#and he takes advantage and lays across my back

[wtfsteveharrington]

something new | luca x reader

i was awoken from a dream last night

contents: requested size kink so luca is hung!! basically pwp, slight somnophilia if you squint, unprotected sex, spanking, lots of pet names from Luca, reader receiving fingering, dirty talk, semi-submissive reader vibes, pulling out for backshots but some cum play still whoops

a/n: used a photo of will bc it fit the vibe so well 🌝 can we, as a fandom, decide a last name for this man!! only semi proof read i fear pls ignore any mistakes. also no pronouns or real reader description used.

contents: 2.7k.

the climax right before morning's first light

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Your body feels heavy as it’s pulled from a deep sleep. 

There’s warm lips on your shoulder placing soft kisses along your skin, a hand kneading at your ass while you wake up. You hum into the quiet room while burying your face into the pillow desperately not ready to wake up. “S’everything okay?” 

Luca’s chuckling against you, sliding his calloused hand up the back of your thigh while you stay lying on your stomach. He looks down at the sight of you illuminated in the moonlight from his apartment window, soaking in every inch. His hand cups under the bottom of your behind, giving it a little jiggle for his own entertainment. 

“All’s fine, my love. Didn’t mean to wake you so early.”

You turn your head towards the nightstand and it takes a few blinks for your eyes to finally focus on the dim clock. 3:30 AM. Early enough for him to get up to shower, make tea, and leave out a small note of affection on the counter for when you wake up at a much more reasonable time. He typically doesn’t wake you, opting to shimmy out of the bed but not this morning. 

There’s lips on your neck now. “Was dreaming about you and had to make sure you were real.” His hand is sliding in between your thighs now, pulling them apart. Inches away from where you’re starting to crave him. You’re whining in the pillow now while arching your hips up towards his touch. He’s grinning against your skin and rocking himself towards your side. Luca’s hard and heavy against you. “Gonna go take care of this in the bathroom. Just needed a little touch of you before I go.” 

You’re shaking your head now, trying to unpin your arm that’s trapped between the two of you so you can find the waistband of his sweats slung low on his waist. “No, no. Don’t go.” The elastic is tight against your fingers as you slip your hand into his pants, fingertips brushing along his growing length which rewards you with a moan from your boyfriend. His hand gently slaps down on the flesh of your ass before he starts to pull away. You murmur out protests as you stretch your arms out straight ahead of you, fingers curling around the edge of the bed. There’s a rush of cold air as he pulls the blanket from your frame and tosses it to the empty side of the bed. 

He’s grabbing a pillow next and tapping his fingers against your side, grinning as you take the hint and lift your hips for him. “Just lay there, Darling. Let me take care of you.” Luca makes sure you’re comfortable. Taking his time to fluff the pillow just right. Running his wide hands down your back while still lazily waking up. The bed creaks under the two of you as he moves to kneel between your spread legs. He admires your stretched out form. The curve of your ass propped up and his for the taking. You’re wearing an oversized cliche t-shirt from the last trip you took together and this old pair of underwear with a half worn off print. Not the sexiest outfit to ever grace this bedroom to say the least and yet Luca doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

His thumbs slide along the seam of your underwear that’s stretched across your cheeks, warm hands sliding up your backside to your lower back to gently work on your relaxed body. He leans forward to reach up towards your shoulders, the length of him sliding against your ass and eliciting a moan from you. Luca’s taking advantage of this position to rut himself against you, the feeling of your soft body under him working him up even more than he thought was possible. 

“Always so good for me, aren’t you?” You’re nodding against the pillow, turning your head to the side to press a kiss against the hands that are now on your shoulders. “Only yours, Luca.” He’s groaning above you and there’s warm, open mouth kisses being pressed along your spine now. 

There’s a shuffling coming from behind you as Luca makes quick work of kicking his sweatpants off. You feel the warmth of his skin directly on the inside of your thighs now as he sits back up. He’s crooking fingers in the waistband of your underwear and finally, finally pulling them down your thighs and leaving you exposed to him. They’re stuck right above your knees - Both Luca kneeling between your legs and how far spread open you are making it impossible for them to go any lower. “Are you passionate about these?”

You barely shake your head no, because again they’re old and worn and you find it endearing he even asked, before the sound of them being ripped off of you fills the room causing you to gasp out. Luca haphazardly tosses them towards the trash can in the corner and gets to work pulling his own boxes down. You’re needy. Wiggling your hips through the air in slow movements to entice him. As if he needed anymore motivation. You follow his guidance and haphazardly make work taking off your shirt, balling it up and throwing it on his now empty side of the bed.

Since Luca’s doing all the work you allow yourself to stay, essentially, half asleep. Your eyes are still heavy and hooded and your body lax against the bed. He’s delivering one more small smack to the roundest part of your ass before his fingers find their way between your thighs. Normally he’d take more time teasing you, building you up. As much as he yearns to spend the whole day tangled in you, he does have to get to work soon. For now he’s going to be quick but he plans on taking his time with you again tonight. 

There’s fingers sliding up either side of your folds, a slow languid motion to get you used to his touch before his middle fingers slips in. You’re slackjaw against the pillow, letting out a stream of breathy whimpers you can’t control. Luca knows you. Knows every inch of you. So he’s using that knowledge to get you ready for him. His pointer finger slides into you while his thumb finds your clit at the same time. You’re wet, the scissoring and dragging motions Luca’s making causing a slick sound to come from between your thighs. 

“Luca, please.” He grins down at your backside, enjoying the view of his fingers working deep inside of you. “Always so greedy, aren’t you?” You respond by rocking your hips back against his hand and clenching down against his fingers which causes him to chuckle. “Alright, alright.” His hand slides out of you and smacks down against the back of your thigh. Your left behind wetness from his fingers attracts the cold air and causes goosebumps to rise. 

You secretly like when Luca spends a little less time stretching you out then he probably should. The way your boyfriend stretches you out as he first pushes in you has become a piece of heaven. There are nights he spends as long as you’ll allow eating you out and fingering you, toying with your pussy for his own enjoyment. Leaving his chin wet with you and a darken spot on the sheets until he fucks through how sloppy he’s turned you. 

Not tonight. You’re wet, yes. But you know there’s going to be a heavenly burning feeling coming your way. The amount of care your boyfriend puts into you making you comfortable enough to open yourself in that way. Knowing he’d stop the second you asked if needed. 

The head of his cock sits heavy against your entrance and you feel yourself desperately clenching around nothing. He’s pulling you from your train of thought and your body is buzzing in anticipation. The slap of the tip of him against your clit causes your body to jerk which prompts Luca to use his free hand to grip your hip, holding you in place. “Be good, yeah? Let me get us off before I gotta go. Can’t have you wet all day waiting for me to come back home to take care of you.” Luca lines himself up with your hole, sliding just the tip of himself in which pulls a moan from both of you. 

“Baby, please.” Pride swells in Luca’s chest as you start to beg. If he hadn’t been gripping your hips then you would have rolled them back to take more of his length in you. Instead he goes slow, allowing you to adjust to his girth inch by inch. Even after dating for this long, you still weren’t used to him yet. 

There’s a bit of drool coming from the corner of your still parted lips as Luca works his length in. Your boyfriend was well endowed to say the least. A good length, something you could still take to the back of your throat but not so long you couldn’t sink all the way down it. But his girth? That was unmatched. Thick, heavy, and all yours. 

“Feel so amazing, Darling. Was dreaming about this pussy spreading around me.” Luca jerks another inch in without warning, a squelching sound coming from you as the movement causes some wetness to drip out. You can’t form a thought when he’s got you like this. Your body is still relaxed against the bed as Luca stretches you out. 

It takes a moment for him to bottom out and all your mind can focus on is just how deep he feels inside of you. The sensation causes your breath to catch, pathetically letting out whatever whimper you can muster and allowing him to use you to his heart’s content. Luca gives your hip a little squeeze as a warning he’s going to start moving, giving you a second to accept what’s to come before the first roll of his hips hits. 

You’re a mess. Groggy still, already becoming cock drunk. It’s easy to do with him. “S’full, Luc. So, so full.” Even with his brows knitted in concentration as he tries not to instantly cum at the sight of your pussy stretched around him, he’s proud to get you this way. 

But God does the sight of you already have him close. 

Stretched out around him, filled to the max you could be. You look so beautiful like that. Luca fucks through all the wetness you give him, hips building a steady rhythm easily. His eyes flash over towards the clock and something about the pressure of a time constraint is making him a bit more feral than he expected. 

His pace quickens and you’re back to being reduced to a drooling mess under him. Moaning out an incoherent string of pleas, praise, and curses. You couldn’t repeat what’s coming from your mouth even if you tried. His heavy balls slap against your clit which each thrust and Luca’s grabbing your hips with both hands now to get a better grip on you. Fingertips digging in enough that bruises will be left as he starts to fuck into with a firm pace. 

“Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy. So wet for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna be sore all day now but you don’t care. Every step’s gonna remind you how good I fuck you.” 

Your head is spinning. 

You allow yourself to be fucked by Luca, hands gripping the edge of the bed as you desperately clutch anything within reach to keep yourself grounded. He’s… Brutal. Fucking you for his own pleasure in a way. He needed to get off and get off quick before work - But arrogantly knew how good you were for him. Knew that him using you like this would get you off too. 

One of his hands gripping your hip loses his grip and there’s another smack being delivered to the fat of your ass. He groans at the sight of you bouncing, the red mark already blooming from his hand. The burning of being stretched out is fading away and being replaced by the pure pleasure of your boyfriend wrecking your body. 

His hand is sliding up from your ass to press down on the small of your back, a comforting touch compared to the brutal pace of his hips. Long forgotten is the sleepy mask of morning, Luca just chasing after pleasure for the both of you now. You purposely flutter yourself around his length, trying to pull him closer as well. 

“Can you come for me, Darling? You can do that, can’t you? Wanna feel this pretty little pussy finish before I do.” You’re squeezing yourself tighter around him now, the soft pillowcase feeling rougher as your face continues to bounce against it. The room is getting hotter by the second around you two. 

Something about the combination of circumstances has you getting close to finishing far faster than normal. You catch yourself biting down on the pillow as Luca drags his nails down the soft skin of your back, his hips not losing pace as the all too familiar sensation starts to coil up deep inside of you. 

You’re crying out at the sensation, pussy tightening around him as your orgasm rocks through your body. Toe curling, back arching, clit throbbing orgasm. You collapse even further into the bed, a mess of breathless whimpers as Luca continues to fuck through your sensitive body. God you sound lewd with how wet you ended up. 

Luca’s quick to follow after watching you come undone around him.  

He’s moaning out your name, giving a few more pumps through your wetness before quickly pulling out. Stroking his soaked length to keep the sensation and then you feel warmth splattering along your ass and back as he cums on you. He’s breathless and whiney, teasing his own overstimulated cock behind you. Thumb swiping along his tip to collect the last droplets before wiping it in-between your folds and pressing it into you. 

As much as he loved cumming in you, he wanted to make sure he had time to get you cleaned up before he had to leave but he still couldn’t leave you without anything left inside of you. 

Luca drags you to the bathroom after he gives you a moment to collect yourself. Normally he’d take his time with aftercare but sadly he’s lacking just that - time. You use the restroom while he draws the two of you a shower and take a good look at yourself in the mirror while he corrects the water temperature. Healing hickies low on your chest, your hair looking crazy from the combination of sleeping and being wrecked. He’s got twenty minutes left before he runs out of time to make his breakfast but he refuses to leave you in a pile in the bed. 

He makes quick work of washing off your over sensitive body, letting you stand there and run your fingers along his chest, his arms, whatever inch of skin you can reach. “You’re so pretty.” 

Now after what just happened in the bedroom? You’d think nothing would phase him. 

But Luca’s cheeks are going bright red at the compliment. He cups your face with his soapy hands, bringing you two together for a kiss as a silent thank you. 

Luca gets you dried off and sends you back to bed with a pat on your ass. He’s rushing to get ready for work while you lay down in a lump on the bed. Towel tight around your body and the covers long forgotten. It takes a few minutes for him to emerge from the bathroom clothed and hair gelled but he can’t help laughing at the sight of you. You feel the towel being tugged away from your body, the previously discarded blanket being tucked around you and a kiss pressed to the top of your head. 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

He leaves everything you need for your morning tea sitting on the counter before running out the door.

[bi-writes]

Does MOB ever just like.. walk up to Simon and like... Grab his ass?? Fondle his tibbies a lil bit?? Give a good squeeze to his cheeks or his milkers?? Cause if he was my husband and he was okay w it I would do that shit literally on sight every day

mail-order bride

you've been staring since he walked into the room.

he's wearing a shirt two times too small. it must be laundry day. either way, your husband looks...bigger than normal. he's cooking, standing at the kitchen counter as he sears off a few pieces of something in a pot, and when he drops a few dashes of soy sauce into the pot, you think a man has never looked so sexy sauteing onions.

he turns finally to the cutting board behind him, and he winks when he meets your eyes. you giggle involuntarily, a shrill sound leaving you because you have the biggest fucking crush on this man.

can men have tits? they can. they do. simon does. and you can see them in this tiny fucking shirt, and now you understand sometimes why your dresses end up torn on the floor of your living room--because you just want it.

"simon--"

"'ello, luv," he hums, licking some sauce off his finger before going back to chopping some herbs that lay on the cutting board. you pad further into the kitchen, coming close, and he looks up finally when you're standing right beside him. "somethin' wrong?"

"you're so hot," you whisper, and simon continues chopping, big arm moving as he leans over into your space a little.

"wot's tha'?"

"you're so hot, simon."

he chuckles lowly, moving the knife under the pile to place into a bowl. he sets down the knife and turns to face you, crossing his arms over his chest. fuck, it's making his chest look bigger, ughhh...

"somethin' the matter? ya sick?"

"no," you whine, reaching over, and he drops his arms when you forcibly move them away, pushing your hands up his stomach, over his pecs, squeezing the firm muscle there. "oh my god..." you lean in, getting on your toes, and he gives in quite easily, kissing you warmly. "i can't believe you're mine--"

simon huffs as you throw your arms around his neck, lifting your leg around his waist, and he bends to hoist you into his arms as you start trying to climb him like your very own tree (which even then might be impossible, with the huge trunk of a man that he is). you sigh when he drops your weight onto the counter, and with less distance between you, you take full advantage--licking into his mouth, feeling and squeezing up his chest, whispering between kisses i love you and is it hot in here or is it just you? and i want this, i want you, please, simon.

"wot's gotten into ya, baby?" simon murmurs, holding you at a distance. you're eager to get back to him, to kiss him again, and you whimper when he holds you firm, making you look at him. "hmm?"

"i don't know," you breathe, panting. you squeeze the back of his neck, whining, and you try and scoot closer. "i don't know, i just...you look so good...i just..."

the smile that spreads across his face takes your breath away. he's not pretty, but he's pretty. his face tells a thousand stories. a missing tooth or two, a cut lip that never healed right, the slashes that have closed over unevenly across his eyes and along his cheek--but why is he so gorgeous? what makes you so feral for this one man, more than you've ever been for anyone else in your entire life?

there's just something about him. something about simon makes him so beautiful. there's a soft heart underneath that solid chest, there's a full belly and warm body under your hands as you explore the ridges and dips of the rest of his body. he's got the stature of a protector, the eyes of a killer, but fuck, he loves like no one else.

he loves you. he loves like no one else does, ever will, ever has, and he loves you.

you giggle as you cup his cheeks, tracing his lips with your thumb, admiring him.

"sorry, it's hard to be serious," you sigh, shaking your head. "just wanna jump your bones, simon."

"me, too, luv."

"then what are we waiting for, simon?"

he tsks, drawing you closer, pressing his forehead to yours.

"no idea, baby. no fucking clue."

[shotmrmiller]

Sitting disgruntled in Johnny's kitchen with a shirt you had no choice in wearing because it's either this— a deep navy cotton tee that hangs loose on your frame, his unmistakable scent wrapped around you like an uninvited guest or your own shirt which lay in his bathroom sink, sopping wet and decidedly out of commission.

The locksmith was taking their sweet time, and the rain showed no signs of stopping. You could've stood outside and braved the freezing cold misery standing by your very locked car (with your keys inside) but even you weren't so proud as to decline Johnny's offer of waiting it out at his place.

Although you almost turned right back around when he gave you a grin that showed far too many teeth at the sight of you at his front door, only to smile even wider— the carved out skin on his chin stretching taut— when his sharp gaze lingered a little too long on your chest.

"Oi."

His hands had raised up, cool-hued eyes now molten hot. "I'll be good, promise."

You'd meant to loaf around in his living room, with a scratchy, thin white towel around your shoulders for warmth but he'd have none of it, arguing that you'll catch a cold and while he'll do many things for you— the emphasis on the word many with a stare you could physically feel grazing over your face, the bare curve of your shoulder and the chipped polish on your toes was dizzying— he isn't a very good nurse.

And with Johnny, giving him rope means he'll want a cowboy.

Naturally.

It's mildly disarming, watching him flit around his kitchen, tossing whatever he has in his pan with one hand. Oddly domestic. The whistle of the kettle punctuates the air, and without missing a beat he places a lid over the pan and reaches for the cupboard. And here you'd thought he'd been raised in a barn.

"Ye will 'ave tea 'nd some scran," he says, the words thick with his accent, "And I'll 'ear none o' it."

You bite the inside of your cheek and lie. "The locksmith's going to be here soon, I've only time for tea." But of course, Johnny sniffs your bluff out and he isn't one to let it go unnoticed or unchallenged.

He slides the warm mug across the counter toward you, his roughened knuckles brushing against yours just enough to send frissons up your arm. "Aye," Johnny drawls, dragging the word out in a way that has heat crawling up your spine. "I'm sure."

Then there's a fork in your face, a piece of chicken pierced through the teeth. "If ye willnae eat, then I'll feed ye." A soft curl of steam rises from it, carrying a savory aroma that hits you square in the stomach, twisting it into knots of hunger. "Open."

It hovers too close to be casual, so you encircle his wrist, your fingertips barely encompassing it— your fingertips don't even graze each other— and tilt your head back slightly.

"It disnae bite." But by the looks of him, the blue of his irises electric in its intensity, he just might.

So you take his offering. A bit on the bland side, but completely edible.

"Not so bad, aye?" Johnny's tone is light, words sliding out with an easy lilt, but there's something about the way he says it that sets your teeth on edge. He leans back, a smarmy smile curling his lips, thoroughly enjoying this small victory.

"It needs more salt." He shrugs a bulky shoulder as he turns, picking up another piece and offers it to you.

You eye him warily. "'M watchin' my sodium." Johnny nudges the fork closer, and this time you open your mouth to tell him to piss off, or at least add more goddamn salt, but he takes advantage of the opportunity and sticks it in and it's hot. So bloody hot, it sears your tongue before you can even think to spit it out. The heat spreads, sharp and unforgiving, and you instinctively jerk back, but he grabs your face, fingers feathering along your jaw and your cheeks dip under the pressure.

Then he's blowing into your mouth and it's clumsy, frenzied, and entirely too intimate, his lips hovering just shy of yours, his nose brushing yours as he mutters a quick apology between breaths. You're caught somewhere between mortification and disbelief, your hands frozen mid-air as Johnny blows one more time before pulling away.

"Didnae think it was hot enough t'burn ye," he tosses over his shoulder. Johnny's turned away now, broad back to you, plating the food but you haven't taken your eyes off him. The way he'd quickly closed the space between you two, taken control of the situation— it's as if he knew what he'd been doing even though he pretended otherwise.

Your phone blessedly rings then, a much-needed distraction and you almost choke on the cooled chicken as you scramble to answer. Your voice comes out half-garbled as you manage to blurt, "Hello?"

The locksmith's here, finally, and you're grabbing your sodden shoes, keeping his shirt because it's incredibly soft, and being unwillingly walked to the front door.

"I'll be seein' ye, hen," he says, his gaze unapologetically focused on you. His smile still has too many teeth.

"Right. Thanks." Your tongue feels foreign in your own mouth, numb and uncooperative, and you run it along the edges of your teeth. The rain has softened into a gentle drizzle and you all but run away, shoes splashing against wet pavement, your car coming into view in seconds, the locksmith moments later.

Fucking finally.

(Not if you see him first.)

[catboyieejeno]

mingyu + foreplay

18+ minors do not interact!

• kim mingyu, who leaves so many kisses all over your body that you can't get the feeling of his lips off your mind for days after.

“god, i could kiss you forever.”

• open mouthed kisses along your neck and the expanse of your chest first thing in the morning, panting and groaning into your skin and muttering a string of pleas and praises with his little lisp, that’s even more obvious when he’s just woken up

“please let me feel you, need to feel you so bad right now,”

• or at night, dragging you onto his lap fresh out of your shower to wrap a hand around your jaw/throat and kiss your lips slowly and sensually. would drag his palms along your spine to pull you closer, all the way up until his fingers disappear into your hair, the smell of your body wash and shampoo driving him up the wall and making his dick swell up in his sweats

“y’smell so good. fuck, i just wanna taste you,”

• the feeling of his hot tongue dragging across your stomach and thighs is so dizzying that it immediately makes your vision lose focus. he's obsessed with being the reason for that look on your face, eyes hazy and glossed over, drooling lips wordlessly begging him for more.

“mmm, look at you. my pretty baby is fucked out already?”

• makes out with your pussy over the layer of your pretty cotton panties until you're soaked-through and whimpering. absolutely loves when your squirm or try to wiggle away. loves to subtly dance along the line of edging and overstimulation.

“don’t run baby, let me make you feel good. you can take it right?”

• doesn’t abuse his strength, but will use it to his advantage when it comes to sex. keeps your pretty legs pinned open, or your hips rolling against his nose and tongue while you’re sitting on his face, even when you’re so exhausted from coming that you can barely hold yourself up

“I got you, honey. stay just like this f’me.”

• if any if the members are there, he’d cover your mouth with his hand to muffle your whimpers and cries as he rubs your clit with his fingers relentlessly. mind you—a few things can be true at once: yes, he loves the noises you make and would do absolutely anything to hear them as loudly and clearly as possible. yes, he doesn’t actually care if the members hear, nor does he care about the teasing he’ll have to endure later (besides, he knows they can probably hear you either way, despite his best efforts to keep quiet). while those facts are both very true—god, does he love how shy and nervous you get at the thought of being overheard by them, eyes blown wide and brows furrowed as you struggle to keep still and quiet all at once.

“Gotta be good and stay quiet, baby. you can do that, right?”

• loves to tease you before actually putting it in: taps his head against your puffy clit, presses himself to your entrance only slightly, chuckles breathlessly when his tip is so fat that it slips and ends up just laying heavy and hot on your pelvis or poking your thigh instead. slides his dick between your lips until you’ve soaked every inch of him and you’re shaking with need from the stimulation to your clit and the desire to just be filled up.

“be patient, yeah? let me enjoy this pretty pussy.”

• so easily distracted by you… if you were helping him with dinner he’d turn off the stove at the sight of you in your little shorts or lack-thereof, if you’re wearing just his shirt. immediately bends you over the counter and eats you out from the back, face buried in your pussy and hands sliding your shirt up or pinning your wrists together on your back

“forget the food baby, it can wait when you’re wearing those little shorts…”

• pictures. of your tits covered in his spit, of the marks he left on your ribs or thighs, of your spent pussy covered in his cum, of your hands wrapped around his cock, of his hand print on your ass—keeps them in a hidden photo album and jerks off to them all the time when he’s away. sends you videos of him touching himself, audio on.

“m’thinking about you. and looking at our pictures. goddamn… wish i could fuck you right now. i miss you so bad.”

[vettelsvee]

A NANNY AND SEB'S SECRET CRUSH | Sebastian Vettel

⋆ PAIRING: Single dad Red Bull!Sebastian Vettel x Nanny!Female Reader ⋆ SUMMARY: Seb needs a nanny to take care of his 4 years old daughter, Danielle. What he didn't expect was to have a crush and fall in love with you ⋆ WARNINGS: Mentions of drugs. NOTHING ELSE, just fluff and Single Dad!Red Bull Seb (2014) :) ⋆ WORD COUNT: 3237 ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: I was craving writing Seb, so it was this or Spidey Dad!Seb. All my works have been flopping for a while but anyways, I have faith this go well 🫶🏻. Hope you like this and, if so, please tell me your thoughts, talk to me and reblog! Thank you so much for reading <3 ↳ TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST | CITY OF STARS F1 AU

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Sebastian Vettel was in his driver room after an intense race Sunday. That Grand Prix had ended, but ahead of the German lay a journey of approximately nine hours to the next destination.

The truth was that the frequency with which the driver traveled was normal, but he wouldn't be so tired —and even worried— if it weren't for his four-year-old daughter, Danielle, who was currently playing with her grandmother with some small racing cars.

Seb could see the excitement in the little one, although he was also aware of the fatigue showing on his mother's face. From the couch where he was lying down, he sighed, feeling guilty for burdening Heike with that responsibility. If only his ex-girlfriend, Isabella, hadn't gotten into drugs and abandoned Seb and baby Danielle, who was only three months old...

The last few months had been chaos for the Red Bull driver, and with each passing day, he was increasingly convinced that he didn't want to, but had to hire a nanny who would be available to accompany them for the remainder of the season. He was fully aware that his mother couldn't take responsibility for his daughter all the time, and even less so traveling every week to a different part of the world.

Seb was aware that he had to make a decision, and he had to do it as soon as possible.

That same afternoon, without having yet mentioned it to his mother for fear of her reaction, the driver found himself in his hotel room surrounded by clothes he hadn't yet packed and a completely asleep Danielle on his right side. With his laptop on his lap, he was exhaustively browsing a forum recommended by a few of the men in the Red Bull crew, to find a nanny. Some of them had tried to use it, but it ultimately proved futile.

Seb, however, hoped to have better luck than them, so he delved into the search for a nanny in distress.

After reading, for what ended up being about three hours, countless resumes, and not being entirely convinced by any of them, he came across a girl who seemed quite interesting. According to your profile, you lived in Switzerland, the same country where Seb lived. However, what actually caught his attention the most was that you were specialized in early childhood education and, furthermore, in musical education. He hoped that was true because if it were, he would fight tooth and nail to make you his right hand in caring for his daughter.

Immediately, as if it were a matter of life or death, he decided to follow your profile and then wrote and sent a brief message to see if it was possible, taking advantage of the fact that he would be back in Switzerland, to arrange a meeting with you next week at a city café.

Good afternoon (at least from where I am). I've read your profile and I must say, I was very impressed with everything written in it, so I would love to talk to you about a job offer I've had in mind for some time. Would it be possible for us to meet at a city café next week? That way we could get to know each other, and especially the little one.

Regards,

Sebastian Vettel.

After sending the message and, while waiting for a response from you, still lying on the bed, his mother called from the room. That startled Seb’s daughter awake, but instead of scaring her, it seemed to give her a burst of energy.

"What are you up to, son?" Heike inquired, noting the smile on her eldest son's face.

"I might have found a nanny for Danielle," he answered in a whisper. "I sent her a message a few minutes ago and I'm just hoping, and praying to whoever it takes, that she's interested."

Before his mother could ask why he hadn't mentioned it to her earlier, the little one joined the conversation of the adults:

"A nanny? Does that mean someone else is going to join us and play with me?"

"Exactly, sweetheart," her father replied to her, crouching down a bit, still concerned that his little one shouldn't know the news yet. "Grandma is tired, don't you notice? Same happens when grandpa Norbert joins us," Seb said, pointing to his mother and receiving a nod from the little girl. "And surely if she decides to come with us, you'll be able to play a lot with her, and also learn new things."

"That sounds like a lot of fun, dad!" exclaimed Danielle, throwing herself into her father's arms, which he gladly accepted. "When will we meet her?"

"I hope next week," the driver said, then turning to his mother. "If everything goes well and she responds to my message, we'll meet her at any café in Thurgau. That way we can get to know her a little better and, above all, see if she joins in on this madness."

"I think it's a wonderful idea, Seb. Anything that makes this little bug and you happy, makes me happy too."

The man smiled at his mother's comment. Every day, he became more aware of how much she had helped him move forward in raising Danielle. He had no doubt that, without his family’s help, he would feel pretty much lost in life.

As he continued lost in his thoughts, watching the two women of his life conversing animatedly, he entered once again his email account to see if he received any reply from you.

As he opened the application, he saw that the email referred to the job request he had made to you just a few minutes ago. Hurriedly, despite having his laptop just steps away on the bed, he grabbed the device and immediately headed to the webpage.

"Here you are!" the driver shouted once he found the correct password after seven attempts. "Let's see what you have to say, Y/N..."

Seb began to read aloud, catching the attention of grandmother and granddaughter:

Mr. Vettel:

I am delighted, and especially grateful, for the interest you have shown in my profile.

I am fully available to attend the meeting you requested in your email, just let me know where you would like it to take place and the meeting time.

Again, I thank you for the opportunity and I eagerly await meeting you in person.

Best regards,

Y/N Y/L/N.

"Okay," Seb began to explain, a little nervous. "If she has accepted, that means she might be interested. But... What if she's not interested? What if, in the end, she sees our lifestyle and denies us everything? Really, I think this was a bad idea and..."

"You don't have to worry about anything, son," Heike reassured him. "I'm sure that girl will be very kind and, above all, will take very good care of Danielle."

The little girl was jumping around the room, happy to know that there might be a new young woman taking care of her. Heike, for her side, simply smiled at her son, filling him with hope and positivity for what awaited them next week.

It had only been about five days, but for Sebastian Vettel, the wait had felt eternal. Now, finally, the German was in the town he moved to quite a few years ago on a sunny day, waiting with a cup of coffee for you to arrive. He kept glancing at his watch constantly, and every time the door of the establishment opened, he would tense up. So, when his mother entered with his daughter, he was disappointed again. Nonetheless, Seb quickly got up and gestured for them to come to the table, trying not to attract too much attention.

"Seb, dear, it looks like you've dressed up on purpose," his mother quipped with a wide smile on her face. "I can't wait to meet this girl and see what she's like."

"Are we going to meet the girl who's going to take care of me today?" Danielle asked innocently.

Before her father could ever answer, the door of the coffee shop opened again, ushering in who they presumed was you.

Seb had been lost in thought. You were even more beautiful than he expected.

"Hello, are you Mr. Vettel?" you commented shyly, approaching the table where the family was seated timidly. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N, the nanny you contacted."

As if it were a reflex action, Seb stood up from his chair in no time and adjusted his outfit to look as presentable as possible.

"The one and only! It's a pleasure to finally meet you," he expressed sincerely, offering his hand to the young woman. "Let me introduce you to my mother, Heike, and the main character of this story: my daughter, Danielle."

"Pleased to finally meet you, Y/N," Heike stated. "My son has talked a lot about you, and truth be told, we were very much excited to meet you."

You blushed. You weren't used to receiving compliments, especially not from strangers —and, definitely, not from a four-times Formula 1 driver.

"Hi, Y/N!" a small voice shouted at her feet. "Are you the nanny who's going to travel with us?"

"Hello, Danielle," you greeted, crouching down to the girl's level. "If your dad and grandma agree, I would be more than happy to accompany you wherever you go."

Once introductions were complete, you moved to sit at the table. Seb encouraged you all to order drinks, which he would treat. As they arrived, you all began to chat peacefully about your education, work experience, and even some more mundane topics.

Little Danielle listened carefully to the conversation her father was having with you, who decided to sat next to her. The truth was that she was getting more and more excited about the idea of ​​having such a kind girl like you were take care of her when her father couldn't.

As the conversation progressed and, truth be told, once Heike left you alone, you became more and more comfortable with the little family, finally able to leave your shyness behind.

"You know, I'm convinced that you're the most suitable person to take care of my daughter at this time," Seb commented. "Your experience, education, and above all, the responsibility you appear to have is what I'm looking for. Although, I'll be honest with you...: it's easy to be more responsible than me, I don't know what I would have done without my mother in the paddock."

You laughed at the comment from what would become your boss.

"I really appreciate this opportunity, Sebastian," you said with honesty. "I'm sure it will be a challenge for me at first, I can't deny that; but I know that your little one and I will get along great."

"Then now that granny Heike is gone, we can start our own racing team," Danielle proposed enthusiastically. "Look, Y/N: dad is the driver; you, if you can drive, are the other driver, and I'm the boss, like Toto!"

Seb burst into laughter at the idea of his daughter leading a Formula 1 team and, even more so, at the image his brain had created of the little one displaying the same behaviors as Wolff on the multiple occasions his aggressiveness had surfaced.

"It's a great idea, Danielle," you answered, playing along with the little one's game. "But first of all: what would you like your team to be called?"

4 months later

You were with Danielle in a play area near the paddock. The last Free Practice session was about to start, and since the girl didn't want to get bored before the qualifying session later on, she convinced you to go play with a puzzle that had recently been given to her by her father's teammate, Daniel Ricciardo.

Despite being a children's puzzle, you felt useless. Why couldn't you solve it? Perhaps your mind was thinking about something else at that moment… or someone else.

Still, all you both could do was laugh.

"You know what, Y/N?" Danielle inquired with a mischievous smile. "My daddy told me a secret the other day, but I'm going to tell you because you're like my mommy."

Sure, Seb has a girlfriend, Danielle loves her a lot, and they're going to fire me, you thought as you tried not to let your nerves eat you out alive.

"What did he tell you, Danielle?"

"That you're very, veeeeeery pretty," the girl blurted out without hesitation.

You didn't know how to answer, surprised by the words the girl you had grown so fond of in recent months had said. A blush began to rise on your cheeks as the little girl just kept playing playing with an innocent smile on her face.

"And she's right," the little one continued. "You're very pretty, yeah. What granny said about dad never lying is true."

"Thank you, sweetheart," you responded tenderly. "You're a beautiful girl too, both inside and out." You hugged her and planted a warm kiss on her forehead.

At that moment, Seb, who had already finished the session, approached where you both were, dying of love at the scene he was seeing closer every time.

"What are my favorite girls doing?" Seb asked curiously once he reached you, tousling his daughter's hair.

"We're playing, daddy," Danielle responded. "And daddy… isn't Y/N very pretty?"

The driver didn't know where to hide in that moment. Seb knew he shouldn't have said anything to his daughter because, despite being only four years old, she was a bit of a chatterbox.

You, on the other hand, just hugged the little girl, who was still determined to find a solution to the puzzle, without success.

"Yes, sweetheart," Seb finally replied, admiring the scene in front of him. "Y/N is the best woman ever. If it weren't for her, I don't know what would be happening with us right now."

"Maybe granny Heike would have punished you several times already without letting you race with your car and your friend Daniel," the girl innocently blurted out.

You felt nothing but gratitude for the treatment you had received from Sebastian since you started working for him. Obviously, the great compliment you had just received at that moment was not going to be any less.

"By the way, Y/N," Seb announced, "I promised Danielle that I would take her out for ice cream after the race. Do you have anything to do or...?"

"Yes, Y/N, come, please, pleaseeeeee!" Danielle squealed and jumped.

"Well, if I'm not intruding..."

Seb snorted, indignant at the young woman's antics.

"Hey, don’t say that ever again. You're part of the family," the German said. "You're more than welcome to join us!"

After finishing the race, which ended with Seb achieving a well-deserved P6 for the hell of a season he was going through, father, daughter, and nanny headed towards a café located in the paddock. Due to problems with his fans after the race, you didn't want to risk your safety, especially Danielle's, by going to just any ice cream parlor.

"The ice cream is on me, but thanks to Red Bull, so you better get the biggest one possible," Seb said unabashedly.

"Seb, really, it's not necessary," you expressed gratefully but a little embarrassed. "You're covering all my travel expenses and, besides, you’re paying me a salary…"

Sebastian sighed. You seemed impossible, and he absolutely hated that.

"I'm serious, choose whatever you want. You're part of our family, you should already know that," the driver insisted.

Reluctantly, you accepted your boss' offer, finally choosing a small tub of vanilla ice cream.. After each of you had made your order and had it in hand, you headed to a small table outside to enjoy your treats without distractions.

Once you finished, Danielle asked Seb and you for permission to play with some kids who were hanging around and who, as far as Vettel knew, were some of the children of the many workers from the different team as it was impossible for anyone else to be in the paddock at that late. Meanwhile, Seb and you just continued to have a chat, mainly about the remainder of the season.

There came a point where the topic became monotonous enough for Seb, finally determined to take the next step in his relationship with you, to break the silence:

"You know… there's something I've wanted to tell you for a few days now..." the German began. "Throughout this time you've been taking care of Danielle and, in a way, also taking care of me, I've realized that I don't just see you as the person who takes care of my greatest treasure, but as someone I want to be my second greatest treasure in life."

You trembled. The truth was, during the first month of working with the Vettels, you had quite liked Seb, but you promised yourself you wouldn't fall under his spell. He was your boss after all, and also Danielle’s dad. Three months later, everything seemed to have gone the other way around as you fell completely for the current Formula 1’s world champion.

However, you knew you both belonged to two completely different worlds, and no matter how hard you tried to make it work, your love would never be possible.

"Seb... I feel the same way too," you expressed, fearful. "But I think this will not only affect your life as a driver but also the stability we've reached with Danielle. Besides, a Formula 1 driver and a nanny? It's impossible, we're polar opposites," you asserted firmly, trying to keep your voice steady, trying not to falter due to the urge to cry you felt at that moment.

"I understand you're worried, but I can't deny what I feel for you anymore. You've been there for my daughter and myself, and you've become a mother to her," Seb had a lump in his throat. "I can't play dumb, even though that's what I usually do when I know I could end up losing the love of my life."

"I don't want to lose you or jeopardize what we have," you declared with tears streaming down your face, pretty much ashamed but not really caring about it. "Right now, Danielle is my priority, and I don't want the decisions we make to affect her. Imagine: what if we started dating, told her, and then ended everything? Do you think it will sit well with her?" you expressed with worry.

Seb took your hand and planted a small kiss on it.

"I perfectly understand what you mean and yeah, you’re right: my daughter will always be my priority," Vettel said sincerely. "But don't you think that, sometimes, we deserve to be our own main priority?"

Before you could even answer, Danielle ran towards you, her face as red as a tomato, possibly from running almost the whole time.

"I love you, daddy and Y/N," the girl confessed, then turned directly to you. "But if daddy loves you and you love him, and you start being boyfriend and girlfriend, I'd like to call you mommy."

Faced with a somewhat different declaration of love from the Vettels, you didn’t have words. 

At that moment, you didn't care about all your fears: she loved Sebastian and Danielle Vettel, and you were pretty sure that you’d do whatever it took to spend your whole life with them.

[shuosen]

gojo satoru x top! amab! reader

cw: slight degradation, hair pulling, blowjob (r), slight choking, slapping if you squint, overstim?, stomach bulge

there was a very, very thin line between lust and fear that many don’t realize they’ve traveled. they stand to wonder if the shivers that wrack their body are from desire, or terror. Gojo Satoru, is not afraid of anything. he is the strongest, he knows he is the strongest. his confidence and strength has gotten him to where he is today- where is he?

he wants to say he’s currently wooing a woman, that he’s in a fight, and of course winning, but he cant. he cant say he’s out doing badass shit- hell, he can’t say anything at all. not with your cock stuffed down his throat, pulsing veins pressing against his flat tongue that struggles to maneuver across the girth of your member.

his large, strong hands shake helplessly in the air before he lays them on his thighs, gripping the familiar texture of his uniform. his eyes twitch before shutting tight, attempting to keep the tears in his eyes from falling, because gojo satoru does not cry.

he’s struggling to keep it together and you chuckle with as much amusement as one can manage, watching him flinch when the tight hand in his hair tugs harder. he wonders if this is what fear feels like, because surely this powerful feeling dwelling in his stomach and producing full body reactions is not lust. surely he is not lusting this hard for his colleague, and his friend.

your predatory eyes glaze over as he chokes on your cock, and you grip his hair at his scalp, thrusting into his throat and you’re sure you’ve successfully made any and all thoughts flee from his mind.

“you liking this, baby? hm? does my cock in your throat feel good?”

the only response you get are gurgles and useless whines as your cock and his spit clog his mouth, and you just have to grin at your hard work, finding pride in reducing ‘the strongest’ to a whore and a hole.

“thas’ right.. hu- fuck.” you mumble, rolling your hips into his mouth, listening as he chokes and gags each time your head presses into the back of his throat. It’s sloppy, he doesn’t know how to use his mouth for this kind of thing, but his throat closes around you with every gag and every sob he lets out, and he’s making you feel good even with no experience. you just think he is so pretty like this, face all red and messy, but you’re also sure he’ll be even prettier once you stretch him out and fill him up, and you know his noises will be music to your ears when you’re finally able to fuck him, so you pull out, taking advantage of his dazed state, listening to him sputter as you slap your cockhead on his lips.

“get up.” you order, grabbing his arm and aiding him to his feet, before shoving his face into the bed you were previously sitting on, listening as he gasps a deep breath. you waste no time grabbing both of his wrists with one hand while the other yanks his pants and underwear down to his thighs. the sudden movement makes him twitch in surprise, his fingers curling into his palms, a noise between a gasp and a groan leaving his lips as you manhandle his hips, moving him to your liking freely.

“shit, wait!” gojo stumbles over his words, trying to push his hips down and away from your hands, the snap sound of the lube cap somewhat ominous to his muddled brain.

“what?” you ask, bending yourself over his back, resting your chin against his shoulder and letting go of his wrists in favor of pulling his chin up from the bedsheets. “you want me to stop?”

he freezes at the question, something akin to a sob falling from his lips, because he didnt expect you to ask that and he sure as hell doesnt have an answer. if he says no, would that be stripping him of his pride? he’s a man with much dignity and little femininity. if he say’s no, he’s allowing himself to be fucked, which means he can no longer deny the lust and the longing for you, for your cock, but if he says yes, you’ll leave him here- his own member dripping and lonely, your burning touch fading from his body- and with a broken whine, he comes to the conclusion that the former is the better choice, letting himself go slack in your hold.

“no..”

“good boy.” you grin, and he flinches at the cold temperature of the lube pouring onto his hole.

it’s been hours- gojo thinks. hours since you first began prepping him, fingers sinking into his tight hole, stretching it beyond what he thought it could be, hours since you first sank into him, hours since your cock first grazed his prostate, and hours since his descent into becoming a brain dead cock whore began.

“A-auhhg! f-fuck! fuck!” He cries, his noises so loud that they almost drown out the slap of your hips against his ass and thighs, the reddening of them just one aspect of proof of how long you’ve been rutting into him. you wanted to be slow with him, treat him nicely and slowly unfold him beneath you, but these noises, seeing your cock disappear everytime you sink in, and the way his back arches was too good to resist.

you fucked into him harshly and deeply, your red, burning cock bruising his sweet spot with every sharp piston of your hips into his sloppy hole. he’s completely given up trying to save his image, the way he cries and moans and kicks as you take him is clear of that. he no longer cares about anything but you ruining his pretty, puffy hole.

the pace of your hips is so fast, and so rough that he cant register the difference between your thrusts in and your slides out, and he cant do anything but scream, his noises a mix of words, letters, and maybe your name.

through your own groans and puffs of air, you chuckle, something that sounds demeaning to his ears and he shrivels, a loud “n-no!” echoing through the small room, but neither of you know what he’s addressing.

“what’s wrong?” you huff, adjusting your grip on his waist, and leaning forward for a new angle. “HCK- Sh- Ughk!” he chokes, stuffing his face forward into the sheets and you click your tongue, moving your hand around, and pulling him up along with you by his neck, your fingertips squeezing the sides.

“i asked you a question, toru. you too fucked out to answer me properly?”

his breathing is heavy and labored and you laugh at his pathetic state once again. “whatever,” you mumble, letting go of his neck, allowing his upper body to fall onto the bed. “jus’ means im doin’ a good job.”

you grin, pressing a hand down on his back harshly, forcing an arch as you continue to rut into his sloppy hole. gojo yelps under you, his milky thighs shaking with the effort of holding his hips up, his hands gripping onto the sheets beside his head as if they’ll run away. you’re sure he’s cum multiple times untouched now, but every man wants pleasure on his dick, and maybe it was an act of mercy, or maybe it was just your evil mind, but you reached under him, squeezing his cock in your hold, beginning to jerk him off.

at the first feathery touch of your hand, gojo screamed, jolting forward, his legs kicking upwards, desperate hands trying to push yours away from his sensitive, leaking dick as you pound into his hole and jerk him off at the same time. “s-no! shit! cant!”

“you can.” your sentence is punctuated by a slap on his ass and his whole body jumps, his shoulders shaking as he curls into himself, and he looks small.

your thumb rubs over his tip continuously, and his hips buck so harshly your forced to let go, and your hand brushes over his stomach, feeling something that makes your hips stutter, almost pausing in their ministrations.

“fuh-fuck.. ‘toru, no way.” you laugh, bringing him up so his back is flush with your chest and you peer over his shoulder, delivering one deep, harsh thrust into him, confirming the cock bulge in his defined stomach.

a groan erupts from your throat, and theres no time wasted before your pressing him into the bed with your back and your hips, fucking his hole again, but this time- your sly hands rub his stomach, before pressing down with force, right where your cock is, and gojo squeals, his voice high pitched, desperate and messy like a common street whores.

the sound tips you over, your pace slowing, and gojo, as spent as he is, breathes a sigh of relief, taking deep breathes in, before pressing his hand against your abdomen, trying to push your cock out.

“oh? we aren’t done so soon..”

please like and reblog to show your support! this is my first piece of writing, and english is my second language, so i’m a little worried about how its come out. thank you! <3

[glossykissies]

clark and his gf who’s all sad because her friends keep ditching her and he’s trying to make her feel better.

love you so much on both blogs!

i like this as bsf!clark who’s in love with you so he hangs out with you and all your girl friends and is basically apart of your group — just so he can be near to you.

you’d planned a girls night, and clark was fine with that because… well, he had stuff to do around the barn anyway. you’d been excitedly rambling about it all week — buying facemasks, ordering pizza and pulling out the best girly romcom dvds to ensure a perfect night… until they all cancelled.

you were a sweet, sensitive soul who didn’t take well to disappointment, so clark’s heart sank when the phone rang, your best friend picking up only to be met with your snivels.

“look, hey, don’t cry — i’ll come over, okay?” he coo’s, his natural instinct being to coddle you and just hope it didn’t come off as patronising. you usually seemed to like it.

“what— what about the barn? ‘said you were busy with it tonight—”

“ah, the barn can wait.” he blows it off. you can’t see him but you know he waved his hand as he said it as if to convince you even more of its unimportance. “my old man’ll understand. he thinks you’re a total angel. infact i think he’d be more mad at me if i didn’t go to see you.”

you sniff, twiddling pathetically with the phones curly wire. “well… if you’re sure…”

“completely sure. i’ll be over there as fast as i can.”

clark was a little too excited, having to convince himself not to use his super speed.

he didn’t expect you to be so upset however, ending up beside you on the couch with a hand on your back as you cried. he knew it would be rude to ask if your emotions had anything to do with your menstruation cycle, he wanted to slap himself for even thinking of it — but he wondered if that had a part to play.

“i just feel like i always put in effort with people but there’s always something more important.” you rant, swiping beneath your eyes in frustration. clark shuffles closer, tentatively placing a hand on your back.

“mhm?” he urges you on in a gentle tone, hoping to ease you into a more relaxed mood.

“i was excited.” you pout, turning to face him — seeming to be at the end of your meltdown. he presses his lips together with a sympathetic smile.

“yeah, i figured. i mean, look at all this effort you went through setting this up.” clark validates you, lifting a hand to gesture to the way you’d decorated the living room with snacks and movie options, blankets strewn across the couch creating a comfortable atmosphere. “i suppose we’ll have to enjoy it just the two of us.” he grins, mindful of his tone — not wanting to seem like he wanted to take advantage of this situation, even if he secretly did.

“you’ll even do facemasks with me?” you let a smile slip, peering up at him through wet eyelashes. he grimaces like he’s pretending to think about it as you giggle, now being the one to shuffle closer to him.

“you gonna put cucumbers on my eyes?”

“oh yes, the full spa experience.” you tease, and clark can’t help but reach up and brush the final tear off your cheek with a fond smile. you lean happily into his hand, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“i’m lookin’ forward to it.”

clark effortlessly takes your mind off things, a natural at distracting you with dumb dad jokes, debating over pizza toppings and lastly making silly observations about the rom-com you’d landed on.

you’re sleepy — clark had noticed you always got sleepy after eating a big meal, and after tearing through copious amounts of pizza you’d allowed yourself to lay on his chest, tired eyes glued to the screen as he strokes your back, afraid to even breathe wrong incase you come to your senses and crawl off him.

you couldn’t help it, he was just so big and warm — it would be a waste for him to take up all that space and for you not to use it. you figured you were close enough to cuddle anyway, thigh cocked up in a half straddle on his lap, sleepily giggling at a point he made.

“i just don’t get why the main love interest is being played by a forty year old.” he shrugs and you chortle harder against him.

“y’so warm.” you muse out of nowhere, drunk on tiredness. it had to be nearing 2am at this point; and you’d totally let your guard down. you feel his heart skip a beat against your ear.

“uh— really? oh, well… thanks. i think?”

“s’a good thing clarkie.” you shift until you’re looking up at him, faces inches away, body to body. clark licks his lips, brows furrowed slightly as tries (and fails) not to glance at your mouth. “thank you for hanging out with me.”

“y—eah.” he rasps, voice breaking at the low volume. he clears his throat, and you take an extra second longer to look at him before dropping your head back down, body getting heavier over the minutes that pass as you slowly succumb to sleep. clark stays awake, unable to sleep a wink, too consumed by the feeling of you on top of him.

[rivendell-poet]

i absolutely adore ur headcanons posts with the lotr characters but i didn’t know how many characters you take requests for per headcanon post so i’ll keep it very short ehehe

how would the elves (legolas, thranduil, lindir, glorfindel, meludir, haldir and feren) react to human who is just affectionate even before courtship starts? morning hugs, lemme braid ur hair, surprise tackle hugs or see u later forehead kisses? just thought it would be funny to see the elves go beet red with perked up ears since y’know, they’re not as affectionate as humans

thanks so much! (and so sorry for the wait, completely my bad) legit an honour to have you request from me/say you like my works. and I completely agree with the thought being funny, and here it is as headcanons!

(full disclosure, i've written once/not at all for the last three characters - please tell me if they're ooc)

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞��❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « headcanons »

○ Legolas ○ Thranduil ○ Haldir ○ Lindir ○ Meludir ○ Feren ○ Glorfindel ○

GN!Reader | TWs : None | Wordcount : 1.3k

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Depends on if he’s travelled with the Fellowship, or if he hasn’t.

✧ Either way he’ll go still for a second, eyes gently going to you as if to check you’re actually doing what you’re doing. And of course there’s a light blush that’s spreading across his face.

✧ He gingerly hugs you back, unsure whether or not to squeeze you in it like you’re squeezing him. And when you give him a little forehead kiss he simply freezes in your arms. 

✧ Wonders, just for a second, if you somehow started courting and he didn’t realise. Then he simply stays there and gives a smile.

✧ It isn’t forced, just slightly uncertain - he’s never experienced this before.

✧ Later comes up to you and awkwardly thanks you before retreating backwards.

✧ If he’s been in the Fellowship for long enough he starts to reciprocate the gestures on a smaller scale.

✧ Legolas can very easily be convinced to braid your hair as well, and he takes it very seriously.

✧ Lays out his cloak so you can sit on the grass. Does a few small ones so you can see which one is preferable.

✧ When you’re not courting he feels a little guilty doing it - as your hair falls through his fingers it’s almost like you are together. And he doesn’t want to take advantage of that. But he likes you too much to stop, and you braid his hair as well.

✧ Is probably the quickest of the elves to get used to it, aside from Glorfindel.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ In an odd way, he’s one of the elves who craves it the most.

✧ Everyone else has some casual touches, a reassuring gesture by a friend. But no-one is brave enough to touch the King of Mirkwood. Until you.

✧ He’s missed warmth, he’s missed the sense of other people that you can now bring.

✧ Thranduil finds himself at first leaning into the hugs, before remembering that he should be proper. That he’s maintained a colder persona for so long. (He still can’t fully hide his reluctance as he pulls away.)

✧ The people who know him well are surprised when he doesn’t admonish you, before they realise why. You don’t understand why the king is suddenly glaring at someone behind you.

✧ Eventually he starts to return the gestures as well, although to start they are more careful.

✧ As begins to braid your hair - the light touches causing some strands to escape and generally become loose - you remind him that you’re not made of glass.

✧ You’ve been able to almost tackle him with a surprise hug, he can touch you with more than a feather-light weight.

✧ Once the two of you start courting he accepts the gestures more easily, although he’ll never become quite as good at spontaneous physical gestures of affection.

✧ Throughout the entire time he remains impressively blush free, although he does tense quite a lot.

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ You’ve seen how the poor elf froze when Aragorn simply hugged him. He’s very unused to gestures like this.

✧ He does like them - or at least, judging by the way he’ll steadily grow red he thinks he does. Or maybe he simply likes you.

✧ You have almost certainly triggered his fight/flight/freeze instinct on more than one occasion with a surprise hug, although he’s getting better at it. There’s a low chuckle, and a small smile when he realises it’s just you.

✧ People being this naturally affectionate is a curiosity to him, but when it comes from you it’s something he’s eager to know more about.

✧ Although the gestures, the small kiss on your forehead in greeting and such, are at first stiff and uncertain he gets better with them.

✧ Half the time when he’s greeting you with a forehead kiss, his lips really want to ask you ‘what are we?’. Or perhaps kiss yours.

✧ Still, Haldir is content to wait for a while. Even if he freezes up, your gestures still mean so much to him.

✧ Things become clearer when you eventually start courting, and all the affection feels more natural to him.

✧ There’s moments where Haldir simply blushes as he stands next to you, but every day the elf becomes more sure of your bond - and gives more expression to it.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Also blushes a lot, his breath slightly catching before he tries to amend whatever he’s done. A small cough, or perhaps a bow to you in greeting - a vague hope some of the red will have gone when he comes up again.

✧ How you greet him, the quick kisses or the hugs, pulls him straight into romance stories he hasn’t read (or at least acknowledged reading) since he was a young elfling.

✧ And even then the gestures where between those already together, not like the two of you.

✧ Yet he doesn’t ever draw away, finds his gaze lingering on whatever has occurred.

✧ After the first time you’d braided his hair he’d nervously approached you again, asking if you braid it the following day as well.

✧ What you’re doing is unusual, but he can’t bring himself to care. Even the worries he has about seem to dissipate when you smile at him, or say goodbye with a kiss.

✧ Even after you start courting he still can’t stop his face from blushing horribly. Although he no longer hides it - he’s proud to be that deeply in love with you.

𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ When you first meet him, your interaction is brief. Not too many words exchanged as he talks to you, and then again as you disappear. Except for ‘goodbye’ kiss you give him.

✧ It’s feather light, but as an elf he could feel it so clearly. The brush of your lips against his skin, the way your eyes had sparkled. How quickly blush had rushed to his cheeks.

✧ Meludir lifts a hand to the spot you touched him, almost as if expecting something. But there is nothing, just the memory of your affection.

✧ Unlike the other elves, he can’t help but try to seek out your affection. Returning a friendly kiss with a gesture of his own, even if he can’t quite bring himself to kiss you back.

✧ There’s always a smile on his face after you’ve done something, big or small, and a sprinkling of blush to accompany it.

𝐅𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧

✧ The first time you do such a gesture to him he’s quite certain that it’s by mistake.

✧ The second time you do it, or something similar, you can see him freeze for a second (trying to process it) before he turns to you. Almost confused, trying to understand why.

✧ Feren eventually just accepts it, although that doesn’t stop him from getting slightly flustered.

✧ As a diplomat the brief kisses, the friendly greetings aren’t too bad. He can adapt, he can get used to this new social interaction. What he can’t get used to is the more intimate gestures of affection.

✧ You truly see him flustered for the first time when you offer to braid his hair. The way he looks to you, words suddenly gone as you smile at him.

✧ It’s also these interactions he craves more than anything else.

𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐥

✧ There is a small part of you that’s, quietly, intimidated by the golden warrior. But when he laughs with you, a rich, lighter laugh than you expected accompanied by a radiant smile, you realise you have nothing to be afraid of.

✧ Still, the goodbye hug you give him is slightly shy.

✧ There’s a moment where he simply lets you hug him, before he ever-so-gently returns the gesture; careful to be light and to not trap you.

✧ The smile he had on his face is still there when you pull away, which gives you a little more confidence.

✧ And Glorfindel is so happy you have the confidence. He’ll still blush when you’re affectionate, but it’s more because he likes you than he’s embarrassed.

✧ (One exception is the kisses, which do turn his ears red. He still looks forward to them from you, however.)

✧ Will return quite a few of the gestures, although like Thranduil you have to remind him that you’re not made of glass.

A/N : Comes back to drop this fic with no explanation, leaves immediately again- Just kidding. I should be back again, sorry for the long wait; I've been very ill & then my laptop broke, so. 2025 been going... interestingly

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[youryanderedaddy]

Tw: female reader, hinted captivity, attempted murder, hinted non - con, condescension

"Go on, do it."

He looks at you through half - closed eyes, an almost playful, yet condescendingly tiny crooked smile biting at his lips, threatening to spill into a self assured grin. Your hand shakes along with the bread knife - you almost drop it entirely, but his hand grabs your wrist and forcefully steadies your movements. A hot bubbling humiliation burns your swollen throat, but you can't bring yourself to flinch away.

"I mean, it's pretty dull - are you going to kill me or make me a fucking sandwich, doll?" He barks out a cold laugh, an ugly ringing sound that only serves to make you even more disoriented. The man takes advantage of your distress, roughly gripping your hips in, and you realize with dread the position you're in. Your thighs are spread across his lower body in a pose that is way too intimate for murder, and with each passing moment you can feel his length harden underneath you. The knife feels slippier and slipplier.

"Here, I'll make it easier for you, darling." He whispers with voice too sweet for those words. Before you can do anything to stop him he takes your hand and positions the sharp end of the knife over his left breast. "Feel my heart. It beats just for you." He taunts, tone silky and seductive, assured, completely in control. "Now stab it." His delicate features twist into a sinister grimace.

You take a deep breathe. He's playing with you. He's playing with you just like a cat would with a mouse, yet... you can't just let this opportunity pass. This might be your last chance at escape - so you feel the softness of his skin, the curve of his collarbone that peeks just slightly under his blue shirt. The flesh is warm and pumping blood at speed that feels so awfully alive. The body laying under you is painfully human - even if it belongs to the one you detest with everything you have. You hold his life in your palm right now - you can easily reach and squeeze his thin neck or dig the blade into his chest as many time as your soul may desire. You can press your hand against his mouth or thrust your fingers deep inside his throat until he chokes on his own spit. You can do it. You'd be a fool not to. It's you or him. Either you walk out alive or he drags you down to his own personal hell. You know it. He knows it. And yet your body just won't move. It's useless to struggle - as long as he keeps those deep black eyes on you, you turn to stone.

"Aww, getting cold feet now, are we? You must really love me after all." The man cooes at you playfully, gripping both your wrists in one go. You drop the knife, breaking into a cold sweat. "This was quite adorable, you know?" He pinches your cheek, softly patting it. All colour drains from your face - you failed, again. "Got me all hot and bothered here with your little rebellious stunt, didn'tcha?" He forces you to feel his crotch, and before you know it you're flipped on your back.

"Guess it's my turn now, pretty girl. Brace yourself."

[steddiealltheway]

After Eddie seems to become a staple member of the group, Steve pulls him aside and says, "Hey, I just wanted to warn you that I can be a bit bitchy at times, and don't be afraid to tell me if I ever go too far. Dustin calls me out all the time."

Eddie softly smiles and lays a gentle hand on Steve's arm. "My friends have to tell me when I go too far with flirting, so you can call me out on that too. No worries."

Steve's head spins a bit. Eddie 'The Freak' Munson goes too far when flirting? He snorts. "I don't think you'd ever go too far with me."

Eddie's head tilts to the side as he takes Steve in. "You don't believe me." It's more of a statement than a question.

"I don't," Steve confirms. "But hey, I'll let you know if something you say makes me cream my pants."

Eddie smiles wide. "You know, my words might not, but I know something else that will if you're down later."

Steve feels himself take in an involuntary deep breath as the shock reaches his system. Instead of letting Eddie in on it, he leans in and says, "I'll let you know."

Eddie's eyes flicker down to his lips, and Steve is reminded of the hand on his arm as it squeezes hard for a moment. "You're so damn pretty, big boy. Would love to see you absolutely wrecke-"

"Guys."

Steve's head whips around to where the rest of the group is staring at them. He's not sure when they racked up an audience.

"Steve here said I couldn't go too far with the flirting. I'm giving him a first-hand experience with it," Eddie says shamelessly while wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

"I still don't think you can," Steve says turning to him which is the wrong thing to do because he didn't realize how close Eddie was to him.

The other boy takes advantage of it and leans in a little closer, brushing his nose against Steve's. "Is that a challenge?"

His heart beats hard in his chest, but Steve isn't one to back down, so he lets his hand come up to cup Eddie's jaw. "If you want it to be," he replies.

Eddie seems to falter a bit at this, and his own breathing rate increases.

"Guys," Dustin says again but more exasperated.

Steve turns to him and quickly says, "One more interruption and I'll throw you through another gate."

"Woah, too far," Dustin says, pointing at him and Eddie, "Both of you."

Steve holds his hands up and takes a step away from Eddie. “Alright. Okay. I’m sorry. Too far.”

Dustin nods and turns back to the group.

Steve thinks that’s the end of things until Eddie leans in and whispers, “We’ll chat later, sweetheart.”

He tries not to have a physical reaction to him. He doesn’t know why his flirting is taking him so off guard. But it’s nice to have someone who can keep up with the Harrington charm.

Maybe.

Later that night, Steve is surprised when Eddie doesn’t stick behind and keep his promise. But it gives him a minute to breathe after all the flirty winks and innocent fleeting touches whenever Eddie would pass him.

He tries to just shake it off as a normal reaction to being the target of such intense flirting that he's not sure he's ever experienced before. But it feels like something more than that.

He sleeps it off and doesn't think much of it especially when he gets into his Family Video routine. Then, the bell to the front door rings, and Steve launches into his, "Welcome to Family Video," speech which is quickly cut off when he sees Eddie walk in.

Nothing is really different except he has his hair pulled back into a messy bun that makes Steve's hands flex wanting to touch. Shit.

"Hi gorgeous," Eddie says with a bright smile, leaning across the counter.

Steve feels a blush creep up his neck and spread across his face. "Hi," he replies. Then he remembers their little challenge and doesn't hold back from reaching up, tucking a stray curly strand behind Eddie's ear. "You should wear your hair like this more often. Lets me see more of you."

It's Eddie's turn to blush as he glances down with a soft smile.

"So, what brings you in today? Not that I'm complaining, I would take any excuse to see that pretty face of yours," Steve says, laying it on heavy.

Eddie snorts as if he's joking.

Steve uses his hand to softly tilt Eddie's jaw so he can look at him. "I'm not kidding," he insists, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip slowly. Shit, he has such soft lips.

Eddie's lips move forward as if on impulse, quickly kissing the pad of his finger. His eyes widen, and Steve sees the way both of their breath hitch in their chests.

"Too far?" Eddie asks quietly.

"Not even close."

Eddie holds his gaze for a moment, searching for something. He must not find it because he pulls back a bit, putting more space between them than Steve wants. "I was just stopping by to see you," Eddie confesses.

"Yeah? Why's that?" Steve asks with a smile.

Eddie shrugs. "Just wanted to."

It takes Steve back a bit. He was expecting some sort of line, but the response sounds entirely genuine. He doesn't know how to respond.

Eddie fidgets with his rings for a moment before saying, "Well, I'll see you later." He turns quickly and leaves before Steve has a chance to respond.

"Okay, what the hell was that?" Robin asks, startling Steve.

"Shit," Steve says, laying a dramatic hand over his chest. "How long have you been listening?"

"Considering I've been literally right behind you this entire shift and you guys didn't even try to make that a private conversation, I listened the whole time."

Steve runs a hand through his hair and says, "I basically challenged him yesterday to try to be too much when he flirts because apparently he can do that. But yeah, it's no big deal." He smiles and shakes his head as if it's clear as day that this is not affecting him at all.

Robin stares at him for a second before jabbing her finger into his chest repeatedly. "Don't you lie to me! I'm your best friend! You were totally flirting back and you got flustered! No one does that to you!"

"Ow!" Steve says, backing away after a particularly hard jab. "Okay! Okay! Yes, it's flustering me a bit, but I've never had someone who could keep up with me."

"Gross."

Steve rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."

He resumes stacking his tapes until Robin scoots in next to him and says, "You know, it's okay if it's more than that."

Steve pauses and thinks about it. Is it more than that? He shakes his head and whispers, "I don't know if it is."

Robin's arms slowly wrap around his waist, and Steve leans his head on top of hers. Maybe the flirting has gone too far already, but he doesn't want it to end. And that's a scary thought.

He finishes out his shift, thinking about what Robin said while trying to interpret his own feelings. After they close, Steve drives Robin home and heads back to his house. Only, he makes a split-second decision and takes a different turn, heading toward Eddie's new place.

Might as well figure this out now.

He rushes to the side of his new trailer and taps on his bedroom window. The curtains open and Eddie looks at him confused. Steve mouthes Is your uncle home?

Eddie shakes his head and points to the front door before closing the curtains.

Steve rushes to the door and steps inside as soon as Eddie opens it. He closes it behind him and looks at Eddie. God, his heart races even when he doesn't say anything.

"Hi," Steve says with a big smile.

"Hi," Eddie replies, pulling his hair in front of his face.

"No bun?" Steve asks.

"I can put it up if you like."

Steve shakes his head. "No, it looks great."

Eddie smiles and steps closer to him, running a hand through Steve's hair. "Not everyone can have such luscious hair as you."

Steve closes his eyes and leans into the hand. It feels nice.

"So, are you taking me up on my offer from before?" Eddie asks.

Steve opens his eyes and takes in the flirtatious glint in his eyes. "Depends on what you're offering."

Eddie moves in closer and puts his hands in his pockets. "Anything that you'd like."

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie's shoulders and flirts back, "Anything?"

Eddie's hands wrap around his waist. "Anything."

"Kiss me then."

Eddie freezes in his arms, the flirtatious look leaving his face as he looks at him. "Steve..."

"Too far?" Steve asks, not stepping back.

Eddie looks at his lips and back at his eyes. "You know I could never say no to you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Eddie says, leaning forward, brushing his nose against Steve's. He waits a moment and whispers, "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," Steve says, moving forward to meet Eddie, connecting their lips in a kiss that makes Steve realize this is definitely more than just a challenge.

His hands move into Eddie's hair, trying to bring him closer as Eddie's hands trail up and down his back, pressing into him.

Steve breaks the kiss, breathing deeply before going right back in, deepening the kiss when he feels Eddie's tongue trace the seam of his lips.

Shit, he needs to make sure this isn't just him flirting.

He slows the kiss and gently pulls away, only for Eddie to kiss him again, pulling him in even closer, only breaking away when Steve breaks the kiss again and rests his forehead against Eddie's.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and says, "Please, let me just stay in this a little longer before it has to end."

Steve's heart thuds in his chest as he works up the courage to ask, "Does it have to end?"

Eddie slowly pulls away and looks at him. "Steve, that was too far and we both know it."

"What if it wasn't?" Steve asks.

Eddie looks at him with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and maybe even sorrow. "It was for me."

Oh. Steve steps back a bit and nods, running both his hands through his hair. He pauses and looks at Eddie who looks unbelievably scared. There's no way he thinks that he didn't enjoy that... right? "Eddie-"

"Don't, Steve. It's fine. I won't tell anyone."

Steve shakes his head and steps forward, only for Eddie to step back in fear. "Eddie, you can't seriously think this was just me seeing how flirtatious you can be, right? At least, that's not what it was to me."

"It's not?"

"No," Steve says and steps forward again, "Look, I don't know what changed, but from the first moment you started flirting with me, it's felt like more than a challenge. And yes, maybe it's been less than a full day since then, but I really like you. And I don't want the flirting to be fake anymore."

Eddie takes a second to process what he's saying then asks, "This isn't flirting going way too far, right?"

Steve shakes his head. "No."

Eddie smiles. "So, you're saying that my flirting worked?"

"If you agree to go on a date with me, then yes."

Eddie's face lights up. "I'll say yes if you still promise to tell me if it ever goes too far."

"Like I said, I don't think it ever could."

"And I think it can, my fuzzy wuzzy bear."

Steve's nose scrunches in disgust while Eddie stares at him with a manic smile, waiting to hear his reaction. "Okay! Too far! That was horrible."

"I know," Eddie says with a laugh. "And you still want to go out with me?"

"Yes," Steve says without hesitation, "But please, no more horrible nicknames or I'll find out what's too far for you."

Eddie winks. "I look forward to it."

Steve laughs while shaking his head before he pulls Eddie into another kiss.

And while Eddie never really goes too far with Steve, the kids and Robin chime in often to alert Eddie when they've had enough. But it never seems to stop him.

[lettuceonthecourt]

Yandere bully who sees you in a dingy bar on a random Thursday night, sitting all alone and downing your sorrows away. His friends had invited him out, what with the term ending and exams having been wrapped up.

It's the only time he sees you not cowering in fear when you find him entering the same room as you, discreetly glancing at him at the corner of your eyes, internally praying that he doesn't approach you and make your life even more miserable (ps. It didn't work)

After taking a few more drinks, you shakily stand up to leave, and halfway across the bar, one of his friends spots you and whistles,

"Hey, aren't you the girl that our dear friend here keeps obsessing over? Come on, sit with us, I'll treat you to a few!"

The rest of his group chuckles, clearly seeing how you can bearly walk 3 steps ahead of you without bumping into a nearby chair, but still asked to drink even more. You don't react, not wanting to be taken advantage of by his scheming friends, but when their taunts get more forceful, you try to make your hasty escape, as fast as you can walk without falling over and without breaking into a run.

Yandere bully whose heart clenches in his chest, eyes growing darker by the second as his friends tell him to "invite his girl over for some fun" and slamming his hand on the table, effectively silencing the entire table, he strolls towards you, looping an arm around your neck and muttering "walk with me".

He takes you outside the bar, and in a split second, he pushes your back to the nearest wall. if you were more sober, you would have protested and flailed helplessly in his arms, but today, you don't find yourself caring, intend on letting everything out.

"Why didn't you push them away, huh? You always seem to rebel against me but now you don't care?" His voiced laced with a hint of desperation, and eyes borderline pleading, comes out quietly. You find yourself amused, what did he expect?

"YOU were the one who decided to ruin my life by seeking me out to relieve your stress, and now you're blaming me for not fighting back?!"

Your fist easily finds his chest with as much power as you can draw while being drunk, and you lower your head, not wanting him to see the tears slide down your cheeks. You subtly brace yourself for impact, knowing he would usually hit back whenever you lashed out, so when a hand gently smears your tears over your cheeks, you flinch and look up at him in shock.

His eyes dilate over the sight of you, and he wants to sear this image of you in his eyelids so that he would be able to look at it all the time. He feels his pants grow tighter and a mix of arousal and amusement rush through him as he vows to never let anyone else see this side of you that only he should be able to bring out

Secretly, he thanks his past self for threatening all your friends at the start of his bullying, chasing them away, and leaving him as the only thing on your mind, taking up all your attention.

Seeing your drunken state, he gleefully smiles as he secures a tight grip on your wrist. He could leave his friends for now, and lay his claim, his mark, and his touch on you, for you to think about when you wake up next to him tomorrow morning

"Come on doll, let me bring you somewhere. You won't disagree, would you?"

A/n: pls don't romanticize these relationships irl and pls don't steal my work

[puckinghischier]

https://www.tumblr.com/puckinghischier/766626512832266240/hiiiiii-ive-come-to-beg-for-crumbs-lol-seeing

thinking about this for no reason tonight…quinn getting home extra pissed bc he got ejected and you aren’t helping, prancing around in only his jersey doing everything you can to get him to take his anger out on you again

you watched the whole thing happen from the tv in the hotel room, choosing to stay in tonight because it was so cold out. you hate to say it, but you were turned on the second you saw him looking down at the player on the ice, jabbing his stick around after the play had already stopped.

you knew he’d be back early, having already texted you that he’s forgoing any media because he just wants a hot shower and some greasy take out. you had other plans, however. you knew he’d have some pent up feelings. he always tries to hide how frustrated he really is, not wanting to set a bad example for any young captains or players watching. so, you decide to use it to your advantage.

you strip yourself from your clothes, walking over and rummaging through quinn’s game bag. you find the clean, black, skate jersey tucked away inside, and slip it over your bare body. you sprawl yourself out across the large bed, jersey ridden up just enough so your ass peeks out. you lay there in wait, wanting to be nothing more than his stress reliever tonight.

when he finally makes his way into the room, he tosses his bag down at the door and stalks towards the bathroom. he doesn’t even look your way, shutting the door and turning the shower on. shock and disappointment clouds your features, a small bit of embarrassment settling in your stomach. you stay put, though. waiting. surely when he sees you, he’ll pounce.

he emerges from the small bathroom twenty minutes later, towel wrapped around his waist. he looks at you on the bed, noticing your state.

“why are you wearing my skate jersey?” he asks, not hinting at whether he’s pleased or not.

you shrug. “just…felt like it,” you try to sound sultry and seductive, letting him know what you want.

he stands and stares for a moment before shaking himself out of the trance, walking over to grab a pair of black boxer briefs from his suitcase, dropping the towel and sliding them up his legs before you can even appreciate his bare ass on display.

“did you find anywhere that’s still open and sounds good? m’starving,” he asks you, not bothering to put sweats or a shirt on.

“not yet…didn’t know if maybe you wanted something…sweeter to eat,” you roll over, spreading your legs slightly, giving him a glimpse of your damp pussy.

he sighs out, closing his eyes and pinching his nose while tilting his head up. your embarrassment creeps back in, picking up that he clearly doesn’t want to do this tonight.

you sit up, tugging his jersey down to cover yourself, cheeks flushed and eyes stinging with oncoming tears you will yourself not to drop.

“s-sorry. i’ll…uh…go look up some menus on my phone,” you whisper out, not meeting his eyes as you stand.

you don’t see the way his eyes snap open to look at you, the embarrassed and dejected tone causing alarms to go off in his head.

he reaches out and grabs your arm as you try to walk past him, stopping you in your tracks. placing both hands on your biceps under his jersey, he turns your body to face his, a soft “look at me,” forcing your attention to his face.

he brings a hand up to push a strand of hair out of your face, letting his hand trail down your face before finding its previous spot on your arm.

“m’sorry, didn’t mean to embarrass you. s’just…not this time,” he tells you, squeezing the soft flesh of your arms.

you nod, but you need to know if it’s you, or if he’s just really not in the mood. “was…,” you trail off, not knowing if you can handle the answer if it’s not in your favor. “was the jersey too much? just thought, i don’t know…you always say how much you like seeing me in them, and figured you’d need some…stress relief after tonight, so…” you leave the sentence open ended, assuming he understands what you’re not saying.

he chuckles out a dry laugh. “baby, i love seeing you in my jerseys so much, you have no idea,” he lets his gaze travel down to the way your body is swallowed by the black fabric. “but, i don’t trust myself with you tonight,” he confesses, looking back up at your surprised face.

“quinn, i trust you. i do. i know you’d never go too far, or do anything i wasn’t comfortable with,” you rush out, your hands flying up to grip both of his forearms.

he shakes his head, letting it drop. “sweetheart, you have no idea how much i’d love to have my way with you tonight, but i’m so pissed off. so mad at how tonight went. and the fact the team acted like they didn’t even need me?” you can see his eyes darkening the longer he talks, his grip on your arms tightening with each word. “can’t promise what would happen. how rough i’d be. don’t want to hurt you, or worse, scare you off,” he snaps out of his little trance, his grip loosening, but not before you whimpered at the burning squeeze.

it’s your turn to shake your head at him, hands leaning his arms to touch his face.

“q, please, i promise you won’t scare me off, or hurt me. i know my limits, and so do you. i trust you. trust yourself,” you plead with him.

you can tell he’s thinking it over, watching the conversation he’s having with himself in his head.

“i-are you sure?” he asks, looking into your eyes for any sign of doubt.

“use me,” is all you say in response, leaning up on the tips of your toes to whisper the words in his ear seductively. for good measure, you lick a stripe from his ear down his jaw and to the base of his throat.

the growl that erupts from where your tongue was just exploring is carnal, shoving you back from his body towards the bed. the force catches you off guard, falling onto your back on the plush surface.

he walks the short steps towards you, hovering over you. “tell me to stop at any time, okay?” he speaks softly, but with meaning, wanting you to know you’re still the one who’s really in control here.

you nod, sighing out a “okay,” as he rests a large hand on your thigh, sliding it all the way up to your chest, bringing the jersey with it.

he teasingly pinches a nipple, earning a moan from you as you arch your back into the sensation. he looks down at your face, loving how desperate you already are for him.

“remember, you asked for this,” he reminds you, causing your breath to hitch in your throat at the hungry, dark look on his face.

‘sure did,’ you think to yourself, knowing if last time was anything to go off of, tonight, coming off of an ejection rather than a simple minor penalty, you were in for a treat.

[sluttywonwoo]

heat stroke

pairing: song mingi x f!reader

summary: they say laughter is the best medicine… but dick is pretty good too. (insp by ye hao in gq china’s heat stroke bc mingi’s wearing the same shirt 😵‍💫)

warnings: swearing, reader is sick, smut 18+ ; mdni (warnings under the cut)

word count: 1.8k

smut warnings: unprotected sex, creampie

“how’s that feel?” mingi asks as he lays the damp washcloth across your forehead.

"feels good, thank you," you sigh, smiling softly.

"of course, my love," he responds. your eyes are still closed but you can hear him smiling too. "i'm sorry you aren't feeling well."

"s'okay," you mumble.

your boyfriend makes a sound of disagreement. "you work too hard. it's run you ragged."

"no, it's just this time of year," you argue.

"what, the middle of the summer? don't people usually get sick in the fall and the winter?"

you shrug noncommittally. "i dunno."

"mmmm, i think it's what i said," he continues, knowing you're too weak to put up much of a fight. "you have to promise me you won't jump right back into work once you start feeling better, okay? you've gotta take it slow."

"yeah, yeah."

mingi sighs but he doesn't push any further. you're already feeling crummy, you don't need his badgering on top of that.

"is there anything else i can get you, baby? anything else you need?"

you seem to think about it for a moment before answering. " will you hold me?"

he softens and cups your cheek with his palm, thumb tracing your cupid's bow. "always."

mingi rounds the bed and crawls under the covers behind you, wrapping an arm around your middle as he spoons you. he can feel your fever radiating from your body, manifested into heat that engulfs the entire bed.

"god, you're warm," he murmurs.

"i know, i'm sorry."

"no, no, baby don't apologize. i know you can't help it. feels good, to be honest."

"you don't have to lie," you grumble.

"i like it! i promise!"

he does like it. just like he likes being close to you like this. he hates that you're sick but he enjoys getting to take care of you- something he doesn't often get the chance to do because of how stubbornly independent you are. you're barely letting him look after you now. you only relented and allowed him to when the doctor told you that you weren't contagious, and even so, you're still hesitant to accept his help.

mingi sighs contentedly and pulls you further into him, resting his chin on your shoulder. he expects you to fall back to sleep since you've been drifting in and out of it for most of the afternoon and you always sleep better when he's holding you, but after a few minutes of laying there, you start to shift in his grasp, twisting around like you're uncomfortable.

"what is it?" mingi asks, kissing your neck softly. "is something wrong?"

you shake your head but you don't stop moving against him either and it suddenly dawns on him why you asked him to 'hold you' in the first place. "babe, what are you doing?"

"nothing..."

"it doesn't feel like nothing."

you whine quietly, knowing you've been caught. "touch me?"

your boyfriend clicks his tongue. “baby, i don’t think that’s a good idea. you're sick!"

"i'm feeling better," you insist.

"you’re still burning up. we don’t want to make your fever worse with any strenuous activity. not to mention, you’re supposed to be resting.”

“i rested all day!”

“yeah, that’s how being sick works, dork. you gotta give your body time to heal itself.”

mingi thinks he hears you grumble something about how it’s had plenty of time already but he doesn’t quite catch it.

“we can have all the sex you want when you’re back to a hundred percent, okay?” he offers.

you don’t seem pleased with his proposal but it’s not like you have another choice.

“will you kiss me at least?” you ask pitifully.

you’ve craned your neck back to look at him, using the pout you know he can’t resist to your advantage. predictably, mingi folds like a lawn chair.

“of course, baby.” he softens as he places a hand on your neck to pull you close and leans in.

it’s just a chaste peck at first but it’s searing nonetheless. your poor lips are cracked and dry even though mingi’s been trying his best to keep you hydrated. they feel like they’re on fire, burning an imprint that mingi can l feel on his own lips once he pulls away.

you don’t let him off that easily though, and chase the kiss until he finally relents and kisses you back so you don’t strain yourself. by that point you’re practically on top of him, straddling one of his thighs as you moan into his mouth.

“you’re hard,” you point out once you finally come up for air this time.

“you were pushing your ass back into me and now you’re trying to make out with me, obviously i’m going to be hard,” your boyfriend mutters.

it also doesn’t help that you’re grinding on his thigh and he can feel the wet heat of you through your panties.

he knows you’re aching for him and he feels guilty having to turn you down but the last thing he wants is for you to feel worse because of him.

“we could do something about that,” you suggest.

“i can do something about that later,” he amends. “try to sleep.”

"what if i just lay there and let you do all the work?"

"oh, so you mean normal sex for us?"

"i would smack you if i had the strength to."

"it was a joke! you know it was a joke!"

you cough weakly. "i'm sick, you're supposed to be nice to me."

"i am being nice to you," he insists, "i'm taking such good care of my girl, aren't i?"

"you could be taking care of her in other ways too," you point out.

mingi groans. "you're insufferable."

"your fault for having a perfect cock."

"oh, it's my fault?"

"yeah, that's what i just said."

mingi tongues his cheek. "still feeling well enough to be a brat, huh?"

"always."

"and you're sure you're feeling well enough for sex?"

you nod against him. "yes, baby. please?"

"what if i just touch you down here," he asks lowly, shifting his weight to lay you back on your back so that he can slip a hand beneath the waistband of your panties.

you suck in a breath as his fingers find your clit and start to circle it with practiced ease. he keeps the pressure of his fingertips light, touching you the way he does when he's trying to get you worked up, knowing you're already way past that point. he can't help teasing you a little, wanting to get back at you for being such a menace.

"mingi," you whine, pushing your hips up to meet his hand.

"you're not supposed to move, remember?" mingi chides.

"you're making it hard on purpose," you protest.

"you're one to talk," he mutters. "you don't want me to get you off with my fingers?"

"i want your dick."

mingi pretends not to hear you at first but he only plays with you a few moments longer before he relents, sliding his hand back out from your underwear and sucking his fingers clean.

"fine, but we're going slow," he says. "and if you start feeling any worse you have to tell me, okay?"

"i will," you promise.

"atta girl."

he pushes back the covers just a little and removes the washcloth from your forehead, folding it before placing it on the nightstand. you watch him yank down his sweats and spit into his palm, stroking himself a couple of times before positioning his body over yours.

"aren't you going to take them off?" you ask, glancing down at your own underwear.

"nah," your boyfriend answers. "just gonna pull 'em to the side. this won't take long."

you don't get the chance to tell him off for his smug comment because he kisses you as soon as the words leave his lips, pulling your panties to the side just like he said he would and slipping the tip of his cock inside of you. you're so wet that there's barely any resistance when he pushes in further but you still gasp at the feeling of being stretched around him.

mingi checks in with you as soon as he bottoms out, panting only slightly as he asks, "feel okay, baby?"

"better than okay," you moan. "h-how does it feel for you?"

he doesn't know how to put it into words. it's incandescent, the heat of you, engulfing him entirely.

"different," is what he manages to choke out.

"bad different?"

"no... fuck no. it's- your pussy is so hot. your fever..."

your eyes seem to widen with the realization.

"does it hurt?'

"no, baby, it feels good," he assures you, "feels fucking really good."

you whine and try to push your hips up into his again, desperate for him to fuck you harder, but he's quick to stop you with a hand to your chest.

"we had an agreement," mingi mutters. "you're supposed to just lay there and take it like a good girl, or i'll stop."

you mumble out a half-assed apology and mingi chuckles. "it's okay, i know it feels good. but we don't want you to end up feeling worse later on."

"i know, you're right."

"let me make it up to you," he murmurs, snaking one of his hands down in between your bodies so that he can rub your clit again.

your reaction is immediate. you get even tighter around him and let out a gasp that turns into a whimper.

"gonna cum?" he asks, grinning when you nod. “told you it wouldn’t take long.”

his confidence is honestly unmatched for someone who’s also hanging on by a thread. but how could he not be confident when he has you dripping onto the sheets, when he has you begging him to fuck you even when you’re achy and fever-ridden.

“cum on me, cum all over my cock,” he urges, willing himself to last long enough to fuck you through it.

somehow he finds the strength and staves off his own orgasm until you're crying his name and gushing around him. he's careful not to crush you when he cums, holding himself up on shaky arms as he fills you.

as soon as the room has (mostly) stopped spinning, mingi's badgering you with questions. the post-nut clarity has him rethinking everything. he shouldn't have let you convince him to fuck you. he should have had more self-control.

"how are you feeling? was that okay? was it too much?”

“it was perfect,” you promise him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "thank you for taking care of me."

he breathes a sigh of relief and lets his head drop back on the pillow. "anything for you, baby. i'll get a towel to clean you up, and another one for your head. you get some sl-" he's interrupted by a soft snore before he can finish his sentence. you'd beaten him to the punch and fallen asleep almost immediately after he had taken your hand. you were one step ahead, like always.

[alpali]

hello can i please request a timeskip!kenma taking care of sick f!reader who’s got high fever but refuses to go to the hospital so kenma just takes care of her at home and its just basically pure fluff cute cutesy things and reader takes advantage of being sick to get more attention from kenma hehe and can you plzzz write it as long as possible please? Ik there isn’t much to it but can you please try to write as much as you can IF you can no pressure at all and its okay if you refuse really thankful for you anyways!<3

You woke up feeling like absolute shit. Your head pounding, body weak, breaking into a sweat. Your eyes are lidded, you sit up with your head swaying.

“Ken?” You call out. You’re panting as your clothes stick to you. Your lips purse as you call out for your boyfriend again. He pokes his head in with a smile yet it falls at the sight of you.

“Hey? Are you good?” He says softly but with concern. He gasps when he feels how hot to touch you are.

“Babe you’re burning up.” His brows pull together.

“Come on we should take you to the hospital.”

But you shake your head.

“No, please Ken I wanna stay home.” You pout and god he knew he shouldn’t listen to you but with your state right now, all he can tell you is ok.

“Okay lay down for me.” He instructs and you do.

“Were you about to stream.” You rasp out and he hums.

“Yea but you’re crazy if you think I’m leaving you like this.” He frowns and you smile.

“I’m gonna grab a few things okay? Try and get some rest.” You hum, letting your eyes fall close.

When Kenma comes back from the convenience store his arms are full of everything. He sits on your shared bed. Medicine, food, and other remedies scattered across the table next to your guys bed.

He pecks your forehead, his lips heating up at the contact of your skin. He places a rag over your forehead, gently smoothing your hair out. Your eyes meet up at him and he smiles.

“You feeling better?” He holds your hand, his thumb gliding along your knuckles.

“Yea, now that you’re here.” You laugh and he does to, followed by a playful eye roll.

“Let’s get some food in that stomach yea?” You hum and he helps you sit up. Kenma sits you on his lap, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

“You can get sick Ken.” You mumble as he helps you drink your medicine.

“I don’t mind.” He smiles, wiping your mouth. He gives you nutritious snacks, all of what you needed right now.

“Ken you’ll catch it if you stay near me.” You sulk.

Of course you wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by your precious boyfriend. All of this attention you were receiving was making you feel better already. But you couldn’t risk him getting sick.

“I told you it’s fine, don’t worry about me.” He smiles, pecking your head.

“Besides all of the fans know you’re my top priority. I’d kill for a nap right now, what do you think?” He smiles down at you and you nod.

You guys find yourself getting comfy under the covers. His arms fully engulf you in his warm embrace. His hands take through your hair, already lolling you to sleep.

“Rest up baby.” He whispers, pecking your nose as he soon after follows along.

Less than a week later, Kenma is in the same position as you.

“I told you Ken.”

“Yea yea, just come play with me please?”

[machinemonstrosity]

POOL TABLE | chance x reader

WARNINGS - REALLY SUGGESTIVE , nothing full-on but it's heavily implied , making out , ooc chance maybe , he/they used interchangeably for chance

a/n - i didn't mean for my first post on here to be so spicy LOL?? anyways i'm currently stuck on mobile and wrote this in one night, so i'm sorry if the formatting or writing is wonky!

Chance seemed to revel in your mutual back-and-forths.

Innocent flirting often devolved into heated touches and filthy promises, each empty space or backside of a building becoming nothing more than another surface to slam you against or a spare hand to muffle your whimpers. The stakes only rose higher each time they caught you alone — pushing to see what would get an equal amount of pull in his risqué game of cat and mouse.

What could he say? They just simply couldn't keep their hands off of you!

So when it caught on that you were the one who liked to be pulled, all bets were off.

The pool table you were perched atop of rattles slightly as Chance leans in close, the loose contents above audibly jostling. His hand finds your chin, fingers caressing the smooth skin in a slow rubbing motion. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his other hand splayed across your back, the sensation of their bare arms brushing against you being featherlight in nature.

Their unraveled tie lay loosely around their neck, the first few buttons of their suit vest popped open to tease the muscular expanse of his bare chest. His eyes, although obscured by his shades, drift to meet your wide gaze.

“Tell me,” Chance purred. “How long do you think you're gonna be quiet for?”

Your breath hitches.

God, if only he growled like that more often.

Squirming at his touch, the closest thing to a response you could muster was an incoherent garble. Pleased at your pathetic display, their grin widens.

“I thought so.”

Finally closing what little distance was left, Chance's lips crashed into yours. Their mouth moved with fervor, the hand on your chin sliding to the back of your head. They tug on your hair roughly, forcing his way deeper between your lips with a strangled moan.

Tongue swiping across your bottom lip in a demand for entry, it's granted when you attempt to pull back to breathe – only to inevitably be devoured whole again a second later. The slick muscle tangles with yours, exploring your mouth with equal enthusiasm as the rest of his body. Each needy whine and breathless shudder only spurs him on, a wandering hand finding purchase on your thigh.

Squeezing, Chance takes the opportunity to hike their own leg up, knee landing squarely on top of the pool table. The next soon follows, shoving your body further onto the piece of the furniture to accommodate for themselves as he crawls over you.

He uses the advantage to push you down, your back hitting the cloth-covered surface with a hard thud.

Your lips finally separate a moment later, strings of saliva shortly following Chance as he sits up. They chuckle breathlessly as their eyes rove over your writhing form, chest heaving and eyes glossed over in pleasure. Using a thumb, they gently wipe a stray bead of drool from the corner of your lips.

“What's the matter? I thought you liked it rough.” He rasped, hips settling between your own.

Thighs moving to straddle yours, you could already see the belt around their waist loosening.

Tonight was gonna be a long night.

[gingerteafairy]

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆

wrote after reading this fic. @ikkyfics you're my inspiration

You're his boss. He's your problem. Nothing was supposed to happen between you—theoretically.

tags n warnings: smut/mdni, tangerine x fem!reader, language, boss!reader, agent!tangerine, smoking, alcohol, piv, fingering, oral (m!receiving), power kink, praise kink, there's a lot of kinks tbh, aftercare. word count: 4.7k. masterlist

Tangerine was restless. The cigarette burned between his fingers, drawn more out of habit than pleasure, as he struggled to maintain his relaxed posture. But it was impossible when you were near. The mutual disdain hung in the air—like static electricity, ready to ignite at the slightest touch. And Tangerine hated being commanded, especially by you—a woman impatient, sharp-tongued, and cold, with a beauty so cutting it wounded the pride of anyone who came close.

A nightmare dressed as a daydream.

Your heels echoed across the station's stairs, the rhythmic click-clack of them striking against the concrete. The jingle of your earrings, the scent of your perfume—he could smell it even before laying eyes on you. And when your gazes finally met, he suppressed a curse. You were stunning. And that irked him.

"Her job is to be discreet," Tangerine muttered in his distinct British accent, grinding out the cigarette with the tip of his shoe. He could’ve done it on purpose, knowing how much you despised the scent of nicotine. But not today. Today, he had enough problems.

"They never suspect people like that," you shot back, your eyes as sharp as blades. He raised an eyebrow, surprised you’d overheard the snide remark. "Hope you didn’t ruin the notes of my perfume with that cheap cigarette."

"Nothing ruins your perfume or your pride, princess." He dragged out the last word, with that provocative cadence only he could make sound as irritating as it was seductive. He was the only one who dared to call you that. The only one who’d ever challenge your authority.

"Both are built on money and slavery," you hissed, the words dripping from your tongue like venom. You removed your sunglasses with an impatient flick of your wrist and tucked them into your bag. Your fingers ran lazily through your hair, letting it cascade free. Tangerine held his breath for a second—not because he wanted to, but because the expensive fragrance of your hair products hit him like a sucker punch.

He clicked his tongue, his hands sliding into his suit pockets. "There are only three reasons a woman wears sunglasses at night."

You didn’t avert your gaze. "I’m not asking."

He laughed—a low, sardonic laugh that carried a weight of irony. "You’ll hear it anyway."

“Of course, big mouth,” You crossed your arms, and he leaned forward ever so slightly, taking advantage of every inch that narrowed the distance between you.

"Number one, exhaustion. Dark circles so deep no makeup can hide them." He studied your face for a beat. "Which isn’t your case." Your face remained impassive, but your lips pressed into a thin line. "Number two, to avoid being recognized. Could be I’m right…"

You blinked slowly, exasperated. "And the third?"

The subtle shift in your breath didn’t escape him. A tiny slip-up, but enough to make him smile. That damn smile, half amusement, half cruelty.

"Oh? You interested, princess?"

You rolled your eyes, looking for distraction in your bag, pulling out a mirror and lipstick. But it was too late. He’d already read you. "Sometimes, I try to please my employees," you said, cold as ice.

Ah. The power move. The dirty play. But curiously, today, it didn’t bother him. Tangerine pulled out another cigarette, lighting it slowly, each movement meticulously calculated to irritate you. He let the smoke linger, watching the particles dissipate in the cool night air.

"Third reason?" He repeated, leaning in slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. "She was crying."

The blow was direct. And precise. For a moment—just a single, rare moment—you hesitated. "Yeah... maybe."

Tangerine saw it. "Ah..." He exhaled, a victorious edge to his tone. "In the end, it always comes down to you and me, innit?"

You maintained your unreadable expression, taking your time to apply the lipstick with exaggerated calm. But now he knew. And once he knew, he’d use it. Tangerine watched, mesmerized, as the crimson slid slowly across your lips, marking them with careful precision, almost meticulous in its application. The color blended seamlessly with the natural contour of your mouth, perhaps a shade darker, a detail anyone else would overlook—but not him. Tangerine always noticed. Too much.

Shit. The thought came before he could stop it. The drag he took was longer than necessary—not just for the cigarette, but to keep his hands busy while you tucked your tools back into your bag and returned your attention to him.

"You know why I’m here?" Your voice sliced through the silence like a blade, bringing up the subject both of you had been pretending didn’t exist. A hint of disappointment crept into the question, subtle but impossible to ignore.

He turned his face away as he exhaled the smoke, as if to spare you the smell, but deep down, he just wanted to hide the half smile that threatened to appear. “I let someone escape. Theoretically.”

You raised your eyebrow, analyzing him with that look of someone who already knew the answer before he even asked.

“Theoretically?”

He held your gaze, inhaling deeply before answering. “The truth,” he began, taking another drag, “is that he tried to escape. He tried to call the boss. But I intercepted him before he could.”

The word intercepted carried a particular weight on Tangerine’s lips. An implicit code between you. You knew immediately what he meant, and the tension in your shoulders eased slightly.

“Good job.” There was a moment of hesitation, minimal, but Tangerine caught it. The compliment came out of you like something forbidden, almost unwanted. He couldn’t hold back the low, hoarse laugh that followed.

“You’re welcome, little fox.” The nickname slipped from his lips like a dirty joke, steeped in his usual teasing tone, full of blatant flirtation.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re dirty.”

He tilted his head slightly, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Only a fitting name for someone like you. Live up to it and go out with me.” The suggestion came with a mischievous smile, shaped perfectly by the cigarette that balanced between his lips. You laughed sarcastically. 

“You smell like cigarettes.”

“I can shower at the hotel.”

The answer came quickly, effortlessly, as if Tangerine were a master at turning everything into a game of catch and release. He knew he was playing. You knew it too. But still, you smiled. There was no cause or circumstance for that foolish and persistent flirting, but somehow, it always found space to exist. You moved a little closer, making the height difference irrelevant in the face of the tension that vibrated between you.

“I’ve learned that when life gives me lemons, I make lemonade.” Your voice was low, engaging. A challenge.

Tangerine arched an eyebrow, interested. “Oh, really?”

“In your case,” you continued, moving just close enough for him to smell the perfume disguising the nicotine in the air, “I make Tangerine juice.” His smile widened immediately. A spark of something indefinable shone in his eyes. “Is that enough of a threat for you?”

For a moment, Tangerine just watched you. The cigarette dangling from his lips, his mind processing every nuance of your tone, your gaze, your challenge. And then he laughed. That low, insolent, amused laugh.

“I don’t know. Can you take it all?” he retorted, forcing his head down to meet your eyes. You were so much shorter, so much more delicate. Anyone would think you couldn’t handle it. But damn, Tangerine knew you would take everything from him if he let you. And God, he was willing to do that…

“Like a good girl,” you whispered, like perdition itself. His mind working on every dirty scenario he could do to you, completely surrendered to him. Your heels hanging on either side of his face. The only order being ‘faster’. Your mouth opened not to scream, but to moan every letter of his name, savoring as you came undone.

“If you’re so brave, then tell me why you were crying.” Tangerine’s voice came out slurred, firm, unhurried. Another cigarette fell to the ground, crushed under the toe of his shoe and kicked under the carriages, as if the subject were as disposable as the butt. But his eyes said something else.

You clicked your tongue, looking away.

“Nothing at all. Nonsense.”

He remained silent, just watching you, that unshakable confidence reflected in his gaze. And for a second—a measly second—you considered opening up. That irritating, foul-mouthed man had something almost paternal about his posture, in the way he held his broad shoulders as if he were carrying the whole world, but at the same time, he made jokes about everything.

“Family,” you finally let out, in a tone that bordered on tiredness.

Tangerine slowly rolled her neck, cracking her vertebrae, relieving the accumulated tension. “Are you married?” The question came without much weight, but you noticed the way he said it too casually, as if he already knew the answer.

“No.”

The word came out simple, without flourishes. Your fingers slid through his hair, an automatic gesture, while your eyes stopped on him for a second longer than necessary. The suit he wore was not tight, but his muscles were still visible, a discreet reminder of the strength he carried under the appearance of a man always ready to make a joke.

“What a shame,” he muttered, panting before looking away—a well-rehearsed act. Then he turned back to you with that damned playful smile. “I like committed women. I like those little power games. It’s more interesting that way. Married women are powerful.”

You laughed, for real this time. A light, rare, almost forgotten laugh. “That’s a free ticket to death, you know?”

Tangerine shrugged. “What’s the point of our job if we don’t take risks?”

This time, he was the one who observed you, unhurriedly, memorizing every detail. Your genuine smile was something different. More valuable than all the jewelry you insisted on wearing. And maybe that was why you blurted out: 

“That must be why I want to go out with you.”

The admission hung in the air, intentional, but masked by the futile effort to hide the smile that threatened to appear on his cheeks. Tangerine arched an eyebrow, that half smile widening as he looked around, ever on guard. Then he turned his eyes to you, this time more intense.

“Theoretically.” The word was loaded with an unspoken meaning coming out of you.

He held out his hand. “Shall we?”

You hesitated for a moment. Not because you had any doubts, but because you knew exactly what you were getting into.

“Sure.”

And your hand found his. They were rough, hands of heavy, dark work. Hands that you had ordered to work and now they were here, not stained with blood, but mingling between nicotine and your hand cream, brushing against the softness of his touch.

Tangerine raised a hand and hailed a taxi, a simple movement, but loaded with intention. He opened the door for you, a gentlemanly gesture disguised as indifference—but you weren’t naïve. He wanted to watch you a little longer, the way your dress rode up, your soft thighs, and his predatory gaze. You got in first, and he quickly slid into the seat next to you, indicating the first hotel that came to mind in that vibrant immensity that was Tokyo. 

The neon lights danced across the car window, coloring his face with changing hues, sometimes red, sometimes blue. You looked away, taking your time to capture how the light beams shaped his features. Every contour of his jaw, every shadow cast by his mustache, and the deep eyes that, from time to time, slid down to your legs before lazily moving up to meet yours. He was beautiful. Dangerously beautiful. In the literal sense. 

“You’re handsome, Tangerine,” you said, your voice tinged with mischievous amusement. “Charming.” His eyes narrowed slightly, surprised by the sudden compliment, but not enough to hide the obvious appreciation as he stared at you.

“Three compliments in one day?” He arched his eyebrow, his mouth curving into that half smile filled with mischief. “I don’t even recognize you.”

“I like to please my slaves.”

Slowly, he placed his hand on your knee, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your clothes in a gesture as casual as it was calculated. The space inside the taxi was tiny, forcing closeness. Your knee didn’t move. He noticed. His fingers lightly caressed the spot, the touch almost absent-minded but full of purpose, lightly lifting the fabric and caressing without restraint.

“Have I been demoted to slave now?” he teased, laughter stuck in his throat, trying to mask the fact that, for some reason, he was acting like a damn teenager.

You tilted your head, your gaze filled with interest. Your voice came out low, engaging.

“Thought you liked powerful women.”

Your body moved forward a few millimeters, enough for him to notice. The heat of your presence seeped into the space between you, transforming the cab into a silent game of intentions.

“Slave.”

Tangerine laughed, that low, gravelly laugh that vibrated in his chest before transforming into something even more dangerous.

“Princess.”

The word escaped him with surgical precision, carrying a weight that made you hold your breath for a second. Your tongue slid across your lips, instinctively moistening them, even with the lipstick still intact. He noticed it too.

“You’re beautiful,” Tangerine murmured, and this time, there was no joke in his tone. Only the truth.

You held his gaze, a glint of something indescribable dancing in your expression.

“Thank you.”

The taxi stopped smoothly in front of the hotel. Tangerine, without hesitation, pulled out his wallet and paid the fare before you could even think about moving. He already knew what to do, he knew what made you happy—what pleased you.

You opened the door, but before your feet touched the wet floor, his hand slid under yours, offering support naturally. There was no need for words. When you stood up, Tangerine closed the door behind you and, with his other hand, opened an umbrella.

It was only then that you realized it was raining.

The sound of the rain against the umbrella's fabric created a soft rhythm as he guided you through the hotel's brightly lit lobby. The smell of polished wood and expensive perfume hung in the air. Unhurriedly, he paid for the room, taking the card before heading to the elevator. Your hand rested on his arm, and, amidst the comfortable silence, one thing was clear: you were happy.

Maybe you should have always followed this path.

The elevator door slid open with a clang, and you walked down the carpeted hallway to your designated room. Tangerine slid his card into the electronic lock—green light, unlocked. As soon as you were inside, he turned to you, his deft fingers sliding over the fabric of your overcoat. His touch was deliberately slow, purposeful, sending a shiver down your skin before he hung the garment on the hanger.

You walked around the room, your eyes taking in every detail of the sophisticated decor, but what really caught your attention were the two champagne glasses on the table. A smile played on your lips as you filled both, feeling his presence approaching from behind. Tangerine took the glass without taking his eyes off you, bringing the glass to his lips and drinking in one gulp. 

“You don’t like cigarettes, but like alcohol,” he commented, his voice full of gentle provocation. Before you could respond, he picked up the bottle and filled the glasses again. “It’s poison, you know?” 

“Everyone has their battles,” you murmured, bringing the glass to your lips and pausing for a moment to just watch him. "Mine's alcohol."

He placed the glass on the headboard, and before you could react, his hand was already in your hair. His fingers lightly sank into the strands, pulling one of them closer to his face. He tilted his head and inhaled your scent, his eyes closing briefly before he released the strands, letting them slip between his fingers.

“You didn’t ask permission to touch me,” you teased, your voice coming out lower than you had planned. Your body, treacherous, was already getting closer without you realizing it.

“Should I?” Tangerine asked, his voice thick, and took a step forward.

“No.”

It wasn’t a warning. It was a request.

He understood.

His hand slid to your waist, his touch warm and firm. Then Tangerine leaned in, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. You held your breath. His mustache brushed against your skin as he moved to your forehead, then to the other cheek, tracing an adoring path before finally moving down to your chin. His bottom lip slid against your skin, exploring, before touching your mouth in a subtle, almost torturous brush.

“You’re calm,” you whispered as you released your breath, your eyes slowly opening to meet his. The blue depths were darker, filled with something that made you shiver. 

“You want more?” The question was spoken in a low, husky tone, full of promise. You held his gaze and, without hesitation, murmured:

“I do.”

The smile that formed on his lips was dangerous, following with another teasing peck. Another. And another, which turned into a slow kiss, savoring every part of your mouth, his hand stopping at your waist, his grip becoming tighter. You returned the intensity, allowing yourself to finally tangle your fingers in those waves that you had found yourself thinking about so many nights.

His touch traveled to your hips, a silly hand reaching under your ass to grab your leg, squeezing tightly as he hiked up your dress to the hem of your panties, pulling the elastic, making a tugging noise to let you know he was there. A silent request for consent. Oh, how you loved being pampered by this man.

“You’re my best man, you know?” You purred, leaning against Tangerine’s shoulder, while he still played with the hem of your panties, his smart fingers going to the center, pulling the elastic so they fit inside you.

“Yeah?” He gasped, his mouth opening at the feeling of your wetness, inserting a finger into the slit to feel the texture of your walls squeezing his finger.

“Yeah.” You groaned, biting your lips to suppress the lewd moan that insisted on coming out of your throat, while he did a slow dance inside you, circling that special spot that made you tremble.

“If I knew it was necessary to make you wet to tell the truth, I would’ve fucked you a long time ago.” He whispered against your lips, chasing them for another kiss as he added another finger to that delicious game inside you. It was as if you were a map and he knew the exact location for his pleasure.

“I would’ve punished you.” You tried to threaten, throwing your head back at the pleasure of his thumb joining the teasing, circling your clit. “Shit.”

“You’ve already punished me enough.” He replied, his fingers becoming faster on the spot. He wanted you to stay awake, aware, knowing that it was him, your best agent, who was causing you this pleasure. “I heard I’m the only one who does small talk after making a mistake. You cut or kill the others. Tell me, is there something special with me, princess?”

“Fuck you.” You cursed, grinding against his hands to get more friction, but every time you ground your hips for more, he stopped for a few seconds before going back. “Fuck, Tan!”

“Fuck yourself on my fingers, then.” He teased, returning to the fast rhythm of his fingers that you needed so much. Even in that uncomfortable position, you were coming undone sublimely, trembling with your leg resting on his waist, on your tiptoes even in your heels. “That’s it…”

He waited for you to calm down, gradually decreasing the circles on your clit little by little until the spasms stopped and you could get back on your feet. You swallowed hard, fixing your hair as you tried to control yourself in that situation where Tangerine’s cock seemed to throb inside his pants, the pulse being visible.

“you do this often?” You asked, sighing as you turned so he could unzip your dress. He brushed your perfect hair aside so it wouldn't get caught in the device. Damn, you'd never been so grateful to hear that metallic sound of a zipper opening and the rustling of fabric on the floor.

“Being your sex slave?” He whispered in your ear, making every hair on the back of your neck stand on end with his hot breath. “Can make it frequent, if my princess wants.”

You fell silent, your breathing uncertain, almost a moan. Tangerine laughed, calculating his breath in the hollow of your neck.

“Too sour for your sharp tongue, little fox?”

You turned your ankles, his eyes immediately traveling over your curves, the ones he fantasized about when you were scolding him, under that tight dress and black coat, bigger than you, to hide your weapons. And there you were, unarmed, perfect, almost naked.

“Fox got your tongue, Tan?” You teased, your hands going to the hooks of your lacy bra, throwing it to the floor.

“Pleasantly.” He replied, licking his lips. You were determined, he knew. You could take off all your clothes by yourself without his help, not that you didn’t want to, but because somehow, you knew it would drive him crazy. The trait he hated the most before was what turned him on at that moment. Dominance.

He aimed at you, placing your fingers on the hem of your panties and letting them slide down your ankles, picking up the fabric and placing it in his palm. He suppressed the urge to smell that fabric. Holy shit, how he suppressed it. Using all his military and divine training to remain nonchalant, just putting the cloth inside his pants pocket, before unbuttoning his shirt.

“Leave the heels on.” He commanded, throwing the shirt to the floor, giving the divine view of every damn defined muscle of his. Shit. He had no right to be like this.

“Fetish?” You asked, not taking your eyes off Tangerine’s hands working to remove his tight pants, throwing them in the same fate as the other discarded clothes on the floor.

“One of ‘em.” He answered, stopping only with the white boxers that were transparent at the tip. He was excited. Much more than he had ever been in his entire life. On the edge. “C’mere and take ‘em off, princess.”

“Giving me orders?” You flirted, getting closer and playing with the hem of his underwear, the softness of your palm touching his erection with surprising delicacy.

“m giving you a break from your job.” He gasped, feeling your fist go up and down his length.

You were open-mouthed, feeling pleasure as if he were touching you and not the other way around. You swore you had never felt such a delicious cock in your life, your desire forcing you to get on your knees and enjoy it more. You needed to taste it, position be damned. Tangerine had you even before this stupid game.

“Holy shit.” He cursed, watching you take off your underwear in a second, lifting your feet to help you, being graced by your mouth warming his throbbing member. Saliva comforting your pain, your tongue licking the right places, your eyebrows knitted in pleasure. “Fuck, you looking like you’re enjoying this makes me… shit.” 

You wrapped the extension in your hand, maintaining eye contact with him, your tongue swirling around the tip, your hand following the movements of your mouth. His taste was better than you’d ever tasted, a salty touch balanced with sweet and bitter. Tangerine could go down to hell to see that vision again. 

“Shit, stop. I’m gonna cum if you keep going like this.” He grunted, pulling away, but you grabbed his thigh, giving one last suck before letting go of his cock. “Fuck. You were made for this.” 

“Glad for your feedback.” You smiled, wiping some of the drool that ran down the corner of your mouth, lying down on the bed.

Tangerine took off his shoes and socks, which were thrown somewhere near the clothes that were no longer important. You laid your head on the huge pillow of that king-size bed, spreading your legs to accommodate Tangerine's body in the middle.

“Main course?” You teased, catching a glimpse of Tangerine crawling on the bed, kissing your knee, your thigh, the inside of your body, giving you a little lick before moving up the trail to your breasts, ending on your lips.

“It's been the main course since flirting at the station.” He responded, kissing you, his hands squeezing every curve of your body with gusto, with force, almost painful.

You kicked off your heels. Screw his fetish. You needed to feel him, skin to skin, as much as you could. You wanted him to possess you completely, becoming one, entwining himself in the mess that was Tangerine. Your head fell back, a soft, submissive moan escaping your lips as you felt his cock in your hole, entering you shamelessly.

“Hmmm, Tan…” you moaned, pulling his head to kiss him passionately, while he moved his hips, going deeper and deeper inside you.

You held him with your thighs on his waist, the position being more intimate, deeper. His belly rubbed against your clitoris, you were completely stimulated. Tangerine leaned on one arm, his free hand roaming your body, squeezing your breasts, lowering his head to take one of your nipples in his mouth. Completely at the peak. Just like all his work, this was explosive. Tangerine’s own signature mark.

Not sure if it was the overstimulation that had happened before or if Tangerine was a damn who knew how to fuck too well, you felt yourself painfully close to cumming, arching your back, scratching his skin, he grunted in response, increasing the pace.

“Tangerine, shit…” you moaned in a thin scream, your body tensing. Your voice matched the staccatos of the strong thrusts. “Fuck, Tangerine.”

“I know, I know. Me too.” He groaned, grabbing your thigh and then your waist, pulling you as close as possible as he felt his own release getting closer.

He continued to increase the pace, until with one last round of his hips, strands of cum began to squirt inside you, while he felt your walls tighten around him. You were cumming too. Hard. He felt it, which made him force himself to move his pelvis a little more to prolong that sensation for both of you, both moaning in hypersensitivity.

Tangerine gradually slowed down his movements, until he was completely still inside you for a while, enjoying the few seconds left of the orgasm. He rolled to the side, panting, running his hand through his hair and then his mustache, in an attempt to fix it.

“I really need a cigarette right now.” He confessed, turning his face towards you, eyes roaming over your naked and destroyed beauty until returning to your eyes, so sincere and submissive at that moment.

“Are you one of those people who smokes after sex?” You said, pulling the sheets up to cover yourself and admire him more calmly. “I expected more from you, agent.”

“Gimme a break, princess. I worked hard here.” He joked, trying to fit in with you there inside the warm comforter. Tangerine’s hand went to your face, touching your cheeks and then your messy hair. “God… you’re beautiful.”

“Don’t think I’ll treat you any differently after this. You’re still my man.” You joked, returning to that same cocky posture from before. But something was different, the way your eyes betrayed you through your words.

He noticed. But he simply loved that little game too much to argue back.

“Understood, little fox.” He joked, lying on his back and pulling you to his chest. You played a little with the hairs on Tangerine’s belly, reviewing every detail of that night. The tangerine juice and a clever fox make-believe. It was stupid. A stupid word game. One you wanted to play forever if you could.

Actually, you could. He was your agent. The best of them. Theoretically.