#To Our Warm Little Times icons

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | new years with your f1 boyfriend

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : it's new years with your f1 boyfriend, what're your plans?

୨ৎ : genre : fluff ୨ৎ : tws : kissing & skinship ୨ৎ : word count : 3992

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : happy new years to everyone i hope you all love this !! 🎉

ʚ・max verstappen

the crisp winter air kissed your cheeks as you and max walked hand in hand toward the crowded park. the distant crackle of fireworks already hinted at the dazzling display to come. you tightened your scarf around your neck, your gloved fingers clasping a steaming cup of hot chocolate. max carried his own, his free hand tucked snugly in the pocket of his coat.

“are you sure this is worth braving the cold for?” max asked, though the faint smile playing on his lips betrayed his teasing.

you nudged him gently with your shoulder. “oh, come on, max. fireworks, hot chocolate, and you? sounds like the perfect way to start a new year.���

his soft chuckle sent a flutter through your chest. he squeezed your hand as you reached the open field. people had already gathered, their breath visible in the frosty air as they chatted and waited for the midnight display.

you found a quiet spot away from the main crowd, settling on a blanket you’d brought. the city skyline sparkled in the background, the atmosphere humming with anticipation. you handed max a small tin box you'd been hiding in your bag.

“what’s this?” he asked, raising a curious brow as he turned it over in his hands.

“a time capsule,” you said, grinning at his surprised expression. “i thought we could write letters to our future selves, add a few photos and little memories from this year, and open it together next new year’s eve.”

he gave you a look, a mix of incredulity and affection. “that’s… very cheesy.”

“hey!” you protested, though his smirk softened your mock indignation.

“but,” he continued, his blue eyes twinkling under the soft glow of streetlights, “i kind of love it.”

you beamed, pulling out pens and papers. the two of you sat close, jotting down thoughts and hopes for the coming year. you shared quiet laughter over your favorite moments from the past season, max even adding a bottle cap from a celebratory post-race drink to the capsule.

when the fireworks began, painting the night sky in vibrant bursts of color, max wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him.

“this is nice,” he murmured, his voice almost lost in the distant pops and crackles.

you leaned your head on his shoulder, a contented sigh escaping your lips. “happy new year, max.”

“happy new year, love,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

as the final fireworks faded, leaving trails of smoke against the dark canvas of the sky, you sealed the time capsule, knowing that this moment, like everything else you’d placed inside, would be a memory to cherish.

and though he might not admit it outright, the soft smile lingering on max’s face told you he wouldn’t have wanted to celebrate the new year any other way.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

the energy in times square was electric, a swirling mix of excitement, cold winter air, and the endless buzz of millions of people. the iconic new york city lights shone even brighter than usual, reflecting off the surrounding buildings. it was your first time here, and you couldn’t believe you were standing in the middle of it all, hand-in-hand with lewis hamilton.

“i still can’t believe you flew me out here,” you said, your voice slightly muffled by the scarf wrapped around your neck.

lewis turned to you, his warm brown eyes crinkling with a smile. “you’ve been talking about wanting to see the ball drop for ages. how could i not?”

your cheeks warmed—not just from the cold, but from the way his gaze lingered on you, filled with a tenderness that made your heart race.

the crowd around you erupted in cheers as the countdown clock approached its final minutes. despite the chaos, lewis made sure to keep you close, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist. you leaned into him, his warmth seeping through his coat as the two of you watched the dazzling lights of times square.

“this is unreal,” you whispered, gazing up at the massive ball perched atop the pole. “thank you, lewis.”

he turned you slightly, his face now inches from yours. “you don’t have to thank me, love. i just want to see you happy.”

your breath hitched, and before you could respond, the crowd roared louder. the final minute of the year had begun.

“sixty seconds,” lewis said with a grin, glancing at the clock and then back at you. “ready to start the new year together?”

“always,” you said softly, your voice almost lost in the deafening countdown.

the seconds seemed to both drag and race by as the crowd chanted in unison. “ten… nine… eight…”

lewis shifted, standing in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face. the world around you felt like it slowed down as his thumb brushed your cheek.

“three… two… one… happy new year!”

as the ball dropped and confetti rained down in a dazzling cascade of colors, lewis leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that made everything else fade away. the cold disappeared, the noise blurred, and all you could feel was the warmth of his lips and the steady, grounding presence of his arms around you.

when you finally pulled back, the sparkle in his eyes rivaled the confetti falling around you. he rested his forehead against yours, his voice soft and full of emotion. “i wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else. not tonight, not ever.”

your heart swelled, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, either.”

he laughed softly, brushing a stray piece of confetti from your hair. “here’s to us, love. to the new year, and everything it’ll bring.”

with the city celebrating around you, you held onto him tightly, knowing that as long as you had lewis by your side, this year—and every year to come—would be unforgettable.

ʚ・george russell

the soft glow of fairy lights illuminated the living room as you curled up on the couch, your legs draped over george’s lap. a bowl of popcorn sat precariously between you, and an old new year’s eve movie played on the tv. outside, the winter wind howled faintly, but inside, it was warm and cozy—the perfect way to ring in the new year.

george stretched his arm behind you, looking down at your mismatched fuzzy socks with a playful smirk. “i’ve been meaning to ask—do you intentionally pick socks that clash, or is this some kind of fashion statement i’m not aware of?”

you threw a piece of popcorn at him, laughing as it bounced off his forehead. “they’re cozy! and besides, you’re one to talk. didn’t i catch you wearing socks with holes in them last week?”

he gasped, feigning offense. “excuse me, those were my lucky socks. there’s a difference.”

“lucky how? do they help you win races or just charm your way out of arguments?”

george grinned, leaning closer with a twinkle in his eye. “a bit of both, actually.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. as the minutes ticked closer to midnight, george shifted, pulling you closer until your head rested on his shoulder. his fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm, the once-playful energy softening into something more intimate.

“alright,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “what’s your new year’s resolution? and don’t say something boring like ‘drink more water.’”

you tilted your head to look at him, a teasing smile on your face. “fine. my resolution is to make sure you wear socks without holes in public.”

he groaned, tossing his head back dramatically. “that’s not a resolution—that’s bullying.”

“someone’s got to keep you in check,” you quipped.

he chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his chest. “alright, smartypants, my turn. my resolution is…” he paused for effect, his eyes narrowing mischievously. “to beat you at mario kart at least once this year.”

you gasped, sitting up. “you’ll never win, and you know it. i’m untouchable on rainbow road.”

“don’t get cocky, love. i’ve been practicing.”

the playful banter dissolved into laughter, and before you knew it, the countdown began on the tv. george grabbed the remote, turning the volume up slightly as the two of you leaned forward, watching the seconds tick away.

“ten… nine… eight…”

george turned to you, his expression softening as the excitement built.

“five… four…”

his hand cupped your cheek, and you felt your heart flutter at the way his blue eyes sparkled under the warm light.

“three… two…”

and just as the clock struck midnight, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was somehow both tender and exhilarating. his hand slid to the back of your neck, keeping you close as the faint sound of cheers and fireworks filled the room.

when you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a crooked smile on his lips. “happy new year, love. here’s to more mario kart losses and mismatched socks.”

you laughed, your arms wrapping around his neck. “and here’s to you admitting defeat gracefully—for once.”

“never,” he teased, pulling you in for another kiss, the warmth of the moment eclipsing everything else.

ʚ・carlos sainz

the kitchen was alive with the warm, comforting smells of garlic, tomatoes, and freshly baked bread. you stood at the counter, carefully chopping vegetables while carlos manned the stove, his sleeves rolled up and his brow furrowed in concentration. the soft hum of music played in the background, occasionally drowned out by the laughter and chatter of his family from the living room.

“you’re going to burn that if you keep stirring it like that,” you teased, glancing over at carlos, who was fiercely focused on the pot of sauce in front of him.

“¡por favor! i know what i’m doing,” he retorted, though the way he immediately lowered the heat betrayed his confidence.

you couldn’t help but laugh, wiping your hands on a towel before stepping over to him. “move over, chef sainz. let me save your sauce before it turns into soup.”

carlos shot you a playful glare but stepped aside, crossing his arms as he watched you with a mock pout. “this was supposed to be my moment of glory.”

“you can have your moment when you’re not about to ruin dinner for your family,” you said, giving him a sly grin.

he leaned against the counter, his eyes following your every move. “you’re lucky you’re cute when you boss me around.”

“and you’re lucky i’m here to stop you from poisoning your parents,” you quipped, shooting him a wink.

by the time dinner was ready, the two of you had settled into a seamless rhythm, laughing and bickering as you plated the food together. when you brought everything to the table, his family erupted into applause, making carlos puff out his chest dramatically.

“see? they love it,” he said, nudging you with his elbow as you sat beside him.

“they love us,” you corrected. “big difference.”

carlos’s father raised his glass, giving you both an approving nod. “to carlos and y/n—the dream team of the kitchen. ¡feliz año nuevo!”

after the lively meal and several rounds of stories, games, and champagne toasts, the countdown to midnight began. everyone gathered in the living room, and carlos tugged you closer to his side, his arm draped comfortably around your waist.

as the clock ticked down, carlos leaned in close, his voice low in your ear. “you know, i think we make a pretty good team.”

“only when you let me take charge,” you teased, looking up at him with a playful smirk.

“or maybe it’s because i keep you on your toes,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“three… two…”

the room exploded into cheers, hugs, and clinking glasses, but carlos only had eyes for you.

“happy new year, cariño,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of warmth as he leaned in to kiss you.

the world seemed to melt away as his lips met yours, the kiss tender yet filled with the kind of unspoken promise that made your heart race. when you pulled back, his hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“this year,” he said with a soft smile, “i just want more moments like this—with you.”

your cheeks warmed as you grinned back at him. “good thing we’ve got a whole year to make that happen.”

and with his family cheering and laughter ringing around you, you knew it was the perfect start to a year you’d always remember.

ʚ・charles leclerc

the cool mediterranean breeze swept across the balcony, carrying the faint sounds of celebration from the harbor below. monaco was alive—its lights sparkling like stars on earth, music drifting up from the yachts, and the occasional burst of fireworks lighting up the night sky.

you leaned against the railing, sipping champagne and admiring the view. “monaco really knows how to do new year’s, huh?”

charles stood beside you, swirling his glass of champagne with an effortless charm. “it’s all for you, of course,” he teased, the corners of his lips tugging into a playful smirk.

“oh, really?” you laughed, raising a brow. “they planned all this just because i’m here?”

“absolutely. i told them you were coming, and voilà.” he gestured dramatically toward the city below, then broke into a grin. “they went all out this year.”

you rolled your eyes, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “sure they did, leclerc.”

the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes when you’re completely at ease with someone. charles set his glass down on the table behind him, turning to lean his hip against the railing. his gaze lingered on you, soft and unguarded.

“you know,” he began, his voice quieter now, “this feels… different.”

you glanced at him, tilting your head. “different how?”

he shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “i’ve spent so many new year’s eves here—on the yachts, at loud parties, with people everywhere. but none of them ever felt like this.”

you smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “is this the part where you tell me i’m better company than pierre?”

charles groaned, rolling his eyes. “please don’t make me compare. if he hears about this, i’ll never live it down.”

“oh, come on,” you teased. “you can admit it—i’m way more fun than pierre.”

charles tried to keep a straight face but eventually broke into a laugh. “alright, fine. you’re more fun. but don’t tell him i said that. he’ll sulk for weeks.”

you laughed, and he shook his head, muttering something in french under his breath about how dramatic pierre could be. but his smile quickly softened as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. his hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “but seriously… you are better company. this—” he gestured between you two, “—this makes it all feel special. because you’re here with me.”

your playful smile faltered, replaced by something warmer. “charles…”

the countdown started below, a chorus of voices rising from the streets. “ten… nine…”

charles’s other hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer. “i mean it,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “you make everything better—except maybe your taste in music. that’s still questionable.”

you gasped, swatting his arm. “excuse me? my playlists are amazing!”

“sure they are,” he teased, his grin widening. “but maybe leave the djing to me next time.”

“five… four…”

“oh, you’re impossible,” you said, shaking your head, though you couldn’t stop the laugh bubbling out of you.

“three… two…”

“and yet, you love me,” he murmured, his voice soft and teasing all at once.

“unfortunately,” you quipped, but your heart betrayed you with the way it fluttered as he leaned in.

“happy new year,” he whispered, right before his lips met yours.

the kiss was sweet and lingering, the distant fireworks and cheers fading into the background. when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his grin unmistakably smug.

“bonne année, mon amour,” he said, his voice dripping with charm. “and don’t worry—there’s still hope for your playlists in the new year.”

you rolled your eyes, laughing as you swatted at him again. “keep talking like that, and you’re not getting any more kisses.”

he gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “cruel! and here i was planning to share my champagne with you.”

“you already gave me my own glass,” you pointed out with a smirk.

“well, fine then,” he said with a mock pout, pulling you close again. “but i’m keeping all the kisses for myself this year.”

and as the next round of fireworks lit up the monaco sky, you couldn’t help but laugh and pull him in for another kiss, knowing you’d never get tired of his humor—or his love.

ʚ・lando norris

the living room was a cozy mess—pillows scattered on the couch, empty snack bowls on the coffee table, and a giant blanket fort you’d both built earlier in the evening. it had been the perfect new year’s eve: takeout, laughter, and lounging. that is, until lando got distracted by the game.

“lando, it’s eleven fifty-eight,” you said, standing by the tv with your hands on your hips, trying to look stern but failing miserably.

“two more minutes!” he replied, his voice laced with concentration as his fingers flew over the controller. his headset was perched haphazardly around his neck, and his tongue stuck out slightly in that signature "lando is focused" way.

“two more minutes, and you’ll miss the new year!” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

he glanced at you, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “relax, love. i’ve got time. this is the last round.”

you crossed your arms, raising a brow. “that’s what you said the last three rounds.”

“yeah, but this time i mean it!” he insisted, dodging imaginary bullets with his whole body as he mashed the buttons.

the clock on your phone read 11:59, and you let out an exaggerated sigh. “you are not starting the new year yelling at a bunch of strangers in a game lobby.”

“i’m not yelling!” lando protested, right as he shouted, “no! don’t steal my loot, you donkey!” into the microphone.

grabbing a throw pillow, you lobbed it at him, hitting him square in the face. he yelped and dropped the controller.

“hey!” he exclaimed, laughing as he dramatically fell back onto the couch. “that was an attack on a defenseless man!”

“you’ve got sixty seconds to get over here,” you warned, pointing to the spot next to you on the couch. “or i’m starting 2025 single.”

“such violent tendencies,” he teased, tossing the pillow back at you as he scrambled to his feet.

“thirty seconds, babe!”

with a dramatic sigh, lando yanked off his headset and dropped onto the couch beside you. “fine, fine. i’m here. happy?”

“ecstatic,” you deadpanned, grabbing the remote and switching the tv back to the countdown.

“ten… nine…”

lando grinned, slipping his arm around your shoulders. “see? plenty of time to spare. you stress too much, love.”

you gave him a look. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“four… three…”

he leaned closer, his nose brushing yours. “and you’re lucky i’m absolutely obsessed with you.”

the words caught you off guard, and your heart flipped as he closed the distance just as the countdown hit zero.

“happy new year,” he murmured against your lips, his kiss soft but filled with that playful energy you loved so much about him.

when he pulled back, his grin was smug. “bet you’re glad i finished my game now, yeah?”

“don’t push your luck, norris,” you said, though you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips.

he laughed, pulling you closer into his side. “alright, alright. but admit it—it’s a pretty great start to the year, isn’t it?”

you rested your head on his shoulder, your hand finding his. “yeah, it is. but next year? no gaming past eleven.”

“we’ll see,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “but if i’m gaming, i promise you’ll still get your kiss—pillow attacks or not.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

“so… how many times are you going to rewind that scene?” you asked, glancing up at oscar, who was focused on the screen.

he gave you an exaggerated pout. “it’s a crucial moment in the movie!” he said, pressing the rewind button again. “you don’t get it. this is the best part.”

you snorted, resting your head against his chest. “you’ve already watched it three times in the past ten minutes.”

oscar smiled sheepishly, letting out a small laugh. “what can i say? it’s a masterpiece.”

you rolled your eyes, though the grin tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement. “you’re such a dork. and you’re going to miss midnight if you keep watching this masterpiece.”

oscar glanced at the clock on the wall and then back at the screen. “you know what? you’re right.” he paused the movie, throwing the remote on the couch before adjusting the blanket around you both. “we should probably focus on the important stuff.”

“like… me?” you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

he shot you a grin. “obviously.”

you snorted, then turned your attention to the window. outside, the city lights twinkled, and you could hear the distant sound of fireworks and people celebrating. the air felt warm despite the cool night, the kind of warmth that wrapped around you like a hug.

“three minutes,” you said, glancing at your phone. “if you’re gonna kiss me at midnight, you better start thinking of something romantic, piastri.”

oscar raised an eyebrow at you. “oh, don’t worry, i’ve got it all planned out. it’ll be so romantic, you’ll be swooning.”

“uh-huh. sure. i’m waiting.”

he grinned, leaning back into the couch and pulling you closer into his side. “honestly, though, i’m just happy to be here. no fireworks, no fancy parties. just you, me, and… this movie that i’ll probably rewatch a hundred more times.”

you chuckled, resting your head against his shoulder. “you really are the definition of a homebody.”

“i’m not complaining,” he said, squeezing you gently. “this is the best way to spend new year’s. plus, you’re here with me. that’s the important part.”

“flatterer,” you said, but your heart was melting just a little.

the countdown to midnight started in the background—someone’s phone ringing out in the distance, fireworks popping in the air. the quiet excitement was a nice contrast to the usual loud, chaotic celebrations, and you couldn’t help but feel content.

“ten… nine…”

oscar looked down at you, his expression soft. “you know, i’m really glad we’re doing this,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “like, this is honestly the best way to start the year.”

you grinned up at him. “well, i’m glad you’re here with me. this is way better than any party.”

“two… one…”

oscar leaned in closer, his lips brushing your forehead as the seconds ticked down. “happy new year, love,” he murmured, just before the fireworks went off outside, signaling the start of another year.

you turned your face up to meet his, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours—soft and sweet, with the warmth of his kiss making everything feel just right. you kissed him back, smiling into the moment, not caring about anything else in the world.

when you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, grinning like you’d just won a prize. “okay, that was a solid kiss. i’m impressed.”

oscar laughed, his thumb gently tracing your hand. “told you i could be romantic when i try.”

and as the night drifted on, the two of you stayed in that cozy little world of yours—no big parties, no grand fireworks—just the comfort of each other’s presence, the perfect way to welcome in the new year.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[pucksandpower]

Prince of Monaco

Charles Leclerc x Princess of Monaco

Summary: what better way for the honorary Prince of Monaco to celebrate finally winning his home race than with the Princess of Monaco?

Warnings: 18+ content

The roar of the crowd is deafening as Charles brings his Ferrari across the finish line, finally winning his home race after years of heartbreak. His mechanics swarm the barriers, nearly delirious with excitement, but Charles just leans back in his seat, letting the accomplishment sink in.

He’s done it. He’s conquered the streets that have taunted him for so long.

As he’s ushered up to the iconic podium, Charles looks out at the sea of fans cheering his name and spots you, radiant in a summery yellow dress, beaming up at him.

For a moment, time seems to stop as your eyes meet. You give him a little wave and he nearly stumbles on his way to the top step, feeling lightheaded.

When you step forward with the winner’s trophy, Charles’ heart starts pounding. Your fingers brush against his ever so slightly as you hand it over and he swears he can feel an electric current pass between you. The sleek lines of the trophy blur before his eyes as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Félicitations, Charles,” you say warmly, resting a hand on his arm.

Charles blinks rapidly as his cheeks start to burn. Up close, you look like an honest-to-god angel descended to earth. How does one even speak to heavenly beings?

“Th-thanks,” he stammers out, mentally kicking himself for sounding like such an idiot. He needs to get it together. “I mean, merci, Your Serene Highness.”

You laugh, the warm sound instantly putting him at ease. “Please, just call me Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats dumbly. It’s easily the most beautiful combination of letters he’s ever heard.

“You should celebrate your big win tonight,” you say, a playful glint in your eyes. “But maybe don’t get too carried away with the champagne.”

Charles frowns in confusion. Is that a royal decree to take it easy on the partying?

“I was hoping you could pick me up tomorrow evening,” you continue blithely. “For our date.”

Our … date? Charles’ eyes go wide as his jaw drops open. Is the most beautiful woman in the world really asking him out right now? In front of millions of people?

“Uh, I … we … huh?” He sputters inelegantly.

You just smile that radiant smile and lean in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “We do now,” you murmur against his skin, sending tingles down his spine. “I’ll see you at eight?”

Before Charles can formulate any kind of response, you give him one last brilliant grin and turn to congratulate Oscar Piastri on second place. He blinks down at the trophy in his hands, wondering if he’s dreaming all of this.

The rest of the podium celebration passes by in a blur. He holds up his trophy and waves to the crowd like he’s supposed to, but his mind is elsewhere, utterly consumed by the feeling of your lips on his skin and the knowledge that he has an actual date with the woman of his dreams.

As soon as the ceremonies conclude, his team is all over him, shouting congratulations and patting his back enthusiastically. Normally he’d be caught up in the revelry, basking in his victory, but now all Charles wants is to get out of there. He needs to chug about a gallon of water and take a very cold shower.

“Party tonight, eh mate?” Carlos calls out with a playful elbow to the ribs. “Got any special plans to celebrate?”

Charles feels the blush creeping back up his cheeks as he thinks about you — your warm laughter, your gentle touch, the promises of a date in your sparkling eyes. His lips tug up in a helpless smile.

“You could say that,” he murmurs, already counting down the hours until he gets to see you again.

The post-race celebrations kick into high gear, with champagne flowing freely and music thumping from every corner. Charles goes through the motions, reveling in his hard-won triumph but unable to fully let loose and enjoy himself. Not when a much bigger prize is waiting for him tomorrow night.

The hours drag by interminably as he waits for an acceptable time to make his excuses and leave the party behind. His friends rib him relentlessly for his uncharacteristic restraint.

“What’s got you so distracted, Calamar?” Pierre teases. “This isn’t like you at all!”

“Yeah, our boy’s got his eyes on something else tonight! Or would it be more accurate to say someone else?” Joris chimes in with an exaggerated wink.

Charles flushes but doesn’t deny it, fighting back a smile. If only they knew ...

It’s nearly 2 am by the time he extricates himself from the club, pleading an early morning commitment. No one believes his excuse for a second, but they let him go with plenty of cheers and well-meaning shoves.

As soon as Charles makes it back to his apartment, he starts feverishly getting ready for tomorrow, picking out the perfect outfit and incessantly checking the time. After tossing and turning fruitlessly for a couple of hours, he finally gives up on sleep, instead spending his morning going for a long run to burn off excess energy.

The day drags on at an excruciatingly slow pace. Every minute feels like an hour as he wills the clocks to move faster. He triple checks the address, runs through conversation starters in his head, and showers for the third time. This date has to go perfectly.

At 7:55 pm, Charles pulls up outside the royal palace, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he tries to control his nerves. He takes one last steadying breath before getting out of the car and smoothing down his shirt.

Like an angel from on high, you suddenly appear in the palace doorway, looking impossibly radiant in a gauzy pink sundress that matches your warm smile perfectly.

“Y/N,” Charles breathes out reverently, drinking in your beauty. Up close, his heart is pounding so loudly he’s sure you must be able to hear it. “You look … wow.”

Your smile grows even brighter as you move towards him. “Well, you clean up pretty nicely yourself.”

There’s a brief, charged silence as you stand face to face, just drinking each other in. Then, seeming to make up your mind about something, you grab his hand and tug him close.

“Come on,” you murmur, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’ve got the perfect date night planned for us.”

With your hand in his, Charles would follow you straight into the depths of hell itself. He manages an eager nod, unable to tear his eyes away from your face.

Whatever you have planned, he knows it will be perfect. So long as he gets to spend the evening by your side, he couldn’t care less what you do.

You lace your fingers through his, shooting him one last brilliant smile, and lead the way to what is undoubtedly going to be the best night of Charles’s life.

***

Warm rays of morning sunlight filter through the sheer curtains, gently rousing Charles from the most blissful sleep of his life. He blinks slowly, taking in the lavish bedchamber with its soaring ceilings and intricate moldings. Plush rugs cover the marble floors and the bed he’s cocooned in is easily the most luxurious he’s ever experienced, with soft Egyptian cotton sheets caressing his skin.

For a delirious moment, Charles thinks he might still be dreaming. But then his eyes drift to you, sleeping peacefully beside him, and his heart stutters in his chest. It all comes rushing back in a torrent of sense memories — your radiant smile, your tinkling laugh, the feeling of your hand in his as you led him out on the most magical night of his life.

The two of you stroll hand-in-hand through the winding alleyways of Monaco, ducking down tiny side streets to places only locals know. Charles is enchanted as you show him hidden corners of your city that he’s never seen before, sharing fascinating stories and anecdotes all the while.

“This little trattoria has been run by the same family for nearly a century,” you explain as you lead him into a tiny, unassuming restaurant positively dripping with old world charm. The smiling owner greets you like a beloved daughter, embracing you warmly.

Over a seemingly endless parade of rustic Italian delicacies and a hearty red wine, you and Charles talk for hours about everything and nothing - childhoods and ambitions, favorite books and movies, embarrassing stories that have you both crying with laughter.

When the owner sends over a giant slice of homemade tiramisu with a wink, you steal the first bite right off Charles’ fork with a cheeky grin. A bit of mascarpone clings to the corner of your mouth and without thinking, Charles leans in to kiss it away, savoring the sweet taste of you mingled with the rich dessert.

You make a soft noise of surprise against his lips before melting into the kiss, cupping his face tenderly. When you finally part, both a little breathless, there’s a new burning heat in your eyes that makes Charles’ heart skip a beat.

“Shall we go for a walk?” You murmur, already sliding out of the booth. Your hand finds his and you lace your fingers together as you lead him back out into the night ...

Just thinking about last night’s date makes Charles’ heart feel fit to burst. You had taken him on a romantic tour of Monaco unlike anything he’s ever experienced, showing him secret nooks and hidden gems even he didn’t know. He had been so entranced just drinking in the city through your eyes, hanging on your every word.

But those heated looks you started sending his way after that first electrifying kiss had made it clear the real night was only just beginning ...

You stroll along the moon-dappled harbor, pointing out your favorite super-yachts and regaling Charles with scandalous stories of the jetset lives of their owners. He laughs delightedly at your wicked sense of humor, tucking you against his side as you wander the lamp-lit cobblestone streets.

When you lead him up a winding path to an old stone overlook, his breath catches in his throat. Twinkling lights from the city and harbor spread out as far as the eye can see, the tiny pinpricks glittering like a million stars. You come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you nuzzle against his back.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You murmur reverently. “This is my favorite view in all of Monaco.”

Charles turns in your embrace until you’re pressed flush together, hardly daring to breathe. “It is,” he rasps out, getting lost in the depths of your eyes. “But not as beautiful as you.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking down to his lips for a heated moment, before surging up on your tiptoes to capture his mouth in a searing kiss ...

Unbidden, a low groan slips from Charles’ throat as he remembers those heated kisses on the overlook, one thing inexorably leading to another in a heady rush of lust and longing until you were both feverishly tugging at clothes. He swallows hard, feeling himself start to stir beneath the sheets.

That was just the start of the longest, most incredible night of Charles’ life. Your romantic tour had eventually led you both back to the palace, where you scattered a trail of discarded garments across marble floors and lavish furnishings in your wake, completely consumed by your desire for one another.

You press Charles back against the door of your bedroom as soon as you stagger inside, hands roaming hungrily as you devour his mouth in a bruising kiss. Charles groans deeply, fingers tangling in your hair as he spins you both around to walk you back towards the bed ...

A warm weight suddenly drapes itself across Charles’ torso, jolting him from his reverie with a sharp intake of breath. You’re curled against his side, smiling at him with eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep. His heart kicks up a furious gallop as you scoot closer, trailing a path of featherlight kisses along his chest and shoulder.

“Good morning,” you murmur, voice still scratchy and deliciously rumpled sounding. Charles nearly swallows his tongue at the sound — not to mention the fact that he can now feel every luscious curve of your body pressed against his beneath the sheets.

“Morning,” he croaks out, throat gone instantly dry. How is it possible that you look even more beautiful than he remembers?

You laugh softly at his dazed expression as you work your way up the column of his neck, seemingly intent on covering every last inch of bare skin with those incredibly soft lips. “Sleep well?”

Charles manages a strangled noise of agreement just before you capture his mouth in a slow, smoldering kiss. He groans against your lips, looping an arm around your waist to pull you more fully on top of him. Every nerve-ending feels like it’s engulfed in flames.

When you finally break apart, you brace yourself up on your elbows, gazing down at him with bright, sparkling eyes. “Last night was incredible,” you say candidly, tracing the line of his cheekbone with a fingertip. “Thank you for such an amazing first date.”

A low rumble of laughter escapes Charles as he grins up at you, dizzy with happiness. “I should be thanking you. Last night was … just, wow.” He reaches up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear, marveling at how impossibly soft your skin is. “Have I mentioned yet how breathtakingly gorgeous you are?”

Your cheeks flush prettily even as you let out an adorably bashful little giggle that has Charles bewitched. “Charles Leclerc, you beautiful charmer,” you tease, dropping your head to nuzzle against the crook of his neck. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Mmm, I have a few ideas ...” Charles murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. He trails his fingertips up the delicate lines of your spine, reveling in the way it makes you shiver against him.

You lift your head again, pinning him with a look of pure want that steals the breath from Charles’ lungs. “Is that so?” You purr, rolling your hips ever so slightly against his in a way that has him biting back a groan.

“Oui,” he husks out, slipping a hand into your tousled hair to draw your mouth back to his. You melt against him instantly, the kiss rapidly becoming heated and desperate as you both come quickly undone.

With you pressed so tantalizingly close, Charles can feel the heat slowly building between you as he maps every inch of your body with eager hands. Your skin is so silky soft, he can scarcely believe you’re real. Last night’s passion comes roaring back in a tidal wave of desire so potent it nearly overwhelms him.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, clinging to him like a lifeline as you finally join your bodies in a fevered rush. Charles surges up to capture your lips again, unable to get enough of your addictive taste as you move together in perfect synchronicity. Slick skin sliding, breaths mingling, every sensation is heightened and electrified as you make love with an abandon unlike anything Charles has ever experienced ...

A strangled groan tears from Charles’ chest at the memory, his grip reflexively tightening on your hips and pulling you harder against him.

You let out a soft whimper against his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair as you grind deliciously against him in response. Charles feels utterly intoxicated by you — your taste, your scent, the exquisite softness of your skin pressed so enticingly to his.

With one fluid motion, he rolls you both until he’s caging you beneath him on the luxurious sheets. You gaze up at him with eyes gone molten and dark, chests heaving in tandem. The ferocious want simmering between you is nearly tangible.

“You’re so beautiful,” Charles rasps out in reverence, brushing the backs of his fingers along the elegant curve of your jaw. He leans down to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, feeling your rapid pulse fluttering beneath his lips. “Perfect ...”

A soft keen escapes you as you tilt your head back to allow him better access. Every nerve in Charles’ body feels electrified, like his skin is humming with unreleased energy. He’s drunk on you, body and soul.

As his lips blaze a path lower, nuzzling between the delicious swell of your breasts, your back arches sharply up off the bed with a gasp of longing. Your fingers clutch almost painfully at his shoulders as you struggle to pull him even closer.

“Charles … please,” you whimper, voice pitched low and heady with naked yearning.

He slides a hand up your silken thigh in answer, molding his palm to the flare of your hip as you shift restlessly beneath him. You’re warm and pliant and bewitching like this, coming slowly undone under his attentions.

With a ragged groan, Charles surrenders to the inescapable gravitational pull between you, fusing your mouths back together in a searing kiss that instantly turns all-consuming ...

Your nails score lines of delicious fire down his back as he drives into you with deep, powerful strokes, hips snapping together in a primal rhythm. It’s all heat and friction and tangled limbs, the world narrowing down to nothing but the places where your bodies join so intimately.

You keen out his name like a prayer, the sound sending hot shockwaves of lust ricocheting through Charles’s core. Every nerve feels simultaneously set alight and yet thrumming with a paradoxical electric chill, sensations somehow magnified tenfold.

He’ll never get enough of this feeling — of being completely consumed by you, your passion, your overwhelming desire for each other burning so bright that everything else fades away into glorious insignificance ...

A guttural groan is torn from deep in Charles’ throat as your hips roll sensuously against his in wanton invitation. His head drops into the tempting curve of your neck, lips tracing maddeningly along your overheated skin as he struggles to maintain the barest thread of control.

“Y/N,” he rumbles out, your name laced with pure, undisguised reverence. “Mon ange ...”

You cup his face in your hands, forcing his heated gaze back to yours. For a crystalline moment, everything hangs in breathless suspension before you surge up to claim his mouth in a searing, all-consuming kiss.

Like a switch being flipped, the tenuous grip Charles had on his restraint abruptly snaps. A low groan tears from his very soul as he lets the irresistible tide finally pull him under, lost in the relentless thrall of your passion.

Your urgent cries spike higher as Charles’ hips drive forward in a smooth, powerful glide, joining your bodies with exquisite friction. You clutch at him wildly, nails raking lines of delicious fire across his back as the room narrows to nothing but scorching skin and thunderous heartbeats.

At last, the spiraling tension reaches a blinding crescendo, your release crashing over you in shattering waves of pure ecstasy. Charles’ own climax follows swiftly, torn from his very depths with a hoarse shout of your name.

He collapses bonelessly on top of you, lungs heaving like he’s just run a marathon as you both simply cling to each other through the sizzling aftershocks. Sparks still seem to crackle across his nerve endings from your earth-shattering joining.

After an endless stretch of languid moments, Charles finally gathers enough strength to ease himself to the side, gathering you in against his chest. You come willingly, draping yourself over him as he nuzzles into the top of your head and just breathes you in.

“Wow ...” you murmur at last when you’ve recovered enough to speak. A breathless giggle escapes as you press a soft kiss to the hollow of his throat. “And I thought last night was incredible.”

Charles rumbles out a deep chuckle, pressing his smile against your hair as his arms tighten reflexively around you. “Last night was just the warm up, mon cœur,” he husks out, voice still gloriously ragged from your shared passion.

You pull back just enough to gaze at him through heavy-lidded eyes, cheeks delightfully flushed and hair wildly tousled in a way that has Charles’ heart clenching near to bursting. Brushing a knuckle along his jaw, you give him a look rich with teasing promise.

“Well then ... if this is what I give you for winning Monaco,” you trail off meaningfully, letting the words hang suspended as your fingertips trail down the ridges of his abdomen. “I can’t even imagine what you’ll earn when you win the World Championship.”

The low, sultry purr of your tone sends delicious little licks of heat swirling through Charles’ veins despite his delightfully sated state. A wicked grin tugs at his lips as pulls you more fully on top of him again, glorying in your lush curves molded so perfectly against his own.

“Is that a challenge, Princesse?” He rumbles out, dipping his head to nibble along the elegant column of your throat. You let out the most deliciously breathy giggle that has his blood absolutely simmering.

“Mmm, maybe,” you hum out coyly, deft fingers trailing through the short hair at his nape in a way that makes his toes curl. “Although I suppose you’ll just have to win it and find out for yourself ...”

Charles feels a possessive growl rising up from deep within his chest as he abruptly flips you both, pinning your breathless laughter beneath him on the luxurious sheets. Gazing down at you with unbridled adoration blazing in his eyes, he steals another scorching kiss that leaves you both gasping for air.

“Oh, I fully intend to,” he vows fervently, reveling in the way your eyes have gone molten and dark with renewed desire. His hands map every inch of your body with fervent devotion as he leans down to murmur hotly against the shell of your ear.

“And when I do, Princesse … I’m never letting you go.”

[beegalactica]

hot girl tips to be more productive

With a million things to do, where do we find the time? Sometimes it can be so easy to just procrastinate, not do your work and keep pushing it back till it's too late. Let's not do that anymore.

5-minute rule - start small. If you've been putting something off for a long time, trying to commit 1 hour to it can be challenging. You can't do a marathon without a warm-up first! Could you set a timer for 5 minutes to do that task? After 5 minutes if you want to continue, go for it; if you don't, that's okay, because at least you've done 5 minutes today, which is better than 0. Tomorrow or later in the day, try to challenge yourself to do 7 minutes this time, then 10, then 15, and you will get into that rhythm.

Eliminate distractions - it's all because of that damn phone 🙄 but seriously, tech and social media can have such a tight grip over our productivity and our attention. If you cannot control your usage, set app timers that lock the app after you use it for a certain amount of time or delete the app. I've been using a minimalist phone launcher called 'OLauncher' that removes all my icons and makes me manually have to type and search for the app. In the time it takes me to search for the app, I get to ask myself, "What am I looking for? Do I need to use it for something specific or do I just want to scroll?"

Schedule properly - note down all your commitments and non-negotiables in an app like Google Calendar and make sure all your big events are displayed there. Some people can fall into the habit of planning every second of their day, but I instead delegate a few tasks to each day and give myself any time within the day to complete them, the important thing being not when I do them, but that I do them in the end.

Write to-do lists - now this doesn't just mean in-app lists, which are very useful. Physically write them out. I use a scrap piece of paper and I write: "Today I WILL..." and then list all the things I want to get done. Having it written down helps me commit to it more and the feeling of ticking it is so satisfying.

Know your WHY - Why are you doing this? Why do you want to be more productive? Why do you want to study more? Always look at the bigger picture. Where do you want to be and how will your productivity help you get there?

Celebrate your wins - whether you completed all the things on your to-do list or just one, be proud of it. Some days, you will feel super motivated and fly through all your tasks, and other days you just want to stay in bed and do nothing. Making an effort is the first step to your success.

No matter whether your goal is to complete a project, get good grades, get into the school of your dreams, or just get your work out of the way so you can focus on other things, tackle it little by little. Just 20 minutes every day for a week is better than trying to do 140 minutes worth of work on the last day.

[little-jana]

"Three Times is a Charm"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: awkwardness?, sweet kisses, use of y/n

Words: 3,5k

Summary: Meeting Spencer Reid was like stumbling upon a rare book—unexpected and thrilling. Our paths crossed not once, not twice, but three times in the most peculiar ways.

I didn’t mean to end up at that bookstore. It wasn’t on my list of errands, and truthfully, I didn’t even know it existed until I spotted the faded sign hanging above the shop door: Old Tomes & New Beginnings—Clearance Sale. There was something irresistible about it, the promise of stories hidden in dusty corners. My car could wait, and my to-do list wasn’t going anywhere. So, I pushed the creaky door open and stepped inside.

The air inside was pleasantly warm, and the aroma of vanilla candles mixed with the familiar scent of old books. I could almost hear the stories whispering to each other, nestled in their places on the wooden shelves. A small bell chimed as the door closed behind me, announcing my arrival. The shop was a maze of tall wooden bookshelves, most sagging slightly under the weight of the books they held, their spines worn from years of handling. It was the kind of place that invited you to stay for hours, to get lost in forgotten pages and dusty memories. And that's exactly what I did. I wandered, my fingers trailing along the spines, occasionally pulling a book down and skimming through its pages before deciding to leave it behind.

Then, my eyes landed on it: Pride and Prejudice —not a rare edition or a first printing, but a well-loved copy with a faded cover and yellowing pages. There was something about it that felt inviting, as if it had been waiting for me to pick it up. I reached for it, standing on my tiptoes, trying to stretch my fingers far enough to grasp the spine. But the stack of books around it was precariously arranged, and as I nudged it, the entire tower of books began to shift.

"No, no, no!" I muttered under my breath, trying to stabilize the pile, but it was too late. The books tumbled one by one, crashing to the ground with a series of loud thuds.

"Are you okay?" a voice called from behind me.

I froze, looking over my shoulder to see a tall, slightly disheveled man crouched down, his hands already gathering the fallen books. His brown hair was messy, and his glasses perched on the edge of his nose as if they might fall off at any second. He was dressed in a cardigan that looked like it belonged in an old library, and his slightly awkward but genuine expression caught me off guard.

"I think so," I said, still kneeling. "Though it seems the books have declared war on me."

The man smiled faintly, then held out a hardcover to me. "Here," he said. "This one seems to have missed the fall."

I glanced at the title. It was Pride and Prejudice. A knowing smile tugged at the corner of my lips. "You have good taste."

"Jane Austen is a classic," he said, a little too earnestly. "Not to mention a master at subtle social commentary. And Mr. Darcy’s arc... Well, it’s iconic."

I raised an eyebrow. "You really are a fan of Austen’s work, aren't you?"

He looked slightly embarrassed but managed to maintain eye contact. "Guilty as charged," he said. "I’m Spencer, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Spencer," I replied. "I’m [y/n]." We exchanged a polite smile, and he moved to help me collect the remaining books. Once we were both standing, I found myself glancing back at Pride and Prejudice, wondering if I should buy it, but I didn’t want to seem too eager.

"You know," Spencer said with a slight hesitation, "I think Pride and Prejudice is the perfect book for someone who wants a little bit of everything. Romance, wit, social critique..."

I looked at him with a playful smile. "You’ve clearly done your homework."

"I suppose I have," he replied, looking sheepish.

Before I could say anything else, he gave a quick nod. "Well, I should probably leave you to the rest of your book shopping. Enjoy the rest of your day."

As he turned to leave, I couldn’t help but watch him disappear down one of the aisles. There was something about him—something intriguing, something different.

---

A week later, I found myself standing in line at my usual coffee shop, juggling my phone, keys, and a to-do list. It was a Monday morning, and the place was packed with people trying to start their day. The smell of freshly ground coffee beans and baked pastries filled the air as I anxiously checked the time on my phone, wondering if I’d make it to my meeting on time.

As I finally reached the counter to pick up my drink, I turned to make my way to a nearby table. That’s when I collided with someone. My coffee cup slipped from my hand in a perfect arc toward the floor.

"Watch out!" I cried, but it was too late. The hot coffee splashed across the table, narrowly missing the man standing in front of me.

He quickly stepped back, raising his hands in an attempt to shield himself, but the damage had already been done. I froze for a second, staring at the coffee stain spreading across the table.

"Oh no, I’m so sorry!" I exclaimed, feeling my face flush with embarrassment.

The man bent down and grabbed a napkin to start mopping up the spill. I blinked. There was something about this scenario that felt... familiar.

"Twice in one week?" I asked, still stunned. "Are you following me, Spencer?"

He looked up, his eyes widening in shock. "No! I swear, I’m not stalking you!" He paused, looking around at the busy café. "I mean, I do come here often, but I don’t think it’s quite the same thing."

I couldn’t help but laugh, the awkwardness of the moment suddenly lifting. "Same here. But I guess we just keep running into each other."

He gave a sheepish grin. "Maybe we’re just... fated to meet by accident."

I gestured to the table behind me. "Do you want to sit with me? It’s the least I can do since I’ve made a mess of your morning."

Spencer looked a bit hesitant but then shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

As we sat down and chatted, the conversation turned from the coffee mishap to our work. I learned he worked for the FBI—profiling, specifically—and was part of a team that investigated serious crimes. I couldn’t help but be impressed. His intelligence and passion for his job were evident in the way he talked about his cases, even though he seemed more humble than I expected.

We exchanged stories about our favorite books and movies, discovering that we had quite a few shared interests. Despite his shy demeanor, Spencer’s intelligence and sense of humor shone through. I found myself laughing more than I had in a long time, and before I knew it, hours had passed.

“Looks like I’ve kept you from your plans,” Spencer said, glancing at the clock and looking a bit guilty.

I waved him off. "No, I’m glad we talked. Let’s do this again sometime."

As we parted ways, I found myself secretly hoping that I’d bump into him again—preferably without any coffee mishaps. Gladly, we got to exchange numbers.

---

Two weeks later, Spencer invited me on a spontaneous picnic. I was hesitant at first; after all, Spencer wasn’t exactly the type to suggest spontaneous outdoor activities. But when he mentioned his favorite park and that he'd packed us both lunch, I couldn’t say no.

We met early on a Saturday morning, the sun barely peeking over the trees. Spencer had a basket in hand, looking as if he’d stepped straight out of a vintage romance movie. His cardigan, now unbuttoned, fluttered slightly in the morning breeze. He had a nervous energy about him, which I found endearing.

“I may have overpacked,” he said, setting the basket down next to a picnic blanket.

I raised an eyebrow. “What’s in there? Enough food to feed an army?”

“Well, no. Just enough food to feed two people who might be hungry after talking about random trivia for hours,” Spencer replied with a smile, clearly amused by his own self-awareness.

We settled down on the blanket, the sounds of the park around us—children laughing, birds chirping, and the distant hum of traffic—mixing with the peaceful vibe of our little picnic. Spencer unpacked the basket, revealing an assortment of sandwiches, chips, and fresh fruit.

“Did you make all this?” I asked, impressed by the spread he’d laid out.

Spencer flushed slightly. “Well, I mean, I don’t cook a lot, but I thought sandwiches would be simple enough. The fruit is from a local farm stand.”

“You’ve got good taste,” I said, picking up a sandwich. “You sure you’re not a secret chef?”

He laughed. “I think my talents lie more in... making the perfect cup of coffee and identifying obscure book quotes. Cooking’s not my thing.”

“I’m not complaining,” I said, taking a bite of the sandwich. “Everything’s delicious.”

For the next few hours, we talked about everything and nothing. We shared little-known facts—Spencer told me about his favorite historical figures and how fascinated he was by World War II espionage. I laughed and chimed in with my own trivia, telling him about random facts I’d read in articles or heard in podcasts.

Every so often, I’d glance over at him and see how deeply he was listening, his full attention on me. It was a quiet, comfortable feeling—one I hadn’t realized I needed in my life. I hadn’t had many deep conversations with people outside my closest circle, but with Spencer, it felt effortless.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the park, we packed up the basket and sat together for a few moments longer. It wasn’t about rushing to the next activity but savoring the peacefulness of the moment. Just us, sharing a space without the pressure of anything else.

“You know,” Spencer said after a while, his voice quieter now, “I think I could get used to this.”

I looked at him, heart swelling with affection. “Me too. I’m glad we did this.”

He smiled, his eyes sparkling under the fading sunlight. “Maybe we could make it a regular thing,” he suggested, and I felt the warmth of his words settle inside me.

“That sounds perfect,” I replied, squeezing his hand, and for a moment, I couldn’t help but feel like everything was finally falling into place.

---

From that point on, our meetings became a little less accidental and a lot more intentional. We made plans to see each other every weekend, enjoying more quiet moments, long conversations, and shared laughter. Spencer’s nervousness faded as he became more comfortable around me, and I couldn’t help but fall even harder for him.

One day, after another one of our cozy park picnics, Spencer turned to me with that signature smile that always made my heart flutter.

“I think we’ve made it a habit,” he said, his voice light and teasing.

“Yeah,” I agreed, squeezing his hand. “A really good habit.”

We both leaned back against the blanket, the soft rustling of the trees above and the golden glow of the setting sun casting a warm light around us. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between us, but it was the kind of silence that spoke volumes. I could feel the closeness between us growing stronger, like something was just waiting to happen.

Spencer’s gaze lingered on me, and there was a softness in his eyes that made my heart skip a beat. He seemed almost hesitant, his lips parted slightly, like he was debating something in his mind.

Without saying anything, I slowly leaned in, my heart racing, and before I could second-guess myself, I brushed my lips against his. It was gentle, like a quiet promise, and for a moment, everything else faded away. It was just him and me, the cool breeze, the sound of our breathing, and the feeling of everything clicking into place.

When we pulled away, I saw the same warm, amused smile on Spencer’s face. He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“That was... nice,” he said softly, as if he was surprised by the simplicity and sweetness of the moment.

I smiled, my cheeks flushed. “Yeah. It was.”

“I think this might just be my favorite habit of all,” he whispered.

I leaned in again, this time not hesitating, and kissed him once more—this time a little deeper, a little more certain.

As we parted again, I felt like the world had shifted in the most beautiful way. With Spencer, everything felt natural, easy, like this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

We settled back into the blanket, hands intertwined, not needing to say anything else. The sun dipped lower in the sky, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like time was slipping away. It felt like we had all the time in the world.

[auroralwriting]

coffee

spencer reid x fem!reader

spencer always feels better when you make him coffee to cheer him up. auroral writing's fallidays masterlist

word count: 1k

warnings: season 2 spencer, no use of y/n, show-accurate spencer aka he’s a little, sweet nerd, comfort but no angst

Sometimes, having your boyfriend at home was worse than missing him while he was on a case. Spencer would be exhausted from time to time, varying on the case they worked on. It wasn’t easy to see your love so beat down so often. He promised it was just jet lag, but deep down, you knew some of the cases bothered him, too.

Late last night, Spencer arrived back home. Whenever he was gone, you’d stay at his apartment to water his plants and make sure the place was top notch by the time he came home. He had slipped into bed with you while you slept, not wanting to disturb your peace.

When you woke up, your heart fluttered seeing your genius lying next to you. The dark circles around his eyes were more prominent than they usually were. He didn’t even change out of his clothes.

It was clear that his thoughts were heavy, even deep in sleep. You wondered how bad this case was. What always cheered Spencer up was a nice, warm cup of coffee in the morning. So, you decided that's what you'd do; make him a nice, warm cup to make him feel better.

You got up slowly, making sure to take soft steps in order to not wake Spencer up. You opened his dresser drawers and laid him out a tee shirt and some plaid pajama pants so he could get comfortable when he woke up.

Once that was done, you went into his kitchen and turned on his record player, some soft classical music filling the empty room. The tunes help occupy the space as you worked on breakfast.

The coffee pot beeped off when you heard soft creaks from Spencer’s bedroom.

You grabbed his mug, one catered to the way he made his coffee, and carefully walked into the bedroom once more. Spencer’s eyes softened when he looked at you. He rubbed his eyes, giving his iconic soft, goofy smile.

“G’morning, love.” Spencer muttered, softly stretching as he sat up.

Cheeks tinted with red, you sat on the side of the bed with the mug in hand. “Morning, Spence. I made you some coffee, fresh out of the pot.”

Spencer took a sip, a low hum coming from his throat. “Perfect,” he mused.

“Long case?” You asked, brushing a piece of his hair back from his forehead.

“Very much so,” Spencer nodded. He grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and pushed them up the bridge of his nose. “Statistically, ninth percent of victims gone within the first day or two are found safely. Ours had been gone a full week.”

Your heart lurched in your chest, you knew what he meant. “You all tried your best, honey.” You tried to comfort. “Did you catch him?”

“Yeah,” Spencer nodded, a sigh of relief following his next sip of coffee. “This is really good.”

“I made it just the same,” you chuckled.

Spencer gave a small shrug with a hint of a smile on hips lips. “It tasted better when I know it’s to make me feel better.”

“If it helps, I also made blueberry pancakes.” Spencer’s smile grew at your words. “Now, get comfy and come have breakfast with me. I’m starving.”

After a few minutes, Spencer walked out of the room. “You put on Beethoven,” he smiled. You knew that was his favorite composer. Spencer sat down, eagerly taking a bite of the food you prepared for him. “Baby, it’s so good,”

You smiled at his compliment, “I’m glad, Spence.”

“Let me make dinner tonight as a thank you,” Spencer said, swallowing the food in his mouth. “Please?”

No matter how many times you did nice things for him, Spencer always wanted to repay you. That’s one of the many reasons you loved him so much. He was always fair, kind, and truly the most loving man you’d ever met in your life. Your relationship was built off of love, trust, and balance. It was perfection.

“How could I ever say no to that face?” You giggled at the dopey smile he wore.

"How about more breakfast for dinner," Spencer offered, taking a sip from his mug. "I can make us cinnamon rolls, hot chocolate, and maybe today we can go out and get an apple pie, too."

Your face lit up at the thought, "You really do love me, don't you?"

Spencer laughed, "With every bone in my body."

"That coffee really helped your mood, huh?" You put your head on your hand as you stared lovingly at your boyfriend. What a perfect man he was.

"It did," Spencer admitted, "but the fact that you made it and did all of this for me is what really helped."

Once you were both finished eating, you and Spencer snuggled on the couch, a large blanket laying over top of both of your laps. You were both cuddled in the middle, laughing at the tv as you watched Halloweentown. It was the perfect fall day outside, and you both were on your second mugs of coffee.

"Don't we still need to go to the store?" Spencer asked as he played with a strand of your hair.

You softly hummed in reply, "It's noon, we still have time."

"Well, there's still several more Halloweentown movies to watch," Spencer replied with a smile. "At this rate, we'll never go to the store."

"A late midnight snack, then." You decided. "This is too nice to just give up."

Spencer pressed a kiss to your forehead, "I agree. I could go for a big midnight snack."

Even when you went to go to the store, more around seven, you stopped off at the local coffee place to grab a cup from them. They were just about to close, but it was worth it to see the look on Spencer's face.

The last cup of coffee was served at just a little past midnight as the two of you sat on the couch, criss crossed, eating cinnamon rolls and apple pie. Your mugs were still smoking from the heat of the coffee.

Spencer gently grabbed your chin, giving you a warm kiss. You tasted the icing on his lips from the cinnamon rolls.

"Thank you," Spencer said softly. "For today and the coffee."

"I'd do anything for you, Spencer." You replied with a small smile settling on your lips.

[morganitering]

Because I'm the Weakest

Pairing: yandere!Satosugu x fem!reader

Warnings: Rape/non-con, Dead dove, darkfic, dissociation, trauma, rape fantasy, rape aftermath, vomiting (not during sex), unhealthy relationships, non-consensual drug usage, drugged sex, canon typical violence, sexism, implied/referenced alcohol usage/abuse

Contains: F/M/M, spitroasting, oral sex, penis in vagina sex, blow jobs, face-sitting, come play, overstimulation, voyeurism, slight size kink, humiliation/degradation, vaginal fingering, mentioned Nanami.

Word count: ~6,5k

Summary: Growing up as a female sorcerer has not been easy, especially when you are overshadowed by two prodigies. You used to form a tight-knit friend group, but now in adulthood everyone battled their own demons whether it be a god complex or feelings of inferiority. Gojo Satoru revives a group chat that was almost long forgotten, inviting you and his boyfriend for a long weekend, just like the old days. Before the regrettable night, you wouldn't have ever thought that you'd need to raise a fist against a friend.

A/N: Hey everyone, another fic but this time featuring our two favorite dudes with insanity turned to the max. This fic is once again full of warnings and proceed with caution and read the tags! Remember to take care of yourself. Otherwise enjoy and feel free to like and comment <3

read on ao3 PART II

“Booring,” Satoru complained audibly as he looked through the streaming services’ different movies and series. The little icons changed from bombshell babes to twisted faces with titles written in blood. He was sprawled over the corner of a ridiculously huge couch and he was wiggling his foot as a nervous tick of his. He wasn’t wearing his usual garb, instead he had opted for something more relaxed and comfortable.

“If you’re so bored you should help us out in the kitchen,” Suguru sighed, his black hair draping over his shoulders, still slightly wet from the shower he had taken earlier. When you had pointed out that he was leaving droplets of water everywhere where he went, Suguru had just smiled at you and told you that it’s better for hair to air dry.

He held a knife in his right hand and the other one held onto a cucumber to keep it in place. His fingers were slender but by no means unmanly. Suguru wasn’t too fixated on the vegetable in front of him, chopping away with confidence only experience would provide.

“And where would the fun be in that since I got you two as my private chefs?” Satoru pouted as he shoveled candy in his face.

“You’re going to lose your appetite, if you eat candy now,” you chimed in, poking the halloumi that kept on sizzling on the pan. The water evaporated in a mist that warmed your cheeks in the cool apartment. It wasn’t actually cold in the open plan kitchen, but you had spent long enough in front of the appliances to break a sweat.

“I’d eat it anyway,” the white haired man whined as he got up from the couch finally settling on a tv series that started playing mindlessly in the background. “So, what am I supposed to do?” He asked after grabbing a piece of pomegranate from a small see through bowl. He walked behind you both like a shark, eyeing the ingredients and you, uncomfortably close.

“Set the table and learn to bitch less,” you joked.

“You wound me,” Satoru said, feigning sadness, but did as he was told.

The three of you were residing in an apartment that Satoru had bought himself from one of the skyscrapers surrounding Tokyo. After Jujutsu High it had gotten increasingly hard for the three of you to meet as adult responsibilities weighed heavily on both of their shoulders, – especially Satoru’s, but you saw the similar pain carried in Suguru just as well.

You were not weak, but you could not compare to the two prodigies. On the days when you felt down, the pain of third wheeling constantly ate you up, sometimes so much so that you rather left the two men talking together in the group chat. It furthered the wedge between you and them, until the messages became sparse and you almost could pretend not to know them.

It had been six months since the last time you met, but one day Satoru broke the silence and a notification popped up from your shared chat. It had taken you by a surprise, you were vaguely aware that even him and Suguru had issues with fitting each other in their lives, due to individual missions and what not. So the fact that Satoru decided to deliberately send a message to you as well, got you anxiously excited. He reached out to you. You. A high school friend that barely kept in touch with him.

“Guys! I refuse to work this weekend so come to my place. Let’s have a get together like the good old times ❤️ ❤️?? A little sleepover if you will!”

“Lol what about the higher ups?” Suguru had asked, typing back way too fast.

“Actually never mind I don’t want to be made into an accomplice in your crimes,” Suguru had continued.

“Am I invited too?” You had asked, hands shaking slightly as you stared at the bright screen, already tucked into bed. It was late, but Satoru was a known night owl.

“Damn, what have I done to earn this type of reputation 😭” Satoru complained, reacting to both your and Suguru’s message. You could hear his voice as if he was there in the same room as you.

“Of course you are invited, silly. I wouldn’t send this here if you weren’t.”

So now you were there, living an almost ridiculously domestic life with the couple that you had been hanging out with ever since you were sixteen. They had not changed too much. They were still both tall and slender but years had rid them of the rest of the baby fat as they started to resemble more men than boys, vigorous fighting showing in their bodies in an ever gained muscle mass. You supposed you were the same too. Battle hardened. That’s the word you were looking for.

You were just about to sit down but you saw long limbs reaching out to the white chair pulling it backwards. You looked at Satoru with a raised eyebrow. He was acting weird.

“What? I’m a host. I’m being hospitable,” he said, voice melodic as he pressed his hand on your shoulder to pet your arm reassuringly a few times. Suguru laughed quietly as he sat down next to Satoru.

You ate and drank, buzzing with energy. It was like no time had passed and you wondered why did you ever stop talking to these two. After a drink or two you were brave enough to ask for some hot gossip. Like every high school friend, you went through old drama, like how ugly Nanami’s haircut used to be.

“Has Nanami found love yet?” You had asked. He seemed like the type to find a decent relationship first out of all of you, but to everyone’s surprise it was these two men.

“Do you still have a crush on him? I heard that he’s quite a looker nowadays” Suguru bounced a question back at you with a smile tugging on his lips. It was that one expression that looked a tad too kind.

“No, I don’t. I was just curious,” you tried to move on from the subject. You did not really discuss your relationship history with these two, at least not anymore.

“Why?” Suguru asked, leaning on the hand he had placed on the table. The atmosphere felt off, it was as if he was challenging you. You looked at Satoru who seemed to be equally as interested in your answer.

You scratched your neck awkwardly.

“I- I think he’s too soft,” you said blushing at the implication of your words. You had turned your gaze to your almost empty bowl, your mind going to improper places. As you were buried in your embarrassment, Satoru and Suguru shared a silent look with each other.

At some point during the evening you had moved to the white haired man’s bedroom. He wanted to show you the view from the window since he lived on the 30th floor. It was magnificent. The busy streets were bustling even during the night and you stared at the small lights that blinked in different colors. Your eyes followed the cars that swerved left and right as some people were gathered up in front of bars for a smoke break. You barely could make them out from the height you were in.

Satoru’s bedroom was basically the size of someone’s apartment. The bed was huge and sleek, unlike the common area. This room was a lot moodier and darker and it actually showed that he lived here, small bits and bobs decorating shelves and few paintings were hung up on the wall that you reckoned were Suguru’s taste.

Your drinks had changed from light cocktails to expensive red wine that you were almost scared to consume, but when Satoru saw hesitation in you he made a point to assure you that it’s all on him and after that almost instantaneously Suguru asked you something, leaving you no room to overthink.

The uneasiness still followed you. It was a gut feeling that you were really bad at listening to. You did not believe you were in danger – at least you’d like to think that as a jujutsu sorcerer you’d be trained to recognize threats by now. Luckily the red wine relaxed you, lulling you to the feeling of safety.

The volume of music was loud as the three of you listened to some throwback songs that still made you shamelessly want to dance. You were celebrating embarrassingly in Satoru’s room laughing, swaying your bodies along with the beat. It was as if you were in a club, except this was way more intimate. The world spinned around you, the warm lights mixed with the glimpses of the night sky and the longer outlines of your friends. You felt light, time slowing down and going overspeed at the same time as if you were alone on the highway. Your friends’ smiles stretched on their faces, eyes twinkling manically as both of the men appeared to you in double. Eventually when you tired each other out the whole group collapsed on the bed still humming happily. Satoru’s bed was plush and big enough to have room for the three of you.

You noted the way the silk felt like a warm hug underneath you, the ceiling moving like a slithering snake’s skin on savannah.

Satoru was lying on his back on the left side of you, his white hair now more tousled than before whereas Suguru was on the right leaving you in the middle of the two men.

“I think we should play a question game,” Satoru’s voice was bordering on a whisper. The music had stopped.

You stayed silent. “Satoru, I’m not feeling too good,” you managed to say. The bed was a ship and you were a passenger of the sea.

“I didn’t know you’re that lightweight,” Satoru’s hand reached out to your head to pet you, the gesture meant to lower your guards, but in your ever increasing discomfort, his touch only managed to make your skin tingle with aversion.

“Just humor us for a bit, it could be like the good old days, right?” Suguru argued, flashing a dead smile at you.

“Okay, whatever. Ask me something,” you rolled your eyes, too tired to fight them in your weird mental and physical stage.

“Hmm,” Satoru turned to his side to face you, his blue gaze piercing yours as you were still laying on your back. You had no idea when he had removed his sunglasses. You heard Suguru moving next to you as well. “What do you mean by Nanami being too soft?” The way Satoru laid down the question was impish.

The tone of the conversation had taken a full one-eighty and you opened your mouth to answer with only lies on the tip of your tongue, but then you decided against that. Those two had a very good bullshit radar.

“Do you want to hear what I think?” Satoru grinned playfully as he licked his plump lips once.

“I think Nanami would bore you out of your mind, missionary on Mondays without the lights on? Ugh, I wouldn’t want that for my worst enemy,” he said, laughter hollow full of malice. You couldn’t believe your own ears.

“I think you want it rough and behind that tough girl act, there’s an insatiable woman with some wild fantasies,” he blabbered his obscene thoughts. “Tell me, have you ever had sex with two men?” Gojo’s voice was loud and it was as if he was talking to you from a speaker that had been locked in another room. He was too close, too far away and simultaneously too here.

“What the-” you got cut off.

“Don’t curse. It’s unseemly from a woman,” Geto said calmly.

“Answer me,” Gojo demanded. During high school you would have described Gojo’s eyes as a beautiful spring day. You would have said that he reminded you of blue skies with perfectly white fluffy clouds, but now his eyes had turned to something much paler and darker. They reminded you of deep untouched snow drifts turned to blue in the moonlight as they sparkled ominously, waiting for the first little animal that dared to break the pristine condition.

“What did you do to me?” Your voice was not your own, it was weak, the accusation of your words turning dull as the red wine you had drank earlier sanded the edges away.

“Nothing permanent,” Geto said.

His admittance striked terror in you. Realization hit you, you were not safe here and you felt the familiar warmth flowing in you like a second nature. You manipulated the cursed energy, channeled it and let it flow steadily in your body guiding the power to your hands, but something in it felt unstable, it felt like a chord that was almost broken just barely connecting.

“Did you know that some drugs really affect the ability to use cursed energy? Not that it would matter in your case,” Geto explained, his voice overflowing around you, sticking to your skin like honey.

“Fuck you!” You yelled letting out a gust of wind to both sides, throwing the two men away from you. They landed nimbly to the floor, like cats, as you yourself hopped up from the bed, your vision blurred, walls moving back and forth, small figurines on the shelves changing color others dancing in front of your eye lids. Your head ached, pain banging against your skull, gnawing at the nerve endings that sent panic infused messages across your body, screaming: Stop moving!

“Oh so you want to spar? Go on then, show me what you have,” Geto purred.

It was a pathetic attempt in your current state. Your feet took you towards the door that Geto had come to protect. Hands and feet clashed together in close combat as you drew your cursed energy that was flickering unevenly in your body. Every time you got too close to escaping either Geto or Gojo kicked you further away.

The white haired bastard wasn’t even using his infinity which only added salt to your wounds. He deliberately chose to prance around you, letting you at times touch him a wild smile on his face. There was no cursed energy, no flashy techniques, just you and two overpowered men.

“Do you remember what they said in school when facing someone stronger than you?” Gojo asked, dodging your fist.

“Don’t be a hero,” Geto grabbed your arm and twisted it painfully behind you. “Contact someone better equipped to handle it,” he said and shoved you forwards with a force so great that you staggered towards Gojo’s table with the MacBook wobbling with force earning a “Hey, that’s my computer!” protest from the man himself.

The lights went out with a sound of shattering glass, leaving the three of you enveloped in the darkness, only city lights illuminating the room. Disorientated by the sudden change in environment you froze, breathing heavily as the two men practically surrounded you. Gojo appeared in front of you not a hair out of place.

“And with that, you’re dead. You really should not get distracted during training,” the white haired man shared his advice talking to you with the same tone he used on his pupils. “Truce?” He offered his hand.

You looked up. There was something sinister about the way they hovered over you. Geto’s beautiful prince-like features had turned harsh and angular, the shadows sharpening his face even more. You swallowed a bunch of bile, the effects of forcing yourself to move taking place.

“The power disparity is too big,” Geto said. He almost pitied you. You were a smart girl, you’d figure the best move soon.

You grabbed the hand bitterly. Gojo helped you up and Geto wrapped his arm around your waist when you were about to fall again.

“Careful,” he mumbled, his hand trailing underneath your shirt. His touch felt cold against your burning skin that was damp from sweat. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” he taunted.

“Take her shirt off. I’ve waited long enough,” Gojo said impatiently, tapping his foot on the floor.

“Always so demanding,” Geto chuckled as he worked your shirt up, unclasping your bra unceremoniously, your breasts now free for the two men to ogle.

“Perfect tits,” Gojo said as he pawed at you and played with your nipples. You were completely overwhelmed and out of energy. Luckily, you did not have to stand on your own as Geto helped you to stay up his hands unzipping your jeans.

“Why me?” You squeaked your head drooping in defeat as you looked at Geto’s hand that vanished underneath your panties, your trousers still on you. Your question went unanswered.

“Satoru I think you might have been right about your theory,” You felt Geto’s smile on your neck as he referenced the earlier conversation regarding Nanami.

“Really? Is she wet?” Gojo asked curiously.

“Soaking,” Geto said as he explored your soft folds with ease. “Did fighting us make you feel better about what’s going to happen? At least you can tell your friends that you did not break easy,” Geto mumbled onto your skin pressing kisses to your neck, his hand still working on you going up and down tantalizing on your slit.

Gojo dropped to his knees pulling down the rest of your clothes. A whimper left your mouth as you shook your head powerlessly.

“Lift her leg up,” Gojo instructed. Geto slid his hand behind your right knee, lifting it up till you were wobbling on one foot as you leaned on him for support. The white haired man had his lips slightly apart as he looked in awe at the sight unfolding in front of him. His mouth was watering as Geto maneuvered his hand back to your folds, spreading them in front of Gojo’s face so that his boyfriend could take a long hard look at everything you were offering.

You saw the gears turning in Gojo’s head as his expression turned to a mischievous one. “I want her to sit on my face,” he licked his lips and made his way to the bed, throwing the shirt on the floor.

“Can you move?” Geto asked as he let go of your leg, holding onto your trembling body. He tipped your head towards him, his face looking almost worried. It reminded you of the old times, but this was not the old Suguru. This was someone new. Twisted.

He helped you to the bed, where Gojo had been waiting, completely naked, his chest heaving in anticipation. Your eyes scanned him from head to toe, stopping at his cock that had already started to curve upwards. It already looked big, bigger than anything you had ever taken.

“Like what you see baby? Cause me too,” Gojo said jokingly. “Well, come here then or do you want to fuck us dry? Because I’m fine with that,” he hurried you, the threat looming over you.

You climbed on top of him, saddling his face. Gojo’s hands immediately grabbed at your ass, pulling you towards his mouth. You could imagine the pink tip of his tongue trying out where you were the most sensitive. He was too impatient to tease you, quickly finding the bundle of nerves that was begging for his attention. He lapped at it as obscenely wet noises filled the room. Gojo sucked on your clit and you moaned loudly, throwing your head back, a sheen layer of sweat on you.

You felt him hum into your cunt as you felt the weight shift behind you on the mattress, Geto’s hand moving on Satoru’s length, pumping it roughly.

“You see, Satoru here is a bit of a munch. He is loud during the day, but put a cock in his mouth and it works wonders at silencing him. Apparently he likes the taste of pussy too,” Geto said with a devious smile on his lips. Gojo groaned animalistically into your wet heat as the black haired man felt his own hardness straining against his boxers. It took everything in his power to not to take off his clothes and fuck you till you were cock drunk and babbling incoherently, but he had too much fun playing with you.

“How does it feel like having the strongest sorcerer lapping you up like a regular man?” Geto’s voice was just a hush in your ear. “Men and women around the globe are going to be jealous when they hear that Gojo Satoru wanted to stick his dick in you,” Geto taunted you both as his hand focused on rotating around Satoru’s tip, spreading out the drops of precome around his cock. Satoru bucked his hips up involuntarily.

You came. Hard. You thrashed around Gojo’s head as the man between your legs held onto you stubbornly, licking and sucking through your orgasm. You felt something warm trickling straight to his face as the pressure in the lower half of your body exploded. Your voice was high pitched and desperate as you rode his face till you were sore, your already weak legs giving out.

Gojo pushed you off of him, gasping for air, pupils blown out in arousal. His face glistened in your juices and his saliva.

“You know what, for a man who’s shaming me for being talkative, you sure speak a lot yourself Suguru,” he pointed out. Suguru laughed, honest to god laughed, his eyes squinting contently as Satoru pulled him into a kiss.

There was something incredibly erotic watching the two men, knowing that Geto would taste the remnants of you as their lips smacked together messily. Their bodies tangled together, black hair flowing around white as Gojo buried his hand in Geto’s luscious strands. Gojo pulled his boyfriend’s face up gently exposing the bobbing Adam's apple that he kissed reverently. It was now Geto’s turn to saddle Gojo.

“I think you need to take your clothes off. Give her a little show,” Satoru said, biting into the skin on Suguru’s clavicle as his hands fumbled with the black haired man’s belt that opened with a clink.

Geto pulled his black t-shirt over his head, his taut muscles flexing. It felt like forever when Gojo caressed the man on top of him, his face in a constant grin. He took down the boxers inch by inch until Geto’s cock sprang out after being suppressed inside his clothes for too long.

“Get on fours,” Gojo ordered as you clumsily did what he told you to. He moved behind you whereas Geto took place in front of you.

“Arch your back.”

You stretched yourself, lowering your torso and propping your butt up almost as if you were offering yourself on a silver platter. Gojo’s hand came down to your ass with force making your body jerk when he dug his nails on the soft skin.

“Wow, you must fuck a lot of dudes judging by how low you can go. If I knew you were a whore, I would have bent you over earlier,” he laughed, his finger prodding on your entrance.

Geto pulled you from your hair. It wasn’t the nice kind of pain that came when one would grab them near the scalp; instead it stung like hell, when Geto yanked your head up, putting you on the perfect level of his cock.

Gojo inserted one finger simultaneously inside you and almost immediately added another. You whined as his fingers scissored you open, your lips almost touching the head of Geto.

“You know, I get to lie with this amazing man every day. Show him the same respect as I do,” Gojo said. Had you not been caught up in their fucked up power play, their love for each other would have truly warmed your heart.

Geto’s thumb stroked your cheek as if to apologize for what was about to happen. He let his hand trail down to your bottom lip, swiping across it gently.

“Open.”

Satoru pushed his hand almost knuckles deep into you, a guttural moan making its escape from your lips as he used his hand to finger fuck you. Geto used your opening mouth to his advantage to stuff his cock in you. He was huge, your jaw already hurting. His tangy taste spreaded in your mouth as he softly rocked back and forth, not wanting to choke you just yet.

You hollowed out your cheeks and focused on the tip of his cock as you used one of your hands to touch what you could not fit. Geto’s eyes were half lidded as he guided your head to a rhythm that he liked as you squirmed underneath Gojo’s touch.

Gojo removed his hand from you leaving you empty, you almost missed the sensation of him, but soon felt the man behind you poking your folds with something much bigger than his fingers. You mewled in panic when he entered you, your eyes widening in shock. God he was huge.

“Focus. Eyes up here,” Geto said, patting your cheek with an open palm. The way you looked up at him made Suguru feel close to high, your pupils widened to the size of a plate, eyes glistening in tears that you held back, still holding onto a sliver of pride. Brave girl, he thought to himself.

Gojo fucked you sloppily, squelching, slapping and your gurgling filling the room as both the men used your body to chase their own highs. You felt like you were drowning and when one withdrew the other one rammed into you without a second thought. It was hard to keep your attention on Geto when his boyfriend did everything in his power to make your task at hand challenging, when his long cock grazed upon that one spot inside you from time to time.

“I’m going to finish in your mouth,” Geto was out of breath, his grip tightened around your skull. Gojo groaned behind you with his fingers digging into your hips. You were sure that you’d have handprints tattooed on your skin by the end of this night.

Geto’s movement got erratic, his cock hitting the back of your throat making you gag around him painfully. The black haired man relished in the wet warmth your mouth provided him. He was panting as pleasure coursed through him, your despaired moans only driving him further. Hot stripes of his come coated your mouth. You wanted to spit it out, or swallow it, anything to get rid of it as your face soured in disgust.

“Keep it in your mouth,” he advised as he pulled out of you. You almost wanted to spit it on his face as an act of defiance. Geto smiled at the confrontational look on your face as if he knew what you were thinking. “Good girl,” he purred when you had decided not to go against him.

Gojo flipped you quickly around to lie on your back, your legs floating in the air awkwardly as he entered back into you swiftly. He pulled you in a feverish kiss, his soft lips slightly swollen. His tongue prodded inside your mouth, Suguru’s come spreading into his mouth as you explored each other. It felt disgusting, playing with someone’s fluids like this, but somehow it made your cunt clench around your white haired high school friend.

There was something deeply primal in the way Gojo drove into you, his head almost resting on yours as he fucked you deep and hard. You were vaguely aware of Geto’s eyes following the act in front of him, admiring the way Satoru’s muscles moved with every move, drinking up the disheveled look on you.

Satoru’s hips came to halt as he plastered his seed on your walls, making sure that he wasn’t too deep, keeping his thrusts shallow enough so he could see him leaking out of your used cunt.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, spent, the after glow warming him. “You didn’t come right?” He asked you, feeling slightly tired.

“No, but it doesn’t matter,” you rasped out your throat feeling hoarse after the abuse it had taken. Frankly you wanted to sleep as well.

“Suguru, can you help her out? I want to watch,” Gojo said as he fluffed the pillow underneath him to get into a comfortable position as if he was about to open the television and watch his favorite show.

“If you hold onto her other leg,” he said as he propped your left leg around his waist and Gojo took hold of your right one. You were helpless and unable to protect yourself when you tried to squirm away from the two devious men.

Geto’s nimble fingers gathered up Satoru’s come that was trickling down between your cheeks. He pushed it back inside you, moving his fingers slowly without a hurry in the world. It reminded you of the calm before a storm.

“You’re going to give us one more right?” Geto’s voice was reassured when he added another finger into you, thumb trailing to your sensitive clit. He knew just what to do, to get you fast back to the edge that you were teetering on earlier, already feeling overstimulated from the rough treatment you had gotten. His fingers made a come-hither movement hitting precisely your g-spot.

Gojo held onto you whispering sweet nothings to your ear, his thumb caressing your thigh. He was gentle, his touch light, eyes half lidded as he enjoyed the small whimpers coming from your mouth. He spoke to you, told you how much he had wanted you from the beginning. He spoke of how he saw that you wanted him – them. Gojo let you know how well you were doing, taking what they dished out to you, how you were brave and oh so good. He attempted to bury you in his twisted love, six feet underground, anxiety and arousal covering Geto’s fingers.

It was too overwhelming. Gojo next to you, Geto between your legs, your world still spinning around you, overstimulating touch and a coil about to snap. You wailed hollowly as you came apart on Suguru’s fingers one last time.

***

It was deep in the night, around two AM to be precise. You had shot your eyes open as the wave of nausea hit you. The two men had fallen asleep cuddling each other, limbs tangled on each other. You got up as quickly as you could, your head ache punishing you from your choices, stomach churning dangerously.

With a pitter patter from your naked feet, you carried yourself to the extravagant bathroom, barely having time to put the lights on as your nausea took over.

You doubled over the toilet seat, emptying your stomach of your earlier dinner and whatever else your friends had slipped in your drink. You held onto your hair desperately trying not to make a mess. A warm hand landed on your fist bunching up the rest of your hair gently.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” Suguru said affectionately, stroking your head. “Let it all out. You’re going to feel better soon.”

The acidic taste filled your mouth once again as if it was reacting to Suguru’s company. Your body forced you to throw up stomach fluids after having nothing else in it.

The way he took care of you brought up memories of the times you had taken one too many drinks, after your partner of that time had broken up with you. You remembered the way he had held you crying, snot and tears covering his shirt as you broke down.

The sound of water pouring into a glass echoed on the walls and you heard the rattle of an ice drawer disturbing the silence.

“You should drink this,” Satoru showed up leaning on the door frame, offering the glass to you. You hesitated.

“It’s just water.” He said and took a sip as if it would prove you anything. “See?”

You grabbed it from his hand, when you decided that you didn’t care anymore, downing the entire glass in almost one swing. The cold scraped your tender throat punishingly. You should have drank more slowly.

Waking up after the night had turned to day, the windows no longer covered by the blinds. You did not remember a lot of the act, except vomiting, but that came afterwards. The city was already moving fast, a new day offering new opportunities and new exciting journeys.

You felt physically a lot better, still weird, but you no longer felt like collapsing to the ground nor did you see things twice. It was almost like you had a hangover. You looked around Gojo’s room rolling on the bed that was empty feeling relieved of having space.

There were still signs of yesterday's fighting, but random shards had been taken care of and the lightbulb changed into a working one. You had your own pajamas on you, not having the slightest idea when and how you got into your clothes. Feeling nervous you got out of the bedroom walking to the toilet to empty your bladder. As you wiped, you felt around your crotch, searching for the remainder of different body fluids. You had cleaned yourself up. Or someone had.

You washed your hands, scrubbing them together with fervor, pumping out a heap of soap on your palm.

You repeated it once.

Twice.

Until your skin was scrubbed dry.

You looked at yourself in the mirror just to see familiar features, but not anyone you could recognize. You opened the overnight bag that you had left on the side of the sink to brush your teeth and spit out the foaming toothpaste. A smell of dough frying on the pan wafted to your nose as you heard commotion from the kitchen.

You took steps to the living room to find Suguru in front of the stove flipping pancakes as Satoru was hunched over a pile of strawberries nibbling on them happily. Upbeat rock played in the background as the two men joked around and chatted. You stared at them, something seething in you.

“Good morning! We’re making brunch,” Suguru exclaimed as he flipped a pancake over “Do you want coffee or tea?”

Nails bit into your skin as you clenched your fists together hard, your knuckles turning to white as anger turned on like a switch. You wanted to rage, go absolutely berserker, throw things at them, scream how dare you over and over. Some part of you also wanted to forget the night, pretend that it’s a nightmare, sit down with them to eat some fucking brunch.

“What if I tell someone,” it wasn’t really a question that you wanted them to answer.

“And what would you achieve with that?” Gojo retorted, popping a ridiculously big strawberry in his mouth, leaving the green stem outside as he bit down, the trash floating to the table.

Suguru placed the now ready pancake onto the white plate. He grabbed the black ladle to pour more mixture on the warm pan, before he started speaking calm but collected. It was this matter of fact tone that he used as if he was disappointed in your stupidity since he was always speaking the truth. The audacity of men or something like that.

“You know first hand how some clans look down on women, not believing that women should be sorcerers in the first place. So how do you think these powerful people are going to react to you saying that two of the strongest sorcerers assaulted you?” He mused, the conversation reminding you of ethics class where people discussed your human rights as a starter dish, completely disregarding that they were talking about real lives.

You knew how those types of people would react. They would see it only as normal, a woman’s place as a breeding machine, your sorcerer blood and womb more precious than your soul. They would argue that you were lucky or maybe that you had asked for it. Besides, it wasn’t exactly atypical of people in your line of work going insane, the trail of dead comrades keeping one up for countless nights. And who better to take anger out on than the people who are perceived as less.

“Even if they did believe you, it wouldn’t change our life at all. They need our skills and well, his money,” Suguru continued as Satoru grabbed three coffee cups and placed them on the kitchen island. As if, you were staying. “It would change yours though.”

That’s when realization hit you. They were the type of evil that were completely aware of their sins. They knew exactly what was right and wrong, but they simply did not care, the world as their oyster.

“You’re insane,” a tear rolled down your eye, your body trembling like a leaf.

“Not denying that one,” Satoru quipped, not taking anything serious like usual.

“If you want to, you can leave. You are free to run your mouth however you want, block our numbers, whatever makes you sleep better. Or you can eat some pancakes as friends and have powerful allies for the rest of your life,” Geto said. “I’ll ask again, coffee or tea?”

You bit your lip as the conflicted emotions flashed through your face. You despised that you viewed them still as your friends as much as your enemies. It was weird to love someone who had hurt you in one of the most violating ways possible.

“Coffee,” you mumbled as you sat down on the bar stool hanging your hands on your sides as Suguru poured the dark liquid on the blue cup.

“We got you Plan B too,” Satoru said, throwing the cardboard box into your hands. “You should take it. I’m not ready to be a father,” he added.

You fumbled the package open, popping out the small pill on your hand. You didn’t know how they knew that you weren’t on birth control nor did you really care. You placed the tablet on your tongue taking generous gulps of water as the couple continued on cooking.

Music played as the sun shone brighter, lighting up the whole kitchen, furniture basking up in the natural glow. You ate in peace, mainly Satoru and Suguru talking together but every once in a while you added something in the conversation. You fell quickly back to the old habits, maybe at times chuckling at their stupid jokes.

You pushed away the night. You tucked it in a corner of your mind that you did not dare to look at for many weeks to come. You were just three old high school buddies catching up, nothing more. The flashbacks you saw were not yours and the long weekend continued on as a happy sleep over.

[roseyodditea]

A little Comfort - Harumasa x gn!Reader

Summary -> 600 words, established relationship. Very incredibly so self indulgent Warnings -> none

One more crumb of bad news would honestly set you over the edge today. A pebble in your shoe, getting stopped at too many crosswalks on your way home, one single open mouthed cough from a child, any little inconvenience could push you further down whatever spiral you’ve found yourself in. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and if the feeling of the tiny motor wasn’t your last straw, the message that stared at you certainly was. 

{Harumasa <3: “Sorry darling, overexerted myself in a hollow today. Gotta cancel our dinner plans tonight.”}

You walked up the stairs to leave the metro station as tears cloud your vision too much to make out the letters on the screen as you press the call icon, bringing the ringing phone up to your ear. 

“Hey-” The weak voice of your boyfriend tries to greet you but you just snapped.

“What the hell, Haru, you told me you’d be careful! You promised me we’d have tonight to relax! This was the one good thing I had to look forward to today and you took that away from me!” You try not to be angry, you knew it wasn’t his fault, but right now the world was your enemy and you were going to let the rage in your heart burn.

Harumasa was quiet on the line before he sighs. “Come over. I’ll get some food delivered.” You expected an argument, some sort of ‘don’t blame me’, some sort of deflection or minimization.

“I thought you didn’t want me to see you weak…” Your voice was soft, the rage being replaced by confusion more than anything else. 

“Normally I don’t, but I think we need each other right now. Come over. Please?” How could you say no?

**********

You knock on the door, unsure of what was about to greet you. Harumasa was normally so lively, you never thought about what he’d be like when he wasn’t feeling well. The door opens and before you even had a change to check to see if there was a dull look in his eyes, you are pulled into a hug, arms wrap around you like you were the most precious thing in the world, warm, uneven breaths on your shoulder as he slumps over to melt into you. 

“What took so long?” He murmurs with a whiny edge to his voice, pulling you inside and closing the door before hands made quick work of your jacket.

“I was most of the way to my place. I had to turn around to come here.” Your answer came out soft, your earlier energy melting to this sort of numbness that settles across your chest. 

Harumasa pulled away just enough to look at you, his hair a mess, his work shirt unbuttoned all the way, his belt unbuckled but still threaded through the loops on his pants. “You look awful.” He had the audacity to say while burying a finger under your tired eyes.

“I look awful?” you crack a smile for the first time in a few hours. “Shut up and cuddle me.” “So bossy today.” He sighs dramatically before dragging you over to the couch, flopping down and pulling you with him, a slight tint of his usual humor bleeding through his chronic pain. 

It’s hard to feel the weight of the world with his arms around you, shielding you from your surroundings and even yourself. Even if he didn’t feel the greatest, he still held you with a warm, gentle touch. To him, it didn’t matter how bad your day was leading up to this exact moment, it just mattered that you were here and enjoying this moment of stillness in your usual chaotic life. 

A/N -> This was very quickly and sloppily written but ya girl needed a quick pick-me-up and sometimes just posting something close enough to done is what I need

[insomniac4000]

Useless Hotline Crush- George Clarke

George Clarkeey adjusted his headset, a mixture of nerves and excitement bubbling under his usual confident exterior. Across from him, Max Balegde lounged in his chair, grinning mischievously as he scrolled through the show notes for this week’s episode of The Useless Hotline.

Their guest? None other than Y/N, a rising star in the YouTube and TikTok world, whose hilarious skits and uncanny impressions had skyrocketed her to internet fame. George had mentioned her more than a few times on the podcast, enough for the listeners to pick up on his admiration and maybe a little more. The speculations of a crush had been building for weeks, and now, she was about to be sitting across from him. George was feeling the full weight of their playful teasing, he knew that Max was not going to let him off easy either and it started just how George had expected.

“Alright, George,” Max said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Are you ready to meet your favorite internet sensation?”

“Oh, shut up,” George muttered, but his cheeks turned pink.

Max laughed and leaned into the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, give a warm welcome to the incredibly talented, ridiculously funny, and dare I say, George-approved Y/N!”

The studio door opened, and Y/N walked in with a big smile, waving at the cameras and settling into the guest seat. “Thanks for having me! Big fan of the show.”

“Big fan of you,” George blurted out before his brain could catch up. Max stifled a laugh as George’s face turned beet red. “I mean, uh, your videos. Big fan of your videos. Let’s get you a drink, I know I could do with one.

Y/N’s laugh was warm and genuine, easing some of George’s nerves. “Well, I’m flattered. And honestly, George, you’re pretty funny yourself. Your impression of that influencer with the fake apology? Iconic.”

“Oh, thank you,” George said, his voice slightly higher than usual. “Coming from the queen of impressions, that means a lot.”

Max raised an eyebrow at the exchange, his grin widening. “Alright, enough flirting. Let’s get into it. Y/N, how did you get started making content?”

Y/N leaned forward slightly, her enthusiasm shining through. “Honestly, it started as a bit of a joke. I was in uni, absolutely broke, and my friends and I would mess around making little videos. One day, I did an impression of our lecturer that was so spot-on, they dared me to post it. I did, and somehow it blew up. From there it just kind of snowballed really.”

“Snowballed is an understatement,” Max said. “You’ve got millions of followers now. What do you think sets your content apart?”

“I think it’s a mix of things,” Y/N replied thoughtfully. “I try to keep my humour relatable, you know? Like, we’ve all been in awkward situations or dealt with people who are… let’s say, a bit much. And I love poking fun at those universal experiences. Plus, I’m a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to my skits. I’ll redo them a hundred times if I have to, no one needs to see the hours of footage on the cutting room floor,” she laughed.

“That’s dedication,” George said, his admiration clear. “Do you ever feel pressure to keep topping yourself?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N admitted. “It’s easy to get caught up in the numbers and the pressure to go viral. But I try to remind myself why I started was to make people laugh. As long as I’m doing that, I’m happy.”

“Speaking of laughs,” Max interjected, “we’ve got to talk about your impressions. They’re uncanny. Do you have a favourite one?”

Y/N grinned. “Oh, that’s a tough one. I think my favourite changes depending on my mood. But people seem to love my impression of the overly peppy yoga instructor.”

“Can we get a little sample?” George asked, leaning forward eagerly, he knew exactly what she was talking about but it was for the sake of the audience who hadn’t seen anything, plus there was a part of him that was really excited to see her stuff in person.

“Alright, but don’t judge me,” Y/N said, slipping effortlessly into character. She clasped her hands in front of her chest and adopted an overly serene tone. “Okay, everyone, let’s just breathe out the negative vibes despite your life falling apart and breathe in the overpriced smoothie and retreat I’m about to sell you which you will definitely need after this.”

George and Max burst into laughter, George clapping his hands together. “That’s brilliant. Honestly, you’ve got the tone and everything down perfectly.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, laughing along with them. “It’s one of my go-to’s because it’s just so fun to exaggerate. Anyway how do you know how perfect it is? I didn’t have you down as a yoga expert.” George’s face then went red.

“Alright, George,” Max said, turning to him with a wicked grin. “Your turn. Do an impression.”

George groaned, though the smile on his face suggested he didn’t mind. “Fine. I’ll do my influencer apology.” He cleared his throat and put on an exaggeratedly solemn expression. “Hi, guys. I’ve made a severe and continuous lapse in my judgment. I’m here to take accountability, even though I don’t really mean it. Please don’t cancel me, because I’ve got a brand deal coming up.”

Y/N was practically doubled over with laughter. “That is terrifyingly accurate. The pause before ‘accountability’ was perfect.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” George said with a wink. “What about you, Y/N? Have you ever had to make an apology video?”

“Thankfully, no,” she said, shaking her head. “But now that you’ve done that impression, I’m kind of tempted to make a parody one. Just in case I ever need it, you know?”

“We’ll co-write it,” George offered. “Guaranteed viral hit.”

Max leaned back, watching the exchange with a knowing smirk. “You two are dangerous together. I can see it now: Y/N and George take over TikTok. The internet won’t know what hit it.”

Y/N laughed. “Hey, I’m down. As long as George can keep up with my filming schedule.”

“Oh, I’m ready,” George said, his confidence returning. “Let’s make it happen.”

The rest of the interview flew by, covering everything from Y/N’s dream collaborations to her favourite TikTok trends. By the time they wrapped up, the chemistry between her and George was undeniable, leaving Max plenty of material for teasing in future episodes.

As Y/N said her goodbyes and left the studio, Max turned to George with a sly look. “Mate, you’re not even subtle.”

“Shut up,” George mumbled, but the grin on his face was undeniable.

The comments had noticed too;

Did anyone else notice how George kept stuttering a little at the beginning like he was nervous?

George finally got his dream guest!!

So we’re all in agreement that George is smitten, right? Can we make this a thing? Because I need them to collab again ASAP!

Max teasing George is literally the only reason I’m still alive. But honestly, George’s soft spot for Y/N is kind of sweet.

Two weeks later, the studio buzzed with the usual pre-show chaos. Today’s episode was one the listeners had been eagerly anticipating: a lie detector test. George and Max had hyped it up for days, promising spicy questions and no holds barred.

As the machine was set up and the cameras rolled, Max rubbed his hands together. “Alright, George, are you ready to expose your deepest, darkest secrets?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” George said, settling into the chair and strapping on the sensors.

The first few questions were tame. Max asked if George had ever stolen anything (“Yes,” and he passed), if he’d ever lied to a guest (“No,” and he passed), and if he thought Max was the funnier host (“No,” and he failed, prompting uproarious laughter).

Then came the question that made George’s stomach flip.

“Have you ever kissed a guest on this podcast?” Max asked, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

George’s answer was immediate. “No.” The machine’s green light confirmed the truth, and George exhaled in relief.

Max wasn’t done. “Do you want to kiss any guest?”

George froze, his mind racing. He forced a laugh, trying to play it cool. “No.”

The machine’s red light flashed.

Max’s eyes widened, and he leaned back in his chair, howling with laughter. “Oh my God, George! Who is it? Who do you want to kiss?”

George shook his head, his face burning. “I’m not saying anything. Next question.”

“You’re no fun,” Max teased, but the damage was done. The comments section exploded when the episode went live.

"It’s obviously Y/N. The way he acted when she was on the podcast? Dead giveaway."

"George, we’re onto you, mate. Just admit it already!"

"Max, bring Y/N back and grill George in real time. We need answers!"

George tried to ignore the speculation, but it was impossible to miss. And as much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N’s smile, her laugh, the way she’d lit up the studio. Maybe…just maybe, the comments weren’t entirely wrong.

There had been a couple of messages swapped here and there since the podcast appearance but nothing else, the way Max, Chris and Arthur were going on about it you would have thought they were getting married, but a few messages was more than George was ever expecting.

What he wasn’t expecting however was a message from her when the episode went live.

“Who’s this guy you want to kiss? It’s Isaac isn’t it?” The message teased.

“Why, jealous?” George’s heart thumped in his chest as he sent the response, he was getting really bold now, hopefully it wouldn’t scare her off. He stared at his phone for a while and his heart started beating fast as instead of a message his phone started to ring, why was she calling him? He glanced at the screen and froze for a moment before answering. “Y/N! Hey.”

“Hey, George,” Y/N said, her voice light. “My notifications have been blowing up with people tagging me in the comments of that video and the other one still asking for that collab. I know we mentioned it briefly but I was wondering if you were up for it and maybe we could plan something?

George perked up. “I think it’s a great idea. Your skits and impressions are amazing—I’d love to work on something with you.”

“Awesome. Maybe we could brainstorm some ideas together?”

“Yeah, for sure,” George said. “How about lunch sometime this week?”

There was a brief pause before Y/N replied, her tone teasing. “Lunch sounds nice, but how about dinner instead? You know, make it more of a proper meeting.”

George’s heart skipped a beat. “Dinner works too,” he said, trying to sound casual. “When are you free?”

“Friday night?” Y/N suggested.

“Perfect,” George said, his excitement barely contained. “I’ll text you the details.”

As they ended the call, George couldn’t stop grinning. Max would never let him hear the end of this, let alone Chris or either of the Arthur’s but for once, he didn’t mind.

[tosotd-wwe]

McLaren Orange

*based off the song “tennessee orange” by megan moroney*

lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: fluff *first person pov*

summary: y/n was raised in a ferrari family, but a special driver in the papaya car gets her to wear the mclaren orange.

I felt as if I was going to throw up. My hand hovered over my mothers contact, shaking from the knots in my stomach. I knew I shouldn't be nervous, but knowing the way my family is I couldn't help it. Finally after convincing myself to tap the icon, my phone began to ring. The ring went on an awful long time, making me feel even more terrified.

"Hi Mama," I say into the phone once she picked up.

"Hey darling," Her sweet voice echos into my ear. How am I supposed to tell her this?

"I've got some news for you," My voice cracks.

"Is everything alright? You're not in trouble are you?" Her tone becomes serious, I could tell she had her eyebrow raised looking towards my father.

"I'm not in trouble, Mama" I laugh slightly, "But, don't tell dad about this, please."

There was silence on the other side of the phone. I knew she was debating listening to my request, but also on not. I heard her shuffle around a bit. Maybe she headed into a different room for privacy.

"I know you guys raised me to know right from wrong, and I know you're thinking I did something wrong, but don't worry everything is okay." I sigh, "It's just, I've never really felt this way. I don't know where to start."

"You can tell me anything, sweetheart." She reassures me, my heartbeat already calming down.

"I met this guy," I mentally smack my head in embarrassment.

"Oh, I was expecting something totally different." She laughs loudly.

"He's got these gorgeous blue eyes." I feel my cheeks grow warm just thinking about the way his eyes look into mine. "He even opens the door for me. I don't think he's made me cry once."

I had met Lando after the Emilia-Romagna Grand Prix. A couple of my friends and I decided to go out for the night, we needed some freedom. Just that morning we were all wearing our red gear, cheering for the Ferrari's as they raced. Lando just happened to be at the club we decided to go to. He was with a couple of his friends, hanging around the dj booth in the back. I must have felt risky that day because I walked up to him, congratulating him on his race. Yes, I congratulated the enemy. We ended up talking a little longer. A little longer was the rest of the night.

"He's not from where we're from." I explained, "But, he feels like home somehow."

"Where's he from?" She qustions.

"The United Kingdom, Bristol actually." I tell her.

"He sounds like a very lovely guy," She compliments him. This makes my heart warm. Hopefully the rest of the story wont make her too upset.

"I've done things I've never done before with him, Mama." She could probably hear my wide smile through the phone. "He took me to this beautiful restaurant the other night. Oh, and we went cliff diving too!"

Talking about just a few of the adventures we had been on together already made my stomach burst with butterflies. Thinking back to when our hands were holding tight to each other as we jumped off the tall cliff, waiting for our fall to be caught by the blue water. When he gave me his jacket after our dinner because it was raining.

"There is one thing though," I hesitate.

"What is it?"

"Mama, he's a driver." I try to lead up to the fact that he's a big racing star, but not for our big team.

"He's a driver? Like a racer?" Her voice fills with excitement. "Are you dating Charles Leclerc?"

"No Mama, not him." I laugh, "He's not on Ferrari."

Yet again there was a silence on the other end of the phone.

"Mama, he drives for McLaren." I whisper, a weight being lifted off my shoulders as I did so. "Lando Norris."

I heard the door open from the phone, she was walking up to my father.

"He took me to Spain with him, that's why I was gone for a little while. He gave me the hat he had sitting on his dash when we got to the airport." I try to distract her from telling any information to my father. As long as he's a good guy why should it matter? "Mama, can you forgive me? Don't tell dad, please. I like him a lot."

"Honey, I'm not mad at you. I can't change the fact you like this boy. As long as he doesn't make you forget you look better in red." She sighs, the phone now on speaker mode.

"I don't know, his smile makes me forget sometimes." I fiddle with the rings on my finger.

"Hi daddy," I say quietly, knowing hes listening into the conversation. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it."

"Your mother and I are so happy for you, Y/n. I could never be mad at you for chasing your heart."

"I still am rooting for Ferrari, don't worry." I laugh, feeling relieved by their acceptance. "But if you every see me wearing McLaren. Just know I'm wearing the orange for him."

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#36: The Ressurection (1.04)

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Wow. 😭 This love scene was stunning and profound. A true resurrection of Richonne. 🙌🏽🥹

This scene also illustrated one of my absolute favorite things communicated in TOWL: that without Michonne, Rick can’t be alive but even more so - with Michonne, Rick can’t be dead.

Try as he may to fight being alive, if Rick is with Michonne he will always come back to life through her. And I love seeing that depicted in this moment where both of them powerfully and passionately begin to restore each other...

So the buildup scene prior to this was Richonne's sexiest scene yet. And then I love how as we transition to this bedroom scene they maintain that mesmerizing sensualness of course, but they also dive into some serious emotion, pain, and powerful love between these two soulmates when the unexpected happens during this long-awaited and blazing moment of intimacy.

Now, before the episode aired there were enough people with screeners using cowgirl hat/boots gifs and emojis as hints to give an idea of what to expect for this bedroom scene...but I still wasn’t ready lol.

They transition to the bedroom and I love that Richonne’s first time or first time again gets to be in such a nice romantic setting. It’s such a sensual environment with sheer curtains and the perfect warm lighting. And considering the grandness of Rick and Michonne finally getting to have each other in this way it’s only right that the environment feels elevated as well. 👌🏽

gif cred: @nerd4music

Once the camera slides pass the sheer curtains we see Rick and Michonne beautifully getting to have this moment of intimacy after years. And I love the way the breathing is the soundtrack for this love scene. Like there’s this pretty music too but the breathing is the real music here if you ask me. 😌

gif cred: @msanonships

I love that when we enter into the scene they’re all into it and as close as humanly possible but still pulling each other even closer. And then there's a tighter shot with Rick looking down and looking like he’s taking a moment to appreciate that his wife is so good at...literally everything in life.😋

gif cred: @nat111love

It’s interesting that the first time Michonne gets to see Rick outside of the CRM soldier uniform is when he literally has to take it off and be bare with her. He put the uniform on for her all those years ago, and now he's finally removed it for her as well.

And y’all, the Richonne fandom is educational because I learned a new word through the thoughts shared on this iconic scene. I saw someone mention how Rick looks up in supplication for Michonne’s kiss, and I hadn’t heard the word 'supplication' before. But once I searched the definition, it was the perfect word to describe this moment when Rick looks up at Michonne. 👌🏽And you know Michonne’s our little genie so she told Rick 'wish granted.' 😋

gif cred: @kimwexlersponytail

Also y’all, I know we say 'they’re wild for this' a lot regarding Richonne...but this whole licking moment between them and then the way he’s literally dripping off her lip after, and the way they subtly stick out their tongues once more like they were about to do it again…never have I meant it more when I say THEY ARE WILD FOR THIS.

There aren’t enough air conditioners in the world to cool down the hotness of this whole kiss. 🔥🔥🔥

gif cred: @lousolversons

I’ve heard that they debated whether or not they’d have an intimacy coordinator and then they decided on having one. And I cannot claim to know exactly everything that job entails and I'm sure she was great, but for some reason, I have a very strong feeling in a post-2020 world it was not an intimacy coordinator who suggested all that tongue stuff lol. 🤭

No, my bet would be that this particular moment stemmed from two gifted actors who know their characters very well, including knowing their character's shared level of freak, and as true professionals devoted to the role they let the spirit of the characters coordinate this kiss.👌🏽 I mean, we trust the captains for a reason.🫡 😋 They know how to play every shade of Richonne to perfection.

gif cred: @lousolversons

I'm glad that this moment right here didn’t end up on the cutting room floor. Since Danai was the showrunner of this stellar episode I know she mentioned she also got to have some involvement in the editing process. And every time I see this kiss I just imagine her in the editing room saying 'let's keep this part in the scene' and then looking right at us Richonne fans like...

They were filming this scene like they had something to prove about Richonne’s physical chemistry and baby, while it didn’t need to be proved they still proved it all the way. 💯❤️‍🔥

In TWD, they only ever showed Richonne's lead-up to sex or the after moments, but now that they were going to show the 'during' they said let the world know Rick and Michonne really get down. #LethalAmountsofChemistry

And what I especially love is that you can just sense their bodies remembering each other after years apart. After shutting this part of themselves off when they lost each other and only turning this part of themselves on for each other, it's made so clear that their mind, body, and soul connection is still as strong as ever.

It really is special how much Richonne's physical intimacy is a powerful manifestation of how intimately they love each other in every other way too.

gif cred: @nat111love

So they keep kissing and the camera switches angles as things appear like they are ramping up which you can hear in Rick’s breathing and moaning. But then as he’s touching her and about to get even more immersed in the moment the scene takes a compelling and heartrending turn...

Rick has a panic attack. 🥺

There is so much to dissect about this impactful panic attack moment. It’s just so well executed, painful, powerful, and vulnerable. 👏🏽

gif cred: @nat111love

First; I was very curious to examine why they have this panic attack occur right when it does. Because Rick and Michonne were pretty into it leading up to this so why this exact moment?

My extra self's personal interpretation is that as they were getting more into it, it looked like Rick was about to let loose a lot more and even be more of the assertive person he used to be like getting on top of her, and I feel like that assertiveness rushing back to him like that was jarring a bit.

gif cred: @nat111love

Plus, he can feel her, and they're heating up and I feel like he’s become so used to moments this good quickly coming to an end in his dreams so it’s like he’s bracing for that. Bracing for the part where this dreamlike state burns away and the woman of his dreams disappears, leaving him alone and in pain. 😢

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Also with the whole poison vs. cure thing, I think it’s like Rick's mind starts freaking out because while here he and Michonne are clearly providing each other pleasure, he’s anxious that ultimately being together will cause him to be a poison to her.

He still is convinced Michonne will be in danger if he’s with her and having this passionate moment together will only make it harder to part when that’s how he thinks it has to be. So this moment of intimacy is both this euphoric thing and this panic-inducing thing for him. 

At the start of the panic attack, Rick pulls away and starts struggling to catch his breath and I’ve always loved the detail of how when he first pulls away he still puts his hand up to reach to her, almost like he's both needing her and wanting to be reassuring to her even despite the fact that he’s in full panic mode. 🥲

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Rick has a quick glance at Michonne and then hangs his head down, out of sorts. And even just seeing the scars on him in this moment makes me so sad. 🥺 He’s been through a lot and for years he’s endured it all alone. This bedroom moment is one of the first times in a long time that he even gets to go through this internal anguish with a partner by his side.

gif cred: @nat111love

And again, the fact that this panicked breathing is similar to the anxious breathing he had when Michonne walked out the door earlier in the episode, goes to show he’s scared to be without her and to be with her. 

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Rick is struggling to look at her but Michonne gently takes his face in her hands and he looks at her as she assesses the situation, quickly knowing he’s having a panic attack. It makes me weepy how ready Michonne is to ever-so-gently help him through this. 😭

Also, y’all I’m in the camp of people who hear Michonne whisper “Look at me, baby.” If she didn’t say it…yes she did lol. 😋 And I love it. 😍

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Rick continues his labored breathing and Michonne does just the most beautiful thing ever when she takes his one hand and places it over her heart.

I love this more than words can explain - and yet, I’m still going to try to explain why I love it. 🥹😭🥹

Like the fact that her heartbeat is what can calm him in this moment. I'll never be over it. 😭  Something so incredibly beautiful about Michonne’s heartbeat bringing Rick back to life is that he’s feeling the heart that beats for him and has for years. She in every sense gave him her heart all those years ago, so it’s not just her heart he’s feeling it’s his own because they truly are one.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Richonne’s hands have always been given great moments throughout their epic love story, and this moment has to be up there as one of the best Richonne hands moments. 👏🏽

I love the way she’s able to get him to open his hand and relax as she keeps her hand comfortingly over his.

gif cred: @nat111love

It reminds me of their final handhold in s9 when Rick had his hand in a fist from frustration and Michonne was able to open his hand and have him hold onto her instead. That was their last real moment side by side in TWD and now here they are doing that again x10 in TOWL. Just beautiful. 🥹

And I love how you can hear how placing his hand on her heart is effective as Rick’s breathing does steady from feeling her heart. A heart that has beat for him all these years. 🥲 Never have the two felt more like one than in this moment. And I will forever adore and appreciate that this is how Danai wrote for Michonne to be able to calm Rick amid his trauma. He needs her heart. 😭 Always has.

They’re the ones who live and this is Rick becoming so aware of Michonne being alive and with him and it starts to ignite his own return to humanity.

The way Michonne looks at him with her eyes dilated and filled with love and tears as she so clearly resonates with the pain Rick is in that he has yet to express. 😭 You can tell she so badly wants him to trust that it’s okay to be present in everything he’s feeling with her and not go through this pain alone anymore.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

The way Michonne fully wraps Rick in her love during this panic attack is just the most moving thing as she silently assures him he’s in the safest most loving arms in the world. Like I knew those actors were wildly talented but what they both captured in this scene took it to an all new level.

And the way Rick has tears under his eyes. I can’t. 😭 The tear alone says so much. Like he's overcome with so many layered emotions, especially as it hits him that a moment this beautiful with Michonne is real - the most real moment of connection he's felt in years - and it's not going to be taken away from him this time.

So Rick looks up at Michonne for a moment and it genuinely feels like he’s looking up at the sun. And then he looks down at their hands on her heart. I love seeing Michonne softly slide her other hand down his face with her finger right where his tear has fallen.

gif cred: @clonecaptains

And then I am just blown away at Andy’s performance when you see something click for Rick as he truly just resurrects through Michonne’s love. 🥹

After looking at their hands and letting this moment of connection resonate, Rick looks back into Michonne’s eyes and I always liken it to when a PC computer turns on and makes that one sound. I feel like you can visibly see the moment Rick’s humanity turns back on in full force as he looks at her.

Rick really resurrected back to life by becoming one with Michonne, his undeniable other half. 🥹 Richonne is the unequivocal greatest depiction of soulmates. 💯

gif cred: @nat111love

So Rick, and Michonnne's Rick this time, looks in Michonne's eyes like he’s genuinely become human again after years and then he tilts his head and it feels like he’s finally seeing Michonne in her entirety now. Like he’s finally seeing her without the lens of fear or what could happen next.

After having been so focused on the fear of losing her, it feels like in this moment he's finally just being present in the fact that he found her.

gif cred: @nat111love

And in finding Michonne, his soulmate, Rick begins to find himself again too.

Michonne's effective approach of calming Rick with her touch and her heart helps Rick embrace that this isn’t a dream and she’s not going to burn away. Michonne may be burning up because of him but she’s not going to vanish.

By feeling her heartbeat it was like Rick finally let it sink in that she’s still here and she’s with him completely. She’s real. They’re real. They’re back together truly. It was a profound moment of the two becoming one being again.

And then the way they both have these dilated pupils and get this new wave of energy from that moment and their breathing starts syncing up and picking up as they return to kissing. Their beauty and the beauty of this moment are ravishing. I love that neither wanted to stop making love and once they have this moment they’re even more present in the lovemaking than before. 

gif cred: @riickgrimes

It really feels like there’s this transfer of energy between Rick and Michonne in this moment as she feels his visceral but suppressed pain and he feels her visceral deep love and we see love win out over the pain as Michonne helps Rick literally turn his humanity back on at full strength.

And then as Rick’s heart is literally jump-started again by feeling the love of his life’s heartbeat, he sends all that love right back to her because it’s so clear in this scene that everything happening to him is happening to her too. Like as he comes back to life it ignites her in a new way as well and just affirms so strongly to both of them that they’re back to being one the way they’re always meant to be.

So they continue kissing and Michonne has her hand tightly in his hair because of course. It's clear from Michonne’s noises that Rick has seemed to amp things up, we’ll say lol. Plus, Michonne hasn't been able to grab his curls like that in an even longer minute since Rick's hair was short the last time they were together, so you know she's happy to have that back as well. 😋

I love how Rick was finally realizing he’s not just someone who can harm her but who can heal her too and she’s not only someone to protect but to love limitlessly. We see Rick finally go from mission-minded to Michonne-minded and let the Alive Rick take the wheel from Dead Rick. 🙌🏽

gif cred: @lousolversons

In the last 24 hours especially, both Rick and Michonne have been through every emotion and at its most intense - intense fear, intense sadness, intense frustration, desperation, anger, longing, hopelessness, hurt, concern, etc, and now intense passion and pleasure. All of that could easily have caused a system overload or system shutdown for them. But I love how instead of just shutting down, they navigate this together and then get even more locked in with each other.

And then you really know the real Rick is back when he flips Michonne over and gets on top of her. It’s his favorite place to be, that's just canon. 😌 And you know Michonne loves seeing Rick take charge like this. Her man is always assertive with his affection and Michonne always seems here for it.

gif cred: @nat111love

It is such a sweet shot seeing Michonne looking up at Rick as she tenderly holds his neck. She loves him so much. It’s written all over her face. 🥹

gif cred: @nat111love

And then y’all, this show said you don’t have to wait until the Olympics to see some swimming on National Television. 🤭🏊‍♂️

Cuz they proceed to give us some um very up close and personal insight into Rick and that signature vein as the camera is all up in his face while he finally lets himself feel the full extent of pleasure for the first time in years.

For a while, whenever I saw this moment I was like can this camera back up a bit cuz now I feel like I'm intruding lol.

But the moment is very sweet in the regard that Rick is no longer fighting the fact that he can feel pleasure and be present in this moment with his wife. For so long he seemed to be punishing himself and killing himself and so it’s a big deal to see him finally stop that and enjoy this.

I think part of him thought he could engage in this intimacy with Michonne and only make it about pleasing her while remaining dead inside but again he can't be dead with her - and so in this moment he no longer tries to be, and that’s really heartwarming. 🥲

Seeing him smile knowing that this is the only woman in the world he wanted this experience with - it really is like a homecoming in a sense. Michonne’s hand on him the whole time is sweet too. And I just love that they waited for each other to open this side of themselves up to again. And to think, it wasn't even technically 'waiting' since they genuinely didn't know if they'd ever be together again. But they still only reserved this level of intimacy for each other. Rick and Michonne are it for each other, truly.

Then the scene ends with a really lovely sensual shot of Richonne through the sheer curtains as they kiss and just savor each other like they do best. ❤️

gif cred: @nat111love

And now I know I might be diving right into delusional territory with this next thing I say but I know some of you saw this too --- I am convinced that Michonne tells Rick 'I love you' in this zoomed-out shot. ‼️

For a while, I thought one of the only things we surprisingly didn’t get in TOWL was Michonne directly telling Rick 'I love you.' That was an interesting omission for an epic love story, especially cuz I def feel Michonne would say those three words outright at some point, after not being able to tell Rick those words for nearly eight years. Don’t get me wrong, she’s said I love you very clearly and meaningfully in many other ways, but still she’d say the direct words too. So it was odd when it seemed like that didn’t happen.

But now...y’all, my extra self is choosing to declare that it did happen. Because I promise she’s saying it to him in this bed. I'm telling you, she is. For real, she is! 😋 Look🔎 ⬇

gif cred: @nat111love

And again, if she isn’t…yes she is. 😇 Michonne-Says-ILY-In-This-Scene Truthers, rise. ✊🏽😋 And if by chance my eyes deceive me then let them lie just this once lol.

If it is the case that Michonne told Rick 'I love you' in this moment, it's extremely sweet. Especially because I had a feeling she’d say it once Rick was finally out of that CRM gear. Once she knew he was slowly but surely becoming him again. So while it's a non-audible, blink-and-you-miss-it moment I think we did get at least one Michonne 'ily' in TOWL. 😌

I love the way the scene ends with the piano and their silhouettes. Michonne is the sun to Rick so I love the way she aligns with the sun-like lamp and the way the last thing you see from the scene is her putting her hand in his curls again as they just continue to make love. And let me tell you, a scene like this is why it’s called 'making love' because truly this passionate moment was such a perfect manifestation of their deep, one-of-a-kind, soulmate love.

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

This is Richonne’s first full-length sex scene and it was done so masterfully, memorably, and meaningfully. It was the perfect way to pull off such a significant anticipated moment between them and make it tastefully titillating. It genuinely feels like they turned that chemistry they have up to its highest volume and something rare and otherworldly was captured. 👌🏽

The way it wasn’t just physical but truly pivotal for their relationship and the story. The way it was as hot as it was heartfelt. The way they both came alive and restored broken parts of each other through a shared heartbeat. The way they profoundly depicted Richonne becoming one again. The way it was more than a love scene it was a resurrection.

Rick felt human after years of feeling dead. Michonne felt truly held and loved after years of not feeling safe. Tens across the board and truly an impeccable and impactful scene from beginning to end. 😌👌🏽

[wwestrang-fan]

Behind the scenes

Roman Reigns x oc reader

warning : a bit of age gap, some hints angst, reader feeling insecure, (sorry it’s a little angst)

Summary: After his divorce, Roman is determined to focus solely on being himself, dedicating his time to his kids and career. However, everything changes when he unexpectedly bumps into someone special.

Roman walked through the bustling halls of WWE headquarters, a spring in his step as he made his way to Hunter's office. The walls were adorned with iconic photos of wrestling legends, and the energy was electric. Just as he rounded a corner, he collided with someone.

“Whoa, sorry about that!” he exclaimed as he looked, surprised to see a woman standing at his eye level. She had an unmistakable presence, her skin glowing under the bright lights, and her long, ponytail swayed with every movement.

“It’s alright!” she replied, her voice warm but hurried. With a quick, apologetic smile, she sidestepped past him and continued on her way fixing her glasses.

Roman watched her walk away until she disappeared around the corner, a curious smile lingering on his lips. After a moment, he turned and headed into Hunter's office, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the hallway.

“Hey, who was that?” he asked as he settled into a chair.

"Who Hunter glanced up from his paperwork

"That woman that looks like at girl in pearl earring art I saw her on the way here Roman said.

“Oh, that’s the new fashion designer we hired. She’s got some great ideas coming up.”

Roman raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Fashion designer, huh?

As Roman stepped out of Hunter's office, he spotted his cousins Jey and Jimmy chatting near the bustling entrance of the WWE headquarters. They were both all smiles, their energy infectious.

“Hey, look who decided to grace us with his presence!” Jimmy called out, his playful tone echoing through the hallway.

“Yeah, just wrapped up a meeting. What’s good with you guys?” Roman replied, moving closer.

“Just planning our next moves,” Jey said, crossing his arms. “You know how it is.”

“Speaking of moves,” Roman said, glancing at Jimmy, “where’s your wife? I haven’t seen her around today.”

“Oh, she’s with the new fashion designer,” Jimmy answered. “Getting some ideas for a new look or something.”

As they talked, Roman turned slightly to look down the corridor, just as the fashion designer emerged from a nearby office. They crossed paths once again, and Roman’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Whoa, hey!” he exclaimed, barely managing to sidestep to avoid bumping into her again.

“Sorry! You again!” she said with a laugh, her long curly ponytail bouncing as she stepped back.

Naomi approached the group, her presence radiating warmth. She raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “So, you two have already met, huh?”

Roman glanced at the designer, then back at Naomi. “Yeah, just a little bump-in.”

“And a memorable one at that!” the designer chimed in, her smile brightening the moment.

Jey raised an eyebrow at Roman. “Don’t you have to get measured again for that outfit?”

Roman nodded, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Yeah, I do. I guess I should get that done.”

“Oh, you do! I can do that for you right now,” the fashion designer chimed in, her enthusiasm apparent. “No need to wait!”

“Really? That would be awesome!” Roman replied, his excitement returning as he glanced back and forth between the designer and his cousins.

“See? Offered by the expert right here,” Jey said, turning to Roman with a grin.

“Oh, I aim to please!” he responded.

With that, the designer led Roman to a nearby fitting room, Jey, and Jimmy shared knowing looks and laughed.

In the bright, airy room lined with fabric swatches and mood boards, Roman stood before a large mirror with a tape measure draped around his shoulders. The fashion designer, involved in their fitting, adjusted the measure with a practiced eye.

“Alright, Mr. Reigns, let’s see what we’re working with,” she said, her voice smooth and confident, a hint of excitement in her tone.

“Just Roman is fine,” he responded, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s easier.”

“Okay, just Roman it is,” she replied with a smile, her albino skin glowing under the studio lights.

“So, what’s your name?” Roman asked.

“I’m Pudding. Nice to meet you!” she chirped.

“Pudding? That’s an interesting name,” Roman said, looking at her.

With a playful nod, Pudding explained, “My mom’s a baker, and she has a real passion for sweets. Pudding just felt fitting!”

“Sounds sweet!” Roman laughed, appreciating her backstory.

After a moment of silence, he added with a playful grin, “Has anyone ever told you that you kinda look like at girl in pearl earring art?”

Pudding burst into laughter, her cheeks turning a shade of pink. “Yeah, I’ve heard that comparison a few times!”

“I mean look at you,” he said with a smirk, enjoying the light-hearted banter.

“Thanks i’ll take that as a compliment,” she replied, her cheeks flushed with delight as she continued her measurements, feeling more at ease in his presence.

The playful atmosphere continued as the two chatted while Pudding worked, building an instant connection amid the bustle of the wrestling world.

As Pudding finished adjusting the final measurement, she stepped back with satisfaction. “Alright, all done.”

Roman straightened up, loosening the tension from his shoulders. “Thanks! So, when can I expect the clothes to be finished?”

Pudding glanced at her notes, jotting down a few final details. “I’m aiming for about a weeks. I want to make sure everything fits perfectly and looks amazing.”

“That’s not too long” Roman replied, a hint of excitement evident in his tone. “Will I get a chance to see any sketches before then?”

“Sure I’ll send you some drafts once I get the initial designs laid out. It’s important to me that you’re involved in the process,” she said.

Roman leaned against the table, a bit more serious. “That nice.

“Don’t forget to check your messages! Hunter will send updates as I go along,” Pudding called after him.

“I won’t!” Roman replied, stepping out of the room and into the hallway, his mind racing with thoughts of the upcoming designs.

As he walked, is mind was thinking about pudding as he made his way to the exit.

[d-targaryenshoe]

Guitar Strings of Joy - Harry Styles

Word Count: 1702

Summary: Big moments, yet small ones are rather special to share with the people who support you through it all aren't they?

You stood backstage, your fingers running across the familiar strings of your guitar.

The hum of the crowd vibrated through the floor beneath your feet, and you could hear the murmur of excitement building as the lights dimmed in the arena.

It was one of those nights—one of those moments—that made your heart race, even after years of touring with Harry.

As one of his guitarists, you had played in some of the biggest venues worldwide, but tonight was different.

Tonight, you weren't just his guitarist, you were also his girlfriend and the soon-to-be mother of your first child.

A flutter of nervous excitement mingled with your anticipation.

In just a few minutes, your secret would no longer be yours.

Harry had insisted on making this night special, and you had agreed. You'd been planning it for weeks, keeping your little secret close.

The gender reveal of your baby would happen right here, on stage, in front of thousands of fans.

And it would be you who would announce it with the iconic guitar solo of Harry's song, 'Adore You'.

The thought made your stomach flip with both nerves and excitement.

Harry's voice came through the speakers as he greeted the crowd, his tone warm and familiar, like a friend welcoming everyone into his home.

He had that effect on people, a natural ease that made even the largest of crowds feel intimate.

"Hey, everybody! How are we feeling tonight?" Harry's voice boomed through the arena, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

You could almost see him in your mind, smiling that boyish grin that had captured hearts all over the world.

You listened as Harry went through the opening set, your fingers moving instinctively over your guitar strings, getting in sync with the rhythm of the band.

You had played these songs a hundred times, but tonight there was an added weight to every note.

Then, it was time.

The moment you had both been waiting for.

Harry paused after finishing the previous song, letting the last note fade into the electric buzz of the crowd.

He looked over at you, his eyes sparkling with something that made your heart skip.

There was a pause, the kind that stretched just long enough to build anticipation.

“So, before we go on,” Harry began, his voice suddenly quieter, more intimate, “I want to share something special with you all. Tonight isn’t just another concert for us. It’s also a really special night for me and someone you all know pretty well.”

The crowd murmured in curiosity, a wave of whispers rippling through the sea of people.

You felt your pulse quicken. You knew this was it.

Harry's eyes met yours again, and for a second, it was just the two of you.

You smiled, trying to steady your breathing.

“For those of you who don’t know, the amazing guitarist who’s been up here with me every night is also the love of my life, y/n.” Harry's words sent a surge of applause and cheers through the crowd.

You felt your cheeks flush, both from the warmth of the spotlight and the love that emanated from the audience.

“And we’ve got a little surprise for you all tonight,” Harry continued, his voice tinged with excitement. “You see, y/n and I are expecting a baby!”

The cheers grew louder, and you felt a wave of emotion wash over you.

The audience’s energy was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile even wider.

Harry waited for the noise to die down before speaking again. “Now, we thought long and hard about how we wanted to reveal the gender of our baby, and we decided there was no better place to do it than right here, with all of you."

"So, during the next song, when y/n plays the guitar solo, you’re going to see some fireworks. And when you do, the color of those fireworks will tell you if we’re having a boy or a girl.”

The crowd erupted again, this time with a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

This was it.

You nodded at Harry, who gave you a reassuring smile, and then he turned back to the crowd.

“This is ‘Adore You,’” Harry announced, and the familiar notes began to fill the arena.

Your fingers moved over the strings, finding the melody with ease.

The song had always been special to you and Harry.

It was one of the first songs you had worked on together, back when your relationship was still new, still fragile.

Now, it felt like a full-circle moment, standing here with him, about to share the biggest news of your lives with thousands of people.

As the song built towards the solo, your nerves returned, but so did a deep sense of calm.

This was your moment.

You closed your eyes for a brief second, grounding yourself, and then you stepped forward, into the spotlight.

The world seemed to hold its breath as you played the opening notes of the solo.

The sound of your guitar echoed through the arena, each note carrying with it the weight of the moment.

The crowd fell silent, waiting, watching.

And then, as the solo reached its peak, the arena exploded in a dazzling display of color.

Fireworks shot into the sky, bursting into a shower of brilliant blue.

The crowd gasped in unison, and then the cheers began, louder than ever before.

You felt a wave of emotion crash over you, tears springing to your eyes as you played the final notes of the solo.

A boy.

You were having a boy.

Harry was beside you in an instant, his arms wrapping around you as the crowd continued to cheer.

You could feel him shaking, overwhelmed with emotion, just as you were.

You held onto each other, sharing the moment, as the blue fireworks continued to light up the sky above you.

Harry took the microphone again, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” he said, his words directed both to the audience and to you. “We can’t wait to meet our little fella, and we’re so grateful to have you all here with us tonight to share this moment.”

The crowd roared in response, and you felt another wave of tears threaten to spill over.

You glanced at Harry, who was looking at you with a mixture of love and awe.

It was a look you would never tire of.

As the final notes of "Adore You" faded into the night, Harry turned back to the audience.

“I think we’re going to need to play one more song after that,” he said with a laugh, and the crowd cheered in agreement.

But before you started the next song, Harry leaned in close to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“I love you,” he said, his eyes shining.

You smiled, your heart full. “I love you too,” you replied, and in that moment, everything else faded away.

It was just you, standing on stage, under a sky filled with blue fireworks, ready to welcome the next chapter of your lives together.

Harry turned back to the microphone, and the band launched into the next song, the energy in the arena electric.

You picked up the melody, your fingers moving effortlessly over the strings, but your mind was still on what had just happened.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Harry's face when the fireworks had exploded in blue.

The pure, unfiltered joy, mixed with a touch of disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was all real.

As you played through the set, you found yourself sneaking glances at Harry, catching his eye whenever you could.

Each time, he would smile at you, that same look of love and awe in his eyes.

It was a look that told you everything you needed to know about your future.

You were going to be just fine.

More than fine—you were going to be a family.

The rest of the concert flew by in a blur of music and lights.

The crowd was more alive than ever, feeding off the energy of the night.

When the final notes of the last song echoed through the arena, the applause was deafening.

Harry and you stood side by side, looking out at the sea of faces, each one filled with love and joy.

It was a moment neither of you would ever forget.

As the band left the stage, Harry grabbed your hand, pulling you close.

“We did it,” he whispered in your ear, his voice filled with pride.

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you. “We did,” you agreed. “And now, we get to do the next part.”

Harry grinned, his hand resting on your belly. “I can’t wait.”

Backstage, the rest of the band and crew congratulated you, the air filled with hugs and laughter.

Everyone was buzzing with excitement, still riding the high of the reveal.

You couldn’t stop smiling, your heart full to bursting.

Later that night, after the arena had emptied and the crew had packed up, Harry and you found yourselves alone in your dressing room.

The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind a warm, contented glow.

Harry sat down on the couch, pulling you down beside him.

“I still can’t believe it,” Harry said, his voice soft as he rested his hand on your belly. “A boy.”

You leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I know,” you said, your voice equally soft. “It feels like a dream.”

Harry kissed the top of your head, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your stomach. “It’s a dream I never want to wake up from,” he whispered.

You sat like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, the excitement of the night giving way to a peaceful calm.

The future stretched out before you, bright and full of possibilities.

And as you sat there, in the quiet of the night, you knew that no matter what came next, you would face it together, as a family.

And that was all you needed.

[awooghan]

[11:41 pm] ✧.* l.mh

➳ PAIRING: lee know x gn!reader

➳ GENRE: fluff, slice of life, silent/mutual pining, friends to (implied) lovers

➳ WARNINGS: none, just tooth-rotting fluff and simp!lino :]

➳ WORD COUNT: 1k exactly which is a bit long for a timestamp but are we surprised

➳ SUMMARY: you and minho are out with your friends one night. minho notices you won't leave his side.

➳ NOTES: wow i actually completed a fic and it wasn't for christmas LOL hope you enjoy <3 also i know the banner is lee know in a puffy coat but this is supposed to be a summer night timestamp and this was the closest photo i could find 😭 (and as always ty @ujimoo for helping me make a banner)

➳ SONG REC: headliner (seventeen)

network tags: @kflixnet @straykidsland-main @kwritersworld @k-labels

“Ah, Y/N…” Minho says, lightly nudging you. “When are you gonna get off me?”

His voice, flat but gentle, cuts through the air around you, making the crickets chirping nearby sound like a mere pin drop. He doesn’t mean to sound rude, though his tone alone would have raised the eyebrows of strangers passing by. Luckily, there aren’t many people around to spare him weird glances this late at night.

It’s a genuine question, though. Instead of stomping around on the playground down the slope with your friends, you have effectively trapped Minho next to you atop a nearby hill. Your legs are outstretched before you, your shoes innocently tapping against his as you rock your feet side to side. Your arm sits comfortably next to his, and your head rests on his shoulder. He’s all but stuck now, like sap on a maple tree in January, and if you don’t move soon, he’ll be doomed to spend the rest of the night here in the grass.

He feels you shrug next to him.

“Hmm?” Minho hums. His eyes widen just slightly as you scoot closer. Your hand brushes against his, and your fingers lazily drum a pattern into the warm earth below you. He tries to ignore this and pokes you repeatedly in the arm.

“Come onnnn…” he says. “When are you gonna get up?”

Your quiet “I dunno” in response fills his ears.

“What do you meeeaaann, ‘I dunno’?” He makes a show of rolling his eyes, then clicks his tongue. “Why don’t you wanna get up, hmm?”

A scream echoes through the park and makes Minho look up for a moment. Changbin’s short figure flies through the air, his arms flailing. The swing behind him rocks erratically as he falls onto the mulch with a thud. Wooyoung points and cackles loudly from the swing next to him, but quickly lets out a shriek of his own and grips onto the metal chains. Further right, Jungwoo and Chaeryeong’s silhouettes chase each other around on the main playground equipment. Lampposts at the edge of the playground cast a dim yellow glow across the space, like the ones in retro film recordings. Minho can imagine the little “PLAY” icon floating at the top left of the scene, blinking periodically several feet above the dark blue awning.

He feels a light tap against his shoe again.

“Owww!” Minho feigns a cry. He picks up his feet and swipes them away from you in one swift move, the corners of his lips pulling down in an exaggerated pout. “Y/N, that hurt~ how dare you…” 

Looking back at you, you’re mindlessly clicking your feet against each other, and you’re still all cuddled up on his shoulder. His heart thumps a little louder in his chest when you shove your head closer to him.

“Yah, Y/N…”

“Hmm...” Your soft hum comes out more as a statement than a reply.

You flutter your eyes closed, your lashes gently batting against your skin. He heaves out a sigh, and the warm breeze tickles his cheeks with a light blush. It seems to have more mercy on you, though, as it delicately brushes your stray hairs away from your forehead, framing your face perfectly. Almost too perfectly. The crickets blend into the quiet air as he takes in the sight.

“Hey…” Minho tries one more time. He tilts his head slightly as he gazes at you. “Why don’t you get up? Our friends are waiting.”

The breeze picks up for just a moment, making you scrunch up your nose. Minho gestures down the hill. It’s getting more difficult to look away from you. “See?” he continues. “Playground's right over there. ‘S loads more fun than I am.”

Another shriek rings out from the playground area. Chaeryeong lies in an awkward position at the bottom of the slide. The wind picks up again at the same time, whistling against Minho’s ears right as Chaeryeong yells something at Jungwoo. All he can make out is another scream as Jungwoo tumbles down the slide and knocks Chaeryeong onto the gravel.

But a light tap sings louder to Minho than all of it.

Looking back at you, his eyes trace down, stopping where your fingers meet his arm. As light as a hummingbird’s wing beat, your fingers tap across his forearm and leave a path of spreading warmth in their wake. They seem to float in the air as they skip further down. Your touch, so faint and gentle, nearly lulls him to sleep. He lets his eyes fall shut.

It’s like Minho is at the beach for a moment, and your fingers brushing against his skin are the ocean waves calmly swaying over his feet. Then, he feels a sudden blast as a tidal wave crashes over him, its currents pulling him under and leaving him unable to breathe. His eyes snap open and right toward the spot where your hand has come to a gentle rest over the top of his own.

Minho’s eyes meet your soft ones. Your head is still comfortably nestled on his shoulder, and your cheeks seem to glow in the dark when you smile at him. For a moment, perhaps a moment too long, time comes to a still as he takes you in, watching you slowly melt into his side. You look so at peace, and he dare not disturb you, despite his urge to spring up and run down the hill and scream at Changbin. Thankfully, he’s too engrossed in the feeling of your hand on top of his to even try. He thanks his lucky stars once more that you’re also looking down at your hands, so you can’t notice the blood rushing to the tips of his ears.

Slowly, he spreads his fingers and gently threads them with yours. He glances at you, then looks down at his lap, a shy smile finally forming on his lips.

“Ah…” he says softly. “ Our friends can wait a little.”

[ravenstargames]

✦ Lost in Limbo Devlog #14 | 12.02.24

And November is over! This month has been filled with paperwork, organizing receipts, and so on, which isn't very fun, but it's part of the job!

We are making great progress with everything overall; merch has been ordered and we have received proof and approved it; our voice actors are already delivering the voiced names y'all paid for during our Kickstarter campaign; and more! Let's see it in detail, shall we? :^)

Our dear Raquel has been working hard (I think I say this every devlog, but damn) on reworking the sprites for the extended demo now that the Special postcards for the Kickstarter are done! For this next batch, she'll be working on Ara and Amon, so here's a WIP of how Ara is looking so far! 💜

I think you can see how her design is already more detailed and cohesive in some areas. We'll most likely ask for feedback when Amon is ready too, to test the waters with both characters like we did with Gael and Xal :^)

The street is coming to life! This background is almost ready thanks to Astro. We'll have four new locations in the Extended Demo to help with the pacing and the introduction of our world and story to (hopefully) make it perfect. Or something close to it!

In the writing department, I've so far added 7000 words to the prologue. We have one flavor choice, two personality choices (and several personality reactions), and three "relationship choices". These basically shape your relationship with Evie in this case. For example, you'll be able to choose if you are intimate friends, are warm to each other, or if you prefer something less physical / touchy. And Evie will remember that!

And this is just so far. While River has a kind of "set" personality, I want people to be able to shape some aspects of their life.

In the writing department I should also include the documents I've provided to our VAs, and to our composer, Tomás. More on that below!

We have a proper help screen! Wohoo! 💜

Now you can enjoy Ren'py's default help screen but looking a bit nicer. This is for those who are not familiar with Ren'py's usual keybindings and stuff :^)

Nothing else on the programming side this month. I've focused on writing the script and that's going to be my main job until I can actually start programming something!

As I said before, our beloved voice actors are already working on the voiced names! In fact, Xal's VA (Francfil Pontañeles) and Pride's (Pat Langner) already recorded them! A little surprise is that we have been able to add our default MC's name, River, as a voiced name. For those of you who want to play with that name, you'll also enjoy some voiced lines!

What else—ah! We are already working with Tomás for our OST, and we have settled in 19 tracks total. Those are even more tracks than we expected! This is thanks to you all, and especially thanks to those of you who ordered more merch via Backerkit. You made those four extra tracks possible!

Our merch has been checked and so far only the pins are missing a preview and therefore our approval. We had to edit some files (beginner's mistake!) but being the first time we do this, I'd say things have been rather smoothly! We'd like to be able to start shipping this month, but it may not be possible. Which is a bummer! But well, we settled in December / January, so January it is, if nothing happens!

(Don't mind the colors being too flashy here—they will look more cohesive in game!)

OH, and the last extra bit! I've been working on the personality choices, as you all know, and Kayden has been helping me make the icons that will appear next to those choices for those who are colorblind. An extra thing to make them pop and differentiate them better! I think they are pretty self-explanatory, and if not, well—that means we have to give those icons a twist!

November has been a chaotic month for me due to the aftermath of the floods and my vacation week. The rest of the team has also had their good amount of irl stuff happening around them, but we've made it! The new year is approaching faster than I thought, as per usual, and I hope we can finish 2024 on a good note!

And that's all! As always, please take care, have fun, and enjoy the rest of the week!

[mylovesstuffs]

100 Reasons Why I Love Seungcheol ! (a.k.a. S.Coups, Choi Leader, Carat Nation’s Dad)

1. The way he manages 12 chaotic kids (men) like a pro. Where’s his Parent of the Year award?

2. When he yells at them but immediately softens like a marshmallow.

3. His laugh can cure seasonal depression.

4. A visual.

5. His habit of acting like the maknae when he’s the eldest.

6. Petty Seungcheol is peak comedy.

7. When he tries to act cool, but the members clown him anyway.

8. His relationship with aegyo.

9. The way he thinks he’s subtle when being dramatic.

10. His iconic “Say the name!”

11. When he stands in the center like he owns the stage. (Because he does.)

12. His “I’m SEVENTEEN’s leader” energy.

13. That time he pulled off blone hair like a literal Greek god.

14. The way he stares into the camera during performances.

15. How he can make a single word sound like a life-changing declaration.

16. The emotional damage from his tongue plays.

17. His airport looks could rival a runway.

18. His tiny, proud smiles when the members achieve something. You can see the love in his eyes.

19. The fact that he knows exactly how to bias-wreck us.

20. How he’s effortlessly charismatic without even trying.

21. The way he protects the members like they’re his own brothers.

22. When he cried during their Daesang speech—who didn’t cry with him?

23. That time he comforted Jeonghan when he was sick, and our hearts collectively melted.

24. How he takes care of Carats.

25. The soft way he says, “Thank you, Carats.” (Excuse me while I sob.)

26. When he got emotional during their first win.

27. His little “fighting!” moments to cheer everyone up.

28. The way his presence alone calms the chaos in the group (most of the time).

29. The way he values teamwork over individual success.

30. His deep, gravelly voice that feels like a warm hug.

31. Knowing he’s been through tough times but came out stronger.

32. When he cried feeling unworthy of being the leader—Cheol, we’ll fight anyone who made you feel like that.

33. Seeing him push through injuries just to be with SEVENTEEN and Carats.

34. His constant worry about whether he’s doing enough.

35. That one hiatus he took, which made us miss him like crazy but as long as he's okay.

36. Knowing he carries so much responsibility on his shoulders but never complains.

37. How he always thinks of the members’ happiness before his own.

38. His bittersweet smiles during emotional moments—why must you hurt us like this?

39. The way he supports his members during hard times.

40. He cried more over Woozi's hard work than their first win.

41. His leadership is unmatched—period.

42. He’s the glue that keeps SEVENTEEN together.

43. His vocals are criminally underrated.

44. His stage presence is absolute legend behavior.

45. How he hypes up the members like their #1 fan.

46. The way he makes sure every member gets their moment to shine.

47. He’s a friend, brother, and protector.

48. His rap go hard.

49. The way he’s always looking out for the younger members.

50. He gives off main character energy without overshadowing anyone.

51. His pout—it’s a lethal weapon.

52. The way he drinks water like he’s in a CF.

53. When he flips his hair mid-dance. Yes, it’s a reason.

54. His Jigeumbuteo. Iconic.

55. His obsession with Shinchan—same, honestly.

56. The way he claps when he’s laughing too hard.

57. His habit of clinging. Mood.

58. That one episode of Going Seventeen where he was scared giggling and wrapping arms with Shua just because he's scared lol.

59. How he randomly lifts the members like they weigh nothing (especially Hao).

60. When he plays rock-paper-scissors like it’s a serious sport.

61. Seungcheol is the reason I now find men with leadership skills attractive.

62. He’s personally responsible for ruining my bias list every other week.

63. The amount of time I’ve spent analyzing his fancams is embarrassing.

64. His “leader line” moments with RM and Bang Chan.

65. How he’s secretly a softie who loves hugs.

66. He lives rent-free in my brain, and I’m not charging him.

67. The way I feel personally attacked by his selfies.

68. How he can bias-wreck me with a single smirk.

69. The way he hypes up other members on stage like a proud dad.

70. Why does he make me emotional over a simple “fighting!”?

71. He’s a role model.

72. The way he shows that strength can be soft and kind.

73. How he’s grown with SEVENTEEN from boys to men.

74. His love for Carats—it’s so genuine it hurts.

75. He’s proof that hard work pays off.

76. The way he balances being goofy and responsible.

77. His dedication to his craft—it’s inspiring.

78. How he takes pride in SEVENTEEN’s achievements without being boastful.

79. The fact that he’s never forgotten where he came from.

80. Knowing he truly cares about SEVENTEEN’s legacy.

81. His dimples.

82. The way he flips between being a charismatic idol on stage and a complete goofball off stage.

83. When he said, “I’m SEVENTEEN’s dad,” and it’s both funny and true.

84. How he radiates warmth, even through a screen.

85. His goofy side that he shows when he’s comfortable.

86. The way he makes everyone feel like they belong.

87. His deep, thoughtful words during interviews.

88. How he remembers even the smallest details about the members.

89. The way he leads with both his heart and his head.

90. He’s the definition of dependable.

91. He’s a leader who listens, not just commands.

92. His honesty.

93. The way he reminds us that it’s okay to take breaks.

94. He’s proof that vulnerability is strength.

95. How he brings out the best in everyone around him.

96. His endless love for music and performing.

97. The way he’s stayed humble despite SEVENTEEN’s success.

98. Knowing he’ll always have SEVENTEEN and Carats’ backs.

99. He’s family.

100. Because, honestly, there’s no one else like Choi Seungcheol.

[eevees-hobbies]

Sext Me Like Ya Mean It - NSFW (Fem!Reader x Haruka Sakura)

Author’s Note: This was inspired by this Haruka Sakura Nendoroid, where he’s blushing and looking at his phone. "But, Eevee, how did a cute little figure inspire a fanfic that’s 8-pages long? " I can’t stress enough how down bad I am for this man. Like I would let him put it in my ***, and I’d  *** his *** off of a plate. And I’m not even fucking sorry about it. I might buy this thing and purchase a *** jar, to be fucking honest. Also, if you see any debauched shit with Haruka, tag me cuz I’m Jonesing (I’m dead fucking serious). 

Synopsis: Sakura and technology don’t mix, and now you’re telling him there’s this thing called sexting?! It’s a no from him…unless you can convince him that sexting can be fun for all involved! How will you manage to do that? I dare ya to guess.

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Haruka Sakura. Sexting in the form of text and video, Togame sees your breast, masturbation for you, public masturbation for Sakura, pet names including kitten, sir, and daddy. Tis smut. Minors Do Not Interact.

Word Count: 2.7K

Dividers by Saradika. Banner by me.

“What’s…sexting?” 

Sakura looks defeated as he poses the question. He had just grasped the concept of texting, and now you were throwing more terminology his way?

You shake your head, amused that someone who grew up in the age of smartphones is so pop-culture illiterate. “Sexting is just texting, except we send sexier, more suggestive messages through words, gifs, or pictures. It’s really hot.”

Sakura runs a hand through his dichromatic black and white tresses, “that sounds dumb and not sexy.” 

Even saying the word sexy has a persistent shade of pink stretching over cheeks. 

“Don’t knock it until you give it a try, Sakura! Anyway, have fun with Suo and Nirei tonight.” You give him a peck on the cheek, which results in a grumble and him pulling you in for a kiss on the lips.

You couldn’t stop thinking about your earlier conversation with Sakura. He was always so quick to disregard things he didn’t think he would be good at. 

You can think of all the times you suggested something new: baking, binge-watching Bridgerton, and volunteering at a cat cafe, and how all those things were immediately met with complaints from your boyfriend. 

It wasn’t until you forced his hand by involving him in those activities that he started to warm up to being someone who can bake a mean cake, enjoy a good cuddle session while enjoying the latest season of Bridgerton, and is actually a talented cat-whisperer.

So much like those situations, a little push might be warranted. 

You pick up your phone, enter the passcode, and flick past the home screen displaying a picture of you leaning up to kiss the chin of a blushing, scowling Sakura. 

Across town, Sakura sits at a bar with Nirei and Suo—a bar is usually not their typical meet-up place, but it’s Togame’s birthday, and they needed a venue that could accommodate the size of all the rowdy Bofurin and Shishtoren alums. It also doesn’t help that Kotoha also said, “Fuck. No.” to hosting the party at Cafe Pothos.

A light buzz vibrates in Sakura’s pocket; he leans over, pulls his phone from the back of his jeans, and looks at the screen. He’s pleasantly surprised to see a message from you; he thought you’d be half asleep by now.

God, I miss her. Hope she hasn’t started a new episode of Bridgerton without me.

As he taps on the text bubble icon to open the message, his eyes squint, needing some time to take in the message and then re-read it.

8:20 PM: Hey, baby. I miss you. Thinking of you sooooo much.

His heart thumps aggressively in his chest—a common result of simply thinking about you—as he stares at the text before him, already overthinking what he should send, but you beat him with a follow-up message. 

I hate back-to-back texts. Never have time to respond. 

8:22 PM: I’m lying in bed. Don’t worry…not watching our fave shows without you, kitten. 

He rolls his eyes at the pet name you gave him. You told him that he looks like an angry kitten when he scrunches his nose and bears his teeth. Wiith little complaint from Sakura, the pet name stuck. It’s so stupid and emasculating, but he kind of loves it. 

“You ok, Sakura? You’ve been staring at your phone for like five minutes.”

Sakura looks up at Nirei. “O-oh uh, yeah. Just texting.”

Suo looks over Sakura’s shoulder, trying to peak at his phone screen, “but you aren’t typing anything?”

Sakura tilts the phone away from his friends’ nosey eyes. Your conversations with each other are personal for him, and he’s committed to keeping you all to himself.

“Stop being fucking nosey!” he growls. Sakura decides this is becoming too much of a hassle, but as soon as he’s about to put his phone away, he receives another text from you.

He pauses to consider that he could wait until he is alone to read your messages, but who knows how long that would be? What if you needed something? He would be pissed at himself if he missed an opportunity to do something for you. He decides that the risk of getting caught being called a pet name by his girlfriend isn’t that big of a deal, so he flips his phone over to read your latest commentary. 

8:25 PM: Read receipts are on, so I know you’re looking at your phone. Party must suck.

What the fuck is a read receipt? 

8:26 PM: A read receipt means I can see that you’ve looked at the text message. 

He smiles, loving how you can read his mind even when you’re not physically in front of each other. He’s almost ready to make a pass at typing those exact thoughts out until the following message has him clutching the phone to his chest out of fear that someone could read it over his shoulder. 

8:28 PM: I think I’m…ovulating? I have this craaaazy desire to lick your balls all the way to the tip of your dick, kitten. 

Sakura gradually pulls the phone away from his chest, checking that Nirei and Suo are too engrossed in their conversation to notice the deep-set blush on his cheeks and how he’s peaking at the phone through his fingers. 

His thoughts are frantic; he has so many questions about a situation that he’s never been in before. Why would you send something so filthy through your phone? What is he supposed to do about any of this information when he’s so far away? 

8:30 PM: I’m drooling just thinking about it, baby. Remember when you fucked my face so hard that my hair had my drool in it? I want you to do that again. Fuck my cute little mouth. 

“Ok, this is ridiculous.” A hand reaches past Sakura’s face and takes the phone from his grasp. Sakura immediately stands up, the barstool he was sitting on making a loud scraping sound as it drags against the floor.

But the perpetrator is tall, and Sakura may have beaten his ass before, but they’re friends now, and it’s looked down upon to abuse your friends. 

Togame looks down at Sakura, shaking his head. “You’ve been on your phone every time I look over at ya. What is more important than spending time with me on my birthday?” He punctuates each syllable with a swing of Sakura’s phone.

Suo, ever the instigator, happily chimes in. “He’s texting Y/N!”

“Oh?” Togame’s brows furrow as he looks around the bar, realizing he hasn’t seen you all night. “Hey, yeah, your shadow is missing.”

In what feels like slow-motion, which it probably is because it’s Togame we’re talking about, Sakura watches as Togame’s eyes look down at the screen. He watches as emerald irises quickly scan the text—obviously a faster reader than Sakura—and his eyes widen. 

“Well, damn. That’s hot.”

Another text comes in to Togame’s delight. He lets out a whistle and hands the phone back over to Sakura.

“You sure you know what to do with a girl like that? I could take her off your hands.”

Sakura shoots him a murderous look; his fists clench as he steps toe-to-toe with him. “Wanna run that by me again?”

Togame chuckles, knowing that look in Sakura’s eyes. It was only a few years ago that he and Shishitoren had inspired that same look, which resulted in Sakura and Togame becoming close and saving his best friend’s life.

But somehow, the look Sakura harbors is more intense—protective—now than back then, and it’s all because of you. Togame fully believes that Sakura would be willing to swing on him for you and to protect your honor. Relenting, Togame pats his head, “Kidding. Y'all are cute together.”

Sakura looks down at the phone, curious to see what you’ve sent this time and what Togame glimpsed. What he sees is somehow worse than you calling him kitten or saying you want to gargle his balls down the back of your throat—it’s far worse. 

This time, you sent an image of you in front of a mirror, clad in only your bra and panties, legs folded underneath you as you pulled a bra cup down, exposing your breast.

His eyes dart up to Togame and down to his phone in quick succession, short-circuiting in a matter of seconds. 

Togame chuckles at Sakura’s reaction, “Yeah, she’s real pretty. Lucky guy.”

As Togame shuffles off with the image of your full breast sitting heavily on his mind and wondering what it would feel like for that same breast to sit heavily on his tongue—Sakura stomps off to the bathroom in hopes of regaining his composure.

Suo and Nirei exchange shrugs, assuming Sakura is experiencing one of his usual moods.

Sakura enters the furthest stall from the door and immediately texts you, with your picture still sitting enticingly at the top of his messages.

8:35 PM: Togame just saw that picture. 

Elipses in a bubble appear on the screen, signifying that you’re in the middle of typing. While he waits, he can’t help but look at the picture you sent, his thumb rubbing over your dark, perky nipple as he swallows thickly at the bulge straining against his jeans. 

8:37 PM: What did he say? Did he like it lol?

Sakura shakes his head. You are a ridiculously massive pain in his ass sometimes, but you’re also so…hot. 

8:39 PM: Send me another picture. But with less clothes. 

His heart is once again pounding in his chest, hoping you comply with little to no backtalk for once. He doesn’t even care that people are shuffling in and out of the bathroom as his foot taps against the shiny tile of the floor in impatience.

Another image appears on his phone in what feels like an eternity. This time, your legs are bent in front of you, with two fingers spreading your folds, allowing him to see every bit of your sex in the reflection of the mirror.

Before Sakura knows it, his hand is reaching down into his pants and palming his hard dick while zooming into the picture, inspecting every inch of you that he’s already previously committed to memory. His eyes dart over your clit, that cute little nub that makes you grip his hair as he sucks and licks at it. His eyes move down as he zooms into the image as much as it will allow, looking at your tight hole, which, despite image quality, he can tell is already shining with thick moisture that gives it that glazed, glistening look that makes his mouth water. 

Sakura unbuckles his belt, letting it drag his pants and boxers to his ankles. 

8:43 PM: Baby? Where’d you go? Or should I be saying hi to Togame instead?

Sakura grunts, not realizing that the logistics of sexting and jerking off can be so troublesome—you really have been teaching him a lot. He picks up his phone and shoots you another text.

8:45 PM: Shut up. Keep going. I like what I’m seeing. 

8:45 PM: Yes, sir.

His cock twitches at your use of that honorific. Yeah, being called kitten is lovely when you’re being sweet, but he also likes it when you call him sir or daddy when your naughty side comes out.

Sakura goes back to stroking himself and looking at the previous picture you sent him. The message is pushed up as you send a new image; he doesn’t have to scroll far to see something that makes him leak precum onto the toilet seat below him.

You’ve moved away from the mirror and are lying on the bed; your soft, thick thighs spread far enough to give him a clear view of the two fingers you have shoved in your pretty pussy. He can tell by the white coating near your knuckles that you must have been pumping the absolute hell out of her. 

His mind is racing. Were you thinking about him as you finger fucked yourself? What did you imagine him doing to you? How close were you, and could you hold off until he got home? 

Sakura squeezes his eyes shut, feeling like this entire experience is overloading his senses. He had just learned how to text, and now he’s sexting you? And you’re sending the dirtiest, filthiest messages to him as he jerks off in a public bathroom during his friend’s birthday party?

What the actual fuck..

He licks the palm of his hand and brings it down to stroke himself, imagining that it’s your slick being rubbed into the pores of his dick. He can’t even manage to start slowly because you’ve already done such an excellent job with these pictures—already making his cock hard to the extent that his balls hurt, and if he doesn’t cum soon, he’ll have to punch someone. 

Sakura begins mumbling under his breath as his strokes quicken and increase in intensity. She’s such a good girl for me. Perfectly needy and so into me. She’s so pretty and sweet, and I’m her Daddy.

He’s picturing you in every single position he’s ever had you in and every position he wants to try in the near future. 

He’s imagining sucking on your nipples, biting them as hard as he’d like to without you squealing that it hurts. 

He’s imagining pinning you underneath him while folding your ankles behind your head so he can hit that spot that makes you squirt on his stomach. 

He’s imagining you begging him to pull the condom off and fuck you raw because you “need every last drop of his baby batter” He shivers at the thought of you saying something so slutty and out of character.

The hand holding his phone vibrates, and he enthusiastically pulls his phone back in front of him. This time, you’ve sent a video; he’s never pressed play so fast in his life. 

The video is shakey, but when it beings to play, it focuses in on you fingering your pussy—-his pussy.

“S-SAKURA, FUCK,” blasts through the speakers as you breathily moan his name and your favorite expletive. 

He quickly lowers the volume but not too much so he can still hear as he presses the speaker to his ear, savoring the sound of your moans and the sound of your fingers being stuffed into your hungry cunt, mixing and squelching your juices noisily for him. 

It reminds him of that ASMR shit that you sometimes listen to–if he could have an ASMR recording of just you, your moans, and the sound your pussy makes for him, he’d listen to it every single day.

Sakura feels his hamstrings tighten and a burning sensation in his abdomen; listening to you is bringing him closer to his orgasm, and it feels like it’s going to be intense. 

God, and everything you were saying was just perfect.

“Your pussy misses you, Daddy.”

“I love the way-”  gasp “love the way you fuck me, baby.”

“Haru, I need you, baby. Please come home.”

“I’m so close, but I can’t cum without you, baby boy.”

“I want to squirt on your dick, sir. Please, please, please.”

Sakura hunches over and lets out a deep, guttural moan that can’t be stopped even as he grits his teeth. His balls clench violently, and his nut shoots out onto the toilet seat, toilet bowl, and on the floor. Even when he thinks that his cum is done spilling from him, more bubbles at his tip and dribbles down the length of his cock and along his knuckles. 

He leans against the stall wall and stares at the mess he made—all over himself and everywhere his airborne spunk could reach.

He’s convinced that he’s never come so hard in his life, and it was all because of you. Fuck! He hasn’t messaged you since you called him sir, and that was—he checks the clock on his phone—ten minutes ago!

He types out a message, sneering in disgust as cum smears on his phone screen.

9:05 PM: I just fucking came. Coming home. Don’t clean yourself up.

9:06 PM: CAME?! In your pants….? Or…?

9:08 PM: SAKURA?!

He doesn’t reply because he’s already on his way home to you.