#and I’m sure if anyone was to ask me ‘’how was it?’’ I’d say “I miss him’’

[blairwbb]

It’s never over

Paige Bueckers x fem!oc

A/N: I have never wrote anything before so bare with me please!! 

-

UConn.

I stare at the acceptance letter sitting in front of me on my laptop. UConn had always been my number one choice. Everyone in my family went there. That’s where my amazing parents met. It was where they always wanted me to go.

But she was there.

Paige was there.

You hadn’t seen her since that night. That night in summer after she’d graduated. her voice was filled with raw emotion and she drunkenly confessed everything. Just for her to go ghost and leave for college like you never existed.

You told yourself you were going to UConn for yourself. Your mom. Your dad. But of course the thought of her was burning in your head.

“I’m so proud of you” your mom exclaims snapping you out of thought. 

“We both are” your dad adds”

“Thank you” I reply back, forcing a big smile on my face.

I’m happy about going to UConn. Of course I am. I just can’t shake the thought of running into her on campus. I spent my whole senior year after she left hearing her name every corner I turned. Her name being plastered around the school gym for the records she holds. I know she’s mad a big name for herself at UConn so not much is gonna change. She a big name on campus. Which is something I was going to have to get used to.

-

“We’re here!” My mom says waking me up from my sleep. She’d offered to help me move in and who was I to say no?

“Are you ready to see Harley?” My mom asks referring to my roommate Harley who’d I’d known for years now. She graduated a year before me making her now a sophomore at UConn. She’s one of the few people who knows about everything. About Paige.

“Of course I am! Miss her so much” I reply back

“What about Paige? Heard she’s made a big name for herself on campus” oh trust me I know. My mom knew about Paige but not to the full extent she knew we were friends and I never really explained why we stopped talking but she always seemed to already know.

“Mom!” I exclaim not wanting to talk about her.

“Sorry! I was just wondering..you to were such good friends. I never understood what happened” she says looking at me like she’s knows. I know she knows. We just never talk about it.

“No mom I’m not ready to see her” I say as we park. I pull out my phone to let Harley know we’re here.

Just as we’re finishing our conversation about wich boxes she can carry and wich ones I can carry we hear the unmistakable joy filled voice of Harley.

“Mols!” Harley shouts, pulling me into a hug. 

“Harley!” I exclaim

We exachange words about how much we missed eachother before heading up to my dorm and setting everything up before seeing my mom off. 

-

Harley has been describing UConn to me for at least 20 minutes now. But not how to get around or the history of it. I already knew all of that. But the fun stuff. The reason people come to college. The parties. boys. Girls. She’d mention a “start of the year” party some frat was throwing tonight. All while avoiding a certain topic.

“Sooo” Harley drags out. I already know what’s she’s about to say.

“Don’t” I express before she can ever finish her sentence.

“I wasn’t going to!” She exclaims “but since you said it..have you thought about her?”

“Of course I have. But I don’t want Paige Bueckers to hold me back from enjoying my college experience. She consumed my thoughts all of my senior year I’m not letting it happen this year” I reply. I didn’t wanna talk about paige or even think about her. But I knew Harley was gonna force it out of me. She knows me better than anyone.

“Forgot about her. Let’s go to the party tonight” she suggests. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? It’s my first night?” I ask knowing she’s going to force me out one way or another.

“Yes! Get your mind off things and you have me to guide you!” She replies.

“Ok fine” I agree

“Find an outfit!” she exclaims! Jumping from her bed.

-

When we arrive to the party I’m Immediately hit with the smell of Alcohol and the music thumping in my ears . I was never much of a drinker. Me and Alcohol never mixed well. Harley guides me through the crowd of people until we reach the kitchen where she pours herself a drink. Offering me one. I decline. She knows me. She knows I don’t do well with drinking and she doesn’t push. She’s grateful I even came in the first place.

“Hey! I’m gonna go talk to Brock are you ok here by yourself?” She shouts over the music. “Yeah I’ll be fine. Have fun!” I reply and she gives me a squeeze before turning to go mingle. 

I’m not gonna hold her back from having fun so I linger around the kitchen scanning the crowd until my eyes land on a certain someone.

My heart drops.

Paige.

The one person I didn’t want to see. There she is standing there looking beautiful as ever. Her blond hair draped over her shoulders. She look so effortlessly good. She laughings. She’s looks happy. Like she’s has no cares in the world. Then my eyes move and catch a glance of the girl standing next to her. A red head. Freckles. Blue eyes. It’s like looking in a mirror. Like a duplicate of me. No way Paige didn’t think of me when standing next to that girl. My gaze wonders back to Paige. How could she look so happy? Next to that girl who’s basically me. 

Then suddenly our eyes meet and her smile drops. Suddenly she’s not laughing. She’s tense. Like she feels the tension across the room. But it goes away in a matter of seconds she turns back to the girl and pulls her into a kiss. I almost throw up then and there. Suddenly every memory comes back and I need a drink and down a beer and pour myself another.

I decide to go find Harley in room full of people. “Dance with me!” I say to Harley when I reach her.

“Are you drinking?” Harley asks looking concerned.

“Yes. Yes. I’ll be fine I’m not gonna drink a lot” I lie. I won’t be fine. Not after what I saw. The way Paige just turned and acted like I didn’t exist. The way she kissed that girl who looked unmistakably like me.

I pull Harley on to the floor to dance ignoring her worried look. We dance along to the beat of the current song playing. Surrounded my a bunch of people, I’m having fun. Trying to ignore Paige haunting my mind.

Suddenly the urge to use the bathroom rushes over me and I excuse myself from Harley and head that way. To my surprise there was a couple of girls waiting outside. 

“Great” I mumble under my breath. 

But that’s when I hear someone behind me agree. “I know right.” 

I turn around and I’m meet with the eyes of a beautiful red head. The same red head that was with Paige. I’m froze a confused look on my face cause by a bunch of thought rushing through my mind at once. 

“Hi I’m ivy!” She introduces herself offering her hand. I shake it introducing myself.

“I’m Molly! I’m a freshman. Didn’t expect to meet my twin my first day here!” I say overly excited trying to hide what I’m really thinking.

“Oh my gosh! You’re totally right we look so similar. Do you mind if we get a picture I have to show my mom?” She says.

She’s giddy. A little to giddy for my liking. A personality Paige would never go for or at-least the Paige I knew.

“Of course!” I reply and she’s already pulling her phone out.

We take the picture our smile’s mirroring each other. Its weird. Weird how this girl looks exactly like me but we’re the complete opposite. 

“Thank you!” She says 

“Of course!” I reply before heading in the bathroom.

Why. Why would I do that? Take a picture with the girl Paige is now obviously “involved”? With. I have no idea what they were she’s someone Paige would never go for.

-

“Hey there you are! Was wondering what took so long.” I say as Ivy is approaching me.

“Oh there was a line. Met a girl that looked weirdly like me! Here I can show you the picture” she says.

girl? Looked exactly like her? It couldn’t be right. I mean she was her but that couldn’t be the girl she ran into.

And that’s when she pulls up the picture it hits me. Molly. I swallow hard. I hadn’t talk to Molly since everything happened. Tonight was my first night seeing her. It’s been a while but everything still weighed to heavy on my heart. The way I ran. I hated myself for it. What was she doing at UConn??

“Paige?” Ivy says as I’m stuck lost for words

“You’re right y’all look exactly alike” I reply back smiling. Hoping she doesn’t see the way my brain is falling apart right now.

I had to talk to her but I don’t have that right anymore. What would I even say to her? I’m sorry? Like they would fix everything. Just as the thoughts are flowing I look up to see her beautiful red hair flowing behind her as she’s exiting the party. I should have ran after her. Tell her everything and how much I regret. But I can’t.

I’m so fucked.

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

Your Vampire: Chapter Nine

Over the Rainbow

(Max Phillips x f!reader)

Words: 1, 608

Summary: final chapter!

Warnings: saucy suggestions, the worst ex in the world, mild swearing, no y/n, reader has nickname Garland, mild angst

Check out masterlist here

“I get what Tony meant,” said Max. “When he said, ‘say it loud and hear music playing, say it soft and it sounds like praying’.”

“Huh?”

“When I say your name during sex.”

“Oh,” you smiled at the thought because it was certainly true.

The two of you were snuggled up on the couch watching West Side Story. You felt comfortable enough in your romantic relationship to no longer feel upset over the on-screen romantic relationship.

The half-opened boxes that had been lying around the walk-in for a while had been emptied. Max did not have enough suits to fill his entire wardrobe so it made sense that your clothing would occupy the other half. Places were found for all the knick-knacks you collected over the years, anything else that caused you grief were donated. You had never felt more at home.

“When we come together, I hear choirs of heaven. Do you hear anything?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. I hear my heartbeat I guess.”

“That must be nice.”

“Is it weird not having a heartbeat?”

“You get used to it pretty quickly.”

“Are there any other things you’d have to get used to?”

He sighed, “Well, the sleeping arrangements are tough the first few times, but once you’re in a deep sleep, it’s nice.”

“Huh.”

“I know I haven’t properly asked this yet but,” he fingers danced across your skin. “Would you consider being turned?”

“By you?”

“Who else?”

“Does it have to be supervised?”

“I think it would be different. We could light candles, make it special.”

“And you drain my blood, feed me yours, and then you bury us?”

“Okay, who spilled that secret?” he sat up slightly.

“So the media depictions are right?”

“I guess,” he slumped back. “That’s how it happened to me.”

“Was it weird?” you ask gently.

“The vampire who turned me, it was an honour to be turned by him, but it was weird waking up next to him. I’m sure he’d like you though.”

“Really?”

He nodded, “Everyone else will be jealous. There’s a reason soulmates are a legend; I don’t know anyone who knows anyone. Then here I come along, freshly turned, and I’ve got you.”

You smiled, then realised, “Won’t people try to steal me away from you?”

“Oh no, there’s the vampire code.”

“Vampire code?”

“Yes, vampire code,” he quoted, “’No harm shall befall a vampire’s chosen mate’.”

You furrowed your brow, “So no harm befalls me, but what about you?”

He raised his eyebrows, “Do you think they’ll risk angering you?”

“They better not,” you leaned back into Max. “I’d need some time to think about the turning stuff.”

“Take as much time as you need to.”

“I’d have to weigh all the pros and cons and…I just want to be human for a bit longer.”

“I’ve got eternity to wait.”

“Well, not too long. I don’t want to be an old lady by then. It would just be weird.”

“You’d still be beautiful,” you turned away.

“Sorry,” you said. “I’m still not quite used to that yet.”

“Me calling you beautiful? When was the last time that prick told you you were beautiful?”

He saw the struggle of remembrance on your face.

“Well,” he kissed you. “I’ll make you forget everything about him. And I’ll do all the things he never would.”

“Really? Like what?”

“I will wash the dishes, put dirty laundry in the hamper,” you moaned. “Change the toilet roll.”

“Max, we are going to have to move this to the bedroom.”

“I’ll change the sheets,” he murmured.

That set you off, “You’ll have to bite me now.”

The daily routine the two of you established had what Max called a more fun bonus added to it. The bedroom activities were a daily occurrence, much to your delight. Small, delightful fact, vampire saliva will instantly clot any wound. So obviously, bloodwork became a thing. Max’s favourite thing was the take a small bite of your femoral artery, lick the wound, and then his tongue would continue further up. It left you a screaming, sobbing mess.

“Did I pass out?”

“For a bit, yeah.”

“Sorry.”

“My darling, you have nothing to apologise for. You passed out with that absolutely adorable smile on your face,” you tried to hide your smile in your pillow. “Yeah, that one.”

“What about you? Did you manage to…finish before I did?”

“If it’s good for you, then it’s good for me.”

“So you enjoyed it?”

“Garland, I could do that all day.”

“Could you? I know you could, but would you want to?”

“Absolutely, I do. You know, it’s a shame you don’t get your period anymore. I would have really looked after you.”

“Do you mean…?” you gestured to your lower half.

He raised his eyebrows, “We could’ve scheduled a week off a month.”

“Max, I don’t bleed for a week straight. Well, I never used to,” you paused. “It was only two or three days of heavy bleeding.”

“Okay, three days off a month. And it’ll save you on products. And I get a nice supply of blood while you get orgasms.”

“You made a PowerPoint didn’t you?”

He paused, “Yes, I did make one.”

“Can I see it?”

“You want to see the PowerPoint I made when I was a depressed vampire whose soulmate was unavailable?”

“You’re sexy when you do them.”

For bonus points, he presented it sans clothing.

*****

But the happy times did not last forever.

One day, you held out your wrist. He gladly took a sip but then stopped. He just stared at your wrist.

“Max? What’s wrong? Please, you’re scaring me, what’s wrong?”

He looked at you with tears starting to form.

“I think you need to go back to the doctors.”

Max paced around his car. You forbade him from accompanying you as it would have made you more anxious, so he waited in the carpark. Finally, he saw you approaching. Not acknowledging him, you got into the back seat. Max slid in next to you. He was going to say something but then saw your face.

“It came back.”

“Is surgery an option again?”

“It’s in my liver.”

“Fuck,” he covered his mouth and turned away. His hand curled into a fist but he didn’t punch anything, no matter how angry he was with the world. He turned back to you with such tenderness in his voice. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just hold me.”

And he held you for what felt like an eternity.

A few months later…

The office was quiet apart from the hum of overhead lights. Max Phillips was away so Jacob was acting manager. He saw this as a guarantee that he would be given his promised promotion. And rumours of a change in leadership made that promise even more likely. Already, he was walking around like he owned the place.

He was very confident the day he was called into Max’s office.

“Hey, J-man.”

“It’s Jacob.”

“Whatever,” he patted him roughly on the shoulder. “So when’s the wedding?”

“Well, we’re waiting for the baby to be born. Then Cidnee wants to lose the weight so, sometime next year, maybe.”

“You should have eloped like I did.”

“You got married?”

“Yup. Best thing ever,” he sat at his desk. “You’re probably aware of the change in situation here as Mr. Whitby had to take early retirement. He’ll mostly be spending his time in court due to certain allegations which due to my evidence, oops, spoke too much,” Jacob didn’t notice the slip. “But Max, you handsome devil, who will take the leadership role? Well, we have come to a decision.”

Jacob took in an excited breath.

“So,” continued Max. “I will sadly be leaving this position to take on the role of Director. The role of Manager is going to,” he paused. “My lovely darling wife!”

In you walked.

“So good news, I’m not dying of cancer. Bad news, well bad news for you, I’m your new boss!”

Jacob stared in confusion.

“You?”

“Yes, me!” you smiled, showing off the sharp fangs.

“She’s a vampire? She wasn’t on the list! How did she skip the queue?”

Max gestured to both of you, “Vampire soulmates, less paperwork involved.”

“You want to spend all eternity with her?”

“Did you not hear the soulmate thing?”

“Now,” you said, ignoring Jacob’s dropped jaw. “We’re going to completely restructure this department. Actually, the first thing I’m going to do is fire Renny because that man is a creep and a walking HR nightmare.”

“Darling, you’re rambling.”

“So, everyone’s position is going to be based on their skill level and not on who’s arse they’ve kissed.”

“You’re just going to let this happen?” Jacob asked Max.

Max just sat there with his chin on his hands, gleefully watching all this unfold. “Absolutely!”

“Seriously,” you addressed him. “Who will you complain to? The top?”

“I’m the top,” said Max. “Although, I do like to be the bottom.”

“Why?” asked Jacob. “Why do this to me?”

“I was considering just killing you, especially after how you treated my lovely darling wife. But then realised it would be more fun to string you along with the promise of promotion and then bam, demoted.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair. Unless you’re a vampire. Which you never will be!”

You happily slammed the door in his face. You turned to your husband.

“That was fun.”

“I had fun watching.”

Walking towards him, you said, “I believe you’re sitting at my desk.”

“So come and sit here,” he gestured to his lap at which you sat.

“I’m your vampire.”

“And I’m yours.”

Previous

Lovingly tagging @chaithetics @cevans-is-classic @galaxyedging @letsgobarbs @peepawispunk @missladym1981 @kirsteng42 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @ericamarie093 @yorksgirl @popcornforone @allthe-ships @clowncummiess @permanentlydizzy @readingiskeepingmegoing @elegantduckturtle @jxvipike @ellenmunn @grogusmum

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me. I’m just wondering how threesomes even happen. I’ve never had one, thought about it I guess but like.. who executes the idea? Do you talk about it beforehand or does it just happen? Who makes sure it’s fair?”

I wonder the same things, so I think these are 100% fair questions haha

Steve let out a hard laugh. “When I’m involved, everyone has always had a good time. It’s been fair.”

Period 😌

“Steve.” You groaned out his name. “Just tell me. Who is she?” Steve’s lips grew into a small smirk as he gave you a sideways glance. “Not a she.” You gasped, sitting up on your knees at his side. “What? Who? Oh my god, I shouldn’t have just assumed it was a woman.” You stopped your train of thought and narrowed your eyes. “Wait. Oh my god. Oh my god! Is it Bucky?”

That sounds about right 🤭

“Ahh!!” You tapped your hand on his shoulder, excited. “That makes so much sense. You two have such a close friendship and honestly, that’s..” You let out a long breath, closing your eyes for a second. “That’s really hot. You and Bucky. Damn.”

Facts

Steve shifted slightly in his position, raising an eyebrow and watching as you grew excited beside him on the couch. “Sorry? That’s really what?” “Steve.” You opened one eye and looked at him quickly. “You heard me. Listen, I’m not blind. Bucky is attractive. But don’t– I’m not, like, attracted to him. Okay, well, I am but not like that.” “Like how then?” Steve couldn’t help but make you squirm about this whole topic now. It was something he hadn’t ever considered with you - sharing your intimacy with anyone else. Mostly because the idea of any other person on the planet even looking at you like that made him fire up with a possessive side he had a hard time hiding. But… Bucky wasn’t just anyone. 

This sounds promising 👀

There was a certain thrill that Bucky and Steve used to share when they’d do this together. The experiences were never really planned but Steve knew if someone caught his eye that Bucky would be interested in just as much as he was, and they were both in the mood for a little extra fun, then it was only fair to throw it on the table. They had their own signal, even. A quick side hug with a keyword dropped into the conversation, followed by a confirmation double ear tug.

Omg I love their secret code 😍

You pulled back slightly. “What?” It looked like your mind was misfiring as you found your words. “But.. wouldn’t that be weird? Also.. wait. Are you – Hmm. It sounds fun but kind of scary and.. How do you even start and..” You paused and closed your eyes again. “Would Bucky even want to… with me..? Am I even his type?” “Sweetheart,” Steve turned directly to you, grasping your hands in his. “You have no idea.”

Oh 👀

“Wanna switch it up?” Steve asked slowly, turning his head to meet Bucky’s eyes. “Maybe we split a grapefruit sidecar?” Bucky nearly choked as he turned to face Steve directly. “What? Rogers, I’m not going to .. If you are planning to fuck this up with your girl over some other broad.. I’m going to fuckin’ kick your ass and–” Steve brought his hands up to stop Bucky from doing exactly that. “Jesus, Buck. Don’t think so fucking little of me, punk.” Steve rolled his neck then leaned in closer. “This invite is coming from me and my girl.”

I love how Bucky jumps to her defense so quickly

Steve grinned, raising his eyebrows up for a brief moment. “You need a second to mull it over?” Bucky blinked, clearly letting his mind catch up. He quickly discarded his glass on the bar and raised his hand to tug on his earlobe. “Stevie, you know I’d never admit to having impure thoughts about your girl but..”

Well, say it now or hold your peace 🤭😌

You had always been aware of how attractive Bucky was. You were a normal, warm blooded woman after all. But there was something even hotter about seeing him cross through the doorway, knowing full well what intentions you all shared. And the fact that Bucky looked nervous, like his confidence wasn’t guarding him as it usually did, made it all feel even better.

This is gonna be so good 😌

Steve lowered his voice, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Baby, what do you want? You wanna help Bucky feel even better?” Holy fuck, you did. You really did. Jesus Christ almighty, the whole concept of Steve encouraging you to put your mouth on Bucky was electric. 

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Bucky swallowed hard, sparing another glance towards Steve before looking back at you. He sucked in a breath then reached his hand out to steady your chin. “Only if you want to, doll.” You couldn’t help but smile, genuinely. Despite being on your knees in front of him, you were grateful that Bucky was still confirming your own interest in this whole thing.

Consent is sexy!!

“For her knees, you dumbass,” Steve laughed, and you couldn’t help but join in. “Oh, fuck. Sorry,” Bucky mumbled, helping you position it under your knees.

This just shows how nervous/out of it Bucky is and it's really cute 😍

Something about the way Bucky talked about you and Steve really riled you up.

Yeah because that's really hot🔥

He collapsed against the couch, eyes blown open wide. “Holy fucking shit. Stevie, the mouth on your girl..” “You can address your compliments to her directly, Buck,” Steve laughed, standing from where he had been sitting in his chair and coming over to help you up. “You might have made his brain malfunction, sweetheart.”

And Steve couldn't be prouder 😌

You smiled proudly, meeting Steve’s lips for a kiss. You leaned against him again, tilting your head up to him. “Need you inside me, please?” “Yeah?” Steve asked. His hand rested against the base of your neck, holding you flush against his chest. “And can Bucky watch?” You couldn’t help but giggle and nod.

Let's give him a show 🤭

“I’m gonna slide right in, baby,” he breathed against your neck, swirling his fingers around your clit. “Maybe next time, we do this at the same time. Do you want to try that? Bucky in your mouth while you’re full of me?”

 Between your own moaning and Steve’s, you could barely hear Bucky across the room but he said your name out loud. You met his eyes as he was rubbing his shaft. Bucky smirked, biting his lip as he watched you bounce against the desk. “Gonna let me feel that pussy next time?”

🥵🥵🥵

Your climax felt volcanic - a flurry of neurons firing off in your brain as you quivered, safely pressed against the desk as the weight of Steve covered you like a warm blanket. He came right after, growling in your ear as he spilled into you. Steve stayed in place after, as if unable to let go as he caught his breath.  You leaned back into the soft leather chair, eyes closed as you grinned.

What a high to bask in 😌🤤

There was a shift, though. When Bucky opened the car door for you, exchanging another smirk with Steve. Something in the air felt different.

 Steve kneeled before you, pressing a kiss to the side of your knee as he fixed your skirt.  “Baby, you okay?” You opened your eyes and looked down. He was flush and seemed awfully content. You weren’t sure you had ever seen him smile like that before.  You bit your lip, resisting your urge to scream with joy. You glanced from Steve over to Bucky. He was still sitting on the couch, though his pants were done up and buckled again. “I’m really good. Like, wow. Great. Amazing.”

🥰🥰🥰

Oh i can't wait for more of their shenanigans 🤭👀

grapefruit sidecar (part 1)

part of the Sink Into Me universe

Pairing: mob boss! Steve Rogers x plus size! reader x mob! Bucky Barnes

Summary: It was just an innocent question. You definitely didn't have any ulterior motives: “Have you ever had a threesome?” But when Steve admits something from his past with Bucky, you can't help but wonder...

Part 1: The Club | Part 2: The Penthouse

Warnings: 18+!!! established relationship (Steve x reader), MFM threesome shenanigans

Notes: here we gooooo! I don't think you *need* to read Sink Into Me to enjoy this two part series, but hey - feel free to read it! enjoy! and yes in my mind these two fuck like owen gray and small hands what who said that

--

“Have you ever had a threesome?”

The question came from your lips so casually, so innocently that Steve wasn’t sure he had heard you correctly. He stilled his pen and lifted his eyes to you, curled up in the corner of the couch in his office. 

You were typing away on your phone, nursing the tail end of a hangover. Steve had insisted he could take you home to have a nap following the late brunch you shared together, but you insisted you wanted to just orbit near him for the rest of the day. 

He couldn’t say no to that. But he also couldn’t keep putting off some paperwork, so armed with an oversized iced tea for hydration, you made yourself comfortable on the couch while he worked. And now he knew exactly why you had encouraged him to get a nice throw blanket to keep at the office too. 

Steve cleared his throat, finally drawing your eyes to his. You gave him a cheeky smile. 

“And where is that question coming from?”

“Uhm,” you started slowly, sitting up a bit straighter as you put your phone down. “A weird turn of topics in the group chat with the girls.” 

Something about your smile made Steve think that wasn’t the whole truth. 

He laughed. Okay, he’d play along. “And is my response going to be the next topic in the group chat with the girls?” 

You shook your head. “I wouldn’t do that. Just because Maria loves updating us on her sex life constantly, doesn’t mean I contribute the same way. Scouts honour.” 

Steve pushed back on his chair and stood, removing his glasses as he walked over to join you. 

“Weird place for pillow talk,” he said, planting himself beside you on the couch. You were quick to adjust and cozy up at his side. “But yes, I’ve had a threesome. More than one.”

“Oooh. With who?”

One of his eyebrows shot up, scanning your curious wide eyes. “Sweetheart.”

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me. I’m just wondering how threesomes even happen. I’ve never had one, thought about it I guess but like.. who executes the idea? Do you talk about it beforehand or does it just happen? Who makes sure it’s fair?”

Steve let out a hard laugh. “When I’m involved, everyone has always had a good time. It’s been fair.”

“Okay but with who?”

He hesitated. 

“Come onnnnn. Who was it? When was it? Wait. Have you had more than one? Was it with someone I know? You know I don’t care about your history with Sharon. She probably has some attractive girlfriends.”

Steve blew out a breath. What did he have to lose here? You and him were both typically very secure in your relationship, but he still didn’t want to unintentionally hurt any feelings. 

“Okay. If you really want to know.” He shook his head, somehow confused he was even talking to you about this. “I’ve had a few. Haven’t happened in a while, usually there are just certain circumstances where… It happened organically. With a repeat participant.” 

You nodded, eager. “Whoooo?”

“Usually it was me, and that repeat participant, and a nice girl we found at the club.”

“Steve.” You groaned out his name. “Just tell me. Who is she?”

Steve’s lips grew into a small smirk as he gave you a sideways glance. “Not a she.”

You gasped, sitting up on your knees at his side. “What? Who? Oh my god, I shouldn’t have just assumed it was a woman.” You stopped your train of thought and narrowed your eyes. “Wait. Oh my god. Oh my god! Is it Bucky?”

Steve raised his eyebrows then gave you a slow nod.

“Ahh!!” You tapped your hand on his shoulder, excited. “That makes so much sense. You two have such a close friendship and honestly, that’s..” You let out a long breath, closing your eyes for a second. “That’s really hot. You and Bucky. Damn.”

Steve shifted slightly in his position, raising an eyebrow and watching as you grew excited beside him on the couch. “Sorry? That’s really what?”

“Steve.” You opened one eye and looked at him quickly. “You heard me. Listen, I’m not blind. Bucky is attractive. But don’t– I’m not, like, attracted to him. Okay, well, I am but not like that.”

“Like how then?” Steve couldn’t help but make you squirm about this whole topic now. It was something he hadn’t ever considered with you - sharing your intimacy with anyone else. Mostly because the idea of any other person on the planet even looking at you like that made him fire up with a possessive side he had a hard time hiding. But… Bucky wasn’t just anyone. 

There was a certain thrill that Bucky and Steve used to share when they’d do this together. The experiences were never really planned but Steve knew if someone caught his eye that Bucky would be interested in just as much as he was, and they were both in the mood for a little extra fun, then it was only fair to throw it on the table. They had their own signal, even. A quick side hug with a keyword dropped into the conversation, followed by a confirmation double ear tug.

It had always been a sober choice, too. 

“Stop,” you replied quietly, leaning into Steve’s shoulder again. “Forget I said anything.”

“I can forget it.. If that’s what you want.” He extended his hand to prop your chin up, encouraging you to look him in the eyes again. “But if it’s something you want to discuss further..”

You pulled back slightly. “What?” It looked like your mind was misfiring as you found your words. “But.. wouldn’t that be weird? Also.. wait. Are you – Hmm. It sounds fun but kind of scary and.. How do you even start and..” You paused and closed your eyes again. “Would Bucky even want to… with me..? Am I even his type?”

“Sweetheart,” Steve turned directly to you, grasping your hands in his. “You have no idea.”

—

Steve knew the right moment would present itself. Because the millisecond you had started the conversation with him about it, he had a feeling it would happen eventually. But, it was important that the timing was just right.

Mostly because he didn’t want you to worry or panic about it. In fact, in the few conversations you and Steve had shared about the entire threesome topic, he had made it abundantly clear that you would be in charge. That was usually the method Steve and Bucky followed anyway, depending on the third person sharing a bed with them.

Really though, after all of this chatter about the possibility, Steve could see your confidence and excitement growing. You had told Steve it was his responsibility to read your energy and Bucky’s to make sure everything felt right. And Steve had suggested maybe easing into the whole thing anyways. Maybe you didn’t go all the way right away. 

But, the right moment had to arrive.

And on a very ordinary Saturday night at the club, things seemed to be aligning. First and foremost, Steve knew you were in a great mood. You had an extra day off, you’d recently finished a big project at work and Steve had even just surprised you with a shopping spree. He knew how rarely you spent money on yourself, especially for new pieces of clothing. He had been especially generous when it came to a few pieces of lingerie. 

One set specifically he knew you had on under that new dress. While the club wasn’t always your preferred location for a Saturday night, you had been the one to suggest it this time. You wanted to dance with your girls and who was Steve to hold you back?

As for Bucky, Steve knew his friend had recently gone on a few bumpy first dates. First dates that didn’t deliver because it was clear from Bucky’s on and off grumpy mood that he was pretty pent up. Steve knew it was still a shot in the dark if Bucky would want to participate, but maybe he’d want to let off some steam and have fun.

So, when it was early enough in the night that both you and Bucky hadn’t yet overindulged, Steve started to put a plan into action.

When you came back upstairs to his private area for a break from the dance floor, Steve handed you a glass of water. 

“I’m cutting you off,” he whispered into your ear.

“I’ve only had one glass of –”

“Baby..” Steve pressed a kiss against your neck. “Just trust me. You go back down and dance while I chat with Bucky.”

You let out a small gasp, reaching out to grab the lapel of Steve’s suit. “Wait. Really? Are we–”

Steve cut you off with a kiss, then motioned towards the dancefloor. You gave him a coy smile over your shoulder as you hurried down to find Wanda and Maria again.

With a deep breath, Steve ran a hand through his hair then headed towards the bar. Bucky had his back against the counter, sipping a rocks glass as he surveyed the space. Steve stopped at Bucky’s side, giving him a small nudge on the arm.

“What are you drinkin’?” Steve prompted, matching Bucky’s pose.

Bucky furrowed his brow, turning to look at Steve. “Whiskey.”

“Wanna switch it up?” Steve asked slowly, turning his head to meet Bucky’s eyes. “Maybe we split a grapefruit sidecar?”

Bucky nearly choked as he turned to face Steve directly. “What? Rogers, I’m not going to .. If you are planning to fuck this up with your girl over some other broad.. I’m going to fuckin’ kick your ass and–”

Steve brought his hands up to stop Bucky from doing exactly that. “Jesus, Buck. Don’t think so fucking little of me, punk.” Steve rolled his neck then leaned in closer. “This invite is coming from me and my girl.”

Bucky’s eyes blew open, mouth slightly agape as he looked at Steve. “Are you serious?”

Steve grinned, raising his eyebrows up for a brief moment. “You need a second to mull it over?”

Bucky blinked, clearly letting his mind catch up. He quickly discarded his glass on the bar and raised his hand to tug on his earlobe. “Stevie, you know I’d never admit to having impure thoughts about your girl but..”

Steve laughed then grasped Bucky’s shoulder. “My office. 20 minutes.”

–

Steve came and found you on the dancefloor not long after he had pitched that tonight would be the night. And holy shit, you couldn’t believe it. You were buzzing with more than just excitement - there was a flutter of nerves and impossibilities flashing through your mind too.

Even though Steve had quite thoroughly told you how much fun you’d all have, how Bucky would enjoy himself just as much as you would, if not more. Despite those reassurances, you wouldn’t believe it could even happen until, well, it happened.

Now, as you were heading to Steve’s office - there seemed to be some sort of electricity in the air. 

God, you looked hot tonight. That was helping a lot. Out of all the clothes Steve had dropped down cash for, the dress you were wearing had been one of your favourites. It hugged the curves of your body in the most perfect way, with a generous view of your chest and a short hemline that left little to the imagination. You had felt effortlessly sexy in it, especially with the lacy garments underneath threatening to peak out at the top.

Steve’s office was empty when you both arrived, the walls dulling the bass from trickling in from the club. Steve left the big lights off, opting for just lamplight and ambiance from the illuminated Brooklyn skyline seeping in. 

Before you could start nervously pacing, Steve pulled you into his arms. He was leaning against the edge of the desk and you stood between his legs.

“Hey, remember what I said before..” Steve started, slowly tracing his fingers up and down your arms as he kept eye contact with you. “If you change your mind, at any point.. You just say so. And then it’s over, no questions asked.”

You nodded. “I know. Thank you.” As much as you were trying to keep it together, you couldn’t help but giggle. “I’m excited. But I'm nervous, too. How does this start and–”

A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. After a few seconds, there was a voice.

“It’s, uh, me. Bucky.”

Steve glanced down at you, giving you one last look waiting for your confirmation. You responded with a coy smile and a nod, shifting around to lean against Steve. He draped his arms around you and called out for Bucky to come in.

You had always been aware of how attractive Bucky was. You were a normal, warm blooded woman after all. But there was something even hotter about seeing him cross through the doorway, knowing full well what intentions you all shared. And the fact that Bucky looked nervous, like his confidence wasn’t guarding him as it usually did, made it all feel even better.

Fuck. These men and their suits, too. Bucky was wearing black on black on black and the way his metal arm glinted under the lamplight, you nearly choked.

Bucky shut the door behind him, glancing over his shoulder quickly to look back at Steve. You sensed Steve’s nod, because Bucky made sure to lock the door, too. Then after an awkward silence, Bucky took it upon himself to sit on the couch.

“So,” Steve started, all calm and casual as his fingertips skated against your exposed collarbone. 

All you could do was stare straight ahead at Bucky, watching him watching you and Steve. Fuck, what happened now? How did you cross this line and–

You gasped as Steve’s lips found your neckline, weakening your knees as his tongue and lips explored your skin.

“Sweetheart,” Steve paused, moving one hand down your body and toying with the bottom of your dress. “How are you feeling?”

You whimpered, closing your eyes. “G-good. Yeah, so good.”

Steve grinned against your neck, pressing another kiss under your ear. “Buck?”

You looked back towards Bucky as he took a second to reply. He was already adjusting the top of his jeans, taking in slow breaths. “Yeah, so far so..” When he bit his lip, you nearly collapsed.

Steve lowered his voice, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Baby, what do you want? You wanna help Bucky feel even better?”

Holy fuck, you did. You really did. Jesus Christ almighty, the whole concept of Steve encouraging you to put your mouth on Bucky was electric. 

“You already makin’ a mess of those nice panties, baby?” You nodded again, looking back up at Steve as he grabbed your neck. “You take care of Bucky then he’ll watch me take care of you. How’s that sound?” 

Your reply was a jumbled up moan of positivity as Steve kissed you again, hard and wet before squeezing your hips and swatting your ass. 

As you walked towards him, Bucky sat up just a bit straighter on the couch. He was still nervous but judging by how he was running his hands down his thighs, you only imagined how excited he was, too.

“Hi Bucky,” you said quietly as you very slowly got down on your knees. “Can I..” You dragged your tongue across your lips, then glanced down at his belt.

Bucky swallowed hard, sparing another glance towards Steve before looking back at you. He sucked in a breath then reached his hand out to steady your chin. “Only if you want to, doll.”

You couldn’t help but smile, genuinely. Despite being on your knees in front of him, you were grateful that Bucky was still confirming your own interest in this whole thing.

“Yes, please.” You nodded and placed your hands on his knees, slowing running them up his slacks until you met his belt buckle.

He was quick to assist you in your task, pulling at his belt and lifting his hips as you yanked on his pants and boxers. His cock was already hard and ready and you couldn’t even help yourself, immediately reaching for it.

“Fuck,” Bucky exhaled, hands clutching the couch as you ran your hands against it.

“Buck,” Steve called out from across the room. “Pillow.”

You looked up at Bucky, who was scrambling to reach out and grab a nearby throw pillow from the opposite side of the couch. Without a second thought, he lifted it to rest behind his head before Steve interrupted him.

“For her knees, you dumbass,” Steve laughed, and you couldn’t help but join in.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry,” Bucky mumbled, helping you position it under your knees.

You didn’t reply, but instead you gave Bucky a sweet smile then got to work. You swiped your tongue around the head of his cock, before trailing it down along the soft silk of his shaft. Then you took a deep breath and slowly opened your lips, sucking on the tip.

Bucky’s hands gripped the couch even tighter, barely resisting the urge to thrust his hips upwards. You appreciated his restraint, though you couldn’t help but feel for him.

Your name left his lips, like a curse word. “Doll..” You felt one of his hands against your jaw. “Look at me.” Your eyes darted up to his and he really cursed this time. “Fuck, oh fuck. Yes, look at you with my cock in your mouth. So fucking sexy.”

That set you off, attempting to take even more of his length into your mouth as you looked at him. Whatever you couldn’t fit, you stroked with one of your hands, fueled by the drool dripping past your lips. 

You got into a groove, shifting through a pattern of swirling your tongue, sucking long and hard and adding in both fists stroking on and off too. Above you, Bucky seemed to be in a euphoric state. And he couldn’t stop praising you for it, either.

“Jesus Christ, doll. This fucking mouth. So pretty, so fucking pretty with a cock in it. You do this for Stevie too, don’t you? You’ve done it right here on this couch haven’t you?” 

Something about the way Bucky talked about you and Steve really riled you up. You hollowed out your cheeks, looking up at Bucky with wide eyes as you waited for him. After a second you, pulled back and grinned.

“I let him fuck my face right here, Bucky. Do you wanna do that too?�� 

Bucky licked his lips and grinned right back, grabbing the side of your head ever so gently and guiding you right back down onto his cock. Then, he did exactly what he wanted. His hips thrusted up quickly, moving in and out of your mouth in record time. You gagged against him as he held you there briefly, then slowed down.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ come, doll,” he fell back against the couch as you took over once more, both hands alternating between massaging his balls and stroking up. You took him back into your mouth, sucking harder as Bucky’s moans grew louder. 

“So close, so fucking..” You pulled back and Bucky grabbed his cock with one hand, steadying your open mouth before him with the other. He growled as he came, hard. You stuck your tongue out, smiling wide as his climax washed over him, unloading onto your tongue and lips. You let it sit there in your mouth for a few extra seconds, keeping eye contact with Bucky as you swallowed it down.

He collapsed against the couch, eyes blown open wide. “Holy fucking shit. Stevie, the mouth on your girl..”

“You can address your compliments to her directly, Buck,” Steve laughed, standing from where he had been sitting in his chair and coming over to help you up. “You might have made his brain malfunction, sweetheart.”

You smiled proudly, meeting Steve’s lips for a kiss. You leaned against him again, tilting your head up to him. “Need you inside me, please?”

“Yeah?” Steve asked. His hand rested against the base of your neck, holding you flush against his chest. “And can Bucky watch?”

You couldn’t help but giggle and nod.

Bucky’s eyes opened slowly, as a smirk grew on his face too. He didn’t even bother cleaning himself up or pulling his pants into place again, simply leaning back and watching carefully as Steve led you over towards his desk. 

Steve took his time, kissing you quite generously as he peeled your dress up towards your waist. You felt him smile against your lips as his hands tugged on your underwear, sliding his fingers towards your center. Just as he had predicted, you had clearly really enjoyed yourself, as your soaked panties indicated.

“I’m gonna slide right in, baby,” he breathed against your neck, swirling his fingers around your clit. “Maybe next time, we do this at the same time. Do you want to try that? Bucky in your mouth while you’re full of me?” 

You groaned, twitching as Steve’s fingers sped up. It wasn’t long until your orgasm approached and soon enough you were quivering in Steve’s arms, ricocheting your way up and down the rollercoaster of senses as Steve turned and pressed you against his desk.

You laid down across it, on your stomach with your ass up in the air. You could feel Steve behind you, shoving your underwear to the side as he freed himself from his own pants. You gripped the edge of the desk as he entered you, slowly at first to make sure you were comfortable and ready. 

Across the room, you watched as Bucky was gripping his own cock, somehow hard again. Steve held onto your hips and thrusted steady, letting out his own series of grunts and moans as he fucked you.

Between your own moaning and Steve’s, you could barely hear Bucky across the room but he said your name out loud. You met his eyes as he was rubbing his shaft.

“You’re incredible, doll. Absolutely fucking incredible. And look at you, taking Steve so well. You like that, huh? Being so fucking full of him?”

With your own orgasm approaching, all you could do was cry out in agreement. Steve growled behind you, speeding up as he gripped your hips even tighter. 

“Look what you did to Bucky, baby,” Steve smacked his hand against your ass, holding you tight against him. “With just your mouth..” 

Bucky smirked, biting his lip as he watched you bounce against the desk. “Gonna let me feel that pussy next time?”

Your climax felt volcanic - a flurry of neurons firing off in your brain as you quivered, safely pressed against the desk as the weight of Steve covered you like a warm blanket. He came right after, growling in your ear as he spilled into you. Steve stayed in place after, as if unable to let go as he caught his breath. 

As you came back down to earth, Steve eventually stood, taking a moment to clean you up before coaxing you back into his desk chair. Yeah, you definitely needed a few more minutes. If you stood, you might fall down like a baby deer. 

You leaned back into the soft leather chair, eyes closed as you grinned. 

Steve kneeled before you, pressing a kiss to the side of your knee as he fixed your skirt. 

“Baby, you okay?” 

You opened your eyes and looked down. He was flush and seemed awfully content. You weren’t sure you had ever seen him smile like that before. 

You bit your lip, resisting your urge to scream with joy. You glanced from Steve over to Bucky. He was still sitting on the couch, though his pants were done up and buckled again. 

“I’m really good. Like, wow. Great. Amazing.”

Bucky laughed from his spot. “Doll, you’re amazing. I..” He sat up a bit straighter. “Best  sidecar I’ve ever had.”

You raised an eyebrow, looking back to Steve again. They were wearing matching grins. You didn’t want to ask. 

“I have worked up an appetite though..” You moved to stand. Steve got to his feet and offered his hand. “How do we feel about milkshakes?”

You collected yourself as Steve and Bucky strategized the best way to sneak out of the club and find a table at your favourite diner. 

There was a shift, though. When Bucky opened the car door for you, exchanging another smirk with Steve. Something in the air felt different.

Part 2 - The Penthouse

[crossbackpoke-check]

about to be sooo nosy so. my apologies. but. morgan frost? girlfriend? do share (or don’t! again this is so nosy i’m sorry)

for legal purposes i can neither confirm nor deny anything about morgan and his girlfriend but afaik i think he’s single right now? at one point (within the past four years 😭) he did for sure have a girlfriend and that is the extent of my wag knowledge

[nope-body]

.

[tumefaismal]

In the wilderness

You're my star

Wherever you are

[ivyues]

Laptop Delivery - Bang Chan

Practice got a little more eventful thanks to an forgotten laptop.

It was a peaceful morning. Fresh from your shower, you padded into your kitchen, planning to grab a quick breakfast before heading to uni. But something on the counter stopped you in your tracks – Chris' laptop.  

Your heart sank. He’d stayed over last night but had to leave early for dance practice. The sight of his laptop sitting on the counter screamed trouble. Normally, he wouldn’t bring it over – it was too precious, filled with tracks, demos, and other vital material for the group. You knew his schedule was packed, and forgetting something this important could only mean bad news.

You snapped a picture of it and sent it to him with the caption:

"Forgot something?"

Still, you couldn’t shake the thought that it might be much more important. Without hesitation, you called him, even though you knew he was at practice.  

After a few rings, he picked up, slightly breathless. "Hey, baby. I’m… kinda at practice right now – what’s up?"  

"Did you leave your laptop here on purpose?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.  

"What?" His voice was sharp with confusion. "No, I thought I— wait, let me check the picture you send me."  

A muffled curse followed as realization hit. "Oh shit, no. I’ve got a meeting with some producers right after practice. I can’t believe I left it there." His tone was laced with stress.  

Chris hesitated. "I—" he started, then stopped himself. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head. He was probably considering rushing back to your place after practice, which would make him late for the meeting. Worse, you wouldn’t even be there to open the door since you'd already be at uni by then.

"I… could… bring it to you," you offered cautiously, knowing what value the device had to the group.  

"Really? Would that be possible?" His voice softened, a mixture of relief and guilt.  

"Yeah, but I’d have to leave now. I still have uni today," you said, already moving to grab your things.  

"Ah, that's amazing. You're an angel," he said warmly. "I’ll text you the room number."  

Skipping breakfast, you grabbed his laptop and headed out. On the way, you planned to stop by a bakery for something quick after the delivery, before heading straight to class.  

-----

At the JYP building, you knocked lightly on the practice room door, despite Chris’ text saying you could walk right in. The door opened to reveal Felix, his face lighting up with a grin.  

"Hey!" he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug.  

"Hi, Lix," you replied with a small smile. From across the room, Chris’ head shot up, his eyes locking on you. Relief and affection softened his expression as he quickly made his way towards you.  

"Hey," he murmured, stopping just in front of you.  

"Hi," you replied, reaching into your bag to pull out his laptop. As soon as the sleek silver device emerged, the room fell silent.  

The members froze, eyes wide. It wasn’t just a laptop to them; they knew what was inside – tracks, demos, lyrics, everything. The fact that you were holding it was proof of something bigger: the trust Chris had in you.

But before anyone could speak, Chris gently pulled you into the room, his fingers brushing your cheeks as he softly pulled your mask down.  

And then, he kissed you.  

It was natural, familia – something the two of you had done countless times before. But here, in the quiet practice room, with – unbeknownst to you – all eyes on you, it felt different. His lips were warm and soft, a silent expression of gratitude and love.  

The members didn’t move, still processing what they were seeing. None of them had expected this. Sure, they knew how much Chris cared about you, but seeing it displayed so openly caught them off guard.  

When he finally pulled back, his ears burned red, and he muttered a sheepish "I’ll call you later, okay? Thanks again", as he took the laptop from your hands.  

You, cheeks blazing, barely managed a nod as you stepped back. The silence lingered for a beat longer before you mumbled, "Y-yeah. Bye, everyone."

You turned and left, closing the door behind you.  

The moment the door clicked shut, chaos erupted.  

"YAH, HYUNG!"  

"I can't believe you just did that!"

"PDA MUCH?!”

"Channie hyung, what was that?!"

"Wow, so smooth. Too bad your ears give you away."  

Outside, you heard the screaming teasing very clearly and couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks still burning as you walked down the hallway. Chris could handle the teasing – he brought it upon himself after all.  

masterlist

[5sospenguinqueen]

Hopelessly Devoted NOT To You | Charles Leclerc x Driver! Reader

Summary: Your family believes in two religions; Ferrari and Charles Leclerc. When you drive for a different F1 team, they make it known who their favourite is. Luckily, Charles’ favourite is you. 

Warnings: a happy functioning family (not sure how to write one of those), fluff, bad flirting

Requested: yes by anon

F1 Masterlist

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its_yn just posted

liked by alpinef1team, charles_leclerc and others

its_yn type of town i could spend a few days in 🌴

18,161 comments

pierregasly before you ask, i’m not helping you steal the hedge car

→ its_yn you never let me do anything fun

→ pierregasly @/alpinef1team can we leave her in miami?

→ alpinef1team only if you drive better than she does 

user1 she makes the alpine pink look so good! 

yourmum so excited to see you race, tesoro

yourdad will our paddock passes let us near the ferrari garage?

→ user2 love how this is her second year in f1 and her father is still a loyal tifoso

→ user3 her whole family are. don't think i've ever seen them wear alpine merch

landonorris the pink helmet makes you look like a highlighter

→ its_yn you can’t say anything, lorax

→ visacashapprb oh god, the girls are fighting 

→ user4 vcarb admin, you will always be famous

yoursister can’t believe i’m going to see a ferrari up close 

yourbrother do you think i’ll meet THE charles leclerc??

→ charles_leclerc if she brings you by the garage, absolutely

→ its_yn merda

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and others

charles_leclerc the city that keeps the roof blazin’ 🌴

16,330 comments

yourdad be good to see you on the podium this weekend, son

user5 not charles matching captions with yn. in his lover boy era

→ user6 i mean, it’s a popular song for miami?

→ user5 trust me, he did it on purpose 

scuderiaferrari our driver is cooler than all others

user7 anyone else in love with the fact that yn isn’t her family’s favourite driver

→ user8 and they make no effort to hide it

→ its_yn they actually told me off once because i overtook him, even tho it lead to my first podium

→ charles_leclerc part of me is inclined to agree with them but your overtake was very nice

→ user9 stand up, charles

yourbrother the aura is unmatched. why don’t you look this cool on race weekends @/its_yn?

user10 yn’s whole family being tifosi is so special to me

→ user11 they’re italian. ferrari and charles are their religion

yourmum my daughter is single if you’re interested? liked by charles_leclerc

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its_yn posted a new story

yoursister replied i worked really hard on that cake. show some respect → its_yn you only get props for it tasting good → yoursister i bet charles tastes good → its_yn that is my work colleague!  → yoursister bangeable work colleague → don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it

charles_leclerc replied i think red really suits you  → its_yn don’t you start. they’ve spent the entire night asking me when i’m going to join ferrari  → charles_leclerc isn’t your contract up this year? → its_yn are you trying to make my cry on my birthday?? → charles_leclerc no, no. i just mean, any team would be lucky to have you → i’d beg ferrari to take you if we hadn’t already signed lewis  → its_yn i might have to start begging someone to take me at this point → charles_leclerc you can have my car if you wear red more often → its_yn how about you just lend me a t-shirt sometime? → charles_leclerc if you come over, i have a whole wardrobe you can go through

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mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by valterribottas, kimi.antonelli and others

mercedesamgf1 we're so excited to announce that yn ln has joined the mercedes petronas family for 2025 on a multi year contract

44,634 comments

pierregasly i’m free!

→ its_yn you’re bald! 

yourdad tesoro, you are italian, not german. why are you doing this to the family?

yourbrother well done, sis. now grandma is crying. this is not what we agreed upon

yoursister i told you that mercedes green doesn’t suit your complexion. ferrari red does

user1 not yn’s entire family crying in the comments

user2 getting to the point where i don’t think they’re joking

→ yourbrother we did congratulate her privately. we just had to scribble out the ferrari on the banner

georgerussell63 i take it i won’t be invited to ln family dinners? 

→ landonorris only happens if your name is charles leclerc

user3 maybe ferrari didn’t want her?

→ charles_leclerc how dare you!

its_yn at least this way, @/charles_leclerc and i can continue our enemies to lovers arc

→ maxverstappen1 @/charles_leclerc was that loud scream from across the paddock you?

→ lewishamilton he can’t reply. he’s passed out on the garage floor. the mechanics are currently trying to revive him

→ user4 can’t blame him. yn finally acknowledged how obsessed he is with her

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton and others 

charles_leclerc my girl looks good in red 

27,876 comments

its_yn ❤️❤️

pierregasly you two sicken me

→ its_yn your hairline sickens me

→ pierregasly @/charles_leclerc dump her

→ charles_leclerc never

user5 charles is just showing men that if you act obsessed enough, it’ll work out

→ yourbrother i think him being unbelievably handsome had something to do with it

scuderiaferrari does this mean you’ll stop talking about her every weekend? 

→ charles_leclerc probably not

→ its_yn you might just see me in the garage more

→ yourdad and us! 

yourmum oh it’s happening! it’s finally happening. i’ll bring the wedding book with me next weekend

→ its_yn no! you promised never to show any one that

→ yourmum but now it’s not just my fantasy, it’s real

→ charles_leclerc yes, please. i’ll bring mine as well

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Requests open. Now accepting requests for Estie Bestie

Can you tell I'm on the side of twitter that jokes about Gasly having a turkey transplant for his hair?

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty @justaf1girl @piastri-fvx @teamnovalak

[kateschi]

two heroes, one marriage

synopsis: having stolen the hearts of fans with your teamwork and marraige, you and katsuki are called in for a joint interview.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

the magazine spread featuring you and katsuki as top pro heroes has the fanbase buzzing for weeks.

power couples aren’t uncommon, but the combination of your joint success and explosive chemistry—both literally and figuratively—makes you stand out.

when you both get asked to sit down for a joint interview, it’s hard to say no, especially when the public can’t seem to get enough of the dynamic between you and your husband.

sitting side by side on a plush sofa in the brightly lit studio, katsuki bristles with impatience, his jaw clenched as the interviewer introduces the segment.

it’s a familiar scene—his fiery personality on display for everyone to see—but you can feel the underlying tension, the way his body leans subtly closer to yours for grounding.

“so, the two of you are recognized as two of the top heroes of the year, and fans are really curious to know how you manage your lives as heroes and as a married couple,” the interviewer begins with a polite smile, clearly trying to ease into the conversation.

before you can respond, katsuki’s sharp voice cuts through the air.

“what the hell kinda question is that?” he snaps, eyes narrowing as he crosses his arms. “we do our damn jobs, and we go home. simple as that.”

you stifle a laugh, used to his bluntness by now. gently placing a hand on his arm, you intervene.

“what he means,” you say, casting a glance at katsuki that makes him grumble, “is that it’s about finding a rhythm. we both understand each other’s work, so we don’t get in each other’s way.”

katsuki grunts, his fiery gaze fixed on the interviewer. “she knows how to handle herself; doesn’t need me micromanaging her every move.”

despite his words, his hand finds its way to your lower back, fingers pressing into the fabric of your suit.

his touch is subtle, a quiet reassurance in the midst of his usual tough demeanor, but you know it means he’s keeping you close, watching out for you in his own way.

the interviewer picks up on the moment, nodding enthusiastically.

“it sounds like you both have a lot of trust in each other. how do you support one another with the high demands of your careers?”

katsuki clicks his tongue, clearly irritated. “support? we’re pros. we know what we’re doin’ out there.”

but just as you’re about to add something, he turns his head slightly to you, his voice dropping just enough for you to hear the change in tone.

“that doesn’t mean I won’t blow the ass off anyone who even thinks about messin’ with her,” he mutters.

you chuckle softly, nudging him with your elbow. “and here I thought I didn’t need you hovering around.”

“shut up,” he grumbles, but there’s no real bite in his tone.

his hand stays on your back, thumb brushing up and down in a way only you notice. “just ‘cause you’re strong doesn’t mean I’m not gonna make sure you’re alright.”

the interviewer, sensing an opportunity, leans in. “mister dynamight, you seem pretty protective of your wife. would you say that’s how you balance work and home life?”

katsuki’s eyes flash, his scowl deepening. “of course, I’m protective. you think I’d let her get caught up in any shit without me there to take care of it?”

his voice is sharp, but the way his arm shifts slightly to pull you closer is anything but harsh. “we don’t even need to talk about this crap.”

you smile to yourself, knowing this is as close to an open display of affection as katsuki will get in public.

his explosive personality never wavers, but there are cracks in his tough exterior that only you can see—moments where his concern for you bleeds through.

when the interviewer pushes on, asking about how your relationship works in the field, katsuki scoffs again.

“are you gonna keep asking this?” he snaps, before glancing at you, his hand tightening just slightly at your waist.

he sighs, trying to compose himself. “we work together ‘cause we’re a team, a hella good one at that.”

his little proud smirk makes your heart flutter. you decide to tease him a little. “oh, so you’re saying you can’t live without me on the battlefield, huh?”

his glare is immediate, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “don’t twist my words! I just—”

he cuts himself off, grumbling under his breath.

“you’re the one who keeps me in check, alright? so yeah, maybe i do rely on you. you’re my wife, and I am your husband. that’s natural! don’t make a big deal out of it.”

your husband huffs and looks away, which makes you giggle.

meanwhile, the interviewer chuckles nervously, clearly amused by the exchange. “it seems like you two have a really solid partnership.”

katsuki rolls his eyes. “damn right we do. we’ve got each other’s backs. that’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it’s gonna stay.”

as the interview wraps up, you feel katsuki’s hand slip from your waist, but his presence lingers, as solid and steady as ever.

once you’re off-camera and away from the prying eyes of the public, katsuki turns to you, his expression softening in that rare way that only you ever get to see.

“let’s get outta here,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “this interview crap’s a waste of time.”

you laugh, slipping your hand into his. “let's hope they don't cut you out like they did in highschool.”

“shut the hell up.” but despite his grumbling, he doesn’t let go of your hand, his grip tightening just slightly as you walk together out of the studio.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!!

Could I request like a really cute Remus x reader where she’s never been kissed or anything before? Like they’re all out of Hogwarts or in their last year and she’s the only one to have never had a relationship, and she’s kinda insecure and anxious about it all?

No worries if not or if you’ve already done something like this!

Thank you! - x

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: alcohol, reader is a bit tipsy

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You don’t often feel self-conscious about your lack of romance. When you’re walking home from a bar on a cold night, it’s true that sometimes you wish you had a hand to hold, or a jacket that wasn’t your own, or somebody to slip an arm around your waist and make sure you keep your footing, but generally you’d rather wait than settle. When your friends start moaning and groaning about being lovelorn, though…

“It’s just been so long,” Sirius laments. He’s three sheets to the wind and hanging heavily from James’ side, who’s nodding commiseratingly as they wind a zig-zagging course down the sidewalk. “I mean, two months, James. Two months.” 

“It’s been nearly two weeks for me,” James says glumly. “I don’t know how much more I can take.” 

“Lily will be back from her holiday in three days,” Remus reminds him. He can hold his alcohol better than any of you, and thusly he’s been tasked with carrying the things everyone worried they’d lose. The keys to your apartment are somewhere in his pocket, along with James’ wallet—confiscated after James left it lying on the bar for the second time—and a collection of Sirius’ rings which keeps growing each time Sirius becomes distressed about them somehow falling off. 

“Yeah.” Sirius looks up at James, glaring. “You’re only two weeks in, and you’ve got a lifetime of kisses ahead of you. I’ve got to take them where I can get them, ‘nd I haven’t had even one in two months!” 

“If you think two months is bad,” you say, “try going your whole life.” 

You mean for it to come out light and quippy, but there’s a vulnerability lining your words that you don’t mean to reveal. You wince, thinking everyone’s heard it. 

“Well,” Sirius says after a brief silence, “yes, that does sound worse. Thank you, dollface. You’ve made me feel a bit better.” 

You smile ruefully. “Happy to help.” 

James starts waxing poetic about the shape of Lily’s top lip, and Remus slows his stride, falling into step beside you. You glance over, and he’s giving you a soft look. 

You go sheepish. “Sorry.” 

“What? Why are you sorry?” 

“That was embarrassing.” James and Sirius are talking loudly enough that you don’t have to lower your voice much to avoid being overheard. “I don’t mean to complain.” 

“It wasn’t embarrassing,” Remus murmurs, tone a fond color. He bumps your shoulder gently. “Anyway, I don’t think either of them are likely to remember.” 

You give him a sideways smile. “Maybe, but there’s still you.” 

“I can forget, too, if it suits you.” 

“It does suit me, thanks.” 

“Right. I’ll get right on that, then. Consider it forgotten.” 

You smile down at the sidewalk. There’s something about Remus which always relaxes you. Maybe it’s that he’s so easy to talk to, or that he doesn’t make you feel like you have to talk. You just feel safe with him. You walk a ways in comfortable silence, close but not quite touching, listening to Sirius and James giggle like schoolchildren ahead of you. 

“Do you really feel that way?” Remus asks after a while. “Like it’s bad that you haven’t kissed anyone?” 

You wet your lips. Your saliva tastes like booze. “Sometimes,” you admit. “Like, it’s not as bad for me as it seems for Sirius. But I guess it also probably helps that I don’t know what I’m missing.” 

“Yeah,” he hums, seeming pensive. “That makes sense.” 

“I do wish I’d gotten it over with earlier, though.” 

You’re not sure where it comes from. You do wish that, sometimes, but it’s not the sort of thing you say aloud. Even with a friend as good as Remus, it’s humiliating to declare a want so intimate. 

He looks surprised. “You do?” 

“Yeah,” you say, voice a shade of itself. 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“It wasn’t…it wasn’t really a choice. I was never trying to wait, or anything.” You shrug, cheeks warm. “There was just never an opportunity.” 

Remus makes a sound somewhere between a hum and a laugh. “Oh, I don’t believe that.” 

You look up. “Why not?” 

With your attention off the sidewalk, you stumble slightly, the toe of your shoe catching on the uneven pavement. Remus slips an arm around your waist to help. 

“Careful,” he says, suddenly incomprehensibly close to you. “Watch your footing.” 

“Sorry.” You look back down. “Why not?” you ask again, softly. 

“I just don’t think it’s possible no one ever tried to kiss you.” Remus’ voice is quiet but genuine. Unabashed. “More likely people have tried and you haven’t noticed. Or you just haven’t been ready. That’s alright too, you know.” 

“I’m ready,” you say certainly. “I’ve been ready. It just…hasn’t happened yet.” 

He hums. “That’s alright. So long as you’re alright with it.” 

You’re quiet the rest of the way home. You live in the same building as the boys, only the floor below. James’ bedroom is right above yours. He’s not usually too terrible an upstairs neighbor, though you’re looking forward to hearing him stumbling around before bed tonight. 

Remus walks you to your door while James and Sirius wait in the stairwell, cackling and crawling their way up on their hands and knees. He unlocks your door and reaches inside to turn on the hall light. 

“Alright?” he asks as you step inside. 

You nod. 

“Okay. Drink water, and make sure to lock the door behind you.” He gives you a smile, eyes dark in the dim light of your building. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” you say back. But he hardly makes it a few steps away before you’re leaning out of the door, suddenly desperate. “Remus?” 

“Yeah?” He turns. And he’s so lovely, all softness and gentle features. You know he’s the right person to trust with this. 

You swallow. “I’ve been ready for a long time. And I don’t…I don’t know if I’m alright with it anymore.” 

Remus frowns, stepping closer. “It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with it.” 

“I just feel so behind.” Your tone is nearly pleading. “I’m tired of not knowing what I’m missing. I’m curious. I want to know what it’s like.” 

“Y/n.” Remus says your name like a remonstrance gentled. Like he feels sorry for you. “What are you asking me?” 

You worry your hands are shaking, but you steady yourself against the doorframe, making your voice solid. “I’d rather it be with someone I’m comfortable with. Someone I trust.” 

Remus moves closer to you. He’s nearly as close as before, when he’d held you up on the sidewalk. You wonder if this is how close people get before it happens. 

“You’re drunk,” he murmurs, not unkindly. 

You shake your head. “Not that drunk. Not so much I don’t know what I want.” 

He sighs. Says your name again as though to himself, with fondness and something else you can’t place. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” you say in a whisper. “I’d just feel a lot better if it was you.” 

“Oh, love.” He takes your face gently in his hands. The pads of his thumbs soothe over your cheeks. “That’s not it.” 

Your breath catches as Remus starts to lean towards you, your eyes fluttering closed. You stay perfectly still as his lips come to rest in the center of your forehead. 

It’s a tender kiss, not lingering but not overly brief. In the end, it’s so sweet you can’t even bring yourself to feel slighted. 

“Go to bed,” says Remus, pulling back with a sorry smile. “If you still want to talk about it in the morning, we will, yeah? It’s not that I don’t want to.” 

“Okay. I’ll…” Your whole face tingles as though you really have been kissed. You’re half tempted to touch your lips to see if they feel different. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’m sorry, Remus.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he begs, backing down the hallway, “please. Goodnight, y/n.” 

Your voice comes out a tad breathless. “Goodnight.”

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。yours, always yours

synopsis. satoru has always been yours—and he needs you to know you’ll also always be his

— word count. 2.4k (read the breakup fic first for better understanding, but can be read as a stand-alone)

— contents. fem! reader, college! au, rich boy! gojo, post-getting back together angst that gets a little heated <3, minors do not interact, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, satoru cumming too quick <3, creampie, tbh the smut is short and a lil rushed my b, it ends in fluff tho !! trust !! there is fluff !!

— notes. tbh this will probably get flagged rly fast but oh well u win some u lose some. anywayyyyy here is the make up sex bc yall nasties deserve it <3 jk love u guys

satoru falls first. and he falls hard. everyone knows it, it’s never been a secret.

“you want me to wash your hair?” you ask gently, kissing his shoulder as the water falls over his head. he hums, nodding absentmindedly as he stares blankly at the tiles of your shower wall.

“sure,” he mumbles, “don’t tug.”

“i never tug,” you roll your eyes, snorting. he huffs a small chuckle, but it’s not the usual laugh satoru gives you. it’s mechanic, almost—just there to fill the space. “baby?” you ask softly.

“yeah?” he asks, “oh, should i bend a little? sorry, i—”

“what’re you thinking about?” your hands cup his cheeks, gentle and warm from the hot water as it soaks his skin.

he shakes his head, trying to smile as he clears throat. “just how nice it is to be pampered. maybe i’ll let you break my heart every once in a while so i get my back scrubbed and hair washed like this.”

“satoru,” you insist. you know—and he knows it too. “tell me?”

“why’d you do it?” he mumbles, “why’d you listen to him?”

“toru, you know why,” you sigh, “you know i didn’t think there were any other options.”

“you could’ve talked to me,” he furrows his brows, “just because my stupid old man threatens you with my stupid inheritance doesn’t mean we have to break up.”

“i was afraid you’d choose me.” it comes out as a whisper, like a confession you can’t bear to admit.

“i would have chosen you,” he agrees, “why’s that bad? how’s that wrong—”

“you’re not thinking about the bigger picture,” you shake your head, “that company is yours. you’ve spent your whole life—”

“so what? was i supposed to give up the rest of my life for it too?” he asks tiredly—satoru’s defeated. he’s never been defeated, it’s the most magnetizing thing about him.

even before you date him. he asks and asks and asks no matter how many times you say no. because there’s always a chance you’ll say yes, and he’ll never stop as long as there’s a chance.

“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, lips wobbling, “i could have….i should have said something. i didn’t want you to make a choice young and then….and then regret it.”

“you think i’d regret you?” he’s wounded—absolutely wounded at the words.

satoru has always been careful, diligent and so, so meticulous to love you right, to love you how you need to be loved. hadn’t that proven enough? that he was in it for the long run—for forever? he’d been so sure you’d be his future, that the break up feels like waking up from a peaceful dream to a house fire—devastating, with smoke in his nose and lungs that he can’t breathe right, and everything gone within a moment before he can even register it.

he stares at the ashes in despair. nothing prepared him for the hollowness of not being yours—because satoru has never cared to make you his. all he’s ever wanted was to be yours.

you’re quick to remove him from everything, deleting pictures from your socials, untagging him from posts, removing him from your private stories and close friends list. he doesn’t understand how you could change your mind so quickly—and then he realizes you probably don’t. because he knows you—better than anyone ever has, satoru knows you.

so he’s comes to you, drenched from the rain, from standing outside your door even as the water pelts against his skin because he’s determined. he’s going to get an answer out of you, going to make you explain why you pulled him in so close, let him reside in your heart and fall asleep to the comforting rhythm of its beating—and then push him out like he’s nothing. what made you push him out?

and finally, when he does, when you let him be yours again and admit it’s never what you wanted, that it’s because it’s what his father wanted—well, satoru can’t keep his composure. don’t you know? hadn’t he always told you? hadn’t he poured his heart out and let you know every moment he’s always been stuck dangling from his father’s fingers? stuck somewhere between the sky and ground, too high to feel the floor under his feet but never high enough to feel the wind in his face.

you’ve always known, always listened—and fuck, you held him some nights too, let your fingers dip into his hair and soothe his sorrows of always being stuck.

satoru’s always been stuck, always had every choice made for him and every instruction carefully laid out on the table. and then you decided to make his choice for him too, walking away and choosing his future for him like he’s never had a say.

he’s always been stuck, but never with you—but now, he wonders if that’s changed.

“no,” you squeeze his cheeks, “no i don’t think you’d regret me….but satoru losing what you have is a big thing,” you mumble, “people work their whole lives not having a fraction of what you do. that’s a lot to let you lose.”

“i’ve never seen my dad kiss my mom,” he stares at you, hard and unwavering, his eyes stare into yours, “he’s never held her hand or made her laugh. and you know what she told me? that she would sell her share of everything to have what we do. why do you always look at me for what i have first?” he asks angrily, the water pouring over his shoulders as they shake, “why can’t you just look at me first for once?”

“i do look at you,” you insist, “toru, all i ever see is you—”

“then stop caring what he says,” he says louder, his voice echoing through the small bathroom of your small apartment.

everything about your home is small—smaller than satoru’s especially. but he loves it, thinks he’d rather be here than anywhere else.

because it’s yours. and as long as you’re here, the world fits into this tiny apartment, the galaxy too.

“okay,” you say shakily. and then you nod, looking him in the eye, “you’ll handle it?”

he nods, kissing between your brows, “yeah, i’ll handle it. who else is gonna take over that company anyway?”

“but what if he finds someone else? and then he—”

“he won’t. my grandpa will shred him.”

“but he’s old, and he stepped down, so what really can he do if your dad decides—”

“god, baby,” he groans, pushing your body against the wall gently, “i love your voice, but you talk so much. i’m wanna listen to something else.”

his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the skin, hand trailing to your tits before his thumb circles your nipple. it’s slow, deliberate, teasing as it rolls over the bud.

you whimper, clutching onto him as a breathy, “t-toru,” leaves your lips.

“yeah,” he nods, “that’s what i wanna listen to instead.” his lips are in a grin against your neck, kissing and biting until he reaches your collarbone. “anyone dm you after you took me out of your socials?” he asks bitterly.

“j-just one,” you admit through a stutter, “b-but i didn’t even open it! i wasn’t really—oh, toru,” you gasp as his finger finds your clit, spreading your legs as he lets out a soft growl at your words.

“what? just cause my face isn’t on your instagram suddenly you’re not mine?” he asks, thumb rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves—you close your eyes, moaning as your arms wrap tightly around his neck. “you’re always mine,” he murmurs against your ear, low and careful so you hear him well, “yeah? got that?”

“got it,” you nod furiously.

“got what?”

“‘m al-always—oh, fuck,” you mewl as one finger prods at your entrance, gathering your slick before slowly sliding through your walls.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he says firmly, “finish your sentences.”

“always yours, toru! always yours—please, please j-just…”

“just what?” he raises a brow.

“more,” you sob—it’s a broken plea as your hips thrust against his finger.

he’s quick to slide in a second, thrusting his digits mercilessly into your soaked cunt, his palm gliding over your clit as the slick sound of his fingers fucking you is almost drowned by the water in the back.

your water bill will be high this month. you decide it’s a sacrifice satoru deserves.

“you think someone could ever learn this body better than me? make you cum like i can? you think anyone will ever love you enough to learn you like i do?”

“n-no,” you pant, his fingers hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly, you feel that dull ache build up quickly. it’s good—everything with satoru is good. his other hand finds your chest to pinch a nipple, twisting and squeezing until your nails leave indents on his shoulders as you moan loudly. “no one—no one but you.”

“exactly,” he growls, “how could you leave me? how could you leave us?”

“‘m sorry,” you sniffle, whimpering when the tips of his fingers slam against that spongey spot of your walls, fluttering around him and squeezing him in. you’re close—so close that you almost don’t know what he’s saying anymore, too focused on the way your impending orgasm is approaching. fast. “i’m sorry, i’ll never—ever leave again.”

“say you love me,” he demands.

it sounds like he’s pleading, though, if you listen closely. there’s a small crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that makes you force your eyes open and stare at him and whisper, “i love you, satoru. i love you.”

and then he rips his fingers out—right before you’re about to cum. you gasp, pleading nonsense as you cling to him and buck your hips and search for something, anything to take you over the edge.

and then you hear a sniffle. is he crying? is that wet droplet on your shoulder a tear or the water? you’re too busy calming down from your orgasm dying before it ever came to focus.

satoru’s hard against your thigh, throbbing and painful to sink into you. he strokes himself a few times, whimpers as his thumb gathers the pre cum from the sensitive tip, smearing it along his length as he shakily lets out a quiet moan.

“f-fuck, i gotta feel you. please, can i? please—”

“yes,” you pull him closer, grinding your heat over his hard-on, “yes please, toru. more, need more.”

he’s sliding along your folds, dragging the tip of his cock along your entrance and smearing a mix of your arousal with his. and then slowly, ever so gently, he’s pushing into your after that, pushing past your walls and bullying into your soaked cunt, curving into you perfectly.

it’s only been a week—you feel like you haven’t felt him in years. but it’s familiar. you remember every part of him, including every vein that drags along your walls and makes your head spin. he remembers every part of you, including where that spot is that he needs to angle his hips to find.

he slams into you, hard and rough and fast—doesn’t even let you adjust your position to hold onto him tighter before he’s thrusting his hips and fucking into you desperately. you can feel him, every inch of his skin against you, every part of him that’s touching you. and you can feel the way his cock nudges past your folds, the friction burning pleasure through ever nerve.

satoru knows how to fuck you, just like he knows how to love you, he knows your body—every dip and ever curve, every place to touch and every part that has you gushing around him. it’s just the way he is, too good at giving you what you want, what you need.

when he moans, it’s breathy and he’s panting as he lets out those soft whimpers that make your head spin. “feel that? feel me?” he asks, grunting as you squeeze around his length.

“yeah,” you breathe, “‘m so full.”

“i need you. please, please,” he murmurs, “can’t lose you, baby. never you,” he chants, the quiver in his voice tearing you apart.

“i’m right here,” you gasp, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing his hand. he squeezes back, just to let you know he’s there too, “right here, baby. you got me.”

and then he cums, just as soon as you whisper that—he spills right into you with a broken cry, his hips rolling, needy and desperate and so, so lost on the pleasure. he’s too busy working himself through his high, trembling over your body to care he’s cum too quick—and you don’t have it in you to tease him. you can feel the hot ropes of cum filling you, painting your walls white, fucking deep into you as the blunt head of his cock slams into you without a second of hesitation.

but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter that brutal pace as his hips slam into you, perfectly kissing your sweet spot every time. and before long, you break—your head pushes back against the wall behind you, mouth parted as you wail his name and cum—hard. you’re quivering and spasming around his swollen cock, enough that he whimpers at the way you’re so tight.

it’s good, it’s always good. satoru makes you feel good. he’s the best you’ve ever had—the best you’ll ever find.

and then you hear it again, the sniffle into your neck as he clutches you tightly. you know for sure that wet droplet is a tear this time, and your fingers tangle into his hair as you stroke the wet strands.

“i love you, toru,” you murmur, “my sweet boy. i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry.”

“don’t do that again,” he huffs in between tears, “that was so mean. so mean.”

“i said i won’t,” you chuckle, fighting back your own tears, “how long are you gonna hold this against me?”

“how long do you plan on being mine?”

“well,” you pull him from your neck, cupping his cheeks as you wipe away tears and peck his lips softly, “i think….forever.”

“well, get ready, then,” he glares softly, “i’m gonna hold this against you forever too.”

“okay,” you nod, “that’s fair.”

“and i love you too,” he adds, “but block whoever dm’d you. it better not be that zenin boy.”

“block those girls who’s pictures you liked,” you shoot back, glaring at him with a pout of your own.

“don’t yell at me,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch as your thumb strokes his cheek, “i’ve had a rough week. you have to be nice.”

dabitee anon. are u seeing this. did u see the satoru who cums too fast. did u see it. report back if u saw this. i repeat, dabitee anon report back if you see this

[my-castles-crumbling]

amortentia - January 17 - black brothers - wolfstar - background jegulus - @black-brothers-microfic - word count: 468

“How did you know you were gay?”

Startled by the question, Regulus nearly lost his grip on his broom, and had to take a moment to collect himself before turning to his brother, who was flying next to him. “Pardon?” he asked, still shocked.

“I - how did you know you were gay?” Sirius repeated himself, still infuriatingly unclear.

"Well after about the fourth time kissing a bloke, I realized I didn't hate it," Regulus replied, completely deadpan.

But Sirius just sighed, not laughing at all.

It was at this point, Regulus decided they needed to have this conversation on the ground, so he flew to the stands and sat, Sirius following him. “What’s wrong, Sirius?” he asked, safely seated on the uncomfortable benches.

“I…we learned about Amortentia in potions today,” Sirius mumbled, staring out into the pitch.

Ah, the Love Potion. “And?” Regulus probed, pretty sure where this was going. Because anyone who had eyes could see how Sirius looked at a certain tall, slightly-clumsy werewolf.

“My Amortentia…it smelled like…” Sirius whispered, like he couldn’t fully say it.

“Amortentia can smell like platonic or familial love, too” Regulus reminded him comfortingly. “Amongst other more…confusing things, I can smell the Quidditch pitch and your hair potion in mine…” he offered, trying not to cringe at the vulnerability of the statement. 

“Yeah…but I don’t think it’s like that,” his older brother confessed, finally looking at Regulus with tears welling in his eyes. “I think I’m just a bit thick and I didn’t realize.”

“Well, you are that,” Regulus chuckled. “Sirius, you know liking Remus doesn’t make you gay, right? You could be bi, or pan, or…whatever.”

“Yeah. I just…it’s a lot,” Sirius sighed, turning away again. “Do you think he’ll hate me?”

Imagining the way Remus looked at Sirius, the equally-adoring stares and heart eyes, Regulus chuckled. “No. Pretty sure his Amortentia smells like your disgusting socks and stupidly expensive cologne. I’d bet money on it, actually.”

Sirius’s face turned red. “You think?” he asked hopefully, eyes wide.

“Remus is gayer than I am,” Regulus assured him. “And I’d bet my broom he’s especially gay for you.”

Looking unsure, Sirius nodded. “I…yeah, I just…okay. I…thank you.”

“Look at you, disappointing out parents again,” Regulus joked with a wry smile. “You keep outdoing yourself.”

At this, Sirius laughed. “It’s a talent,” he quipped.

Unsure of what else to say, Regulus murmured, “If you ever need to talk..”

“I know, get you drunk, and then get emotional,” the older boy grinned.

Regulus smirked. “Exactly. Now, where were we?”

But as they both stood to again take to the skies, Sirius turned. “I steal it from James, by the way. The hair potion. If you ever wanted to use it too, or whatever.”

And then he shot off, leaving Regulus completely stunned.

[rmview]

finding out you were a bet, ENHYPEN.

featuring — enhypen members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — a reaction of what happens when you find out that dating you was actually a bet they made but they caught the feels!

contents — angst, arguments, hurt.

hee ☁ seung

heeseung froze when he saw the look on your face — hurt, betrayal, disbelief. “you knew?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible.

“you lied to me,” you said, your voice trembling as you held back tears. “dating me was just a bet?”

heeseung’s head fell into his hands as he sank onto the edge of the couch. “at first, yes,” he admitted, his voice shaky and almost panicked. “but it wasn’t supposed to turn into… this.”

“into what?” you demanded, your eyes narrowing as the frustration bubbled over. “into me falling for you while you were laughing behind my back?”

“no!” he shouted, his voice loud enough to startle you. he stood abruptly, his face pale as he struggled to meet your eyes. “i swear it was never like that. it was stupid — immature. i didn’t think… i didn’t think i’d fall for you the way i did.”

you scoffed, crossing your arms as tears spilled over. “how am i supposed to believe anything you say now?”

he took a hesitant step closer, his hands raised as if to reach for you but stopping midway. “because i know i don’t deserve your trust, but i love you. that’s real. it’s the only thing i’m sure of,” he said, his voice shaking. “if you walk away right now, i won’t blame you, but please, don’t think for a second that what i feel for you isn’t real.”

jay ☁

“why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, your voice cold but laced with pain. “were you ever going to?”

jay’s jaw tightened as he leaned against the wall, staring at the floor. “i wanted to, but i didn’t know how,” he admitted, his tone subdued.

“right, because lying to me was easier,” you shot back, your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

jay finally looked up, his dark eyes filled with regret. “it wasn’t like that,” he said firmly. “at first, yeah, it was a bet. but i didn’t think it would turn into this. into me actually caring about you.”

“you cared so much you kept it a secret,” you said bitterly.

he pushed off the wall, closing the distance between you. “because i was scared of this,” he said, gesturing between you. “of losing you before i could show you how much you mean to me. i know it’s my fault and i messed up, but you’ve got to believe me when i say i’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

you hesitated, his words conflicting with your anger. “you broke my trust, jay,” you whispered.

“i know,” he said, his voice soft but unwavering. “and i’ll do whatever it takes to earn it back. just give me a chance to prove to you that i’m not the guy who made that stupid bet anymore.”

sung ☁ hoon

sunghoon’s face turned pale when you confronted him. “is it true?” you asked, your voice trembling. “was dating me just some kind of bet to you?”

he froze, his usually calm demeanor crumbling. “who told you that?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“so it’s true,” you said, the hurt in your eyes making his stomach twist.

“at first, yes,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. “but it wasn’t like that for long. i swear, everything i feel for you now… it’s real.”

you let out a bitter laugh, tears slipping down your cheeks. “how convenient for you. do you know how humiliating this is for me?”

“i know,” he said, his voice trembling as he took a step closer. “and i hate myself for it. for being so stupid, for not telling you sooner. but please, believe me when i say i never meant to hurt you.”

“how can i believe anything you say now?” you shot back.

he hesitated, his eyes pleading. “because i wouldn’t be standing here like this if i didn’t care about you,” he said, his voice breaking. “you mean everything to me. i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness, but i’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. just… don’t walk away from me.”

jake ☁

the moment jake saw the text on your phone, he knew the truth had come out. “you know,” he said, his voice hollow as he approached you.

you turned to face him, eyes blurring with tears. “how could you do this to me?”

jake’s chest tightened at the sight of your pain. he had never seen you cry. “it wasn’t supposed to go this far,” he said quickly, his voice desperate. “it was a dumb bet, and i was stupid to agree to it. but i swear, everything after that… it’s real. you have to believe me.”

“how can i?” you asked, your voice cracking as you almost felt nauseous from the news sinking in. “you lied to me from the start, jake. i thought you cared about me.”

“i do!” he exclaimed, stepping closer. his hands hovered near yours, but he didn’t dare touch you. “i care about you so much it scares me. that’s why i didn’t tell you — i didn’t know how to admit i’d messed up so badly.”

you shook your head, your eyes full of hurt. “i can’t even look at you right now.”

jake’s shoulders slumped, his voice trembling. “i don’t blame you,” he said softly. “but if there’s even the smallest part of you that feels the way i do, please… let me fix this. let me prove i’m not that guy that you think i am. i don’t want to lose you.”

su ☁ noo

sunoo knew something was wrong the moment you looked at him, your usual warmth replaced with cold distance. “what’s going on?” he asked nervously.

“i know,” you said bluntly, holding up your phone with a message that revealed everything. “dating me was just a bet to you.”

his breath hitched, and he immediately shook his head. “it’s not like that anymore,” he said quickly, his voice filled with panic.

“then what was it like?” you demanded, your voice breaking. “was it all just a joke to you?”

“no,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “it was never a joke, even in the beginning. i know i was wrong — so wrong — but i didn’t think it would turn into this. into me falling for you.”

you crossed your arms, tears welling in your eyes. “how am i supposed to believe that?”

sunoo’s own eyes filled with tears as he clasped his hands together, almost in prayer. “because i’ve never cared about anyone the way i care about you,” he said, his voice cracking. “you make me want to be better—to deserve you. please don’t give up on us because of my stupid mistake.”

jung ☁ won

jungwon could feel the tension radiating from you as soon as you walked in. “what’s wrong?” he asked cautiously.

you turned to him, holding your phone tightly. “were you ever going to tell me?”

his heart dropped. “tell you what?” he asked hesitantly, though he already knew.

“that this whole thing — us — was just a bet?” you said, your voice trembling with anger and pain.

jungwon’s lips parted, but no words came out. finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “it started that way,” he admitted, his voice low. “but it’s not like that anymore. i swear, i didn’t mean for it to happen, but… i fell for you.”

you scoffed, your arms crossed. “do you know how humiliating this is for me? how stupid i feel for trusting you?”

“i know,” he said, his voice filled with guilt. “and i hate myself for it every day. but please, don’t think for a second that my feelings for you aren’t real. they are.”

you shook your head, tears spilling over. “i don’t know if i can believe you.”

jungwon stepped closer, his expression desperate. “then let me show you,” he said softly. “give me a chance to prove to you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. i’ll do whatever it takes.”

ni ☁ ki

ni-ki’s eyes widened as soon as he heard your words. “it was a bet, wasn’t it?” you asked, your voice cold.

he froze, his usually playful demeanor gone. “who told you?” he asked, panic creeping into his voice.

“so it’s true,” you said, your voice cracking. “i can’t believe this.”

“it was stupid,” he blurted, stepping toward you. “i was stupid. i didn’t think it would matter at first, but then i got to know you, and everything changed.”

you shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “that doesn’t change the fact that you lied to me. that i was just a game to you.”

“you were never just a game,” he said urgently, his voice trembling. “i know i messed up — i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness. but you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like this, and i don’t want to lose you.”

you hesitated, your anger battling with the raw sincerity in his voice. “how am i supposed to trust you again?”

“i’ll earn it,” he said quickly, his hands clenching into fists. “i’ll spend the rest of my life earning it if i have to. just don’t leave. please.”

notes: first enhypen post <3 likes and reblogs are very much appreciated since i'm still a new writer :')

[kirbmey]

　 ྀི︶˚̣̣̣⠀⠀⠀vacations w bigbrother!caleb⠀⠀⠀˚̣̣̣︶ ྀི

synopsis: you’re having a summer dinner with your family and friends, but caleb gets angry at an old gossipy lady ( ｡ •` ⤙´• ｡)

tw: reader is implied to be smaller than caleb, reader is very feminine, dumbification, slurs like ‘whore’, possessive!caleb, stepcest, manipulation, dark romance, usage of ‘gege’ and ‘big brother’, slightly inspired by the movie ‘call me by your name’, caleb is kinda aggressive not towards reader tho, etc.

there was this tradition running in your family where you would move to your summer villa for the whole summer season, inviting some of your parents' friends over as well; needless to say, your step brother was also included in the plan.

you were always excited about these, being able to wear your a little too short summer dresses in front of your big brother without question to every dinner, adoring giving yourself a cute look for caleb to see, only wanting to be pretty for your big brother ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

this night was nothing different, you wore this pale pink sundress that left little to the imagination along with some other pink accessories, wearing the necklace he gifted you; you never took it off.

every night your housemaid would set up the long and old wooden table in the patio with refreshing food, all the people in the villa gathering to spend time together after their tiring activities in the beach. you sat in front of caleb as usual, feeling his warm palm rest in the fat of your thigh and caressing it with his thumb in circular motions.

he loved to stare at your angelic-like features while talking about whatever thing you were talking about with your aunt, sometimes forgetting that the rest of your family was there and that he had to keep appearances to any curious eyes.

“so, caleb?” he turns his head way too fast at his name being called, getting out of the trance he got caught on by staring at your red plump lips. “how are you doing with your studies?” a friend from your parents asks, he didn’t even know her name.

“mmh, well, all good. gotta study more than expected but she helps me with that, I have a hard time focusing, you know…” he answers with a boyish smile and tender voice, pinching your skin when pronouncing your name.

“yeah! gege is working really hard for this career, and i try to help him as much as i can” you voice an answer in a sweet tone, him knowing the reality of this said help.

“i see, you two seem really close, if i didn’t know you i’d think you ar—”, “well, that cuts it for tonight i’m afraid” your mother intervenes, knowing how annoying her friend gets regarding this topic. they even argued several times about how your relationship should be checked on since it looked very inappropriate from the outside, but she refused to listen, being a blind believer on your innocent sister-brother interactions, thinking caleb it’s just very clingy and protective about you.

a fierce blush creeps onto your cherub cheeks, feeling embarrassed at anyone questioning your relationship with your gege.

wasn’t it normal, having your big brother hold you for way too long, getting kissed on the lips before going to sleep or even helping you with the strange ache between your thighs when he rubbed himself against you to keep you warm at night?

he made sure to keep you away from anything or anyone vulgar, wanting to cherish your pure mind and thoughts for himself to slowly corrupt, carefully making you believe that good girls don’t go out with boys, don’t kiss anyone but their big brothers and reaching him to ask for help regarding any small issue a normal person could take care of themselves, but not you. you were too stupid ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

and just like that, he made you his little doll for him and him alone, emptying your silly head from anyone but him. you depended on him for anything.

your nipples got hard in the winter? don’t worry, he will slowly rub them while you sat on his lap with his cock buried deep inside you, just to keep you warm. whispering sweet nothings to you while leaving wet kisses along your neck, smiling to himself when listening to your adorable whimpers. he had to use every single trace of self control to not break your puffy pussy in two right there.

he actually never properly fucked you, just played with you like adults do (..◜ᴗ◝..) nothing wrong with that, right?

you wanted to help him focus on his homework? you knew how easily distracted your gege could get and you just wanted to help! (•ᴖ•｡) so he told you to get on your knees, making sure it was on top of some soft cushion, and commanded you to start pampering small kisses on his bulge. just like the ones you gave him all over the face when you were happy to see him ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

so you kept your hands on your lap like the good girl you were to approach his big bulge hiding under his grey sweatpants, leaving sweet little smoochies all over his prince's parts (as he called yours your princess’s parts), and leaving light traces of saliva on the way.

just a few minutes like that, completely focused on the task your gege gave you to please him as you always wanted, and he came undone fully clothed. you looked up at him trough your long lashes, surprised to see that creamy liquid stain his pants, the same one he made you lick from his fingers sometimes before (⁠ᗒ⩊ᗕ ྀི)

he can’t help but laugh fondly at your expression, caressing your cheek before slipping his thumb into your mouth, feeling how you wrapped your warm tongue against the pad of his finger.

now you were both heading to your shared bedroom, the inside of the villa specially silent since everybody else stayed outside, smoking and updating on the latest gossips while drinking the leftover wine.

caleb was mad, how dare that bitch even think about questioning you two? he knew what was best for you, he was your shiny armor knight, your big brother who would always protect you. what was wrong with that?

your tiny heels clicked trough the long and empty halls, chasing after caleb as your short legs could; he was stomping, and he was truly angry.

you never saw him so mad ever since he caught you watching some filthy porn a friend of yours sent you when you told her that you didn’t do that kind of thing since your brother told you to not to. needless to say, he made sure to beat her up real good so she wouldn’t get any close to you, ever. but you didn’t need to know what he did, he’s just protecting you! (づ_ど)

once you catch up with him inside said bedroom you pout, playing with the lacy hem of your dress as you close the door behind you. he sits down on the edge of the bed, holding his head between his hands as he takes deep breaths. he had to take care of that whore later, noted.

“gege? what’s wrong? did i do something bad?” you inquisitively ask, taking careful steps to stand before him, still playing around with your clothes in a nervous manner.

no answer from him, just a deep breath and a big pair of hands holding the back of your thighs to bring you closer, burying his face in the plush of your belly while featherly kissing it.

“no, doll, you did nothing wrong.” he blurs out against the soft fabric of your dress. “it’s just mom’s friend, she made me angry.” you feel his hands creep closer to your ass, holding yourself onto his broad shoulders.

you knew caleb didn’t like the questioning of your relationship, he liked to keep things private, a secret only for you two. your silly head couldn’t find an answer, what were you supposed to say when his skilled fingers removed your cottony panties down and he kept his pinkish gaze on you like that?

“you’re mine, pips, you know everything i do is for your own good.” you knew it, that old lady’s words meant nothing to you. “what would you do without me, hmm?”

you heard the side zipper of the dress and before you know it, you’re fully naked in front of him. it’s not the first time, but you can’t help feeling a little ashamed. he’s so perfect, tall and fit, and you don’t match his toned body.

you cross your arms in front of your breasts, hiding your blushing face underneath your hair, feeling his hand once again come up to your chin to lift it up while the other one holds your wrists a little bit too hard.

“don’t dare hiding from me, princess, you know i love the sight.” he confesses in a breath, restarting the trail of kisses from your soft belly down to your pubes, rubbing the tip of his nose against the little hairs.

you can’t help but whine, readjusting your hands on top of his head, caressing his soft dark locks trough your slim fingers. “gege, don’t do that, you know it feels achy.” you complain in a peachy voice.

he falls on blind ears, paying all of his attention to your princess’s parts, making you separate your legs by holding your inner thighs before lowering his head to clit level, smothering the growing bud with open-mouthed kisses.

he slowly toyed with your dripping entrance, circling the ring muscle with his index finger while paying attention to your pearl, lost in the sweet and sour flavor of yours. “fuck, doll, what do i have to do to make everyone understand that you’re my good girl, hmm?”

you don’t even listen to him, too caught up in the sensation of said finger caressing your velvety walls, throwing your head back while you pushed your hips closer to his face, letting out an adorable moan when feeling a second one peeking in.

“i see, you’re too stupid to answer that.” he said in a condescending way, fucking you with his long fingers slow but deep, even biting your clit at times. “don’t you see you need me to do everything for you?” one harsh thrust, reaching that gummy spot. “to tie your shoes, to wash your hair, even to dress you up in the morning?”

you were a moaning mess, your hair falling like a cascade at your back and sticking to your sweaty forehead, your toes curling at the way his skilled fingers toyed with your weak spot, feeling how he curved them inside you, that strange sensation knotting in your belly. “gege, i feel weird again, stop, stop” the tears in the corner of your eyes fall away to your neck.

“let go f’me, angel, you know your big brother likes it.” and he loved it, the taste of your juices, sweet enough to be addictive. before you realize you were creaming his fingers, feeling a strong arm wrap around your waist to keep you from falling. “good girl, you did so good for me”.

his murmurs fall quiet when he laps at your pussy to take every single drop of you in his mouth, moaning at the taste. your head falls on top of his, trying to catch your breath while he wraps you with both arms and lifts you up, heading to the bathroom to clean you up.

he first washed your sweaty body and clothed you with one of his huge t shirts, you falling asleep mid-bath and him taking you to bed carefully, making sure you were comfortable before taking care of his hard dick and rubbing himself against your discarded panties, staining them with cum not many minutes later (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

he threw them inside one of his designated drawers and hugged your smaller frame into his naked chest, drifting to sleep.

your big brother loved you so so much!

a/n: let me know if you liked it, i want feedback! also, idk if this was too long, i got carried away hehe (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

— masterlist.

[theonottsbxtch]

EL COQUETO | FC43

an: welcome back as we write about my n.1 pookie, i've got some more works planned for him BUT i've just gotten to france so imma be very busy rip, based off of this request

summary: when franco catches feelings for a journalist who is persuaded he doesn't really want her.

wc: 7.6k

The paddock was alive with energy, buzzing with the hum of engines and the chatter of the press as they swarmed around the new driver. She watched him move through the crowd with ease, a slight swagger in his step and a dazzling smile that had already made him the focus of every camera. He was the story of the weekend: Franco Colapinto, the unexpected mid-season replacement, here to shake up the grid with his flashy driving style—and, evidently, his unapologetic charm.

He caught sight of her, raised an eyebrow in recognition, and made a beeline toward her with the confidence of someone who knew he’d be welcome, even if he hadn’t been invited.

“Hola,” he greeted, his voice carrying a thick, rolling Spanish accent that seemed to coat every word in warmth. “You must be my next question of the day. They warned me about the best journalist here—of course, I was told to behave.”

She gave him a practised smile, cool but polite. “Franco, welcome to the team. How are you feeling about joining mid-season?”

His eyes sparkled, unfazed by the businesslike tone. “How am I feeling?” He leaned in just slightly, as though sharing a secret. “Well, right now, very lucky. They said I’d get tough questions, but they didn’t say the interviewer would be… distracting.”

She fought the urge to look away, just barely managing to keep her composure. “So you feel ready for the pressure, then?” she asked, refocusing, though the tiniest hint of a blush warmed her cheeks.

“For the track? Yes, I am prepared to race anyone.” He paused, letting his gaze linger on her a beat too long. “For the interviews? That remains to be seen. Perhaps you can teach me how to handle that part, sí?”

She could sense her colleagues nearby, some watching with open amusement as they caught his flirtatious energy. Franco was as smooth as they came, that much was certain. But she wouldn’t be the one to crack first.

“I’m sure you’ll learn quickly,” she said, tilting her head, her voice steady, though her heart raced. “Now, back to the race. What are your goals for this weekend?”

His grin broadened, but he played along. “Goals for the weekend,” he echoed thoughtfully, shifting back into the question. “Win a few hearts, break a few records—no particular order.” He winked, and she felt a laugh bubble up before she stifled it, opting instead for a brisk nod.

“Right. Well, I hope you’re ready for the competition,” she managed.

He shrugged, eyes glinting with mischief. “With you here, qué competencia?”

She gave him a pointed look, resisting the smile tugging at her lips. “You know, charm doesn’t score you points on the track.”

“Ah, no?” He tilted his head, feigning surprise. “Then I suppose I’ll have to win the hard way.”

Just then, a flash of cameras went off around them, the media eating up every angle of Franco’s arrival. He seemed entirely unfazed, even performing slightly for the flashes. The crowd around them surged with questions about his plans, about what his first practice would look like, about his last season in Formula 2. But Franco’s attention was still locked on her, and he hadn’t missed a beat.

“So,” he said, with that soft smile of his, “do you think I’ll be able to charm Formula One, or will they be immune to my Argentian ways?”

She gave him a dry smile. “You might have your work cut out for you. It’s not a stroll through Argentina, after all.”

He laughed at that, clearly enjoying her wit. “You’re tough,” he said, a touch of admiration sneaking into his voice. “I can see why you’re the best.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Flattery won’t distract me from the questions, Franco.”

“No? Not even if I try very, very hard?” he asked, drawing out the words with a grin. It was ridiculous, really—the way he leaned into every word, the way he seemed to shine in the spotlight. But there was something endearing about it too, something that felt… unexpectedly genuine.

“Not even then,” she replied, her tone light but steady. “Let’s talk strategy. What’s your focus for your first race?”

He sighed, shifting slightly but keeping that glint in his eye. “Fine, I’ll behave,” he said with a sigh, straightening up to answer. “My focus is simple: get the car under me, push it to its limits, and aim for a strong finish. Maybe even a few surprise overtakes. I’ve been itching to get back on the track.”

It was the most serious answer he’d given yet, and she noted the shift in his voice—a hint of intensity breaking through the smooth, easy charm.

“And your teammate?” she pressed, sensing she’d found the thread to pull him out of his flirtatious veneer. “Are you prepared for the rivalry?”

Franco’s expression turned thoughtful for a moment, a flicker of something sharper in his eyes. “My teammate…” He paused, glancing away briefly before meeting her gaze again. “He’s William’s best. I’ll learn from him, give him the respect he deserves. But I didn’t come here to play second.”

She watched as someone next to her scribbled down his answer, though her mind wandered slightly, wondering at the complexity beneath his charm.

“Good to hear,” she said, offering a small nod. “We’ll all be watching to see if you live up to that confidence.”

“I live up to my promises,” he replied smoothly. Then he leaned in one last time, lowering his voice just for her. “One of them being to get at least one smile from you by the end of the weekend. I’ll start with that goal.”

Before she could reply, he gave a casual wave to the crowd, moving on to the next journalist as though he hadn’t just made her heart skip a beat with his easy, disarming confidence. She watched him go, flustered despite herself.

One thing was certain: Franco Colapinto was going to be a story.

When the time came, the race had barely begun, but her eyes were already glued to the screen, following the sleek white-and-blue car with Franco’s number emblazoned on the front. Despite her best efforts to stay neutral, to approach this like any other weekend, there was something magnetic about watching him. Franco Colapinto, the audacious rookie, who’d barely spent a week with the team and had taken to the grid without a single day of training in an F1 car.

From the start, it was clear he was playing it differently. He didn’t charge forward recklessly like other rookies might have, eager to prove themselves. Instead, Franco took a few cautious laps, feeling out the car, testing its responses. She noticed how his style evolved lap by lap, each one more aggressive, his moves sharper. He was adapting, learning the car right there in the thick of the race.

As the race progressed, he began to gain ground. Corner after corner, he squeezed every ounce of performance from his machine, edging closer to the pack with each lap. By mid-race, he was overtaking the backmarkers, slipping past seasoned drivers who had years on him, and the commentators were buzzing.

She caught herself smiling, feeling a strange, almost foolish pride as she watched. The memory of his easy, arrogant grin flashed in her mind, his voice low and teasing: “Do you think I’ll charm Formula One?” She’d laughed it off, but he had something special, didn’t he? That hunger for the track, the sheer nerve to go head-to-head with anyone in his way.

Then, as if her thoughts had summoned trouble, the camera cut to his car—a close-up on his visor as he fought for P12. Her heart caught as he made a daring move, threading his car through a razor-thin gap into the next turn. It was reckless, and yet somehow—somehow—he made it stick.

“P12!” The radio crackled through his team radio, their voice as surprised as she felt. For a rookie with zero F1 experience, it was practically a victory.

She exhaled, releasing a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. The chequered flag fell, and Franco’s car slowed down, his voice breaking through the team radio with a triumphant laugh, half-sighing, half-cheering in disbelief at his own result.

When she saw him back in the paddock, she managed to slip past the swarm of journalists waiting to pounce, positioning herself where he’d inevitably cross her path. She didn’t want to admit how much she wanted to hear his version of the race firsthand, to see if the adrenaline still sparkled in his eyes the way it had behind the visor.

When he finally caught sight of her, his face lit up. “Ah, my toughest questioner returns,” he said, the grin wide as he raked a hand through his hair, still tousled from the helmet. “So? Impressed?”

She raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her expression composed. “Not bad for a first race,” she said, voice calm but betraying the slightest hint of a smile. “Though I have to say, you took some pretty risky moves out there.”

Franco laughed, that low, familiar chuckle that could disarm anyone. “You sound like my engineer. But I had to make it interesting, didn’t I?” His gaze softened slightly, the playfulness ebbing for a moment. “I did better than you expected, maybe?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, leaning in just a bit. “I wouldn’t let it go to your head, though.”

He feigned a wince. “Ah, so I’ll have to work harder to impress you, then.”

With that, she couldn’t hold back the smile any longer. “Perhaps,” she said, voice softer. “But you’ve made a start.”

She followed the rest of the press corps into the media pen, her notebook in hand, watching as Franco slipped into his role with practised ease. The other drivers, still catching their breath, answered questions in measured tones, clearly exhausted. But Franco was… well, Franco. He leaned back against the barrier, relaxed, a half-smile playing on his lips as he answered questions, some about his lack of training, others about his shockingly high finish.

She hung back at first, observing him as he effortlessly charmed each journalist in turn, flashing that disarming grin and making even the toughest questions seem like casual conversation. But when his eyes caught hers across the small crowd, he subtly waved her forward, his grin widening.

“Ah, finally,” he said, his tone playful as she approached. “I was starting to think you were hiding from me.” The other journalists shot her curious glances, some smirking at Franco’s obvious interest.

She managed to keep her expression neutral, clearing her throat and lifting her voice to a professional tone. “Franco, congratulations on P12. Quite a debut.”

“Gracias, cariño,” he replied, eyes sparkling. “For a moment, I thought you didn’t think I could do it.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly take the most traditional route,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You had us all on the edge of our seats with those overtakes.”

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice to just above a murmur, his gaze fixed on hers. “I thought about what you said. ‘Charm doesn’t score points.’ So I had to give you something else to smile about.”

She could feel her cheeks warm under his steady gaze, and she fought to keep her expression cool. “Don’t flatter yourself, Franco. I’m just here to report the facts.”

“Hmm,” he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, though a playful smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, the fact is, I went from P20 to P12 on my first day. But somehow, I think I still haven’t impressed the person who matters most.”

“The person who—?” She trailed off, exasperated. “Franco, you were the story today.”

“Was I?” he asked, the innocent tone entirely ruined by the mischief in his eyes. “Because if I’m the story, you’re the reason it’s a good one.”

Before she could protest, he glanced over her shoulder at the next journalist, nodding politely. Then, in a flash, he was back to her, clearly undeterred. “When can we continue our interview?”

She forced herself to keep her composure. “I think you’ve given me more than enough material for one day.”

“A pity.” He shook his head, though his grin was unmistakable. “Then maybe next time, you’ll be a little more impressed.”

She watched him walk away, shoulders loose and steps casual as he moved from one group of reporters to the next, answering their questions with the same easy confidence he’d shown with her. She could still feel the heat of his gaze, the lingering effect of his words making her pulse quicken.

“Wow.” The journalist next to her, a seasoned reporter with a wry smile, gave her a knowing look. “You okay there? He has that effect, doesn’t he?”

She blinked, quickly snapping out of her daze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. “I—yeah, I don’t know what’s going on,” she muttered, shaking her head, trying to compose herself. But she could still hear his words ringing in her ears, his playful teasing, the warmth in his gaze. “The person who matters most.”

“Oh, I think I do.” The other journalist smirked, nodding in Franco’s direction as he laughed and clapped a fellow driver on the shoulder. “It seems Franco over here has a slight crush.”

She scoffed, though it came out more flustered than she’d intended. “Franco has a crush on every woman he talks to. It’s his… thing since he got here.”

The journalist raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Maybe so, but I’ve watched him all day and that was different.”

Her colleague’s words only made her cheeks grow warmer. Was it that obvious? She was used to managing tough interviews, unflappable under pressure, and here she was, thrown off by a driver who hadn’t even been in Formula 1 for a full week. But somehow, Franco’s charm wasn’t just some casual game to him; it felt more… intense. And he’d directed every bit of that intensity straight at her.

The journalist chuckled. “Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the attention—it’s not every day a rookie looks at you like you’re the finish line.”

She glanced away, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. She didn’t want to admit it, not to her colleague, and definitely not to herself, but there was something in the way he’d looked at her, like she was more than just another journalist, more than just one of the many people crowding his spotlight.

“Well, let’s hope he stays focused on the real finish line,” she replied, aiming for a casual tone that didn’t quite land. But she couldn’t deny it—Franco Colapinto was becoming more than just the story of the weekend. He was starting to feel like her story, too.

Later that evening, she sat in her hotel room, trying to unwind from the chaos of race day. The lights of the city glimmered outside her window, but her mind was still caught on Franco—his effortless charm, that maddening smirk, the way he’d singled her out, even with half the media pen watching. It was absurd, really. She’d covered far bigger stories, spoken with veteran champions, and yet one rookie had managed to leave her feeling more flustered than she’d care to admit.

With a sigh, she scrolled through her phone, halfheartedly catching up on messages, until a notification popped up that made her heart skip.

Francolpainto has sent you a message.

She hesitated, a mix of curiosity and nerves swirling in her stomach as she opened it. The message was simple, casual—like he hadn’t already spent the whole day keeping her off balance.

Franco: Hola! Are you at the hotel?

Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed a quick reply.

Her: Yes, I am.

The response came almost immediately.

Franco: Perfect! I’m downstairs in the lounge. Come have dinner with me?

She stared at the screen, her mind racing. It was tempting—she’d be lying to herself if she said it wasn’t. But she knew his type all too well, didn’t she? The charming new driver who flirted with every journalist, every fan, anyone who would listen. She could already imagine him saying the exact same things to another reporter tomorrow.

No, she couldn’t let herself get pulled in. Not by someone who was probably just looking for a bit of attention.

Her: Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. Long day.

She set the phone down, hoping that would be the end of it, but a new message came through almost instantly.

Franco: Too bad. I was hoping I’d finally get a smile out of you without a hundred cameras around.

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t deny the small flutter his words sent through her. He was persistent, that was for sure.

Her: You’re very determined, Franco. But I have to ask—do you make this invitation to all the journalists?

A pause, just a few seconds longer than his usual quick responses. Then, his reply appeared, simple and direct.

Franco: No, just the one who keeps me on my toes.

Her: Pity, this one isn’t intrested.

She set her phone down after typing that, ignoring the little thrill that shot through her when he messaged her again almost immediately. Franco’s charm was undeniably effective, but she wasn’t about to let herself become just another name on his roster of admirers. He’d have to do a lot more than offer a casual dinner invite if he wanted her attention.

Franco: Really? You’re going to turn me down just like that?

She smirked at the screen. Of course he wasn’t used to hearing “no.”

Her: Really. I’ve seen you in action today, Franco. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to keep you company.

A longer pause this time, as if her words had taken him off-guard. When he replied, his tone was more thoughtful.

Franco: That’s not what I meant. Today was… different. I don’t want to go to dinner with just anyone. I want to go with you.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay firm. She typed a quick reply, keeping it casual.

Her: Nice try. But I’ve seen the way you charm everyone you talk to. You’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want me to believe that.

A few minutes passed, and she wondered if maybe he’d let it go. But just as she was about to put her phone down, another message appeared.

Franco: Okay. Fair enough. How about this: tomorrow, after practice, let me show you what a real date looks like. No crowds, no cameras. Just you and me.

She hesitated, feeling the pull of curiosity mingled with doubt. She knew he could be as persistent as he was charming, and there was something intriguing about his willingness to push past her refusal.

Her: Why should I believe this isn’t just a game to you?

His response came quickly this time, almost earnest.

Franco: Because no one else makes me want to try this hard. I’m not playing around here, cariño. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.

She smiled, a little thrill rushing through her. For the first time, he seemed genuinely off-balance, unsure, and she couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Her: We’ll see if you mean that. Good luck tomorrow, Franco.

Franco: Gracias. And just so you know… I’m not giving up that easily.

The following week, she found herself in the bustling paddock of the Baku, her eyes catching sight of Franco’s car parked in the paddock. She had to admit, he’d stayed true to his word since their last exchange, staying out of her messages—though his lingering glances and smiles across the paddock hadn’t exactly disappeared. If anything, he seemed more determined, more focused. It was all part of his act, she reminded herself. And yet, there was something undeniably thrilling about it.

She was busy gathering notes when she felt a familiar presence beside her. Franco had sidled up, hands tucked into the pockets of his team jacket, his easygoing grin making her pulse quicken in spite of herself.

“Back to cheer me on, sí?” he asked, eyes bright with that familiar mischief.

She held back a smile, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “I’m here to cover the race, Franco. Your cheering section is back there.” She nodded to the growing crowd of fans waving his name on signs with Argentinan flags just a few metres away.

He laughed, the sound warm and rich. “They’re great, sure, but I was looking for one particular fan. The one who told me I’d have to work harder if I wanted to impress her.”

She raised an eyebrow, stepping out of earshot of the nearest camera. “Oh, you remember that, do you?”

“Every word,” he said, his gaze steady. “I thought about it all week.”

A small thrill ran through her, though she kept her voice steady and her tone cool. “Well, if you’re serious, you’ll have to do better than last week’s P12. Otherwise, it just looks like more talk.”

His expression shifted, his easy grin giving way to a flash of determination. “If it’s a higher position you want,” he said, leaning in just slightly, “then I’ll get it. Just keep watching.”

She crossed her arms, fighting the smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll be watching, Colapinto. Don’t disappoint me.”

He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes flickering with something that felt genuine, earnest. “I don’t plan to,” he murmured, stepping back with a wink before heading toward his car.

As he disappeared into the garage, her heart raced. Franco Colapinto, the rookie charmer, was setting out to prove himself to her. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was looking forward to seeing if he could keep his promise.

She sat in the media centre, eyes locked on the screen as the race unfolded. Franco’s car was easy to spot, weaving its way through the pack with a precision she hadn’t expected. He was starting further up this time, P18, but it was still a long shot to even think he’d break into the top ten. Yet as the laps ticked by, he held his ground, pushing, clawing his way forward with a tenacity that had everyone watching in awe.

“Impressive for a rookie,” she overheard another journalist mutter, and she felt a strange pang of pride.

Halfway through the race, Franco made a daring overtake, squeezing past two midfield drivers into P10. She sat forward, barely breathing. He wasn’t just hanging on—he was gaining, going after every single opportunity on the track with a fierceness she hadn’t seen before.

He’d promised her he’d finish higher than last week, and she’d thought it was just talk, maybe a little playful charm. But here he was, proving her wrong lap by lap.

By the time he made it to P9, she was leaning forward in her seat, clutching her notebook tightly. And then, with a bold move on the final few laps, he passed another driver, slipping into P8. Her heart raced as she watched him hold his ground, fending off the competition, determined to keep the position he’d fought so hard for. The chequered flag dropped, and Franco crossed the line in P8.

She exhaled, a rush of surprise and admiration flooding through her. She’d known he was talented, of course—he wouldn’t have made it this far otherwise. But this? Climbing ten positions in a single race, all for a chance to prove himself to her? It was more than she’d expected.

As the race ended, she moved through the paddock, her mind whirling. Franco Colapinto, the charming rookie who flirted with everyone, had just delivered one of the most impressive drives of the day. For her. And she wasn’t sure if she was more impressed with his skill or his determination to keep his word.

She barely had a chance to catch her breath before she was back in the paddock, microphone in hand, ready to take on the post-race interviews. As she waited for Franco, she replayed his climb through the ranks in her mind—his nerve, his timing, the way he’d handled himself on the track. It wasn’t just impressive; it was astonishing. And as much as she tried to shake it off, she couldn’t ignore the small thrill that ran through her at the thought that he’d done it, in part, for her.

Finally, Franco appeared, still in his race suit his face glistening with the sheen of hard work. There was a slight glimmer of triumph in his eyes as he spotted her, a grin spreading across his face. He walked over, ignoring the other cameras and reporters, his gaze focused squarely on her.

She raised her microphone, keeping her expression as neutral as she could. “Franco Colapinto, P8—your second race in Formula 1, and already a massive improvement from last week. Can you walk us through it?”

He took a quick breath, then leaned in, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Well, you know, someone told me I had to get higher than P12 if I wanted to impress them,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady on hers. “So I did it for them. Great motivation.”

Heat crept up her neck, and she forced herself to stay focused. She could feel the eyes of the other journalists and team members on them, her colleagues probably smirking at his obvious attempt to fluster her, but she managed to hold her ground.

“Impressive,” she said, keeping her voice level. “And this ‘motivation’—I assume it’s the same one who’s kept you on your toes all week?”

Franco’s grin grew wider, unabashed. “Absolutely. Turns out, when someone challenges me, I take it seriously.” He shifted his stance, his gaze softening just a fraction. “And if they ask, I’ll do it again.”

A few people around them chuckled, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. This wasn’t the usual post-race banter, and he didn’t seem interested in giving anyone the typical driver answers. He was speaking to her as if they were alone, and for a brief moment, she almost forgot the cameras.

“Well, whatever you’re doing,” she replied, finally letting a small smile slip, “it seems to be working. P8 is no small feat.”

He tilted his head, as if studying her. “Then maybe next week, you’ll set the bar even higher for me?” His voice was low, just enough for her to hear.

She felt her resolve waver slightly, but managed to maintain her professionalism. “We’ll see, Colapinto. For now, let’s just focus on how you plan to keep this up.”

He chuckled, shifting his grip on his helmet. “Oh, I think I have all the motivation I need right here.” With one last grin and a wink, he turned to greet the other journalists, leaving her to process what was easily the most disarming post-race interview she’d ever conducted.

Later that night, she was back in her hotel room, unwinding with a cup of tea, trying to shake off the lingering thrill of Franco’s performance—and his audacity in the post-race interview. She still couldn’t believe how he’d shamelessly directed half of his answers at her, leaving her just as off-balance as he had on the track. But as much as she tried to dismiss it, her thoughts kept circling back to his determination, his promise that he’d push harder just because she’d challenged him.

Her phone buzzed with a message, and she glanced down to see it was from the William’s Instagram Account.

Team Rep: Hey, what’s your room number?

She frowned for a moment, surprised by the casualness of the message. But teams occasionally followed up with journalists for clarifications or comments, especially after high-profile performances like Franco’s. Assuming they needed to drop off some post-race press notes or team statements, she quickly typed back her room number.

Her: Room 914.

Team Rep: Perfect. Thanks.

Not even a minute later, she heard a quiet knock on her door. She glanced at the time, wondering if the team rep had come by himself. But when she opened the door, the hallway was empty. Instead, resting on the floor in front of her was a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers—vibrant, unruly, and charmingly imperfect, wrapped with a small card slipped between the stems.

Her pulse quickened. She didn’t have to check the note to know exactly who had left them.

Still, curiosity got the best of her, and she crouched down, carefully lifting the bouquet to pull the card free.

“To my motivation: thank you for the push. Let’s raise the stakes again soon. — F.

A soft, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. She felt the warmth creeping up her cheeks, aware that Franco Colapinto had managed to surprise her again. It was a move so bold, so unexpected—and, somehow, more genuine than any casual dinner invitation could have been.

She sighed, shaking her head but unable to fight the smile any longer. As she placed the flowers on the table, their vibrant petals catching the soft light, she couldn’t help but wonder what Franco would pull next to prove himself. Because one thing was certain: he wasn’t giving up. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want him to.

She couldn’t resist. Picking up her phone, she sent a quick message, keeping it light, casual.

Her: Cute.

It didn’t take long for his response to pop up.

Franco: Oh? You find me cute?

She rolled her eyes, though her heart skipped a beat as she typed back.

Her: No, the flowers were a cute move.

A beat passed, and then came his reply, playful but edged with a hint of something more.

Franco: Well, then… would you let the guy behind the cute move take you out for dinner?

She hesitated, fingers hovering over her phone. She knew what this looked like—a line blurred between work and something personal, maybe too personal. And for him, a rookie who’d just broken into the sport, one misstep could easily become a distraction he couldn’t afford. It wasn’t just her reputation, but his too, and the stakes felt higher than either of them probably realised.

Her: I don’t know, Franco. There’s too much on the line.

A pause, longer than his usual quick responses, and for a moment she thought maybe he’d let it go. Then his reply came through, brief and simple.

Franco: Okay.

She stared at the word, an unexpected pang of disappointment catching her off guard. Franco, usually so persistent, so bold, had accepted her hesitation without a fight. But as much as she wanted to push away her own reservations, she knew she was right. Still, the thought of him backing off now left her feeling… unbalanced.

Setting the phone down, she let out a sigh, glancing over at the flowers resting on her table. A small part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, she’d made the wrong choice.

Four weeks later, they were back at the track, Austin, the usual energy humming through the paddock as teams and drivers prepared for the weekend ahead. She found herself scanning the garages, a little spark of nerves in her chest that had nothing to do with work. Franco had kept his distance over the past few weeks—well, as much distance as someone like him could manage. He was still his playful, charismatic self with the press, charming everyone in sight, but there was something different. He hadn’t followed up on his dinner invitation, hadn’t tried to push beyond her boundaries. She told herself it was for the best. Still, a small part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been too cautious.

Just then, she spotted him near the team’s garage, leaning against the wall in his race suit around his hips, deep in conversation with one of his engineers. When he looked up and saw her, his face lit up, a grin breaking across his face as if no time had passed. She felt a little of that old thrill in her chest as he walked over.

“Hola, stranger,” he greeted, hands tucked into his pockets of his team jacket, his voice as warm and casual as ever. “Miss me?”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “You were just here four weeks ago, Colapinto. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled, giving her that familiar, playful look. “Four weeks is a long time, don’t you think?”

She shook her head, feeling a bit of the tension from the past month melt away. Whatever her own doubts, Franco hadn’t let her brush-off change him—he was still here, as charming and persistent as ever. And somehow, that lifted a weight off her shoulders.

“Have you been behaving?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or should I be prepared for more unexpected flower deliveries?”

Franco’s grin grew wider, his eyes flashing with that spark she was growing dangerously used to. “Depends. You miss them?”

She laughed softly, looking down to avoid letting him see her smile. “I’d hardly admit that if I did.”

He leaned in just slightly, his voice lowering. “Good thing I’m a patient man, then. Because I’m not done yet.” There was a softness to his tone, a hint of something genuine beneath his usual confidence, and it made her heart skip a beat.

Despite herself, she found comfort in his persistence, in his way of toeing the line between serious and playful without putting any pressure on her. For all his charm, he hadn’t crossed any lines. He was waiting, leaving the door open if she ever wanted to step through.

As he turned to head back toward his car, he glanced over his shoulder, giving her a wink. “You know where to find me if you change your mind, cariño. I’ll be around.”

And with that, he disappeared into the garage, leaving her standing there with a soft smile, feeling just a little lighter, a little braver.

She found herself glued to the screen as the race unfolded, Franco’s car darting through the pack with all the finesse and raw determination she’d come to recognise in him. Starting from P17, he had a long climb ahead of him, and as the laps ticked down, he kept gaining ground, his timing sharp, his decisions bold. He was relentless, working his way through the grid with an intensity that kept her at the edge of her seat.

By the halfway mark, he was already up to P12, and she could feel the anticipation building among the journalists and crew around her. Franco wasn’t just driving; he was fighting for every single position, taking advantage of each moment with an almost calculated risk. And he was doing it with the confidence that had both frustrated and charmed her from the start.

Then, in the final laps, with a daring overtake on the inside line, he claimed P10. A top ten finish. It was almost too perfect—his words from the last race echoing in her mind as he crossed the line: “If they ask, I’ll do it again.”

The paddock was buzzing with excitement as she made her way toward the media pen, preparing herself for the post-race interview. She tried to tamp down the flutter of nerves, reminding herself that he’d been charming his way through interviews with her for weeks now. But there was something different this time, a spark of pride mingled with her excitement, and she couldn’t wait to see him walk in.

When he finally appeared, the smile on his face was brighter than she’d ever seen. Still in his race suit, a towel on his head, he strode over to her with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. She raised her microphone, struggling to keep her voice steady.

“Franco Colapinto,” she began, her own smile betraying just a hint of the thrill she felt. “P10 from P17—congratulations. Tell us, how did you manage such an impressive climb?”

He grinned, leaning casually into the microphone. “Well, you know me. I like a good challenge,” he said, his gaze holding hers for a second longer than necessary. “And I couldn’t let down the one person who told me I had to keep improving.”

The implication wasn’t lost on anyone listening, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She rolled her eyes slightly, playing it off as best she could. “Seems like you’re making a habit of climbing positions to impress,” she replied, keeping her tone light.

Franco’s smile softened, turning almost genuine. “For some things,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear, “it’s worth the effort.”

She swallowed, momentarily at a loss for words, but managed to pull herself together, keeping the interview rolling. “Well, you’ve certainly earned that P10. What’s the plan for next time? Any more surprise performances in store?”

“Oh, definitely,” he replied, flashing her a grin. “But let’s say I’ll aim higher than P10 next time. If someone out there is willing to set a new challenge for me, I’ll be ready.” His words hung in the air, a subtle invitation that made her heart skip a beat.

She couldn’t hold back her smile as she wrapped up the interview, his gaze lingering on her with that same unspoken promise. And as she watched him walk away, her heart raced with the thrill of what might come next, realising that maybe—just maybe—she was ready to see where this challenge would lead.

As Franco walked away, she felt the lingering warmth of his gaze, that same thrill coursing through her that she’d tried so hard to brush off. But now, it seemed, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to. The interview had felt like more than just a casual exchange; his words, his look—there was something real beneath the flirtation, something she found herself wanting to chase.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of post-race coverage and media duties, but her thoughts kept drifting back to him, to the way his eyes had held hers, steady and genuine, as he’d promised to aim even higher. It was only when she caught herself looking around the paddock, almost instinctively, that she realised she was seeking him out. By then, her professional caution had faded, replaced by something far less reasonable but far more enticing.

She knew she was violating so many unspoken rules as she made her way around the paddock, ducking out of the more crowded paths and slipping past the occasional lingering crew member. A pang of guilt buzzed at the back of her mind, but it was no match for the magnetic pull drawing her toward his driver’s room.

She stopped outside the door, exhaling a shaky breath as her pulse raced with a mix of nerves and anticipation. The hallway was quiet, the sounds of the bustling paddock fading away. Before she could second-guess herself, she raised her hand and knocked softly.

The door opened, and there he was, in a grey tracksuit and plain black top, his expression shifting from surprise to that warm, familiar smile that had always managed to disarm her.

“Well,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “I didn’t expect my motivation to show up in person.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding her smile. “I figured I’d come to make sure you’re planning to keep your word. That climb to P10 wasn’t exactly a small feat.”

His smile softened, and he stepped aside, wordlessly inviting her in. As the door clicked shut behind them, the noise and pressures of the paddock slipped away, leaving just the two of them. The look he gave her—warm, unguarded, and almost vulnerable—made her heart skip a beat.

She’d broken so many of her own rules just to get here, but in this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to regret a single one.

Taking a moment to look around, she noticed his bags were packed and ready for the triple header and that there was nowhere to sit.

She sat on the edge of his bed, trying to look at ease despite the heat rising in her cheeks. Franco stood in front of her, close enough that her knees brushed his legs. The room felt charged with his presence, the quiet intensity in his gaze making it impossible to look away.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he murmured, leaning down a bit. The way his dark eyes lingered on her, sweeping over her face and holding her gaze, sent a rush of warmth through her.

She felt a smile tugging at her lips, trying to keep her voice steady. “Figured I’d make sure you’re holding up after all that hard work.”

He chuckled, his voice low, with just a hint of playfulness. “Oh, I’m holding up just fine.” He reached out, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek, letting his thumb linger just a moment too long against her skin. “In fact, I think I’m doing better than fine.”

Her cheeks flushed even deeper, but she held his gaze, determined not to let him throw her off-balance—at least not completely. “You know,” she said, trying to match his tone, “you don’t have to turn everything into a line, Colapinto.”

Franco tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Only with you, cariño.”

She let out a soft laugh, her heartbeat picking up as he moved closer, until he was standing right between her legs. She felt his fingers trace gently along her jawline, his thumb tilting her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes.

“Not used to being flirted with, cariño?” he asked softly, his voice smooth and teasing.

She swallowed, feeling her blush deepen as her usual composure slipped. “No… not like this.”

“Shame,” he murmured, his thumb grazing her cheek as his eyes searched hers, warm and intent. His voice softened, and the playfulness gave way to something more genuine. “Because I’m just getting started.”

She felt her breath hitch, her pulse racing as his words sank in, leaving her both disarmed and impossibly drawn in. And in that moment, she realised that every wall she’d put up around him was slipping away, piece by piece.

For a moment, she couldn’t take her eyes off him, the air between them thick with anticipation. Then, she noticed the small silver chain dangling from his neck, glinting faintly against the fabric of his black top, and without thinking, she reached up, wrapping her fingers around it gently.

Franco’s gaze flickered in surprise, his breath catching as she tugged on the chain, pulling him just close enough that their faces were inches apart. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, and the intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through her that made her heart pound. His hands settled on either side of her hips as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the charged silence.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, soft and exploratory, but the warmth in his response was immediate. His hand slid up her back, pulling her closer, and she felt his fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his touch gentle yet confident.

She didn’t realise how tightly she was gripping his chain until she felt his hand cover hers, his thumb tracing lightly over her knuckles as if to say, I’m here.

When they finally parted, both of them slightly breathless, Franco looked at her, hand caressing her cheek, his smile soft and real, devoid of his usual playfulness. He looked at her with a quiet intensity that made her stomach flip.

“You know," he started, his voice dipping into that smooth, charming tone, “I thought I never had a chance with you. You made me work for every single look, every smile…” He shook his head, his hand still resting against her cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath her jaw. “I was convinced you’d never actually let me get this close.”

She felt a warm, amused smile tugging at her lips as she listened to him, his words genuine but tinged with that familiar, playful charm. Watching him, her heart surged with an undeniable impulse, one she didn’t want to ignore any longer. In one fluid motion, she slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his again with a fierce, unrestrained intensity that sent sparks through her.

Franco’s surprise melted instantly, his hands slipping from her cheek to either side of her hips, matching her passion. The kiss deepened, turning slower, almost reverent, as if neither of them wanted the moment to end. She could feel his pulse racing under her hands, his warmth overwhelming in the most exhilarating way.

Without breaking the kiss, she leaned back, drawing him down with her onto the bed. She felt his weight settle gently over her, his hands bracing on either side of her as he kissed her with a hunger that felt both new and inevitable. When he finally pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over hers, his voice was breathless, a bit dazed.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his fingers tracing down her arm as he held her gaze, a vulnerable softness there she hadn’t seen before.

“Good,” she whispered back, her own voice unsteady, feeling as though her walls were completely gone now. “Because I don’t plan on making it easy for you.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned down, his mouth finding hers again with an eagerness that left them both completely lost in each other, as if the rest of the world had faded away.

Maybe he was worth the wait.

the end.

[ivyues]

Ruined for anyone else - Bang Chan

"If we ever broke up, I think you ruined me for anyone else."

Chris sat cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through his phone while you cuddled into his side, head resting on his shoulder. The soft glow of the TV bathed the room in muted light, but neither of you paid it much attention. It was one of those quiet nights where words flowed easily, the kind of comfort that came from being completely at ease with each other.  

You tilted your head to look up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips as a thought came to mind. Without much preamble, you murmured, “You know, if we ever broke up… I think you ruined me for anyone else.”  

Chris froze mid-scroll, his fingers hovering over the screen. Slowly, he turned to look at you, his brows furrowing, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.  

“I mean,” you said softly, “you’ve set the bar so high. You’re so attentive, so thoughtful… I don’t think I could ever find someone else who loves me like you do. You’ve shown me what it’s supposed to feel like.”  

His phone slipped from his hands as he let out a quiet, almost shaky laugh, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know… You know, I don’t always feel like I’m enough,” he admitted, his voice low.

Your heart clenched, and you sat up a little to take his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “Chris, stop,” you said firmly. “You’re more than enough. You’ve raised my standards so high I couldn’t even imagine anyone else. That’s why I said it – you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”  

He lifted his eyes to meet yours, wide and searching, and for a moment, he looked like he didn’t quite believe you. Then he gave a small, disbelieving laugh, a soft smile tugging at his lips. 

“Ruined you, huh?” he finally said, his tone teasing, but the slight break in his voice betrayed how deeply your words affected him. He reached out, cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “You think I’d ever let that happen? There’s no ‘breaking up,’ alright? You’re stuck with me.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his response, but he wasn’t done. His voice softened, taking on a vulnerable edge as he added, “But… hearing you say that? It means everything to me. I just – I try so hard to be good for you, you know? To make sure you know how much I love you. So… thank you. For saying that.”

You reached up, placing your hand over his. “You don’t have to try. You just… are.”

He stared at you for a long moment, then leaned in and kissed you, slow and lingering, as if to say all the things words couldn’t. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“For the record,” he whispered, “you’ve ruined me too. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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