat back against the couch, his arm draped over the back as the next category came up—Song of the Year.

"Alright, this one’s huge." Ja’Marr said, leaning forward. Joe nodded, eyes locked on the screen. Y/n had poured everything into this song and she loved it the most for reason unknown to him, and even though she’d already won Music Video of the Year, he wanted this for her. Badly.

The nominees were stacked— some of the biggest songs of the year, including Y/n’s. The room quieted as the presenter opened the envelope.

"nd the Grammy goes to… Kendrick Lamar, Not Like Us!"

Joe exhaled, shaking his head, but before he could react, he spotted Y/n on screen, grinning and dancing along to the snippet of Not Like Us that played through the venue speakers. Joe burst out laughing. "She doesn’t seem too bothered." Trey snickered. "Bro, she looks kinda tipsy."

The whole room chuckled as they watched Y/n dancing up out of her seat singing along as Kendrick made his way to the stage. She was still clapping and smiling, showing nothing but love for the win, and Joe couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly cool she was about it. "She’s just vibin'." Joe said with a smirk, shaking his head.

And then finally came Album of the Year.

Her final nomination.

Joe sat up one last time, his heart pounding a little harder. He could see Y/n on screen, hands clasped together, her lips pressed tight as she waited. The tension in the room was thick, even through the television.

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n, Nine Sunday Mornings!"

She didn’t move.

She didn’t react at first—just sat there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Joe felt like the air had been sucked out of the room before he erupted. "Yes! Let's go baby!" He jumped up again, fists in the air as his teammates laughed, recording his reaction for the second time that night. "That’s my girl! That’s my girl!" He cheered, pacing the room as the suite filled with whoops and applause.

Back on the screen, Y/n finally stood, still in complete shock. As she made her way up to the stage, she kept shaking her head, her mouth open as if she still couldn’t believe it. She took the award in her hands, staring down at it, blinking before looking around. The crowd chuckled. She looked up at the mic, then back at the award. "What?" She squeaked.

Laughter rippled through the audience. Joe grinned, shaking his head. He could practically hear her thoughts—How? Against all those incredible albums? She took a deep breath, exhaling sharply, still looking down at the trophy. "I—I don’t even know what to say, honestly I'm a little drunk so-" Joe smiled proudly, watching her collect herself and begin her speech. She had done it. Two Grammys in one night. And even though he wasn’t there in person, he cheered for her just as loudly as she did for him on Sundays.

"I want to thank the incredible Jack Antanoff for helping me produce this album first and foremost, my team also. But there is one person in particular who I will ramble on about because he was the inspiration for every single song I wrote since the 9th of December 2023, when we first met." Joe felt his eyes watering upon hearing it. He didn’t lile seeing her cry, it often meant he would cry too. "The album itself is a hommage to the fact that it took just nine sunday mornings for us to decide we wanted to become a couple and honestly, those 9 Sunday mornings were the best I could have ever lived through because I got to fall in love with the love of my life." Joe wiped his eyes, lookong down as Ja'Marr patted his back in support. "Joe, wherever you are, I wanted you to know that this award is for you, you can put it right next to the Heisman and my other 8 Grammy's."

Joe chuckled lightly as her little dig. "And just in case this wasnt a clincidence enough already- I'm going to shout out Ja'Marr Chase for this information- this is my ninth Grammy, and its for Cinccinati's number 9." The microphone cut out, singalling that her time for speaking was up. She mouthed a very animated 'I love you' to the camera before smiling and heading off the stage.

As soon as Y/n sat back down at her table, she reached for her phone. Her hands were slightly shaking—part adrenaline, part sheer excitement. The night had been a whirlwind, and there was only one person she needed to talk to right now. She hit Joe’s contact, pressing the phone to her ear as the Grammys continued around her. The line barely rang once before he picked up.

"Baby!" She let out a breathless laugh. "Joe!"

"Oh my God!" He said, and she could hear the pure excitement in his voice. "You were insane. I mean first of all, two Grammys? And then that performance? What was that outfit change? You’re trying to kill me?" Y/n giggled, running a hand through her hair. "Did you like it?"

"Like it? Babe, I almost had a heart attack. These guys aren't gonna let me live it down." She laughed again, picturing Joe hiding his face in his hands while all his guys teased him. "I was just thinking about you the whole time." She admitted, voice a little softer now. "I figured you were watching."

"Of course I was watching." He said immediately. "Are you kidding? We had the Grammys on as soon as we got back. I was cheering for you all night." Y/n smiled, glancing down at her awards sitting in front of her. "It still doesn’t feel real. I mean…Album of the Year? What?"

"You earned that, Y/n. No one deserved it more." She bit her lip, warmth spreading through her chest. "I mean, Billie should have won it." She replied. "Oh my God, I'm gonna cry again."

"No, don't cry." He said quickly. "Not unless it’s happy tears." She laughed, leaning back in her chair. "How was the Pro Bowl? I feel like I barely got to ask you." Joe chuckled. "It was fun. I mean we lost, but it was fun."

"What was the score?" She asked. "Like 76 to 63 or somethin' like that?" He looked around for nods of approval. "Did I mention I scored?" Y/n chuckled. "Yeah and as I said before I haven’t seen you do that in a while."

"Okay, woah." He deadpanned, and she could hear his teammates laughing in the background. "I’m kidding." She teased. "I’m proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too, baby." Y/n exhaled, her whole body finally starting to relax after the chaos of the night. "I just wish you were here."

"Yeah, I know." Joe said softly. "But I’ll see you tomorrow. And then we can celebrate properly." She grinned. "Deal."

"I love you, Baby."

"Love you too, Shiesty "

As she hung up, she clutched her phone to her chest, still smiling. It had been a night to remember— and she couldn’t wait to get home to him.

[hesbythecampfire]

We were just talking about "what happened to the activist, anti war pro love, pro equality movements of the 60's/70's", the counterculture. Ehrlichman's statement answers a big part of that. By demonizing the people involved in the movements, they managed to create an anti-movement. A bunch of self-righteous, so called, conservatives, so angry at what they were led to believe were drug fueled, anti-american sentiments that they were willing to sell their souls for a piece of nostalgia that never existed.

I also want to address the comment from used "kaithia" above. While white privilege did play a part in that perceived "slap on the wrist" it was much more often a socio-economic issue. Ask all the poor white kids who did time for minor offences. Rich non-whites could afford good lawyers too. And if you address was in the "right" part of town you often got taken home instead of to jail. (My personal experiences from the day)

Thanks for reading my rant

𝖜𝖉𝖙𝖍𝖙𝖉𝖜𝖈

[landopoet]

two prizes.

pairing lando norris x journalist!reader

warnings smut, oral (fem receiving), mentions of alcohol

synopsis that day was not the first time you and lando had met, and he helps you remember that

author’s note posting my older works, thanks to @clovermoters for the collage up top!

♯

Excitement pulsed through your veins at the mere sound of engines roaring.

The amount of people trying to push past you made you anxious, but you knew it was all part of the experience. Everyone was bunching up to watch one of the greatest events of all time— the Miami GrandPrix.

Once you make it through the crowd, avoiding elbows and shoulders of people much taller and energetic than you, the entrance that you need comes into view.

You weren’t just excited for the interviews you were going to watch up close, but also the entire concept of the race. The hustle of engineers in all these garages, working their hardest to get the drivers in and out of the pits with minimal time to waste. Not to mention the drivers themselves, having to sit in the cars for multiple hours over the race weekend with no complaints— they chose to do this, they deal with the consequences.

That’s exactly what excited you. The reasoning for their choice to do this, you wanted to ask each and every one of them why they wanted to do this, what was so interesting?

You guessed their answer would be the same as yours if you were asked why you became a sports journalist.

Keeping your amazement at bay, you observed the race, focused on everything going on even though it was a lot to keep up with. But that’s exactly what you were there for.

You were sitting in the grandstands, intently watching the cars fly past you, when your phone rang. The caller ID said it was your coworker who had also been at the race but disappeared about ten minutes ago.

“Hello?”

She sounded distressed when you heard her voice. “Hey, love. I was wondering if you could take over the post-race interviews?”

Today was supposed to be a sort of intern day for you, meaning you were just going to watch your colleague interview the drivers and better understand what the etiquette is for it. You hadn’t expected to have your first interview today.

“Uh, why?” You asked, in a whisper. “You know I’ve never interviewed anyone before, right?”

“So?” She seemed much more confident in you than you were in yourself. “You’ve studied journalism for a few years now, yeah? I don’t think you’d have taken an internship at SkySports for nothing.”

“I mean, I guess?” You shrug. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to speak to actual drivers, though. What if I make a fool of myself?”

“You won’t if you remember that they’re just people doing their jobs, and you’re doing your job by asking them questions.” She makes a good point and you sigh in defeat.

“Alright, I’ll do it. Send over the information you’ve written.”

“Sorry.” You hear her slightly laugh. “You gotta fend for yourself with that one, hun. It’s a cruel world we live in. Cheers.”

With that, the call ended and you were left with nothing but anxiety weighing on your shoulders. The rest of the race seemed to fly by in mere minutes, your mind too focused on the pressure of your first ever interview.

Well, not first ever.

You imagined the day would come sooner or later, so you’d practise a conversation with one of the drivers by speaking to yourself in the mirror. That, and watching multiple interviews through the years, soaking up every bit of information you could about the process of it.

Before you knew it, you were standing in a sea of people with their cameras, waiting for the drivers to make their way to you.

It wasn’t that nerve wracking when you actually started talking to them, and by the time you got to Daniel, you had lost all feelings of anxiety, instead laughing along to his jokes.

You thought so, at least. A feeling of intimidation crawled up your spine when your eyes locked with Lando Norris, a driver for Mclaren. You noticed the piercing look from across the room as he spoke to a different interviewer, his green pupils tracking your every move as you spoke to Oscar.

The interview with Oscar wraps up and he begins turning away from you. “Good luck on your next race!”

Oscar smiled at you as he walked off to somewhere you could only guess.

If you had been anxious before, you were probably five times as anxious now, because Oscar Piastri leaving the spot in front of you meant that Lando Norris would be replacing him. And, for whatever reason, he was making you incredibly nervous.

You looked down at the ground as Lando approached you, waiting to hear what you had to say. You couldn’t bear looking up at him, knowing he’s already staring at you. But it was part of your job and you had to stay professional.

“Hello, Lando.” You said, cheerily.

“Hi,” he grinned at you, sweaty and all, his dimples appearing for a split second. “How are you?”

“I’m alright, thanks, how was the race?” You asked with a smile, ignoring the butterflies in the pit of your stomach when he smiled at you again.

Lando’s green eyes studied your face, soaking up each detail he missed since the last time he had seen you. He knows you don’t remember him and he doesn’t need you to, it’s kind of nice to feel something without reciprocation from the other.

After a long while, Lando shrugged. “Yeah, uh, the race was pretty good, I mean, I got first place, so I’d say it’s good. Y’know, aside from Oscar’s incident, but that’s not something we can predict, it just happens.”

You watched intently as he explained the race, your eyes oddly drawn to his lips. The pattern at which they move, and the tempting way he pokes his tongue out to tap the corners of his lips, makes you weak.

This was horribly unprofessional of you, and you knew that, but the charms of this young british racer had worked their magic on you, and you weren’t strong enough to resist it.

You felt like it was just the two of you in the room and both of you were trying your damn best not to break, one for more reasons than the other.

“Yeah, it seems like it was a lucky race for you, the pace of your car was incredible to watch.” You pointed out, looking down at the race data on your clipboard. “The RedBull’s were a bit slower this race, do you think that gave you an advantage?”

“Well, they already win races left, right and centre. They have to be bad sometimes.” Lando stifled a laugh. “But, uh, I don’t know. I think it all came down to the car and my ability to control it. The pace was insane, honestly, I wasn’t expecting it to be faster than a RedBull.”

The joke made you giggle and you quickly hid your face by looking away for a mere moment, in an attempt to recollect yourself. Thankfully, none of the cameras were on your face.

“Or it’s just pure talent, I’d say.” You look back up at him, his eyes never once leaving your face. He’s so smiley and it’s contagious, so you can’t help but smile at him, too. “Any plans for the celebration? You must be feeling ecstatic about your first win, so I assume the celebration must be as big as this.”

Lando puts the tube of his water bottle to his lips and takes a long sip, eyes still glued to you. He wasn’t even blinking, far too focused on the shape of your lips and how good they felt that night. That one night you can’t seem to remember.

“I’m not entirely sure, if I’m honest.” He shrugs, tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth, biting back the widest grin you’ve ever seen on his face. “I still have to call my mum and siblings.”

“I’m sure they’re incredibly proud of you,” you smile, politely. He’s still intently looking at you, cheeks now burning red at your comment accompanied by his massive grin.

It was time to wrap up your chat with Lando, but, in all honesty, you really didn’t want to. You felt something brewing in your chest at the mere feeling of his eyes burning into you, and it excited you.

Still, you ignore it. You had to stay professional, even if it was all too much to handle. “It was lovely chatting with you, Lando. Congratulations and good luck next race.”

“Will you be interviewing me next time, too?” Lando asks, making no move to walk away just yet. His eyes narrowed onto yours when you looked back at him, an adorably surprised look on your face.

“Uh,” you look away for a moment, not sure what to say. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I look forward to seeing you again. Maybe.” He gave you another cocky smirk and nodded his head as a farewell, leaving you nothing but a blushing mess in the media pen.

After a plethora of interviews back to back, you were tired beyond words. Your feet were sore, your back hurt, you felt your eyelids close if you stood still for longer than two seconds. The image of your soft hotel bed made you motivated to keep moving through the building and find your way out.

“Oh, hey!” A familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. “Y/N, was it?”

Your eyes find their way to the person behind you and you’re happy to see that it’s Daniel. “Daniel! Hi, nice to see you again.” You extended a hand to shake and he smiled as he squeezed it.

“Was lovely talking to you earlier. You asked such great questions, honestly, it made me really think about my answers, y’know?” You hadn’t noticed how both of you started walking again and he kept up with your pace. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Oh, interviewing?” You ask and he nods eagerly, with the energy of a little boy. “This was my first official day of interviewing, actually. I had to step in for my colleague.”

“No way.” He muses, jaw slack and eyes glimmering with interest. “The way you interacted with me had me thinking you were carrying a load of experience.”

You stifle a laugh and watch the path ahead. “Yeah, well. I practised a lot in my room. You have race sims, I have a mirror and a hairbrush for a microphone.”

Daniel’s laugh echoed in the mostly empty area around you. “You’re funny, too.” He muses once again, shocked by how much fun you can be. “Listen, I know it’s not professional to ask this, but are you free tonight?”

“Oh, uh,” you look up at him and hesitate. “I’m not interested in-“

“No, no,” Daniel waves his hands in the air as if to stop the words spilling from your mouth. “God, no. I was going to ask if you’d like to come to the club later, all of the drivers are gonna be there to celebrate Lando’s win. It could be fun.”

You paused in your steps, brows furrowing as you felt a beam of energy climb up your spine. All of a sudden, your bed didn’t seem like the comfiest thing in the world and you were willing to exchange it for a pair of heels and a dress.

“I’d like that, yeah.” You smiled at Daniel and he reciprocated the gesture.

He gives you a piece of paper with something scribbled on it and you gladly pluck it from his fingers. “Shoot me a text when you’re ready, I’ll give you a ride to the club. Cheers.”

And with that, he disappeared into the car park, the only remainder of his friendly presence being his lingering smell in the air and the scribbled number on the back of a grocery store coupon.

“Thanks, mate.”

Lando’s hand felt heavy as he shook it with someone he barely knew, congratulating him on the win. He’s been stuck in this large group of people for way too long, desperately looking for an escape. And, eventually, he found it— you.

His eyes have been stuck to you for the past fifteen minutes, patiently waiting for the people to finish congratulating him so he could finally talk to you.

When the perfect moment arose, Lando swiftly shimmied between the dancing bodies and made his way to the bar. You were still sitting there, looking as beautiful as the last time he saw you, but now you were right in front of him and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Lando’s voice startles you when he plops down in a bar stool beside you.

You smile at him, feeling the same anxiety crawl up your spine as the last time you saw him. “I’d say the same, but this feels like the perfect place for a race winner.”

“I honestly hated it before,” he shrugged, looking out into the crowd. “I used to party after a podium, second place being the best I’ve ever had.”

“But now you’re here as a winner.” You’re still looking at him when he turns back around. There’s something so nostalgic about the way he looks at you, almost as if you’ve already been there and seen him before. “A victory looks good on you.”

“Yeah?” He flashes a grin your way, raising a brow. “I’ll try to win more then. Maybe I’ll get to see you again that way.”

“I’m free whenever you want to see me,” you blurt. Lando’s eyebrows raise with surprise when you say that and he bursts into a small laugh when you start flailing your hands around in the air. “Sorry, that’s so unprofessional, I didn’t mean to–“

“It’s fine,” he assures you. “I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to get out of here. But that’s so unprofessional of me.”

“Mr. Norris!” You exclaim with a faux gasp. Lando watches with an amused grin on his face as you smile back at him. “I’d like that very much.”

It didn’t take long for both of you to swivel your way past the drunk people in the club and find yourselves in a cab. Lando’s hand made a home on your thigh and you didn’t mind. It felt warm, secure and turned you on when he inched it closer to the hem of your dress.

Time flew fast in the company of a race winner, especially one as charming and attractive as Lando. You didn’t realise how many hours had passed after you had left the club and, frankly, you didn’t really care.

The moments spent with him felt somehow nostalgic, as if you had felt this way before. But you’re sure you just dreamt it. There’s no way you’ve met Lando before and didn’t remember it.

It felt silly to think that, so you just ignored that thought and continued watching the intoxicating way his lips moved as he spoke. He’s been talking about something for the past five minutes and you didn’t hear a word of it, being far too focused on the pattern of his freckles, the dip of his nose and the gentleness of his eyes when he looked at you.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, voice gentle and cautious.

You bit back a smile, eyes flickering between his eyes and lips. “You.”

The nostalgic feeling snuck its way into the back of your mind when he kissed you, his lips and hands feeling like a long lost home. You somehow already knew the melody of his breathing and the pattern of his hair, the familiarity of his kiss starting a fire in your chest. You felt the warmth of his lust spread through your torso, creeping up your neck, softly toying with the giggle in your throat.

Stars spackled on the inside of your eyelids and the harmonious sounds leaving your lips finally drew you back to that night.

Warm hands. Gentle strokes and soft kisses. Careful fingertips trailing their way down your hips. Lando’s tongue danced on your aching bud and you felt the whole world fade away. The mere touch of his fingers on your hips to keep you still reminded you of the last time.

“Mmh, fuck.” Lando hummed against you, the vibrations sending bolts of lightning through your veins. “So good. So fucking good for me, y/n.”

His tongue swirled around your throbbing clit, bringing you that much closer to the edge. The alcohol in your system mixed with the pleasure coursing through your body was a lethal combination. Your legs shook as you felt your walls close around nothing, Lando’s mouth attached to you as if he was a starved man and you were the first thing he could get his mouth on.

“I’m- I-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before making a mess all over his goatee. He licked up every last bit of you, the sweet taste of you making a perfect combination with the aftertaste of whiskey in the back of his throat.

You stayed lying there, eyes fluttering closed and lips parted, deep breaths inflating your chest. Lando watched you, green eyes soaking in every inch of you— he wasn’t sure if you’d remember him this time, so he made the most of every moment spent with you.

After a while of him watching you, you felt Lando get up and come back in a few minutes, a damp towel in his hands. He touched your most sensitive parts with the weight of nothing, carefulness sewn into every movement he made. At that point, you were drifting in and out of consciousness, not fully knowing when the bed dipped under Lando’s weight again.

You felt his arms wrap around you and pull you in, the warmth of his bare skin heating your cheek. You were hesitant to speak, cautious as to not say something wrong. So, instead of speaking, you lifted your head and connected your lips with his again, the minty taste of his lips making you smile.

“It was you.”

Lando hummed into the kiss, as if to acknowledge that it was him, but also to ask what you meant.

You pulled away, fingers immediately making home in his curls. “That night.” A familiar look painted itself across Lando’s face. “I tried so hard to remember whose lips felt like home, and only the weight of yours reminded me.”

“You were thinking about me?” Lando inquired, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face.

You nodded. “Every day since that night.”

Lando smiled before kissing you again. “You never left my mind. I kept reminiscing that night, waiting for fate to magically bring us back to one another.” He whispered against your hairline, lips pressing soft, love-filled kisses against your skin. “Didn’t expect to win two prizes in one day.”

A small laugh slipped past your lips. “What a lucky man you are, Mr. Norris.”

“The luckiest.” He hummed. “Because I finally have you.”

[ace-turned-confused]

love thy neighbour

joel masterlist | read on ao3

pairing: joel miller x f!reader summary: you visit your parents for the holidays, and their new neighbour joel miller makes the trip far more exciting. word count: 3,6k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied & wears a skirt, food & alcohol consumption, christmas & new year celebrations, unspecified age gap, joel gets a sneak peak, smut, fingering, unprotected p in v, spanking, creampie hallelujah, come eating, dirty talk, praise kink a/n: MERRY VERY LATE SECRET SANTA EM @hellfire-state-of-mind !!!! this is over a month late and i've never felt more guilty about something in my life. ilsm you are a GEM! i hope this makes you twirl your hair and kick your feet and melt into a puddle, as you requested. 💛 this is the first fic i’ve managed to finish since SEPTEMBER and idk i’m just proud of myself, times are tough. 🫡 not beta'd

The neighbourhood has hardly changed since your last visit — no fresh coats of paint, no new landscaping, no new drama. The one thing that has changed, is a new face that’s moved in across the street from your parents. He waved to you the first time you passed each other, flashed a contagious smile and a cheeky wink as he collected his post and headed back inside his own home. You’ve been hooked since then.

Your childhood bedroom has a wide window that faces the street, with a clear view of the front of his house. Whether arriving home or leaving, or simply standing talking to someone, you always admired him. You made a habit of going out too — sometimes for no real reason — on the off chance you’d get a closer look at him.

He caught you staring one day as you dared to walk on his side of the street and met him in his driveway — brown tangled curls laced with silver, broad shoulders and arms that filled out his sleeves — you shot your eyes up before you could look any lower, a small smirk and knowing look on his face as he turned around to walk away. He hasn’t given you his name and you haven’t been bold enough to ask. You still stare, just not when he’s looking.

-

Your parents told you the house would be quiet this Christmas, with no extended family or friends — just the three of you spending some quality time together while you’re visiting for the holidays.

It's mid-Christmas morning and you’ve exchanged presents with your parents, with plenty of smiles, hugs and thanks. Your mom sets the table and your dad checks on the food while you get ready for lunch, still wanting to dress nice for the occasion. You hear the doorbell ring through your door, followed by muffled voices. Satisfied with your appearance, you head for the living room, a deep and unfamiliar voice becoming clearer as you enter the room.

There he is — the hot and mysterious neighbour you’ve been drooling over from across the road.

Your mom turns to you as you stand, fiddling with your clothes and unsure how to act.

“Oh, you’re finished! This is Joel, have you met already?”

“No, haven’t had the pleasure,” Joel cuts in and answers for you, standing before you with an outstretched hand. You take it, his hand dwarfing yours, calloused fingers rough against your palm.

“He’s on his own for Christmas, so I invited him to join us.” Your mom smiles at you. “It’s only us three, there’s plenty of food and Christmas cheer to go around!” She claps her hands together, waltzing away to the table.

Joel gives you that same cheeky wink and smile you’ve seen before, but up close it has a much stronger effect than you were prepared for — it’s going to be a long day.

-

Everyone sticks to the usual mundane topics of the weather and traffic and the best fertiliser to use for the lawn. You don’t say too much through lunch, distracted by Joel’s voice and charm and the occasional smouldering look he throws you. Every time you glance at him, he’s already staring at you.

When your parents get up to clear the table once everyone’s well-fed, you jump up instead and volunteer — if you have to watch Joel any longer you might just jump at him across the table, to hell with your parents. His eyes follow you over their shoulders as you leave the room, plates in hand. You look back to the table one last time, catching his eye as he smirks and takes a swig of his drink.

You start to rinse off the plates and put leftovers into containers, laughter and quiet chatter sounding from the dining room. Joel wanders into the kitchen and sets his glass down, leaning against the counter next to you and looking around the room.

“So, uh,” you clear your throat, awkwardly trying to make conversation and avoid embarrassing yourself. “When did you move here?”

“Couple months ago, nice neighbourhood… even better now, though.” You can see him grinning in your peripheral vision.

“Are you coming to my parents’ New Year’s Eve party?”

“I am, why? You lookin’ for your midnight kiss?” he teases.

“I have plans already,” you scoff at him, “I actually wanna have fun on New Year’s, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” he falls silent and angles himself closer to you. “You make the dessert?”

“Mhm.”

“Nice ‘n sweet.” He grabs the dessert bowl from your hands and drags two fingers along the inside.

You watch him, your lips parting as he sucks his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean. What would it feel like if those were your fingers instead? Or, better yet, if he shoved his fingers into your mouth?

He pulls his fingers out and opens his mouth to say something more, but he’s interrupted by your parents as they enter the room. He shoots you his signature wink before giving them his attention, and that’s the last you see of him.

-

The week after Christmas flashes by.

You bailed on your original plans of partying with your friends, coughing up a poor excuse why you couldn't go out with them anymore — with Joel coming to your parents' house again, it’s the first time in years you're willing to spend the otherwise boring last night of the year at home. Maybe you’re foolish for lusting after him, but that’s what New Year’s is for.

After spending the afternoon plating snacks, chilling drinks and fluffing pillows, you now pace in your room, deciding what to wear tonight. Your pre-picked club outfit is far too disrespectful for the new company you’ll be in tonight, but maybe you could make parts of it work…

You ditch the stockings and swap out the heels for flats. Your skirt stops mid-thigh once you make some adjustments, and change your risque top for a more neighbour-friendly one with ties in the front — if you look hard enough you can still spot your bra peeking through the gaps, but nobody here tonight should be doing that anyways. Except for Joel, maybe. You make sure it’s a decent bra in case he does. After all the effort you’ve gone through, you hope he does.

Hijacking the aux as soon as you come out into the living room again — you do not trust your dad’s music choices — you sit pretty with a drink in hand as everyone from up and down the street starts arriving.

You’re cornered by The Nosy Old Couple, getting grilled about jobs, partners and general life choices when Joel walks in. He looks around the room as your parents greet him, eyes finding yours as you try signalling him to rescue you. He simply smirks before turning and walking away — that bastard.

-

Joel watches you the whole night. He really shouldn’t — the neighbour's daughter, definitely too pretty and likely too young — but he can't find it in himself to care. What's the harm in a bit of holiday fun?

He could have saved you from that gruelling conversation, but then he’d have to let you go sooner. And it would look rude, strange, even, to tell your father, thanks for the welcome, but I’d rather spend the night chattin’ up your daughter.

So he settles for watching, for now at least.

The shift from a forced smile to a genuine one, your shoulders relaxing as you get yourself another drink and keep yourself in decent company. His eyes roam now, and he allows himself to stare while in your calm state, the same way you’ve always stared at him from across the street.

The way your lips part and slide over the rim of your glass, the delicate grip of your fingers, the hint of lacy fabric in the gaps in your top. Your almost-too-short skirt and how it hikes up when you cross your legs. Would you let him pull the ties loose and watch it fall open? Glide his hands up your legs and underneath your skirt?

You stand and laugh at someone's joke, reaching for your things. Something falls out of your grasp and you bend over to pick it up, your panties peeking out from underneath your skirt, just for him to see. His jeans tighten just so, the air in the room heating up as he clears his throat. He should look away, but he keeps staring, his own lips parting now as he imagines what’s beneath that fabric.

You turn around and catch his eye, all unassuming and innocent. He wonders if you know what you’ve done. You walk towards him, maintaining that look, and it’s evident you’re unaware. He’ll make sure to tell you.

-

Most of the night has passed already, and you finally get to talk to Joel.

“So much for those plans you had for tonight.” He leans towards you as people push past behind him, raising his voice above the music.

“Oh, uh, my friends cancelled, so…”

“Still hopin’ for a night of fun?”

“Are you offering?”

He downs the rest of his drink, jaw ticked to one side as he stares you down. He dips to speak in your ear, “You should be careful next time you’re bendin’ over in this little skirt of yours, sweetheart… I could see those pretty panties from a mile away.”

You step back from him, mouth agape at his admission — he just smirks at you, his eyes darkening. You hoped Joel would look at you tonight, but it was a long shot. You're deciding what to say when everyone gathers in the lounge — your dad’s put a countdown on the TV, and it’s a minute before midnight. You pull Joel into the hallway, away from the crowd and out of sight.

“So, you gonna kiss me at midnight or not?” You spin to face him, leaning against the wall with a naughty smile.

“I reckon your parents won't be too pleased havin’ their daughter kissin’ an old man like me.” He stands firm, arms folded across his chest.

“Well, they wouldn’t be too happy having an old man like you looking up my skirt…” You trail off, distracted by his arms.

“You’re the dirty girl bendin’ over and flashin’ her panties. Would you have wanted me to look away?”

He unfolds his arms and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you to meet him as he leans to kiss you, his beard and moustache scratching against your skin and you reach up to hold his arms. It’s rushed and desperate and over before you can take in what’s happened, but god you need it to happen again.

He looks around at everyone cheering, hugging each other and topping up their drinks. He grabs your wrist and pulls you through the house without a word.

-

Joel sneaks you out of the house and drags you across the street towards his own. Your eyes linger on his shoulders and back as he unlocks his door. He turns a lamp on once inside and closes the door behind you both, pinning you against it.

“What are you doing?” You ask lazily, taking in his features in such close proximity.

“Givin’ you that night of fun you were wantin’.”

He kisses you again, licking into your mouth and taking his time now as he runs his hands down your body, lifting your skirt to bunch it around your waist. He pushes one hand down between your legs to cup you over your panties and you grind into him — subtly at first, but it’s enough for him to notice and he smiles against you.

“That needy already, huh?” He says lowly, huffing a laugh when you whimper quietly. “Don’t gotta be quiet, sweetheart. Why you think I dragged you here? Ain’t gonna be much fun if I can’t hear how good I make ya feel.”

He spins you around and walks you towards his couch, backing you into the armrest. He pulls the ties on your top and drops it to the floor, fixated on the lace now in full view. He squeezes your breasts, fingers tweaking your nipples through the fabric as he looks up at you again.

“You wear this lacy number every day? Or just on special occasions?”

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, lips parted as he keeps working his fingers, “I wore it just for tonight, for you… in case you noticed it.”

“Oh, I noticed alright,” he chuckles.

His fingers slow down and his hands begin to roam again. You take the reprieve to lift his shirt over his head and drift your hands down his bare chest. You stare at his broad shoulders and torso, almost in awe, as you reach for his belt buckle and undo it. It clinks against the floor, and you make quick work of his jeans, popping the button and undoing the zip. He dips down to kiss you, his hands bumping into yours as he pulls his jeans down and off.

It was mostly a joke when you said you wanted a night of fun — you never expected something like this to happen.

Joel kisses you again, inching along your jaw and down your neck while his hands continue their blind exploration of your skin, caressing and groping and digging into any part of you he gets ahold of. You reach to palm his bulge through his underwear, hard and heavy as heat radiates off of him through the worn fabric.

He shucks your skirt down and off, leaving it in the same growing pile of clothes, his fingers zeroing in on your covered clit. You moan at his movements and he lifts off of you to take in the sight.

He grabs your waist to turn you around, holding you flush to him as he gropes your breasts and grinds into you. You push back against him, a fresh wave of arousal soaking into your panties, his hot breath fanning against the shell of your ear.

“You ready for that fun?”

“Please, Joel,” you whine.

“S’what I like to hear.”

He pushes you down over the arm of the couch, chest flush with the cushions and ass up in the air. He rubs his fingers up and down over the damp gusset of your panties and pulls them down, leaving them hanging around your knees. Now with no barrier, he traces a single finger through your folds, already sticky with need and prods your entrance before repeating the motion.

“Even prettier than that little preview you gave me, she’s soaked for me already.”

His breathing sounds laboured behind you, and you turn as best you can to watch him, eyes falling on his hand as he strokes himself, thick and throbbing.

“This what you wanted? This what you still want?”

You smile almost drunkardly at him, huffing a laugh as you nod, facing forward to rest your head on the couch again.

“Remember, I wanna hear all those noises you can make — dirty girl like you, I’m sure you sound gorgeous.”

He replaces his finger with the head of his cock, dragging himself against you and coating the length of him in your wetness. He slips in slowly, his hands in a bruising grip on your hips as he pulls out only to push in even further. The music from your parents’ party fades from your mind when he finally bottoms out; Joel sighs and you groan as he holds your ass flush against his hips. He stays there, grinding into you and never pulling back.

“Jesus, feels like heaven…”

All you do is whine in response — partly unsure if he wanted a response, and partly unable to say anything else — overwhelmed by Joel and finally getting what you’ve been dreaming of since you first laid eyes on him.

“How you want this, sweetheart?”

A moment passes and he smacks your ass when you don’t answer him. He leans over you, letting his body weight push you deeper into the couch cushions, pushing his cock deeper into you in the process.

“Cause this is how I see it… Your little friends didn’t cancel your plans, did they? They’re all still goin’ out on the town tonight and doing God knows what and fuckin’ anything with a pulse. But you backed out, thought maybe you’d stay home 'cause if there’s anyone you’re gonna fuck tonight, it’s me. Ain’t that right?”

You’re silent again, both annoyed that he has you figured out and relishing that he's on top of you like this.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He lifts himself off you and pulls almost all the way out, leaving just his tip inside your cunt. “Be good and I’ll give ya a real fun story for your friends.”

He spanks you again, giving you no time to react as he snaps his hips into you. You screw your face up at the stretch as he does it again and sets a steady rhythm, the room filled with gasps and grunts and heavy breathing. He smacks you a third time and you moan, loud and unabashedly and you hear Joel chuckling behind you.

“That’s it, good girl. Wanna hear you, sweetheart, hear how good I’m makin’ you feel.”

He’s reaching a spot nobody else has before — undoubtedly the most experienced man with the biggest dick you’ve ever seen — and you know your back is going to be fucked in the morning from how he’s got you draped over his couch, your hips will be tender for days with how tight he’s holding you, and you might not walk straight for a week, but God are you glad you bailed on those original plans.

As heavenly as it is already, you still need just that little bit more. Joel’s already clocked you once, and he’s done it again as he wraps an arm around your torso to pull you up again, his pace never faltering as he presses his chest to your back. The new angle has you seeing stars, and he pushes his free hand down to circle your clit.

“You hear that? Hear how wet you are? God, if I’d known you were gonna take my cock so well I woulda fucked you on Christmas… maybe even before that. You think anyone’s wonderin’ where we are? Anyone smart enough to put the pieces together?”

You clench around him at his lewd confessions and beg him to keep going, so close to reaching your end.

“You gonna come on my cock for me?” He breathes against you, his thrusts becoming clumsier the longer he goes on. “Come on, sweetheart, know you want to. Been such a good girl, lettin’ me fuck this sweet pussy.”

A few thrusts and swipes of his fingers over your clit later and you're tightening around him, head thudding against him as you reach up to grab the arm that’s wound around your chest. Your nails carve crescent moons in his skin and you yell out, and he keeps pistoning into you through your orgasm to chase his own.

His filthy words turn into mere ramblings, muffled when he lowers his face to drag his lips against your skin and breathe you in, tightening his arms around you. His breathing heavy, small moans turn into grunts and groans as he fucks into you one last time, holding you in place as he empties himself inside of you, warm and filling.

He keeps you there, both of you panting for air as you come down and he pulls out with a hiss. He turns you around to face him — you’re still dazed when he leans to kiss you, calm and kind as he cradles your cheeks.

His hands wander down your body and he follows suit, coasting his lips down over your bra between your breasts, over your stomach until he’s crouching in front of you. He peers up at you, pupils still blown wide as he thumbs your folds apart, captivated by how his spend seeps out of you. His tongue darts out, eyes fluttering closed as he tastes himself and licks you clean.

He stands now and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, pulling your panties up and straightening the elastic. His fingers linger on your skin before reaching to do the same with your skirt. He does up his jeans and shakes out his t-shirt, his gaze staying on you while you ensure the gaps in your top are no bigger than when you snuck away from home.

“Maybe we should, uh, get back…” You trail off, boldness quickly fading as you start to second-guess tonight.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods, opening the front door. “So, when you comin’ round again?”

“Huh?”

“What, you really wanna sneak around your parent’s house instead?”

“No! God, no,” you laugh, shoulders relaxing and Joel smiles at you. “I just wasn’t sure if… I don’t want to sound overeager or anything…” “Nothin’ wrong with that, sweetheart. Besides, I know what I’m doin’ next time.” He winks at you, glancing across the street in thought. The party still seems to be going strong. “Night doesn’t have to end right now, anyways.”

He ushers you out the door with a smack to your ass, leaving you giddy and giggling as he locks his door again. You both head back towards the party, bumping into each other as you walk. You smile at Joel and he winks at you one last time before you crack open the door, excited about what the rest of your time here might hold.

np taglist for some pookies who showed interest:

@almostempty @joelmillerisapunk @djarins-cyare @burntheedges @milla-frenchy

@604to647 @evolnoomym @beefrobeefcal @whocaresstillthelouvre @bitchesuntitled

@sizzlingcloudmentality @sixhours @strang3lov3 @guiltyasdave @morallyinept

@mermaidgirl30 @bbyanarchist @vichons @angiewatson @professionalpromqueen

@lordhurn @pidgeispunk @letsgobarbs

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @strangergraphics

[marauder-misprint]

Hiii! So I wanna start off by saying how absolutely in love I am with your writing. It's so fucking amazing and I can never get enough, I swear I've read most of your marauders' fics more than three times cause they just stay absolute gems 😭

I love how you write Remus, he's such a cutie, and I was hoping maybe you'd want to write a little fic with shy!reader x casanova!Remus? Some pining from reader's side, who's not at all popular or well-known and wayyy too shy to ever make a move, let alone on Remus? I'd like it to be fluffy, but it can contain basically anything you want 🫶

Thank you so so so much!

🥰🥰🥰 Thank you for all the love/support and the request!

And if reader won't make a move on Remus, he'll make a move on you. But politely bc that's who Remus is.

'These damn stairs'

Remus Lupin x reader

2k words

cw: fluff, mutual pining

It was a common sight to see: Remus studying in the library at a full table. Occasionally, the other seats were filled by James, Sirius and Peter, but more often than not, they were filled with various girls. He was always leaning over the table to explain something, keeping his voice low enough to not disrupt others. When he wasn’t at his own table, you would watch him offer his assistance to other girls in the area. It was obvious why so many girls loved him and purposefully sat near his table, simply hoping their expression was confused enough to catch his attention.

From what you could tell, he loved it too. How could he not? Pretty girls from every house trying to get his attention. You knew Gryffindor girls were the luckiest; they could vie for his attention in their common room as well and they had the highest chance of sharing a class with him. 

You watched Remus from afar. He was a mischievous genius, part of the Marauders and a prefect. You were a nobody who preferred to stay out of the spotlight. As much as you’d like to have Remus’ attention, you knew it would come with far more eyes on you than you wanted. You made peace with admiring him in secret. You envied the girls with the courage to lean over his shoulder, asking him to read their essay for them. You wished you were a part of the group that surrounded him during quidditch matches. You dreamed that one day Remus might invite you to Hogsmeade on a date, despite knowing that the chances of that were slim. 

You were surviving the day and on your way to the library during your free period. 

At least you were when your foot sunk into a fake step and got lodged. You cried out as your books spewed from your arms, spilling down the stairs. The few students who were around you snickered and walked around you. No one stopped to help you up or free your foot. The embarrassment alone was enough for tears to prick your eyes. You squeezed your eyes shut and took deep breaths to gather yourself.

“Hey, are you okay?” 

That voice. You’d recognize it anywhere. You opened your eyes to see Remus kneeling next to you. He had some of your things that had fallen farther down the stairs. 

“These damn stairs, right?” he joked when you didn’t answer him.

He set your things down a few steps up and then gently reached for your calf. 

“Turn your foot to the left. Then point your toes. It’ll help you wiggle your foot free,” he instructed.

You did as told and soon enough you were free. 

“Thanks,” you said softly. 

You immediately went into gathering the rest of your things.

“Yeah, it’s no problem, love.” He stood up when you did. “I’m Remus, by the way.” Part of you wanted to laugh that Remus thought you didn’t know who he was. Instead, you mumbled out your name and said, “Thanks again, Remus.”

Then, no longer feeling like studying due to your humiliation, you headed in the direction of your common room, holding your book tight to your chest. Remus watched you walk away. He recognized your face from the classes you had together and the time you spent at the library. He had never approached you in the library because of the focus that emanated from your table; he didn’t want to disturb your flow. 

You hoped to put the embarrassment of falling into a false step behind you. You had gotten Remus’ attention, but it wasn’t in the way you wanted. You certainly hadn’t wanted it to be paired with the laughter of your peers. Little did you know how deeply you caught Remus’ attention.

He chatted with his friends outside of the Transfiguration classroom the next day. When you walked by, he smiled at you and said hello. You returned the gesture and hoped you weren’t blushing as all of his friends looked at you. You took your seat and tried to calm yourself down. Simple pleasantries should not send you into such a frenzy. 

Remus noticed your reaction, finding it curious. It didn’t deter him from acknowledging you whenever he was near you. He would’ve been lying to himself if he said he didn’t think your blush was cute. The more he observed you, the more he realized how much you kept to yourself and seemed content to be alone. That, however, made Remus want to get to know you. He wanted to know the girl who hadn’t put herself directly in his path. 

He made sure to stop by wherever you were studying in the library to say hello. He would take a longer route to where his friends were sitting in the Great Hall so that he could ask you a question about homework, whether he actually needed the answer or not. He tried to catch you in between classes, but you proved to be more elusive then. Each interaction left you blushing and flustered, although after two weeks of it, you came more accustomed to it. Remus saw that as progress and hoped you would be open to having a real conversation with him. 

If someone had told you a month ago that you’d be trying to avoid Remus, you wouldn’t have believed them. However, you somewhat were. Every time he spoke to you, you felt like the whole castle was listening in and judging every word you said to him. You assumed that he was just being polite. You assumed that you were just the girl who fell on the stairs to him. 

---

“When I call your name, come get your essay and then you are dismissed,” Professor Flitwick said, holding the stack of graded essays at the front of the classroom. “James Potter, Emmeline Vance, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin.”

The first four students got up and retrieved their essays. You rested your head on your hand as you waited for your name. Obviously they weren’t in alphabetical order, and you assumed it wasn’t grade-wise either since you were confident in the essay you turned in. After a few more names were called, Flitwick called yours. You got your essay, noted the O at the top and left the classroom with a small smile on your face. Maybe it was the order in which the essays were turned in?

“Hey!” Remus called from where he was standing off to the side. 

You kept walking. There was no way that he was talking to you. Sirius or Peter must’ve been called after you. 

Then he called your name. You froze. You could hear footsteps as he jogged over to you. 

“How’d you do?” he asked once at your side. “O! Nice.”

You realized you were still holding your essay and hurriedly tucked it inside of your things.

“Yeah, I put in the work.” 

He gave you his easy smile and then ran a hand through his hair.

“I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

“Um, sure?” 

“Would you like to study with me later?”

You stared at him, unable to breathe. Had he just asked if you wanted to study with him? Well, yes, he had. But it didn’t feel real. Your mind started to spin with worry. You wanted to study with Remus. You wanted to spend time with him. But whenever he studied, he was always surrounded by so many other people vying for his attention. It was bad enough that whenever he talked to you, you could feel the eyes of everyone passing you; you knew that they were wondering why a guy like Remus was talking to a nobody like you. 

Remus said your name, bringing you out of your thoughts. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. I’d like that,” you managed to say.

His smile, which had briefly faltered at your hesitation, relaxed. 

“Great!” he said. “Meet you outside the library after dinner, yeah?” 

“Yeah. Erm, I’ll see you then, Remus.”

Remus turned and headed back towards the classroom, likely to wait for Sirius and Peter if they hadn’t been called already. You took a deep breath to steady yourself before you continued on your own way. You had just agreed to study with Remus and he was the one to ask you. He had actually asked you. And you agreed. 

It didn’t take long for your nerves to spike. You were regretting your decision to agree. The feeling of looming embarrassment hung around you for the rest of the day and through dinner. Part of you debated sending Remus a note saying that you were feeling ill and couldn’t make it, but another part told you that he might not invite you again and this could be your chance to make an impression on him. 

You ended up walking to the library. With each step, you felt your heart rate increase. You were sure that if you weren’t holding onto your things with such a death grip, your hands would be shaking. 

Remus was waiting for you, just as he had said he would. 

“Hi!” he greeted you enthusiastically. 

You smiled at him as he held open the door for you.

“I’ve got a table claimed in the back,” he told you, taking the lead.

Your nerves changed into confusion as you passed Remus’ usual collection of tables. He led you to a more secluded part of the library where his things littered one of the smaller tables with only two chairs around it.

Trying not to sound too ecstatic by the sight, you asked, “Oh, is it just us?”

Remus chuckled softly. “I invited you to study, not our entire year.”

A subtle blush dusted your cheeks.

“Oh… I just… You’re usually…” you mumbled.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. There was that easy smile again. “Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I assumed you’d rather have a more private table.” He paused as he watched your face for a change in expression. “We can move to a different table, if you’d like.”

Your blush became more prominent. He actually put thought into what table you’d like to study at? 

“Oh, no, no. This is good. You’re right. I study better when there’s less people around.”

“Helps with focusing, don’t it?”

“Yeah,” you breathed as you placed your things on the table.

His smile grew. He pulled out your chair and helped you in before taking his own seat. The two of you worked diligently in silence for a while. Every once in a while he stopped and watched you work; he loved the face you made when you focused so deeply that nothing around you could catch your attention. 

“What’d you think of Slughorn’s lecture today?” he asked.

“Hm?” You looked up from your assignment and processed what he had asked. “Kind of repetitive, if I’m honest. I guess some students need the review though…”

“Glad it wasn’t just me,” he smirked. “Good thing there are some pretty distractions in that class.”

You gave him a curious look as you repeated, “Pretty distractions?”

“You know,” he said, resting his elbow on the table, “the same pretty distraction that I have Charms, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Defense with.”

You bit your lip. You had those classes with him.

“Believe it or not, saw that same distraction on the stairs a few weeks ago. Strange how she travels…”

Oh. oh. You blushed furiously before turning your attention back to your assignment. Remus Lupin was not flirting with you. There was no way. 

He let you return to your work, watching you sort through your thoughts for a minute before returning to his own. Once again, you worked in tandem. After a while, you started yawning. You cleaned up your stuff, which caught Remus attention. 

“This was nice,” he said as he started to gather his own things. “I’d like to study with you more, if you’ll have me.”

If you’ll have me. 

“Same time tomorrow?” you offered.

“Same time tomorrow.”

As he watched you leave the library, all Remus could think about was getting you to come out of that shell of yours. Maybe then he’d be able to ask you out on a date. 

[lynnieverse]

hi, absolutely devouring late night talking!! just wondering if you've ever seen meetcutesnyc on tikotk? cannot stop imagining rafe being stopped & asked for his love story especially with how many hs & college sweethearts end up there..... it just fits too good!!! bc u know damn well he's looking for any excuse to talk his girl up and show that rock on her finger... and of course she just gets to smile n wave at the camera, living her best life

so high school // rafe cameron

oneshot

meetcutesnyc au

rafe cameron x reader

a/n: I LOVE THIS IDEA OMG. thank you so much for this and i hope i did it justice!! enjoy :)))

“Excuse me, are you two together?” the cheery voice sounded to your left. Rafe turned first, tugging on your interlocked hands with a smile on his face. You take in the small woman with a microphone––a man with a camera on his shoulder standing next to her––stomach immediately twisting to knots. Pedestrians grumble as they pass, obviously annoyed at the sudden stop in foot traffic. You shuffle towards the curb, the camera following as you do so. 

“Yeah we are,” Rafe said brightly, glancing back at you with only love in his eyes. You can’t help but grin back, the anxiety that came with the camera fading the longer you looked at him. 

“Can I ask how you met?” the woman asked, directing the cameraman so he got the two of you in frame. You snickered, squeezing Rafe’s hand instinctively as he gave you a warning look. 

“Go ahead babe, tell her.” Rafe rolled his eyes playfully and turned his attention back to the camera. 

“Well…we hated each other.”

“Loathed,” you chime in. 

“Okay I wouldn’t go that far,” he argued, bumping your shoulder with his. 

“I would! He’s my best friend’s older brother, so I had to be around him all the time, and he was an annoying boy for the majority of our childhood.” The interviewer laughed, glancing between you both with a twinkle in her eye. 

“Yeah, yeah. And she was a little brat who loved to get on my nerves.” Rafe stuck his tongue out at you. You hold up your hand and purse your lips, ignoring him completely. 

“So what made you change your mind?” 

“Well I didn’t, not for a while anyway. It wasn’t until college that he finally grew up and I could take him seriously.” 

“Listen I only acted that way because I liked you in high school!” he defended for the dozenth time, something that always baffled you. When he first told you that little tidbit of information, you’d spewed your water all over him at a very nice restaurant. 

“Anyway…” you drawled out. “He had to win me over, so he decided to follow me around wherever I went.” 

Rafe groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “You make me sound like a stalker, Y/N!”

The interviewer laughed. “So you pursued her?”

“Aggressively,” you confirm, shaking your head with a fond smile. "Every study session, every coffee run, every party—I’d turn around and there he was. He was such a cockblock to my dating game too; I swear he crashed every date I ever had.” The interviewer stifled a laugh with her hand.

“Yeah that’s true,” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was persistent and charming, okay?” You whipped your head to the side, gaping at him.

“You tripped and spilled your coffee in front of me three times,” you remind him. 

Rafe gasped, pretending to clutch his pearls. “You helped me up! That was the moment I knew, you know?” he commented to the camera. “When you stared down at me, covered in caramel macchiato, and I thought, ‘Damn, she’s the one’.”

“I was laughing at you,” you giggle, shoving his shoulder. Rafe took it in stride, pulling you into his side and kissing the top of your head.

“So when did you officially get together?” she asked, leaning forward slightly, clearly eating this up. 

“Junior year,” you answer, still locked in Rafe’s embrace, surrounded by his intoxicating scent. It never gets old, being around him. 

“When she finally admitted to being obsessed with me,” Rafe added, winking to the camera.

You scoffed. “Yeah, sure.” 

“Tell them about the proposal,” he whispered, nudging you towards the mic. You groan, the blood instantly rushing to your cheeks. 

“Oh God,” you cover your face with your hands. 

“Oh come on, Princess, you love telling people how I got down on both knees.” 

A gasp came from in front of you. “Wait––you what?”

“I panicked okay! I got down on one knee, then I just––wanted to make sure––so I got down on both,” he raised his hands defensively. 

“He looked like he was begging for his life!” you snorted, shaking your head. “But it was sweet. And perfect. And obviously I said yes.” Rafe grabbed your hand and showed your ring to the camera, the light making the moss agate gem shine brightly. You were never really a diamond girl, and he delivered perfectly. 

“Best thing to ever happen to me!” Rafe was smiling ear to ear, cheeks an adorable shade of pink. 

“You guys are adorable!” The cameraman nodded too, shaking the camera a bit. 

“I know,” Rafe said, clearly enjoying this. 

You press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I love you, you weirdo.” 

“I love you more, Princess,” he murmured, squeezing your hand. 

“Thank you guys so much for your time! Good luck with the wedding!” The interview wrapped up, the crew saying goodbye and leaving the two of you on your own once more. Rafe tugged you forward, finally getting back on track to your favorite bagel shop. 

“I was persistent.” he said in mock seriousness, a pout overtaking his face. You burst out laughing, jumping up to peck his lips. 

“Yes you were, baby. You knew what you wanted and boy you got her,” you smirked. Rafe clutched his heart. 

“I love when you quote Taylor Swift at me.” 

“All you are is mean, and a liar, and pathetic––” 

“Okay not that one!” You both laugh, fading into comfortable silence. 

As you approach the front of the shop he pulls you closer, whispering softly in your ear. “I really did always know it was you.”

[theeyecrab]

Closing my eyes, I knew my life was about to end. I was old, loved, and had the chance to see my own children and grandchildren grow, and it was time. I was sick for a while, but it was not painful or sad. I've had a good life, and I was at peace. I just needed one last thing.

“Lisa, darling, could you please give me Everdell?” I asked.

She looked at me, confused, and said “Eh sure dad, but what do you need it for? I thought you wanted to sleep.” I didn’t answer, just smiled, and she brought the game to me anyway. I think she knew my end was near as well. 

I held the game over my chest, and closed my eyes one final time.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t in my room anymore. I was in a very white space, and there was a cloaked figure standing near me. YOUR TIME HAS COME. I heard a voice. Well, maybe heard is not the right word. More like felt. I felt the words inside my head. “I’m sorry if this is insensitive, but, are you Death?” YES. I heard the voice again, and smiled. Then I handed Death my copy of Everdell, and said "I hope you don't mind my assumption, but according to our legends you really like games…This one is my favorite. I just wanted to give you a thank you gift for taking me peacefully." THANK YOU. I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO PLAY THIS GAME, BUT I LIKE IT NONTHELESS. I felt the voice echoing inside my head. “Would you like me to teach you? We can play now if you want.” YES. PLEASE.

And so we sat down, me and Death, and we played Everdell. After a long and fun game, I ended up winning. I didn’t think much of it, and expected Death to take me, but then they spoke again. SINCE YOU WON THE GAME, they said, YOU CAN STAY. ALIVE. IF YOU WANT, WE CAN MAKE THIS A WEEKLY THING. PLAYING THE GAME. I was surprised, but thought, why not? “I would very much love that,” I said, “and if you want we can try different games as well.” YES. Death said, and disappeared. When I woke up the next morning, I was no longer sick, and the game was scattered all over the floor.

And that, my darlings, the story of how your great great grandmother is still healthy at her very old age, and how she plays board games with Death themselves every week. Now, it’s time to sleep. Goodnight.

You hand Death your copy of the board game Everdell. "I hope you don't mind my assumption. Acording to our legends you really like games…This one is my favorite. I just wanted to give you a thank you gift for taking me peacefully."

[sweetascherry1]

I’ll be watching you — Lee Byung-hun

Description: Over the years your fans has slowly watched you and Lee Byung-Hun fall in love. They finally get to see you guys working on a project together for the first time since G.I. JOE. What even better? The promotion for the Netflix hit Squid Games.

Parings: Lee Byung-Hun x Actor F!Reader

Warnings: Some use of Y/N.

2013 G.I. JOE Retaliation Promotion.

The bright lights of the cameras shined on you and your co-star, while the interviewer asked you basic questions.

“So how did the two of you feel with this new casting. Mr Lee who had already played in the original G.I. Joe movie and you who has just now made her debut.”

You look to Byung-hun silently pleading for him to take on the question first. Luckily one look your way and he knew your silent question. Something you had found yourself grateful for.

“The entire cast is full of amazing actors, who are so caring and gentle.” Slowly you felt your nails picking at your cuticles as you thought of your answer. “I had a lot of fun working with these guys — and everyone on the crew makes it so fun.”

You didn’t noticed at first, and honestly neither did the interviewer. He was so slick with the way he slid his hand into yours, stopping your bad habit. Giving your hand a gentle squeeze before you answering as encouragement.

Your voice didn’t waver as you let the warmth of his hand bring you back to earth.

“Working on a project this big, with these actors who I truly admire is something I’m so excited about. This my ‘debut’ and it’s crazy to me that this is all really real.”

Before the interviewer could ask his next question Byung-hun didn’t think before keeping your conversation going. Helping your nerves.

“Going Hollywood is definitely something that is nerve wracking. I remember how crazy the whole thing was for me.”

Your little smile at him made the fans go crazy when the video came out. The hand holding, and little gentle reassurances he would do throughout the entire thing was something fans couldn’t get enough of as they would re-watch it over and over.

—

Photos flashed everywhere, blinding you as you stepped onto the movie premiere. Your dress was gorgeous, just like you. Your hair and makeup styled perfectly, you had honestly felt like a princess.

And in true prince fashion, Byung-hun stepped in when he saw you picking as your nails again.

Smiling at the photographers, he grabbed your hand. Leaning down to whisper in your ear; “your hands are too pretty to mess up. Squeeze mine instead.”

When he straightened his posture, and smiled once again for the cameras, as if nothing happened, you couldn’t help but think maybe that’s when you first felt it.

Devotion, wrapped in admiration.

He had helped you so much with your anxiety, some would say it was inevitable to favor him. “Thank you.” All he did was simply squeeze your hand back.

The blinding lights going crazy over the hand holding. Surely it would cause rumors, but for once you didn’t let it get to your head. Simply holding his hand instead.

—

For Lee Byung-hun, he had only thought of you as a co-worker. While your admiration for the man was so obvious, he couldn’t help but thing it was a silly crush you had because he helped you in tough situations.

He kept it professional, denying at friend invites you sent him, or any drink you’d offer him. Though he changed perspectives after watching you most recent single interview.

“Many of your fans are interested with your relationship with your co-star Lee Byung-hun. Can you elaborate on it?”

Truth was you felt nervous at this question, you didn’t know the right way to answer. Though you knew you wanted to be honest and not let the rumors continue, even if it may disappoint some.

“Ah, well truth be told there is no relationship I can really explain. This movie is the first time I’ve had such a big role.

While filming, it’s true I had quite a few scenes with Storm Shadow, more often than not. While filming those scenes I’d watch the way Lee Byung-hun embodied his character.

It was something I was truly impressed about, and so since our characters were so intwined with each other — we were paired for most promotional videos.”

You took a deep breath before continuing, grateful that the interviewer didn’t interrupt.

“During our first promo video, I was extremely nervous. This is such a big film and I was so in my head — seeing this my co-working held my hand to help with my anxiety.

People who support me loved it. Was all for it, but all it was, was him helping a co-worker out. The same thing happened at the movie premiere.

While on that carpet my heart was pounding and he was there to offer support. That’s all, the rest is rumors. I simple just admire him and someone to learn from.”

You felt a little shaky but ultimately felt better after clearing air. In your eyes Mr Lee Byung-Hun was uncomfortable about the rumors. That’s why he wouldn’t ever socialize much with you, so you had felt proud of yourself for putting an end to it.

On the other hand, him hearing you say you only admire him from a person to learn from had hit him hard. A person he knew actually looked up to him. It was an honor, one he had became proud of.

So when he saw you next, he didn’t beat around the bush.

“I’m a person you admire?” You didn’t have a crush on him like he originally thought, and that’s the moment he wanted you be your friend.

That’s the moment he had devotion towards you. Devotion wrapped in friendship.

—

Your final cast interview. It was a long experience, but an unforgettable one. This whole movie had became something you truly loved, cast included.

“Each of you will read out a card, and say the answer within ten seconds. If you get it, you’ll gain points. Whoever has most wins.”

A simple game to finish it off. Easy peasy.

To the right of you, Dwayne went first. “In ten words, explain the film.” He read off before hurrying to put ten words out.

“Cobra.” One finger up. “Escapes.” Another. “While. Joes. That. Are. Left. Fight. Back.” One last word, but just before he could think of it — getting stuck the timer went off.

The whole crew laughed at his disappointment, and then next was your turn.

“I’m nervous.” You gave one deep breath before reading out your card. “Why should you watch the new movie.”

One. Two. “Have you seen this cast?” Five. Six. “Just look at Dwayne’s muscles.” Everyone laughed.

Dwayne got a little red, causing a little teasing. It was a good moment, a happy moment. So why was Byung-hun laughing?

In fact as it was a viral clip, not you teasing Dwayne, no it was Lee Byung-hun reaction that was viral.

“Have you seen this cast?” Byung-hun kept his entire focus on you, not even looking away once when you spoke. In fact throught most of the interview, he barely paid anyone else much attention. “Just look at Dwayne’s muscles.”

A bitter feeling bubbler under his skin, as he felt his blood hot. His jaw visibly clenched, as he glared at the man in question. Before looking you up as down, his fist the next to clench. Not a single laugh leaving his lips let alone a smile.

It went very viral, and Lee Byung-hun didn’t even try to deny what they were saying. Jealousy, yes. Though it wasn’t because he was romantically interested. He just felt a sense of belonging over you. Not in a toxic way, or at least not in his eyes.

Truth be told you only mentioned to him simply because you didn’t want him to be mad at you.

“What that video going around about?” A simple question. He was in your living room, laying down on your lap, eyes closed while you mindlessly scrolled through instagram.

Instantly he knew what you were talking about and once again he didn’t defend himself.

“I didn’t like how you mentioned him.”

“His muscles.”

A scoff slipped past his lips, “I have those too, you know?” He sat up, and didn’t hesitate to lift his shirt up to show you. His abs briefly capturing your full attention.

“Yea but there’s already enough rumors about us.” That was true, and he knew that but he just didn’t care.

“Let them talk.” He brushed a hair out your face, “we’re friends, and friends go over co-workers.”

Friends, neither of you doubted the word. But we’re friends so devoted to one another? So admirable to the other? So protective? Yet the word was never doubted.

—

Over the years

Over the years, neither of you worked on a project again. That didn’t matter, your friendship was still so ever strong.

Often at each other’s house, getting food, attending events. All your fans had was an occasional post about the other.

Once you posted putting a pretty pink bow in his hair, his face was in complete annoyance.

“Byung-hun. Look at me!” He knew you had your phone recording and he debated on weather or not to snatch before looking at you. Ultimately he settled for a glare.

“My pretty princess.” Oh he just might kill you. His head tilted as suddenly you felt a little hotter as he look up at you. Like he was going to devour you alive. “Princess? I’m the one that pampers you—“ before he could continue the video went black.

It was a fond memory of your and you had posted it. As expected whenever a post involving the other popped up it blew up.

Though his comment made even more chaos. As he so much loves to do. No joke, before he made the comment he laid on your bedroom floor breaking silence as he watched the video.

“How can I make this more chaotic.” You couldn’t help but sigh at him.

I dream so often of shutting your mouth. Any ideas?

It went crazy. Then again you’ve done that before, comment a wild thing on his post.

For instance, he posted a picture of himself sweating. Chain dangling (one you got him) and a devilish smile.

Have my kids, I’ll never talk back.

Yea?

You had purposely also sent him a private audio message, cat calling him.

The uproar your fans had, oh well let’s just say many articles broke out.

It was honestly fun, watching your fans want something so bad and just dangle it. Made the two of you feel euphoric on the power.

Yet that wasn’t the only thing you two had found euphoric.

Eventually at one point the two of decided to drink and drink. None of you think before you both crossed a line that was already so faded.

You kissed, and then kissed. Until you ending up the next morning both naked in bed.

The two of you decided for the best that none of it ever happen again, but even though you didn’t — it doesn’t mean you two forgot. In fact neither of you can look at wine the same.

Though, y’all’s restraint fell apart eventually as the two of you kept ending up in each other’s bed.

Most people wouldn’t be shocked if they knew, but oh the two of you were dumbfounded on why you guys could resist each other.

So began your friends with benefits era. A classic.

As that era ended, you both realized you had wanted more, so eventually causal dating was the next step for the two of you. In private of course.

—

Promotion of squid games

You and Byung-Hun both sat in front of cameras. Each looking at fan made videos. It was nice to see such creativity, or that what you thought going into this.

As the first video played, with weird dancing and animation, you couldn’t understand how Byung-Hun could keep a straight face.

“That was for sure… interesting.” The side eye you gave him, and then the camera was definitely clipped.

“I feel wrong.” Is all you had simply said. Which was true. “Definitely love the work put into this, and I think it’s cool how people made this. Just… not my cup of tea.”

A few more weird videos broke out, and some nice one with people singing the theme song, and etc.

The next fan video was an edit of the two of you. Simply just watching each other as the lyrics in the video played. Romantics clearly intended.

It didn’t surprise the two of you. Byung-hun turned his head to you, laughing a little.

“You know, a lot of our fans watched this show for us being in a film together. Yet our characters actually despise the other.” Your smile felt contagious to him as you laughed back.

“Are we the problem?”

The man simply nodded his head back before the two of you watched the next video.

—

Instagram

Liked by byunghun0712 and 345k others

yourusername Coming soon! ⏰

Username1 Ah! So exciting

Yourbestfrienduser MOMMY?!

byunghun0712 is this how I find out?

Liked by Yourbestfrienduser

Username2 OMFG 😭

Username3 so proud to Stan her

Liked by Yourusername and 455k others

byunghun0712 how come you never buy? @ yourusername

Yourusername cause I’m spoiled.

Liked by creator

Username1 see how me and him both eat McDonald’s? Meant to be trust

Yourusername honestly you’re so real for that.

Username2 AH, I love you in squid games

Username3 Frontman ❎ Hotman ✅

—

Lie detector interview.

“We are going to give you a set of questions, please answer yes or no.”

Nerves picked at your skin as your watch Byung-hun opposite from you.

They would start with true or false trivia, before going into more detail questions. He gave you a reassuring smile before reading out the first words.

“Is your name really Y/N?” Easy. “Yes.” The detector person gave a thumbs up and he went onto the next question.

“Is it true that you play in squid games season 2?” Another easy one. “Yes.” One more true or false. “Is it true you are very nervous?” The look you gave him was the most ‘duh’ bratty attitude ever.

“Yes.”

“Okay, now onto the actual questions.” He looked down at his card, almost laughing before reading it out to you.

“Have you ever injured yourself on the set of squid games?” You knew exactly what he was thinking about, and it took you a moment not to laugh as well.

“During one of my earlier scenes, I was drinking wine, that I thought was grape juice.” Byung-hun placed a card over his growing smile as you continued. “Well no one actually thought I was drinking actual wine. Nor did I. So I ended up getting a little flushed and tripped off my chair spraining my ankle.”

Amusement wouldn’t even began the joy your co-star had as he remembered the day he carried you back to your trailer.

“Did you have to learn Korean for this film.”

You tilted your head as you thought about it. “I didn’t learn it for this film, but I had learned it a while ago to surprise you because I felt bad you had to translate your thoughts before saying them.”

Lee Byung-hun remembers the first time you spoke to him in Korean. In fact he thinks that was the moment he fell in love with you.

You two had become the definition of she fell first but he fell harder.

You use to mess up so much, and he always loved it. Now you’re pretty fluent but he loves the moments where you ask him for help.

“Tell me more about your character.”

“I play a foreign player, that is intended to remind Gi-Hun about Ali. When I get into the games lots of drama, funny and stressful things begins to happen. I don’t wanna spoil it.”

“Well you passed!” As your began to unhook yourself from the machine, “not a single lie.”

“Not like I could.” You would rather be seen as the honest person you were anyways.

You had asked your co star similar questions but one was a heavily asked fan question.

“What’s your relationship with Co-Star Y/N L/N.” Even you began to feel nervous. Dating. You two were dating and had went a very long time keeping your confirmed relationship private.

But, as you both looked at each other you both knew there wasn’t a point in keeping things a secret.

“Dating.”

Let’s just say the PR for squid game was better than gold.

A/N: I have so many WIP, but no motivation to finish them 😭. So this is my very half attempt to get out of this writing slump! Otherwise I might go insane.

[enhaniki-san]

Nishimura Riki as your classmate that's in love you.

warnings: smut, nsfw, cursing, etc.

♱ student!reader who is a mean girl and delinquent but classmate!ni-ki thinks he might be into it.

♱ classmate!niki who keeps on showing up wherever you go.

"what the fuck, ni-ki? do you have a tracker on me or something?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

he replied, "it's just a coincidence." shrugging casually. "don't flatter yourself."

"bullshit." you shot back, crossed arms. "you're always popping up where i least want you."

♱ classmate!ni-ki who's very attentive to you and even though he never actually said it, he's making it painfully obvious how much he likes you.

when the teacher had finally decided to do something about your constant tardiness, you ended up sweeping the dusty classroom floor where ni-ki spotted you.

"what do you want?" you asked when you heard his footsteps. you turned to face him, resting your hands on the broom handle.

he replied, "i'm just going to wait for you."

you rolled your eyes and turned back to your task. "don't you have something better to do?"

"hmm, not really." he stepped into the room, "i think this is more fun."

"watching me clean? oh you've got a weird definition of 'fun'."

he didn't answer. he simply stood there, watching you and even though he is silent, ni-ki's presence was still distracting.

you felt tired suddenly and with a huff, you glanced over your shoulder.

"ca-can you help me?"

the words left your mouth quietly before you could stop them, you instantly regretted it. "my god..." you thought. you weren't used to asking anyone for help, let alone ni-ki's.

your cheeks burned slightly as you turned away. "nevermind..." you said, turning to focus on the floor again.

ni-ki stepped forward and took the broom from your hands without a word.

"hey-"

"i got it." he said, cutting you off. he started sweeping like he'd been doing it all his life and within minutes, the dirt pile you'd been struggling with had already doubled in size.

you stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do or feel with yourself. "you don't have to do everything..."

"you asked for help, so i'm just being thorough." he said, making you flustered.

you turned away and muttered, "thanks, i guess."

"no problem." he replied, still focused on sweeping.

you couldn't help but steal a glance at him. his sleeves were rolled up slightly and his hair was bouncing with every movement.

ni-ki looked so…

and before you could finish that thought, he dusted his hands off with a satisfied smile. "done. anything else you want me to do?"

what is he, a butler?

you stared and blinked at him, unsure how to respond. finally, you shook your head. "no... that's it."

"good." he said, walking past you to put the broom away then he leaned close to you making you step back. "next time, just ask me from the start. you know i don't mind doing stuff for you."

"are you genie?"

"jinny? who's that jerk?"

"the genie from the movie, you idiot..."

ni-ki laughed awkwardly. "ahh the one from movie."

♱ classmate!ni-ki who gets jealous easily when a guy approaches you.

"hey." a voice called. you looked up to see a guy from another class approaching, smiling easy and confident. "do you wanna partner up for gym?"

"ni-ki! here!"

you turned and saw ni-ki standing with a group of guys with a soccer ball in his hands. he was staring at the guy beside you and without hesitation, he launched the ball. not towards his friends though but directly at the guy's head.

the ball smacked into the back of his head with a satisfying thud, cutting off whatever the guy was about to say.

"ow! what the hell?" the guy turned around, rubbing the back of his head as niki jogged over, faking innocence.

"sorry, bad aim." ni-ki said, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips said otherwise.

the guy said something under his breath before walking off, leaving you staring at ni-ki in disbelief.

"seriously?" you asked, shaking your head.

ni-ki shrugged, completely unapologetic. "yeah, so what?" he asked.

you rolled your eyes, kicking another rock as you walked away from him.

♱ classmate!ni-ki who keeps asking you to go to school everyday that you actually started showing up little by little and going in early didn't seem so bad anymore, and not to mention, you're grades were starting to improve too.

you handed back his notes then ni-ki adjusted your tie, his knuckles were brushing against your chest.

suddenly, ni-ki glanced at his watch then cupped your face gently. "i gotta go before someone sees me hanging out with a bad girl." he teased, grinning while anticipating your reaction.

you raised an eyebrow, scoffing. "oh, so you're embarrassed to be seen with me?"

his lips curled into a smirk, "i'll kiss you in front of everyone if you want." he said, adding a laugh.

you eyes widened, heat started to rush to your cheeks. flustered, you pulled his hands away. "you just said-"

"i'll see you later!" ni-ki interrupted, spinning on his heel with a playful grin before sprinting off, leaving you standing there, completely stunned.

"that guy..."

♱ classmate!ni-ki who teases you about your handwriting but secretly keeps every note you've ever written for him.

♱ classmate!ni-ki who kept asking to copy your homework, but it's actually just an excuse to check if you did it right.

♱ classmate!ni-ki whom you unexpectedly started making out with, one night while studying at your house.

and when he stood and stretched after, you accidentally looked at his pants where his dick were straining against the fabric, making a tent on his sweats.

you quickly whipped your head away. but ni-ki noticed and laughed as he walked towards the bathroom. "yeah, but i promise it's nothing you can't handle."

♱ classmate!ni-ki who seems to be really patient with you.

you wandered through the library then you spotted niki sitting by the window. his head were leaning back against the seat, eyes closed and looking so peaceful.

your heart ached slightly. you sat down quietly beside him, trying not to disturb him.

and as if sensing your presence, ni-ki's eyes fluttered open. a small smile formed his lips as he shifted, putting his arm on the back of the seat behind, welcoming you. then, without a word, he rested his forehead against your shoulder.

"i missed you." he murmured, his voice were low and sleepy.

you swallowed hard, heat creeping up your neck and cheeks. "what happened the other day…" you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. "did you tell anyone?"

ni-ki lifted his head slightly, his expression turned into worry. "no, of course i didn't."

"good…" you muttered, letting out a shaky breath you didn't realize you'd been holding.

he smiled faintly and rested his head against your shoulder again, his hand grabbed yours, caressing it, as if reassuring you.

"i- it's not a big deal, right? niki?" you asked.

ni-ki's jaw tightened for the briefest moment, his outward calm masking the storm that's happening inside. maybe it's just making out but the truth? he's been thinking about it nonstop, replaying every detail in his mind and it gave him more clarity just how much he likes you... and that he had probably stroked his dick thousand more times since that day.

but he wasn't about to let you know that.

"no." he whispered, his lips brushing close to your ear, "it's not."

you turned to him, your eyes lighting up with relief. "great! thanks…"

before he could respond, you stood abruptly, brushing your skirt down. "well, i've got to go now. see you!" you said, smiling while giving him a quick wave.

ni-ki watched you go, his hand still resting on the seat where yours had been moments earlier. he sighed confused, running a hand through his hair.

"yeah, sure." he muttered to himself, half-heartedly returning your wave. his eyes watched you until you disappeared from view, and then he leaned back in his chair, the ache in his chest stronger than ever.

♱ classmate!niki who uses your birthday as his phone passcode.

♱ student!reader who's slowly getting more conscious and aware about how popular ni-ki is, but he's yours.

you went back to class where you notice girls were chatting together. "niki asked me to wait for him after class!" a girl squealed nearby, her excitement cutting through your thoughts.

your ears perked up liked a dog then stepped closer to eavesdrop.

"do you think he'll ask you out?" another girl added.

you scoffed audibly, unable to help yourself. the sound drew their attention and you froze as their curious gazes landed on you. blinking awkwardly, you mumbled an apology and quickly walked away.

you: are you busy after class?

you: are you going somewhere with someone?

ni-ki: oh, right. i'm just going to talk to the new class representative. like an orientation thing.

ni-ki: i can cancel, though.

you laughed loudly and shook your head.

you: no, no! don't cancel. we can hang out later.

later, the two of you were lounging on your couch, the TV playing in the background. ni-ki had his head resting on your lap, scrolling aimlessly on his phone but after a while, he sat and he set it aside. you could feel him staring at you.

"what?" you asked, not bothering to look away from your own phone.

he didn't answer immediately, instead he gently moved your hair to the side. his fingers were brushing lightly against your neck.

"stop." you muttered, still scrolling.

ni-ki chuckled softly. "i don't want to."

sighing, you set your phone aside as well, giving him an exasperated look. "why the hell do you keep doing this?"

"doing what?"

"i don't know, maybe the flirting, doing everything for me, following me around-"

"oh, i thought you already knew." ni-ki interrupted.

"knew what?"

"that i like you." he said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

you blinked, taken aback, before scoffing. "how can you say that so casually…" you muttered under your breath.

he smirked at your reaction. "what? it's true. i thought you knew."

"i know that! but i just never heard you actually say it until now." you replied, your voice quieter than before.

ni-ki sat up slightly, cupping your face in his hands and forcing you to meet his gaze. "i like you, y/n."

you turned your head slightly. "i- i said i know that… you don't have to repeat it."

his lips curved into a mischievous smile. "you shy?"

you pushed his hands away, cheeks flushed. "i'm not!"

ni-ki didn't buy it, a chuckle escaped his lips. he reached down and grabbed one of your thighs, effortlessly pulling it over his lap.

"i bet you're going to stop being like this once i become your girlfriend." you mumbled.

he shook his head with a smirk. "hmm, i don't think so."

"rea- really?"

he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. "yes," he murmured. then, his arms wrapped around you. "come closer."

you scooted closer to him, your heart pounding as he tilted his head, capturing your lips in a series of soft, gentle kisses. slowly, the kisses deepened, his hands sliding to your waist.

your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt as his lips trailed down your jawline, every touch of his lips on your skin made you shiver.

breathless, ni-ki paused, his lips hovering over yours.

"you're hard." you said.

he kissed you again, deeply before pulling away slightly. "it's okay."

"but i want to..." you whispered against his lips. ni-ki smiled, reaching down and with a slow, deliberate motion, pulled his pants down, revealing his erection that's pulsing with anticipation.

he felt a rush of heat as your eyes locked onto him, the intensity in your gaze sending shivers down his spine. he reached out, cupping your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

his cock throbbed when he felt your fingers around it, light as feathers, stroking his hard length.

ni-ki's breath hitched as you lowered your head, your lips following the path your fingers had taken. "that's good..." he groaned out as you took him in your mouth. the sensation was electrifying, sending waves of pleasure crashing through him. your head bobbing up and down, gagging each time his cock hit the back of your throat.

he gripped your hair, his fingers tangling tightly in the soft strands causing slight pain you chose to ignore.

"yes, just like that." he managed to gasp, breath catching in his throat while arching into your mouth as the pleasure became overwhelming. ni-ki shuddered, a deep guttural sound escaping him, hips bucking wildly as he came, a hot burst of release flooding your mouth.

cum started to drip in the corner of your mouth, "don't let it out." he said, wiping the remains as he watched you swallowed it like a good girl, your eyes locked on his.

you sat beside him with a smirk playing on your lips. "you're a freak."

ni-ki chuckled at your remark. "for you."

you started making out again, the kiss charged with the afterglow of what had just happened. then you felt his hand slip down, stroking his member, which was already starting to stiffen again.

"you're still hard..."

"i know, right?" ni-ki groaned, looking so needy. "can i put it inside you?"

a/n: the only way i could write these days lol

please read Nishimura Riki as your boyfriend

read part-timers!niki x reader

read part-timers!niki x reader part 2

read snitch - reader x niki

read touché - niki x reader

read touché - niki x reader part 2

read exes - niki x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Man Called Danger 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You avoid drama, you avoid confrontation, and overall, you avoid men. But some men can't be denied. ~ short!late 30s reader

Characters: biker!Bucky Barnes

Note: I saw a photoshoot and lost my mind.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sigh and set the phone down, tilting your head back as you close your eyes. Exasperation, frustration, helplessness.

This is why you never had kids of your own. Your own teenage years were tough enough. Well, life has continued to shout that lesson in your face; things don’t always turn out how you expect. Or how you want. 

Let her make her mistakes, you tell yourself. No, no, you can be passive in your own life but you took on this responsibility. You can’t just wait and see how it turns out. Not like your mother did. She only got lucky you didn’t end up on a corner or like her. 

You take a deep breath and run your hands over your face. Your mother taught you many lessons without meaning too. Men, kids, all that domestic stuff is just a trap. You’re better off without having to figure out the mistakes of others.

That’s why you did this right? Because you want your sister to learn the same thing, to avoid the consequences of youth and short-sightedness. To escape that family curse that keeps you so cautious. 

You grab your jacket from the front door. She’s nineteen. Nineteen. An adult. You’re not her mother. No, but you won’t let it happen. Not to her. Not to that baby you spent your nights bottle-feeding as your mother spent her stipend at the bar or drove around with Robbie from down the street. 

It’s underhanded. Not what you should do. Not respectful at all but after the last time, you couldn’t let it go. You open the app on your phone. The dot that is your sister’s phone pings in the map. You zoom in and squint as you stand on the doormat. Really? 

You lock the front door and come down the front steps. The deep blue evening is starless as only the yellow street lights offer clarity. Oh, everything is clear. The apple is not falling very far. 

You drop your phone in the cup holder and turn the engine. The grumpy old Honda chugs to life and the stick cranks loudly as you put it in reverse. You don’t have much but you have the one thing you always craved; stability. You manage with what you have. 

You ease your foot off the pedal as you catch yourself speeding down the forty zone. You idle at the sign before turning onto the next street. You make a zigzag onto the main road. Your nape itches with impatience. How the hell did she get all the way out there, anyway? 

You grip the wheel and snarl at the windshield. You’re not a mother. You don’t have a maternal bone in your body. You were raised to be wary. By the time your sister came around, your mother wasn’t present enough to make much of an effort or impact. You suppose neglect can be just as lingering as resent. 

You keep one hand on the wheel as you chew your thumb. For all your attempts to avoid this fate, you find yourself where you didn’t want to be. Maybe not technically or even legally, but you’re stuck cleaning up this mess. 

You pull up to the bar at last. Take a breath. You are not an angry person. Not like your father. Yes, the surge comes from time to time but you control it. You repress it until it’s only a flicker in your stomach. 

You get out and lock your phone. You pocket your keys as you approach the door. Nearly wenty years since you’ve been in a bar, never of your own volition. You stare up at the marque. 

You were the same age as your sister then. The place was glowing and hazy. You entered to the clink of bottle and the buzz of the old juke box. Darts pounded into the bullseye and cues clacked on solids and stripes. Your mother was there hanging off a greasy man in flannel. She was too drunk to answer your question as you held her child on your hip. 

“Mom, where’s the money?” 

It fades away with the voice from your left. The man stands with arms crossed, “ma’am, you can go in. I don’t needa see ID.” 

You shake your head and make yourself enter. Your reluctance slows you along with the overwhelming wall of noise. Voices all around, music, glass meeting each other and tabletops, laughter, coughing, and snarling. The dim is lit only by the bulbs beneath the black shades, hanging from the ceiling. You squint to see through the glazed din. 

This isn’t your place. This is never what you would do for fun. Drinking, talking to strange men, spending what free time you have rotting away in this pit. 

You hear a familiar octave. Eva trills with laughter. Not that sardonic snort she gives you when you try to offer her some sense, no, that tinkling noise she uses when she wants something. It’s not a surprise, there aren’t too many reasons for a girl her age to be here. 

You find her along the bar. She sits sideways on a stool, one leg draped over the other. She’s everything you’re not old. Young, slim, and tall. You never grew much after eighth grade and you can’t do anything to stop time from its work. 

You cross the bar as the man next to her chortles and winks at her. His hand is on her stool, just by her hip. He looks about your age. You grit your teeth. 

You’re not brave or bold. You learned to survive by staying out of the way but you can’t just walk away from this. You know what older men want from women half their age. 

You clear your throat as you come up next to them. Eva ignores you as the man sends you a sneer, “can I help you?” 

You cross your arms. You’re not good at confrontation. Not with strangers and definitely not with men. 

“Eva,” you focus on your sister, “I’ve been waiting for you--” 

“Don’t pay attention to her,” she flutters her fingers. 

“Eva. You said you’d be home at eight--” 

“Ugh, you’re not my mother, okay? We both know where she is so just go away,” she snarls. She’s drunk. When she’s a few deep, she gets mean. 

“She’s grown,” the man insists. 

“She’s my sister, I’m talking to her,” you turn so your back is to him and you’re almost between them. “Eva, I got that job lined up for you--” 

“She said fuck off,” the man growls. You tune him out. 

“It’s good. You can take the year to build the reference then apply to the community college--” 

“You’re embarrassing me,” she hisses. 

“Would you get out of here?” The man pushes you so hard you stumble. You hit a table and gasp as the edge jams against your ribs. The people sat their grumble at you for spilling their drinks. 

“Johnny!” Eva cries out. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“You told her to get off,” he sneers. 

“Yeah, but you can’t just do that,” she whines. 

You steady yourself and apologise to the patrons at the table. You hug your middle and swallow down the pain. You swore you would never be pushed around by another man. 

You turn and march up to the creep. “You feel big picking on women? Huh? You feel like a man going after teenagers? Cause a woman your own age wouldn’t put up with you?” 

Eva tugs on your arm and says your name, “please, don’t. What are you doing?” 

“Do it again,” you goad. The words come out naturally.

You’re shocked by yourself but your reticence is dulled by that hereditary spark. That flame you’ve been tamping out for decades. Not like him. You are not him. 

“Pfft, don’t be a bitch. You already cockblocked me.” 

“No, you want to pick on me, pick on me.” You spit. 

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you here?” Eva snivels. 

‘Why are you here?’ Your mother drunkenly slurs. ‘I’m just having some funnnnnn.’ 

You stare at her. Eva wriggles and cries on your hip. You hush her, trying to comfort her. She’s hungry. You don’t have anything left in the can. 

‘Mom, that money was for her. Mom, where is it? Give it back.’ 

She chuckles and caresses the head of the man she sits on, “go talk to Chuck at the bar, he might give you a refund.’ 

Your name draws you out of the past. Eva shakes you as you snarl at the man. Your hands ball to fists. 

“There a problem?” A gravelly timbre undercuts your rage. 

Eva babbles again. 

“Walker,” footsteps stomp closer and Eva pulls you out of the way. 

You watch as a dark-haired man pulls the blond from atop the stool. He has him by the scruff, “what’d I tell you about fighting?” He glances at you then the foamy spill leaking onto the floor from the table as a server tries to sop it up. “You hitting women in my joint?” 

You quake with anger. This man thinks he’s a saviour. You don’t need him to defend you. In here, they’re all the same. 

“You better not come back,” the brunette growls and hurls the blond onto the floor. “This is the last time I’m tossing your ass out.” 

You watch the man’s shoulders strain the leather of his jacket. He’s broad, taller than you, like most, and about your age. He faces you. His hair is pushed back, the tails winging out behind his nape, his beard is thick and laced with silver, and he wears a golden medallion around his neck. His blue eyes scour you and Eva. 

“You alright?” He asks with a stitch in his forehead. 

“Just fine. Leaving,” you say as you twist your hand around to grab Eva’s arm instead. 

“I don’t put up with that in here. I saw that man up on your daughter and I shoulda stopped it earlier,” he intones. 

You scoff. 

“Look, you can have a drink on the house--” 

“I don’t drink,” you show your palm. “Excuse me.” 

You step around him and drag your sister with him. Under the ripple of anger, is fear. These men are dangerous. You forgot that at some point. Don’t ever forget that. You just wish Eva could see the same. 

You take her to the car as she stumbles in her heels. You open the passenger door and let her go. She gets in and you resist the urge to comment on her outfit. She can wear short skirts and crop tops, she’s an adult, but it’s too cold to not have a sweater. 

You go around and get in the driver seat. You sit there and stare at the wheel. You close your eyes and inhale. 

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” 

“Eva,” you snip and open your eyes. You brace the wheel as you look at her. “You saw what that man did. I’m a woman with no value to him, so when he loses interest, what do you think happens to you?” 

She mopes and looks at her lap. She twirls her thumbs round each other and sniffles. “I was only having fun.” 

“You can’t find someone your own age? Or maybe a hobby. Try the library,” you run your hands over your forehead. “I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to act like your mother, I want to be your sister. I want you to do better.” You slap your hands down on your legs. “You can make your decisions however you like but I just want you to think before you do.” 

“I’m sorry--” 

“You’re sorry. Again. You keep doing it,” you relent and slacken against the seat. “You’re not a kid. We both have to accept that.” 

You jam the keys in the ignition and turn. You sit up and peer around the lot. Your eyes snag on the figure standing in the glare of the marquee. That man in leather with the medallion. He watches calmly. 

You lean on the gas and steer around the lot. As you come closer to the bar, he waves with two fingers and winks. You frown and put your attention ahead of you. You just want to go home and go to bed. 

[scream4toji]

Hi I love your fics! Can I request make-up sex with Toji?

(thank you for the request 💕 sorry it takes a little while to get to the smut. Gotta build up the mood yeah?)

+ 18 only nsfw

The house always looks small and tight when you are trying to avoid him. After a heated argument, you give him the cold shoulder and squeeze past him in the kitchen while he makes a sandwich for himself. Your soft body slightly brushes up against his rigid frame. He purposefully didn’t budge to give you space to pass through between the island and the kitchen counters.

Your hand almost itched to smack his ass but you made a tight fist and walked towards the fridge, grabbing yourself a soda and making your journey back out of the kitchen.

He just quietly watched you struggle past him again, feeling a small tug on his lips which he fought off in case it pissed you off any further.

It had been 3 days now. Three days of sleeping on the couch. Luckily those 3 days were working days so they did pass by quickly. But today was the weekend. And only 11am. Time dragged.

And you felt it too. You woke up late hoping that staying in bed would kill some time but the queen size bed felt empty without him. Your mind just wondered and it was best to kick start your day by going out for a morning walk.

You got a lot done that morning because Toji wasn’t there groping you or humping you every hour on the clock. He had the tendency to let you know how much he wanted you. He restrained himself during the week just to give it to you ten times during the weekend.

Now you were missing his touch. His voice. His love.

You grabbed your iPad and sat on the couch to do some reading or mindless scrolling to keep yourself distracted. But it was hard when he was always there, in your face. You noticed him from the corner of your eyes as he entered the living room and sat down on the couch beside you, taking a huge bite of his sandwich and flipping on the TV. The soft cushions shifted as his large frame occupied the seat beside you. You try to ignore him and focus on your screen. He purposefully makes it hard for you to focus and continues to shuffle, irritating your last nerves.

“Would you quit with this fidgeting!”, you snap at him.

“Cant get comfortable with a hard-on”, he explained, spreading his legs out to give his crotch some space.

You roll your eyes and set your iPad aside. “Is that your way of apologizing?”

“Nah. I just answered your question. I didn't ask ya to suck me off. Unless ya wanna?”, he grinned and took another bite of his sandwich while closely observing you.

You narrow your eyes, letting him know you won't be the first to cave. Not until he apologized first. Oh, you can't even remember what the argument was about anymore. You just want someone to apologize so both of you can get back to your regular Saturday program, fucking like rabbits.

But he won't apologize. His ego was too bloated it gave you heartburn.

You can't be around him. You were this close to caving in, his clothed erection making it more difficult to stay committed to your resolve. Just when you were about to get up and leave, you felt a strong grip on your wrist. “Sorry”, you heard him mumble.

“What was that?”, you turn around and ask.

While still holding the sandwich in one hand, he undid the buttons to his tight pants and popped out his hard dick to give it some room to breathe. “Me and my dick give. Sorry”, he grinned while shamelessly stroking his cock in front of you.

His apology didn't seem genuine. But he could never hide the fact that he needed you.

You slowly straddle his lap, careful of his dancing cock and wrap your arms around his neck. You gave him one of the most starved kisses possible, almost ready to rip his lips off. His one hand rests on the small of your back and his other still carried the half eaten sandwich. He returned your kiss with just as much ferociousness, both of your angers slowly dissolving away with each passing minute.

You finally peel away from his saliva coated lips to catch your breath. His exposed cock was nicely snuggled between both your bellies and the rubbing friction excited it to the point of leaking some pre.

You stand up to pull down your leggings and your panties all at once. You spread your legs to reveal your soaked pussy lips. Toji takes another bite of his sandwich and slowly guides you on top of him.

“Ugh why are you so thick down there”, you let out a groan from discomfort as you try to sit on his cock. His veiny girth stretches your opening and you only got pass the tip.

“Shoulda let me fuck ya in the middle of the week. Hump day on hump day”, he joked, guiding you by the hips onto his length.

It doesn't take long for your body to relax and recognize his invading cock. You take nice deep breaths, your previous anger and anxiety had you tensed up. Toji massaged up and down your spine with one hand, trying to get you to relax around him.

“Not complain’ though. Tight as a virgin today”, he commented.

You just brush off his remarks and slowly start to move your hips up and down, feeling your body relaxing further with each thrust.

Toji took one final big bite of his sandwich and wrapped his hands around your waist to power back at you with raw strength. You arch your back as he hits all the right spots and has you cumming within a matter of minutes.

“Babe you outta let me fuck you during the week. Ya loosin’ the stamina”, he suggests while still hammering away into your fluttering cunt.

You are still convulsing on top of him and he pulls you into his chest, hugging you protectively and apologetically, his hips not stopping for a single moment. He had to make up for the lost time.

“‘m sorry...doll. Le’s not.....fight.…again”, he managed to scramble out of his mouth before painting your insides a nice shade of white.

You think that was all it took? It was a five hour apology. He apologized in the kitchen. In the shower. On the balcony. In the car as you went to grab some take-out lunch because you burnt the fish because he was fucking you mad. And finally the apology ended up on the bed. He had you on your back, fingers interlaced above your head and he went at a slower pace this time. His sensitive red cock was ready for a break. So was your sore sloppy cum drippin’ pussy.

“Oh, did i say ‘m sorry?”, he asked between his gentle casual hip thrusts and sweet tender kisses.

“Hmmm like five times”, you mentally counted how many times he came inside or on you.

[paperstorm]

The final chapter is up! We had so much fun writing this all season and thank you every single person who commented or kudos'd or just read this fic. Here's a tease from the last chapter. If you're looking for both morning sexy times and the happiest of endings for this little family, we got you covered 😉

Jonah flops against him and Carlos moves in closer on his other side, the two of them bracketing him like protective bookends.

“How’d you sleep?” Carlos asks him.

It might be too complex a question for a three year old, but Jonah grins up at him and brightly answers, “I have a race car bed!”

“You sure do!” Carlos agrees, reaching down and smoothing stray hairs out of Jonah’s eyes.

Jonah looks to TK and asks, “When is Daddy coming home?”

For a moment, the question twists like a GI infection in TK’s gut. He exchanges a sorrowful glance with Carlos, who sadly shrugs a shoulder. They have so much to learn, so many things to figure out on this new adventure together, and how to talk to someone this young is something TK knows he hasn't mastered just yet.

Carefully, he answers, “I don’t know. It might not be for a long time.”

“Oh.”

“But,” TK continues, slouching further down onto the pillows and snuggling in closer, “you’re gonna live here, now, with me and Carlos. And we love you so much. And everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Okay,” Jonah answers, easily accepting his answer, at least for now.

TK breathes a sigh of relief. TK knows it isn’t the end of the conversation. Jonah’s so little, he has to be so confused, and that makes TK’s heart hurt. But it’s a conversation they don’t need to have this morning. He looks at Carlos again over the top of Jonah’s head. Carlos nods at him reassuringly, moving in closer from the other side so they can cuddle Jonah together.

“Can I have breakfast?”

“Of course you can. What do you want to eat?”

“Pancakes!” Jonah decides.

“Pancakes it is,” Carlos replies. “You two hang out for a bit, I’ll get them started.”

“Stay?” TK asks Carlos quietly, circling his wrist with his fingers over Jonah’s body. “For a few more minutes.” 

Carlos pauses and looks between the two boys in his bed. He must be feeling what TK is feeling, the overwhelming emotion that comes with experiencing their first morning together as a family of three, instead of two. Carlos nods quietly and settles back against the headboard. He lets his arm drape over the pillows that have flattened during the night until TK is curled under it and Jonah is snug between them again.

“I’ll get started on breakfast soon, okay? Unless you’re so hungry now that your stomach is turning into a monster.”

Carlos tickles Jonah’s belly and he giggles. “No,” he says confidently, like a monster could never hurt him. 

TK observes quietly, feeling like he’s in a dream. He knows nights of crying and fear are around the corner, where Jonah wakes up confused and scared and missing his dad. TK knows that it’s not all smooth sailing from here, but right now he looks at Jonah’s resilience in wonder, and Carlos’ natural ability to bond with him, and he feels like the luckiest man in the world.

“Good,” Carlos tells him. “Because you know what the best part about today is?” 

Jonah looks up at Carlos in wonder, four big brown eyes staring at each other. TK is in so much trouble with these two. He could let them get away with anything. 

“What?” Jonah asks, hanging onto every word Carlos says like Carlos is already his hero. TK knows the feeling. 

“We don’t have any plans. Which means we get to sleep in and then do whatever you want.”

Jonah’s eyes grow even wider and his head whips over to TK as if to confirm Carlos’ words. “Whatever I want?” 

TK smiles, squeezing Jonah’s arm. “Whatever you want,” TK confirms. Maybe he and Carlos can be the fun brothers for one more day and spoil this boy beyond belief. He deserves it. Tomorrow, they’ll begin to figure out how to be parents that say no and set limitations, but today, Jonah can get whatever he wants. 

“I want ice cream!” Jonah cries out, and both TK and Carlos laugh. 

Carlos meets his gaze over the top of Jonah’s head, and TK nods. 

“We can do ice cream,” Carlos agrees. “But maybe this afternoon, huh? It’s supposed to be hot.”

“Hot!” Jonah repeats. 

TK chuckles. “Yeah, you’re not used to this, bud. It gets way hotter here than it does in New York.” 

“It does?” 

“Mhm. Think summer all the time.”

Jonah’s grin goes wide. “Yay,” he cheers. “Can we bring Lou-Two with us?”

TK laughs again. “To get ice cream? Probably not, he likes staying here. But you can help me feed him some red peppers later.”

“Okay!”

They fall into silence for a few blessed moments and TK’s gaze naturally drifts to Carlos again. Carlos is already looking back, and his fingers dance along TK’s neck. 

‘Love you,’ Carlos mouths, and TK smiles. 

‘Love you too,’ TK mouths back, and then puckers his lips to ask for a kiss. 

brighter in the morning

co-written with the lovely @paperstorm <3

Sometimes nights together are hard to come by, but TK and Carlos find ways to connect as husbands in the morning. A series of 12 mornings together for each of the 12 episodes in season 5 (plot permitting …)

Chapter One: 5x01 - 7.0k

Chapter Two: 5x02 - 3.8k

Chapter Three: 5x03 - 3.9k

Chapter Four: 5x04 - 2.4k

Chapter Five: 5x05 - 4.2k

Chapter Six: 5x06 - 6.6k

Chapter Seven: 5x07 - 5.7k

Chapter Eight: 5x08 - 2.8k

Chapter Nine: 5x09 - 3.2k

Chapter Ten: 5x10 - 5.3k

Chapter Eleven: 5x11 - 4.6k

Chapter Twelve: 5x12 - 5.4k

[cloudyluun]

Office Hours (p.3) | professor!harry

Summary: The morning after brings new complications as boundaries are tested, feelings deepen, and secrecy becomes harder to maintain. As the reality of their forbidden relationship sets in, tensions rise—both in and out of the classroom. When an unexpected encounter at the university forces them to confront the risks they’re taking, you’re left wondering if desire is worth the cost.

A/N: Back with part 3 of Office Hours! Thank you so much for all the love on the last chapter—your support means everything to me. This part raises the stakes even higher, blending tension, passion, and the ever-growing risk of their dangerous connection. Let me know your thoughts, and as always, if you want to be on the taglist, click here!

Word Count: 3,7k

Warnings: Smut (morning-after sex, desk sex, possessiveness, power dynamic, praise kink, slight jealousy), forbidden romance, angst, emotional tension, secrecy.

[Part 1] [Part 2]

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The morning light filters through the blinds, soft and golden, casting long streaks across the room. The warmth of the sheets, the steady rise and fall of the chest beneath your cheek, the scent of skin and faded cologne—it’s all grounding and disorienting at once. For a moment, reality is distant, replaced by the slow hum of contentment curling through your limbs.

Then, it settles in. Where you are. Who you’re with. What happened last night.

Your breath hitches as you shift slightly, your bare legs tangling further with his. The movement stirs him, and before you can pull away, a strong arm tightens around your waist, holding you in place. A deep sigh rumbles through his chest, followed by the husky rasp of his voice against your temple.

“Morning, love.”

Your body betrays you before your mind can catch up, warmth blooming across your skin at the endearment, at the way his lips brush lazily against your hair. You tilt your head just enough to meet his gaze, and the tenderness there makes your chest tighten. This is dangerous. This is something you shouldn’t be allowing yourself to enjoy.

But in this moment, wrapped up in him, it’s impossible to care.

“Morning,” you whisper, voice laced with sleep.

His fingers trace slow circles against your back, absentminded and soothing. “Sleep well?”

You nod, but the words stay lodged in your throat. How are you supposed to respond when last night is still imprinted on your skin, when your body still remembers the way he held you, touched you, ruined you in ways you didn’t know you needed?

He watches you closely, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes before he shifts, rolling onto his side so you’re facing each other. A hand tucks beneath his head, the other still resting low on your back. The intimacy of it all is overwhelming, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

“What happens now?” you ask softly, barely brave enough to voice the thought.

His jaw tightens slightly, like he’s considering his words carefully. “We figure it out.”

It’s not a real answer, but it’s something.

The silence stretches, filled only by the rustling of sheets and the quiet rhythm of your breaths. Then, Harry exhales sharply, rolling onto his back and running a hand through his hair. “You hungry?”

The shift in conversation is abrupt, but not unwelcome. You nod, and that’s all it takes for him to slide out of bed, stretching his arms above his head before reaching for a pair of sweatpants. Your gaze flickers downward, betraying you, and he smirks when he catches you staring.

“Like what you see?”

You huff, throwing a pillow at him. He dodges it with ease, laughing as he pulls the sweats over his hips. “Come on, I make a mean omelet.”

You hesitate, suddenly aware of your lack of clothing. Before you can ask, he’s already tossing a hoodie your way—his hoodie, soft and oversized. The sight of you in it does something to him, you can tell by the way his throat bobs as he swallows, the way his fingers flex at his sides before he clenches them into fists.

“Looks better on you,” he mutters, almost to himself, before turning toward the kitchen.

Breakfast is… oddly normal. Domestic. The kind of thing couples do on lazy Sunday mornings. He stands at the stove, spatula in hand, while you sit on the counter, legs swinging idly. The scent of coffee fills the air, mingling with the warmth of the kitchen and the quiet hum of conversation. It’s easy, natural, like slipping into a life you shouldn’t be indulging in.

And yet, as he slides a plate in front of you, his fingers brushing yours, you can’t help but think—

Maybe this doesn’t have to end.

After breakfast, the sight of you in his hoodie is too much Harry pulls you onto his lap at the kitchen table. His hands settle on your thighs, fingers tracing slow, teasing circles against your bare skin beneath the fabric. The breath you take is sharp, shaky, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Do you know how fucking good you looked last night?” he murmurs, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

Your hands brace against his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as his grip tightens around your waist. Heat coils low in your stomach, spreading like wildfire when he tilts his head to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the column of your throat.

“Harry,” you whisper, a soft plea that only seems to spur him on.

He shifts, standing effortlessly with you wrapped around him, your legs locking around his waist. He walks you back until your spine meets the cool edge of the kitchen counter, his body pressing flush against yours. His mouth moves hungrily against your jaw, your pulse, your lips, until you’re gasping his name like a prayer.

His hands slide beneath the hem of his hoodie, pushing it up and over your head, baring you completely to him. His gaze darkens, eyes raking over you like you’re something to be worshipped. “So fucking perfect for me, love.”

There’s nothing slow about it—he tugs his sweats low enough to free himself, lifting you onto the counter in the same breath. He doesn’t waste time, sliding inside you in one slow, deep thrust that has you arching into him, your fingers clutching his biceps.

His pace is steady but firm, each thrust pulling a broken moan from your lips. His hands grip your waist, holding you in place as he fills you over and over, his breath hot against your ear.

“Mine,” he mutters, his fingers digging into your skin. “You’re fucking mine.”

You can’t do anything but nod, whimpering as his lips claim yours again, swallowing every sound you make. The tension builds too fast, too overwhelming, and when he presses his forehead to yours, whispering how good you feel, how perfect you are, you shatter around him.

He follows moments later, his release sending another wave of pleasure through you as he buries himself to the hilt, groaning into your mouth. He doesn’t pull out immediately, keeping you close, his arms caging you against him as you both come down from the high.

His lips ghost over your temple, his breathing still uneven. “Fuck, love…”

Reality crashes down like a cold wave. The warmth of the morning, the intimacy, the way his arms still cage you against him—it all feels like a fragile illusion as your eyes flicker to the clock on the wall.

“Shit,” you breathe, jolting upright. “I’m late.”

Harry barely has time to react before you’re scrambling off the counter, your legs still wobbly as you rush to find your clothes. He watches, half amused, half conflicted, leaning against the counter as you pull his hoodie back over your head, smoothing the fabric down over your thighs.

“You could just stay,” he offers, voice laced with something unreadable.

You shoot him a look. “And let everyone figure out exactly where I was all night? Not happening.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, but there’s something else in his expression, something quieter. As you move past him, he catches your wrist, thumb brushing over your pulse. The air shifts.

“Be careful,” he murmurs, his gaze searching yours.

Your breath catches, but you nod, squeezing his hand briefly before pulling away.

The ride to campus is filled with static energy, your nerves thrumming beneath your skin. Every shadow feels like a threat, every passing glance a question you don’t want to answer. Your mind replays the morning in his apartment, the heat of his body against yours, the way he called you his. The thought sends another rush of adrenaline through you, but not in the way it did before.

What if someone notices? What if they already know?

By the time you step into the lecture hall, your heart is pounding for all the wrong reasons. Olivia spots you immediately, her eyes narrowing as she leans in, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

“Well, well,” she teases, crossing her arms. “Someone had a busy night.”

You force a casual laugh, dropping into the seat beside her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She raises a brow. “Oh, please. You disappeared, didn’t answer my texts, and now you’re showing up late looking—” Her eyes flick over you, taking in the oversized hoodie, the flushed cheeks, the slight daze still lingering in your expression. “—thoroughly wrecked.”

Your stomach flips. You roll your eyes, nudging her with your elbow. “I was working on my essay. You know, the thing that’s actually due today?”

“Mhm,” she hums, unconvinced, but thankfully, she doesn’t push.

As class begins, you try to focus, but your mind keeps drifting—back to the morning, back to the way Harry looked at you when he told you to be careful.

Like he already knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

The rest of the day drags, every moment stretched thin with tension. Your last class is with Harry, and by the time you step into the lecture hall, exhaustion clings to you. He’s already there, sitting at his desk, composed and unreadable as ever. There’s no flicker of recognition, no lingering glance to betray what had happened that morning. Just Professor Styles, collected and indifferent.

You take your usual seat, trying not to let disappointment sink too deep.

The class passes in a blur. You take notes, nod at the appropriate moments, but your focus splinters under the weight of unspoken words. It isn’t until after class, when you linger to gather your things, that something shifts.

Another professor, someone you vaguely recognize from the faculty meetings you’ve overheard Harry mention, approaches. He’s older, charming in an effortless way, and the way he leans in slightly as he speaks sends a spark of unease through you.

“So,” he says, his voice warm, easy, “how’s the semester treating you?”

You offer a polite smile. “Busy, but good.”

“Styles keeping you on your toes?” he teases, chuckling. “He has a reputation for being… demanding.”

Your pulse jumps, but you force a laugh. “Something like that.”

The professor’s smile lingers, his gaze flicking over you in a way that feels a little too knowing. “Well, if you ever need a second opinion on anything—academic or otherwise—my office is always open.”

You don’t get the chance to respond.

From across the room, a sharp click echoes, Harry’s pen snapping between his fingers. Your breath catches as you glance toward his desk. His jaw is tight, his knuckles white where they grip the remnants of the pen. His expression is carefully blank, but you can see the storm brewing in his eyes.

The moment the other professor steps away, you grab your bag, prepared to make a quick exit, but Harry’s voice cuts through the air.

“A word, please.”

It’s not a request.

The classroom is nearly empty now, only a few stragglers lingering near the exit. You swallow hard, nodding once before trailing after him. His office door shuts with a firm click, the silence between you stretching thick and taut.

He leans against the desk, arms crossed, studying you with a gaze so intense it makes your skin prickle. “Didn’t realize you were so friendly with Dr. Calloway.”

Your brows furrow. “I wouldn’t call it friendly. He was just—”

“Flirting,” Harry interjects, his voice dangerously low.

You blink. “I…he was just being nice.”

Harry exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t know him like I do.”

Something in his tone makes you hesitate. “Harry, it was nothing.”

His jaw tenses. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Your heart pounds as he pushes off the desk, closing the space between you. His hands come to rest on your hips, fingers pressing in just enough to make you shiver.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice rough with possession. His hands slide down, gripping your waist as he presses you against the desk. “Don’t forget that.”

Your breath stutters as you place your hands on his chest. “I won’t. But you can’t—”

His lips crash against yours before you can finish, stealing whatever protest you were about to make. It’s all-consuming, the heat between you reigniting in an instant. He kisses you like he’s proving a point, like he’s branding the words onto your skin.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, breath ragged. “I don’t share.”

A slow smirk tugs at the corner of your lips. “Jealousy looks good on you.”

His fingers flex against your hips, and his next kiss is slower, more deliberate. “Careful, love. You might enjoy it too much.”

Something in the way he says it makes your stomach twist, heat pooling low as his lips move to your jaw, your throat. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

The tension is unbearable, the weight of unsaid words pressing down on both of you. He exhales sharply against your skin before stepping back, his gaze dark and heavy.

“Get on the desk.”

You don’t hesitate. Papers scatter as he lifts you onto the polished wood, stepping between your thighs, hands sliding beneath your skirt to grip your thighs. His kisses grow hungrier, teeth grazing your bottom lip, his control unraveling by the second.

“This is a bad idea,” you murmur, even as you tilt your head to give him better access.

“The worst,” he agrees, dragging his mouth down your throat. “But I don’t care.”

Neither do you.

His hands push your skirt higher, fingers sliding beneath the waistband of your underwear, yanking them down in one swift movement. Your breath catches as he spreads your thighs wider, his touch firm, possessive.

“You’re soaked,” he mutters, voice thick with desire. “Did that little conversation out there get you worked up?”

You don’t answer—can’t answer—because he’s already pushing inside you, stretching you open with a single, deliberate thrust that knocks the air from your lungs.

“Fuck, Harry—”

He grips your hips tighter, pulling you flush against him as he sets a punishing pace, the edge of the desk digging into your skin. The risk of getting caught only fuels the fire burning between you, the sharp slap of skin against skin filling the room.

His hand finds the back of your neck, pressing you down against the desk, his body crowding yours as he thrusts harder, deeper.

“So fucking reckless,” he growls, his voice strained with effort, with need. “Letting me have you here, like this.”

You whimper, nails clawing at the desk as pleasure coils tight in your stomach.

“Anyone could walk in,” he continues, his grip tightening. “They could hear you, see how fucking good you take me.”

The thought sends you spiraling, your release barreling toward you at a dizzying pace. Harry feels it, too, he reaches between you, his fingers finding your clit, circling in time with his thrusts.

“Come for me,” he demands, and it’s not a request.

You shatter around him, a strangled moan escaping your lips as pleasure crashes through you. He follows seconds later, burying himself deep with a guttural groan, his fingers digging into your hips as he spills inside you.

The only sound left in the room is your uneven breathing, the ticking of the clock on the wall reminding you both of the risk you just took.

Harry presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder before pulling back, his hands smoothing over your thighs, as if grounding himself.

“This,” you whisper, still breathless. “It’s dangerous.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze dark, unreadable. “I know.”

The risk is undeniable. But neither of you are willing to stop.

Just as you fix your clothes, smoothing down your skirt with shaky hands, a sharp knock at the door shatters the silence.

Your heart stops.

Harry’s head snaps up, his body instantly rigid, eyes flickering between you and the door. His jaw tightens, the afterglow of your moment already dissolving into something else entirely—urgency, fear, the sharp sting of reality crashing back in.

Another knock, firmer this time.

“Professor Styles?” A voice. Female. Familiar.

Harry doesn’t hesitate. He steps forward, grasping your wrist with a grip just shy of bruising, his voice low and urgent. “You need to go. Now.”

Your pulse spikes. “Who—”

He doesn’t let you finish. He moves swiftly, guiding you toward the side door that leads to the back hallway. His fingers press into your lower back as he all but pushes you through, barely giving you a moment to catch your breath.

“Don’t look back,” he murmurs, and then the door is closing behind you, sealing you off from him, from whatever is about to unfold on the other side.

You don’t wait around to see who’s waiting for him. You can’t. Your legs carry you forward on autopilot, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts as you weave through the empty corridor, toward the nearest exit.

Your skin is still burning from his touch.

The cold air outside does little to ground you. Your mind is racing, spiraling. The thrill of what just happened still lingers in your veins, but beneath it, something else begins to creep in.

Doubt.

Fear.

Paranoia.

Who was at that door? How much had they heard? How much did they know?

You shove the thoughts aside and keep walking, forcing your breathing to slow, forcing yourself to look normal, to act normal. But your fingers are trembling as you pull out your phone, as you glance at your reflection in the dark screen—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes that look far too wild.

You can still feel him.

By the time you make it back to your apartment, your stomach is in knots. Olivia is there, sprawled on the couch, but you barely register her presence as you drop your bag onto the floor and collapse onto your bed, your head spinning.

Your phone buzzes.

You jolt, heart hammering as you grab it.

A message.

From him.

Harry: We need to talk. This is getting dangerous.

You stare at the screen, a thousand thoughts colliding in your mind at once.

Dangerous.

Your stomach twists. He’s right. This was never going to be simple, never going to be easy. But now it feels like something else entirely.

Something you might not be able to control.

Something that might destroy you both.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

taglist: @oscahpastry @mema10 @angelbabyyy99 @iloveharrystyles04 @cinemharry @drwho06 @donutsandpalmtrees @panini @mads3502 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @one-sweet-gubler @rizosrizos26 @ciriceimpera @everyscarisahealingplace @hello-heyhi @sexymfharriet @lizsogolden @hannah9921 @chicabonitasblog @huhidontknowstuff @berrywoods1245 @jennovaaa

[cupidwritessillystories]

A headcanon with them meeting their child from the future with hsr men

Character: phainon, mydei, anaxa, dan heng, jing yuan, blade, sunday and caelus

Fem reader

Something like the hsr men meet their kid from the future and the kid say that they're his kid from the future. At first the hsr man don't believe that, but then the kid show the family album photo that make the hsr man believe the kid. The male hsr can already know reader or haven't know reader yet. Maybe after that they meet reader and try to court her 👀

Hi, thank you for the request so much! It was really fun to write (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

Just fluff, confused hsr men, time travel and kids that try to convince their dads that they really are their kids from the future!

Characters included: Phynon, Mydei, Anaxa, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Blade, Sunday and Caelus.

Anaxa may and probably will be ooc, since he's not even out yet and the content we currently have of him is mainly leaks. His part is also exceptionally short. Either way, I hope you guys like it!

Love always, Cupid♡

Phainon

He met your future child inside a prophecy, as weird as it sounds. Usually, it was just whispers of Titans, words of maidens, the prophecies rarely ever appeared in a form of hallucinations, but this one did.

He listened intently, trying to catch what the prophecy wanted him to know, but when he opened his eyes, there was no one around besides a small child tugging at his sleeve.

“Dad” he called him. Phainon was surprised, to say the least. From what he understood from the strange story he heard, he would later on get with you, and this little one was supposed to be his future kid.

“Is this even a prophecy, or am I just dreaming?” He asked himself. He would enjoy a future like that, a future with you, but you had already turned him down once. Was he just projecting his unfulfilled desires, had the said “prophecy” read his mind and just gave him the answer he most wanted to hear?

He didn't believe it, he wanted to, but he didn't. The child looked up at him, confused, and then gave him a photograph that looked just a tad bit too real. He jolted awake suddenly, thinking that it was just as he suspected, a dream. But when he looked at what he had in his hand, his whole perception of what just happened changed.

It was the same exact photo the little one gave him. There was no way it was a dream, then, for the things you see in dreams can't just materialize in the real world. He believed now.

It was probably naive to believe that ridiculous story, no one in their right mind would do so, but Phynon couldn't help himself. It felt real, and he hoped it was real.

Little did he know, you were trying to think of a way to apologize to him for turning him down before, because you did feel the same way he did. The time of his confession just happened to be unfortunate, which resulted in you loosing your cool and shutting him down immediately, which later on made you regret your choice of words.

Fate is such a curious thing, isn't it? when two people are destined to be together, they will. No matter what challenges they may face along the way. And so, the “prophecy” did end up being true.

Mydei

Mydei met your child from the future back when he was still a Crown Prince of Kastrum Kremnos. He was on his way to the training arena when he heard weird noises coming from the nearby corridor. There were a lot of stupid people trying to play smart thieves around here lately, so he went to check it out just in case.

To his surprise, the presumed “thief” turned out to be just a young boy, not above the age of 13. He was scavenging through a bunch of crap laying loosely on the floor, a worried look plastered on his face.

“What are you doing?” Mydei asked, still contemplating whether to help him or throw him out of the castle, for he was definitely not supposed to be there. Mydeis’ face when he heard the boy call him “dad” followed by an unbelievable story about time travel and his non-existing family was priceless. A mix of emotion washed over him, most of which were negative ones. Who in their right mind comes up with bullshit like that?

He ended up ordering the guards to escort the boy outside, he wouldn't be able to stand another word from him. Although the boy has been escorted already, a weird feeling that Mydei wasn't exactly able to explain lingered somewhere inside of him. He noticed an envelope on the floor right when he was about to head to the training ground and forget all about this insignificant event. This must've been what the boy was searching for. He picked it up and the first thing he noticed was that it was meant for him all along. Not thinking much, he opened it. Inside there was a photo that looked like it had been taken in Okhema, the Holy city.

What really threw him off was the fact that it was him in the frame together with two people whom he didn’t know. One, he recognised as the young boy that caused him unnecessary trouble earlier on, but the other one was a woman whom he had never met.

It's been years until he finally found you. What's ironic is that he wasn't even searching for you. When he saw the photo, he decided it'd be best to just throw it out, but in the end, he never did. He kept it close to him at all times. He wasn't sure why himself. As soon as he noticed you among the crowd, giving your supplies of medicine out to those who clearly needed it, it suddenly dawned on him.

You were the woman from the photograph. He stared, and stared, and kept staring, untill you finally noticed him. You smiled at him softly, the sun illuminating your hair in a way that made them seem to glow. A flower crown adorned your head, making you look akin to an angel. You walked over to him, waving your hand in a friendly manner. It never happened to him before. People in Okhema were hesitant to talk to him, they probably thought him scary. But not you. No, not you.

When you were in hand's reach away from him, you stopped. You picked a flower out of the many on your head and tangled it in his hair. It was a beautiful white camellia that matched him perfectly. “Thank you, hero.” You said, and then walked away. Later on, Mydei found himself seeking you out on various occasions, making up a multitude of excuses just to be able to spend time with you.

Anaxa

Well, what can I say? Anaxa is a certified non-beliver. If he defies even the gods, he has no problem telling a kid that his story is bullshit and that he probably should focus on helping his parents with whatever they do. No regards for the child's feelings.

He does so repeatedly, but the little boy doesn't seem to be giving up anytime soon. They both stand their ground, using solid arguments to try and convince the other one that they are right. Unsurprisingly, it leads to nowhere.

The kid decides to prove his point by sharing a family photo with Anaxa, who doesn't even want to look at it at first, but after some time he gets irritated by the child's persistence and says that he will take a look at it.

And so, he does. It feels weird, because after further examining the photo he came to the conclusion that it is, in fact, real. He won't ever admit it, but something inside him stirred, and he may have believed that absurd story presented to him. A little bit, at least.

You looked really happy on the photograph, and so did he. It would really be a pity if it all was just a lie, a joke made by a bored kid. Luckily, it wasn't.

Dan Heng

Dan Heng was never the one to believe in fairy tales. He based his opinion solely on facts, so when a random kid suddenly appeared in front of him, trying to convince him that she's his “future daughter”. He genuinely contemplated calling a psychiatrist for her. He'd even pay for the services if he had to. That being said, he doesn't know what compelled him to doing a throughout research on you.

You, who seemed eerily familiar when he saw you on a photograph he received from the child right before she ran off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he was sure he had seen you somewhere before.

He fell into a spiral. He spent almost every minute he could searching for you. For signs of you, however small, whether it be in his memory or on the internet, but nothing ever came up.

He was loosing his mind every time he looked at that photo. It was a picture of you, him, and the strange kid that gave it to him. You were holding the camera, he was standing behind you on a beach, his back turned to you. The girl from before was holding tightly onto his sleeve. She seemed younger than when she suddenly appeared in front of him that unusual day.

Just when he was about to give up, when he almost convinced himself that it was all just an unfunny joke played on him by a bored-to-death kid, he saw you.

He saw you when he was buying some snacks with March 7th and the trailblazer in Aurum Alley. The place was very crowded that day, he left his companions and ran after you before he could loose sight of you in the mass of people.

He grabbed your shoulder, you turned around, your eyes met, and suddenly, something clicked. He remembers now, and judging by the look on your face, you do, too.

Memories of his past incarnation cloud his mind. “Those are not my memories” he reminds himself. He let's go of your shoulder, he wants to leave, but before he can do so, you pull him close into a tight hug. He was hesitant at first, but when you rested your head on his shoulder, he reciprocated the embrace.

You knew he wasn't the same person now, what you knew is that if he would give you a chance, you'd fall in love with him all over again. More even than with his past self, and he seemed to be aware of that, too.

Jing Yuan

He was as calm as ever, even though for the past couple of minutes he was listening to a kid around the age of 10 excitedly explaining to him how he’s his future son. Truthfully, he didn't believe a single word that kid said, yet he still decided to entertain him. He was paying attention to every word the child said, asking different questions and letting out dramatic gasps from time to time.

It was until the kid mentioned your name. How was it that he knew you? Why did he suddenly bring you up, of all people? Jing Yuan didn't spare a second to ask the question he had on mind. “How do you know her?” The kid stopped his storytelling and looked at him, bewildered. “huh? Didn't I just tell you? Are you even listening to me?”

Jing Yuan's voice was still his usual, sleepy one, but underneath it, there was a hint of curiosity. “Sure i am. I'm just wondering, what does she look like?” The previous moment of hesitation that could be seen on his face for just a brief moment was now gone completly. He decides to play it cool, as he always did.

“Stop playing dumb!” The child retorted, a bit irritated by now. He managed to come to the conclusion that Jong Yuan doesn't believe him at all, and he wasn't wrong. “You don't believe me, do you?” The kid tilted his head to the side, waiting for a response even tho he knew the answer already.

Jing Yuan sighed in defeat. He got caught red-handed and lost a battle against that youngster. “I suppose I don't. Not entirely.” A second later, he already had a whole photo album laying in front of him. He raised a brow at the boy next to him. “Just look through it. Maybe it'll convince you.”

And so, he did. Not only did he look through it, no. He deeply analyzed every single photo that the album contained. He spent hours that he should be spending on work looking at the pictures. He was lucky enough that he convinced the kid to let him keep the album. None of the shots seemed fake, and some of them even had a signature. Your signature. He would be able to recognize your hand writing anywhere.

Later that day, he visited the alchemy commission where you were supposed to be resting after receiving a fatal injury. He was embarrassed, because the whole time you've been recovering he had never visited you once. He never missed a chance to ask people from the commission about the state of your well being, bit that was it. He wasn't sure himself why didn't he visit you, not even once. Maybe it was because he was scared, because he knew that everything that happened to you was entirely his fault.

His previous confidence faltered, but he wasn't about to back out now. He entered the room where you slept and placed a single peony on a nightstand besides your bed. He didn't wake you up, you will know he was there once you do, and that's enough.

Blade

Him being a stellaron hunter usually means that he has no contact with kids whatsoever, so when a sassy teen pops up randomly right before his mission, he doesn't know what to do. He tried to ignore her, but she's too stubborn to back down. After some persuasion, he finally gives in. He doesn't even say anything to her, just listens to her peculiar story. Besides the fact that the whole situation is rather unusual, everything seems normal, she goes on to explain time travel to him, but when your name slips off her tongue right next to the word “mom” he stops in his tracks.

He wasn't even paying attention to her meaningless monologue, but that didn't fail to reach his ears. His expression turns from an unpleasant one to something borderline threatening.

When she calls him “dad” he freezes once again. For a moment, he thought that she was your long lost daughter or something like that, deliberately ignoring the rest of the unbelievable story she bragged about just moments ago. He clenched the handle of his sword, but she just looked at him mockingly.

“I can prove it. I have a photo.” She said. “A photo… why would that convince me? Get lost.” He answered, but she handed him the photo anyway. She must've come to the conclusion that this is all pointless, because soon enough she disappeared from his sight. He didn't even notice it. He was too focused on the picture. It was real, he could tell, and that was what threw him off the most.

He quickly crumpled it in his palm to hide it when he felt your hands on both his shoulders. You were always unnecessarily clingy, even more with him than with other stellaron hunters. He thought you peculiar, your reason for joining was even weirder than your personality, because you literally didn't have a reason, or just didn't want to reveal it. When someone asked you why did you join the stellaron hunters, your answer was always short. “Fun.” He suspected your reason was entirely different in reality.

He never pried about it, though. He pretended it didn't interest him at all, even though deep down he was intrigued by your person. Maybe he did believe that kid, even if he didn't want to admit it.

Sunday

A little while before the Charmony Festival announcement something strange happened to him. He met someone, a child, that claimed to be his future future kid.

It was rather a peculiar encounter. Let's be fair - he doesn't know how to talk to kids. He's way too formal at all times, so the communication between the two went miserably.

Either way, he agreed to entertain the kid and listen to his made up story, or what he thought was a made up story. It had no logic to it, just a wild imagination of a young person, so there was no reason for him to think about it more than necessary, yet he found himself intrigued by it somewhat.

The conversation was cut short when the child looked at a clock and decided that it's time to go already. Before running off, he gave Sunday a single photo.

A weird feeling rose up in his chest once he looked at what it was. It was him in the frame. Him and a few other people, whom he recognised as the famous crew of the astral express. There was also the kid from before standing between him and a woman who he claimed was his mother.

Sunday didn't want to believe it. Why would he, of all people, ever join the Astral Express? He was content where he was, here on Penacony. It seemed ridiculous at the time.

Everything changed after the Charmony festival, when he got detained by the IPC and later on managed to strike a deal with Jade. Ironic as it is, he found himself asking the astral express crew whether he could board the express with them, at least for a little while.

At first, of course, they were skeptical towards that idea. He couldn't blame them, really. The one who seemed to have the biggest issue with him was you. He must admit, you've made some good points during the debate, if not for Welt advocating for him, you'd probably just kick him out the moment he first stepped foot on the express.

The conversation went on for a long time, with Sunday just standing to the side, waiting for the decision to be made. In the end you agreed, just like the rest of the crew, but the looked you gave him right after it was announced revealed that you weren't exactly happy about it.

He remembered his bizarre meeting with the kid, and the photo that he got, and the fact that supposedly, you and him were the parents. He still didn't believe in all of that, mostly because of your attitude towards him. The worst part was that the way you acted was justified. You seemed to hate him with a burning passion. But nothing lasts forever, and that, too, changed over time.

You started being more open to conversations with Sunday, you let yourself forget about all the unpleasant situations he managed to put the crew into back on Penacony. After some time, you got used to his presence. He would even argue that you kinda liked him, even though you wouldn't admit it.

As time passed, it only made you two closer, and he realised that the kid might’ve been right all along.

Caelus

at first, when the kid came up to him, claiming to be his child from the future, he burst out laughing. Like, really loud and hard, to the point his eyes started watering. It took him good fifteen minutes to calm down. He thought it hilarious.

After he finally cooled off, and your child kept explaining about them, you, and the future, Caelus stopped them way before they could finish. “okay that's not funny. It was only funny the first time around. Stop it.” man was creeped out.

His second instinct was to threaten your child with his baseball bat, and so, he did. It didn't quite work out the way he wanted to, because the kid laughed him off and threw a heavy book right at him, which he, caught off guard, didn't manage to catch in time, resulting in it hitting him in the face. Ouch.

Either way, he picked it up, asking what it is. Only thing he got as an answer was a quick “just open it.” And so he did. He turned it to a random page, and the expression of pure shock on his face said it all.

He expected everything, but not what he saw. There was only one photo on the page he happened to open the album on. In the frame, the first thing he noticed was you. You were cradling a little kid in your arms, and he was standing slightly behind you, his hands rested gently on your waist.

He was still skeptical about the truth, but the photo did look real. And you… You looked ethereal, he thought. Your eyes reflecting your love for the two, your hair slightly longer than it was now, and your smile seemed so sincere. He suddenly felt his heart skip a beat.

You were a passenger on the astral express currently, not yet a member, but you did travel quite a few worlds with the crew already. Caelus never seemed to notice the way you looked at him, although he looked at you exactly the same.

In that moment, he started to believe in the story presented by the kid just a little bit more. He hoped it was true, at least, and if it wasn't, he would make sure it'd come true. That's when he finally got the courage to ask you out, although when you asked what made him do it, he was too embarrassed to actually admit anything, so he quickly changed the topic by making some weird remarks about the lack of trashcan on Xianzhou Luofu.

[meidailies]

i love your older designs for hdl from dt17!!! they're so skrunkly and feel so in character but i have to ask , do you have any hcs for older webby? (　＾ω＾)

thank you, anon!! webby is kind of tough for me to design – partly because i'm tripletpilled at heart and focus mostly on them lol, but also because the finale gives us a LOT of new info about webby, which makes her post-canon development more murky to me. not sure what to make of her future...

still, here are some sketches ^__^ design thoughts under the cut (spoiler warning for finale)

the visual design reflects the character, and generally, i feel there are so many places you could take webby after the finale, which makes it very difficult to pin down a look! does she lean into the Wanting To Be Like Scrooge thing even harder for a while, or does knowing her relation to him complicate her feelings about that? now that questions about her past are answered, what is her next step/adventure, and what might she pursue as a teenager developing interests outside of the family/home? how does that affect her style or identity? how do her friendships with lena and violet or may and june help her evolve? this requires ironing out how i think lena, violet, may, and june would develop too, which is a lot of work...

i really like pre-finale webby so, self-indulgently (and somewhat lazily), my headcanon designs mostly stick with how she's been represented in the show, with some nods to her new knowledge about her parentage. for now, i am not touching the rest of the questions i asked above... i'm approaching it from as purely visual a perspective as possible......... o(—(

i really like canon webby's short hair... i'm a short hair truther!!

instead of giving her scrooge's "cheek fluff", i made her "hair" sort of imitate the cheek fluff. i don't think it's meant to be cheek fluff anyway... classically, it seems to be scrooge's hair? i gave her his little cowlick as well.

i gave her teen design two bows, but i don't know if that's overkill. would teens like bows that much?? i am no longer a teen, so.

subtle references to her parental figures: the gem on her bowtie is like beakley's, and the dark trim on her outerwear is like scrooge. the blue + reddish color scheme of the cardigan is also meant to resemble 87!scrooge's coat.

i forgot to add this in, but it would be cute if webby accessorized her cardigan with little pins or patches, since she's very creative and decorates her notebook cutely :)

the unasked-for 20s/30s webby... i actually drew this version before the teen one! she keeps the gem and the dark trim, but her hair is a little more stylishly messy (vs. messy because she is a teenager) and the accessories are a bit more mature.

finally, a non-design headcanon: i think webby would be a good rollerskater. if you read this far, thank you LOL

[ghostlyshellofapuppet]

Blowing Jason Todd in the Batmobile

It's been a while since I wrote. For @dollscircus , hope you have a better day and hope you like it. I'm not used to writing dominant anyone.

Contains praise, lots of praise for Jason and him coming down your throat.

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A mission gone wrong led to Jason currently clutching the steering wheel of the Batmobile after he stole it from Bruce from a petty feud. Irritable and prone to snapping he drives reckless through the backstreets of Gotham, just trying to blow off steam from an accident that wasn't his fault nor yours. Everything has been building up on his shoulders for a while now, so when he hisses a snarky reply back it's no surprise.

"pull over", you demand and the glare he shoots towards you shows it's been too long since he's been fucked because when he's your good boy he wouldn't look at you with such challenge in his eyes.

"come on baby boy, don't act up so bad now. I know you're moody tonight but that doesn't mean you can act so poorly towards me", spoken caring but firm and he hesitates before his eyes soften slightly and he pulls over. A "good boy" said with a hand cupping his cheek and eventually he climbs into the backseat at your request.

"can I remove these pants, pretty boy?", you ask as you kneel in front of him with a hand on his thigh rubbing softly and he nods with the slightest blush as he avoids eye contact, turned from mean dog to shy puppy too quick for his comfort.

"nuh uh, look at me and say it verbally. You know good boys answer out loud", you correct with a hand under his chin guiding his head back to your gaze to meet. "...yeah....please, take them off", Jason whispers as he meets your eyes with a vulnerable and slightly pleading look.

"there's my good boy, always doing so well", said with a smile and a kiss before unzipping and pulling down his pants just enough to take his cock out. "Can I please you, baby?" you ask and he replied with a yes almost instantly as his hand falls to your non-dominant hand to hold.

Pulling out his semi-hard cock to hold and lick to get wet as his head falls back with a breathy moan and twitch of his hand. Slowly pumping the base and sucking on his pretty tip just to rile him up just to see his head tilt to the side with his eyes closed, he can be shy tonight you decide, your poor good boy has had a hard time lately.

"how do you want this tonight?", you ask with a lick to the prominent vein, looking up at him to see Jason's blush. ".....slow...but squeeze me harder please", he answers as he does his best to make eye contact with those desperate eyes. "Good boy...my good boy, all for me. Knew you were still being so good, just needed a little reminder how to act"

As you work his hand finds your hair and he tries so hard not to pull but he needs to find something to ground himself on as his thighs tense and his breath hitches. Kissing down his dick to his balls to give a slow lick and suck just to get the prettiest whine out of him as he grips your shoulder.

"yeah, feel good?" you coo and he nods with a moan, as his head tips down to look at you. His eyes going a little hazy as he pants and a little bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. "Feels good", Jason confirms as his hands relaxing before tightens again. Moving his hand down to grip yours as he says, "thank you... thank you, I'm..I'm sorry for snapping.... snapping at you on the mission."

"Don't think about the mission, think about me. Doesn't it feel better to think about how good it feels when I suck your tip, I know how sensitive it is", you say and he nods. "Yeah, yeah.. I love it whe-... when you... fuck...", Jason sighs as his head falls back once again. The backseat not leaving much room for him and you both but he doesn't want you far away anyway.

"come on pretty boy, I know you're getting close. Cum when you need to, cum down my throat. I know you love to do it, I want you to", you encourage when you suck on his tip again and in no time he's arching his back and holding your hand as he whines and tenses up.

When he slumps back down and pants you take the opportunity to lean up and kiss his forehead as you rub your thumb over his cheek. "Good boy, I knew you'd be so good for me.....now, do you want me to drive you home or do you want something to eat first"

"...I want tacos...", he says catching his breath. With a smile and another kiss you agree and help him zip up his pants and climb into the driver's seat as you hand him a water bottle. "Taco's it is", is all that's said before a comfortable silence is felt as you drive to take care of the wants of your pretty boy.

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This is longer than i meant it to be but oh well, hope you enjoy.