#Lazy Day Stroll

[aheckinmess]

Seeing Stripes (Dad Sukuna)

(Part 4 of Cursed, Not Cute.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Dad Sukuna, OC Child, Child Gojo Satoru, Lazy Day Stroll, Protective Sukuna, Soft Sukuna, Sukuna's Original Form, Gojo Satoru is a Little Shit, Sukuna Has a Daughter, She Stays Throwing Shade, Did We Expect Anything Less?, Also There's a Tiger Spirit, She's Just as Sassy

Word Count: 1,535 words

Summary: Besu's thoughtful stroll turns into the start of a new friendship. Only problem is she has no idea how her father will react since it's a boy.

Chapter 4: Seeing Stripes

“I think you’re crazy.” Besu huffed at her tiger companion, kicking the gravel beneath her feet. “Why try to make friends when they’re only going to try and take my power or gain influence with my father?”

“You don’t know everyone seeks to harm you.” Baekho chuffed and rubbed against her leg. “It is not good for you to be alone.”

“I have you.”

“I cannot be the only one you interact with, Little One.”

“Yeah? Why not?”

“You’re eleven now.” Baekho licked Besu’s hand once. “You need others around you to support you. Your father and I can only provide so much. You need peers your own age you can learn to trust and socialize with.”

“I don’t need anyone else.”

. . . . .

As she’d gotten older, Sukuna trained Besu extensively in her use of cursed energy and techniques. She no longer feared walking through the streets of Shibuya. Those who initially viewed Besu’s life as free game soon learned the extent of Baekho’s wrath.

“Your father is worried about you, you know.”

That gave Besu pause, but only for a moment. Then, she shoved her hands in her pockets and redoubled her pace, storming down the streets. She shoulder-checked a fruit vendor and the cabbage man, sending glares at anyone who met her eyes.

“Cub, you know he cares about you. As hard as it is for him to show it, he wants you to be happy, even if he doesn’t fully understand why.” Baekho continues. “Your need for companionship is as evident as the stripes on my back.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know where I’d find that.” Besu sighed, kicking a pebble in her path. “Father only teaches me how to fight.”

“Perhaps he teaches you to fight because it is the only thing he knows.”

Besu opened her mouth to respond when a green-haired man flung himself in front of her.

“May your reign be short-lived, Princess–” His voice abruptly ended as Baekho caught him in her teeth and crushed his bones between her jaws.

She dropped his body in the street and kept walking with Besu, whose expression didn’t change.

“He homeschools me and teaches me everything at home. Am I just supposed to walk out in the streets and befriend the first person I see?” Besu gestured with her hand and it smacked straight into a boy with white hair. “I am so sorry.” She squeaked, covering her mouth with her hands. In an instant, Baekho’s spirit drew back into her body.

“Pfft. Was that supposed to hurt?” The young boy rolled his eyes behind a pair of stark, black sunglasses. Based on the cursed energy radiating from him, there was only one person he could be.

“Was that supposed to insult me?” Besu quipped back, quirking an eyebrow at him. One pair of hands stayed in her pockets, but the other pair rested on her hips in irritation.

“You’re the daughter of the Curse King.” The boy said, tilting his head as his posture reflected her own. “Besu, right?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “And you are?”

“The princess of the Curse King doesn’t know who I am?” He scoffed.

“I know who you are, but I’m giving you the option of introducing yourself before I confirm that you are, in fact, an asshole.” Besu shuffled her feet, reaching out to Baekho with her mind. Keep an eye on him. I sense no threat from him. He seems to be cautious, like you.

The boy’s lips twisted into a smirk at her attitude.

“I like your style, Princess of Curses. I’m Gojo. Satoru Gojo.” His smirk disappeared as soon as it surfaced. “Why are you out here? Fancy a destructive stroll through the streets?”

“I don’t harbor the same destructive tendencies of my father.” Besu started walking, letting him decide whether or not he wanted to follow. “Though you’d think otherwise based on the amount of people that have tried to kill me.”

When the world grew quiet again, Besu assumed Gojo left, leaving the residue of his massive cursed energy behind him.

“People are constantly trying to kill me too. I’m sure you know why.” His voice startled her back into reality and she spared him a glance.

Besu knew. Father had schooled her on a plethora of well-known sorcerer families and their techniques. With the vast variety of cursed techniques she would encounter, narrowing down the families with techniques passed down proved vital for survival. The less wild factors she had, the safer and stronger she’d be.

“I understand.” As she passed her favorite sweet shop, she nodded to him. “Do you like sweets? Do you wanna go get something to eat?” That’s a friendly gesture, right? A respectable invitation, Little One. I’m proud.

“Sure.” Gojo smiled.

. . . . .

Besu sat at a table eating ice cream while Gojo stuffed his face with warabi mochi; she racked her brain for topics of conversation, as well as possibilities to help protect her new friend from assassins like the ones she faced daily.

“Besu, yeah? What sort of cursed spirit latched onto you?” Gojo asked after his last bite of dessert. He folded his arms behind his head and reclined. “I saw a glimpse earlier.”

“She didn’t retreat, she just likes staying inside me to keep other spirits and people from clocking my cursed energy easily.” Besu growled defensively. No need to protect my honor, Cub, he’ll learn soon enough. “But she’s the White Tiger Guardian, Baekho.”

“Baekho, huh?” Gojo tried to appear disinterested, but his eyes shone behind his glasses the same way her father’s had when he’d first heard. “Not often a cursed spirit so powerful as Baekho bonds to anyone, not even a sorcerer.”

“Yeah…” Besu nodded absently, before her face lit up. “Hey! Maybe I can get Baekho to help protect you…from the people trying to kill you, too? Baekho, can you do that?”

A swirl of smoky blue swirled into the air as Baekho’s glowing blue figure materialized beside them.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that. We are tethered, little love.” Baekho rubbed her head against Besu’s hand and turned to Gojo.

“Ha!” Gojo chuckled, wrinkling his lips into a shit-eating grin. “You think I’m so weak that I need her protection? What do you take me for, a whelp?”

Baekho bared her teeth, a warning for the young cub to stand down. “As it stands, your power is great. Few would ever surpass it. But should you ever find yourself in trouble, rally your cursed energy into a pool at the top of your head as a flare. Energy that’s stored away in the mind is the most difficult to ignore, and we will find you.”

Gojo pushed his glasses down far enough for Baekho to see the roll of his eyes. Then he stood and dusted off his shirt.

“You think I need a house cat to keep me safe?”

Besu blinked and Baekho had Gojo on the ground, her massive paw on his chest.

“Hold your tongue, Young Cub. I am tethered, not tamed.”

. . . . .

By the time Besu returned home, Sukuna waited for her in the den. On a throne of bones, he appeared sorely disinterested in the book he read, but Besu she’d been gone long enough for him to hide his worry behind the pages.

“Father, I have returned home.”

“Besu, I am glad you are back safely.” Sukuna bookmarked his page and turned his full attention to her. “You were gone longer than I expected.”

“Yes, sir. I did not mean to delay. I met a new companion.” She chose her words carefully. Anyone else and Sukuna might find them unworthy of her attention. But Satoru Gojo? Besu was sure Sukuna would find him worthy, but his disdain for the Gojo family was of no question.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, sir. We stopped by my favorite sweet shop for idle chatter. I hope that’s alright.”

“Depends on who you were with.”

“A boy my age by the name of Satoru Gojo.”

Sukuna’s red eyes suddenly locked with Besu’s and he bared a set of sharp teeth. At that moment, they seemed like fangs on a feral tiger, not unlike Baekho. She couldn’t tell if the murder in his eyes was because of Gojo’s namesake or the fact that he was, well, a boy.

“What did you talk about?”

Baekho, I’m scared. I am here.

“Well, we mostly just talked about how we’re both constantly trying to stay safe from assassins.” Besu explained, leaving out their discussion of Baekho. “I suggested the sweet shop. I wanted a companion.”

“A companion, I understand. But a boy?” Sukuna groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And not just any boy, either. Satoru Gojo! Of all the sorcerers you could encounter…”

“I’m sorry, Father.”

With a heavy sigh, Sukuna stood and placed four sets of hands on her shoulders.

“Well, as long as you have someone other than Baekho and me to keep you out of trouble…I’ll allow it.” Sukuna surprised her with a kiss to her forehead before stalking away. “But if he ever lays a hand on you, I’ll dismantle and cleave the little ass until he is a puddle of blood and marrow.”

Continue Reading -> Ch. 5

[gojoest]

lazy days + lovestruck souls ♡ satoai

[mafiatsunafish]

Lazy day, sleepy day

( @hornyricecooker sleepy Lancy for my baby)

[readwritealldayallnight]

“-other than that, wasn’t so bad.” Simon says, readjusting the material of the balaclava across the bridge of his nose with his free hand. His other hand is busy, keeping yours warm as you lead him down sidewalk after sidewalk.

The two of you have just finished having Sunday morning brunch at a local cafe, something you insisted was becoming ‘tradition’ after the second time it happened. And according to you, after finishing eating, (Simon never wanting to hear a word about you paying for a thing) the next part of this lazy morning routine calls for strolling about at a pace that he would normally find pointless, if not downright frustrating. But for you, he slows down.

“Butcher’s an interesting first job.” You reply, nodding along in thought. You picture a younger Simon, fresh out of school, probably fresh faced as well. He was likely as tall, though not yet as muscular as the military would make him. A meat clever in hand, bloody apron around his waist, he was likely still inadvertently intimidating people back then the way he does now. “I was mostly just taking babysitting jobs until I graduated. Liked it well enough.”

“I actually had to babysit a neighbour one time, when I was younger. Actual baby at tha’ too.” He tells you with a chuckle, slightly shaking his head at the memory.

“What?” You laugh as well, the image in your mind now swapping out the meat clever in a teenaged Simon’s grip for a drooling infant. “How did that work out?”

“Neighbour comes bangin’ on our door, she’s carryin’ the thing, it’s screamin’ its bloody little head off,” You roll your eyes at the way Simon refers to the child, swatting his arm playfully but listening on. “She tells me her husband thinks he’s havin’ a fuckin’ heart attack. None o’ the other neighbours are home or answerin’ the door. ‘Fore I know it, she’s passin’ me the kid, askin’ if mum can watch her while she drives him to the hospital. Next thing I know she’s gone and I’m left with the thing.”

“Oh my gosh! Well where was your mum?” You ask, in disbelief that you’ve never heard this story from him before, half wondering if he’s pulling your leg.

“She wasn’t home, I can tell you that! Only me and the new lil’ orphan were.” He utters, strengthening his grip on your hand as you start to hunch over with laughter.

“Okay so wait, you were home alone? Oh no! How long did you have to ‘babysit’ for?” You giggle.

“Well technically Tommy was there but he would’ve only been a hindrance, told him to stay in his room.” Simon adds, pulling his hand out of yours, only to wrap it around your shoulder, now that you’ve come to a standstill at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. “Fuckin’ nearly 4 hours went by before mum came home and took over. Longest hours o’ my life. I think that might’ve been the day I enlisted actually.”

You elbow his side as you continue to laugh, seeing that he’s teasing you at the end now. You open your mouth to tease him right back, but your eye catches sight of the shop you’ve been standing in front of, jaw dropping wider.

“Simon!” You’re pulling him with a strength he would otherwise be impressed by if he wasn’t so suddenly caught off guard, senses kicking into high alert now as his head swivels in search of the cause of your distress. “How have we never seen this before??”

Oh.

He should’ve known better.

He actually had been avoiding taking you down this street for a little while now, but had been too caught up in his story telling to notice the direction you’d taken in him. His subtle effort of wrapping his arm around you to tilt you away from the storefront obviously hadn’t worked out. He opens his mouth to answer, but can only sigh when you’re already making your way towards the entrance of the pet store.

“We’re only lookin’, right?” He asks loud enough for you to hear as he follows you in.

Wrong.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Where the boys get jealous... (Feat. Barty, Regulus, Sirius, Remus, and James)

WC: ~3.5k

CW: Fem!Reader, a few cusses, obsessive and possessive boys, Remus and Moony are written as different characters.

Barty gets asked if you're single…

Barty leaned against the stone wall of the corridor, arms crossed and a lazy smirk playing on his lips as the boy in front of him tried to find his footing in the conversation. It was late enough in the evening that most of the students had cleared out, leaving the space quiet except for the faint echo of distant footsteps. The boy- what was his name? Probably irrelevant- was shifting his weight nervously, though he tried to mask it with a forced bravado.

“So,” The boy began again, licking his lips as though trying to sound casual. “You’re close with her, right? I mean, you two are always together.”

Barty raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening just a touch as he tilted his head- pulling the smoke from between his lips. “We’re friends,” Barty replied easily, though the word friends came out slow and deliberate, almost like a challenge.

The boy took a deep breath, seemingly bolstered by Barty’s nonchalant tone. “Right, yeah. I figured.” He hesitated, then plunged forward, clearly emboldened by the silence. “I was just wondering, you know… do you think she’d go for someone like me?”

Barty blinked. For the briefest moment, his expression was unreadable- like he hadn’t quite heard the question correctly. Then, like a switch being flipped, he grinned widely, his whole face lighting up as though the very idea had amused him to no end.

“You?” He repeated, laughter edging his voice as he uncrossed his arms and pushed off the wall. He took a deep breath of his smoke and let the ash slip onto the boy's shoe, who quickly shook it off. Barty gestured at the boy vaguely, as though considering his entire existence. “You’re asking if you would have a shot?”

The boy’s bravado faltered slightly at Barty’s tone, but he straightened his shoulders, forcing a confident nod. “Yeah. I mean, she’s nice to everyone, right? So I thought- ”

“Oh, that’s precious,” Barty interrupted smoothly, his voice warm but condescending. He stepped closer, his free hand sliding into his pocket, his green eyes glinting as he looked the boy over. “She is nice to everyone, isn’t she? That’s what makes her so…” He paused, pretending to search for the right word. “Enchanting, I suppose.”

The boy relaxed just a fraction at Barty’s seemingly complimentary tone, but Barty’s smile sharpened as he took another step forward.

“Here’s the thing,” Barty continued, his voice softening into something dangerously close to friendly. “You’re not a bad bloke, are you?” He flicked his robes, letting the smoke from his cigarette fill the boys senses. “Clean enough robes, decent enough grades- probably someone your mum’s very proud of. Real cookie cutter, yeah?”

The boy blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… I guess?”

Barty grinned wider. “See? Nothing wrong with you at all. And yet…” He trailed off, taking another hit before he blatantly blew the smoke into his face. Even then he still found himself leaning in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “She’s not for you.”

The boy coughed, shooing away the smoke, confused. “What do you mean? She’s not- ”

“Let me save you some time, mate,” Barty cut in smoothly, stepping around him as though they were taking a casual stroll together. “Do you know what she wants to be after she graduates? How she wrinkles her nose when she laughs too hard- how much she hates when someone brings it up? Or how she’ll hum to herself when she thinks no one’s listening? How to make her smile on her worst days?” He glanced back over his shoulder, his smile full of sharp teeth. “You don’t, do you?”

The boy shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Barty’s words. “No, but- ”

Barty whirled back to face him, the sudden movement causing the boy to flinch. “That’s the problem though, innit?” He said softly, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “You don’t know her. Not really. And she deserves someone who does.”

The boy looked frustrated now, his confidence cracking under Barty’s pointed gaze. “You’re just saying that because you think you’re better for her!”

Barty’s smirk vanished. The shift was subtle but immediate, the playfulness draining from his face as his eyes turned icy, pinning the boy where he stood. “Better for her?” Barty echoed softly, his tone devoid of its earlier amusement. “I’d destroy myself for her. I’d burn the whole bloody world down if it so much as thought about hurting her. I've spent years of my life making sure she'd never know fear when I'm around.”

The boy opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. Barty stepped closer, forcing him to back up until his shoulders hit the cold stone wall. Flicking out his cig and tossing it at his chest.

“You don’t understand devotion, mate,” Barty continued, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Not the kind that keeps you awake at night, wondering if she’s happy. Not the kind that has you ready to rip apart anyone who so much as looks at her the wrong way. That kind of love… it’s not for people like you.”

The boy swallowed hard, his eyes darting away as though trying to escape Barty’s unrelenting stare.

Barty tilted his head, the hint of a smile returning to his lips, though it held none of its earlier warmth. “But don’t worry,” he said lightly, taking a small step back. “I’m not angry. You’re harmless, really. Like a moth buzzing too close to something far too bright for you to touch. Happens to everyone who meets her.”

The boy shifted uneasily, his face pale as he tried to muster some shred of dignity. “You’re crazy,” He muttered under his breath.

Barty grinned at that, his eyes glinting with something almost feral. “Probably,” He admitted cheerfully, shrugging. “Just trust me mate. You wouldn't survive the competition.”

~~~

Regulus sees a guy trying to ask you out…

You were standing just outside the courtyard, the stone archways sheltering you and a nervous-looking Gryffindor boy from the cool autumn breeze. He’d stopped you after class, clearly trying to build up the courage to ask something. You were being polite, as always, listening with a soft smile while he stumbled over his words.

Regulus hadn’t been far, of course. He never was, though you hadn’t noticed him watching you from across the courtyard, his keen gray eyes narrowing slightly at the boy’s sudden presence.

“So, um,” the Gryffindor started, shifting on his feet and running a hand through his hair. “I was wondering if- uh- well, maybe you’d like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend? Just us?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. “Oh- ”

Before you could finish, Regulus moved in like a shadow, silent and swift. Without a word, he appeared at your side and leaned down, resting his chin casually on your shoulder. The gesture startled you, your breath hitching as his weight settled comfortably there, familiar but intrusive all the same.

“Are you busy, ma moitié?” Regulus asked smoothly, his tone soft, casual, and laced with just a hint of amusement. He ignored the Gryffindor completely, acting as if he didn’t exist.

Your face turned slightly to the side, startled by his sudden proximity. “Regulus? What are you- ”

“We have that thing to do, remember?” Regulus murmured, his voice low but perfectly clear. He tilted his head, the movement brushing his hair softly against your cheek.

The Gryffindor frowned, his nerves quickly shifting to irritation. “What thing? I was just asking her something- ”

Regulus finally glanced at him, his gaze lazy and unbothered but chilling nonetheless. “How generous of you to interrupt,” he said coolly, his chin still perched on your shoulder as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

The boy bristled. “I didn’t interrupt- ”

Regulus cut him off with a small, sardonic smile, as though he were correcting a child. “You didn’t mean to, I’m sure,” he drawled. “But, you see, we have plans. So unless you’re particularly fond of wasting her time…”

You frowned slightly, your hand moving to nudge Regulus’s shoulder as if to make him move. “Reg, that’s not- ”

“Isn’t it?” Regulus replied smoothly, tilting his head ever so slightly, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

The Gryffindor’s face flushed, clearly caught off guard by Regulus’s presence and tone. He looked at you, frustration in his voice. “Look, I just wanted to- ”

“I think you should go,” Regulus said, his voice as light and polite as ever, though there was no mistaking the ice beneath it.

The Gryffindor hesitated, but Regulus’s unwavering stare pinned him in place. It wasn’t a glare- Regulus didn’t need to glare to be intimidating. His calm, unwavering confidence was sharp enough. After another awkward pause, the boy muttered, “Maybe another time.”

He turned and walked off, shoulders tense and ears red.

Regulus finally lifted his chin from your shoulder, straightening up with a look of faint satisfaction. You turned on him immediately, pouting a bit with your bottom lip jotted out- eyebrows furrowing and your arms crossed. “That wasn't very nice, Black.”

Regulus shrugged and wrapped his arm around your waist as he turned you away from the courtyard. “He’ll live.”

~~~

Sirius seeing someone flirt with you…

It was a lovely spring afternoon by the Black Lake. The sunlight filtered through the branches of the nearby trees, dancing over the rippling water. A cool breeze swept through the air, ruffling your hair as you sat cross-legged on a blanket, deep in conversation with a Slytherin boy.

The boy- someone vaguely familiar, you thought his name was Marcus- had approached you earlier in the day, something about needing help with Potions. He was pleasant enough, a bit shy, though you couldn’t help but notice how often he looked away or scratched the back of his neck when you smiled.

“…and, you know, it’s just the stirring,” Marcus was saying, his voice faltering slightly as his eyes darted to yours. “I keep- well, messing it up. Slughorn says I’m overthinking it.”

You offered a gentle smile, always patient. “It’s probably just nerves,” you reassured him kindly. “You’re better at it than you think, I’m sure. Do you want me to walk you through it?”

Marcus blinked, visibly perking up. “Oh- yeah, that’d be great, I mean- ”

“Ah, there you are,” Sirius Black’s unmistakable drawl cut through the serene afternoon like a thunderclap.

Both of you turned toward the voice, and there he was. Sirius stood at the edge of the blanket with his hands shoved lazily in the pockets of his trousers, the sunlight making his dark hair shine like ink. There was an unmistakable mischief in his gray eyes as he looked from you to Marcus and back again.

“Sirius,” You said with a mix of surprise and mild annoyance, straightening where you sat. “What are you doing here?”

“What, can’t a man visit his favorite girl?” He replied with a grin, though his gaze sharpened ever so slightly as it flicked toward Marcus. “You know, it’s dangerous out here by the lake. Giant squids, rouge bludgers, snakes- all that. Best you’re not left alone with someone… inexperienced.”

Marcus’s face flushed, clearly thrown off. “I think she’s doing fine, thanks,” he muttered, trying to sound confident but failing miserably.

Sirius smirked, as though that was the response he’d been hoping for. Without any preamble, he dropped onto the blanket beside you- practically on top of you- his long legs stretching out as he sprawled back against the grass like he owned the entire lakeshore.

“Merlin’s beard, it’s exhausting being me,” he said dramatically, folding his arms behind his head. “You don’t mind, do you, sweetheart? Just needed to rest my bones for a bit.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sirius, I’m kind of busy- ”

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt,” he said innocently, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth was anything but. “Go on, Marcus. You were talking about… stirring, was it?”

Marcus shot Sirius a pointed glare. “We were in the middle of something.”

“Were you?” Sirius replied, eyes gleaming with barely contained amusement. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You frowned, nudging him with your elbow. “Sirius, stop being difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult.” He purred smoothly, shifting just enough to rest his head against your shoulder, his hair brushing your neck as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “Just keeping an eye on you. Someone has to.”

Your face burned at the unexpected affection, though you tried your best to seem unbothered. Marcus, however, looked positively livid, his fists clenching and unclenching by his sides.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Marcus accused, glaring at Sirius.

Sirius blinked up at him, all mock innocence. “Me? What on earth would I be doing on purpose?”

“You know what- ”

“Marcus,” you interrupted, sighing as you tried to salvage the conversation. “Maybe we can pick this up later. It’s… getting a bit distracting.”

Marcus glanced at you, frustrated but resigned, his gaze lingering a moment longer before he nodded stiffly. “Sure. Later.”

He stalked off without another word, leaving you alone with Sirius, who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“You’re an ass.” You huffed, finally shoving him off your shoulder.

Sirius sat up with a dramatic groan, smirking as he stretched out his arms. “Merlin, that was exhausting.”

You glared at him, exasperated. “What was that?”

“That, my dear,” Sirius said, grinning cheekily, “was me doing you a favor. You don’t honestly want to spend your afternoon discussing stirring, do you?”

“That’s not the point!” You argued, narrowing your eyes. “He was just being nice, and you scared him off!”

“Good,” Sirius replied smugly, lying back down with his hands behind his head. “Couldn’t risk losing you to someone boring.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I could be practical- real practical. We can talk about stirring.”

You huffed, trying to hide the small smile tugging at your lips.

Sirius turned his head to look at you, his grin softening ever so slightly as his stormy eyes held yours. “Besides,” he added, voice quieter now, “it’s much better when it’s just us, don’t you think?”

~~~

Remus finds you asleep on someone he doesn't know…

The Gryffindor common room was dimly lit, the fire burning low, its golden light casting lazy shadows across the walls. Most students had gone to bed, and silence blanketed the space, save for the occasional pop of burning wood.

Remus hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d lain awake for what felt like hours, restlessness gnawing at him as Moony clawed at the edges of his mind, pacing.

She’s not where she's supposed to be, Moony murmured, insistent and low, like a growl rumbling through his chest. Go to her. Find her.

It was nonsense, of course. You were probably curled up in your dormitory, safe and warm, and yet Moony’s unease bled into Remus, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He sighed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and padding barefoot to the staircase. Just to be sure. Just to calm Moony.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, the fire caught his eye first. Then he saw you.

You were curled up in a worn armchair by the fire, your head tilted to rest softly against the shoulder of a fifth-year boy Remus barely recognized. The boy sat stiffly, afraid to move, his expression somewhere between frozen panic and misplaced pride.

Moony stilled.

And then he snarled.

Get her up. She’s vulnerable.

Remus stopped in place, his breath catching as an instinct he couldn’t quite name surged through him. Moony’s anger wasn’t a loud roar this time- it was quiet, simmering like an ember. What’s he doing there? She’s asleep. He shouldn’t be near her. She's vulnerable.

Remus swallowed hard, his fingers twitching as he tried to steady himself. He didn’t want to startle you, and he didn’t want to scare the boy. He wasn’t angry- not really. But Moony… Moony didn’t understand manners.

Before he fully realized what he was doing, Remus moved forward. Quiet as a shadow, he stopped in front of the chair, his amber-tinged eyes fixed on the boy.

The younger Gryffindor glanced up nervously. “Oh. Uh- Lupin- she fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake her.”

Remus didn’t say anything at first, his gaze shifting to you. Your breathing was soft and steady, one arm curled loosely under your head. Moony quieted just a little at the sight, though the wolf’s presence still pressed against Remus’s ribs, heavy and protective.

“She’ll be more comfortable in her own bed,” Remus said finally, his voice low and calm. “I’ll take her.”

The boy blinked, confused. “I- what?”

Remus lifted his chin slightly, his tone firm despite the gentleness in it. “You can go. I’ll make sure she gets to her dorm.”

The boy hesitated, but something in Remus’s steady gaze seemed to settle the matter. “Right. Yeah. Sure,” he mumbled awkwardly, carefully shifting out from under you. He moved to stand, glancing one last time at you before hurrying up the stairs, his footsteps fading into the quiet.

Remus let out a slow breath, crouching down next to you. Moony settled just a little further, content now that the boy was gone, but still restless, still protective.

She’s too exposed, Moony murmured. Wake her. Take her where she’s safe.

Remus hesitated, watching the way your lashes fluttered faintly against your cheeks as you stirred, your lips parting slightly as though searching for the warmth that had left. His heart tugged in his chest, guilt biting at him.

“Dovie,” He called softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached out, his hand hovering over your arm for just a moment before gently brushing against your shoulder. “Up you get, lovely girl.”

You shifted with a quiet murmur, blinking blearily as your eyes fluttered open. “Mmm… Remus?”

“Hey.” He cooed, his lips curving into a small, careful smile. “You fell asleep down here.”

“Oh.” You blinked again, sitting up slowly and rubbing at your eyes. You looked around in confusion before your gaze landed back on him. “What time is it?”

“Late,” He chuckled, standing to his full height as he offered you a hand. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your dorm.”

You frowned sleepily, tilting your head. “You don’t have to do that.”

Remus’s jaw tightened faintly, and for a moment, he swore he could feel Moony’s growl rumbling deep inside him. She needs protecting. Don’t leave her here.

“I insist,” He said gently, his voice soft but brooking no argument. “You’ll sleep better in your own bed.”

You yawned, smiling at him as you took his hand. “If you say so.”

~~~

James steals the show from your newest admirer…

The Gryffindor common room was alive with its usual evening bustle- cards flying in midair from a game of Exploding Snap, the fire crackling merrily, and the low hum of chatter filling every corner. You were perched on the arm of one of the chairs, laughing softly as a chaser- Finn regaled you with a story from practice, his easy-going charm and dramatic hand gestures keeping you engaged.

Finn’s voice was lively, something about a Bludger mishap and the newest Beater, and you couldn’t help the bright smile it pulled from you.

James, sitting across the room with Sirius and Remus, had been halfway through a halfhearted game of Wizard’s Chess when he noticed.

“Prongs,” Sirius said, nudging him when his knight didn’t move. “Your move, mate.”

James didn’t hear him. His hazel eyes were fixed on the sight of you leaning just a little closer to Finn, laughing at something he’d said.

James sat up straighter, his jaw tightening.

“Earth to Prongs?” Sirius waved a hand in front of James’s face, earning himself a scowl.

“Do you lot know,” James said suddenly, his voice pitched loud enough to carry across the room, “about the time I stole Filch’s keys and locked him in his own office? Poor guy thought Peeves was after him.”

All at once, a ripple of laughter swept through the room. Students turned toward James with wide smiles and bright eyes, a chorus of, “No way!” and “You’ve got to tell us!” filling the air.

Finn faltered mid-sentence, glancing toward the growing crowd around James.

You shot Finn an apologetic smile, clearly torn between listening to the end of his story and the infectious energy that always followed your best friend. James’s grin was wide and charming as ever, his eyes twinkling mischievously- but when his gaze flicked to yours, something sharper lingered beneath the warmth.

He hadn’t stopped looking at Finn once.

“What happened?” One of the younger students urged eagerly, completely captivated by James’s easy charisma.

“Ah, you wouldn’t believe it,” James replied, leaning back in his seat as though he had all the time in the world. His voice was smooth, his confidence magnetic. “I’d hidden behind that big grandfather clock, you know the one? Filch swore up and down he’d heard a ghost- but he couldn’t figure out how the door locked from the outside. Poor bloke works at Hogwarts and still doesn't grasp magic!”

More laughter erupted, and James winked at you as if to say, See? Isn’t this better?

Finn glanced at you, clearly realizing he’d lost your attention entirely. “I, um… I guess I’ll finish the story later,” He muttered sheepishly.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” You said, genuinely apologetic, but Finn was already waving you off.

“It’s fine. James has a habit of stealing the spotlight anyway,” he joked, though his tone wasn’t without a hint of frustration. He wandered off toward his dorm room, leaving you to turn toward James and his growing group of admirers.

Later, Sirius confronted James about his little stunt. Calling him jealous, James scoffs dramatically. “Jealous? Me? Please. I’m just looking out for her.”

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “Looking out for her, or making sure no one else looks at her?”

James shrugs, a smug little grin tugging at his lips. “Same thing, really.”

[reignpage]

Frat Boy!Gojo

Madri Lager: drunk words

Contents: cursing, just a little conversation between them to set the mood and provide a backdrop for the next fic, not proofread

No fucking way. 

There’s just no fucking way. 

“Why the hell are you here?” You hiss. 

Gojo fucking Satoru strolled into your lecture hall, smug grin on his fuck ugly face, arms folded behind his head and swinging his legs like a maniac. From the doors at the front, he immediately spotted you all the way at the back, sat by your lonesome and you could see his shit-eating grin widen. The whites of his teeth blind you almost as much as his impossibly white hair.

Then, the freak had the audacity to climb the stairs, ignoring the whispering and the pointing, and sat next to you. Well, a seat down because you refused to move your bag, even fought with him a little when he tried to lift it. 

He shrugs, slinging an arm around the back of the chair between you, fingertips way too close to your shoulder, and black sunglasses hanging low on his nose bridge. “Was feeling bored so here I am.”

Counting to ten, you tried to put on a patient voice, like you’re berating a child, which you pretty much are, and you grit out, “Bored people take up hobbies. Bored people do things like puzzles and cooking and knitting. Bored people don’t crash lectures and bother other people.”

“I love when you lecture me on common knowledge, wifey. It really warms my heart.” To emphasise his stupid point, he presses a hand to his chest and fans his face with the other. “You’re just so smart.”

You slap his hand away when he tries to boop your nose. People are staring, turning their heads like owls as they strained to listen to your conversations. Some people are taking pictures, no doubt sending it to The Bulletin or whatever, because people have nothing better to do than gossip. You hate this attention; the pointing and whispering because of your appearance you’ve learnt to tolerate, but this? 

This is just irritating on a different level.

At least once a day, a cheerful stranger comes up to you and asks in bewilderment if you’re Gojo’s fiancee. In fact, they ask if you’re really, actually the future wife of Gojo Satoru like he’s some mythical being and you’re a frumpy little worm. Fuck them. And fuck him. 

“Go away, Gojo,” you roll your eyes, typing as much of the lecturer’s notes as you can, a little distracted by the peering eyes around you and the ones running over your clothes . 

He sighs and lifts the lace from your dress, rounding the neckline. You feel it tickle your neck, and you fight the urge to shudder. In disgust. With a forced melodramatic tone, he complains, “I’m bored. Entertain me.”

“Are you fucking twelve? Go watch a movie like a normal person.”

“Movies are boring,” he retorts as if it’s fact. 

You roll your eyes. “And what? I’m so much more interesting?” 

What a stupid question. You really shouldn’t have asked that because the serious expression on his face as he lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug makes you blush. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

“Did you meet Suguru on the course or was he your piercer first?”

Still typing, you throw him a side glance, feeling suspicious of the sudden change in conversation. But it’s welcomed. “We met on the course. First year. We were in the same class. He’s a good guy.”

Gojo huffs as if he didn’t like your answer. 

The piercer’s actually a decent person; he was friendly, smart, and kind. He made long, boring classes feel shorter with his interesting insights and opinions, and he had such a great way of expressing them — he was the most eloquent male you’ve ever met. However, there was always something off about him, like an inner turmoil that neither you nor he could ever quite understand. 

It was when he absentmindedly said he was thinking of dropping out that you felt you knew him a little better. You both shared a long talk at the back of the Life Sciences building where your little stroll took you, him smoking and you listening to his mutterings. He spoke of this feeling of being out of place, which you understood better than anyone else, and how the traditional path didn’t suit him. He disappeared for a while, a couple months, and you thought your response might have spooked him. After all, no one ever really comes to you for advice. But when he reached out to offer you a free piercing as his first ever client at his newly opened studio, you realised maybe you are capable of dropping an odd pearl here and there. 

“Well, Suguru’s my bestie, so back off,” Gojo pouts.

From your peripheral, you see him eye the big lecture hall and you don’t really know what he’s thinking. It’s an odd realisation to think that Geto, the guy you’ve always kind of admired, is actually friends with this loser – the suggestion that there’s a redeeming quality to the frat guy is one that doesn’t suit you. 

Most times he’s easy to read; he wants fun and excitement and thrill. He does whatever’s convenient or interesting, a totally impulsive guy. But there are rare moments, emphasis on rare, where you think there might be something more going on in that huge head of his. Maybe there’s something deeper to him. A maturity and wisdom he’s yet to show. 

“Fuck, marry or kill,” he lifts three fingers, “Marx, Satre or Aristotle.”

Yeah, unlikely. 

“Gojo, seriously, go away,” you sigh, exasperated. Just five minutes with the guy and you’re already drained. And somehow, you’re expected to live a lifetime with the weirdo?

Satan strike you down. 

“Me personally, Satre’s cute but something about big, bushy beards really gets me going. So, it’ll have to be: kill Aristotle, no offence dude, fuck Satre, and marry Marx.”

Two girls in the row in front of you giggle. Your lips turn down in repulsion. 

“I’m not sure Marx would like either of us, Gojo,” you give him a pointed look. 

He laughs. It’s loud and sudden and he has to say sorry to the entire lecture when it echoes around the hall. Some people laugh at him, or with him, and the lecturer can only shake his head and carry on. This lecturer is strict and merciless when it comes to interruptions, but of course he doesn’t say a thing against the interloper. How could he when there’s a huge placard over the double doors of this building titled ‘From the Loving Hearts of The Gojo Charitable Foundation’?

A couple minutes pass in relative silence, just the tapping of fingers against keyboards and the droning of the professor filling the space, and you think maybe he’s fallen asleep or maybe he’s so bored that he’s actually thinking of leaving. 

Of course, neither of those things happen because the universe hates you. 

Gojo pokes your side with a pen. You writhe with a blush. 

“Oh, ticklish, are we? Very interesting.” He wiggles his brows like an idiot, and you fight the urge to land a punch there. “Our wedding night’s gonna be fun.”

“We’re not going to have one if you had it your way, remember?”

Leaning back in his seat, he taps the pen —where the hell did even get that? He wasn’t carrying a bag— against his chin, considering his words carefully. He shrugs again. “Well, seeing as everyone’s so set on it, I’ve decided to, you could say, open myself to the idea.”

You try to quell the spark of hope there, that maybe your family could be saved, that you’ll be saved. It’s not wise to let that spark fester into something more. 

Gojo’s impulsive. Fact. 

Gojo’s a thrill-seeker. Fact. 

Gojo is an unserious guy set in his bachelor ways. He cannot be relied upon. He cannot be trusted to keep his word.

All facts. 

It’s easy for him to be able to have the option to be ‘open’ to an idea, whereas it’s thrusted upon you without much say. He can wake up and make decisions solely based on his urges, but you have to be mindful of the family’s reputation, your father’s bad habits, your mother’s social conservative ways, and the fact that this is all your fault. 

“Gojo,” you turn, fixing him with a solemn expression, “don’t do that. Don’t lead me on. I may not want to marry you, but I do want to marry. I must. It’s important to me, so please don’t wave it around like it’s some pretty flag.”

There must be something in your eyes, a graveness or a sombre quality that makes his smile disappear. His brows furrow like he’s trying to understand, trying to piece things together but you’re turning away before he could see. 

Clearing his throat, he pokes you again. “Alright. How about this?”

You throw him a doubtful look, worried about what dumbassery is going to leave his mouth. 

“Go on a date with me.”

“No.”

“Hey! You said that way too quickly.”

Resuming your typing, you’re already trying to drown him out, focused on the history of pragmatic ethics instead of his humoured tone. He’s suggesting something ridiculous again. As if you’d go on a date with him. Him. The guy who’s been getting in the way, the one who’s been making your life difficult and family dinners awkward, and the one you certainly cannot trust to not set up some trap to humiliate you like in the movies. 

“I’m being serious. Let’s go on a date.” Seeing you open your mouth to argue back, he hurriedly adds, “This isn’t fair on me either, y’know? I’m supposed to marry a stranger, one who wears all black and looks like she’d haunt me — not a bad thing, I’m actually kinda into it, question mark? — but my point is, we don’t really know each other. So why don’t we go on a date? It’s a pretty brilliant idea, if I do say so myself.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you mull it over. Sure, it makes sense, it would be good to get to know the freak you’re marrying or supposed to marry. This is how it should have been in the first place. Plus, your mother would certainly approve; she’d think this is a golden opportunity to secure him, to make him fall for you or whatever Mrs. Bennet thing she’s thinking of. 

However, as good as that idea is, you can’t just eagerly agree; there’s no guarantee this isn’t a trap. 

“You’re thinking this is a trap, aren’t you?” Your eyes meet his. He’s grinning ear to ear like he’s proud he guessed correctly. “Why don’t you plan the date, then? Set the time and place, that way there’s no way I could have rigged the environment with explosives or something.”

“No pig blood?”

Gojo smiles even brighter, and you have to squint to prevent losing your vision permanently. 

“No pig blood.”

[pickingupmymercedes]

A bit mushy - Lewis Hamilton

Let's see how Lewis and his wife do in a Couple's Interview.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: none

wordcount: +3k

a/n: Fun and light Lewis for the win, again thanks a million times to @greedyjudge2 for the idea and for some of the questions, I know I don't usually write carefree Lewis but it's my favorite ❤️❤️

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

_______________________________________

The room was buzzing—cameras being adjusted, light stands tweaked and a handful of crew members chatting as they waited for everything to come together.

Lewis sat comfortably on the low-slung, cushy armchair beside his wife, his hand resting casually on the back of her seat tracing lazy circles on her back. They looked impossibly relaxed, as if the cameras were invisible, and this was just another day at home.

The director, a laid-back guy with a coffee stain on his jeans and a clipboard that looked way too serious for the vibe of the shoot, strolled over.

He was juggling his phone and an energy drink, clearly a man trying to keep his cool while wrangling two of the most charismatic people in motorsports.

“Okay, so this should be easy” he started, his voice overly casual like he almost didn’t want to disturb the couple’s chemistry “No serious stuff. No PR-approved answers. We’re here for the real deal. Just answering a few questions about each other, nothing too scandalous. Think... fun, but, y’know, juicy enough to make people smile.”

Lewis’s wife, legs crossed and leaning slightly into her husband’s space, raised an eyebrow. “Define juicy” a sly smile tugging at her lips.

The director chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, like... light-hearted scandal. Stuff people don’t already know. Maybe embarrass him a little—" he motioned to Lewis—"but in a cute way.”

Lewis shot the director a mock glare “Right, you don’t really need to ask her that” he said, his voice dripping with good-humored sarcasm.

His wife snorted, turning to face him with a grin. “Promise not to dig too deep. Unless we’re talking about those sneakers you wore to the beach...”

Lewis groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. “Not the beach sneakers again! One time and I’m branded for life.”

The crew around them snickered, and even the sound guy adjusted his headphones to cover a grin.

There was something about the way they bickered that had the whole room leaning in, as if everyone was witnessing the most intimate, casual conversation between two people who just fit.

The director, fully entertained, motioned to the cameraman to get ready. “Alright, alright. Let’s save the good stuff for the shoot. Remember, it’s just you two being yourselves. No need to put on a show.”

His wife reached over and squeezed Lewis’s hand. “No promises.”

As they shared a quiet laugh, the subtle touches and glances between them were enough to make anyone nearby smile. There was no need for grand gestures—the way they leaned into each other, how their conversations flowed effortlessly, said more than any scripted moment ever could.

They had that kind of love that made everyone else feel like they were in on something out of ordinary, just by watching.

The cameras zoomed in slowly as the couple got comfortable in their seats. Lewis leaned back, his arm still slung casually around his wife’s chair, his body slight angled so he could face her better, and she tucked one leg underneath her, turning toward him like she always did when they were in the middle of one of their many quiet conversations.

Except this wasn’t quite so quiet. The cameras were rolling now, and the world was about to get a glimpse into how they were with each other.

The director's voice came through, just loud enough to hear but never intrusive.

“Alright, let’s get this rolling. What embarrassing fashion trend did you take part in?”

Lewis immediately leaned forward, rubbing his hands together as if he was preparing for battle. “I’ll own this one. Bandanas. Wore them with everything back in the day. Thought I was some kind of rockstar or something.”

She tilted her head, eyebrows shooting up. “Bandanas?” she asked, feigning surprise. Her eyes glimmered with mischief, and she leaned closer, as if letting the audience in on a secret. “You sure it wasn’t the Timberlands?”

Lewis threw his head back with a groan, already knowing where this was headed. “Not the Timbs,” he mumbled, shaking his head like he was in actual pain.

“Yeah, the Timbs” she said, fully grinning now. “Let me remind you, you used to wear them with everything. Jeans, tracksuits, shorts, suits—”

Lewis raised a hand, stopping her, though there was a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I still stand by those, alright? I don’t care what anyone says. Timbs are timeless.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, patting his leg. “Sure, babe. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The banter between them came so naturally, it was easy to forget there were cameras pointed right at them. The crew standing around had mostly stopped what they were doing, some watching the couple with amused smirks, others clearly touched by how playful yet undeniably affectionate they were towards each other.

“Okay, next question: What first attracted you to each other?”

Lewis’s wife leaned back, narrowing her eyes like she was trying to come up with something profound. “His sense of style,” she deadpanned, lips twitching as she fought back a grin.

Lewis blinked, his head cocked to the side. “Seriously? You were just attacking my Timbs? That guy’s sense of style?”

For a moment, she held her ground, lips pursed in mock-seriousness. But after a few seconds of staring at him—his bewildered look, the way he was just waiting for her to crack—she broke. Her laugh wasn’t exactly loud but it filled the room.

“Okay, fine!” She reached out, her hand landing on his thigh, fingers curling into the fabric of his pants. “It was your eyes.”

Lewis’s eyebrows shot up as he gave her a soft smile. He just stared at her, thrown off by her sudden honesty.

She smiled, her gaze softening too as she looked at him. “They’re intense, you know? Like you see things really deeply. The way you look at the world... it’s impossible not to notice.”

Lewis was quiet for a beat, his usual witty retorts momentarily forgotten. His hand moved instinctively to cover hers on his leg, squeezing it gently. “Well, damn” he finally said, his voice quieter than before, almost reverent.

The room around them seemed to still. There was something about the way they looked at each other that made it feel like they were the only ones there, like everyone else had faded away.

“Next one—‘On what occasion have you lied to me?’”

Lewis’s eyes went wide, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he glanced at his wife. “Uh… Remember when I blamed Roscoe for loosing up your house shoes?”

Her mouth dropped open as she stared at him in disbelief. “No. You’re telling me you wore my house shoes, Lewis?!”

He winced, trying to play it cool. “I mean… It was just that one time! They looked comfy, and my feet were cold. I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Oh, I noticed,” she said, crossing her arms. “I just thought Roscoe had lied on them, not that your big feet had wrecked them!”

The crew chuckled, sensing the playful tension building between them.

“Roscoe was the perfect scapegoat…” Lewis defended himself.

“My poor baby” she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “You threw him under the bus!”

“He didn’t seem to mind,” Lewis replied with a smirk, leaning closer to her, his tone turning softer. “But hey, I bought you new ones”

She raised a brow, clearly amused but still pretending to be serious.

“Have I ever made you jealous?”

Lewis leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, a playful smirk creeping across his face as he quipped in before she could. “She has, yes.”

His wife’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh? When exactly?”

He didn’t answer immediately, taking his time like he always did when he wanted to build up the suspense. She leaned in; her curiosity evident in the way her lips quirked. “Come on, give me the details.”

Lewis shook his head, clearly amused. “The silver dress” he said, voice low.

For a second, she didn’t react, clearly trying to place the memory. Then, like a lightbulb flicking on, her eyes widened in recognition. “Ohhh, that night!”

Her laughter exploded from her, loud and sudden, catching even the crew off guard. She leaned back in her chair, clutching her stomach slightly as she laughed, while Lewis sat there, arms still crossed, trying his best to look annoyed but clearly failing.

“That night was something” she said between laughs, her eyes shimmering with tears of amusement.

Lewis sighed, shaking his head. “I’m glad you think it was so funny.”

“Oh, babe, you were so grumpy” she teased, nudging him with her foot.

Lewis didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he just looked at her with that mix of exasperation and fondness that made it clear that, no matter what she did, she was always going to get away with it.

“What’s a song that reminds you of each other?”

This time, she didn’t even hesitate. “A Life Like This by Nao.”

Lewis’s face softened immediately. “Why that one?”

She smiled, but it wasn’t her usual teasing grin. This one was softer, more intimate. “Because... before you, I was just going through life, you know? Things were just happening, and I wasn’t really... present. Then you came along, and it was like everything shifted. It was like my Saturn return was finally over, and I could just... breathe.”

For a moment, Lewis said nothing. His face betrayed him—no amount of his typical coolness could hide the way her words hit him.

He leaned forward slightly, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re really gonna get me emotional, huh?” he murmured, his voice so low only she and the mic could pick up on his voice.

She just smiled; her eyes full of love. “That’s the plan.”

The crew exchanged looks and quiet smiles. It was impossible not to feel the connection between them, like they were watching something precious unfold right in front of them.

“What’s something you wish you did more often?”

Lewis leaned back, thinking for a moment. “Lazy mornings.”

She smiled, nodding. “Yeah?”

“Yeah” he said softly, his eyes on her. “No alarms, no schedules, no meetings. Just us. Laying in bed, talking, laughing... not worrying about what we have to do next.”

She nodded again, her smile turning wistful. “Yeah.”

Their eyes met, and once again, the room seemed to shrink around them, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble.

“Okay love birds, next up ‘What is the most treasured possession that the other has given you?’”

She paused, tapping her chin as if she really had to think about it, though the answer was clearly already on her mind. “The necklace you gave me on our third date.”

The director blinked, looking between them. “Third date?”

“Oh yeah” she nodded, leaning back in her chair, eyes sparkling as she shot Lewis a teasing look. “He was whipped by then.”

Lewis rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “You make it sound like I was proposing marriage.”

“You weren’t far off, though” she teased, reaching for the necklace hanging delicately around her neck. “He gave me this beautiful pendant, that he designed himself, by the way, and I remember thinking, ‘Okay, this guy is serious.’”

Lewis chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I knew what I wanted.”

“That you did” she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

“Yeah” he grinned. “No point in playing games.”

She looked down at the necklace again, her voice softening. “It’s not just the necklace though. It’s what it represented. He was showing me he wasn’t just there for fun—he was there for real.”

Lewis met her gaze, his smile quieter now, filled with affection. “I meant it then, and I mean it now.”

“When did you first know that you were in love?”

This time, she was the one to hesitate, a mischievous glint in her eye. “In love with whom?” she asked, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

Lewis groaned, leaning forward and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, don’t start.”

She giggled, clearly enjoying every second of his exasperation. “I knew I loved you when we went through about a dozen paint stores in Milan looking for the perfect shade of gold for that painting.”

Lewis raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, didn’t remember that.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I could’ve just mixed the colors myself and gotten something close. But you were so invested in finding the exact match that I just... I kept going. And I knew it then. I knew I loved you because you cared about the little things, the details that most people would overlook.”

Lewis stared at her; his face unreadable. Then, slowly, he smiled—a soft, genuine smile that seemed to melt the room around them.

“What’s your favorite memory of the two of you?”

Lewis leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “That time we missed the flight in Paris.”

She let out a groan, breaking the feeling in the room, she already knew where this story was headed. “Nooo, not that!”

“Yep,” Lewis said with a smile. “So we were in Paris, right? And someone—” he pointed at her playfully, “—was absolutely convinced that the subway would get us to the airport faster than any car could.”

“It would’ve!” she protested, already laughing. “The traffic was insane!”

“Yeah sure” he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So there we were, dragging our bumps through the subway stations, hopping from one line to the next. Every station was like a maze, and we were so lost. I kept telling you, ‘Let’s just get a cab,’ but nooo, you were determined.”

She shook her head, smiling. “It was an adventure!”

“It was chaos and we missed the flight by hours” Lewis corrected, his voice teasing but fond.

“But honestly? It’s one of my favorite memories. You were so carefree, so determined, so in the present. We were lost in Paris but we weren’t lost within ourselves.”

Her smile softened, her eyes holding his for a long moment. “You never told me that was your favorite memory.”

“Yeah” he said quietly, his voice more sincere now. “I felt like we could just... slow down. Be present. No pressure, no expectations. Just you and me.”

For a moment, they were silent, the weight of his words settling between them. The room around them was so still that the soft hum of the cameras was the only sound. The crew watched them closely, as if holding their collective breath.

She leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder, and whispered just loud enough for the microphones to catch “I think that’s my favorite memory now, too.”

Lewis smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, and for a few seconds, it was like the cameras weren’t even there. It was just them, lost in a shared memory, a world of their own.

The director, sensing the intimacy of the moment, cleared his throat gently.

“Alright, now to wrap this up ‘When can we expect little Hamiltons running around?”

Both Lewis and his wife exchanged quick glances, and almost in unison, they burst out laughing—only this time, their laughter had a bit of an edge, like they knew something the room didn’t.

Lewis leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands together. “Ooooh, good one.”

“You had to go there, didn’t you?” she added, her eyes wide with exaggerated innocence. “Real smooth.”

The crew, sensing the couple was playing coy, leaned in just a bit, waiting for a juicy response. But instead, Lewis leaned forward, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Well, you never know, right?”

His wife smirked, glancing at him sideways, playing along. “When you least expect it”

The director, not quite satisfied, pressed on. “Any plans in the near future?”

“Oh, besides, like, tomorrow’s plans?” she quipped, keeping the teasing energy alive.

Lewis chimed in again, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “We’ve got a lot of plans. Travel, Roscoe’s bath time…”

The director chuckled, shaking his head. “Dodging the question, I see.”

Lewis gave a knowing look to the camera, adding one final, cryptic comment. “We’ll let you know when it happens... maybe.”

And with that, they both smiled at the cameras, their laughter filling the air as the director called “cut” for the final time.

The room gradually came back to life, the hum of equipment being packed up and crew members chatting quietly filling the air. The couple stayed seated, though, still caught in the gentle pull of their shared moment, almost unaware of the bustling scene around them.

Lewis exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he glanced at his wife, his arm instinctively pulling her a little closer. She smiled, still leaning into him, her head resting against his shoulder, fingers absentmindedly playing with his fingers.

“That was a bit mushy, wasn’t it?” she murmured, a teasing lilt to her voice, though there was warmth in her eyes as she gazed up at him.

Lewis smirked, brushing his thumb gently against her arm. “Just a little. But you started it.”

She chuckled softly, nuzzling into his shoulder. “Tou’re not usually one for getting all sentimental on camera.”

He shrugged lightly, but there was no real defensiveness in his posture.

She smiled, her heart swelling at the softness in his gestures. “Good. I like you better that way.”

She sighed softly, sitting up a little and stretching her arms out with a satisfied groan. “People are going to think we’re a pair of softies.”

Lewis chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Let them.”

She smiled, sitting back in her chair and looking at him with a tenderness that only deepened as she reached out, her hand cupping his cheek for a brief moment. “I guess it’s not the worst thing to be.”

He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly before he opened them and looked straight at her. “Nah, it’s not.”

Unbeknownst to them, the cameras were still rolling—just a little, a behind-the-scenes shot meant to capture those moments of candidness. The crew tried to keep their distance, giving the couple their space, but every now and then, someone would glance over, a quiet smile tugging at their lips. There was something undeniably magnetic about Lewis and his wife, the way they moved around each other, the way they fit together.

Without thinking, he stood up and extended a hand to her, pulling her up from her seat. As she stood, she let out a small laugh, one that was soft and filled with affection. But before she could fully straighten up, Lewis slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest in a gentle, protective embrace.

For a second, she stiffened—more out of surprise than anything—but then she melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. It was a simple gesture, nothing extravagant, but in that moment, it was everything.

“Alright, lover boy” she murmured, her voice laced with contentment. “What’s all this about?”

“Just holding you” he replied simply, his voice low and soothing, the kind of tone he used when it was just the two of them, no audience, no pressure. “Feels like we haven’t had a minute to ourselves in forever.”

She smiled as she found her place on the crock of his neck, her fingers absently tracing circles on the back of his neck “You’ll get them,” she promised quietly. “We’ll make time.”

Eventually, Lewis pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know,” he started, his tone teasing “about those Timbs.”

She groaned, playfully swatting at his chest. “I thought we agreed to leave the Timbs in the past.”

“I never agreed to that” he grinned, tightening his arms around her playfully. “I’m still rocking them, remember?”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face betrayed her. “Well, at least one of us has evolved.”

He laughed, pressing a soft kiss to her head. “Maybe. But you love me anyway.”

“I do,” she said softly, the sincerity of the words wrapping around them both like a warm blanket. “I really do.”

______________________________________________________________

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[mv1simp]

for anon's request: max with another driver's younger sis, same age gap <3

Girls Need Love ♥️

Max Verstappen x Sainz!Reader

girls can never say they need it, girls can never say now, oh now (give it to me like you need it, baby)

You're the youngest cousin in the Sainz family, your papa's most precious princessa. Unlike your cousins and brother, who get to openly show off their many romantic conquests, you have been raised to be demure and shy about boys. But when you meet your older brother's friend, Max, you can't control the desires within you. You want him, and you're ready to show him just how much.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, sexual tension, size kink, dom!Max, sub!Reader, 5k WC

It was no secret that your older brother, Carlos, was a notorious playboy. He gets it from his father, your tias had always gushed, he was always a ladies' man too! Growing up, you'd always see Carlos easily charm his way with younger and older women alike, his devilishly good looks just too hard to resist. And he wasn't discreet about it either - you'd had to bang many a time on the wall separating your rooms on family vacation when him and his fling of the month had been a touch too enthusiastic with their activities. Your large family would always laugh when they'd emerge from their room to join brunch, well into the late morning, and tease Carlos that the tequila and oyster paella last night must have had a kick to it, ay carino?

You'd join in on the teasing, giggling and enjoying the blush Carlos would always get when you called him el estupido rompecorazones, an idiotic heartstealer. When you were younger, you had always thought that one day your tios and tias would tease you too, on family vacation when you returned from a lazy afternoon stroll with a boyfriend, all flushed - but as you grew older, you'd accepted it as just a childhood fantasy. You weren't shy by any means (you had Spanish blood after all! A Sainz through and through) but you didn't possess that natural flirtatious nature, the ability to give those romantic smoulders that your older brother seems to have been born with. And when you focused on your career more and more, working as a sought after financial advisor to your brother and many of his athlete colleagues, you found that by age 26 you'd only had a small handful of short relationships.

The one time you'd brought a college boyfriend home - your first and only serious relationship - your father had certainly had a very different attitude towards him compared to his usual friendliness to Carlos' girlfriends. You'd told your papa afterwords how embarrassing it'd been that he had interrogated your boyfriend over dinner, wanting to know what his future plans were on a first meeting, only for him to ruffle your curls and press a kiss to your forehead to melt away the upset expression you had. Ay, mi princesa, I have to make sure all these tontos are good enough for you, hmm? You're far more precious to me than your idiota brother and cousins.

Although his words were meant to soothe your frustrations, they just made you feel uneasy - you were also a hot blooded Sainz, you also wanted to passionately love and be loved! But it seemed that as time passed and everyone around you brought their paramours to the Mallorca vacation home, you would always remain the sweet little princessa, the youngest and innocent cousin.

You'd put your love life to the side for the past year, focusing on your rapidly expanding business portfolio. So when Carlos mentioned one of his friends had signed a very generous contract this season, and needed advice of how to invest a good chunk of it, you'd immediately said yes without knowing who it was. You hadn't expected to find yourself sitting across the table from Max Verstappen. Of course, you and Max had met many times when he and Carlos had raced on the same junior team - but you'd been much younger then. You remember always thinking the serious, intense Dutch boy had been so handsome, had even developed a schoolgirl's crush on him - but as your older brother's racing team mate who was notorious for enraged outbursts, he was off limits to you in your family's eyes and had ignored you most of the time.

But now, years later, things were quite different with you being a 26 year old woman, fully matured into your gorgeous curves and thick lips, and those famous Sainz wide brown eyes, framed with long lashes. Even now though, the tall Dutchman made your heart flutter when he laughed at your apology for the delay in setting up a meeting, your idiota tonto of an older brother had conveniently forgotten to mention that his friend happened to be the current F1 world champion. You two shared a delicious lunch at the beach club overlooking the stunning Monaco marina, stimulating conversation flowing over a glass of light white wine and fresh oysters. Although you discussed various business plans, you were surprised to find how easy it was to laugh at many other things with the handsome driver, from childhood memories to how you’d found college in London to his two cats named after nightclubs and your one dog dutifully named after your childhood favourite rapper - Snoop.

You couldn't help but blush whenever Max smiled at you with his enticing lips, looking so gorgeous with his tousled blonde hair and dressed in a rare white linen shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and thick biceps.

After you'd covered the different investment options he could go for and he had selected the ones that peaked his interest, you wrapped up the business meeting by reaching into your Chanel purse to pull out your card - you always had a rule to pay for your clients and give them a first class experience.

To your surprise, Max had already given his black Amex to the waiter when you had touched up your lipgloss in the bathroom earlier. At your gentle protests, he explained that his mother would kill him if he didn't look after Carlos' younger sister - as would your father, he joked. You laughed easily with him as he walked you back to your car, a cute Mini Cooper, agreeing that yes, your papa probably would have the head of any man who didn't treat his princessa right. As you drove off, you couldn't help the longing in your heart for wanting Max to pay because he cared for you, found you to be a beautiful woman, rather than because he was looking after Carlos' younger sister.

You made sure to put those unprofessional desires to the back of your mind at your next meeting 2 weeks later, this time at your small but luxurious office in a ocean-facing building in downtown Monaco. You'd recently moved here with your small team, you explained as you greeted him at the entryway to guide him to the elevators, as so much of your clientele was based in the area. In the reflective surface of the elevator walls, you don't miss how his intense blue eyes rake down the back of your curvy figure, taking in how the dress you’d specifically chosen for today hugs you just right, especially over your ass - where his gaze lingers for a second too long.

You’re blushing again as you exit, pleased that you had drawn his attention. He remains the perfect gentleman for the rest of your meeting, listening intently as you break down the personalised investment plan your company has created for him. He’s very impressed with your selection, every option carefully curated to preference he’d mentioned at your lunch, even in passing, and presented in a minimalist layout, just as he liked it. His praise brings back the same desire and want you felt, unable to dampen it this time.

Over the next three months you meet Max to review the physical investment options you’d agreed on. If you’re being honest, this sort of task would generally be managed by a more junior executive at your small firm - but you told yourself that you were choosing to meet him yourself because he was such a VIP client, and not because you felt a rapidly growing attraction to the handsome blonde. And after touring the various developing high rise complexes or promising start up businesses that his investments were going to, you two would always end up going for lunch and a drink together afterwards. And sometimes you’d see him on his morning jogs while you walked your dog. Seeing Max kneel down to play with Snoop had been so adorable you’d asked if he knew a good bakery in the area, hoping he would join you. To your delight he did, taking you for a rich hot chocolate and freshly baked croissant that ended up happening regularly, especially once he invited you to join his group for padel. But even when you started seeing him so often, Max remained the perfect gentleman, never letting his gaze drift or hands wander after that one time in the elevator. So you reminded yourself not to read into it when he offered to show you his favourite sights of Monaco, as you’d still recently moved here, taking you for long drive along the beautiful Azure coast.

Despite your internal turmoil, you’d dressed in a pretty floral minidress, hoping he might enjoy the view of your soft thighs. But instead, you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from admiring how sexy he’d looked when driving, one hand on the wheel, showcasing his thick, veiny arms and the other resting on the console. As he’d chatted away, confidently navigating the winding roads, you couldn’t help but wonder what he’d do if you redirected his large hand to grip your thigh instead. You’d instantly blushed when you heard him calling your name, realising that you’d tuned him out and blamed it on the heat. So he took an exit and next thing you were enjoying the most delicious strawberry gelato you’d tasted, moaning from the taste and licking up a rivulet that had run down your hand. When you looked over to Max to thank him for introducing this place, you have to hold back a gasp at how hungrily his gaze is fixed on your pouting lips. But then the sun catches your eye at a sharp angle and you blink, and when you look again the look is gone and he’s laughing at the sight of Snoop desperately trying to lick your ice cream out the car window.

Your poor little heart can’t take all this one sided attraction, you desperately needed to know if Max felt any desire to you like you felt for him. So a couple of weeks later, when you were meeting him for the last official signing of asset acquisitions at one of the downtown Monaco high rise buildings, you make sure you’re wearing another one of your irresistible dresses in an effort to catch his eye. As you reach past him to grab the pen he’d sign with, you can’t resist pressing your soft, plush tits against his large bicep, which looked so good again in a half zipped knit sweater. His gaze automatically flickers down to your low cut sweetheart neckline, lingering on your cleavage pushed against him a beat to long to be considered polite, before he draws his attention back up to your blushing face, to your pink glossed lips that you now bite. You don't miss the dark hunger swirling in his blue eyes, the tension thickening and sparks crackling, his hand reaching up to brush your cheek as both of you lean in-

Then your phone rings, your brother's contact photo lighting up the screen, ruining the moment. You curse internally at Carlos for cockblocking you even when he wasn't physically present, but you take his call just in case it was important (it wasn't. The idiota just wanted to complain about how Spain had lost the football to England). When you furiously whisper at Carlos to shut the hell up before hanging up and turning back around, Max is back to the almost infuriating gentleman self he is around you, handing you the signed papers with a polite smile. You try not to let the disappointment on your face show, because you couldn't figure out why the Dutchman didn't seem interested in pursuing you when you'd seen him out at the Monaco clubs, arms around pretty girls and flirting easily. Did he not find you pretty like he found them?

After the paperwork is all done and Max is walking you back to your car, he offers to take you out for a final celebration, this time an intimate dinner instead of your usual sunny beachside lunches. You spent the better part of an hour trying to pick the most tempting outfit, and then another hour applying your makeup to flatter your already pretty, dark features. You wanted to look absolutely perfect for him, knowing this might be the last chance you'd have in a while to use work as an excuse. And when Max saw you walk out as he leaned against his sleek discreet black Audi, you couldn't stop the pleased flush that spread across your cheeks when he raked his gaze over your short form, taking in how the elegant burgundy full length dress clung to your curves, complimenting you on how lovely you looked tonight, even more so than usual. You sweetly returned the compliment, which wasn't hard to do as Max looked so handsome in a baby blue button up and fitted pants, his broad muscles and large frame perfectly highlighted for you to ogle.

And after intimate Spanish dinner over soft candelight, laughing and sharing your latest stories of the week, enjoying more than a single glass of red wine for once, you couldn't help but hope that this would be it, the night where something finally happened between the two of you, because surely Max had just been holding back out of professional boundaries, yes? So after Max generously paid for dinner - as per usual - you accepted his offer to drive you home. The gold sparkly heels you'd worn worked very well to make your ass pop even more as you confidently walked - something that you made sure to capitalise on by walking ahead of Max as you left the restaurant.

And you'd been so sure all signs pointed to romance when he pulled up in front of your apartment, and you asked if he'd like to come enjoy the night view from your balcony with another glass of wine, and he'd briefly hesitated before saying Yes, of course, Schatje. You beam at him, melting at his use of the Dutch nickname, which he'd told you meant sweetheart when you'd curiously asked him when he began absentmindedly calling you that a few weeks ago. And it felt so natural to be up on your balcony with him, giggling with a bottle of wine after trashing him at Monopoly, sitting so close that you could feel his warmth radiating through his shirt as you kicked off your heels and sat down on the outdoor settee. And when he continued talking easily about all the ways he was certain you cheated when you lean your head against his strong shoulder, you took it as another promising sign. But then, when you'd looked up at him with your brown doe eyes and thick lashes, desperately hoping he would lean in because you thought the moment had been right - you'd only been met with disappointment after a long, long moment when he turned his soft blue eyes away. He’d tensed, saying he was sorry for keeping you up so late, he should head off now - avoiding your gaze as your eyes swelled as you watched him leave out the front door.

You didn’t see Max for the next two weeks after that, avoiding walking your usual weekend route or tagging along to the padel games. You felt so embarrassed that perhaps you’d read the signals wrong, and also so frustrated that you couldn’t be more like your older brother who had no problem flirting blatantly with others or giving them an open mouthed kiss. Would Max even like a girl who did that? Wasn’t he meant to make the first move as proof that he wanted you? Glumly, you moped about at work and at home, watching Bridgerton and eating strawberry ice cream out of the carton. When your family chat blew up as it approached the time of the year where you’d all meet up and spend time at the Mallorca home, you had already texted that you weren’t coming - but then found yourself having to answer multiple angry calls in Spanish from various relatives and decided it was just easier to give in.

Packing a bag with the essentials - sunglasses, bikinis and raunchy romance novels - you headed to the vacation home a week early to unwind and prepare yourself for the chaos that was your loving family, knowing that everyone would turn up with their latest boyfriend and girlfriend and you’d be teased about how you were too sweet and shy as usual. Sweet and shy your ass, you thought moodily, sipping on a frozen margarita you made as you lounged in a bikini by the pool.

Schatje?

You whirl around, thinking you were imaging things now, but there Max stood, looking as hot as ever in that favourite white linen shirt of yours. And it was open down the front too, revealing his toned broad chest to you for the first time. You got so distracted that you didn’t hear him the first time asking what you were doing there - to which you had to each arch a brow and haughtily reply that this was the Sainz family home, shouldn't he explain why he was here?

Turns out Carlos had apparently thought Max was too keyed up the past few weeks and getting twitchily close to the Ferraris on race weekends. So your idiota brother had tossed him the spare keys to unwind in the empty villa before everyone showed up - except for you. But I’ll leave, you were here first - Max had said, but you sighed, still wanting to be an accomodating host like your family had raised you to be, despite your hurt feelings, and generously said the villa was huge, you two could easily just stay out of each other’s way?

So you did both stay, keeping to opposite ends of the villa - at least for the first few hours, anyway. Max had been unable to resist the smell of the enchiladas you’d cooked up for dinner and you hadn’t been able to stop drinking the ice cold G&Ts he poured whenever you asked. And a couple of days passed like that, you two easily slipping into friendship again, ignoring the tension on your balcony from last time. But seeing Max in your summer home stirred up that desire within you, made you ache for him and leave your bikini bottoms all sticky and wet after you’d stare at his shirtless, muscley back from behind your sunglasses all afternoon. It was pathetic, really, that you had the real man right there in front of you but couldn’t seem to charm him.

And the torture didn’t stop even when he was out of your sight, when you woke up flushed in the middle of the night, heady from the pleasure of a recurrent dream you’d been having lately about a certain tall blonde Dutchman having his way with you as he bent you over your office desk and dirtily whispered a you going to let me cum inside you, schatje? Instead of helplessly pining, you decided to give your frustrated little pussy some well deserved relief that night. Opening your French doors out the the garden, you made yourself comfortable on the soft outdoor sofa on the patio as you slid up your silky nightdress and took your favourite bullet vibrator right where you ached the most. It was risky, sure - but it was your house, and it was far too hot in the summer heat to get worked up indoors. Besides, Max was asleep, all the way on the other side of the villa. There was no chance of him hearing what you were doing this many doors down.

So that’s why you didn’t hold your sweet moans back, getting louder and louder, eyes fluttering shut from the delicious pleasure your toy was bringing you, moaning his name on your lips just like you’d been doing in the dream. What you hadn't yet realised was that Max was very accustomed to being up at odd hours, gaming and sim racing away - but the summer heat had been intolerable as he ran warm anyway. And you certainly didn’t notice that your pretty show had caught the attention of the very man it was dedicated to, who was out on a late night walk to cool off.

He’d planned on minding his own business, truly, when he’d seen you throw your head back in pleasure - knowing that you were forbidden fruit as Carlo's little sister, having grown up protected and so naively experienced to the world of sin Max had been exposed to. You were far too precious, too pure, for someone as destructive and aggressive as him to touch. Really, he had planned on walking right back to his room, taking a cold shower and maybe jerking off to hypnotising image of you in a silk slip under the moonlight.

But then he heard you breathily call his name, your sweet voice calling out for Maxie, all high pitched as you remained lost in your fantasy. It’s what you’d called him when you were little, watching him admiringly from the junior Redbull garage as he and Carlos walked back from a race.

All shreds of self control he’d had to avoid getting involved with his friend’s sweet, protected younger sister - all got tossed aside. So when you became frustrated with your toy, biting your lip and scrunching your eyebrows cutely because it just wasn’t hitting the way you wanted - he couldn’t resist huskily asking if you want to try out the real thing, prinses?

You gasped, snapping your soft thighs closed and jolting upright, only to look horrified as you saw Max leaning against the patio railing, thick arms crossed across his shirtless figure. His hungry gaze and wicked smirk made it clear he’d seen you playing with your most intimate parts while moaning his name like a desperate little slut. You’d stammered out an apology, trying to talk your way out of the shameless scene, half painfully embarrassed and half furious he'd watched you so intensely even though he'd rejected you before. Max tilts his head, expression unreadable as he takes in your weak excuses. To your surprise, he stalks forward, standing in front of your seated form, murmuring that if you were truly sorry you’d make it up to him by picking up where you'd left off your cute little show.

You blinked, face flushed, asking him confusedly that you didn’t understand, you’d thought that he wasn’t interested in you, hadn’t found you pretty, after all the months of tension he’d walked away on the balcony-

Oh, schatje, Max sighed, large palm reaching out to brush your plush cheeks as he looked down at your upset face, his finger lingering against your pouting lips. I wanted you the moment I saw you in that black dress at our very first lunch. Your doe eyes widened as he continues, explaining how truly, he’d held back on his twisted desires for his friend's little sister, who he was expected to look after - but instead had been having filthy thoughts about, hmm? He’d used his other hand to palm the growing bulge then, making you gasp at the size even though his sweats. The things I’ve been thinking about, sweet girl…they're far too dirty for such a pure angel like you.

Heat spread through your body at his words, a dusty pink flush on your face. Shyly, you spread your legs wide open again, letting him see all of you, all of the wetness that dripped down as you weren’t wearing any panties underneath your nightdress. You wanted to show him just how much you wanted this, how you weren’t some precious little doll that everyone thought you were. So even though it made you blush furiously, you looked right at him as you leaned back on the settee and slowly slid a cute manicured finger down your slit before entering yourself. The desire in Max's wide pupils was obvious as you moaned his name again, coyly mentioning that you'd always wondered if he'd be able to better stretch you out, your tiny fingers and toys couldn’t do the job?

You finally break him then, and he growls and bends down to pull you towards him, his broad shoulders blocking out the sky but his sea blue eyes just as gorgeous to look at as the stars. You giggle at how enamoured he looks gazing down at you, but then you’re gasping into his mouth as he leans down to capture your lips with his. And your gasps turn to moans as the filthy kiss previews what comes next. Soon his lips are trailing down your delicate neck, over your sensitive tan nipples that Max swirls his skilled tongue around, murmuring that your tits were so goddamn pretty as his large hands squeeze the juicy flesh. You’re tangling your fingers in his soft hair as he teasingly sucks on your hardened nubs, arching into his mouth and tossing your head back.

And his wet kisses move lower, over your thick hips, and then he’s blowing softly over your exposed dripping pussy, holding your soft thighs open with a strong grip. Then he’s leaving slow licks up your dripping slit with a broad swipe as he chuckles that he’d been dreaming about this, too.

It’s all too much for you and you’re cumming all over his wicked tongue, and then his wide fingers, and then - once you beg for it and make his ears go pink from hearing you moan Maxie - you also cum all over his thick cock. It’s just as pretty and swollen as you’d fantasied about, splitting you open in a way no man had ever been able to before. You’re screaming and squirting around it, eyes rolling back at the mind blowing pleasure you’re finally recieving.

He kisses you sweetly after you both have had your fill of multiple rounds, murmuring how good you’d been for him, how much he loved it, loved you. You blush under the praise and fall asleep on his broad chest, still lying there on the outdoor settee and enjoying the warmth of his muscled arms protecting you from the cool night’s breeze.

And when morning comes you’re suddenly anxious that it was just a one time thing, that he would tell you he disliked it, that he should never have slept with Carlos’ sister. But to your delight it it seems Max had been holding back on how much he’d been falling for you too. He shows you just how much after the two of you go for a swim in the azure seawater and eat a lazy brunch by the pool. He’s raking his heated gaze shamelessly over your juicy ass, droplets still drying off as you lounge on the sunbed in a little bikini. You’ve barely finished your mango smoothie when he’s yanking the knots and palming greedily with his large hands. Fuck, do you know how many times I thought about ripping open those tight dresses of yours and doing this?

You smirk rather smugly and turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, where he’s begun sliding his raging erection along your bouncy cheeks, your soft flesh enveloping the hard length. Why do you think I wore them? You respond teasingly. Definitely not what I normally wear to a client meeting.

He growls, speeding up his thrusts along your fat cheeks and delivering harsh smack to your ass as punishment for your seductive techniques. You squeal excitedly from the tingles shooting to your clit from his forceful slap. You jiggle your hips tantalisingly, pushing back on him and he licks his lips before delivering more harsh smacks to your quickly reddening ass. You moan wantonly, ass lifted up in the air and your blushing face buried deep in a cushion when he splatters his cum all over your back, coating your caramel skin.

You swipe a finger through it to teasingly lick it up, sultrily commented on how tasty his cum was. His eyes widen at your unexpected dirty words, blood rushing to his cock again. And then you’re walking off to go prep dinner ingredients, letting him enjoy the view of your bouncing bum and leaving him on edge. He’d certainly made you wait, after all. A Sainz was nothing if not petty when they wanted to be. You play nice that afternoon, before springing your attack in the evening by slyly asking him if he’d teach you how to please him with your mouth next?

He’d choked on his empanada, his expression cutely flustered at the pleasurable idea. You’d fluttered your lashes and said please, Maxie, I want to make you feel good like you did to me last night and he was a goner when he looked into your brown doe eyes. So he taught you, his fingers threading through your pretty curls as you look up adoringly at him from where you kneeled. He quickly realised that although your eyes looked wide and innocent, your sweet mouth was anything but.

Safe to say, when your family finally joined you later on and took one look at how their princessa had ensared a 6 foot Dutch millionaire who followed her around like a lovesick puppy, you eared a new nickname. El tentadora de Monaco. You’d giggled from your seat in Max’s warm lap, ignoring the bewildered gaze of the idiota Carlos as even your father had given the new couple his blessing. The temptress of Monaco had a nice ring to it, sí?

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed anon!! As always lmk what you think and feel free to send more requests!!

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Teach Me How To Play Coach Miller

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Austin Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 3,275 Summary: You're home alone, relishing a lazy day when your hot neighbor knocks on your door. Seems his TV is out and he really wants to watch the Rangers game. You know nothing about baseball... maybe he can teach you a thing or two? Warnings: smut, porn with very little plot, age gap (reader's college aged, Joel's in his 30's), oral (f & m receiving), unprotected p in v, riding, baseball terms, Joel's a filthy liar but it benefits all of us, mentions of voyeurism and masturbation, big balls Joel Miller in gray sweatpants, no use of y/n, not beta read.

Masterlist

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It’s another famous hot September afternoon in Texas. Too damn hot to do anything besides walk outside, roll your eyes at the sweltering temperature, turn around and walk back inside. The thick humidity and overbearing heat makes your skin slick and clothing stick in all the wrong places– or maybe the right places– it depends on who’s looking. 

A ring of the doorbell interrupts your lazy day movie marathon. The house is yours for the weekend, your roommates are all gone for a festival and your coursework is all done, so naturally you’re laid on the couch taking a reprieve from the overbearing temperature.

Another ring.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you grumble. 

You open the door, your knees buckling at your bad luck.

GOD DAMNIT. OF COURSE IT’S JOEL MILLER. *THE* JOEL MILLER. The hot DILF you and your roomies all lust after. The broad, golden skinned GOD of a man that you all argue over who’s going to get to bed one day. 

“Joel? H-hey,” you say, attempting to hide your embarrassment over how you look. It’s 4 PM and you’re still wearing what you woke up in… an oversized Rangers shirt of your ex-boyfriend’s over a pair of lace boyshorts… it’s too freakin’ hot for actual clothes. 

“Afternoon–uh–so my cable box just stopped working and it’s the clenching game for the playoffs,” he nervously huffs, putting a hand to the back of his neck. “I know it’s crazy to ask, but can I watch the game on your TV?” He lifts a six pack of beer enticingly, “I brought this as payment.”

“Oh,” your eyes widen in surprise. Joel Miller… on your couch? Yes! Joel Miller on your couch! You open the door wider and step aside to let him in. “Of course, make yourself at home.” 

He walks into your house… this is a dream come true, he’s in GRAY SWEATPANTS and they hug his thick body perfectly. 

You take a precursory look around your living room, silently thanking yourself for picking up the house yesterday. Now the hunk of a neighbor you’ve touched yourself to while watching him mow his lawn is closer to you than he’s ever been.

You quickly stroll over to the coffee table, picking up the remote and handing it to him. 

“Thanks for this, appreciate it sweetheart,” Joel says, sitting on the couch, taking up a whole cushion with his broad body. 

Ohhhh, sweetheart. His eyes darken at the sight of your breath hitching, before his eyes gaze lowers to your bare legs. 

“Yeah, o-of course,” you nod, feeling very underdressed with your handsome neighbor taking a seat on the couch you were just laid out on a few minutes ago. “I’ll go get an opener.”

Joel turns the game on and settles his back against the couch cushions, “Thanks sweetheart.” 

__

The ceiling fan chains clang against one another, it only does this on high, it drives you crazy but the soft breeze it sends down is worth the annoyance. Your skin’s too overheated sitting only a couch cushion’s length away from Joel. Your foot nervously taps against the carpet while you try to focus on the book you’re reading. You’re overwhelmed by his presence, hearing his lips form around the beer bottle and taking a swig, the movement of his body against the couch cushions, the smell of wood and coffee he’s brought into the house. You sigh, turning your attention to the game, maybe today’s the day you’ll learn about America’s pastime. 

“Why is it called a shortstop? Do they have to be short?” You ask putting your book down. 

“No,” Joel chuckles, “s’just what the position is called.” 

“Ah, and every team has one?”

“Yes,” he shakes his head, “what exactly do you know about this game, sweetheart?”

“Um, I know I like their tight pants.” 

“Oh really?” Joel looks over at you, crooking his eyebrow up. 

“Yep, and the guy throwing the ball is really tall and cute.”

“That’s called a pitcher sweetheart,” he shakes his head at your ignorance.

“And he throws to the…” your finger taps your cheek while you mock contemplation, “catcher?” 

“That’s right,” he nods, his voice dropping an octave. “What else do you know?”

“I know there’s bases and home runs, adorable mascots and Cracker Jacks.”  

“What bases?”

“Hmm. First base, second base, third base, and home.”

“Good girl,” he grins, “you’re a smart girl.”

“I know I am,” you smugly smile at him. “First base is kissing. Second base is above the waist, third base is bel—“

Joel’s laugh cuts you off. “Is that right? Seems you know all about baseball, you’ve… ‘played baseball’ before?” 

“Mm,” you lean towards him, “I like playing baseball… I just haven’t in a few months… you know besides practicing with myself.”

He shakes his head, a devilish smirk lights his face as he angles his body towards you. “You practice a lot?”

“Yeah, especially when my hot neighbor is outside mowing his lawn and he gets all sweaty. My bedroom window looks right out on his lawn.” Joel’s eyes widen at the realization that you’re talking about him. “Sometimes he lifts the hem of his shirt and wipes his brow, I get to see a peek of his stomach, it’s super hot.”

“Funny,” he puts his beer bottle down and licks his lips. “I have a hot neighbor too. I’ve, uh, ‘practiced’ before while thinking about how good she looks running in her tight shorts and tiny tank top.” 

Your core begins to pulse at his words, desire lights inside your body. Joel Miller has noticed you *and* gets off to the thought of you?! And now, he’s on your couch, sending you a lascivious look. Let’s ball. 

“Can I play?” you ask, head tilted with a smirk before scooting closer to him.

“Yeah?” his eyebrows crook up. “You want to play with an old man like me?” 

You nod. “Put me in coach.”

“Batter up baby,” he growls, grabbing and lifting you to straddle his lap. You’re thankful for your measly lace panties, less layers between you and Joel’s dick. “You wanna show me first base?”

You gulp, pouty lips agape begging to be kissed by Joel Miller. “First base,” you nuzzle your nose against his, “is kissing.”

“Mm,” he nips at your bottom lip, “then kiss me, pretty girl.”

You pull away, angling your head to look at the TV. “But what about the game?”

“They’re losing by four,” he grabs your chin, turning your head back towards him. “Plus, I don’t think it’s possible to care about the game when a pretty girl like you is on my lap.”

Leaning forward, you plant a soft kiss and suck his plush bottom lip into your mouth. Your heart flutters inside your chest when his mouth opens inviting you to lick into it as he lifts the hem of your shirt. 

You swipe his hand away, “Not at second base yet.”

“Fuck,” he pants. “Been wanting to see you since you moved in last year.”

His confession rolls through your body, sending waves of want through your limbs. You want to rock your hips against him, you want to feel your bare skin against his, you want to feel him inside you, but you also love the game you’re playing and it’s not just every day your hot neighbor comes over to watch a ballgame and winds up with his tongue in your mouth.  

You deepen the kiss, moaning against his lips as your tongues collide and explore each other’s mouths. Raucous shouting of the announcers on the TV interrupts your makeout session.

“Mmph, will you look at that? Rangers just hit a grand slam ’n tied the game. You wanna celebrate now?” Joel grabs the hem of your shirt and angles his eyebrow up.

“Show me second base Joel.”

Your shirt is lifted and tossed aside, your nipples pebble under the cool fan air and Joel’s attention. He stares, eyes wide in astonishment as he takes your bare chest in. 

“Second base is above the waist stuff,” you direct. His large, calloused hands mold around the weight of your flesh. 

“Mm, knew you’d be soft,” he rasps in awe. His touch drives you crazy, just an hour ago, you were dozing off on the couch to Romy & Michelle’s High School Reunion, now Joel Miller is holding your tits in his hands. He rubs the tips of his thumbs back and forth across your nipples. “Can I use my mouth on you baby?” he asks, his gaze moving from your chest to your eyes pleadingly. 

“God yes,” you pant, rising up to bring your chest to his mouth. He clasps his lips around your nipple, sucking and pulling, swirling his tongue around the peak before letting it go with a pop. Your back arches, your weight settling firmer against him when he nips his way across your chest, taking your other breast into his mouth and suckling. Your hands snake underneath his shirt and run across the plush of his stomach petting your hands across the smattering of hair across his belly. 

Joel buries his face between your breasts, breathing you in and groaning against your skin, his hands grab your hips and push your body firmer against his half hard cock still clad in his sweatpants.

He’s fully dressed, your teensy pair of lace panties do very little to stop your cunt from dripping onto the light gray fabric of his sweatpants. Your hips begin to grind against the shape of him, begging for contact. He ruts his hips up to tap against your core pulling a moan from you. 

He snickers teasingly, “We goin’ to third base already baby?”

You whimper a measly yes, rocking yourself harder against him. Fuck the pace of game, it’s going to be a quick one. You’re so needy for him, you can’t believe this is happening with Joel “hot dad” Miller. Your roommates are never going to believe you. 

You reach for the hem of his shirt, bunching it up before he chucks it off and throws it across the couch. You lean back, eyes widening at the sight of him. Good LORD, he’s perfect. His skin glows in the late afternoon light beaming in from the front window. His shoulders and arms are toned from all of the manual labor you always watch him accomplish. Your hands roam his soft muscles, exploring the plains of his body. He’s the whole fucking package. He looks at you with a smug smirk while you take him in. 

You want to taste him and see if he tastes like the sweat and sunlight. Your lips find his collarbone, licking and sucking, tasting the slight salt of the sweat the heat leaves on everybody’s skin on days like today. Delectable.

His throat groans against your tongue, he shivers underneath you, you’ve never wanted someone so badly before. 

“Fuck me,” you plead against his skin, “please.”

“Not yet, not yet baby, we’re still at third, you’re still learning all about baseball. I need to enjoy a game as sweet as you,” he implores, sliding a hand between your legs and petting your soaked panties. “This all for me?” 

“Yesss,” you hiss, licking your way up through his scratchy beard to his mouth. 

You gasp against his lips when he slides a thick finger inside. He chuckles a deep breath against your mouth, “So fucking wet aren’t you pretty girl?” 

Your only answer is a garbled moan and a clench around his second finger that stretches you. 

His fingers languidly fuck you while his thumb teases soft circles against your clit, you’re writhing from his touch, breathing mews into the air. He licks into your mouth swallowing every shattered breath that escapes from your throat. So many nights you’ve fallen asleep to the thought of this moment laying alone in your bed, gazing out the window at the Miller household. What would Joel Miller’s overworked hands and plush mouth feel like against your body? Well, now you know, and it feels even better than you could have ever imagined.  

He licks his way down to your neck, asking “Can I taste you?” against your skin. 

“Yes,” you cry out. 

Joel lifts you with a grunt and lays you down against the couch cushions. He stands over you, running a hand across your body, mapping his way from your breasts down your stomach to the trim of your panties.

“You’re gorgeous,” he muses, his eyes turning black as he pulls your panties down, exposing your pussy to him. You spread your legs open encouraged by the possessiveness of his stare. He tosses your underwear behind him before settling on the couch between your legs with a deep growl. Your legs are lifted over his shoulders. “Fuck,” he sighs, planting a kiss against your thigh, “you’re so fucking hot. Let’s get to third base sweetheart.”

His eyes flutter shut at the first taste of you when he parts your folds with his tongue. Everything about Joel Miller is wide- his fingers, his shoulders, his chest. Right now, his wide tongue is driving you crazy as it swirls against your clit. He devours you, licking and laving all over your drooling pussy, drinking you down and savoring you like you’re his last meal. His eyes stay on your face the whole time, watching you fall apart against his mouth. Your fingers wrap around the dark waves of his hair pulling him in closer, hips undulating against his mouth getting yourself off on the feel of the bristle of his beard against your sensitive flesh. His tongue flattens and runs up and down the shape of you before he dips two fingers into your entrance and buries them knuckles deep. Your back curves at the overwhelming sensation of his tongue on your clit as your soaked walls clench around his thick fingers. 

“Mm, close,” you whimper while your feet thud repeatedly against his strong back. He nods against your core, dark brown eyes still focused on your face. Your heart races at the way he watches you under his thick eyebrows creased in concentration. Of course Joel Miller is good at eating pussy, he’s a hard worker. You wail his name out when you orgasm against his mouth, your body tightens as you flood his fingers and throb for him. He kisses your swollen clit gently, letting a deep moan and chuckle out while you spasm underneath him. 

Joel’s face glistens with you when he lifts his head up, “Welcome to third base.” 

“You haven’t gotten here yet,” you arch an eyebrow and lick your parted lips, still panting for air.

He kisses each thigh with a loud smack before getting up. 

He looms over your blissed out body on the couch and yanks down his pants and boxers, a gulp rolls down your throat at the sight of him. So fucking thick and engorged with a sweet drop of precum rolling down his shaft.

“Wow,” you gasp, rolling to your side to bring yourself eye level to his twitching cock. Your eyebrows rise in awe when he wraps his hand around himself and strokes.

“Yeah?” his voice smolders through you. 

“I’ve thought about what you looked like naked, and now that I see it… wow.” You can’t believe the confession just left your mouth.

“Funny,” he collects a drop of precum on his fingertip and rubs it against your bottom lip,” I thought the same thing.”

Your tongue darts out to taste him, salty, bitter, so fucking manly. You want to taste more of him. 

You bring your lips to the crown of his cock, kissing the tip and running your tongue along the length of his shaft. He gasps, leaning forward to rest his hands on the sofa back. 

“Fuck sweetheart, that’s good,” he drawls when you suck him into your mouth engulfing the thick length of him in the wet heat of your mouth. 

You cup the heft of his balls in your hand… thick cock, big balls, of course Joel Miller has big balls. 

“You’re good at this sweetheart, really fucking good,” he huffs, rubbing his thumb against your cheek as you hollow them and suck him to the back of your throat. 

Your eyes flutter up to watch Joel snarl down at you while his hips buck into your drooling mouth.

“Can’t keep lookin’ at me like that sweetheart, or else we’re not going to get to homebase.”

Your pussy clenches at his words, begging to be filled like your mouth. It’s as if Joel can read your mind, his hand lands in between your thighs and begins petting your aching cunt. 

“Feels like she needs to have my cock in her, doesn’t she?” he says, tapping his fingers against your entrance. “Think maybe we should get to homebase?”

He pulls his cock out of your mouth and lifts you off the couch into his arms, he’s so fucking strong. 

He leaves a searing kiss on your lips before settling on the couch, still holding you close to him. 

“You ready for homebase?” he asks, gazing into your eyes. 

“Put me in coach, I’m ready to play,” you smile, giddy at the anticipation of getting fucked by Joel Miller.

“Go ahead sweetheart, fuck me,” his drawl drips in arousal as you slowly sink yourself down on him, gasping at the feel of his thick cock stretching you. 

Your hips rock back and forth to adjust to the size of him spreading you open. 

“Knew you’d feel so good sweetheart, knew it as soon as I saw you,” he says, peppering kisses across your face and neck. “So pretty, so soft, feels so fucking good.”

Joel Miller always seemed too intimidating, too closed off, too attractive to ever be interested in a neighbor much too young for him, and yet here he is ignoring the baseball game he wanted to watch, instead burying his cock into your pussy.

You ride him, your pace turning more frenzied and desperate the more he chants your name.

The ticks of the fan chains clanging against one another accompanies the sound of your pussy bouncing up and down on his dick. Hips meeting hips, skin hitting skin, breath gasping breath, chain knocking chain. Your fingers wrap around his curls pulling his head up to kiss you. Your breaths puff against his, you can’t hide the blissed out smile that lights up your whole face as he pounds into you.

Your body begins to tingle and quiver when his cock hits the gushy spot that makes you see stars. 

“That’s it baby, that’s it,” Joel grits against your neck biting and sucking, marking you with his mouth and owning you with his cock. 

You scream a choked sob when your orgasm lights through you, your walls clutch Joel’s cock as you come undone. He grips you harder, pushing you into his chest and holding you as close as he can with his tense muscles as he lifts you and pulls out painting your pussy lips with his cum. You collapse against him, gasping for air against his sweaty skin, darting your tongue out to lick some of the sweet salt so you can always remember the taste of playing ball with Joel Miller. 

“Can I tell you something?” Joel asks, his voice radiates through your ear resting against his chest. 

“Hmm? Yeah,” you sigh.

“My TV still works,” he sheepishly says. You sit up at the shock of his words. “I just really wanted to watch the game with a pretty girl.” He sends you a sultry, guilty smirk that you cover with your lips. 

___ Tagging people who showed interest in my WIP a couple weeks ago for this. Along with my camp coven friends who helped.

@luxurychristmaspudding, @sizzlingcloudmentality, @sawymredfox, @magpiepills, @yxtkiwiyxt

@beefrobeefcal, @ace-turned-confused, @yopossum, @mothandpidgeon, @bitchesuntitled

@maggiemayhemnj, @jennaispunk, @timelordfreya

[flowersforbucky]

all's well that ends well to end up with you

bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky isn't going to let an extended mission, a severe thunderstorm, and a delayed flight ruin your first valentine's day together.

word count: 3.8k

warnings/tags: SMUT, 18+ only mdni, oral (m&f receiving), fingering, nipple play, reader is afab, established relationship, no use of y/n, reader is described as being shorter than bucky, fluffy as hell, sweet domesticity

wrote this for my bb @embbarnes 💕 happy (very early) valentine's day, everyone!

Of all the ways you had been hoping to spend the last few hours of Valentine’s Day, over 30,000 feet in the air next to a snoring man who has never heard of deodorant was at the bottom of your list.

You should have seen it coming from the moment that your two day mission was extended to a three day mission, but you naively held out hope that you’d be able to make it back home in time to salvage the second half of the day.

Getting back early enough to keep the seven o’clock dinner reservations that you’d made for a new, upscale steakhouse in Brooklyn would have been possible if a last minute thunderstorm hadn’t delayed your flight back to New York.

Now it’s already half past seven, and you’ll be lucky if you make it back home before midnight.

Truthfully, you don’t care about the dinner reservations. Sure, you’d heard great things about the food and you had been excited to go, but you could easily reschedule the reservations for another time. The only thing that you were truly bummed about was not getting to spend the day with Bucky.

Today is your first Valentine’s Day as a couple, and instead of spending it with him, you’re spending it on a commercial flight with dozens of strangers. You can’t help but wonder how many of them are missing their significant other, too.

If you’d had it your way, you would have woken up to his face this morning. The two of you would have slept in as late as you desired, and had a slow, lazy morning before cooking him brunch. Waffles, sausage and bacon, scrambled eggs with extra cheese and hot sauce – all of his favorites. You would have taken a stroll through the park before stopping at the bakery that you frequent for doughnuts and coffee, and maybe visited the botanical gardens before your dinner reservations this evening.

Bucky had assured you that it wasn’t a big deal and that the two of you would make up for it when you were back home. He patiently reminded you that life doesn’t take holidays and special occasions into consideration when dishing out things such as extended work trips and inclement weather conditions.

Valentine’s Day aside, you simply miss him. You’ve been missing him since the moment you left for Nebraska, and you’re more than ready to be back in his arms. This is not the first time you’ve been apart due to work related trips, but this is by far the longest – a whopping seven days.

You miss the way he wants to keep at least one hand on you throughout the night, the way he talks to Alpine as if she will actually respond, and the way that he hums without even noticing that he’s doing it. All of the seemingly little things that you don’t think much of on a day to day basis, but when you’re apart, make you miss him all the more.

By the time your flight lands in New York and you catch an Uber back to your apartment, it’s nearly eleven o’clock. Bucky, of course, had offered to pick you up from the airport, but you had insisted that you were okay with getting an Uber, not wanting him to get out so late at night in the heavy rain.

Plus, if he had picked you up, it would have ruined your plan to surprise him by stopping by his favorite pizza parlor down the block from your apartment on your way home. Sal’s Pizzeria is always open until midnight, and every year they run specials the entire week of Valentine’s Day on heart-shaped pizzas.

Knowing Bucky, he’s likely been living off of instant Ramen since you left for your trip, so you figure he’ll be ecstatic over a late night pizza. Not to mention, you’re famished yourself – all you’ve eaten since lunch being the pack of Biscoff cookies you’d been given on the plane.

Lugging your suitcase, a backpack, and the large pizza box, you fumble with your keys before unlocking the door and stepping inside.

At first, you assume that Bucky is already asleep. But as you walk down the short hallway, you realize there’s soft music playing from somewhere in the apartment. You don't think much of it, since you know that Bucky prefers playing music as opposed to the television for background noise.

It’s almost completely dark, minus low orange lighting that trickles into the hallway from the kitchen.

“I’m home, baby,” you call softly as you approach the kitchen’s entryway. “I know it’s late, but I brought you some pizza, if you're hun—”

You stop dead in your tracks when you step into the kitchen. Dozens of tea light candles illuminate the room, placed strategically on the island in the middle of the room. And on the countertops, and the shelves – basically any flat surface twinkles with the delicate flames.

You stand frozen as a statue with your mouth agape as you take in the scene before you. In addition to the candles, there’s a spread of food across the island. Plates of delicious smelling pasta, small bowls of soup and glasses of red wine. Tied to the backs of the barstools are red and pink heart-shaped balloons.

It looks straight out of a romance movie.

“Pizza pairs well with pasta, I think,” Bucky's voice breaks you out of your trance. “Can never have too many carbs.”

Your gaze snaps over to where he emerges from the den. He wears a bashful smile, and even in the low glow of the candlelight, you can see the faint hint of blush blooming across the apples of his cheeks. He has his hands behind his back, as if trying to conceal something from you.

“You did all of this?” You ask lamely. Your voice is barely a whisper and contains a noticeable quiver. “For me?”

You can’t wrap your brain around it. No one has ever done anything quite like this for you. All of your ex boyfriends always shrugged off Valentine’s Day, leaving you feeling lucky if you got so much as a card. You’d long ago learned not to expect much of anything. Definitely not anything as intimate and thoughtful as this.

“Of course for you,” he murmurs with a low chuckle. He saunters over to where you’re still standing with the pizza box clutched in your hands, and pulls what appears to be a bouquet of flowers in a large mason jar out from behind his back.

“Who else would it be for? Alpine?” He teases, extending the jar to you. You plop the box onto the counter so that your hands are free to accept the flowers.

Upon closer inspection, you realize the bouquet of flowers are not real flowers.

Well, yes and no – they’re wildflowers, made of out Legos. You can’t help but giggle, remembering how you had mentioned how cute you think the Lego set is when you saw it while buying some groceries at Target a few weeks ago. You giggle even harder when you picture Bucky assembling all of the tiny pieces of the bouquet with his large, vibranium fingers.

Your eyes begin to well with tears that threaten to spill over. You quickly blink them back, not wanting to show just how emotional the ornate, colorful arrangement of plastic flowers is making you.

Not just the bouquet – all of it. The food and the wine, the balloons, the candles, the forties music playing lowly from the record player in the living room – the sheer amount of time and attention that he put into creating such a romantic display, and all from the comfort of your home.

“They’re perfect,” you murmur, wiping away a stray tear with sleeve of your sweater. You place the mason jar of the plastic flowers in the midst of the spread of food in front of you, making the scene complete.

“It’s all perfect.” He opens his arms to you, and you happily melt into his embrace. He smells of his familiar earthy cologne, and you can’t help but inhale deeply, relishing in the comfort of his scent and warmth.

Even if you’d come home to him passed out in bed, you would’ve been ecstatic to just crawl under the covers beside him. All of this is more than you ever would have hoped for.

“All I got you is a lousy heart-shaped meat lovers pizza,” you sniffle against his t-shirt and you feel his chest vibrate with laughter. You know that you have the reasonable excuse of being on an assignment in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere Nebraska for the last week, but you still feel bad.

“Hey,” he murmurs, using his index finger to tilt your face to look up at him. He grins down at you for a moment before tenderly pressing his lips against yours. You melt into him right away, having missed the feeling of his lips on yours in the week that you’ve been apart.

His hands travel to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. Your own hands cradle his face, your thumbs caressing the light dusting of stubble that adorns his cheeks. You can already feel the outline of an erection forming through the thin material of his pajama pants when he pulls away, much to your disappointment.

“I love meat lovers pizza,” he assures you with a smirk. “And I love you. The best present you could give me is coming home to me.”

“Still. I’m going to make it up to you,” you promise with a feather light kiss to his lips. “I promise. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to—”

You’re cut off by a low rumbling noise that sounds from between your bodies – a reminder that you haven’t eaten a substantial meal in twelve hours now. You glance over to the plates of food on the island beside you, inhaling the delicious aroma of the dishes.

“I made an educated guess that you’d be hungry,” Bucky chuckles. He reluctantly drops his hold on your waist and moves to pull the barstool out for you. You hop up, taking your seat in front of a heaping plate of pasta and a bowl of French onion soup. Your stomach growls again at the sight.

“Did you make all of this?” You ask, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. It’s not that Bucky is a bad cook – he has a few go-to meals that are always excellent, but he normally doesn’t stray too far out of his comfort zone.

“I did not,” he admits with a sigh. He takes a seat directly across from you. “I ordered takeout from the bistro down the street before they closed earlier. Heated it all back up when you texted me that you were almost home.”

“Well, it’s fucking delicious,” you mumble through a mouthful of the creamy pasta.

You eat together in the glow of the candlelight, with soft music playing in the background and heavy rain beating down against the windows of your apartment. You talk about everything from the details of your mission to what he did while you were away. The food is delicious, the wine he picked out pairs perfectly, it’s cozy and peaceful and romantic – and you realize that you’re enjoying this so much more than you ever would have enjoyed an upscale steakhouse in downtown Brooklyn.

You both end up being too full of pasta and soup to eat any of the pizza that you’d brought home, but you’re happy that you’ve got a whole pizza to look forward to having for lunch tomorrow.

“Thank you, baby,” you tell him after swallowing the last sip of your wine. “For all of this. It was more than I could’ve hoped for today.”

He reaches across the counter, grabbing your hand in his own and bringing it to his lips. “Of course,” he murmurs against your skin, eliciting goosebumps down your arm. “As much as I wish we could’ve spent the day together, I still wanted to make the last hour of it as special as possible.”

He stands, releasing your hand as he begins to collect the empty plates and glasses. “You go on and get ready for bed, yeah? I’ll clean up in here.”

“Nonsense. It's almost midnight. These dishes can wait until the morning. Just stick them in the sink and come shower with me.”

You don’t even care if the whole apartment still smells of garlic and French onion soup in the morning – you’ve been showering and sleeping without him for the last week, and it’s still technically Valentine’s Day, so you’ll allow the dirty dishes to sit for the next eight hours.

To your pleasant surprise, he needs no further convincing. He piles the dirty dishes into the kitchen sink and puts the uneaten pizza in the fridge while you get the shower water up to temperature. By the time his pajamas fall to the bathroom floor, you’re already standing under the hot stream of water.

He opens the shower door, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as soon as his eyes trail up and down your body. The way he looks at you never fails to make you feel like he’s seeing you naked for the very first time, every time.

His hands immediately come to rest on your hips, easing you back against the cool tiling of the shower wall. “God, I missed you,” he sighs as he massages his fingers into the meat of your hips. The contrast of his warm flesh hand and cold vibranium hand on your waist has you arching into his touch.

“I can tell,” you giggle, pulling his face down to yours by the back of his neck. His mouth slates over yours, his tongue sweeping along your bottom lip. You part your lips for him right away, more than ready to feel and taste him after all of your time away.

He nudges your legs apart with his knee, inserting one of his large thighs in-between your own. You sink your bare pussy onto the expanse of his muscular thigh, dragging your center across him for friction. He kisses you until you’re breathless, and only pulls away to instead latch his mouth over one of your nipples. He rolls it between his lips and tongue, using his hold on your waist to help move you up and down his thigh. He alternates between each nipple, kissing and sucking on each until they’re pert and pebbled.

His erection gains your attention as it juts against your belly. You reach between your bodies, taking his length in your hand and stroking him with ease, the water from the shower making his skin slick.

You whimper above him, desperate for some release. He laughs, peppering kisses across your breasts and up your neck. You feel him smiling into the column of your throat.

“I think you missed me, too,” he murmurs against your pulse point.

“Maybe,” you admit, your voice etched with impatience. “Why don’t we hurry and get out this shower so I can show you just how much I missed you?”

He presses a final kiss to the side of your neck before pulling away and smirking down at you. He reaches over to one of the shelves in the shower, grabbing a loofah and your bottle of body wash.

“I’ll have you know that I showered before you got home,” he says as he squirts a dollop of the gel onto the sponge. “I’m just here for your entertainment – and your convenience, of course. Now turn around.”

You do as he says, turning around to face the shower wall. You brace yourself against the tiles with your forearms, relaxing as he begins to massage the soap across the tops of your shoulders and down your back.

He takes his time, lazily rubbing the skin of the backs of your thighs before reaching around and doing the same to your stomach and chest. As good as it feels, all you can focus on is the head of his cock nudging against the curve of your ass.

“Bucky.”

The word comes out somewhere between a moan and a warning – a warning that if he doesn’t finish lathering your body in the next two seconds so you can rinse the fuck off, you’re going to take matters into your own hands.

“What is it, baby?” he asks innocently, stepping forward ever so slightly so that his cock inches between the space where your thighs meet your ass.

You turn back to face him, grabbing the loofah out of his hand and tossing it to the opposite end of the shower. The stream of water that beats down against your bodies washes the suds down the drain.

“You’re really going to tease me like that? On Valentine’s Day, of all days?”

“Pretty sure it’s after midnight now,” he quips with a smirk.

You turn so that you’re out of the direct line of the water, and lower yourself to the shower floor. His cock bobs inches in front of your face. You grasp him in your hand, languidly stroking his length as you stare up at him.

“Then I guess you’re lucky that I missed you so much.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but snaps it shut with a sharp intake of breath when you wrap your lips around his tip. You swirl your tongue around him, lapping up the beads of pearlescent white that had gathered around his slit. You begin to bob your head, taking more and more of him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat.

Above you, he throws his head back and hisses at the sensation. His metal hand cradles the back of your head, guiding your movements. You gag at the overwhelming fullness, pulling away from him for air. You ease him back into your mouth, setting a steady pace. He rocks his hips forward, meeting your movements with his own.

In one hand, you cup his balls, gently massaging the sack. With your free hand, you attempt to relieve the growing ache between your own thighs by rubbing quick circles over your clit. The thrusts of his hips start to grow erratic, and you feel him twitch against your tongue when he suddenly pulls away from you.

“Not gonna cum in your mouth,” he answers when he looks down to see your questioning stare. “Not tonight. Missed you too much.”

He pulls you up by the tops of your arms and eases you back against the shower wall once more. He then takes your place on the floor, kneeling in front of you. He trails kisses along the wet skin of your thighs as he hooks one over his shoulder. He wastes no more time, diving into your pussy. His tongue swirls over your clit as he brings one long, metal finger to tease your hole. He nudges it inside as his lips suction around the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of your folds.

Your body goes relaxed, your back sliding down the wet tiling of the shower wall. Bucky helps support you from down below as he sinks his vibranium digit deeper inside you.

The coil in your lower belly tightens quickly, pent up from a whole week without his touch. He can always tell when you’re close by the little noises that you make and the way that you tug on the short brown locks of his hair with your fingers.

He groans as he licks a thick strip up your slit, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm washes over you, your cunt clenching around his thick vibranium finger as he sucks your clit until you go still above him.

It's then that it hits you that the water from the shower has started to run cold.

“Come on,” Bucky says, rising as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He turns the faucet off and grabs the two towels that hang over the glass wall of the shower, handing you one before wrapping his around his waist. “Let's get out of here. I’ve got one more gift to give you before we continue this.”

“Another gift? You’ve already done so much. I didn’t even get—”

He gently shushes you with a sly grin, exiting the shower before you can protest any further. You pat your skin dry before securing the towel around your chest and then follow him into your shared bedroom.

Alpine is snoring softly at the foot of your king sized bed, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re even home. Everything is exactly as you left it, from the stack of half finished books on your nightstand to the orange Himalayan salt rock lamp that hasn’t been turned off a single time since the two of you moved into the apartment together. The comfort and familiarity of everything makes you feel all the more grateful to be back home.

You grab a bottle of lotion off of your bedside table and begin lathering it onto the skin of your legs as you watch Bucky rummage through the drawer of his own nightstand. After a moment, he pulls out a small, dark red colored box.

“Catch!” He warns before gently tossing it across the bed to you. You catch it, a smile blooming across your face as you sooth your thumb over the velvet material encasing the small box. He walks over to your side of the bed to stand beside you.

You raise the lid to box, revealing a dainty gold chain with a capital letter B dangling in the center.

You think it’s perfect. It’s isn’t overly ostentatious – it’s the perfect size, and so very you.

“Do you like it?” Bucky asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“I love it,” you assure him, overwhelmed by how sweet and thoughtful he is. “Help me put it on?”

You don’t care that it’s the middle of the night, you want it on you right now.

Bucky takes the box from you, carefully removing the necklace. You turn away from him, letting him drape the delicate chain around your neck. The charm lands just below your clavicle.

“There,” he murmurs as he clasps the chain together. You turn back to face him, letting him see his initial displayed across your chest. “Perfect.”

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper as you raise up on your feet to press your lips to his. The light flavor of your slick lingers on his lips, sending a fresh wave of arousal through your gut. “So much.”

“Of course,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Now lay down. Wanna see how it looks on ya without the towel.”

••••••

thanks so much for reading!! comments and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

[disneyprincemuke]

the orange peel theory * fem!driver

how many men in her life would stop to peel an orange for her if she asks randomly?

pairings: f1 grid x fem!driver

warnings: -

notes: juSt a random idea i got when i dreadfully peeled oranges for myself ugh i hate being single sometimes

guys this is the last vr update today i swear i’ve got too much times on my hands actually

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

-> max verstappen, #1

would be in the middle of an interview after quali when she comes up to him with a mandarin orange in hand

max stops mid sentence to look down at her in confusion but will take the orange into his hands as she asks him to peel it for her politely

he would cover the mic and whisper “can this wait? i’m in the middle of something” and she shows him her hands, perfectly manicured white nails with a frown and says “i’ll stain my nails”

and he just does it, peeling the orange as he carries on with the interview after she walks away without him knowing

when he finishes, he turns to give it to her but she’s no longer there and ends up eating the orange during his interview lol

-> logan sargeant, #2

he’d be sitting in his garage minding his own business when she comes and sits next to him with a bag of mandarin oranges in hand

he doesn’t even need to be told

he immediately reaches out and starts peeling the oranges for her, even tearing away the white strands because he knows she hates those

totally nothing to do with the fact that he’s had a crush on her forever

everything to do with the fact that they grew up together and he’s too lazy to fight

-> daniel ricciardo, #3

he’s literally just walked into the paddocks for race day

he feels all cool with all the cameras

suddenly she runs over to him with an orange in her hands and a hopeful smile

“peel this for me please?”

he does it without question

he walks the paddocks with her while peeling her orange and even sparks up conversation with her

-> lando norris, #4

literally walks away when he sees her approaching him with an orange

she’s been doing it all weekend and he refuses to be a victim

also because he’s not that fond of peeling oranges

or oranges, for that matter

she tries chasing after him but when she finally catches up, he simply ignores the request to peel the orange for her

-> pierre gasly, #10

he’ll be literally walking over to the grid for the driver’s parade

looking pretty cool in his cool fits

an orange is presented to him without question

he grins at her and thanks her for the orange

walks away and eats the orange himself

-> sergio perez, #11

would also be in the middle of an interview when she comes up with an orange

would peel it because he’s a mega dad and he’s really taken a liking to her

excuses himself from the interview to do it for her real quick

would take one piece of the orange for himself

claims it’s the taxes for making him do it instead of doing it herself

-> fernando alonso, #14

takes the orange without her saying anything

he’s always seen with seb on race weekends and is very used to her antics

literally gives her the orange peel and one piece of orange

eats the orange without her saying anything

she’s in damn near tears because she really expected fernando to peel it for her without question

-> charles lerclerc, #16

is sad that she didn’t bring him an orange too

still peels it for her though

even though he was in the middle of some paddock game with carlos

asks for a piece and because she loves him and her crush is still very much present, she simply gives him the whole orange

-> lance stroll, #18

he’d have been coming out of his racing home minding his own business

they don’t interact often because she scares him

is almost scared to say no to the orange peeling and actually says no

mutters “i always knew you hated me” as she walks away

which then makes him chase her to peel the orange for her and apologise profusely

because lance and her literally never talk and it took up all her courage to approach him with this orange, she gives him half of the orange

-> kevin magnussen, #20

asks her if she's got an extra orange for his baby girl

she literally came prepared and gives one to cute baby laura

so now kevin has to peel two oranges for two babies

outrageous, if u ask him

-> nyck de vries, #21

has unfortunately departed by the time she decided to be a menace about the orange peel theory

she thinks about him often though

they're texting buddies actually

-> yuki tsunoda, #22

literally came prepared

he's got a packet of candy he bought when he flew back to japan for a visit

she gives him the whole orange

she literally peels the orange for him in exchange for the candy

-> alex albon, #23

was literally walking to the grid for the opening ceremony of the race weekend

says no immediately

but he does change his mind and asks if he can have half if he peels it for her

peels it and takes more than half of the share

-> zhou guanyu, #24

is delighted to even see her because they don't come across one another often

is kinda touched that she asked him to peel an orange but then is disappointed to find out that he's not the first victim and that this is all a tiktok trend for her

peels it anyway

asks her to bring an extra orange if there's a next time as payment

-> niko hulkenberg, #27

she literally cannot find him

doesn't get to participate in the trend

she only saw him once that weekend and it was at the opening ceremony and she only had 1 orange for alex to peel

and on the grid in his race car

-> esteban ocon, #31

absolutely ADORES her

peels it without question

peeks around her shoulder to ask if she's brought another one for him

she says yes and that he's the only one who gets one for himself because she loves him back

-> lewis hamilton, #44

this psycho literally approaches lewis when he's on an interview panel

but that's because he asked her to do it at that time so he has a excuse to escape the panel

he's just so tired of the panel interviews

giggling with her like demons as he peels the orange

-> carlos sainz, #55

peels it for her without question

the only one to ask her why she's got so many oranges to eat and hand out

also the only one to ask her if oranges have been the only thing she's eaten all weekend

inhumanly impossible to eat this many oranges in one weekend perhaps

-> george russell, #63

is literally tearing up because she came to him to ask to peel the orange

he heard from alex what she's been doing

he's been waiting all weekend for her and was sad that it seemed like she had no intentions on letting him participate in her tiktok

she feels so bad for him that she joins him in peeling an orange as well

-> valtteri bottas, #77

is confused because he's just minding his own business using his phone during the driver's briefing

peels the orange for her anyway

asks if oranges are her favourite fruit

suggests eating something less acidic to avoid a tummyache

-> oscar piastri, #81

if anyone's tired of her being a menace with all these oranges, it's going to be him

but because he knows she'll pick a fight if he says no

he will peel the orange reluctantly

takes a picture with the orange because it's the same shade as the mclaren shirt he is wearing

— bonus

-> liam lawson, #30

asks her to fuck off

only ask him to peel an orange when she's lost all the ability to peel one for herself

asks her if he can have one from her orange stash

she says no in tears because he cussed at her

shrugs and walks away

-> sebastian vettel, #5

this clinically insane woman has got this 4 time world champion peeling oranges on the pit wall during qualifying

has him throw her a peeled orange in between laps during qualifying

eats it in the car for a racing 'buff' before she drives out for a lap

she's got too many oranges so he helps her eat some of them

eating oranges = beating mclaren = beating oscar because they're all the same colour and have a correlation obviously

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @sadg3

[aheckinmess]

Fierce Little One

(Part 5 of Cursed, Not Cute.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Dad Sukuna, Ryomen Sukuna, OC Child, Child Satoru Gojo, Child Suguru Geto, Lazy Day Stroll, Overall Fun Friendship Times, Protective Sukuna, Toji Fushiguro, And Yes - He's an Asshole, Satoru Gojo is an Idiot, Angst, Sukuna's Daughter Has to Fight Toji, That Tells You Everything You Need to Know, Also There's A Tiger Spirit, She Spits Wisdom Daily, We Love Her

Word Count: 2,224 words

Summary: Now a teenager, Besu has another friend added to her arsenal. Suguru Geto. After a day of chatter and teasing each other, Gojo and Besu head home before curfew. They're not expecting a life-threatening roadblock on the way home.

Chapter 5: Fierce Little One

Besu giggled at Geto as he seemed completely unbothered by Gojo’s usual antics. While Gojo and Besu often fed from each others’ chaotic energy, Geto acted as their emotional stabilizer. When Gojo first introduced Geto, Besu couldn’t deny her concerns. As daughter of the Curse King, she’d grown accustomed to being used as an advantageous pawn to get to her father.

Which meant she expected to be shouldered aside in favor of someone better than her.

Now? The three of them hung out all the time. Her father didn’t seem fond of the idea that she was best friends with two boys, but even she noticed the small smile he had every time she rambled to him about their misadventures.

“Satoru, you’re too confident for your own good.” Geto sighed, shaking his head with some amusement.

“C’mooonn, Suguru! You know the three of us could take on anyone!” Gojo smirked and nudged Besu for backup. “What do you think, Besu?”

“I can’t make a comment on this.” She chuckled. “I’m sure we could hold our own, but I’d rather not tempt fate at the ripe age of thirteen.”

“You’re no fun!” Gojo poked her cheek and she smacked his hand.

“While you may be pure chaos, Satoru, Besu actually has a logical head on her shoulders to balance out her chaotic behavior.” Geto said evenly.

“Yeah, but if I had asked her without you around she would have agreed!” Gojo leaned his head on Besu’s shoulder with a dazzling simper on his lips. “Wouldn’t you, Besu?”

“Satoru, I am not fighting the world to satisfy your appetite for destruction.” Besu snorted, ruffling his hair to make him get off of her. “If I was going to do that, I’d have joined my father’s crusades across the country long before now.”

“We can invite him, too!” Gojo taunted.

“I’m sure you’d have his blessing.” Geto added with a playful nudge.

“But you surely wouldn’t have mine.” Baekho rumbled, swirling into existence by Besu’s feet. “Just because you are capable of great destruction doesn’t mean you should cause it.”

“Party pooper!” Gojo stage-whispered to Geto.

“Aren’t you supposed to be yin to the dragon’s yang? The most fearsome auspicious beast meant to cause wanton destruction?” Geto quirked a brow.

“Just because I am capable of great destruction does not mean I should cause it.” Baekho reiterated. “I am known to be a harbinger of death and destruction, but that does not mean it is all that I am. At my core, I am not unlike Besu here.” Besu felt peace in the coolness of her tiger’s cursed energy as Baekho rubbed her misty head against her hand.

“Are you saying we should fear Besu as we fear you?”

“Baekho isn’t scary!” Besu frowned at Geto. “She’s my friend!”

“I believe he’s talking of a different type of fear, Cub.” Baekho chuffed. “He speaks of a fear that strikes awe into mens’ hearts. And to answer your question, young Suguru, yes. Though I am perhaps biased a bit in favor of my own cub. She has a ways to go, though, before she earns her stripes.”

“Why do you call Besu your cub? Did you and her dad have a little too much fun in the spirit realm?” Gojo snickered. 

“No. I call Besu my cub just as I would call any of you my cubs. Though I am known for destruction at times, most of it has only ever been created in the thralls of my own protective nature for humanity. I’m sure you’ve also heard tales of my dedication to justice and morality.”

“Suguru!” A faint, female voice called as the group closed in on Geto’s house. “It’s almost past your curfew! Come on!” 

“Thank you, Baekho, for your time and insight.” Geto gave her a little bow before giving his goodbyes and jogging the rest of the way home.

“Ugh. Don’t you ever get tired of defending the weak, though, Baekho?” Gojo pouted.

“It is all a matter of perspective, young Satoru.” Baekho rumbled. “If you only see people as a measure of weakness or strength, then you’ve missed out on the most beautiful part of humanity. You’ve reduced everyone to nothing more than common beasts based on your own subjective ideals.”

“Subjective? Everyone knows what strength or weakness looks like!”

“You know what it looks like to you, perhaps. And there is a communal view of strength and weakness for the majority, surely. But look at Besu. Do you think she’s weak?” 

“Of course not! She was taught by the King of Curses and you’ve attached your spirit to her.” Gojo scoffed. “Who would be dumb enough to call that weak?”

Besu shrunk a little and tilted her head down as they rounded another corner, making her miss a flash of black hair moving into the shadows as they walked.

“And yet Besu believes herself to be weak and unfit to be your friend. Mere physical strength is not the only measure of strength as a whole.” Baekho’s ears twitched and she halted, eyes trained on the empty streets ahead. Her head tilted back to the alley behind them. “Sometimes strength lies in being the weakest and still enduring every hit landed. Sometimes strength lies in being weak and knowing you need help. And sometimes,” Baekho bared her teeth as her eyes locked on the dark alley across from them. “Strength lies down an abandoned alleyway.”

Besu only had time to turn her head when a man flew from the alley, honed in on Gojo. Of course, he never made it past Baekho.

Instinctively, Besu shoved Gojo behind her, eyes locked on this strange man. Black hair. Scar on his lip. Oh no. Just like she’d known Satoru Gojo upon her first glance, Besu’s father had warned her about Toji Fushiguro. While the Curse King might have no issue fighting such a man, Besu still had training and growing to do.

“What business do you have here?” Baekho snarled, teeth poised at Toji’s throat.

“What do you mean? You have any idea how much money I could get for Satoru Gojo’s head alone? But to find out he’s hanging with the princess of curses, well…” He chuckled. “That sounds like a two for one sale if I ever heard one.”

Besu witnessed Toji’s strength first hand as he shoved Baekho away from him and went for Gojo first, who was running headlong into the fight with a grin.

“Satoru, don’t!” Besu screamed, but her plea fell on deaf ears.

“I can take on this coward!” Gojo laughed, before time seemed to slow as Toji’s fist connected with the infinity of his stomach and sent him flying back. “Try and fight me when you can’t hit me!”

What are you doing, Cub? Get up! Fight! Baekho shouted in her mind, rallying on Toji as he moved with such speed he seemed to teleport.

Besu shook her head and her training took over. Fighting a foe as fast and strong as Toji was second-nature, but even so, she had yet to beat her father in a sparring match. The only advantage she seemed to have in this fight was a second pair of arms. There’s no way we get out of this alive. I need to warn my father. Rally your cursed energy while I hold him off! And Besu did. She focused on the pit of her stomach like her father taught her and moved it up, up, up to the top of her head.

WHACK! The wind was knocked out of her as Toji slammed his fist into her gut. It was nothing compared to her father’s dismantle or cleave, but it still dazed her.

“You should know better than to walk unguarded, Princess.” Toji sneered.

Besu found her mind frozen even as she fought with Baekho in a seamless dance fitting a princess of curses. But everything stopped when Gojo leapt at Toji and she watched him pull out the Inverted Spear of Heaven. Where the hell did he get that?!

“You might be fast and strong, but you still can’t hit me!” Gojo laughed.

“Stop, Gojo!” Besu leapt toward them with a scream.

Her heart stopped when the blade pierced Gojo’s chest and her friend’s eyes widened. When Gojo flopped to the ground in a bloody puddle, anger pooled in her gut as she flipped over Toji, ripping out a chunk of his hair and then grabbing Gojo before darting down the street.

I can hold him off for a little while, Cub, but you won’t be able to run the whole way! I have to get as close to Father as I can or Satoru will die! Terror and venom seeped through her bones with every breath. Her father would be able to heal Gojo. She might die getting him there, but she’d be damned if she let her best friend die.

“Hang on, Satoru. Don’t die yet.” She whispered to her friend. “Dad will save you. He has to.”

A block stood between Besu and her castle when she flew forward, using one pair of arms to catch herself and the other to shelter Gojo. Besu only had time to hide him behind a car before Toji zeroed in on her, pummeling her with blows not unlike her father during training. An innate, feral need to rip the man in front of her limb from limb caused her to grab him with a pair of hands and slam him into the nearest wall with the others.

And suddenly Besu couldn’t move. She defended herself half-heartedly as doubts fluttered through her mind. How could she claim to be any different from her father if those dark urges for destruction eventually won over? Self-defense was one thing, but the desire for Toji’s blood? Though her father subscribed to no such niceties like compassion or love, Besu broke the mold and couldn’t fathom a world without it. 

Baekho roared in Besu’s mind, leaping in to hold off Toji again, the color of her spirit now a crimson red in her rage. Baekho, I have to save Satoru, but I can’t be like my father! I don’t want to be fueled by his appetite for destruction! I can’t fight Toji! Then you have condemned young Satoru to death! Besu’s lip quivered as she looked at Satoru’s body behind the car, tears mingling with her own sweat and blood at the thought of him dying. Meanwhile, Baekho fought for her relentlessly in a way she felt she didn’t deserve. If you stand there and do nothing, he will die. If you stand there and forsake your training, you will both die! But how can I say I’m devoted to peace when I have to stoop to such lows to reach it? What you speak of is not peace. You speak of being harmless! A true pacifist is capable of great destruction and chooses peace. Toji struggled under Baekho and a pained roar came from her as he freed his right side. Still she persevered. But if you do not fight right now you are not promoting harmony or helpfulness…you are promoting harmlessness. And you, Little One, are far from harmless.

One final look at Satoru, and Besu noticed his head was tilted up. Glistening blue eyes pleaded with her. Help. His mouth didn’t move, but she could swear she heard the plea uttered from his very soul.

When the angry fire rekindled in Besu’s veins, Baekho turned a different shade: purple. And suddenly Besu felt unstoppable as she turned offensive with her tiger companion. Her speed doubled and, while Toji still matched her enough to block every hit, she could tell he hadn’t been expecting the barrage of assaults between the two of them.

We have to end this quickly for Satoru. I don’t know how much longer he’ll live! Then let’s finish him. Use the technique your father taught you. And though Besu had never executed a dismantle or cleave successfully, she let instincts take over as she dodged a swing of Toji’s sword and swiped two of her fingers in front of her, aiming for Toji’s throat.

When she felt the technique hit but Toji still landed with a grin, Besu stopped breathing. Real fear clawed into her throat as she wondered what her death might mean for the already doomed fate of Japan.

But her shoulders slumped with relief when Toji’s smiling head fell off his shoulders with a thud, and the rest of his mangled body plopped forward. She dashed over to Satoru and cradled him in her arms again, ignoring the burning pain saturating her every limb. Gojo remained her only concern.

“FATHER!” She yelled through the mansion as soon as she stepped in, only able to make it through the threshold before her body gave out on her.

Blood soaked the entry rug when her father’s face came into view. 

“What are you–Besu?” Annoyance gave way to alarm as Sukuna flashed to her side. “What the hell happened?!” 

“Toji.” It was the only explanation she needed to give for now, especially as exhaustion claimed her. After she set Gojo’s limp body in front of him, a sob tore from her chest. “Dad…please don’t let Satoru die.”

 Her body didn’t wait for his answer as the world turned black.

Continue Reading -> Ch. 6

[kaiser1ns]

#. IT SUITS YOU . . . !

featuring 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. umemiya hajime, takiishi chika togame jo, kaji ren, suo hayato, kiryu mitsuki, sakura haruka, endo yamato

fluff. he thought there was no other way to make him love you more until he saw you in his clothes.

UMEMIYA HAJIME

It was unbearably hot outside, so you and Umemiya decided to spend the day indoors, lounging on the couch and eating ice cream while watching some random show on Netflix. You thank the people who decided to create the air conditioning, and the ice cream felt heavenly against your tongue.

Halfway through the second episode, you managed to get a dollop of ice cream on your shirt. "Ugh, I'll be right back," you said, heading to the bedroom to change.

You rummaged through your drawers but couldn't find anything, then you stopped at a very interesting design as you grabbed one of Umemiya's shirts from the closet. It was soft and smelled like him, instantly making you feel cozy.

When you returned to the living room, you saw Umemiya's eyes widen and his jaw drop. In his shock, he accidentally let go of his ice cream, which fell to the ground with a splat.

"Ume, what was that for?" you asked, grabbing a wipe to clean up the mess.

It was strangely quiet, and when you looked up, you saw him staring at you with heart eyes, a blush spreading across his cheeks, and a huge, adoring smile on his face. His hand was clutching his chest dramatically.

"PUMPKIN, YOU ARE SO CUTE!" he screamed, fangirling, waving his imaginary tail like a little puppy. The sight was absolutely adorable. He started to pull off his own t-shirt, "PLEASE PUT THIS ONE!" You laughed and stopped him, "Another time, baby."

Days later, you were doing the laundry and noticed most of the clothes in the basket were Umemiya's. Little did you know, he had secretly left most of his shirts in your wardrobe during his sleepovers. But that was a secret, a sweet gesture of his love that you didn't need to know about.

TAKIISHI CHIKA

You woke up early on a lazy Sunday morning, the sun just beginning to filter through the curtains as you stroll into the kitchen, trying to find something to eat while dressed in your boyfriend's shirt that somehow became your pajama. The faint scent of his cologne that still lingers on was very comforting and calming, it made you more lovesick.

Takiishi, still half-asleep, shuffles into the kitchen, wondering why did you left. His hair is tousled and his eyes are still heavy with sleep, but when he sees you standing by the counter in his shirt ... he doesn't say anything per usual, as he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. It's his shirt, the one you brought, not Endo. His warmth envelops you, and you can feel his steady heartbeat against your back. Despite just waking up, he finds peace, feeling so comfortable that he can drift back to sleep.

"You'd make a good teddy bear," you tease gently, turning in his embrace to face him. His expression is as calm as ever, but you can't help but notice the small smile that he tried to hide. "My pillow disappeared," he murmurs, his voice still husky with sleep. Well, of course, you are his personal pillow and blanket, but you didn't mind that at all.

With a groan, you realize you'll have to bring him back to bed. Gently, you guide him out of the kitchen, his arms still loosely around you playing with the shirt, as you lead him down the hallway. He leans on you heavily, his steps slow and relaxed, completely trusting you to guide him to where he can rest again.

As you reach the bedroom, he stirs slightly, murmuring a soft thank you against your neck. You can't help but smile at his sleepy self, carefully helping him settle into bed. He snuggles under the covers, pulling you close so you're curled up against his chest and he will always be close to you either with his arms around your body or with his shirt on you.

TOGAME JO

You really wanted to go to the store, and so you did, grabbing the first jacket you saw on your way out. It was a bit oversized, and you didn't think much about it. When you returned home, you were met with a scene of mild chaos. Your boyfriend, Togame Jo, had turned the house upside down.

"Jo, what are you doing?" you asked, taking off your shoes and looking at the scattered items.

"I can't find my Shishitoren jacke—" He paused mid-sentence, turning to look at you. There you were, standing in the doorway, wearing the very jacket he was searching for. A soft smile spread across his face. "It looks good on you, doll."

Realization dawned on you. You had grabbed his jacket by mistake. Well, you wouldn't lie—you did look pretty good in it. "I'm sorry, I'll take it off," you said, starting to remove it. Togame made a slow, dismissive gesture with his hand. "No, no. Keep it on."

"But don't you need it right now?" you asked, puzzled. "Won't Choji complain because—"

He cut you off with a teasing grin, "They already know who I am. Wear it so they know who that jacket belongs to."

Your heart fluttered at his words. Snuggling into the jacket, you smiled back at him, feeling a warm sense of belonging. Togame stepped closer, wrapping an arm around you.

"Besides," he whispered, "you make it look way better than I ever could."

KAJI REN

Kaji seemed to like hoodies, no he loved hoodies. And he especially loved when you wore them. The sight of you, cozy and snug in his oversized clothing, always made him somehow melt. But now, as he stood shivering at the bus stop, he started to regret his choice of giving you his favorite one. After all, it was cold, and you had forgotten to bring something warmer, leaving him only in his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Ren," you said softly, guilty as you glanced at him. Your boyfriend stood there, his arms wrapped around himself, his breath visible in the chilly air. The bus wouldn’t be here for another 30 minutes, and you could see he was freezing.

He wasn’t that mad, just a little bit, a tiny little bit. But he preferred you to be warm and safe, so when boyfriend duty called, he answered. With a small sigh, you snuggled closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso, hoping the soft material of the hoodie would warm him up. His initial shiver softened as he felt your embrace, and he glanced down at you.

"Please don't be mad at me," you pleaded, looking up at him with those big, apologetic eyes.

"I am not," he replied, shaking his head. "Just next time, wear one of my hoodies or put something with sleeves," he sounded calm, well his other senses didn't work that well when freezing, as you hummed in response, pressing yourself closer to him as a way to share whatever warmth you could muster.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the bus arrived. As you both climbed aboard and found a seat. The heater was a blessing, and you leaned into Kaji, feeling him gradually warm up. He wasn’t mad, but you noticed the sniffles starting the next morning.

Now, as he lays on the couch, wrapped in blankets and surrounded by tissues, you felt even more guilty. Kaji has come down with a cold, and you are taking care of him. You brought him hot tea, fluffed his pillows, and made sure he had everything he needed.

"Ren, I'm so sorry," you said again, placing a hand on his forehead to check his temperature. He looked up at you, his eyes a bit glassy but still filled with affection. And you knew that he would rather be sick than have you catch a cold.

SUO HAYATO

As you finish the final touches in front of the mirror, you can't help but feel a bit nervous. The smooth white silk of the changshan glides against your skin, as you admire how the elegant fabric hugs your form, the intricate patterns catching the light just so. Suo's appreciation for Chinese-styled fashion has always intrigued you, and today, you decided to surprise him by matching his style.

A quick glance at your phone reminds you that Suo is waiting outside, though he texted you saying he’d be there for a while, giving you more time to get ready. With a deep breath, you grab your bag and head out the door.

Stepping outside, you spot him immediately. Your boyfriend stands there, looking effortlessly handsome as always in his own changshan, and a smile playing on his lips. But as his eyes land on you, his expression shifts to one of pleasant surprise.

"Y/N?" he calls out, the amusement and admiration can be heard and seen as he takes a few steps closer, his gaze never leaving you. "Is that my changshan?"

You nod, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "I wanted to match with you today. Do you like it?" He chuckles, the sound warm and teasing. "Like it? You look amazing. But I must say, you pull it off better than I do."

"I just wanted to try it out. You always look so good in these, and I thought it might be fun." Suo reaches out, gently adjusting a strand of hair that had fallen out of place, his touch is warm, "Well, you certainly succeeded. But now I’m worried everyone will be looking at you instead of me."

You roll your eyes, knowing he's just teasing. "Oh, please. You know you always steal the spotlight." He grins, his hand holding yours as you start to walk together. "Maybe so, but today, you’re the star. I’m really happy you did this, Y/N. It means a lot."

The honesty in his voice makes your heart flutter. "I just wanted to show you how much I appreciate you. And maybe… steal some of your fashion secrets."

Suo chuckles, squeezing your hand. "Anytime, Y/N. You know, we could make this a regular thing. Matching outfits and all."

You smile, the idea sounding more and more appealing, "So I will see you wearing Hello Kitty pajama's?" and as you think about how cute he will look in pink pjs while you apply a face mask and watch movies, it makes your heart melt, and he just laughs softly. "Who am I to deny you?"

KIRYU MITSUKI for my pookie @heartkaji

You’ve borrowed his shirt for the day, its soft fabric with vibrant pastel colors and shapes, a comforting reminder of him, paired with your pink skirt and cute Converse sneakers. The combination makes you feel especially adorable, and you notice the admiring glances from your boyfriend who undoubtedly thinks the same.

Kiryu’s been quiet, his phone in hand more than usual. You’ve caught glimpses of him smiling subtly at the screen, making you assume he’s checking something interesting. Perhaps a new game or a video that caught his eye.

You find a cozy bench and settle down together, your head finding its familiar spot on his shoulder. The day has been perfect, and you close your eyes for a moment, to get a rest from all the walking. When you open them, you notice his phone gallery is open, the screen filled with so many photos.

You tilted your head for a better look. The gallery is full of pictures of you—captured candidly throughout the day. These aren’t just any blurry photos; they look professionally taken, each one perfectly framed and lit. Your heart skips a beat as you realize Kiryu’s secret. Blushing, you nudge him playfully.

"Why didn’t you tell me?”

He looks at you with that calm, gentle cat like smile that always makes your heart melt. “I didn’t want your facial expression to be forced for the picture only.”

His words make your cheeks flush even more. You feel an overwhelming rush of affection for this boy who loves you so deeply, capturing your natural moments with such care. Leaning up, you press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

Kiryu’s smile widens just a bit, and he pulls you closer. “And you’re beautiful. Wear my clothes more often, they suit you.”

ENDO YAMATO

Endo often went shopping with you, spoiling you with many bags that would pile up during your hangouts. You appreciated his generosity, but sometimes, the sheer number of bags was overwhelming.

Today, home alone, you found yourself rifling through Endo's closet. You slipped into one of his oversized shirts and a pair of his jeans, the latter needing a makeshift belt to stay up. To complete the look, you even drew some lines on your arms to replicate his intricate sleeve tattoos. Standing in front of the mirror, you struck a pose and imitated his voice, "I am Endo Yamato and I'm going to tell you some philosophy shit I don't understand myself." You couldn't help but giggle at your own 'cosplay'' if you can even call it one.

Unbeknownst to you, Endo had come home. He stepped into the room whistling, his phone held up and recording. You froze, eyes wide as you locked gazes with him. He was grinning ear to ear, clearly entertained, while you felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you.

Before you could react, the makeshift belt gave way, and his jeans slipped down to the floor. Luckily, the oversized shirt and tank top you wore covered you just enough.

"You didn't see anything. Get out," you stammered, cheeks burning. Endo chuckled, the phone still capturing every moment. "Good impression, although, one note: you forgot to draw this tattoo," he said, pointing to a specific spot on his arm.

You grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. "I said get out!"

"Right, right," he replied, backing out of the room with a mischievous smile. "But don't beg me to delete the video; you were so cute."

You groaned, knowing you were in for a relentless teasing. "Endo, I swear, if you don't stop…"

But his laughter was already echoing through the hallway, leaving you to change and try to remove the tattoos you drew with a permanent marker. It can't get any worse than this, can it?

SAKURA HARUKA

The sky was clear when you and Sakura set out to run errands for Kotoha, but halfway through your way to the store, the heavens opened up, and a heavy rain began to pour. You dashed for cover, but it was too late. Your white blouse quickly became soaked, clinging to your skin, making you aware of how exposed you felt. With your hands crossed in front of your chest, you glanced over at Sakura.

He was blushing furiously, doing his best not to look directly at you. His eyes darted nervously, and then he shrugged off his jacket. Holding it out to you, he kept his head turned away, the redness creeping up his neck and ears to the tip of his fingers. "H-here," he stammered, his voice soft and gentle.

"Thank you," you said, taking the jacket from his trembling hands. You slipped it on, the warmth from his body still lingering in the fabric. Sakura's scent enveloped you, and you could see him stealing a few glances, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. It was clear he was trying hard to keep his composure.

You stepped closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest. Standing on your toes, you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I'll return it tomorrow if it's not a problem."

Sakura.exe had officially stopped working. He stood frozen, eyes wide and lips slightly parted, unable to process what just happened. His cheeks were burning, not from the cold rain but from your touch. "Sure, keep it, yeah," he finally managed to say, his voice shaky.

You laughed softly at his reaction, making a mental note to treat him to something nice next time as a thank you. The rain stopped after not too long, but you were still with his jacket on, and he didn't mind at all. Sakura will probably make you run in the rain again, or do anything else, just to have an excuse to give you the jacket.

BONUS !

KOTOHA + TSUBAKI using he/him for tsubaki

Guess what time it is? It’s the casual Girl’s Night that occurs on most Fridays. Tonight, you, Kotoha, and Tsubaki are at Tsubaki's house for a sleepover, and the evening is already filled with gossip and laughter. The three of you sit on the living room floor, painting your nails in bright, fun colors while a horror movie plays in the background. You all giggle at the ridiculous actions of the main characters, the jump scares only adding to the fun.

Soon, the nail polish is drying, and you move on to your next activity: karaoke. The living room transforms into your stage as you each take turns singing loudly, the music echoing through the house. Your voices blend together in a chorus of joy, rockstars quite literally.

After the concert, it’s time for the fashion show. You rummage through Tsubaki's closet, matching your clothes with pieces from Kotoha's and Tsubaki's collections. With a dramatic flair, Tsubaki sets up the "runway" in the hallway, grabbing a flashlight to act as the spotlight.

"Lights, camera, action!" Tsubaki shouts, and you begin your strut down the hallway, feeling like a top model. Tsubaki's enthusiasm is infectious as he cheer, "You are so beautiful, Y/N-chan! I knew that skirt would suit you!"

Kotoha's eyes light up with admiration as she sees how her makeup looks on you. "You look stunning, Y/N," she says, her smile genuine and warm, clapping her hands.

The three of you take turns walking the runway, posing and twirling as you go. Tsubaki snaps photos, capturing every glamorous moment. Once satisfied, you all crowd around his phone, reviewing the photos and choosing the best ones to post on your socials.

Just as you hit "post," your phones buzz with notifications. The Bofurin group chat, which is 99% boys, suddenly goes crazy when Tsubaki sends a video of your model walk. Messages flood in, filled with surprised reactions and compliments.

"Is that Y/N?" Tsubaki reads Hiragi's message. "SO CUTE!" Umemiya added, and for some reason, Sakura sent a thumbs-up emoji, don't judge him, he is still learning to use a phone properly.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[stvrboyy]

── ❝𝓒astlevania 𝓓ating 𝓗eadcanons❞

────────── alucard/adrian tepes x gn!reader

────────── trevor belmont x gn!reader

────────── sypha belnades x gn!reader

─ summary; generic dating hcs that have been rotting in my drafts for a bit ;)

word count; 600+

cw; fluff, established relationship (seperate), some are SUGGESTIVE

a/n; i miss sypha and trevor so so so so so muchhhh ughhh. also im open to writing more headcanons for the castlevania trio cuz i loved this sm

─ navigation

─ masterlist

ALUCARD ;

─ Alucard is a reserved but deeply attentive lover. He observes your needs and preferences, often meeting them before you even voice them. ─ He loves quiet moments together—reading by candlelight, strolling through moonlit gardens, or sharing soft conversations in the stillness of night. ─ Physical touch is subtle but meaningful. He enjoys resting his hand on your shoulder or brushing his fingers along yours, each gesture deliberate and full of affection. ─ He values your opinions and enjoys discussing philosophy, history, and the nuances of human nature, always eager to hear your thoughts. ─ Once he trusts you, he’s incredibly loyal and would do anything to keep you safe. ─ Alucard’s touch is gentle but carries a hidden intensity. He’ll softly brush his lips along your neck, testing your reactions before fully indulging in a kiss. ─ There’s something intoxicating about his voice when he lowers it to a whisper, murmuring your name in ways that make your heart race. ─ He’s usually in control, but when you show him affection first, it stirs something deeper in him. ─ He adores lingering touches, like trailing his fingers along your spine or holding your face just to admire your expression.

TREVOR ;

─ Trevor is gruff and sarcastic but utterly devoted once you’ve broken through his tough exterior. He’s protective, often throwing himself into danger for your sake. ─ He loves to tease you, using playful banter as a way to express affection. His smirks grow wider whenever he manages to make you laugh. ─ Despite his roughness, he has a surprisingly soft side. You’ll catch him wrapping you in his cloak on cold nights or wordlessly pressing a kiss to your temple. ─ He thrives on adventure and loves having you as his partner in crime, whether it’s hunting monsters or sharing drinks at a lively tavern. ─ Trevor might not say “I love you” often, but his actions speak volumes. He’ll fix your weapons, cook when you’re too tired, or stay up all night to watch over you after a tough fight. ─ Trevor is handsy when he’s in the mood—an arm around your waist, a hand resting low on your back, or fingers brushing your thighs under the table. ─ He’s a shameless flirt, always whispering bold comments that make you blush. ─ After a fight or a drink, he gets more affectionate, kissing you with a rough passion. ─ He loves making you flustered and gets a kick out of your reactions when he’s playful.

SYPHA ;

─ Sypha is an affectionate and playful partner. She’s always ready with a witty remark or a kind word to lift your spirits. ─ Physical affection comes naturally to her. She loves holding hands, linking arms, or resting her head on your shoulder after a long day. ─ She enjoys sharing stories about magic or her travels and loves hearing about your life too. ─ She’s brave and always ready to protect you in a fight, casting spells to keep you safe. ─ Sypha loves spending time with you, whether it’s exploring or just sitting under the stars. ─ She loves whispering sweet (and occasionally daring) things in your ear, just to see your reaction. ─ She’s confident in showing her affection, often pulling you into passionate kisses. ─ She adores the intimacy of tangled limbs and shared warmth, often tracing lazy patterns on your skin with her fingertips during quiet moments. ─ Sypha knows how to balance playfulness and passion, making every moment with her unforgettable.

© STVRBOYY — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

[santaasi]

moonstruck

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: who could have known that jj maybank would steal your first kiss beneath the stars, all to evade the pursuing police?

warnings: fluff, first kiss, no use of y/n, english isn't my first language

word count: 2.6k

a/n: a little fic to celebrate the release of obx4. after s3 idk if I'll watch s4, but you can give me your opinion about 5 new eps in the comments. have a nice time reading this work! love u <3

ᯓ★ now playing...

enhypen - moonstruck

THE NIGHT AIR WAS WARM, infused with the salty tang of the sea and the soothing rhythm of waves crashing against the shore. The gentle breeze rustled the palm fronds, creating a soft, whispering melody that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. This tranquil evening was the only redeeming quality of your job at the cluttered antique store. After two long years, you still wondered how your boss managed to keep the place afloat, especially when half the customers left without buying anything. Those who did purchase something often bombarded you with endless questions that drained your patience, just like today.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders as your shift finally came to an end. All you wanted was to retreat to the solace of your home and hide beneath a warm blanket. It had been one of those days—when customers were rude, the air conditioning was a distant memory, your legs ached from standing, and you smelled like a dust-covered relic.

After struggling to lock the front door—an ancient key refusing to cooperate, as if it had been stuck since the Great Depression—you slung your bag over your shoulder and stepped out into the quiet streets of the Cut. The fresh sea air caressed your skin, invigorating your senses. You knew this town like the back of your hand, every crack in the pavement a familiar companion. The streetlights flickered overhead, bulbs long overdue for replacement, casting a dim glow that made the shadows dance around you. Though it wasn’t the safest place, it was home—a place where trouble always seemed to find you.

And one of them even had a name: JJ Maybank.

Like everyone in the Cut, you had heard countless stories about him and his adventures with the crew who proudly called themselves the Pogues. From the time you were kids, his reputation as a wild spirit with a devil-may-care attitude had preceded him. You remembered the laughter that echoed through the neighborhood as he and his friends roamed the sandy streets, always planning their next adventure—sneaking onto rooftops, racing bikes down the winding roads, and daring each other to dive into the ocean at dawn. JJ was the embodiment of carefree youth, with a reckless smile that could charm anyone and a spark in his eyes that promised trouble.

Despite sharing the same neighborhood, your worlds felt galaxies apart. While he thrived in the thrill of spontaneous adventures, you found comfort in the quiet corners of your life. You spent lazy afternoons lost in books, dreaming of places far beyond the horizon. As children, you’d played side by side in the warm sand, yet your paths seemed to diverge with the years. JJ was the star of wild tales and whispered legends, while you remained a quiet observer, forever intrigued yet hesitant to step into his whirlwind of chaos.

You never expected that your paths would cross, at least not like this — bound together by a single, reckless moment that would change everything.

As you stood there, savoring the rhythmic crash of waves against the sandy shore, the tranquil scene was suddenly pierced by the sound of heavy footsteps behind you — fast and uneven, as if someone were running. The street was mostly quiet, just a few couples strolling hand in hand, lost in the warmth of a summer evening. The sudden urgency in the air pulled your attention, stirring a sense of curiosity.

Before you could turn to see who it was, a hand grasped your wrist, spinning you around with a swift motion. Your heart leaped into your throat, eyes widening in shock. You instinctively clutched the worn fabric of a white T-shirt, struggling to steady yourself. Frowning in confusion, you looked up and met the cheeky blue eyes of the last person you expected to see.

It was him — JJ Maybank himself, breathless and frantic, the unmistakable spark of mischief dancing in his gaze. Even amid his panic, his blue eyes glinted with a familiar wildness, hinting at the reckless adventure he always seemed to be chasing. In that moment, the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you standing on the edge of the beach, the waves whispering secrets to the shore.

“Hey there, my pretty little neighbor! It’s a perfect evening for a walk, don’t you think?” JJ chatted, his smile strained as he kept glancing back over his shoulder.

“JJ? What are you doing—?” You barely had time to finish your question before he cut you off. His playful demeanor vanished, replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness that sent a chill down your spine. His blue eyes scanned your face, searching for something.

“I need your help,” he said quickly, lowering his voice as the distant wail of sirens began to fill the air.

Your thoughts raced, but they tangled together in confusion. “What?” you whispered, still too stunned to process what was happening.

“The cops are coming,” he said urgently, glancing around as if the shadows themselves might betray him. “I just… I need you to help me not get caught. Please.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your head around the situation. The sirens grew louder, and flashing lights danced around the corner, cutting through the evening calm. Panic swelled in your chest. What could you possibly do? You were not the type to get involved in this kind of chaos, especially not with someone like JJ, who always seemed to flirt with trouble.

You bit your lip, staring at him, your mind racing. You had no clue what JJ had done this time, but with all the rumors swirling about him, it could be serious. If the cops saw you with him, they might think you were involved, and the last thing you wanted was to be dragged into a police station to answer questions. All you wanted was to go home, wrap yourself in a cozy blanket, binge-watch your favorite show, and sip hot tea until sleep finally took you.

But time was running out. You needed a plan — and fast.

Then, a ridiculous idea flashed through your mind, inspired by that Marvel movie you had watched a few weeks ago. People tended to look away when they saw couples getting too… intimate. It was as if tenderness made them uncomfortable, a reminder of something personal they weren’t meant to witness. Kisses, soft touches, the kind of closeness that drew attention away from everything else.

Oh, no. You swallowed hard, heart pounding. It was a risky move, but you didn’t have the luxury of time to second-guess yourself.

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed JJ by the collar and pulled him closer, pressing your lips to his.

It wasn’t just any kiss; it was your first kiss, and you had no clue what you were doing. The warmth of his lips against yours sent a jolt through you, a thrilling rush that left you dizzy. His breath mingled with yours, soft and sweet, and for a heartbeat, everything else faded away. You thought about pulling back, a wave of embarrassment washing over you, but then you felt his hand cradling the back of your head, steadying you, keeping you from breaking the moment.

“Whoa,” you whispered, your heart racing. But before you could say anything else, JJ deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours with a playful insistence. You gasped, a surprised sound escaping your lips as your mind spun with confusion and exhilaration. You were lost in a whirlwind of sensations — your heart pounded wildly, and your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tugging gently at the tips.

Suddenly, your back hit something cold and hard. JJ pulled back slightly, both of you panting, gulping for air. His gaze swept over your face, a mixture of surprise and something unnameable flickering in his eyes. You opened your mouth, desperate to say something — anything — to justify your impulsive action, to apologize for crossing a line. The silence felt thick and awkward, stretching out between you like a taut string.

“Uh, I didn’t—” you began, but before you could finish, JJ’s hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm and grounding. He pulled you in again, kissing you once more, more fiercely this time.

Your cheeks burned, but it felt like your entire body was ablaze. Thoughts of right and wrong melted away, leaving only the intoxicating pleasure of his lips against yours. You couldn’t help but think that everyone who claimed JJ Maybank’s kisses were magical had it all wrong. They weren’t magical; they were raw and real, yet they lifted you high above the chaos of the world. Each kiss felt like a leap into the unknown, an escape where your soul soared and your heart raced.

Just as you lost yourself in the heat of it all, the wail of sirens pierced the air, cutting through the intimacy of the moment. Police cars rushed past, barely glancing in your direction, but the sudden noise jolted your heart back to reality.

The kiss lingered for a heartbeat longer before you pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, struggling to process what had just happened. JJ blinked, his lips slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something, but the words failed to materialize, hanging in the air between you like unspoken secrets.

As reality settled back in, you dropped your hands, suddenly aware of just how close you had been. The warmth of the moment began to fade, replaced by a rush of embarrassment that flooded your cheeks. You cleared your throat, adjusting the bag that had slipped off your shoulder, the awkwardness of the situation weighing heavily on you.

“I... uh, saw it in the movies,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. The words tumbled out in a rush. “People don’t like public affection, so…”

JJ stared at you, a mixture of surprise and amusement flickering in his blue eyes. Then, to your shock, a slow grin spread across his face, playful and teasing. “Damn it,” he said, still trying to catch his breath, his voice light with laughter. “Remind me to ask you to save my ass more often, Bambi.”

You felt your cheeks ignite like they were on fire, and instinctively, you took a step back, craving a little more space. What had you just gotten yourself into? Your mind raced, blinking like a deer caught in headlights, unsure whether to crack a joke, tease him back, or just stand there in stunned silence.

JJ chuckled hoarsely, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe the turn of events. “You’re something else, you know that?”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips, the tension hanging between you slowly beginning to ease, but the flutter in your stomach remained, leaving you wondering what this moment meant for both of you.

“Don’t look at me like that with those beautiful big eyes of yours, or I might just fall for you right here and now,” he teased, flashing a wink that sent a rush of warmth to your cheeks.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a shy smile crept onto your lips. “Seriously, JJ? Is this your idea of flirting? Because it’s kind of cheesy.”

“I know, right?” he laughed, the sound light and carefree. “But it works, doesn’t it? I mean, look at you! I’d be an idiot not to try.”

His voice dropped, a playful seriousness creeping in as he leaned closer. “I think I owe you now,” he whispered, almost conspiratorially, his breath tickling your ear. His hand slid gently over your shoulder, and before you could react, he casually lifted your bag, throwing it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

“Hey! That’s my bag!” you protested, half-heartedly, your heart fluttering at his boldness.

“I know, but I don’t like being beholden to beautiful girls like you,” he said, grinning like he’d just won a prize. “So, as a thank you, I’m walking you home. Wouldn’t want anyone to steal you away.”

He winked again, laughter dancing in his blue eyes as he started to walk ahead, your bag bouncing lightly against his back. You stood frozen for a moment, still processing what just happened. His hair was tousled, the way it always was, and you wondered if your heart had raced like this before. Did you really make him flustered? Oh my God, was this really happening?

“Are you coming?” he called over his shoulder, pausing to give you that cheeky grin that made your stomach flip.

“Uh, yeah, I’m coming!” you managed to say, shaking yourself out of your daze. You hurried to catch up with him, your heart beating wildly, a mix of exhilaration and disbelief bubbling inside you. As you walked side by side, the sound of the waves crashing behind you and the warm breeze wrapping around you felt like a secret the universe was sharing.

The night air was alive with laughter and playful banter, the gentle rhythm of the waves providing a perfect soundtrack to your conversation. JJ animatedly recounted his latest adventures with the Pogues — like the time they snuck into the lighthouse for a midnight swim and ended up launching a misguided rescue mission for a beach ball. You hung on every word, entranced by his charisma, the warmth of his presence beside you igniting something within you.

“Seriously, though,” he said, glancing sideways, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, “thanks for helping me back there. Who knew a cute girl could be such a hero?”

You laughed, the sound bright in the night air. “I didn’t have much of a choice. You practically swept me off my feet with that spin…”

He chuckled, that familiar mischief dancing in his gaze. “What can I say? I’ve always been drawn to trouble. And now, I guess I’m just moonstruck by you.”

With each step, the distance between you shrank, a connection sparking amid the chaos of the night. When you finally reached your porch, he paused, turning to face you, the glow of the moon illuminating his features in a way that made your heart race.

“I had an awesome time tonight,” he said, a hint of sincerity in his tone. “Maybe we should hang out again. You know, when I’m not dodging cops or getting into trouble. How about a pizza or something?”

You chuckled, the sound light and bright. “Didn’t know you treated all your life saviors to dinner. What’s next, a moonlit pizza date?”

JJ smirked, leaning in slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Only the cute ones. Just imagine it—a night under the stars, with me serenading you about my crazy adventures. Sounds perfect, right?”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling your heart race at the thought. “Yeah, maybe. But I’m not sure if I’m ready for your karaoke skills yet.”

He threw his head back and laughed, a sound that made your heart flutter. “Oh, I’ll win you over. You’ll be begging for an encore.”

With a final grin, he stepped back, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment that felt electric. “Cool. I’ll see you around then.”

As you watched him walk away, the night felt charged with promise, the moonlight casting a silvery glow that made everything seem magical. You stood on your porch, a soft whisper of excitement filling your heart, knowing that this was just the beginning of something wonderfully beautiful—something that had you feeling both moonstruck and hopeful for what lay ahead.

thankx for reading <3

you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

masterlist

[starkeysmoon]

KNOTS AND KISSES

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: after a long day at hogwarts, mattheo surprises you by offering to untangle your hair, revealing a softer side you didn’t expect.

content: fluff, mutual pinning, no established relationship, suggestive language, kissing.

words: 1,853

the castle had settled into a hushed stillness, the kind that only came when most students had retreated to their dorms.

you sat on your bed, freshly showered but too tired to deal with the mess of damp, tangled hair sticking to your shoulders.

the soft glow of enchanted fairy lights shimmered across your room, casting gentle shadows on the walls.

just as exhaustion began pulling at your limbs, a soft knock broke the silence, and before you could respond, the door creaked open.

“you’re going to get hexed one day for not locking your door,” mattheo muttered as he stepped inside, his smirk already firmly in place.

his dark eyes flicked over you, taking in your pajama-clad form and the damp strands clinging to your face.

“though i suppose if i’m the one sneaking in, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

you arched a brow at him, too tired to fight the grin tugging at your lips. “is this your way of saying you missed me, riddle, or are you just bored?”

he shut the door behind him with a soft click, the smirk deepening as he crossed the room. “can’t it be both?”

you rolled your eyes as a laugh escaped from your lips, flopping back against your pillows. “what are you even doing here? do you plan to charm my hairbrush to attack me?”

he pushed off the doorframe and strolled over to you, his gaze lingering on the damp strands clinging to your face. “doesn’t look like i’d need to. your hair’s already doing half the job.”

“wow. insightful as ever, mattheo,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

he chuckled, low and warm, as he perched himself on the edge of your bed. “bad day?” he asked, his voice laced with concern, but you could already hear the teasing in it.

you turned your head toward the door, only to find him leaning against the frame, arms crossed, a grin spreading across his face.

“i’m fine,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes.

“just… too tired to deal with this,” you said, motioning vaguely at your tangled hair.

mattheo raised an eyebrow. “too tired? or too lazy?”

you gave him a playful glare. “i prefer ‘tired.’”

he walked over to the bed, his smirk still in place, but his eyes softened when they landed on you. “i think i can help with that,” he said, as if he'd already made up his mind.

“help? how?” you raised an eyebrow, suspicious of what he meant.

“well, you don’t have to untangle your hair if you’re that tired,” he said, his voice practically dripping with mischief. “i’ll do it for you.”

“you?” you blinked, unable to hide your amusement. “you’re going to untangle my hair?”

“don’t sound so surprised,” he drawled, though his smirk betrayed his amusement. “i’m full of hidden talents.”

you couldn't help but laugh at the idea.

“like what? bothering me until i lose my mind?”

“that’s one of my favorites,” he admitted, moving to sit down on the bed next to you, patting his lap, gesturing impatiently.

“now, are you going to sit down, or are we going to spend all night arguing?”

you narrowed your eyes at him, though you couldn’t stop a small smile from playing at the corner of your lips. “this better not be some trap to mess with me.”

“i’m offended,” he teased, his voice light and playful.

“just sit, and let me work my magic.” he patted his lap again, the mischievous glint in his eyes growing stronger.

sighing dramatically, you rolled your eyes, but there was no resisting him. you climbed onto his lap, positioning yourself so you were sitting comfortably with your back against his chest.

hesitating for only a moment, you shifted to sit on the bed, your back pressed against his chest as you settled into his lap. his hands immediately found your hair, the warmth of his palms startling against your cool, damp skin.

“you’ve done this before?” you asked, more out of curiosity than doubt.

“maybe,” he said, his tone deliberately cryptic as his fingers worked through the knots with surprising gentleness.

“what does maybe mean?” you pressed, craning your neck to glance at him.

“it means don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” he said, smirking down at you.

you huffed, but the way his fingers combed through your hair was oddly soothing, and you felt yourself relax against him.

“you’re quiet,” he noted after a moment, his tone light. “you’re not plotting my demise, are you?”

“not yet,” you murmured, closing your eyes. “this is suspiciously nice, though.”

he chuckled, low and warm, the vibration of it against your back sending a strange flutter through your chest. “what can i say? i’m full of surprises.”

the two of you fell into an easy rhythm, the sound of his voice mingling with the soft crackle of the candlelight as you chatted.

you teased him about his hair-braiding skills, or lack thereof, and he retaliated by pretending to tug too hard, only to gently smooth his fingers through the strands again.

at one point, he paused, his hands lingering in your hair. “you know,” he said quietly, almost hesitantly, “this isn’t so bad.”

“what isn’t?” you asked, turning your head slightly to glance at him.

“this,” he said, gesturing vaguely between you both. “not... being alone all the time.”

his admission caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. but then you reached up, your fingers brushing against his, and you smiled.

“i trust you,” you said softly, feeling the weight of his words in the space between you.

his gaze softened, his fingers pausing in your hair before he continued gently untangling it.

“you do?” his voice was low, surprised in a way that made your chest tighten.

you nodded, feeling the quiet shift between you both. “yeah. even if you are a pain in the arse sometimes.”

he snorted softly, but there was a warmth in his smile. “you know, you’re lucky you’re cute when you’re being stubborn.”

his fingers carefully tugged at a particularly tough knot, and you winced.

“sorry,” he murmured, his voice softening. “i won’t hurt you.”

you laughed. “you’re lucky i like you. otherwise, i might just hex you for putting me in this position.”

“oh, please,” he scoffed, but there was no malice in his voice.

“as if you could live without me.” he tugged on your hair again, this time with much more care.

“hmm, true,” you admitted, letting your eyes close for a moment, enjoying the warmth of his body and the soothing rhythm of his fingers. “you’re pretty hard to get rid of.”

“you’re welcome,” he said with mock humility, and you could feel the grin on his face against the back of your head. “this is just me being a good…friend.”

“good friend, huh?��� you teased, your voice light and playful. “who knew you had it in you.”

“you’re the only one who gets to see this side of me, you know,” he muttered, voice surprisingly soft as he continued working through your hair, his hands gentle now. “so enjoy it while it lasts.”

you felt a warmth settle in your chest at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile, even though you tried to play it off.

“you really are soft underneath all that sarcasm,” you teased, your voice warm with affection.

“and you’re not fooling anyone with that fake tough-girl act,” he shot back with a grin, though it was obvious he was enjoying the moment just as much as you were.

his fingers worked through another knot before he reached for a strand near the back of your head, tugging it with an exaggerated grunt.

“how did this even happen? seriously, it’s like you’ve been wrestling with a hippogriff.”

“i do have a very busy life, you know,” you quipped, reaching up to lightly smack his arm. “you’re lucky i’m letting you do this. don’t mess it up.”

“mess it up?” he echoed, his voice dripping with confidence. “i told you i’m a professional.”

you snorted. “right.”

you felt his chest rumble with laughter, the sound so close to your ear that it sent a shiver down your spine.

he was so close to you, and in this simple, sweet moment, everything felt just a little bit more perfect.

“well, i think i’m done,” he said after a moment, gently setting your hair down, and you could feel the soft caress of his hands against your skin.

you turned in his lap to face him, feeling your heart race as you met his eyes.

“you actually did a good job,” you said, a teasing smile curling at the corner of your lips. “i’m impressed.”

“thank you,” he said, grinning back at you. “i told you. i’m good at everything.”

“everything, huh?” you leaned closer, your breath mixing with his as you smiled. “prove it.”

before he could respond, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a kiss that was anything but soft.

he tasted of warmth, familiarity, and affection. he didn’t pull away, his arms tightening around you in response.

and for that moment, with his fingers still tangled in your hair and his lips against yours, the world outside your little bubble of comfort didn’t matter.

it was just the two of you, tangled together in the way only you could understand.

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