#If no one else will make content for this game I will

[girl-lostconnection]

So..forgive me you're the first person I'm ever asking anything on Tumblr (Kinda new and I usually like to describe it like hiding in the corner and just watching everything quietly and leaving likes and I love your work) but I was thinking about your concept with 141 and reader dying and the notebook. Would there ever be a case where the others stumble upon it? Whether Price forgets (somehow) to put it away or someone's in the midst of searching for something and stumbles upon it?

Again, love your work, feel free to ignore this tho

Yeah, I think this type of readers people call “lurkers” which is cool🙂‍↕️you guys are usually the backbone of the audience, I enjoy you tremendously.

And that’s a really good question, anon!

You know what? Why not turn the heat up a little more for this pot with the frogs.

I can imagine Price not exactly forgetting it somewhere but harbouring it so close to himself that people start to notice. This specific notebook is always with him — under his armoured vest and in the front pocket of his shirts, on top of the stack of documents, edge of it peeking out of his pants pocket.

It’s always there when before he didn’t carry it with him. It’s small and simple, technically it shouldn’t rise any questions but Kyle is the first who notices it. Maybe because after your death he’s so sharply attuned to everyone else on the team, it’s practically unhealthy.

Kyle who watches John fumble with the leather bound corners of the little thing and wonders…what’s inside of it? They have been all grieving but your things have been taken by them all and shared fairly.

Simon doesn’t withhold your pictures or books with your annotations. Soap doesn’t say no when Gaz asks for one of the keychains. Kyle himself lets Simon and Johnny take one of your things each. Simon takes the big oversized T-shirt and Soap whisks away one of your hoodies, clutching it hard to himself, knuckles white with tension.

(Kyle will never admit but when he walked in on Johnny in hoodie with your name and rank on the back of it his knees buckled. For a moment a traitorous part of him thought you were there. For a moment he could breathe again)

So Price keeping something of you to himself almost felt unfair. It wasn’t, of course, no, Captain had every right to grieve and mourn in a way that made it easier for him.

But-

But Kyle missed you. Everyday and every morning he’d wake up, realisations hitting him again that you aren’t coming back. You are never coming back.

You disappeared so suddenly you were now everywhere.

The unwashed cup they couldn’t bring themselves to wash, the clothes and trinkets, the books and pictures. The notebooks.

Kyle remembers how you two played games in it, drawing X’s and O’s when debrief would get too long and your brains too sluggish to keep awake without external stimulation.

Kyle remembers you writing in them, so focused you oftentimes wouldn’t notice him getting closer until he’d plop himself down in front of you, pretending to pose. Your favourite model, wasn’t he?

Kyle remembers you smiling at him, eyes flickering to his face for a moment, your gaze so impossibly soft he feels like choking and burying himself next to you.

There is a whole life ahead. Kyle isn’t sure how to live it with a hole in this chest the size of your love.

It’s a selfish thought, maybe. Maybe he is selfish.

Maybe he should have been content with what he has been given. But he wasn’t.

So now he slips the notebook off Price’s desk when the man himself is so wrecked he can’t see straight. John’s drinking got worse after your death. Not yet enough to cause disciplinary action but enough to make them all worried.

Gaz has never seen him like that.

Why were they all lucky enough to meet you but not lucky enough to save you? Would the outcome be different if one of them went with you on that deployment? Could they save you if they knew how it ends?

Could they try?

Kyle’s fingers skim over the pages, your hoodie on him and if he pretends hard enough it almost feels like a hug. It almost feels like his body heat seeping through fabric is yours. Like you were just wearing it.

Like you didn’t leave at all.

Like you are coming back.

Kyle flips through the pages, gurgling wet laughter in his throat when he notices that you have been writing Simon’s jokes down and coming up with your own. (The “just got hospitalised due to peekaboo incident. They put me in ICU” joke almost makes Kyle choke).

Some part of him gets why Price has been guarding this specific journal so hard. Why he wasn’t letting anyone else close to it, because this right here is you.

Everything that’s left of your thoughts and feelings, of your humour and love, of your plans and scribbles.

It’s tangible proof that you were here. You lived, you loved, you thought. You were there and you were a person. Their favourite person. Their beloved one.

Maybe that’s why your small note hits him harder than he could have ever expected. A small resigned “I’m not sure I fit in. I’m not sure I’m not second…or fifth best in this case. Don’t even know if I wanna talk about it. Just plain stupid” splits Kyle’s scull open and leaves him bleeding and aching and shaking.

What…what did you mean “fifth best”? Why would you say that? What- no. Nonononono. No, it’s not fair. It’s not true, it has never been true.

Kyle feels like driving back to the cemetery and wrapping his car around the poll.

Kyle feels like clawing at the ground and sobbing-sobbing-sobbing.

Kyle feels like begging.

Please, no. Please, come back. Please, let him fix it, let him tell you the truth, let him tell you.

Kyle understands why Price was guarding the journal this fiercely. Kyle is so mad he feels like demolishing John’s office and yelling until his voice is raspy useless thing, vocal cords damaged, headache pounding inside his head and he’s burning from inside out.

Kyle looks at the page, his whole core so hollowed out you could feel an echo if you’d knocked.

Kyle doesn’t know what to do because you are gone.

Because he wants to say “I’m sorry, love, I’m so sorry, I’d be better if I knew”, he wants to say “come back and scream at me, come back demand attention, come back and hurt me in return just please please come back”.

He wants to say “I love you” in a hundred different ways, he wants to kiss it better, he wants to hold you again, he wants you back, why can’t you come back, why can’t he get you back? He will change, he will do better, he will pay attention, he’s sorry, love, he’s so sorry.

Soap finds him just blankly staring at the page and he doesn’t understand at first, concern sharpening his features like one of the razors he uses for his drawing pencils.

Johnny sinks down next to him, lips pressing to Kyle’s temple, breath panting when Gaz doesn’t respond because he can’t.

He doesn’t know what to say.

How do you live knowing you may never change what already happened? How do you keep going knowing your tenderness is decaying six feet underground, that your love is springing with flowers when they should have stayed above the ground and picked them? How do you get over it? How?

Johnny’s eyes skim over the page and Gaz can feel when the realisation sinks in, when the body next to him is getting poured full with raw ache and ice sharp panic.

Johnny asks “Gaz whose journal is that”, Johnny pleads “Mate, talk to me, where did you get it?”, Johnny whimpers “Kyle tell me it’s not theirs, Kyle please, Kyle say something”.

Kyle doesn’t know what to do other than wrap himself around Soap and hold him despite the thrashing, despite the disbelieving laughter that descends into gasping for air and clawing at his back and shoulders.

Kyle doesn’t let him get out and do something stupid, like drive to the cemetery and wrap a car around the poll and curl near your gravestone.

There is an awfully loud gulp and the journal is getting carefully taken off Kyle’s lap, Simon’s fingers long and scarred — things broken too many times to grown back straight and narrow, calloused pads of his fingers catching on the paper of the notebook.

Kyle has to drag him down to them, he has to practically kick the ground from under Ghost’s feet because the man looks like he will get the shovel and get you out of the coffin.

(Kyle doesn’t want to think how Simon refused to let them bury you, how he sat with you for days, until the decomposition became evident. Kyle doesn’t want to think how Simon placed a phone in your coffin despite knowing that you are not coming back. Kyle doesn’t want to think that Simon was terrified the 4 of them might bury you alive).

Ghost looks like the sky just fell on his head, crashing his spine and grinding down his nerves. Ghost looks like he wants to cry but doesn’t know how.

Ghost looks like how they all feel.

Kyle forces the man into their cuddle pile and forces his hand to wrap around Johnny, because Soap digs his fingers into them like he’s falling-falling-falling. System crashing, bomb ticking, Rome burning down.

Funny how Ghost never understood the phrase “going mad with grief”, always felt like it was a bit of dramatisation. People die every day after all, don’t they? It’s statistically impossible to never lose a single person.

Funny how Soap gets it now perfectly. The shift of tectonic plates in his brain, the rewiring of the whole system, pain so intense he might have ash for heart now.

Funny how it’s not funny at all but Gaz still laughs, face wet when Simon tightens his grip and pulls Kyle in, letting him hide his face.

Taglist: @synthe4u

[shyoko]

They are caught in an intimate moment. ☆

This writing is my own; no copies, adaptations, or translations are allowed. I hope you like it. (English is not my first language.) 

 Requests are: open

I want to thank you all for all the support you’re giving to the reactions ♡♡♡

☆Also, I wanted to let you know how I’ll be organizing the posts. I’ll be uploading a chapter every other day. Before each post, I’ll create a poll with four story options, and you’ll vote for the one you want me to upload. The next day, I’ll publish the winning story and repeat the process in the same way.☆

☆ Contains adult content. !!

Heeseung☆

You never imagined that baking cookies could turn into such a heated make-out session.

Maybe it was the long wait while the oven did its job, or perhaps it was Heeseung’s lingering touches on your skin—light, teasing, yet electrifying. Whatever the reason, the result was undeniable: you were trapped in his arms, your back pressed against the cool kitchen counter as his lips moved hungrily against yours.

Heeseung lifted you effortlessly, settling you onto the counter as his hands wandered freely over your body. A shaky breath escaped your lips when his fingers found the hem of your shirt, and in the blink of an eye, it was discarded onto the floor. His mouth trailed eagerly down your skin, leaving a burning path in its wake.

But the moment shattered in an instant.

—Oh, for God’s sake! Really? Is there nowhere else in this house?! —Jay’s exasperated voice cut through the air, freezing you in place.

Heeseung tensed immediately, his wide eyes locking onto yours in a mix of shock and panic. In a clumsy rush, he grabbed your shirt and helped you cover yourself, his voice caught between an apology and a weak defense.

—How was I supposed to know you were here?

Jay let out an exaggerated sigh, crossing his arms with pure frustration while you struggled to catch your breath and regain your composure.

Damn cookies.

Jay☆

You had decided to stop by the studio to visit the guys, and there you found Jay completely immersed in his guitar practice, rehearsing for his upcoming covers.

You knocked softly on the door, and after a few seconds, a visibly exhausted Jay opened it. His tired eyes and slightly tousled hair only made him look even more attractive.

—Did you not sleep well? —you asked with a hint of concern.

Jay gave you a small, lazy smile, his deep, husky voice filling the space between you.

—Not really… Think you could help wake me up a little? —his tone was sweet, but there was something undeniably mischievous in his gaze.

And just like that, within minutes, you were straddling his lap, feeling him buried deep inside you. According to him, this helped him relax and focus better—but the truth was, every time he shifted, whether to adjust his position or reach for something on the table, the friction sent waves of pleasure through your body, making it harder and harder to stay still.

The heat pooling inside you became unbearable, and after minutes of this slow, torturous game, you couldn’t take it anymore.

—Jay… stop moving, or I swear I’ll start bouncing on you —you warned, your voice shaky with frustration and desire.

He let out a low chuckle, his fingers tightening around your waist.

—Oh, sweetheart… don’t even try. I need to concentrate.

But if he wanted to play, so would you.

Without hesitation, you began moving against him, challenging him. His breathing turned ragged almost instantly, and though he tried to hold you still, the pleasure was too much—forcing small, breathy moans past his lips, mixing with your own.

Everything was going perfectly… until it all went to hell.

—Hey, Jay, could you help me wi—…?

Jungwon’s voice cut off abruptly. His eyes widened in shock, his entire body freezing at the sight in front of him.

You went completely still, your heart hammering in your chest as Jay tensed beneath you. The silence that followed was so thick it was suffocating.

Jay was the first to react, his voice coming out harsher than he intended.

—Jungwon… get out. Now.

The younger boy blinked rapidly, clearly in disbelief, before turning on his heel and stumbling out of the room as fast as he could.

Jay let out a long, frustrated sigh before lifting you off him effortlessly and settling you onto his chair. Leaning in close, his lips brushed against your ear, his voice dropping to a dangerously low whisper.

—I'll deal with you later… Don’t think for a second that I’ll forget how naughty you’ve been.

And with that, he walked out after Jungwon, as if nothing had happened.

But you both knew this wasn’t over.

Jake☆

What started as a quiet movie night ended with Jake pressing you down onto the mattress, his body hovering over yours as his hands slowly explored every curve of your back.

—Are you going to be good for me, baby? —he whispered against your ear, his deep voice vibrating through your skin—. Are you going to let me make you mine?

His lips trailed down your bare back, leaving warm, open-mouthed kisses as his hands settled firmly on your waist. His touch was slow but sure, and just as he finally filled you completely, the sudden sound of a phone ringing shattered the atmosphere.

Jake let his head fall against your shoulder, letting out a low groan of frustration before reaching for the device. Without pulling away from you, he quickly silenced the call and tossed the phone onto the mattress.

—They couldn’t have picked a worse time… —he muttered with a smirk before refocusing on you.

He pulled you closer, pressing your back against his chest as he resumed his movements. His lips found your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

But then the phone rang again.

Jake tensed for a moment before letting out an annoyed sigh.

—Give me a second… —he murmured irritably.

Still holding onto you, he grabbed the phone and accepted the call. Before speaking, he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered in a teasing tone:

—Be quiet for me, okay, pretty girl?

You nodded quickly, biting your lip to suppress any sound.

—Ni-ki? —he answered, his voice still rough.

He tried to focus on the conversation, but right then, his hips moved involuntarily, and the pleasure that coursed through your body was too much to suppress. A muffled moan escaped your lips before you could stop it, forcing you to slap a hand over your mouth.

Too late.

—What the fuck, Jake?! —Niki’s voice rang out, clearly horrified—. Don’t tell me you’re fucking your girlfriend while talking to me! That’s fucking disgusting, dude!

Jake let out a deep chuckle, still holding you firmly against him.

—I'll call you later —he said casually, hanging up without a second thought.

He tossed the phone aside, his hands immediately returning to you, roaming your body possessively before leaning down to kiss your neck again.

—Now… where were we?

The suggestive tone in his voice and the way his fingers tightened around you made it clear—he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

Sunghoon☆

You had made plans to have lunch with Sunghoon, Jake, and Jay at a restaurant near the company after they finished their rehearsal. Everything seemed normal as you walked to the place, joking and chatting about random things.

Once seated, each of you ordered your food, and the conversation flowed naturally while you waited. But then, out of nowhere, you felt a warm hand rest on your knee.

Your body tensed immediately. You turned your head toward Sunghoon, giving him a warning look, but he remained as nonchalant as ever, carrying on with the conversation as if nothing was happening. His fingers started moving slowly, tracing light circles on your skin.

You tried to ignore him, forcing yourself to focus on the conversation, but the heat from his palm was impossible to disregard. And just when you thought he might stop, his hand began creeping higher, sliding up your thigh at an agonizingly slow pace.

A shiver ran down your spine. Your breathing grew heavier as his fingers grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, so dangerously close to your underwear that every little touch made you hold your breath.

Discreetly, you caught his wrist in an attempt to stop him, but Sunghoon only pressed further, his fingers slipping between your legs with excruciating slowness.

The first direct touch had you biting your lips to keep quiet.

His caresses were soft but torturous, teasing you mercilessly as you struggled to keep a straight face in front of the others.

Just then, the food arrived. You sighed in relief, thinking that he would finally stop, but you were wrong. His hand didn’t move away—if anything, his touch became even more persistent.

You felt his fingers toying with the thin fabric of your underwear before effortlessly slipping beneath it.

Your back arched slightly, and on instinct, you gripped his wrist more firmly, silently begging him to stop. But Sunghoon only smirked in satisfaction, clearly enjoying the way your body reacted to him without anyone noticing.

Small, restrained gasps caught in your throat, and when your thighs tried to clamp shut, he simply nudged them apart again, his fingers growing bolder in their exploration.

And then, out of nowhere, a sudden jolt brought everything to a halt.

Sunghoon stiffened instantly, pulling his hand away in an instant. He frowned and looked up to see who had interrupted him.

Jake.

The blond was staring at him, his expression neutral, but his slightly furrowed brows made his disapproval clear. Sunghoon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, cleared his throat, and without saying a word, picked up his chopsticks and started eating as if nothing had happened.

You did the same, though your heart was still pounding, and the heat in your cheeks was impossible to hide.

Jay, completely oblivious to the situation, narrowed his eyes at the two of you.

—What the hell is up with you two? —he asked suspiciously.

No one answered. Sunghoon focused on his food, you avoided eye contact, and Jake smirked slightly, clearly satisfied with his intervention.

Jay let out a sigh, still confused.

Sunoo☆

For Sunoo, getting caught in the act was all part of the plan.

He had spent weeks listening to the guys tease him about how sweet and innocent he was, how unlikely it was for him to be with a girl. At first, he laughed it off, but over time, it started to wear on him. Did they really think he wasn’t capable of making someone feel good?

It was time to prove them wrong. And who better to help him do that than you—his best friend?

No words were needed. Just a single moment of tension, a look filled with intent, and the briefest touch before his lips crashed onto yours in a hungry, heated kiss—like you had both been waiting for this moment all along.

Before you could even process it, you were lying on the couch in the living room, Sunoo hovering over you, his body pressing against yours with the perfect mix of softness and urgency. He knew the guys would be back any minute, but rather than worry, the thought only seemed to excite him more.

His lips trailed down to your neck, leaving warm, open-mouthed kisses as his hands roamed freely.

—God… you’re so perfect —he murmured against your lips, his voice husky with desire.

One of his hands slid up to cup your breast gently, while the other trailed lower, fingertips tracing along your stomach before slipping between your thighs. With practiced ease, he found the hem of your underwear and, without breaking his rhythm, slid it down your legs before stuffing it into the pocket of his pants with a smug smile.

The first touch of his fingers against your bare skin made you arch your back. He moved with such confidence, such precision, that you couldn’t hold back a breathy sigh. Sunoo seemed to revel in your every reaction, his lips grazing your skin, leaving faint marks as he went.

And just as the tension reached its peak…

The door swung open.

The sudden sound snapped both of you out of the moment. Your heads turned simultaneously toward the entrance, where the guys stood frozen in place, eyes wide with shock, their faces a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

The room fell into complete silence.

But Sunoo didn’t even flinch.

With the utmost composure, he stood up without letting go of you and effortlessly scooped you into his arms. Turning to the stunned group, he flashed a radiant smile, clearly enjoying the effect his little stunt had caused.

—Oh wow, guys… didn’t expect you back so soon —he said, his tone laced with amusement—. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure to lock the door this time.

He shot them a playful wink before chuckling softly and carrying you off to his room, leaving them standing in stunned silence in the middle of the living room.

Mission accomplished.

Jungwon☆

The boys were just about to go on stage, each of them finishing up their preparations before the big moment. The backstage was pure chaos—stylists rushing back and forth, crew members making last-minute adjustments, and the deafening sound of the audience filling the air.

Amidst all the commotion, Jungwon suddenly appeared out of nowhere, grabbing your wrist and quickly pulling you into the dressing room. The door clicked shut behind him, and before you could even ask what was going on, his body was already pressing yours against the wall.

—Baby, I need you… —his voice was low and breathless, his eyes burning with desire.

You looked at him in confusion until your gaze dropped down—and suddenly, you understood.

—Wonnie… you have to be on stage in seven minutes —you whispered, trying to ignore the sudden heat pooling in your stomach.

He gave you a half-smirk, his fingers trailing softly down your waist.

—That’s exactly how long I need for you to help me with this —he murmured, leaning in just enough for his lips to brush against yours.

A shiver ran down your spine. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this here—not with so many people outside, not with so little time—but the way his body reacted to yours, the desperation in his eyes, the slight tremble in his breath… you couldn’t resist.

You dropped to your knees, your pulse pounding in your ears as your fingers worked quickly to undo his belt. Jungwon let out a shaky sigh as your hands wrapped around him, his body tensing at the first touch.

His fingers tangled in your hair, guiding your movements with barely restrained need.

—God… just like that… —he groaned softly, biting his lip to keep quiet.

His grip tightened slightly, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Every sound that slipped past his lips sent waves of heat through your body, making you revel in the way he melted under your touch.

But then, the door suddenly swung open, shattering the moment.

—What the hell is going on here?!

Sunghoon’s firm, exasperated voice made you freeze instantly. Jungwon let out a frustrated grunt and quickly pulled away, fumbling to fix his clothes.

Sunghoon stared at the two of you, a mix of disbelief and irritation on his face.

—We’re about to go on stage, get dressed already, idiot —he huffed, crossing his arms.

Jungwon let out a heavy sigh, still trying to steady his breathing. Before leaving, he leaned in close to you, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured with a playful pout:

—Promise me you’ll take care of me later… I want more.

And with one last look filled with silent promises, he followed Sunghoon out, leaving you standing there, heart racing and body still burning, knowing this wasn’t over.

Ni-ki☆

It seemed like Jake had only one mission: to make Niki jealous by shamelessly flirting with you.

He spent the entire afternoon showering you with sweet compliments, winking at you, and cracking jokes that made you laugh—all while Niki watched from a distance, his frown deepening and his jaw tightening more and more.

At first, he tried to ignore it. But when he saw Jake leaning in too close, his arm brushing against yours with far too much confidence, his patience finally snapped.

Without a word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

—Why the hell are you letting Jake flirt with you like that?! —he blurted out, his voice filled with frustration.

—Niki, oh my God, it’s not even tha—

Your words never made it out. Before you could finish, his lips crashed onto yours with overwhelming urgency.

This wasn’t a soft, playful kiss like usual. It was hungry, possessive, as if he needed to make it clear once and for all that you were his.

His hands roamed your body with desperation, gripping your waist before sliding down to squeeze your hips, pulling you even closer against him. You let out a quiet gasp against his lips, which only seemed to ignite him further.

—Tell me I’m the only one for you —he murmured breathlessly, his warm breath fanning against your lips.

His hand slipped under your shirt, trailing up your skin until it reached your chest, his grip firm yet teasing.

—Of course, you’re the only one for me, Niki —you whispered without hesitation.

The kiss deepened instantly, growing more desperate, more consuming… until the door swung open.

—Oh, for God’s sake —Sunoo’s voice broke the moment—. I came to check if you were okay after Jake’s little joke, but I see you’re being very well taken care of… so I’ll just leave.

He rolled his eyes with an amused chuckle before shutting the door behind him, leaving both of you breathless and flushed.

Niki let out a frustrated sigh, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

—Great… exactly what I needed.

But when he looked back at you, his eyes told a different story.

This wasn’t over.

[burrowdarling]

The Offline Series 001

Summary: The introduction to The Offline Series, covering the last day of the regular season and the beginning of the postseason.

Pairings: boyfriend!Joe Burrow x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: This series will have mentions of adult content throughout so MDNI

Note: Hi everyone and welcome to The Offline Series! It's taken some time and rewriting, but the first part is finally here. I have plans to do specific events like the Pro Bowl Games as well as other ideas as connected standalones. I'm excited to create this small for these two and I hope you'll come along for the ride! Asks about these two are always welcome, I'd love to develop a world for them.

Word Count: 5.6k (my longest fic yet!)

Check out my Masterlist here!

Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 @hellsingalucard18 @hotburreaux @lilfreakjez @jburrgf Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

The past few days have felt a bit tense in the house with the season ending the way it had. Of course, you had wished things had gone differently, but it only made you more hopeful for the next season to come. Things were very touch and go when it came to Joe’s mood. Which was to be expected. You were so proud of him and the way he was able to lead the team to a winning record by the end of the season. You knew Joe was beating himself up about it despite the records he was breaking and the path he was paving in the NFL as a whole. You knew he was MVP material and it gutted you that he wasn’t in the conversation with the numbers he was putting up despite the final scores of each game.

He was processing the way he always would, by himself in his own way. He was going to the gym, meeting with who he needed to, throwing himself into everything else but rest. Arguably that also meant it was most things except time with you. You hadn’t seen too much of him recently, but you could feel his lower energy in the house even when he wasn’t around. Things felt colder and you had to admit you were starting to get a bit lonely. You thought back to that Sunday when the big shift in him happened while you went around the house and tidied, not like there was much when one of your stress relievers was cleaning.

**Flashback to Sunday**

You had the 4:25 games all on at once, each game taking up their respective corners of the screen. You were hopeful that having more than the two games would provide some kind of distraction, but you knew his mind was elsewhere when he kept his vision darting between the two opposing corners of the screen. You wished you could read his mind, making sure to remain close enough if he needed you, but far enough that he was able to be with his own thoughts.

You knew that the other guys were glued in the same positions after talking with the other girls. There was a constant stream of messages in your group chat talking about how the guys were doing and sharing the experience with one another through the phone. By some miracle, you hoped the Jets and Broncos would pull this off. You had a deep gut feeling based on the Chiefs lineup that things weren’t going to go the way you needed them to. The most you could do was hold out hope and watch with cautious optimism. You found yourself copying Joe’s movements, unable to look away from the two most important games. The Jets were starting off strong and that lifted some weight, but the Broncos came out swinging so fast against the second stringers for the Chiefs. 

You couldn’t blame them, really. It was no other team's job to win or lose for someone else, but that didn’t make the game on the screen any less frustrating to witness. The amount of time the Chiefs quarterback was taking in the pocket from having no open players to pass to, it was no wonder he was getting sacked left and right. The score just kept getting higher and higher, the Bengals chances slipping away the more the Broncos scored. The Jets win wasn’t even necessary at this point, feeling worse knowing everything had gone to plan except this once game.

You kept glancing over at Joe, watching the light in his eyes fade with the passing time. You knew he was worried about the outcome as much as he tried to hide it. He wanted a chance in the playoffs, working his ass off to finish with the win streak they had, not to mention the records he was breaking for himself and on the team. If anything he turned colder, feeling the shift in him from where you were sitting on the couch. You made no move to touch him let alone speak to him when he got like this. You didn’t know which version of Joe you would get and you weren’t in the best mindset to find out.

By halftime, Joe had retreated to his office without a word and you let him. You couldn’t get yourself to turn the screen off, watching the abysmal scene in front of you at the Chiefs vs Broncos game. The amount of things that had to go the Bengals way, it felt like it was so far fetched. It really did come down to this one game. The score was so far gone, it was purely to see how far the Broncos would push it. 

Towards the end of the fourth quarter, you turned the game off and made your way to the kitchen to make something for dinner. You didn’t know if Joe would eat, but you had to at least try. You cooked his favorite, plating some for yourself and making him a plate. You walked cautiously up to his office, a warry feeling sitting in your chest as you got closer to the closed door. It was silent on the other side, able to hear a pin drop. You took in a deep breath in an attempt to calm your nerves before you faced what could be on the other side of the door.

You knocked gently on the door, hearing some grumbling on the other side before the door was pulled open. You were met with a blank faced Joe, his hair roughed up from his fingers tangling in it. You knew better than to mention a word about the game. Joe was beating himself up more than you could even imagine. You held his gaze, trying your best to keep things direct as you moved the plate in your hands towards him.

“I made you some dinner in case you were hungry. I’m gonna take a shower and get in bed to read for a bit. In case I fall asleep before you, I love you and I’m here if you need me,” you said and weren’t expecting any type of verbal response back.

He looked down at the meal you made him, watching as the slightly bit of tension dropped from his shoulders. His eyes moved back up to yours and the smallest ‘thank you’ slipped past his lips. You arched up on your tiptoes to reach his cheek, his frame always towering over you. He took the plate from your hands and gave you a nod before turning to close the door. You let him shut himself inside, knowing that all you could do at this point was wait for him to come around. You wouldn’t stop showing him small acts of kindness and support, knowing he was still appreciative even if he didn’t show it. You would always be there to take care of him and you weren’t stopping now.

**End of flashback**

You had your current read perched in your lap, trying your best to keep your mind occupied on something that wasn’t the thick feeling in the air. You were doing anything you could to keep yourself busy-reading, cooking, cleaning, even leaving earlier for work, and getting yourself a coffee in the morning rather than making it at home. You knew Joe would open up when he was ready, but the meantime wasn't always the easiest to manage. You felt your phone buzz on the couch next to you, lifting it to see what the notification was. You saw that it was an Instagram post notification from Joe because of course, you have his notifications on. It was a rare occurrence when he would post anything so you had to be in the know. You clicked on the notification, having an inkling of what it could be, but the wind was still knocked out of your chest as you read his caption.

"Season to remember, sorry you won’t get to watch anymore. Year 5 in the books." 

You stared at your phone for a moment, processing the post he made. You felt your heart break for him, unsure of what could be going through his mind while he was upstairs. Swiping through the few photos he posted along with it. The first photo being of “the big three” as everyone has been calling them. The next two being of himself on the field and the last of him and Ted. You felt like you could sense the emotion through the phone screen.

He came down from his office a little while later, his hair ruffled from constantly running his fingers through it. You could imagine him sitting at his desk, looking for the right thing to say to his fans. The movement of gripping his locks through his fingers was a way of grounding himself when he felt overwhelmed. You noticed it as the season had gone on, tending to do it more often in press conferences when all he wanted was to be at home either alone in his office or with you. He went over to the fridge to grab something to drink, spinning off the cap and taking a huge swig as he walked over to where you were in the living room. You had on some mindless TV show in the background for noise, not paying it much attention.

He came to sit down next to you on the couch, slouching into the cushions with a deep sigh escaping past his lips that he must've been holding in. You shifted to sit up criss-crossed with a blanket draped over your lap. You patted the spot on your lap gently, signaling Joe to rest his head in your lap. He moved to you without a word, positioning his long limbs on the couch to settle his head in your lap with his legs draping over the edge of the armrest.

“Take this as a chance to just be offline for a while. You spent months holding so much of other people’s bullshit all season. You deserve to take the offseason as time for you,” you spoke softly as you started to gently touch his head and felt him lean into your hand. 

Joe let out a sigh of contentment as he settled into your touch. You knew it was something that made him feel safe and grounded. You ran your hands through his hair, giving him time to process your words and respond. A break was something Joe wasn’t the most familiar with, always needing to be on and moving all of the time.

“I know you’re right. It’s just hard to shut my mind off sometimes. It’s hard to feel like I could’ve done more, still can do more to prepare for next season. I don’t want to have the same rhetoric from everyone next season like I did this year.”

You felt your heart break for him. There was an ache in your chest at his admission, feeling a small tear drop against your exposed skin. You leaned over him and pressed a kiss to his temple, letting your lips linger there. 

“I know you worked your ass off Joey, you always do. You also earned yourself some time to unwind for a while, let your body rest. I’m excited to finally get to spend some uninterrupted quality time with you. Your mind and your body deserve to heal J, I’ll be here with you while you do. I already know you’re gonna come back stronger than ever.”

You tilted his chin up, turning his head towards you. You looked down and the gentle giant with glossy eyes in your lap. The thought brought a smile to your lips and a small laugh. You leaned over once more, placing a kiss to his pouting lips this time. You were about to sit back up, but Joe kept you in place. The kiss began to get more intense, feeling a small fire igniting within you at his tongue grazing across your lower lip. 

You were putty in his hands, body willing to do whatever it was that he wanted. Joe loved how reactive you were to his touch, no matter how small or innocent it was. 

A small moan escaped your lips, unsure of how you guys ended up in a full makeout after having such a deep moment. You finally pulled away, the angle becoming too much for you as you started to get a bit light headed. You weren’t sure if it was from having your head turned or the intoxicating pull that was Joe, figuring it had to be some kind of combination of the two. 

“Sorry hun, I couldn’t keep my head like that for much longer. I was only trying to make you feel better, not —” you were cut off from your apology with a much gentler kiss placed on your lips.

“I know that, this was one of those times I was at a loss for words to tell you how much I love you so I figured I would show you instead. I know I can get in my head a lot, I really do appreciate that you give me the space to think.”

“Of course, Joey. You know I’ll always be here whenever you need to talk. Me forcing you isn’t going to do either of us any good in the long run. You also know I’ll happily be a willing participant to your throes of affection. In that case you’re more than welcome to show me properly.”

Joe sat up and took your hand in his to guide you off the couch, moving so quickly towards the stairs.

“Don’t mind if I do, all you had to do was say the word.”

Joe was always amazing in bed, but there was something even deeper about the way he would make love to you. Everything felt ten times more intense than usual, his passion unmatched. You were left lying there breathless, the sheets haphazard over the bed with your body tucked snuggle into Joe's side. His hand gently grazes your side, slowly lulling you to sleep. Exhaustion almost overtook you before his voice broke through the silence that enveloped you.

“Thank you for everything that you do for me. I know I’m not the easiest to love, but I’m grateful for you everyday,” his words waking you from your sleepy state.

You turned around to face him, his arm falling between you as you did. You moved your hands up to cup his cheek, feeling him lean into your soft touch as you stroked the stubbled skin. You felt Joe release a breath he must’ve been holding in and let his eyes fall closed. It was the most relaxed you had seen him in days.

“Joey loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done, doing this with you makes the highs and lows worth it all.”

You saw a quick tear slip past his defenses, quick to wipe it away hoping you didn’t see. It was too late for him though, you were too busy doting on him. His eyes looked up to meet yours and it was over for him. Joey tucked himself into your body as if you would make the pain he was feeling go away just from your touch. The more tears streamed down his cheeks onto your exposed skin, silent sobs racked his body and all you could do was hold him. Whispering sweet nothing in his ear while stroking his back with light scratches of your nails. Your heart split in two at the pain he must’ve been feeling, it being so hard for him to let you in.

You have no idea how long you two laid there, your gentle giant finding his solace in your smaller embrace. As his tears seemed to settle and his body relaxed, the tension finally dissipated his body for good from the emotional release. Joe sniffled as he pulled back from your neck. His baby blue eyes were red, his face flushed pink. You brought your hands up to wipe any stray tears from his face. Joe seemed to be closer to his normal self, something still holding him back.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, able to tell that there was something he wanted to bring up.

“I got an offer to attend the Australian Open and I’ve been thinking about it, it could be a different experience for me. I wasn’t necessarily gonna go, but after we talked I think I’m gonna tell them yes. I was hesitant because I was honestly still feeling so down on myself, but you’re right that I deserve to go out and enjoy the fun things like everyone else has been doing. People are gonna talk regardless so I might as well be happy while they do,” Joe said with a finality to his words and a returning sense of confidence you hadn’t seen for a bit.

“That’s awesome sweetheart, I totally think you should go. Get out of the cold in the land down under,” you joked back with him wishing you could escape the throes of the Cincinnati winter.

By the look on his face, you could tell he wanted to make some kind of oral joke but was holding himself back to preserve the moment the two of you were sharing. You felt him pull you in closer to his chest, his arms securing you in like a fortress from the outside world. You rested your head on his solid chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat bring you a feeling of comfort.

“They offered for you to join me of course, but I know you can't just take off of work that easily. I wish I could have you there with me, I really am sorry for being such a dick and icing you out,” Joe spoke as he peppered the top of your head with kisses 

“I would love to go with you, but I already finessed time to go to Orlando for the Pro Bowl Games with you, unfortunately. I’m excited for you to get that experience and can’t wait to hear all about it. I’ll be here when you get back, don’t worry,” you assured him.

“I’d hope so, don’t be surprised if I don’t let you out of my sight when I get home,” Joe warned in a teasing tone you knew all too well meant only one thing.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way lover boy,” you pushed back, giving him a kiss to his nose. “I’m starting to think I’ll have to make you a self-care plan to ensure you actually take a break for once.”

“Does this plan involve you in all sorts of positions for me,” Joe teased as he brought his hand to cup your bare breast, swiping his thumb over your peaked nipple.

You gasped at his touch, still feeling sensitive. You lightly smacked his hand away as you feigned offense. Your body’s reaction betrays you in that moment, feeling the heat begin to form in your center. You had to be the voice of reason for once, both of you needing some kind of sleep more than anything.

“Get your mind out of the gutter for once, I actually meant it seriously. If I need to take the time to make one for you I will,” you said and you meant it, “just because I work with kids doesn’t mean it can’t apply to you too.”

You worked in mental health, mainly with kids and adolescents. You were able to be a safe space for them to learn how to share, develop healthy coping skills, and work through anything that was going on with them. There were times that you could see where Joe would benefit from taking a different approach. He was such a big advocate for mental health, but he didn’t always give himself the same grace when he needed it.

“Yes ma’am, I’ll behave and take my time. I was honestly thinking of getting a massage tomorrow if you’d like to come with me. It could be a great way for us both to destress,” Joe suggested.

The idea did sound incredibly tempting, knowing you had your own knots and pent up tension stored in your body. You hadn’t gone for a massage in ages and Joe always got them as a form of restoring his body during the season. 

You rolled over, feeling Joe sniggle up behind you as he draped an arm over your waist, “you let me know when and where, you bet I’ll be there.”

Joe’s trip to Australia came and went in a flash, sticking true to his word and making sure he showed you just how much he missed you. Claiming he needed some way to ‘exhaust himself’ and get him to sleep from the massive time change he was combatting. He told you all of the stories from his time there that you hadn’t already heard over the phone while you two lay in bed. You weren’t exactly sure when you fell asleep, being lulled into slumber from the warmth and presence of your boyfriend.

That next morning, you woke up to Joe splayed out next to you. He looked so peaceful; with the thin white sheet draped across his lower half, chiseled chest on full display for you to admire. Both of you had forgotten to pull the shades over after yesterday’s activities, the morning sun casting a warm glow across his sun kissed skin. It felt like a crime to wake him, but you had massage therapists coming to the house. Joe wanted to keep things private and got a few people to come here that he’s worked with through the team during the season. You were grateful considering how tender each of your muscles felt from last night, skin heating at the thought.

The least you could do was wake him gently, shifting on the mattress so you were level with his stomach. You always admired Joe’s body and he damn well knew that. You never got the chance to do so this close and unrushed though. You took your time absentmindedly tracing patterns across his skin, lightly dragging your fingertips through the dips and curves of his muscles and hips. You dropped your lips to his warm skin, making a path of kisses up to his neck. You felt him stir about halfway through, glancing up to see a barely there smile on his lips.

You could tell he was trying to remain “asleep” to not interrupt your pursuit. You decided to have a little fun knowing he was awake. You dragged your lips up his chest, lightly sucking at the skin on the base of his neck. You felt his breath hitch underneath your lips feeling satisfied. You nipped at his ear causing a groan to come from Joe, unable to hold back his facade any longer.

You could tell he was trying to remain “asleep” so as to not interrupt your pursuit. You decided to have a little fun knowing he was awake. You dragged your lips up his chest, lightly sucking at the skin on the base of his neck. You felt his breath hitch underneath your lips feeling satisfied. You nipped at his ear causing a groan to come from Joe, unable to hold back his facade any longer.

He shifted quickly, tucking you under his body as his strong arms caged you into him. You giggled as he ducked his head and nipped at your neck, knowing it was where you were super ticklish. His attacks against you were ruthless, leaving you begging him through sputters of air and laughs to get him to cease fire.

“Good morning to you too,” you said, trying to regain control of your breathing. 

“I could say the same thing to you too, I’m not complaining if I get to wake up to your touch every morning,” Joe said as he ducked back down in an attempt to move things further.

You stuck your hand out as a barrier to stop him. You wouldn’t have nearly enough time with your massage appointments happening soon. You wanted to freshen up quickly to be ready for them when they got there. 

“We’re not gonna have any time right now, J. They’re gonna be here in,” you looked down at your bare wrist, a small laugh rumbling in Joe’s chest at your humor, “like 10 minutes.”

“I’ll bet you I only need three of those ten if you let me,” Joe tried to press, hoping to win you over with a morning orgasm to start your day.

You had to admit, it was definitely a tempting offer. Joe loved lazy morning sex with you, feeling the lack of time constraints and pressure. It was his favorite way to start his day when he could. There were also mornings where quickies would wake either of you up before you had places to be, connecting before your busy days. You contemplated the idea, Joe wiggling his eyebrows suggestively above you trying to entice you. You also would have the rest of the day with this being the only thing you had planned. You worked to flip yourselves to get you on top, Joe grinning thinking that he would be getting his way. You slipped off of him, throwing on some semblance of clothing and ran your fingers through your hair to tame it. 

Joe groaned feeling like you pulled a trick on him. Before he could protest you, the sound of the doorbell ringing sounded through the stillness of the house. A smile crossed your lips as you started to make your way out of the room, turning back once you reached the frame of the door. You left him alone in bed, sat up against the headboard frustrated from your absence. He looked lost, a pout formed on his lips and a prominent bulge obvious underneath the thin fabric of the sheet.

“You should probably take care of that before you come down, I don’t think your massage would appreciate it,” you said with a smirk as you disappeared down the hallway

“Oh you’re gonna get it later sweetheart,” Joe called after you, making you laugh at the promise.

You composed yourself before pulling the door open. You greeted them kindly, letting them in to get everything setup in the living room. The pair seemed lovely, telling you a bit about themselves while getting their things ready. They handed you a robe and requested you change into whatever made you feel the most comfortable. You left to change, tying the robe overtop of the bralette and sleep shorts you put on. You were exiting the bathroom when Joe made his way down the stairs in a pair of tight alo shorts. They were sitting high up on his thighs as if he had them pulled up, the glimpse at the skin making your mouth water. 

It was like he could read your mind, choosing those on purpose as a form of payback for leaving him alone to take care of himself. He dropped you a wink before passing you to say hello, taking the second to shake those thoughts from your mind for the time being. This was technically your fault, but you knew it would also make him more worked up later.

You both laid on your respective tables and let the two ladies get to work. You had never gotten a massage before, not thinking it was a necessity, but having a change of heart after the first few minutes. The lotion felt and smelled absolutely amazing, giving reprieve to your aching and neglected muscles. Your shoulders felt the tightest from how much sitting you had to do at work, constantly seated in different positions at your desk or on the floor if that’s what your clients preferred during their sessions. Sighs of content and groans of pain as she worked tumbled from your lips without a second thought. Joe was mostly silent, making you realize how often he did this and was used to it by now.

Knots you didn’t even know you had were being pressed and worked. You couldn't help the groans of relief that left your mouth, trying your best to taper the sounds. Turning to look over at Joe whose pupils were blown wide as his back was being worked on as well. You let your eyes trail down his frame, knowing exactly what was under the sheet covering his lower half. Your body was heating, feeling conflicting feelings of tension and relaxation as your masseau’s hands worked wonders at alleviating your deep seated stress. You turned your head to face away, knowing it would be for the best.

You made small talk the best you could, finding it hard to speak when certain tight areas were touched, cutting off whatever it was that you were saying. It made you wonder how Joe did this as often as he did, focusing on the temporary hurt being worth it in the end. After about 40ish minutes, they began to finish up and gave you both a few minutes to relax while they went and cleaned up their hands.

You sat up to stretch, reaching your arms above your head and appreciated the lack of pain when you did. You felt Joe’s eyes locked on your body sensing the heat in his gaze without meeting his eyes. He stood up off of his table, not worrying about wrapping his robe back around him. He came to where you were sitting, leaning into you with his hands pressing into the massage table on either side of your legs. His knuckles brushed against your exposed skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Joe leaned down more to meet your ear, bracing for what filth was about to come out of his mouth.

“You bet your sweet ass the minute they leave, I’m gonna have you screaming my name for so long your voice will be gone by dinner time,” he whispered, his voice husky and dripping with lust.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, seeing that it was only barely lunch time. You breath caught in your throat as Joe brought one of his hands up to cup your cheek, slipping down to lightly grip your throat. You swore you forgot how to breathe, getting so lost in the moment that the sound of running water scared you back into reality. Remembering you weren’t alone and could get caught with Joe hand around your throat at any moment made a new wave of pleasure wash over you.

You separated when you heard the footsteps begin to get closer. Heat crept up your cheeks at almost being caught in a not so innocent position, even if you were in your own home. You chatted for a few minutes while they packed everything up. You talked about tentative plans for another appointment soon, now that you knew what you were missing out on. You had barely walked them out the door before Joe was behind you in his robe. Your front was pressed against the cold material of the front door, eliciting a gasp from your parted lips. 

“Do you know how hard it was to just lay there knowing you were wearing so little beside me,” Joe said as he slipped your robe off your shoulders placing kisses to the exposed skin, “making all of those little noises of yours.”

Joe slipped the robe off the rest of your body, letting it fall to the floor. Turning you around to face him, keeping your proximity to one another so close it was hard for you to spin. He dropped to his knees before you, taking in the sight before you. He slipped off your shorts, growling at the sight before him.

You had forgone underwear, forgetting to sip some on after this morning and assuming the coverage of the shorts would be sufficient enough. In hindsight, it worked as easier access for a moment like this.

“Naughty girl, getting that entire massage while eye fucking me with this bare pussy,” Joe chastized into the flesh of your thighs, alternating between kissing and nipping at your skin.

“I was too preoccupied this morning, I guess I must’ve forgotten,” you spoke, half lying as you tried to keep your head on straight from his touch so close to where you wanted him the most.

“Likely story, you could’ve had this pussy wrapped around my cock this morning, but someone had to be a tease,” Joe said as he brought his hand down to your wet pussy.

Joe wasted no time in latching his mouth onto your center, feeling so close a release already from how strung up your body already was. He alternated between licking and sucking that your mind was spinning. You gripped your hands into his hair, tugging slightly to let him know how close to the edge you were.

Right as you were about to fall over it, Joe pulled back and stood to meet your lips in a rough kiss. You groaned in frustration at your lack of climax, irritated at how close yet so far you were from release. When Joe pulled back 

“What the hell J, I was so fucking close,” you whined, knowing you sounded like a brat.

“You’ll get there when I let you, if someone was nicer to me this morning then they wouldn’t be left hanging would they,” Joe said as he sauntered off towards the stairs, “I'm gonna hop in the shower. I want you on the bed and ready for me once I’m out and maybe I’ll let you cum if you behave.”

You were stunned in your spot for a moment. The time off seems to already be doing wonders for his mood, the downside being that he had time to be just as much of a tease as you were. You hustled up the stairs doing exactly what he asked. You were glad that your body was relaxed, not sure if Joe would be using that to his advantage. You could get used to disconnected Joe.

[theonottsbxtch]

HOPELESS | PO5

an: first time writing pato and i know i've written him less cocky and flirty than i wold have personally expected him being depicted. but i think for this request it worked in my favour.

wc: 3.3k

Pato had never been particularly good with words, but that didn’t matter much in motorsport. Out on the track, skill spoke louder than conversation, and for the most part, he was fine with that.

But with her, it was different.

She was the first-ever Indy champion, a driver who had carved her name into history with raw talent and relentless determination. Everyone knew her, everyone respected her—himself included. The other drivers had stories about her, moments shared in garages and on podiums, inside jokes and easy camaraderie. He had none of that.

For some reason, he simply didn’t exist in her world.

It wasn’t that she disliked him. There were no grudges, no bad blood. She treated him with the same polite professionalism she extended to reporters or engineers she barely knew. And yet, when he spoke, her responses were clipped, transactional. If she laughed at a joke in the paddock, it was never one of his. If she scanned a room, her gaze slid past him like he was a shadow against the wall.

It shouldn't have bothered him. It did.

Because Pato had been nursing a hopeless, ridiculous crush on her for as long as he could remember.

It wasn’t immediate, this thing he had for her. It crept up on him, slow and insidious, like the way tyre wear set in over a long stint—barely noticeable at first, until suddenly, it was all he could think about.

Maybe it started the first time he saw her race, years ago, before he even had a seat in IndyCar. He remembered watching from the pit wall, the way she danced through traffic, fearless and calculated, wringing every ounce of speed from a car that should’ve been struggling. He told himself back then that it was admiration, the kind any driver would have for another at the top of their game. But admiration didn’t tie knots in his stomach when she brushed past him in the paddock, nor did it make him hyper-aware of every offhand comment she made.

No, this was something worse.

And she had no idea.

Pato had tried to make an impression—nothing over the top, just little things. A comment here, a question there, something to make him more than just another driver in the field. It never landed. She’d acknowledge him, sure, but only in the way she acknowledged anyone she wasn’t particularly close with. There was no spark of recognition, no shift in her tone when she spoke to him.

Everyone else had that with her. Everyone but him.

And the worst part? He had no idea why.

It wasn’t arrogance; he knew his place in the pecking order. He wasn’t naïve enough to think he deserved her attention just because he wanted it. But it wasn’t as if they’d ever clashed, either. He’d never taken her out of a race, never bad-mouthed her, never done anything that might explain why she skimmed over him like he was background noise.

He’d never mattered to her.

And yet, she was all that mattered to him.

He knew he needed to get rid of his hopeless crush on her.

It was stupid. Pointless. Self-inflicted torture.

He told himself that constantly, especially when she breezed past him in the paddock without a second glance, or when she laughed—really laughed—at something another driver said, like they were in on some joke he would never be part of.

He needed to move on.

Until they were paired for pre-season media.

For a whole week.

Pato stared at the email in his inbox, half-convinced it was a mistake. Media obligations were a necessary evil in racing, but they were usually spread out, different drivers rotating in and out for interviews, photoshoots, sponsor promos. This, however, was something else.

A full week of interviews, press events, and behind-the-scenes content. Together.

The logic made sense. She was the reigning champion, the face of the sport. He was coming off a strong season, a title contender in his own right. Pairing them up created a compelling narrative—two of the top drivers, side by side, setting the tone for the year ahead.

For everyone else, it was great marketing.

For Pato, it was a disaster waiting to happen.

Because how was he supposed to pretend she didn’t affect him when he’d be stuck with her for seven straight days? When he’d have to sit next to her, answer questions about their "rivalry" (which didn’t exist, considering she barely registered his presence), and—God help him—probably pose for staged social media content where they’d be forced to look like they were actually friends?

He could already see it: a carefully curated clip of them laughing at some scripted joke, the kind of moment fans would eat up. She’d be effortless, charming as ever. And him? He’d be struggling to act like he wasn’t hanging onto every word she said.

It was going to be the longest week of his life.

The first day of pre-season media started early. Too early for Pato to be dealing with this.

He arrived at the studio ahead of schedule, hoping that being early would give him time to settle in. It didn’t. The place was already a whirlwind of activity—PR reps barking orders, camera crews setting up lights, stylists buzzing around like it was the Met Gala instead of a bunch of racing drivers doing press.

And she was already there.

He spotted her near one of the backdrops, talking to a producer, nodding along as they ran through the schedule. Effortlessly composed, like she’d done this a thousand times before. Which, of course, she had.

She was dressed in team gear, but even the plain polo and branded jacket looked good on her, like she belonged on the cover of a motorsport magazine. He forced himself to look away before his brain could start romanticising something as stupid as the way she stood—like she owned the room without even trying.

She hadn’t noticed him yet.

Good.

Maybe he could get through this week by staying in the background, doing his job, keeping things professional. He just had to ignore the fact that every time she looked through him, it twisted something in his gut.

“Ah, Pato! You’re here.”

Too late.

One of the PR reps clapped him on the shoulder before steering him forward, right into her line of sight. She turned at the sound of his name, her expression shifting from polite focus to something neutral. Not cold, not unkind—just nothing.

“Morning,” she said, like it was an afterthought.

“Morning.” His voice came out steadier than he expected, which was a miracle in itself.

She gave a small nod, then looked back at the producer, clearly expecting the conversation to move on without him.

Of course.

The PR rep cleared their throat. “Right! So, you two are paired for the day, and we’ve got a packed schedule. First up—some quickfire Q&A for the socials, then a sit-down interview for the pre-season documentary.”

Pato nodded, determined to act like this was just another media obligation. Nothing unusual. Nothing worth overthinking.

Until the PR rep added, far too casually—

“And after lunch, we’ll be doing some fun challenges—bit of a ‘getting to know each other’ vibe. Teamwork exercises, that sort of thing.”

He froze.

So did she.

Her brows pulled together, just slightly. It wasn’t irritation, more like mild confusion—like she couldn’t understand why they had been chosen for something like that.

“Right,” she said eventually. “Sounds… fun.”

It didn’t sound fun. Not to her. Definitely not to him.

Pato had wanted her to acknowledge him. To notice him.

Now, for the first time in his career, they were going to be forced to interact properly.

And he had no idea if he was ready for it.

The first part of the day went about as well as Pato had expected—awkwardly, painfully, and with absolutely no shift in how she saw him.

The quickfire Q&A session was fine. Standard questions, standard answers. They sat side by side while an off-camera producer fired prompts at them. Who had the better qualifying record? (Her.) Who was most likely to be late to a team meeting? (Him.) Who had the worst taste in music? (Also him, apparently, judging by the way she scrunched her nose when he admitted to liking 80s rock.)

She didn’t laugh at him, but she didn’t laugh with him either. The same easy, effortless energy she had with other drivers wasn’t there. It was all business, like she was just getting through another obligation.

The sit-down interview wasn’t much better.

“Describe each other in three words.”

Pato hesitated. Three words. Just three? He could name 100 if she asked.

“Fast,” he said eventually, because obviously. “Consistent. And… competitive.”

She gave a small nod, acknowledging the answer, but there was nothing behind it.

When it was her turn, she barely hesitated. “Skilled. Focused.” A pause. “Quiet.”

Quiet.

It wasn’t wrong, exactly. He was quieter than most of the grid, more measured with his words. But coming from her, it felt less like an observation and more like confirmation—of what, he wasn’t sure. Maybe that she still didn’t really see him.

By the time lunch rolled around, he was convinced nothing about their dynamic was going to change.

And then, the afternoon happened.

The "fun challenges," as the PR rep had so kindly put it, turned out to be a mix of stupid icebreaker games and team-building exercises.

The first was a trust exercise.

“Okay, you know how this works,” the producer explained, gesturing between them. “Pato, stand behind her. She’s going to fall, and you’re going to catch her.”

Pato’s brain short-circuited.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, looking more amused than anything. “Try not to drop me, yeah?”

It was the first remotely casual thing she’d said to him all day.

He managed a smirk. “No promises.”

A tiny, almost imperceptible twitch of her lips. Not a full smile. Not even close. But it was something.

She turned back around, took a breath, and let herself fall.

For a split second, he almost forgot to catch her. Not on purpose—he just wasn’t used to her being this close, trusting him with something as simple as this.

His arms wrapped around her waist just in time, stopping her before she hit the ground. For the briefest moment, she was right there, weight pressed against him, her head tilting slightly as if she was about to glance back.

And then it was over.

She straightened up, stepping away, brushing her hands over her jacket like nothing had happened.

“Not bad,” she admitted.

Pato exhaled, forcing his brain back into normal function. “Told you I wouldn’t drop you.”

She hummed, considering. “I thought you said no promises.”

He blinked. Was she—was she teasing him?

Before he could figure out how to respond, the producer clapped their hands together. “Great! Next challenge—answering questions for each other. Let’s see how well you really know your gridmate.”

Her brow lifted slightly as she looked at Pato.

Gridmates.

They weren’t. Not really.

But for this week, maybe they had to be.

The rest of the week blurred into a cycle of press obligations, staged interactions, and an ever-present awareness that, for the first time in his career, she actually had to acknowledge him.

It wasn’t much—small, incremental shifts that barely felt like progress. But Pato noticed everything.

The way she started looking at him when he spoke, instead of through him. The way she started responding to his jokes—not always with laughter, but with a twitch of her lips, like she was holding something back. The way she started actually engaging with him, even if it was just subtle, throwaway comments between takes.

By the time they reached the final stretch of media duties, it was easier. Almost natural.

Almost.

The moment that stuck with him, though—the one that lodged itself in his brain like an unshakable thought—came on the second-to-last day, during lunch.

He hadn’t even realised she was nearby until she was standing in front of him, hand extended. A cereal bar. Nothing fancy. Just one of those standard protein bars the teams kept stocked for quick energy.

Pato frowned, looking between the bar and her face, like there was some hidden meaning he wasn’t catching. “What’s this?”

She tilted her head slightly, like he was the one being strange. “You haven’t eaten yet.”

He blinked. “How do you—”

“You always wait until the last second, and then you grab something just before the next shoot.” She shrugged. “Figured I’d save you the trouble.”

Pato stared. Not because it was a grand gesture—if anything, it was small. Thoughtless, even. Like she’d noticed, made a decision, and moved on without thinking too much about it.

And maybe that’s what got to him.

She noticed.

She noticed.

Before he could say anything, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving him standing there, cereal bar in hand, trying very hard not to read into something that probably meant nothing.

Probably.

That night, Pato was actively losing his mind.

The cereal bar was still sitting on his hotel nightstand, untouched. He didn’t even like that flavour. That wasn’t the point.

She had noticed him. Noticed him. And not in the usual, fleeting, empty way where he barely registered in her head. She had paid attention. To his habits. To the fact that he was terrible at remembering to eat on time. She had walked over, handed it to him, and left before he could so much as process the fact that it had even happened.

What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

There was only one person he trusted to make sense of this for him.

His mother.

He pressed the phone to his ear, pacing his hotel room like an idiot, waiting for her to pick up.

“¿Mijo?” came her warm, familiar voice. “¿Qué pasó? It’s late where you are, are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay,” he said, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’m losing my mind.”

She sighed, the kind of exasperated sound that only a mother could perfect. “Ay, Dios. ¿Qué hiciste ahora?”

“Nothing! That’s the problem!”

A pause. “… Es por una chica, no?”

Pato groaned. “Of course you immediately know it’s about a girl.”

“Because you sound like your father when he was being tonto about me,” she said, unimpressed. “Who is she?”

He exhaled. “It’s—ugh. It’s her.”

His mother knew exactly who he meant. He had never explicitly told her about his hopeless crush, but she wasn’t stupid. The one time she’d come to a race and met his fellow drivers, she had taken one look at him watching her across the paddock and raised a knowing eyebrow.

“Ah,” she said, like that explained everything. “And what has she done to make you so dramatic?”

“She gave me a cereal bar.”

A long silence. Then—

“… Perdón?”

“A cereal bar! At lunch! She just—she noticed that I wasn’t eating on time and handed me one and walked away like it was nothing.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And I know it’s stupid, but she’s never noticed me before. Not really. And now she’s—she’s just—”

“Being nice?” his mother finished dryly.

Pato groaned. “Yes. No. Maybe?”

Another sigh. “Mijo, listen to me. You have been in love with this girl for—what? A year? More? And you’ve done nothing because you convinced yourself she doesn’t care. And now that she’s proving you wrong, you’re still doing nothing?”

“I—”

“Ay, Patricio.” When she used his full name, he knew he was in trouble. “What do you want? Honestly.”

Pato sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

“I want her to see me the way I see her,” he admitted, quiet.

His mother’s voice softened. “Then haz algo, hijo. Do something. Say something. Stop standing in the background of your own story.”

Pato closed his eyes.

She made it sound so simple.

It wasn’t.

But maybe… maybe it didn’t have to be impossible, either.

Pato barely slept.

His mother’s words looped in his head all night. Do something. Say something. As if it were that easy. As if he could just shake off a year of being invisible and suddenly be someone that mattered to her.

By the time 5 a.m. rolled around and his brain still refused to shut up, he gave up on sleep entirely. He pulled on a hoodie, grabbed his keycard, and made his way downstairs to the hotel’s outdoor pool, hoping that the quiet would clear his head.

And then he saw her.

She was sitting at the edge of the pool, feet dipped in the water, arms braced behind her as she stared out at the city lights reflecting off the still surface.

Pato froze.

His body screamed at him to turn around before she noticed him. But then she shifted slightly, head tilting at the sound of footsteps. Her gaze landed on him.

Too late.

He had two options: pretend he had some other reason to be here, or…

Do something.

Taking a slow breath, he stepped forward, pulling off his hoodie and tossing it onto a nearby lounger before sitting down a few feet away from her.

“You do realise this isn’t a race,” he said, nudging his chin towards the water. “No need to be this dedicated to aerodynamics.”

She huffed a quiet laugh through her nose, shaking her head. “It’s peaceful. And I couldn’t sleep.”

“Same,” he admitted, nudging his bare feet into the water. It was cool, not freezing, but enough to shock his system awake.

A beat of silence stretched between them. Not awkward, but not entirely comfortable either.

Talk, his mother’s voice nagged in his head. Say something.

“So,” Pato started, searching for anything to keep the moment from slipping away. “Since we’re stuck doing media together, I feel like I should get some information. Y’know, for survival.”

She raised a brow. “Survival?”

“Yeah. Like, what’s your go-to pre-race meal? Most important question, obviously.”

That earned him an actual smirk. “Pasta. Always.”

“Solid choice,” he mused. “Okay, follow-up: if you weren’t a driver, what would you be doing?”

She hummed, tilting her head in thought. “Something adrenaline-based. Maybe skydiving. Or stunt driving.”

Pato snorted. “I can definitely see that.”

“What about you?” she asked, glancing at him.

He blinked, caught off guard. Not just by the question—but by the fact that she was asking in the first place.

“Probably something quiet,” he admitted. “Maybe a mechanic. Or a watchmaker.”

That made her actually turn towards him, brows raised. “A watchmaker?”

He shrugged. “I like precision. Small moving parts. Everything fitting together perfectly.”

She studied him for a moment, like she was seeing him properly for the first time.

Before Pato could think too hard about that, he exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, last question.”

She arched a brow. “Go on.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

She hesitated, glancing away. “Extra media obligations. All day.”

Pato nodded, swallowing the mild disappointment that settled in his chest. “Right. Of course.”

But then—she paused.

“… But I’m free after eight. Why?”

His pulse kicked up, and before he could overthink it, the words tumbled out.

“Dinner,” he said. “Just as grid mates.”

She looked at him. Really looked at him. Then—her lips quirked slightly.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Pato’s brain immediately short-circuited.

“N—no,” he said too quickly, scrambling to backpedal. “I mean, it’s not—obviously not—”

“That’s a shame,” she interrupted, standing up and stepping out of the pool. She grabbed a towel, casually drying off her legs. “Because I would have said yes.”

Pato forgot how to breathe.By the time he managed to reboot his brain and form a response, she was already walking away, leaving him sitting there—staring after her, heart pounding, and officially, completely doomed.

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow @isaadore

[witchywithwhiskey]

For the sweethearts game I would love to see what you do with Crazy 4 U + Andy Barber 🩷❤️🩷❤️

your favorite sweet treat

pairing: boyfriend!andy barber x female reader

summary: after your valentine's day date in the city, you stop at a diner with your boyfriend, and when you don't share your milkshake, he decides to steal a taste of something else.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!); smut; vaginal fingering; fingerfucking; semi-public sex; come eating; orgasm control/denial; light bdsm; risk aware consensual kink; quiet sex; oral sex (m receiving); road head; brief mentions of piv sex, spanking, and more overt bdsm dynamics (including punishments); dirty talk; daddy kink; praise kink; some degradation kink; begging; pet names (babygirl, baby); established relationship

word count: 3.8k

a/n: ahh Cate, thank you for sending in this prompt!! i don't remember where i got the idea, but i wanted to do something with a diner and it just made sense to use Andy. plus i love the idea of straight-laced lawyer Andy being a little reckless on Valentine's Day 🤭 thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

sweethearts game masterlist

“You look like you’re really enjoying that milkshake, babygirl.”

The neon lights of the diner shone brightly in the dark February night as you cut your eyes to Andy Barber, who sat beside you in the booth. The lawyer, dressed in a suit that was more than a little rumpled after your Valentine’s Day date in the city, was eying the milkshake in your hand with a hungry look. 

“Mhmm, it’s very good,” you agreed sweetly, knowing exactly what Andy was angling for and refusing to give in so easily. If he wanted a taste, he’d have to ask directly—or wrest the chilled glass from your determined fingers, especially since he was liable to drink half of it in one gulp. 

Andy chuckled at your seemingly innocent response, turning toward you in the booth in the back corner of the diner, where you’d stopped for a late dinner after seeing a show in Boston, and shifted closer to you. He lay his arm across the back of the bench seat, his big body curling around yours while he ducked his head close.

You watched him sharply, a ripple of heat curling in your belly as you noticed the way his eyes were fixed on your mouth. He stared at your lips as they wrapped around the straw and you took a sip of the sweet drink, seeing his gaze darken infinitesimally.

You let the straw fall away from your lips and darted your tongue out to savor the milkshake’s flavor, delighting in the quiet groan that rumbled in Andy’s chest. The satisfaction of teasing him made you smile.

“Why don’t you let me have a taste?” Andy murmured, his voice low and enticing. His words were barely louder than the 60s Motown music playing from the classic jukebox across the diner, but you could hear him well enough.

Andy was so close that you could feel his warm breath against your cheek and it almost made you want to give in, just so he could understand how good the milkshake truly was. He’d seemed satisfied with the burger he’d polished off, so surely he wouldn’t drink all of it before he gave it back…

But then you saw the glimmer of greediness in Andy’s gaze and you knew that if you let him have just one small taste, he was going to drink the milkshake in half a second—and it was just too good to share. It was rich and thick and creamy perfection. You couldn’t risk giving Andy any because he’d take too much.

“Get your own,” you said airily, tossing your head and turning so you were giving Andy your back as much as you could in the vinyl booth. You even curled protectively around your milkshake, taking furtive sips as you enjoyed its sweetness. 

Andy laughed lowly, but there was something a little dark in the pleasant sound that had your body going on delicious alert. Instead of making a play for your milkshake, though, he dropped a kiss to your shoulder, his lips pressing against the bare skin between the thin strap of your dress and where your cardigan had slipped down your arm.

He nuzzled into your shoulder, his hot mouth dragging over your skin an exquisite contrast to the rough rasp of his beard. It was so distracting, you nearly missed the moment when his hand fell on your thighs and began to skim higher. 

It wasn’t until Andy’s fingers pushed beneath the hem of your dress that you realized what he was doing. You had to bite back a gasp of surprised delight as heat bloomed, hot and insistent, in the core of your belly, settling heavily between your thighs, which spread instinctively for Andy’s hand.

“If you won’t give me a taste of your milkshake, babygirl,” Andy rumbled in your ear, his voice deep and warm and so rich, it sent shivers down your spine. “I’ll have to take a taste of something else.” His fingers pushed between your plush thighs and swiped at the already damp fabric of your panties. 

“Andy,” you said on a sharp exhale. You’d been aiming for a scolding tone, but your whisper was too fluttery, too drenched in needy lust, and there was no real recrimination in your tone.

Still, you remembered where you were, and your eyes flicked around the diner. 

It was late, nearly midnight, so the place was practically empty. The only people in the whole building were a lone man sitting at the counter on the opposite side of the diner, and the waitress and cook, who were talking to each other through the order window. 

“You’re crazy,” you murmured, keeping your voice low so as not to draw attention, even as your legs fell open in wordless invitation. 

Andy was quick to act on the invitation, his fingers curling around the edge of your silk panties and sweeping along your damp slit. He gathered your wetness on the pads of his fingertips, his touch sending sparks of pleasure dancing through your body and you had to silence a whimper by taking another sip of your milkshake. 

“Crazy for you.” Andy’s words were purred in your ear, and you could hear the smile on his handsome face without even turning to look. But you did turn, just in time to watch him pull his fingers from between your thighs and slide them into his mouth.

You turned toward Andy more fully, watching eagerly as he licked the taste of you from his fingers, his eyes sliding closed as he groaned in pleasure. The sight was so erotic, you could feel yourself drip even more wetness into your already very damp panties.

For a brief moment, you entertained the thought of Andy Barber, your serious lawyer, getting down on his knees right there in the diner and tasting you straight from the source. It was a delicious, deviant thought, one that would no doubt end up with Andy getting disbarred, but it was fun to think about.

Andy’s eyes opened and they caught your undivided attention. His gaze, darkened with lust and sparkling with hunger, roved over your face, taking in your expression—and that was enough for him to know you’d been thinking dirty thoughts about him.

An obscenely self-satisfied grin spread across his handsome face, making him look even more sinfully hot. Andy ducked closer, so his forehead was pressed against your temple, and spoke directly into your ear.

“Does my babygirl like it when daddy fingers her sweet little pussy while she’s drinking her milkshake and not sharing it with me?” he asked teasingly, his hand falling to your thigh again and letting his thumb draw small circles on your bare skin. 

A whine rose up in your throat, but you held it back. With another furtive glance around the diner to make sure no one was paying attention to you and Andy, and they couldn’t see what you were doing while you were sequestered in the back corner booth, you spread your legs even wider. 

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered, nodding for good measure as you looked up at him from under your lashes, your lips curving in a sweet smile. 

A moment later, you had to bite back a gasp when Andy curled his fingers around your knee and pulled your thigh over his leg, opening you up obscenely wide and forcing the skirt of your dress to ride up improperly high on your legs. The cool air of the diner brushed against your heated core and you couldn’t help but squirm on the vinyl seat.

“Oh god,” you whimpered, turning your face into Andy’s shoulder to muffle a helpless moan. The fabric of his suit jacket was soft and cool against your heated skin. When you breathed in, you could smell the familiar scent of his spicy cologne, and it filled your head with even more fluffy clouds of desire.

“Be a good girl and drink your milkshake, babygirl,” Andy said, his voice warm, but with the steel of a command. His fingers skimmed up your thigh, raising goosebumps in their wake, and dove beneath your panties to slip teasingly through your wetness. “Daddy’s going to play with your pretty little pussy, and if you can stay quiet, I’ll let you cum.”

“Daddy, you have to let me cum,” you whined, pouting up at Andy with your widest, most innocent eyes. But, though you saw the corner of his mouth flicker in a smirk, he gave you a stern look and nodded his head toward the cold glass still clutched in your hands. 

Obediently, you wrapped your lips around the straw and took a deep pull of the creamy treat. All the while, Andy’s fingers explored your pussy, sweeping teasingly along your slit, dipping shallowly into your hole and gathering your arousal to rub lazy little circles around your clit.

It felt so good that your mind drifted hazily in pleasure. The rest of the diner fell away until it was just you and Andy in your secluded vinyl booth, his hand doing filthy things with your pussy while you hypnotically sucked on the straw of your milkshake. 

All you could do was focus on the sweetness on your tongue and the pleasure building between your thighs—and staying quiet, which grew increasingly difficult the longer Andy played with your pussy. Thankfully, the straw in your mouth helped muffle your little huffs and quiet whimpers of need.

When Andy finally slid his finger into your aching, fluttering hole, it felt so good that you forgot yourself. Your entire being was reduced to your inner walls clenching greedily around his thick finger, wordlessly begging for another, begging to be stretched around as many of Andy’s fingers as he could fit in your tight cunt. 

Overwhelmed, you had to stop drinking your milkshake so you could let out a low moan, forgetting to bury your face in Andy’s jacket. The noise spilled into the diner, with only the music from the jukebox masking the sound of your debauched pleasure.

Thankfully, no one seemed to hear it except Andy, who froze immediately. A rumbling sound of recrimination came from his chest as he shifted in the booth, curling around you even more and crowding you into the wall so that you were hidden entirely from the view of the rest of the diner.

“Be quiet, babygirl,” he growled, more bite than warmth in his voice. The dominance in his tone made your pussy squeeze around his finger and you mewled quietly into his shoulder. “Unless you want everyone in this diner to know what a little slut you are, letting daddy finger you in public and getting so wet for me, you need to be quiet.”

Although Andy’s words had the desired effect of admonishing you about how important it was that you stay quiet—since a public indecency charge could lead to his disbarment—they also drove your need and desire higher. His warning reminded you of how dirty and filthy the two of you were being, him with his hand up your skirt and you getting off on it.

So you forced yourself to take a deep, calming breath, clearing some of the hazy pleasure from your mind and buried your face in Andy’s neck. The rasp of his beard against your temple and the smell of his cologne filling your senses calmed you enough to let out a sweet little sigh and find your words.

“It’s the milkshake, daddy,” you said in your most innocent voice, placing a kiss against the side of his neck and grinning when you were rewarded with Andy’s big body shuddering beneath your frosty lips. “It’s just so creamy and delicious.”

Your voice was thick with innuendo so Andy didn’t buy your guilelessness for a moment, but he chuckled indulgently and brushed a forgiving kiss to the apple of your cheek. 

“Then you should keep drinking, babygirl,” he urged, his hand beginning to move again as he withdrew his finger from your warm cunt and pushed it back inside. He quickly added a second finger, the slick of your arousal making it easy to push inside your tight hole. “Because you’re not gonna cum until you finish all of it.”

A petulant whine slipped from your mouth, but at Andy’s stern look, you wrapped your lips around the straw of your milkshake and prepared to drink the rest. 

Peering down into the glass, you were relieved to see there wasn’t much left at the bottom and nearly huffed a laugh. Wasn’t it only a little while ago that you were hoarding the milkshake all to yourself? 

In that moment, you nearly wished you’d given Andy a taste. But then he never would’ve subjected you to the delicious torture of his fingers between your thighs in the back of that diner, and it would’ve been a damn shame to miss out on the orgasm he was driving you toward.

You took a deep pull on the straw of your milkshake, reveling in the delicious sweetness of the creamy treat, and nearly spit it all over the table when Andy’s thumb brushed against your clit. You managed to swallow and hold in your desperate moan, but it was a near thing. 

Andy rubbed steady, leisurely circles on your clit as he fucked you with two fingers, pumping into your hole like he was barely trying to make you cum, which only made what he was doing so much hotter. Your head was tucked beneath his chin and he murmured soft praises, telling you how good you were, how well you were taking his fingers.

You fell back into your mesmeric daze of pleasure, sucking on the straw in your mouth while Andy fucked your pussy with his fingers. He thrust into you with rhythmic strokes that drove your pleasure higher and higher so gradually, you barely recognized it as you drifted in bliss. 

It wasn’t until the sharp sucking sound of your straw pulling in air that you roused from the depths of your pleasure. Still, out of habit, your lips pulled on the straw, trying to suck up every last drop of the delicious milkshake, enjoying the final remnants of sweetness as they trickled onto your tongue. 

“Good girl, such a good girl,” Andy cooed, his arm along the back of the booth curling around your shoulders to pluck the glass from your fingers and set it on the table. Then he pulled you deeper into his chest, your face pushing into the gap between the collar of his dress shirt and his warm skin. “Do you wanna cum now, babygirl?”

“Yes, please,” you whined softly, feeling achy and needy. “Make me cum, daddy, please,” you begged in a voice barely louder than a whisper. Your hips rocked into Andy’s hand, meeting the thrust of his fingers as he added a third, stretching you enough to make you whimper and bury your face more firmly into his neck. 

“Such a perfect girl, did such a good job drinking your milkshake and staying quiet while I fingerfucked your needy pussy, babygirl,” Andy purred in your ear, his hand working faster between your thighs, his fingers curling deep inside to press against the spot that made your whole body tremble. “You’re such a good girl, did so well for daddy, baby.”

Your fingers, still chilled from the milkshake glass, pressed beneath the lapels of Andy’s jacket, reveling in the warmth of his body through his dress shirt. You clung to the fabric, knowing you were wrinkling it with your desperate grip and not caring even a little bit. You couldn’t care about anything beyond Andy’s fingers fucking you, driving you straight to the edge of your release. 

“Please, daddy, please let me cum,” you begged on a silent sob of pleasure, opening your legs wider until your knee nudged against the bulge in Andy’s slacks. Knowing he was hard for you only made your body hotter, achier, needier, and you whined softly into the hollow of his throat, babbling, “Please, please, please, please.” 

“Cum for me, babygirl,” Andy ordered in that warm commanding voice you loved so much. “Be a good girl and cum all over daddy’s fingers, you can do it, make a mess of daddy’s hand.” His thumb pressed harder against your clit, fingers stroking the spot inside you, his words urging you on. “Good girl, baby, cum for daddy—cum for me, babygirl.”

All at once, the tension in your belly snapped and you shattered apart on Andy’s hand, burying your face deep into the fabric of his jacket and dress shirt to muffle your moans as you came. Your pussy clamped down on Andy’s fingers, sucking them in deeper while he fucked you lazily through your release, still rubbing soft circles on your clit to drag out your pleasure.

It went on like that for what felt like ages. Andy didn’t stop until you were whining at the overstimulation, your body trembling while you struggled to pull yourself up from where you’d slumped against him. 

You met his gaze, the small, self-satisfied smile nestled in his thick beard sending another tendril of heat curling in your belly. Then you grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him in for a kiss.

You kissed Andy hard, your tongue plunging into his mouth and letting him taste the sweetness of your milkshake on your lips. You could taste the faint traces of your own desire on his tongue and you moaned into the kiss, scooting nearer to him on the vinyl seat of the booth, practically climbing into his lap in an effort to get closer to him.

“Mm, your milkshake tastes very good,” Andy murmured when you separated to catch your breath. “But I think your pussy will always be my favorite sweet treat.”

He popped his fingers in his mouth, sucking on them lewdly and licking them clean with such unabashed zeal, you couldn’t help but pull him in for another all-consuming kiss, groaning at the delicious mixture of tastes as you licked the tartness of yourself from his mouth. 

For long moments, you savored each other, but Andy gently slowed the kiss and eventually pulled away. His cheeks were flushed a little pink above his beard as he rearranged his hard bulge in his slacks to be less obvious, and he had to take a few deep, calming breaths before he was ready to stand. 

Andy paid the bill for your dinner at the cash register near the door, then tugged you out to the parking lot of the diner. He opened the passenger side door of his sleek car for you and helped you inside before getting into the driver’s seat and pulling back onto the dark road that would take you home. 

Thankfully, since it was so late, there was no one else on the road—no one else to see you reach across the car’s console and greedily undo Andy’s belt and fly. You reached inside his pants to pull out his half-hard cock before he even had a chance to say anything.

“What’re you doing, babygirl?” Andy asked in a deep, gruff voice, glancing away from the dark road as it wound and curled through the Massachusetts countryside outside Boston.

“That milkshake hit the spot, but now I want my favorite sweet treat, daddy,” you said tartly, then you rearranged yourself in the passenger seat, leaving your seatbelt buckled over your lap while you leaned over the low console and pressed a kiss to the tip of Andy’s cock. “If you can keep us from crashing, I’ll let you cum,” you purred, echoing Andy’s earlier words.

The sound that came from Andy’s mouth was part groan, part breathless laugh. You half expected him to refuse your game, to pull you away and give you a stern warning about the importance of safe driving, but there must’ve been some kind of magic in the late night air, some kind of spell cast in time to make your Valentine’s Day perfectly debauched, because he didn’t. 

Instead, the car slowed, which you knew was Andy’s way of taking precautions to make sure you were as safe as you could be while gave him road head. But it made you smirk against his tip, because it meant it would take more time for the two of you to get home, and you could play with him for even longer.

“Enjoy your treat, babygirl,” Andy rumbled, his voice deliciously deep, with just a hint of the steel dominance that made your pussy wet. “Because when we get home, I’ll be teaching you a lesson about not distracting daddy while he’s driving.”

Your whole body clenched at the promise and you grinned against Andy’s cock, dragging your plump lips down the thick ridge on the underside of his dick. You lapped eagerly at his balls before murmuring, “I’m looking forward to it, daddy.” 

Then you licked up the length of his cock and wrapped your lips around the tip, tongue sweeping through the slit and moaning when you tasted his salty precum. One of Andy’s hands fell to the back of your head, petting your hair lovingly while the other held the steering wheel so tight, you could hear the leather creak.

For the rest of the drive home, you sucked Andy’s cock just as leisurely and reverently as he’d played with your pussy, savoring the taste of him and burying your face in his balls while you stroked him steadily. By the time you made it home, Andy’s cock was a throbbing, leaking mess covered in your spit, but he refused to let you make him cum. 

That, he said, would have to wait until after your punishment. 

Andy’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight as he dragged you into the home you shared, telling you he hoped you’d enjoyed your favorite sweet treat, because he was going to make you beg and cry on his cock until you’d repented for being bad and were his good girl again. 

Since Andy Barber was the type of man to follow through on his threats and promises, you endured your punishment—a spanking, over his knee, while your pussy dripped all over his thigh. Then he stretched you out on his thick cock, pounding into you relentlessly and withholding your release until you were crying and begging to cum, apologizing for distracting him while he was driving.

You enjoyed every moment of it, and it was all worth it because at the end of the night, Andy Barber gave you your favorite sweet treat—his cock shoved deep in your throat, filling your mouth with cum while you swallowed greedily with a smile on your face.

sweethearts game masterlist

[jisungiesvzz]

Hii I absolutely loves ur fanfic!! Would u mind doing a jeongin version on unexpected?

I'm sorry this took so long to write! I’ve been having heavy workloads from school and I've also had writers block ugh. Anyways, I hope you enjoy :).

Crossing Lines

Idol!Jeongin x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing lessons, making out, neck kissing

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: please let me know if I missed warnings, otherwise enjoy :)

Versions: Hyunjin // Han // Jeongin

—

The afternoon sun streams through Jeongin's apartment windows, casting golden hues across the living room. You sit cross-legged on the floor, a small velvet pouch between your fingers as you rummage through its contents.

"I still can't believe I forgot my jewelry," you sigh, carefully examining a silver chain with a small fox pendant. "You sure you don't mind me borrowing yours?"

Jeongin smiles from his position on the couch, phone in hand as he scrolls through his social media feed, hoping to run across a good hang out spot near you. "What's mine is yours, y/n. Three years of friendship earns you jewelry-borrowing privileges."

Giving him a soft smile, you hold up one of his earrings to the light, a simple silver hoop that catches the sunbeam and sparkles.

"It's scary how well you know me," you laugh, sorting through more pieces. "Like, you knew I'd forget something tonight."

"That's why I always keep extra stuff around for you," he replies, setting his phone down. "I am fully prepared for Hurricane Y/N."

You playfully throw a small cushion at him, which he catches effortlessly. You can't imagine your life without these little moments—the casual hang outs in his apartment, the inside jokes, the way he always seems to understand exactly what you need.

"Hey, remember that truth or dare game at Chan's party last week?" Jeongin suddenly asks, a tint of curiosity in his voice.

You groan, instantly knowing where this was heading. "Please, not this again."

"I'm just saying," he continues, sitting up straighter, "I was surprised when you said you've never been kissed. I mean, you're twenty-two!"

You feel your cheeks warm, lowering your voice to a near mumble. "So? Some people are late bloomers..."

"It's not a bad thing," Jeongin says quickly. "I just... I don't know, I just assumed you had."

You shrug, suddenly finding the jewelry in your hands incredibly fascinating. "I guess I've just never found the right person... or the right moment."

A weighted silence settles between you, unusual in its intensity. You can feel Jeongin's eyes on you, but you can't bring yourself to meet his gaze.

"I could teach you."

The words hang in the air, simple yet earth-shattering. Your head snaps up, certain you've misheard.

"Teach me what?"

Jeongin's expression is unreadable, a mix of nervousness and something else you can't quite place. "How to kiss. If you want."

You feel like the air has been sucked from the room. This is Jeongin—your best friend, the person who holds your hair back when you're sick and who can make you laugh until your sides hurt.

"That would be weird, wouldn't it?" you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugs, attempting nonchalance though you can see the tips of his ears turning pink. "Only if we make it weird. It's just a skill, like teaching someone to drive or cook."

"A skill," you repeat skeptically.

"Yeah," he says, sliding down from the couch to sit across from you on the floor. "And then when you meet someone you actually want to kiss, you'll be ready."

You bite your lip, considering the possibility. The idea sends butterflies swarming through your stomach, but there's also a strange sense of... curiosity.

"Nothing would change between us?" you ask cautiously.

Jeongin shakes his head firmly. "Nothing. We're best friends first, always. This would just be me helping you out."

You take a deep breath. "Okay."

"Okay?" His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Yes. Teach me." You confirm, your heart pounding through your chest.

Jeongin moves closer, his movements careful and deliberate. "So first, it helps if you face each other," he explains, his voice lower than usual.

You readjust your position, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of space between you and him. The jewelry laying forgotten on the floor beside you.

"Usually there's eye contact," he continues, and you force yourself to meet his gaze. His eyes—those familiar eyes you've looked into a thousand times—now seem different, deeper somehow.

You tried convincing yourself that it’s just kissing lessons but something about kissing him feels more intimate than it should.

"Then what?" you whisper.

"Then, one person usually leans in. Sometimes both." His hand comes up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, and you feel your breath catch. "Sometimes there's touching. Like this."

His fingers trace a feather-light path along your jawline, coming to rest at the nape of your neck. The sensation sends shivers down your spine.

"And then?" Your voice is barely audible now.

Instead of answering, Jeongin leans forward, closing the distance between you. His lips press against yours, gentle and questioning. Your eyes flutter closed instinctively, your hand tentatively reaching up to rest on his shoulder.

The kiss is soft, a brief moment of connection that ends almost as quickly as it began. Jeongin pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours.

"That's the basics," he says, his voice rough around the edges. "A simple first kiss."

You nod, unable to form words. Your lips tingle where his had been, and you find yourself wanting more—a realization that both thrills and terrifies you.

He's your best friend. Right…?

As if reading your thoughts, Jeongin speaks again. "Then there are... deeper kisses."

"S-show me..." you whisper, surprising yourself with your boldness.

This time when he leans in, there's an urgency that wasn't there before. His lips capture yours more confidently, one hand cradling your face while the other slides around your waist, drawing you closer. You respond instinctively, your fingers tangling in his hair, gently tugging at the strands.

What started as a lesson quickly transformed into something neither of you anticipated. The kiss deepened and you feel yourself being gently guided backward until you're lying on the floor, Jeongin hovering above you, your lips never parting.

When you finally break apart, both breathing heavily, you stare up at him in wonder. His hair is disheveled where your fingers have been, his eyes dark and intense.

"Innie…" you breathe, not knowing what else to say.

Without a word, he dives right back in, capturing your lips with a newfound hunger. There's no hesitation now, his movements filled with a hunger you’ve never seen before — his body pressing down against yours making you gasp into his mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, any thoughts of keeping distance between you long forgotten.

"There's more I can teach you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice husky with want. Before you can respond, his mouth begins to trail along your jawline, leaving a path of fire in its wake.

"Different types of kisses," he explains between soft pecks along your skin, "are for different sensations."

Your breath hitches as his lips reach the sensitive spot just below your ear. Instinctively, your head tilts to give him better access, your fingers tightening in his hair.

"Like here," he whispers, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Then his lips press against your neck, gentle at first, then with increasing pressure. The sensation is entirely new to you, electric pulses shooting through your body with each kiss.

"Innie," you gasp, overwhelmed by the feeling.

His hand slides up to cradle the other side of your neck, a small smile forming on his lips at the nick name as his thumb gently strokes your cheek, his kisses become more intense. You feel the gentle graze of his teeth, followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue against your pulse point, a soft moan falling from your lips as he repeated the action.

"Some people," he murmurs against your skin, "are more sensitive here than on their lips." As if to demonstrate, he places an open-mouthed kiss at the space where your neck meets your shoulder, causing you to arch involuntarily against him.

You're lost in sensation, any remaining thoughts about this being just a lesson completely gone. Your hands roam across his back, pulling him closer as he continues his thorough exploration of your neck.

When he finally returns to your lips, the kiss is different—deeper, more confident, as though he's staking a claim. You respond with equal fervor, the taste of him now familiar yet intoxicating.

As Jeongin pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, a small smile plays at his lips. "So," he says softly, "how was your first lesson?"

"I- I don't know what to say," you softly gasped, still recovering your breath.

Placing a soft peck on your lips, he sits up off the ground, gently taking your hand in his. "Come on. Let's go finish our original plans for the day."

Heart beating through your chest, you let him guide you off the ground and through the front door — the heated moment hanging in the air. A small part of you wishing it hadn't ended.

—

The next evening, you were in Stray Kids' dorm, squeezed comfortably between Jeongin and Hyunjin on the large sectional sofa. Chan had insisted on a movie night—something about needing to unwind after their intense practice schedule—and naturally, as Jeongin's best friend, you were included in the invitation.

What the others don't know is how everything changed between you and Jeongin just twenty-four hours ago.

The memory of his lips on yours, on your neck, makes your cheeks flush even now. You've spent most of today exchanging knowing glances, the anticipation of seeing him again had your stomach in knots all day.

"Everyone good with the movie choice?" Chan asks, remote in hand as he navigates through Netflix.

You barely register what film he selected—some action thriller the group has been wanting to watch. All you can focus on is Jeongin's proximity; the subtle scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from his body next to yours.

"Y/N, want some?" Felix offers you the bowl of popcorn from across the coffee table.

"Thanks," you murmur, reaching for it. As you settle back with the bowl, Jeongin shifts closer, his thigh now pressed firmly against yours.

The lights dim as Chan starts the movie. Under the cover of darkness, Jeongin's hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours between your bodies where no one else can see. Such a simple touch shouldn't send your heart racing, but after last night, everything is different.

Twenty minutes into the film, you're not following the plot at all. How could you, when Jeongin's thumb is tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand? When his breath occasionally tickles your ear as he leans over to whisper some joke about the movie?

By the thirty-minute mark, his hand had moved to your knee, resting there casually as though it belongs. The weight of it burns through the fabric of your jeans.

Halfway through the movie, during a particularly intense action sequence that has everyone's attention fixed on the screen, Jeongin's hand begins to move. Slowly, torturously, his fingers trace upward along your thigh, just far enough to make your breath hitch, gently squeezing the flesh.

You shoot him a warning glance, but the innocent smile he gives you in return is betrayed by the mischievous glint in his eyes. He knows exactly what he's doing.

His hand retreats momentarily when Changbin gets up to refill drinks, but as soon as everyone is settled again, it returns—this time sliding to your inner thigh, his touch feather-light but unmistakably close to where you could feel yourself growing needy. Your body responds immediately, heat pooling low in your abdomen, his hand now venturing into territory that makes your pulse quicken and your thoughts get jumbled up.

When his fingers inch higher, gently squeezing your thigh, you nearly jump. It's too much—the darkened room, his members just feet away, completely oblivious, and Jeongin's touch threatening to unravel you entirely.

"Bathroom," you whisper, standing abruptly. Jisung pauses the movie, looking up at you questioningly.

"Just need a quick bathroom break," you explain, forcing a casual smile. "Don't wait up, I've seen this part."

You slip away from the living room, heart hammering against your ribs as you make your way down the hallway. The cool bathroom tiles are a relief under your feet as you close the door behind you, leaning against it and exhaling slowly.

"Get it together," you mutter to yourself, turning to face the mirror — your reflection showing flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

Splashing cold water on your face, you hear a soft knock at the door.

"Y/N?" Jeongin's voice is low, just audible enough for you to hear. "You okay?"

Taking a deep breath, you open the door just enough to see him standing there, concern etched across his features—though the darkness of his eyes tells another story.

"I'm fine," you whisper. "We should get back before they—"

Before you can finish, Jeongin has slipped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The bathroom suddenly feeling much smaller with him in it, the air between you charged with tension.

"What are you doing?" you ask, voice sounding small.

"I couldn't help myself," he admits, closing the distance between you. "Sitting next to you, not being able to really touch you... it's driving me crazy."

"Your members are right outside," you remind him, even as your body betrays you by leaning toward his.

"They're absorbed in the movie," he counters, his hands finding your waist. "Besides, I told them you weren't feeling well and I was checking on you."

"And they believed that?"

A small smile plays at his lips. "Felix gave me a knowing look, but the others are clueless."

Your protest dies in your throat as Jeongin presses you gently against the wall, his body flush against yours. Any restraints from before evaporated into thin air as his lips capture yours in a kiss that's hungry and desperate.

Your hands immediately find their way into his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue meets yours. This isn't the careful instructional kiss from yesterday—this is raw need, months of pent-up desire finally breaking free.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he murmurs against your lips, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt to touch and squeeze the bare skin at your waist. "About you."

Your response is lost as his mouth moves to your neck, finding the sensitive spots he discovered yesterday. The sensation pulls a soft moan from you, which Jeongin quickly silences with another kiss.

"Quiet," he whispers, a teasing glint in his eye. "Unless you want everyone to hear."

The thought of being caught should terrify you, but instead, it only heightens everything—the racing of your pulse, the heat of his touch, the urgency of your kisses.

His hand slides back to your thigh, higher than he dared in the living room, his fingers tracing patterns that make your breath catch. When he presses his hips against yours, you can feel exactly how much he wants you.

"Innie," you gasp as his lips find a particularly sensitive spot below your ear.

“Fuck, y/n.” he grumbles against your neck, softly nipping and licking at the skin there, eliciting more moans from you.

“Innie, ngh, you’re gonna l-leave marks,” you whined, your defiance falling short as you arched into him.

“We should stop,” he mumbles between open mouthed kisses.

You both knew you should, but neither of you make an effort to move.

A sudden knock on the door makes you both freeze.

"Y/N? Jeongin?" It's Chan's voice. "Everything okay in there? Movie's almost over."

Removing himself from your neck, Jeongin clears his throat. "We're fine, hyung. Y/N just felt a little dizzy. We'll be out in a minute."

"Okay," Chan replies, though you can hear the question in his tone. "We're thinking of ordering food after."

Footsteps retreat down the hallway, and you both release the breath you've been holding.

Jeongin's forehead drops to yours, a small laugh escaping him. "That was close."

"Yeah," you let out breathy laugh. "We should get back."

He nods, stepping back reluctantly, but not before pressing one more lingering kiss to your lips. "This isn't over yet," he promises, his voice low with intention.

As you straighten your clothes and Jeongin attempts to fix his hair, you catch his eye in the mirror. The boy who was just your best friend yesterday now looks at you with an intensity that makes your knees weak.

"Ready?" he asks, hand on the doorknob.

You nod, knowing that while you're about to return to a room full of his members and pretend nothing has changed, everything has. The line you crossed yesterday isn't just crossed—it's been erased entirely, replaced by something new and thrilling and completely uncharted.

As Jeongin opens the door, his hand finds yours for just a moment, giving it a squeeze before letting go. It's a promise of what's to come, once you're alone again.

And suddenly, you can't wait for this movie night to end.

[chrystal-ink]

Shadow x GN reader

Hot Shower

NSFW Minors do not interact

Content warning: Smut, reader has a vagina, vaginal fingering, hand job, penis in vagina sex, sex standing up, overstimulation, kinky-ass shit with the showerhead (i don't know how else to describe it lol) Note: please do not repeat any of these actions without proper safety measures use a non-slip mat or you will likely end up in the hospital.

you heaved a sigh as the hot water rushed down your back melting some of the stress away. it had been a hard day and you needed to wash it off before you could continue with your evening.

the pulsing mode on the showerhead hit your back lightly massaging the tension out of your shoulders.

as you were getting ready to rinse off and cook dinner you heard the front door open. Shadow must have come home.

"Y/N?" he called out.

"I'm up here" you called down "Just taking a quick Shower I'll be down in a minute."

before you knew it you heard the door to the bathroom open and shut.

"No need I need to clean myself off too" Shadow said taking off his gloves and stepping into the shower behind you.

he wrapped you in an embrace clearly exhausted after a long day.

You could tell he just got back from a mission his scent enlightening your senses.

"How was your day my love?"

"Exhausting, my boss keeps getting after my ass about the most minute details." you responded

"I'm sorry about that love, is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just existing helps honestly... and maybe a back rub"

shadow gave a low chuckle his sultry voice echoing throughout the room "I'm on it my love" he placed his hands on your shoulders and began gently massaging them.

you hummed in pleasure as he made his way down your back.

as he was massaging you he couldn't help but admire the way you looked, your bear back glistened as the water cascaded down making your fur look glossy, almost glasslike. beads of water stuck to your hair and ears like beautiful fragile pearls. the scent of your soap invaded his nose comforting him and drawing him closer into you. and then your beautiful humming soft and comforting, he wanted to hear you more and hear you shout his name in pleasure.

you had a stressful day after all, it was his duty as your boyfriend to help you relive some of that stress. and if he needed to use his body to do it than so be it.

"You missed a spot my love mind if I help you get it? and you can keep telling me about your day."

"sure dear" you responded a smile evident in your tone.

you began spilling about how your boss was annoying and venting about one specific co-worker who was a constant thorn in your side. all the while shadow detached the shower head from it holder bringing the pulsing water down closer to your back. he lowered the nozzle lower and lower down.

"and don't even get me started on Brenda she can be such a- such a" your breath hitched as you felt a warm pulsing sensation against your folds. looking down you saw that Shadow had moved the shower head between your legs the pulsing water tickling your folds drawing you into a state of arousal.

"Sorry love just want to make sure you're all clean, please tell me more about Brenda."

"Who?" you asked your mind growing foggy with pleasure

Shadow gave a low hum of approval "Good just what I wanted to hear."

Keeping the showerhead in place he moved one of his hands up to your chest grabbing a breast he gently massaged it bringing a moan to your lips.

your pussy clenched hoping to grab onto something but much to your dismay the water could not satisfy you, not the way that he could.

"Shadow mmm please I need smmore friction"

Shadow enjoyed the way your words slurred when you were getting pleasure, so he obliged removing the showerhead he put it back in it's place the water once again beginning to flow off the two of you.

he reached his hand around you teasing your entrance with the gentle brush of his fingers.

Of course he was teasing you now. you thought to yourself well two can play at that game.

reaching back your hand grabbed hold of his crotch his penis not quite out of it's hiding place yet just his tip poking out of his fur. which was all you needed to bring him to his knees.

swiping your thumb along the end shadow let out a yelp. you giggled as you repeated the action a low growl escaping shadow's lips.

with every small movement you made you coaxed his cock out until it sat heavy in your hand.

"still feel like teasing me love?" you asked playfully.

Shadow pressed a finger against your clit forcing a gasp to escape your lips.

"Always." he responded inserting one finger into you.

You squeezed on his cock forcing a moan to escape his lips.

"that's too bad"

you began slowly stroking his length the two of you moaning in tandem as he pressed his single digit against you he inserted his second and third finger as a plea for you to speed up which you accepted.

Shadow pressed against you walls with an urgent force it seams your actions had motivated him to please you correctly after all. you moaned as his fingers pressed against your sweet spot the pressure beginning to build up in your abdomen

you could tell Shadow was close too a whimper falling from his lips a silent request to let him cum inside you. you let go of his cock just as the tension in your abdomen broke cum mixed with the water dribbled down your leg.

before you could recover shadow turned you around and gently pushed you into the wall behind you knocking down shampoo bottles and soap in the process.

he plunged his lips into yours. His hips bucking against you begging for entrance his hand grabbing your waist promising to keep you steady you lifted you leg up wrapping it around his waist allowing a clear opening for Shadow's cock.

not wasting a second he inserted himself into you thrusting wildly against you screams escaped your throat, you hadn't had time to come down from your orgasm yet and the way Shadow was going at it was bringing you close to the edge once again.

Your fingers clawed against his back clinging to him for balance. Your actions only encouraging him to go faster once again building up the familiar tension in your core.

Your vision blurred as your mind grew foggy. your walls closing around him. fluids spilling out of your pussy as he pushed deeper and deeper into you, his cock creating a sweet pressure between your hips.

In a moment Shadow became all that you knew his cock became your lifeline with each thrust your walls grew tighter, his lips against yours was the only thing you wanted to taste for the rest of your life.

You were ready to snap once again. you called out for your lover wanting his permission.

"Go ahead my love I'm almost done."

You screamed his name as you orgasmed a few more thrusts from him and he spilled into you his cock slipped out with ease as all the fluids dripped out of you.

Shadow held you up as your knees went week too cock drunk to stand or do much of anything else. he cleaned you off and shut down the water.

he carried you to bed not bothering with putting you in your clothes. once you were tucked in he went to get you a snack and some water to help build up your strength again.

"Wait where are you going?" you whined reaching out for him.

"I'm just getting you some supplies to help you build up your strength."

"aww you always take such good care of me"

Shadow smiled at you before kissing you between your ears. "I always will"

[freyito]

hello hello!!! may i order an idia flavored curry rice plz?? blinks cutely) ty!!

✭ pairing(s): idia shroud x gn reader

★ in which: idia is WAY too confident that he can out miku you.

✩ curry rice black forest cake w/ idia shroud!

✦ entry for my 1k follower event, Freyito's Maid Cafe! check out the link to figure out how to send an order!!

✧ a/n: ykw anon. im so glad you changed your mind because this gave me SUCH a banger idea that i couldnt go to sleep cause i was writing it out in my head. teehee :)

🗒 cw: gn reader, ffxiv sneak, just embarrassed idia :3, not proofread

✎ wc: 2.7k

ᴘᴜʀᴇ ᴇᴠɪʟ | ꜰʀᴇʏɪᴛᴏ'ꜱ ᴍᴀɪᴅ ᴄᴀꜰᴇ !

It was late at night, and you had been on call with Idia. He was grinding out materials for some new transmog that had dropped in his game, and cursing the drop rates. You, on the other hand, were grinding out Project Diva Mega Mix for no particular reason. You had just made up your mind that you wanted to full combo some extra songs, and now you were hellbent on doing so. Plus, it provided some nice background music for Idia and his grind sesh.

By now, you had two songs finished and full cleared (albeit, with 97% accuracy), and you were working on your third, Sweet Devil. You already had four failed runs, your hands were starting to cramp a bit, and Idia’s smart remarks weren’t helping you. Not to mention, you always found the mvs distracting. Too much happening in the background while you were trying to focus on the notes.

You slump back in your chair with a huff as you watch the small word ‘safe’ pop up and interrupt your combo. You watch for just a moment as the symbols fly past on the screen, a barrage of ‘miss’es following shortly after. You finally exit the mv, balling your hands into a fist and then stretching out your fingers.

“I thought you were, like, a god at rhythm games,” Idia chides. You can hear the smile through his mic.

“Well sometimes it takes a couple tries,” You sigh, shaking your head. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure it does,” He chuckles. When you look at his stream, he’s finished up running maps and his character is now toiling away by the marketboard. “I bet I could do it.”

You raise your eyebrow, though he can’t see it. “Hm, what’s the stakes?”

“We need stakes?”

“You’re insulting my integrity as a rhythm game player. I want there to be a deal.”

A silence follows your voice, but you can hear him shift back in his chair. “Okay. What do you want to bet, then?”

Hm. You yourself don’t know exactly what you want if you win. Maybe you could get some gil off of him in game, but that didn’t feel like enough. You look around your room, before spotting something rather intriguing. It was a forgotten purchase, a pastel pink maid dress. It was rather cheap material, but still served its function. You were sure if you looked for them, you’d find the rest of the pieces…

“Loser wears a maid dress,” You declare triumphantly. “I got one in my closet.”

“... I, uh, don’t wanna ask why you have that,” He mumbles, “But I guess I accept. It’d be pretty nice to see you in a maid dress, heh…”

“Don’t act like you’ve already won. You haven’t even opened the game yet.”

“Yeah, yeah, just lemme put this up on the marketboard and I’ll get on the game…”

You lean back, content to wait and give your hands a bit of a break. You can’t help but smirk at not only making Idia eat his words, but seeing him in a maid dress would make you… quite happy, to say the least. The light pink would pair well with his hair and– you have to stop yourself there. You’d rather not distract yourself any further, nor allow yourself to get cocky. You can’t get ahead of yourself, or else you risk losing perhaps the most precious award you could ever have. 

“Okay. I’m on. Which song was it again?” Idia finally speaks up. When you look back at his stream, he’s ended it.

“Sweet Devil– Hey, you should stream your screen,” You point out, tabbing back into your game.

“I’m getting to itttt,” He drags the last letter, like it was too much work, as if he had not streamed his games every time you two called.

You watch as the ‘stream has ended’ switches to his screen, scrolling through the songs before landing on sweet devil. He changes difficulties to extreme, then waits for a moment, like he’s expecting you to say something. You decide to mess with him a little bit, staying silent a little longer.

“I’m waiting,” He groans, and you can almost hear his eyes roll. “I know you’re watching. I heard the little viewer noise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You chuckle, “I’m ready whenever you are.”

Idia doesn’t even grace you with a ‘go’, or anything of the sort, simply starting the song, following your words. You scramble to tab back into the game, quickly selecting the song. 

The song and mv start up, and soon after the notes come in. You do your best to focus, to try and block out the MV, the bright pink lights of Miku’s room and Miku herself made it hard to follow the notes, especially with how fast they were. Still, you find your rhythm relatively easily, considering you knew the song and charting by heart. Normally, you’d be super conscious about the progress bar beneath the screen, checking to make sure you were well above the ‘excellent’, marker. However, you were too determined to focus. And unfortunately, that would be too much of a distraction. You don't even focus on if your hits are 'good' or 'excellent'.

The hold notes scare you the most, considering you always end up slipping up on them, somehow. Either that, or you don’t hold them for long enough and panic when you can just press the other buttons on your keyboard. You tell yourself, over and over again, in your mind, that you can just use the other set of keys. You have to. You can’t risk allowing Idia to have any sort of edge on you.

Three minutes feels like five, or even ten. Idia has been far too quiet during this, not even muttering something under his breath. You feel grateful for a moment, if you heard anything on his side, you’d probably mess up. Maybe you could mess him up. Yes. No. Ugh, if you did, you’d probably mess yourself up, too. And if you had messed him up, he’d complain and call for a redo. You would rather never play this song again, to be honest.

Just as your fingers start to tingle– a result of adrenaline, for some reason–, the word ‘success’ comes up. Behind the notes, Miku turns her little devil tail into a spear and throws it as a planet. You do your best not to celebrate too early, still having to go through with the last couple seconds of the song. You were just happy to have nailed the challenge time, more than happy. 

After the last couple of notes, you’re able to lean back and relax. For a moment. When the ‘clear’ screen comes up, you feel your heart jump at the percentage. 101.53%. You look over at Idia’s stream and can’t help but laugh. 99.07%.

“No,” He utters weakly, with an agony in his voice you have never heard before. He doesn’t say anything else.

“Yes,” You feel maniacal, an odd elation spreading through your chest. You don’t even exit the game, hopping out of your chair. “You stay right there.”

You pull the dress from your closet, listening to Idia frantically call for Ortho from your headphones. The rest of what he says is unintelligible, given the distance between you and your headphones as you rummage through drawers to find the rest of the costume. You find the cuffs, stockings, and even a headband with cat ears. It’s a little bent, but you’d fix it on the way.

Hurriedly, you stuffed the costume into a bag, grabbing your phone and turning on the flashlight. Slinging the bag over your shoulder and rushing out of your house. You keep your flashlight pointed at the ground so you don’t trip, running as fast as you can to the Hall of Mirrors. Like it is a high-stakes situation, time is precious. If you can’t make it to Ignihyde’s dorms soon, then you will never see Idia in a maid dress, even if you won the bet.

The minute you reach the Hall of Mirrors, you practically throw yourself through Ignihyde’s mirrors, scrambling through the halls with harsh breaths. Your heavy footsteps echo through the halls as you make your way up the steps and to Idia’s room, clutching the strap of your bag. Ortho is there, in front of Idia’s door, opening it just a crack.

Seeing you, the boy lights up, smiling at you from underneath his mask. “Oh, hey, Idia. They’re here!”

“Nooo!” Idia squeals, and you can what him scrambling from his chair to close the door.

You shove your foot into the crack of the door just as Idia tries to open it. He uses more force than he means to, squeeze your foot slightly. You don’t emote, despite how much it hurts. Which scares Idia. But you don’t care. You won the bet. And he needs to pay up. Ortho stares blankly, trying to figure out what has Idia acting this way, before scolding his brother.

“That’s mean! You shouldn’t try to shut your partner out, especially like that!” 

Idia shrinks back a little. It’s clear that Ortho doesn’t know what has you on such a warpath, and you are quite happy with that. Finally, you smile a little, opening the door with your other hand. 

“Ortho…” Idia murmurs, turning his gaze away from you and his brother. “We’re gonna, uhm, game all night. Just us two. So, uh, you should get some sleep.”

He sounds utterly defeated, and Ortho remains none the wiser as to what you were about to subject poor Idia too.

“Huh? But you called me here?” Ortho tilts his head, raising an eyebrow.

“I-I didn’t mean it– er, It was a mistake,” 

“... Okay! I’ll leave you two be. Have fun!”

And with that, Ortho hovers away, happy to leave his brother in your hands. By then, Idia knows he’s lost. You take a step in, handing him the bag with the dress and accessories in it. You don’t even speak to him, feeling a bit too giddy about your win, and prize.

“Uhm… can you at least stay out there, while I get changed?” His voice is shy, understandably so. 

“If you lock yourself in there, I’ll get Ortho to break it down,” You place your hands on your hips, in an attempt to seem confident.

“He wouldn’t do that.”

He’s right, you were well aware that your threat was kind of empty. But there’s no way you were going to let him get away.

“Then I’ll get those Heartslabyul first years to kick the door down.”

He lets out a small ‘eep’ at this, frowning. “Okay, okay, I won’t lock the door. Fine. You win.”

He doesn’t allow you any time to reply, taking the back and closing the door all too quickly. You can hear him shuffling about and the clothes rustling, and you feel your stomach flip-flop with nerves. You fidget with your hands and turn your back to the door, pretending like you actually didn’t care all that much so that Idia could get dressed faster, like that would work. You cross your arms, tapping your fingers against your biceps while you wait.

After a while, you hear the door crack behind you, and you turn around way too excitedly. He barely peeks through, giving you a look akin to a pleading puppy. He didn’t open the door all the way, insistent that you had to slip in through the crack, in case any one else would look out and see him. He’d rather save himself the embarrassment.

Finally squeezing through the door, he shuts it quickly. You, on the other hand, are greeted with a sight. His entire face is red, the tips of his hair flickering a bright pink as he looks away in embarrassment. The dress is a little short for him, so he clutches to the hem of the skirt and pulls it down a little. The pink worked well with his hair and his skin, just like you thought. It’s cliche, one of the dresses that was copy pasted from all those maid animes and what not. But still, you think it fit well.

“This is so cheap,” Idia complains, tilting his head up. “Okay. I dressed up. Can you go now so I can get back in my pajamas?”

You realize he’s missing something. The cat ears.

“No. No, I’m not leaving until you put the cat ears on.” You state simply, looking around for where they are.

He grimaces, deflating even more. “Please no. I think I might die. Actually, I’m going to die. Right now.”

“I won the bet fair and square, it’s not my fault. Where are they, Idia.” You speak with such a stern voice, it almost scares him. He finally, hesitantly, points to his chair, his grimace deepening as he looks back at you. “Put. Them. On.”

He groans, turning around and grabbing the cat ears. He gives you one last look, begging you to just let him go. Maybe you’re being a little too sadistic, but c’mon, Idia in a maid dress. That’s it. You plan to make the most of it. Slowly, he lifts the headband over his head, then lowers it down. Now you have your own Idia cat maid in front of you. You can’t help but smile, absolutely jubilant to see this poor man wearing such a cute dress.

“Okay. Can you go now, please,” He pleads once more, bringing a hand up to his face.

“Can I at least take a picture?” You hold up your phone.

“N-no! Please, no. I’m already at my lowest point, don’t have to kick me while I’m down…”

“Okay, okay,” You decide to finally allow him some mercy, “I won’t. But… I don’t think this image is ever leaving my head any time soon.”

He sighs and shakes his head, avoiding your gaze. But he doesn’t reply. Well, that won’t do. You decide to come up with a quick excuse to stay.

“Well, I ran all the way here, in the dark, it’d suck if you sent me back,” You try to play it cool, tilting your head a little and looking up through your lashes at him. This earns you a deeper blush.

“Stop it,” He huffs, turning his head. Met with his set up, he realizes you two are technically still on call. And he finds his way out. “Your pc is on, you know.”

“Huh.”

“It’s on. You’re still in call.” He points to his monitor.

Your blind blanks for a minute, before you panic a little. You would like to stay and see if you can get him to stay in the maid dress for a little longer, but at the same time, you’d rather not blow out the power supply of your pc. That thing is too damn expensive. And you love it too much.

“Okay. Bye.” You huff briskly, turning on your heels and waiting for the door open before running back down to the mirror that connected the Ignihyde dorms to the Hall of Mirrors.

Idia yelps as the door slides open fully, stepping back and pressing himself against the wall so no one would see. Like anyone else was up at this time. He listens to you rush down the hallway, before letting out a breath. Once the door is shut all the way, he’s quick to wriggle out of the dress, throwing the cat ears, cuffs, and stockings (which ended up ripping a bit) to the corner of his room.

Almost breaking the zipper, he yanks it down on the back of his dress and throws it alongside the scattered recipes, before staring intently at it. Why couldn’t you have just waited for him to undress and take it back? He didn’t want these god forsaken items here. In his room. That reminded him of you. That’s like the cheesiest romantic thing couples do! And in this fashion, perhaps even cringey! He wants to burn it, so bad. Or throw it out. But what if someone somehow finds it in the trash? And then they link it back to him? That’d be the worst scenario. The absolute worst.

He continues to stare at it for a minute, before reaching for his pajamas that were hanging off the back of his chair. Fine. He’ll leave the stupid costume alone for now. Perhaps it’d come in handy one day. Give you a taste of your own medicine… or something.

© freyito, 2025 | maid cafe event | maid cafe masterlist | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | strawpage | star header by roseschoices , dividers by cafekitsune , headers by yours truly

DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[rebelfell]

look at this stuff, isn’t it neat?

Hey! Who has two thumbs and took an in-depth inventory of all my WIPs? This guuuuuuuuy!

Thought I would put them up, mostly for me, but also in case anybody wants to peruse them and then pressure me into making some headway.

(lmao, good luck with that)

The further down on the list they are, the less recently I've opened them (if that makes sense?) And they’re going under a cut because there’s—jeeeeeesus—36 of them 😅

18+, MDNI for some of the content.

swap - your bff chrissy invites you to hang out with your former hook-up Steve, and her ex-boyfriend Eddie. what could go wrong?

smut blurb, hesitant - eddie wants to try out somnophilia, but he's really anxious and worries it'll be too much.

smut blurb - eddie isn’t letting you go down on him because he's worried he’ll blow his load if he sees you doing it. so you blindfold him.

for your viewing pleasure, vol 2 - you and eddie trying to navigate both your working relationship and your personal relationship; visiting Hawkins for the first time and meeting Wayne, etc.

neighbors au - you and eddie's first friend date, and your first date-date; domestic laundry fluff (pun very much intended)

pollen - exactly what you think it is.

hold your peace in pieces - long since neglected engaged!rockstar!eddie fic

american engine - steve truck smut

missed connections - modern!eddie WCIL companion series.

choose your own adventure - eddie comes home and overhears you having sex with your boyfriend (his roommate) Steve—nothing out of the ordinary, until you moan Eddie's name.

this summer is the apocalypse - eddie attends a faculty party with you, he gets jealous about your past with another professor.

tsita, 2 - eddie and steve in berlin finally hash out the details of your summer (literally).

tsita, 3 - valentine's snow day fluff extravaganza

special delivery part ii - waking up with Eddie the morning after, you guys keep getting interrupted.

striptease - eddie is nervous about going to a strip club for the first time. you show him what to expect.

dad!eddie & bad-at-kids!reader - you meet Eddie at a housewarming party thrown by your bff Nancy and her husband Steve.

argyle & ace!reader - argyle helps you learn how to smoke and you wind up confessing something.

so familiar - immoral reader hooking up with ex!eddie while he's 'with' someone else. sort of…

sick blurb - steve shows up while you're delirious from a cold and accidentally confess you like him.

never have i ever - a drinking game at a party reveals Steve has never been skinny dipping. you try to remedy the situation.

untitled - eddie shares you with steve for the night, so long as he gets to be in charge.

untitled 2 - when picking up weed for your boyfriend, you try to offer eddie an alternative form of payment.

blind date - robin tries to help you with getting over your ex by setting you up on a blind date. but you already know him…biblically.

the boy is mine (sarah's edition) - my entry for carolmunson's writing challenge that is so sweet it makes me wanna throw up.

first kiss - you run into eddie one night he's behind the bar at the Hideout and end up talking about your first kiss ever. Eddie offers a do-over.

ghost!eddie - joint venture with littlexdeaths and andvys that has lost steam, but has never left the back of my mind.

bath - ramble-fic about eddie learning to love baths (with and without you).

frenemies part ii - the morning after your edible confession followed by karaoke night with Robin and Steve hosting.

shelter from the storm pt ii - blowing eddie on your porch in the middle of the storm. (possible steddie if steve shows up trying to take refuge under eddie's roof?)

jealousy - pissing off steve when you smoke up with some guy in the boathouse at a reefer rick party.

coffee - exes to ??? with eddie, songfic based on "coffee" by chappell roan

with the band - harrington!reader secretly joins corroded coffin after eddie hears them singing in the shower.

camp steve - king steve is banished for the summer and finds himself working at the camp you've spent every summer at since you were a kid. him taking your virginity results in you and he having a secret relationship at school in the fall.

gator ii - follow up to cold dry stone where you're on a date that is interrupted by law enforcement. who would have thought?

friends with romance - modern!neighbor!eddie comes up with an arrangement with you where he provides some much needed romance, similar to FWB, except you don't engage physically.

beach - you meet eddie when he tags along on a beach trip with you and one of your friends.

if anything strikes your fancy, drop me a line, I’d love to chat!

love you, mean it! 🌠

[was-that-a-pun]

Fleshin out more background characters in my AU fic for later chapters like I have with Medic and Thomas and a recent cut content video gave me ideas for Scout the boogie bot and Izzy the bobby bearhug

Scout I've decided was an older kid in Playcare and was a close friend with Matthew before he was 'chosen'. They were similar ages, though Scout had been there longer and had lost her parents in a car accident she wasn't part of. It gave her a slightly better idea of what he was going through than most other kids did and tended to play backup to his leader role.

Neither ran into Kevin much just by chance, the little they did see of him he seemed fine to them although Matthew caught some other kids setting him up to get in trouble once and put a stop to it.

After Matthew was taken Izzy arrived, probably younger than Jack when she got there, and instantly clung to Scout as big sister. Scout returned in kind and goes out of her way to care for and dote on her.

Scout though was also 'chosen' a little more than a year after Matthew and Kevin were, Izzy had a hard time in Playcare for the few months before she was as 'chosen' as well because she couldn't connect with anyone else the same way.

Scout and Izzy are dumped into the workyard/general population at the same time and Izzy does not handle things well. Scout would know that sobbing anywhere and scrambles to comfort her and convince her of who she is and that Izzy isn't alone. Doey overhears and oh shit this is one of my friends.

They all end up in trouble/punished because Izzy can't calm down enough to work, Scout wont leave her side, and Doey wont let the guards touch either one of them. But afterwards it makes things a little easier because Matthew knows he can trust scout, which means Jack and Kevin learn to trust her and she becomes one of the main people he talk to about the whole confusing experience of being three kids turned into one.

Cut content lines under the readmore that inspired me

Scout: Izzy, have you done what I asked you to? Gathered all your things?

Izzy: Oh, yeah! I’ve got my journal and my crayons and my dollys and my-

Scout: Good. Good I just wanted to make sure

Izzy: You. Y-you sound sad -

Scout: No! No. Just thinking…

Izzy: Thinking about what?

Scout: About everything to come, about our part in it.

Izzy: Oh...okay. Are we still gonna play our game later? Y-you promised we would-

Scout: *chuckles* I remember kiddo, and a good scout knows to keep her promises.

Izzy: Yes!

Scout: But finish up your tasks first please! Then my time is all yours.

Izzy: Okay! I’ll get them done quick! Super quick! You wont even see me doing them!

Scout: That better mean they’re actually getting done though *sigh*

[callmemonster68]

SUNOO - Beyond Appearances ( smut )

You always thought Sunoo was just your gay friend—sweet, trustworthy, harmless. But after a little accident in the bathroom, he started acting different...

Pairing: Sunoo X FemReader (Masterlist)

Genre: Smut

Warning: Contains explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive, penetration, explicit language, climax, sex, swearing, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, compliments, rough sex, touching bruises

Y/N and Sunoo have always been inseparable. He was that friend who broke into your house without warning, stole food from your fridge and threw himself into your bed without ceremony. Your conversations ranged from gossip about each other to spicy details about your crushes – well, your crushes, since Sunoo never seemed very interested in anyone.

Y/N: Don't you have a type? (he asked, throwing a grape in his mouth while the two watched a reality show)

Sunoo: Oh, I don't know. Not a guy interests me that much. (he responded with a shrug, without even taking his eyes off the screen)

For Y/N, this only confirmed what she always knew: Sunoo was gay. After all, he loved skincare, danced to TikTok videos better than anyone and knew how to combine colors like no one else. And, of course, he had never shown interest in any girl.

You were so intimate that he would enter the bathroom while you were brushing your teeth, going through your clothes to help you choose a look and even giving you his opinion on your new lingerie.

Sunoo: This one screams "eat me now" (he said it once, holding up a lacy red ensemble)

Y/N: Exactly what I want it to scream. (replied with a mischievous smile)

They both laughed, as always. No tension, no ulterior motives. Because for Y/N, Sunoo was safe.

Until one day, something changed.

It was a day like any other. Y/N had just gotten out of the shower, the towel stuck to her body as she looked in the mirror, playing with her damp strands.

That's when Sunoo entered the bathroom without warning. As he always did.

Sunoo: Hey, did you see my…

The towel slipped off the instant the door closed behind him.

Time seemed to stop. Y/N stood completely naked in front of him.

Sunoo froze. His wide-eyed gaze swept over her body in an involuntary reflex before he forced himself to look away, turning around with such haste that he banged his elbow on the door.

Sunoo: M-my God! (voice was shaky, breathing was uneven)

Y/N laughed, pulling the towel back leisurely, completely comfortable.

Y/N: Oh, Sunoo, there's no need to despair (he joked) That doesn't even interest you.

Silence.

She expected him to respond with a mocking comment, something like "of course not, darling" or "please, I've seen better bodies." But he didn't say anything.

Y/N frowned.

Y/N: Sunoo?

He was still on his back, his shoulders tense, his breathing a little too heavy. When he finally turned to face her, there was something different in his dark eyes.

Something that has never been there before.

The bathroom incident should have been just that: an accident. But after that day, Sunoo started acting... strange.

Nothing blatant, nothing too obvious. But Y/N knew him too well not to notice.

Before, he plopped down on the sofa next to her without ceremony. Now, there was a subtle hesitation before sitting down, as if he was too aware of the closeness between the two.

Before, he helped her choose clothes without blinking. Now I avoided looking at her for too long when she asked, "Is that dress too short?"

Before, he joked about his encounters, his experiences, his adventures. Now he was silent when she talked about other guys.

But it was when Y/N started to tease him that the reactions became more interesting.

One night, while packing her clothes to go out, she changed into a skintight dress and turned to him with a mischievous smile.

Y/N: And then? Too vulgar? (he asked, turning on his heel)

It was an old game. Sunoo always gave a sharp comment, sometimes exaggerated, sometimes dramatic.

But this time, instead of rolling his eyes and joking, he blinked slowly, as if he was having a thought he shouldn't have.

Sunoo: It's… beautiful.

The tone of voice was not mocking. It was low. Serious. As if he had forgotten for a second that he was "just a friend."

Y/N raised her eyebrow, crossing her arms.

Y/N: Just pretty?

He licked his lips, looked away, and for a split second he looked uncomfortable.

Sunoo: What do you want me to say? (he retorted) That you look hot?

It was an ironic comment, but the problem wasn't what he said. That's the way he said it.

As if he was thinking about it.

The silence that followed was longer than it should have been.

Sunoo cleared his throat and stood up too quickly.

Sunoo: I'll get some water (he said, disappearing from the room before she could question anything else)

Y/N stood there, feeling the energy in the air.

Something was different.

And she wanted to know exactly what it was.

Y/N noticed the changes in Sunoo, but in her head, there was only one explanation: he must be going through something. Maybe he was confused, maybe he was dealing with insecurities, or maybe… he was discovering himself in a way that she didn't yet understand.

But that didn't mean she wasn't going to have some fun.

So he started testing.

Nothing too obvious. Just little teases.

Like when they were watching a movie together, and she decided to lie on his lap instead of the couch. Normally, Sunoo would absentmindedly run his fingers through her hair, comfortable in their intimacy. But this time, he was tense. Hands still, rigid at his sides.

Y/N: You're feeling strangely stuck today. (he joked, looking up)

Sunoo forced a laugh.

Sunoo: I'm just tired.

Liar.

And she started noticing more signs.

The next day, Y/N wore a tight crop top and short shorts while putting on makeup. Sunoo was lying on her bed, on his cell phone, as usual.

Or at least that's what she thought.

When she turned to pick up some lipstick, she caught him looking at the reflection in the mirror.

It was fast. But it was enough.

She smiled, having fun.

Y/N: Help me choose the color? Red or nude?

Sunoo looked away too quickly, picking up the first lipstick without even looking.

Sunoo: Whatever.

Y/N to them.

Y/N: Since when do you have no opinion on makeup?

He pursed his lips.

Sunoo: Since you started interrogating me for everything.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, moving closer and crossing her arms.

Y/N: Are you hiding something from me?

Sunoo: For God's sake, Y/N.

She laughed, tossing the lipstick aside and turning back to the mirror.

She still thought he was gay.

She just didn't realize that he was making everything more and more difficult for him.

Sunoo was acting strange.

Not the way he used to, when he just hesitated or was uncomfortable with some situations. Now, he was actually avoiding Y/N.

The answers were short. Messages took longer to be responded to. When she asked him out, he made excuses.

And Y/N started to feel uncomfortable.

On Wednesday night, she was sitting at a bar, tapping the end of her straw against her glass as she vented to Jake, the only mutual friend they had.

Y/N: He's avoiding me. (she mumbled, throwing her head back)

Jake arched his eyebrow.

Jake: Are you sure?

Y/N: Yes! Before, was acting strange. Now he practically runs away from me!

Jake took a sip of his beer and frowned.

Jake: Did you do something?

Y/N: No! I just... (she stopped, biting her lip) Okay, I kind of started testing him.

Jake: Test?

Y/N: Yes. Like… he was all weird after that day in the bathroom.

Jake: What day in the bathroom?

Y/N sighed and told everything. About how Sunoo had seen her naked by accident, how he reacted differently, and how he had since seemed uncomfortable around her.

Y/N: But he's gay, so it doesn't make sense! (she concluded, exasperated)

Jake was silent for a moment, just looking at her.

And then he asked, calmly:

Jake: Y/N… did he ever say he was gay?

She blinked.

Y/N: What?

Jake: Did he ever tell you that? Or did you just… assume?

She opened her mouth to respond, but no response came.

Because, for the first time, doubt arose.

Y/N always assumed Sunoo was gay. For the cute clothes, for the sharp personality, for the extravagant manner. He never talked about liking women, so she just concluded that he didn't.

But…

She never asked.

Jake laughed softly when he saw her expression change.

Jake: Guess you have some conversations to have, huh?

Y/N spent the next two days mulling over the conversation with Jake.

She tried to recall a time when Sunoo had confirmed that he was gay. Some conversation, some sentence, anything. But all he found were his own conclusions.

And now he was running away from her.

If before she just wanted to tease him for fun, now it was a test by fire.

And she wanted answers.

So, that Friday, she decided to take action.

Sunoo was sitting alone in the college library, concentrating on his notebook, as if he was trying to become invisible. It was ridiculous.

Y/N approached silently, sliding into the chair next to him as if nothing was happening.

Y/N: Hi, missing (he hummed, resting his chin in his hand)

Sunoo tensed his shoulders, but didn't look at her.

Sunoo: Hi.

The coldness in his voice only made Y/N smile even more.

Y/N: Are you avoiding me?

Sunoo: No.

She laughed.

Y/N: So that means if I do this...(she ran her fingers down his arm, very slowly, as if she were distracted) You won't freak out?

Sunoo froze.

And that's when she realized.

He didn't move away.

But he didn't look at her either.

Interesting.

Y/N: It's getting hot in here, right? (she commented innocently, pulling her own coat and leaving her shoulders exposed. Then, she leaned closer, right next to his ear) Or is it just me?

Sunoo took a deep breath.

Sunoo: Y/N…

Y/N: What happened? (she whispered, making her voice purposefully sweet)

He clenched his fists.

Sunoo: You need to stop.

She pulled away a little, blinking her eyes with false innocence.

Y/N: Stop what? We've always been like this, Sunoo. You always let me touch you. Never bothered.

Sunoo finally looked at her.

And it was there, in that dark look filled with something that Y/N still didn't fully understand, that she felt like maybe she was playing with fire.

But did that make her want to stop?

Not at all.

Y/N: Come to my house for dinner today (suggested casually, leaning over to pick up her cell phone on the table, but purposely leaving her cleavage visible for a second longer)

Sunoo looked away so quickly he almost broke his neck.

Sunoo: I can't (he muttered, closing the notebook suddenly)

She laughed, tossing her hair back.

Y/N: Oh, yes you can. You always can. It's going to look weird if you start saying no now.

Sunoo clenched his jaw.

Y/N noticed.

She also noticed when he sighed in defeat and nodded, somewhat reluctantly.

Sunoo: It's OK.

That's how, a few hours later, they were in her apartment. As they have always been so many times before.

But nothing was the same as before.

Sunoo knew this. Y/N knew that.

She prepared a simple dinner as usual. But as he stirred the food in the pan, he made sure to do everything at the slowest pace possible, his hip movements exaggeratedly lazy, knowing that Sunoo was there, sitting at the counter, watching.

He didn't speak. He just stood there, touching his own glass, without looking at her directly.

Y/N smiled to herself.

After dinner, they plopped down on the couch to watch a movie, like they always did. But now she wanted to test it a little more.

So, instead of sitting in the opposite corner like Sunoo clearly wanted, Y/N lay down on the couch, with her head resting on his lap.

It was there that she felt it.

Sunoo's breathing became slower, almost heavy.

He was tense again.

Y/N closed her eyes and sighed.

Y/N: I love that we have this freedom (mumbled) It's so good to have a friend who will never look at me any other way.

Sunoo swallowed.

She noticed.

And smiled.

Y/N: Like, I can lay on your lap like this and it will never mean anything. (she continued, stretching a little more, feeling his body lock under her)

Nothing. He didn't say anything.

She bit her lip.

Y/N: That's why I always knew you were gay (said, without filter) You never looked at me differently. It was never dull. You never bothered with me around.

Now he moved.

Sunoo slid a little on the couch, as if trying to create a distance that simply didn't exist.

Sunoo: I'm going to get water (he said suddenly, pushing her away with a sudden movement and practically fleeing to the kitchen)

Y/N laughed softly.

She was sure now.

And she wasn't going to stop until he broke it completely.

Sunoo didn't return to the sofa.

After getting the water, he stayed in the kitchen for too long, leaning against the sink, with his back to the living room, as if he needed to catch his breath.

Y/N took advantage.

She stood up silently, walking over to him.

Y/N: Sunoo...(called softly, stopping right behind him)

He remained motionless.

She smiled.

Y/N: What happened? (she teased, dragging her fingers down his spine, lightly, only to see his body stiffen) Why are you so nervous lately?

Sunoo: I'm not nervous.

Y/N: No? So look at me.

Silence.

Sunoo didn't turn around.

And Y/N took advantage of that.

She moved even closer, pressing her body to his, her arms slipping around his waist as if it were something innocent.

Y/N: You look weird, you know that? (she whispered close to his ear) Before, you didn't care about anything I did. Now it seems like he can barely stand near me.

She felt him hold his breath.

Y/N: Why are you running away?

Nothing.

Sunoo looked like a statue, holding onto the counter as if his life depended on it.

Y/N smiled against his skin and raised her hands a little higher, running her fingers over the lower part of her belly.

Y/N: That doesn't interest you, remember? (she whispered, cruelly reminding him of what she had said that day in the bathroom)

And that's when it happened.

Too fast.

Too brutal.

Sunoo suddenly turned around, catching her by surprise, holding her by the wrists and pinning her against the kitchen counter.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat.

His eyes were different.

Dark.

Sunoo: Stop (he growled, but his voice sounded anything but firm)

Y/N looked at him, at his heavy breathing, at the grip on his wrists.

And then she smiled, mischievously.

Y/N: Or what?

Sunoo closed his eyes tightly, as if he was fighting an internal war.

Y/N licked her lips.

She didn't know if he would finally give in or if he would run again.

But now, anyway…

She knew he wanted it.

Sunoo was still holding her wrists. Strong but hesitant.

He was breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on hers as if trying to find a way out.

Y/N noticed this.

And he decided he wouldn't let him get away.

Y/N: What happened? (she whispered, her voice oozing venom and sweetness at the same time)

Sunoo didn't respond.

Then she leaned in a little more, touching her nose to his chin, feeling his warm breath against her skin.

Y/N: You're holding me like you're going to do something (he continued, his eyes shining with provocation) But I know you won't.

His grip faltered for a second.

And that's when Y/N decided to end him once and for all.

She moved her hips slightly, the touch almost imperceptible, but enough for him to feel it.

Sunoo held her breath.

She smiled.

Y/N: None of that interests you, right?

It was the last straw.

In an instant, he let go of her wrists.

In the next second, he grabbed her waist and pushed her sharply, placing her against the kitchen counter.

Y/N barely had time to react.

Sunoo moved closer to her even closer, his fingers digging into her skin, and when he looked at her this time, there was no more hesitation.

Sunoo: Shut up.

His voice sounded hoarser than ever, as if he had ripped something inside him.

Y/N's eyes lit up.

She licked her lips, sliding her hands slowly down his chest, feeling every tense muscle beneath her fingers.

Y/N: Are you going to shut me up? (provoked, defiant)

Sunoo took a deep breath, holding her face with both hands.

Y/N felt his breath tremble against her mouth.

And then…

He gave in.

The kiss was fierce.

Hunger contained. Anger. Lust. Everything mixed into a burning contact.

Y/N grabbed his hair, pulling hard, and that's how it felt: the shiver running through Sunoo's body, the muffled moan against his lips, the way he gave himself as if he were hungry.

He was lost.

And she finally got what she wanted.

But now…

Now, she wanted more.

The kiss was still burning on Y/N's lips when Sunoo pulled away abruptly, her eyes wide as if she had just committed a crime.

Sunoo: Shit... (he whispered, putting a hand to his mouth, as if to erase what just happened)

Y/N watched as he took a step back.

And I knew right away that he was going to run away.

But this time, she wasn't going to let him.

Before he could move any further, Y/N grabbed his wrist and pulled him back closer, forcing him to face her.

Y/N: Where do you think you're going? (he asked, his voice calm but sharp)

Sunoo swallowed hard, looking away.

Sunoo: That was a mistake… (mumbled)

Y/N laughed, sarcastically.

Y/N: A mistake? So tell me why you're shaking.

He didn't respond.

She tightened her grip on his wrist.

Y/N: Answer me, Sunoo.

He closed his eyes tightly, his shoulders tensed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Sunoo: I don't... I can't do this to you.

Y/N: Do what? Want me?

He clenched his jaw.

Y/N: Don't you want me?

Silence.

Sunoo didn't deny it.

And Y/N noticed.

She let out a low laugh, pulling him even closer, so close that she felt his breath hitch against her face.

Y/N: So tell me, Sunoo… Why did you let me believe all this time that you were gay?

He remained motionless.

His dark eyes, full of guilt and something else he was trying to hide.

Y/N: Say.

He closed his hands into fists.

Sunoo: Because it was easier that way.

Y/N frowned.

Y/N: What do you mean?

Sunoo took a deep breath, her lips trembling before finally releasing the words:

Sunoo: Because I always wanted you. From the beginning.

Y/N felt her heart race.

But Sunoo didn't stop.

Sunoo: But I knew I would never have a chance. You always saw me as your gay friend, your harmless best friend. If I tried anything, you would push me away. So I let you believe that.

The confession fell heavily between the two.

Sunoo looked exhausted, as if he had just been stripped of a secret that had been consuming him for years.

Y/N bit her lip, feeling a wave of excitement and adrenaline course through her body.

Y/N: And now? (she whispered)

Sunoo looked up.

His eyes were wild, but still filled with fear.

Sunoo: Now... (he murmured, his voice hoarse) I can't stop anymore.

Y/N sorriu.

Y/N: Then don't stop.

Sunoo was completely still.

The chest rising and falling quickly, the mouth half-open, the eyes still carrying that internal conflict.

But Y/N didn't want any more conflict.

She wanted him to give in.

She wanted him to beg.

She wanted him to take her without thinking.

And to do that, I needed to push him until there was nothing left but pure desire.

Y/N: You can't stop anymore, can you? (she whispered, her fingers sliding down his chest, feeling the tension pulsing under his skin)

Sunoo didn't respond.

He just swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on her as if he already knew where this was going, but was still trying to fight it.

She smiled.

Slowly, she ran her hands over his shoulders and up to his neck, her fingers lightly playing with the strands of hair on the back of his neck.

Y/N: So don't stop, Sunoo...

He held his breath.

Y/N leaned in more, placing her lips on his jaw, feeling the tremor that ran through her body at the same moment.

Y/N: You've wanted me for so long... (she murmured against his skin, leaving slow kisses along his neck) Why are you still hesitating?

Sunoo's hands went to his waist, squeezing tightly, but he remained still, as if he needed one last push.

Y/N smiled against his skin.

Y/N: Or do you want me to beg?

And then, she slid her leg between his, pressing her body against him, feeling the undeniable proof that he wanted her.

Sunoo let out a muffled moan, his fingers digging deeper into your waist.

Y/N looked up and met his eyes.

They were different.

There was no more hesitation.

Just hungry.

And that's when he finally broke.

In an instant, he grabbed her face and kissed her again, but this time, there was no retreat.

The kiss was wild.

Desperate.

His fingers tightened around her body, pulling her closer, as if he wanted to feel every inch of her pressed against his.

Y/N smiled against his lips.

She won.

And now, Sunoo was completely hers.

Sunoo kissed her as if he were hungry, as if every second he spent holding back now needed to be made up for.

His fingers explored her body without hesitation, and Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine when she realized how strong and firm he held her.

She smiled against his lips, sliding her hands down his chest, pushing him back slightly.

Y/N: Calm down, Sunoo… (she murmured, provocatively, her eyes shining) I thought you were more… sweet.

Sunoo stood still for a second, breathing heavily.

Then he tilted his head, watching her with something different in his eyes.

Something dangerous.

Sunoo: Sweet? (he repeated, a slow, dark smile appearing on his lips)

Y/N felt butterflies in her stomach.

Before she could react, Sunoo grabbed her waist and pulled her tightly, putting their bodies together again.

Sunoo: You spent so long thinking I was safe, harmless... (he whispered, his lips brushing the skin of her neck) But do you know what happens when someone holds back their desire for too long?

He lightly bit the sensitive spot below her ear, making her body shudder.

Sunoo: It explodes.

Y/N barely had time to process the words before she was forcefully spun around and pressed against the wall.

Sunoo held your wrists above your head, his breath hot against your skin.

Sunoo: You teased me for so long, challenged me, tested me... (he laughed quietly, the sound hoarse and sinful) Now you'll have to deal with the consequences.

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but any words died when she felt his teeth dig lightly into her skin, followed by his hot tongue sliding in, soothing the burning.

She gasped, feeling her entire body throb.

Sunoo was different.

He wasn't just her best friend anymore.

He was a man who had been restrained for too long.

And now, finally released, he seemed determined to make her pay for every provocation.

Y/N wanted to test her limits one last time.

Y/N: What if I don't want to deal with the consequences? (she whispered, a defiant smile on her lips)

Sunoo looked up, eyes burning into hers.

He tilted his head, his smile widening.

Sunoo: Oh, you will.

And then, he took her completely.

Sunoo looked at Y/N as if her teasing had ignited something deep within him. There was no longer any hesitation in his eyes. There was no more retreat. Just an insatiable hunger that grew by the second.

In one swift movement, he grabbed the back of her neck, his firm fingers pressing into her skin, and pressed his mouth to hers with a fierce urgency. The kiss was rough, with no room for softness, no chance for resistance. His tongue invaded your mouth with force, as if he was tasting something that should have been his all along.

Y/N tried to maintain control, tried to reverse the situation and provoke him again, but Sunoo didn't give her space. He pressed her against the wall, his firm body pressed against hers, letting her feel every inch of his response to the desire that consumed her.

Sunoo: You wanted to play with me this whole time, didn't you? (he whispered against her lips, his breathing hot and heavy) Now you're going to have to deal with what you've awakened.

Before she could respond, she felt his hands running down her body, without hesitation, without doubt. He held her waist tightly, pulling her closer, making a point of showing that there was no more room for escape. Y/N gasped, feeling her skin crawl under his touch, her mind trying to process what was happening.

Sunoo bit her lower lip before pulling it away slightly and looking at her with a smile filled with something dark.

Sunoo: Still think I'm the same? (he asked, his voice hoarse and low, sending shivers through her body)

Y/N didn't respond. I couldn't. His body was already reacting before he could even form any coherent thoughts.

Sunoo took that as an answer. His lips began to explore her neck, his tongue tracing a warm path to her collarbone. When he sucked on a sensitive spot there, she couldn't contain the low moan that escaped her lips.

He smiled against her skin.

Sunoo: That's it (mumbled) I want to hear more.

His fingers slowly descended, playing with the fabric of her clothes, as if he was testing the limits of her patience. But Y/N knew he wasn't joking. He was in control now.

And her?

She was about to lose hers completely.

Sunoo raised his face, his eyes fixed on hers, waiting for any sign of hesitation. But all he found was pure, uninhibited desire.

Sunoo: Good girl. (he whispered before finally leading them to a path of no return)

With a quick movement, he lifted her and sat her on the kitchen counter, her eyes dark and full of indecent promises. Y/N felt her heart race even more when Sunoo knelt in front of her, holding her thighs and spreading them firmly.

Sunoo: Now, I want to hear you even more (he murmured, his voice low and full of desire)

Without looking away, he pressed his lips against her exposed skin, trailing hot, wet kisses down her thigh until he finally reached her pulsing center. The first touch of his tongue made Y/N arch her back, a broken moan escaping her throat.

Sunoo smiled against his skin, pleased.

Sunoo: That… (he teased) I want your every sound for myself.

And then, without mercy, he took her completely into his mouth, making Y/N hold on to the edge of the counter, her eyes closed, as the intense pleasure consumed her.

When she finally gasped his name in pleading, Sunoo stood up, her eyes burning with lust. He held her waist tightly, turning her and leaning her slightly onto the counter.

Sunoo: You tortured me by telling you about other guys fucking you (he growled, his breathing heavy against your ear) But I'm going to fuck you so good that you'll never crave any other dick than mine again.

Before she could respond, he entered her at once, eliciting a loud moan from her lips. The shock of pleasure made her hold tight to the edge of the counter, her body already surrendered to the intense way he was taking her.

Sunoo held her waist firmly, guiding her movements without any hesitation. Each thrust was raw and deep and possessive, each thrust making it clear that he was leaving his mark on her.

He leaned over her, biting her shoulder and whispering, breathlessly:

Sunoo: I will never again let you doubt what I am capable of doing to you.

Y/N just lost herself completely in the overwhelming pleasure, knowing that after that night, nothing between them would ever be the same.

Sunoo: Look at you (he growled, his fingers squeezing her waist tightly, pulling her against him with each thrust) All wet for me... You like it like that, don't you? Being fucked by me like that?

Y/N could barely formulate a coherent response, only broken moans leaving her lips as pleasure took over every fiber of her body. But Sunoo wasn't satisfied yet.

He slid one of his hands down her body, down to her most sensitive spot, pressing with his thumb as he continued to thrust into her deeply.

Sunoo: I want to see you cum for me (he ordered, his voice full of lust) I want to feel you trembling on my dick while I fuck you so hard that you'll never be able to think about another guy other than me again.

And that's exactly what happened.

Y/N arched her back, a loud moan escaping her lips as her entire body contracted around him, pleasure exploding in overwhelming waves. Sunoo grunted as he felt her response, his own control crumbling as he buried himself into her one last time, panting, overcome with ecstasy.

They lay there, breathing heavily, their bodies still pressed together, their skin hot and damp. Sunoo slid his lips over her shoulder, leaving a possessive kiss before whispering against her skin:

Sunoo: I warned you that I would never let you see me the same way again.

Y/N smiled, still catching her breath, and turned her head to face him, her eyes shining with desire and satisfaction.

Y/N: And I promised myself I would tease you until you lost control.

Sunoo laughed, biting her bottom lip before pulling her into another hot kiss.

Sunoo: Then I hope you're ready to bear the consequences of this.

And he wasn't kidding.

Sunoo picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, throwing her onto the bed effortlessly. The wild gleam in his eyes made it clear that the night was far from over.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[hanasnx]

“ FUCKIN’ ALL THE TIME IS WRONG WHEN YOU’RE NOT MINE, BABY ” — ransom drysdale.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem readerノsexual content: p in vノunderage alcohol consumption mentionノtoxic relationshipノwas originally a self-insert ramble that i edited to 2nd pov mb if there r any remaining mistakes.

You’re always referred to as “like family” at these luxurious Drysdale gatherings you’re invited to over the years. You know RANSOM DRYSDALE is a trust fund brat with an ego but that doesn’t stop you from getting all hot when he’s giving you the eye during a family game night. You get on each other a little too much, there’s too much verbal teasing and taunting all in the name of friendly competition. It’s not game night for long, you both take up all the space in the room and soon everybody’s pushed out while they’re side-eyeing each other.

Every time you’re invited up you have to remind yourself he’s a piece of shit, part of a family you want nothing to do with—and yet here you are, hoping he’s coming to this one too. You let him talk you up and ask me what you’ve been up to. When he gets braver he dares lingering touches and bumps of the shoulder. He offers you a beer when you’re still technically underage for it, but he says, “C’mon. it’s inside the house.” with a little shrug. “Live a little.” You get lost in his eyes for a second.

It gets so bad that Meg knows he’s moving in on you, playing the “long game” because he knows you’re never gonna get over him. He’s toying with you, yanking your chain. She tells him he’s disgusting, the usual, and he tells her to die a virgin elsewhere, the usual. At one point the family catches you and him outside through the window where you’re talking and laughing… and he’s twirling you in a lazy casual dance. His dad, Richard, opens the door to the back porch to interrupt you, telling his Ransom to come inside and have a drink with his old man. Ransom glances over his shoulder at you to catch you biting your lip.

You just grew up around each other, saw each other every so often, but nothing really happens for most of it. Walt accuses him—just to get under his parents’ skin—of eye-fucking you every time you see each other, making everybody uncomfortable, they’ve gotta stop inviting you to things Ransom is going to. Peaceful and loving Jodi is so quick to object, “They just like each other! There’s nothing wrong with that… We all remember young love? Don’t we?” she laments loftily. Meanwhile “young love” is backshots in the backseat of his Beemer before you reenter the party.

It hardly ends there, but now you don’t need an excuse like a Drysdale affair to get together. The car was good place to get acquainted, but now you’re at his place. It’s a little more official—but it feels less official when he does you on every surface there. That cash his wealthy family gave him is thrown in the fire every time you two push a lamp off a nightstand or a centerpiece off a counter. Your reckless love-making causes vases to crash to the floor and curtains to be pulled down. He jokes, “I’m always looking to renovate.” while the memory of his dick bullying your insides five minutes ago is still ebbing and flowing in your memory.

“You know, I always thought you were cute.” he tells you in that husky voice that gets you weak in the knees, the breathless quality to it reminds you just how much he likes talking while he’s taking another tour up in your guts. “Little shy for my tastes, but cute.”

He’s baiting you, and the heel of your hand bangs against the meat of his rotator cuff, then your claws attach to it, internalizing the sharpness of the new angle when he shifts his hips a degree. “Oh, you like that, huh? Wanna know what else I thought?” he muses, and the crease between your brow deepens. The wet smack where your bodies conjoin gets a decibel louder while he quickens the pace, his hips bucking in his own anticipation to taunt you. Your legs suspended in air bob from the interaction, and you throw your head back to sink into the pillows. “You caught me off guard. That smile—mmm—that smile. Stopped me right in my tracks.” He blows a puff of air through his lips. “Whoo, I remember the first time I laid eyes on you from the back too.” He whistles. Now that earns him a real smack.

He snickers while you whine scoldingly, “Rans!”

“Perky little ass, knew I wanted it in my hands.” For emphasis, the palms under your backside to pick you up into his movements now squeeze. Your arch your back on instinct, as if trying to raise yourself out of his grip. It’s not possible while your legs are up in the air like a slut, taking what he’s giving to you.

Grinning, delighted, he watches you make a show of reluctantly hearing him, yet your hole’s getting slicker by the second. “Didn’t take you for a vain little thing, look at you. You’re getting all hot over this, I love it.”

[oil-rigging]

What’s that? You think this emotional content is only going to extend to Bob and Helmut?

Spoilers for Psychonauts 2 under the cut.

First of all, upon getting to the end of Cruller’s Correspondence - “Nothin’ important, really. Just that I loved her” - I felt my heart re-shatter on impact, exactly the manner in which it shattered the first time I played this game.

Ford is SUCH a tragic character that I feel it needs no explanation as to why he’s one of my favorites. His motif of something I like to refer to as ‘shattered and scattered’ is a strong one that follows him throughout the entirety of the game.

The choice to represent his mind as a mirror is a good one. They had many options here, of broken things that could hurt you physically. A plate, for example, that could cut you if you dropped it. Or a vase. The choice of the mirror is clever.

Of course, there’s the theme of self reflection, but specifically firm self reflection. It could have been a murky pond, to represent his lack of clarity on himself and his memories. And his relationship with Lucy, the state of the water indicating foggy memories from both sides. But no, it’s a mirror, because this is more than the Maligula issue, and this is not a choice that Ford is making.

The idea of holding up a mirror to yourself, mentally, is something that a lot of people find intimidating. To analyze your thoughts and actions, usually under the circumstances of trying to figure out whether or not you’re doing ‘good things’ for the ‘right reasons’.

Ford’s mission here, upon holding a mirror up to himself, is to ask ‘who am I?’, which is, in my opinion, infinitely more intimidating than trying to figure out whether or not you have the right mindset about something. Piecing together the mirror of yourself is bound to get you cut on some metaphorical glass.

Identity death is a hard hitter, man.

I’m sure I have more to say about this— like how Ford appears in a lot of peoples’ minds, and how he’s always some shade of green (which is, ironically, a color representing balance, something which Ford kept around the original Six (Seven) by being a leader in their explorations into the unknown of the human brain, keeping his ideas in constant development and circulation, and kept around the Motherlobe (post-shatter) by doing menial tasks that no one else would really want to do.

However, I am in my 8AM and my professor has called on me twice as of right now.

[cybrasigilism]

A Little Caught Up (Park Min-su/Player 125 X F! Reader DRABBLE)

warnings: smut | not proofread | lowercase intended | rough dom! reader | bondage | degradation | overstimulation | crying | piv | f! reader | mommy kink | outside the games | this is my interpretation of this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own

character: park min-su (player 125)

A/N: THANK YOU @gongyoosgf FOR THIS IDEA OMG, needed min-su tied up YESTERDAY (jokes i swear), but in all seriousness i hope you guys enjoy!

MDNI! 18+ content beneath the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

“p..p—lease mommy, i can’t take it..”

min-su’s pathetic whines only egged you on while you rode him with more aggression than you’d ever done in the past. he was tied up, completely at your mercy as you fucked him through another orgasm. “oh? y- can’t take it?” you echoed, grabbing hold of his face. “that’s rich, considering you were practically begging me to do this before— if you’re gonna be a slut, don’t be pathetic.” his head fell backwards, overwhelmed from the pleasure as you began to grind down onto him; a pornographic moan leaving his lips in response.

you had to admit, seeing min-su this fucked out beneath you was such a fucking turn on. each time your ends met you dug your nails into him a little bit harder, which in turn made him cry out. you weren’t going to stop though, no way. tears were streaming down his face but you knew he loved this— he loved that his wrists were bound away from him, that he couldn’t touch you or hold you back from going buck wild on his cock. there was no need to convince him to say or do anything because you had this boy in the palm of your hand, and you definitely took advantage of this.

“ are ya’ feelin’ good, sweetie?” you groaned, pressing your palms down on his chest as though to steady yourself before going back to riding him. he looked up at you through half-lidded eyes, pupils totally blown. “m-making me f—eel s’ good, mommy.” fuck, you felt yourself tighten around him even more each time he called you that. before min-su, you never would have imagined yourself to enjoy being called mommy, but the way he said it made your stomach do backflips. you wanted to praise him for being so obedient, but he already knew how good he made you feel, so you wanted to try something different.

“you better be, might as well be working overtime to fuck you this good.” you snarled, your speed and rhythm only increasing. “who else can make you feel this good? who else would want to make you feel this good?”

“ju-ust you, oh god— fuck me mommy..” you could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer, and neither would you at this rate. you could feel him tremble beneath you even with all the commotion you were causing. but he asked for you to be rough with him this time, and you were stopping for no one.

══════════════════

thanks for reading! this one’s been sitting in the drafts for an embarrassing amount of time, but i’m in good spirits and wanted to produce some content! i’ll try to work through some requests :)

as usual, any constructive criticism/advice on how to improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a fantastic day/night lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @strangelife122 @agornotsworld @luvlyfandoms @putrescentpoet

[madam-whim]

In all honesty, I think you're gonna have to make up any and all liturgy you might need. Create stuff from thin air to your heart's content.

Because in none of the games (including ESO) have I ever seen the clergy do much at all in that regard. They seem to mainly be there to distribute blessings and healing, and to perhaps provide services related to their respective god (i.e. marriage ceremonies for Mara, funeral rites for Arkay...). We know from Skyrim that there seem to be certain ritualized actions and words attached to these specific events, so I guess you could say at attempt at establishing some liturgy lore was made, but all in all, it seems to me that the priests of Tamriel perform certain rites when there is a demand for them, but that there is no weekly church service people would attend.

That said, I just think it's so funny that Oblivion especially makes us feel like there should be more liturgy, because it all looks so over the top catholic - with the cathedrals with their stained glass windows that very much look like half the city should fit into them on a Sundas. There are literal catholic monks running around in that game, complete with the iconic tonsure. And yet it doesn't seem like the priests ever conduct a service, and people just come in to pray whenever they like. And maaaybe that might just be because anyting else might have been a little hard to implement (back in 2006 in any case).

But also: We have this pantheon made up of nine divines, and while Akatosh does kind of appear as the "lead" deity in Imperial culture, we do have one chapel in each of the major cities, and each is dedicated to a different divine. And to me it appears that while most people in TES are, like, casually religious, those that are really dedicated to it usually have their "main" god that they follow. How would a service even look like, then? Would the priests just go "This is the chapel of Kynareth, so we're going to spread her teachings only"?(And then what happens to, for example, followers of Zenithar in that city? Are they just all expected to move to Leyawiin?) Or would the clergy instead say "Well, technically we are Kynareth's priests, but we serve the Nine!", and church service would be fairly generic, catering to everyone?

I also have not seen any sign of religious celebration of any holidays. This may be due to the fact that there are different regional customs and celebrations around certain holidays (like the New Life), and others are limited to certain regions from the get-go. There are a handful of holidays that are definitely celebrated in Imperial culture, though, and some of them have a religious aspect to them at least, South Winds Prayer for example. I've pulled this from the UESP holiday lore page: "The 15th of Morning Star is a holiday taken very seriously in Tamriel. The South Wind's Prayer is a plea by all the religions of Tamriel for a good planting season. Citizens flock to services in the cities' temples, as the clergy is known to perform free healings on this day." So I guess we have services for major holidays at least? Maybe the chapels are packed for those. But I doubt these things are a regular occurrence.

Oh, and then there's the distinct lack of sermons. I've literally never seen any TES priests giving any at all - I've only witnessed Heimskr's screeching and Maramal preaching to the... less than interested... patrons at the Bee & Barb. And that's not the same thing as someone giving a sermon to their congregation. Also, there is Martin canonically saying he's not used to public speaking, and that's not what I woud expect from a man who gives sermons or conducts church service on a regular basis. Kinda sad that I have to use a random thing this man says to his Blades as a source because the lore gives us nothing...

Personally, I do think the Oblivion chapels really just look the way they do because it fit the vibe of the game from a design (and storytelling, maybe) perspective, but then the devs decided the priests are mainly there to offer guidance on an individual basis and heal the sick and injured, like they do in Skyrim, where the temples seem much better suited to the services the priests provide in their respective divine's name.

Elder Scrolls lore enthusiasts, I am begging for any sources on the mainstream religious practices in Cyrodiil in the 3rd era, because I can't remember a single church service taking place in Oblivion. I just want to make sure I'm not contradicting the lore before I go ham inventing liturgy.

[chronicsheepdeprivation]

Why the fuck did I make this.