#and they were all harder than my last one

[bloomseishiro]

in which rin listens to your voice texts whenever he misses you ₊˚ෆ⊹.ᐟ

As much as he struggles to admit it, Rin misses you quite a lot when he’s out of the country for a game.

It grows exceedingly harder when he has multiple away games back-to-back, making it near impossible to coordinate even a simple video call that lasts longer than two minutes when he’s gone. The only way he survives is by listening to your voice memos over and over again.

He makes sure to save each one you send, no matter how silly or trivial the topic at hand is (which, in all honesty, most of them were).

Like yesterday, you were telling him about how you made eggs for breakfast and one yolk was darker than the other. Completely useless and mundane information, but when it comes from your mouth, Rin treats it like it’s a lecture from Socrates. Groundbreaking and reverent.

Even just hearing your laugh makes his bad days brighter. The only thing that could make it even better is if he heard it in person. But seeing as you’re halfway across the globe, it doesn’t seem like that’s much of an option. 

Rin sighs. Only three more days until he returns to Japan and gets to see you, but for now, he has to throw his focus into soccer. 

It’s in the early afternoon when he receives a call from you—meaning it’s well past midnight over in Kamakura. 

Confused and slightly concerned that you’re awake at these hours, Rin pauses the video footage he’s currently reviewing before his one-on-one meeting and answers your call. 

“Hello?” he answers.

“Hey, Rinnie! I miss you sooo much,” you whine, and he can only picture the little pout on your face. 

Rin takes a sip of water to hide his smile. “I miss you, too. Why are you still awake?”

You exhale a deep breath. “Well, after analyzing your schedule and carefully noting what times you usually text me,” Rin snorts at your admission, “I’ve come to a conclusion that this is probably the best time to catch you. So I stayed awake.”

A chuckle escapes him at your antics. “Thoughtful.”

“I know,” you chirp. “I just wanted to hear your voice on a call for longer than one minute.”

Rin nods though you can’t see him. “It’s been hard to coordinate. Still, you should prioritize your rest.”

“I’ll sleep after we talk!” 

“Okay,” he says softly. Because as selfish as it is, he’s missed you too. And if this is the only time you can catch each other, he’s glad you’re awake to do it. “I have a meeting in—”

“Twenty minutes,” you finished knowingly.

He blinks.

“Told you I analyzed your schedule,” you say proudly. 

“You realize that’d be insanely weird. If it weren’t you.”

“Yeah.”

Rin rolls his eyes at your unapologetic tone, smiling despite himself. “I was saying my meeting’s soon, but until then, I’m all yours.”

He silently glances at the paused footage he really should be studying, but he pushes the thought away. If you could sacrifice some sleep, he’s willing to put up with getting an earful from his manager. 

“Tell me about your day,” you say. “I miss hearing your voice.” 

“There’s not much to say since you already know my entire routine anyway,” he says dryly.

You laugh in surprise and Rin feels lighter at the simple sound.

“Tell me about yours instead. Did you have eggs for breakfast again? Was another yolk darker?”

“My yolks were the same color this time,” you giggle. “Breakfast was great. Work, however… Horrible. It was really stressful this week. I just wish you were here right now to give me a hug.”

Rin frowns, upset that he can’t be there when you need him. “What if you take the rest of the week off and come here for the weekend?”

You hum to yourself, deep in thought. “You make a tempting proposal,” you praise. “I do need a break after everything that happened. And I do want to see your game this weekend…”

“Then come. I’ll book your flight.” 

“What will I tell my work?”

“You’re sick and have a fever and a migraine?”

You laugh at his suggestion, but Rin really is serious. Half-serious, at least. You deserve time off to relax and destress. Plus, it’s not like you have to worry about staying at work for money with him around.

Only a minute passes by before you relent. “I guess a few days won’t hurt,” you relent. “When’s the soonest flight?”

“I’ll set one up for tomorrow,” he says. Then, further clarifies, “As in, ten hours or so from now. So you can have time to get enough sleep and pack.”

“How thoughtful,” you playfully swoon. “So I can hug you in person tomorrow?”

“Yes,” he says. And that means Rin no longer has to re-listen to all your voice memos tomorrow. Instead, he can hear your voice in person. His favorite thing.

A loud yawn draws him away from his thoughts and his brows furrow in concern.

“You should sleep now.” 

“But you have five more minutes until your meeting,” you murmur, voice muffled from tiredness.

“Stalker,” he mocks gently. 

You’re too tired to even protest.

“Sleep,” he says once more. “I’ll see you soon enough.” 

“Mhm,” you mumble. Rin hears shuffling and static from your line. Likely you burying yourself in your blankets. He smiles to himself, wishing he could join. “Goodnight, baby. ’ll see you soon. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” 

And Rin has to say, getting grilled by his manager is definitely worth the call with you.

[vettelsvee]

NEW YEAR'S DAY | Oscar Piastri

⋆ PAIRING: Oscar Piastri x Girlfriend!Reader ⋆ SUMMARY: A clumsy and unexpected proposal on New Year's Day is what you wouldn't have thought about after dating Oscar for almost five years ↳ Part of REPUTATION in MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT ⋆ WARNINGS: Curse words ⋆ WORD COUNT: 1722 ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: I loved writing this one! Hope you like it as much as me ☺️ Feel free to tell me in the comments <3 ↳ LET'S TALK/REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

Oscar was nervous, really nervous… maybe even more than the day he won his first Formula 1 race and had no idea how to act.

“Which one do you prefer: blue pants or the black ones?”

“Oscar, sweetheart… it’s just New Year’s at our place. With your family. And with Lando. It’s all very casual, so stop overthinking what pants wearing!”

You answered from the kitchen island, struggling to cut a pineapple with a knife that was very likely the one Oscar had promised to sharpen. A promise, clearly, left unfulfilled.

Oscar looked at himself in the mirror and rolled his eyes at your answer.

The thing was you were supposed to be helping him. Instead, you were doing quite the opposite.

“I just want to look good, you know? It’s the first time we’re hosting New Year’s here, and, well… you never know what might happen. It’s a special night.”

“Come on, Osc, why are you so nervous?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. He avoided your gaze and sneezed instead.

“Okay… you’re definitely hiding something.”

“You think I’m hiding something because I sneezed?”

You nodded. You knew he always did that when he was dodging a topic, and then there was the way he kept fidgeting with his hands, tapping anxiously on his thighs.

“I’m not hiding anything, I swear,” Oscar said again. He tried to sound convincing, but the tremble in his voice gave him away. “I just want tonight to be… memorable.”

All you could do was smile. As much as you didn’t like being left in the dark, the way he kept secrets was, somehow, ridiculously charming. Especially coming from someone like Oscar, who rarely let his emotions show, no matter how hard you’d tried to help him open up.

As the hours passed and midnight drew closer, your home filled with people. First came Oscar’s mom and stepdad. Then his father arrived with his three sisters, who wasted no time grabbing cold beers while casting suspicious glances at your boyfriend. Lando, who was supposed to be one of the first to arrive, ended up being among the last. He said nothing until he reached the makeshift DJ booth he’d insisted you set up behind Oscar’s back. Even your cousin, who hadn’t been too keen on attending such a “different” kind of party, showed up unexpectedly, arm-in-arm with a guy you’d never seen before and who looked nothing like her usual type.

“Who let Oscar cook?” Lando asked, holding up a canapé with salmon that was, honestly, a little overdone. “This piece of toast looks incinerated.”

“Take it or leave it!” Oscar shouted from the kitchen, wrestling with an egg-shaped timer that refused to stop beeping. He slammed it repeatedly against the counter until it finally cracked open. “Holy shit!”

You shook your head, laughing quietly at the surreal scene, especially when Hattie walked over to Oscar and made him swear to buy you a new timer, plus something else she whispered in his ear that you couldn’t quite catch.

You tried, once again, not to read into the secrecy, but it got harder when his entire family huddled in a corner of the living room, politely but firmly refusing to let you join them.

Your cousin must’ve sensed your confusion, because when she came over, you finally felt like you could breathe again.

“Have you noticed how weird Oscar’s acting? Imagine if he proposes to you!”

“What? No, come on,” you replied quickly, doing your best not to get your hopes up. “In front of his whole family? On New Year’s Eve? That’s so not his style.” You shook your head. “If he ever did something like that, it’d be at home, after dinner or something low-key. He’s not the kind of guy who’d go public with that.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m saying it. Why else would he be this nervous, today of all days? It’s not your first New Year’s together… It’s too obvious.”

You brushed the idea aside, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite shake it off. Especially when, at 11:30 p.m., Oscar disappeared without a word and now, his sisters and Nicole were clearly stalling you.

Oscar tried to sneak into your bedroom unnoticed, but he knew he hadn’t succeeded. Did he care? Not one bit. Clutching the velvet ring box he’d hidden in his travel bag, he had bigger things on his mind.

“Okay, breathe… You’ve rehearsed this over ten times alone, and five with Lando…”

He crouched down, then stood in front of the full-length mirror to practice kneeling. But on the third attempt of “how to propose to my girlfriend without completely embarrassing myself,” he tripped on the rug and fell flat on his face.

“Shit…”

“Oscar, babe? Are you okay?”

Your voice made him scramble to his feet and instinctively toss the ring box to the back of the closet, terrified you’d catch him.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s great! Just, uh… rehearsing how to celebrate the New Year with you!”

“Osc, sweetheart, this isn’t our first New Year’s together,” you said as you jiggled the door handle, trying to open it. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting a little… off today.”

And that was putting it mildly.

“I’m just nervous because, you know… this is the first of many New Year’s where I’m a Formula 1 world champion!”

You shook your head. At that point, it was obvious—Oscar was up to something. Whatever it was, good or bad, it was going to surprise you.

You said goodbye and reminded him not to take too long—only ten minutes left until midnight. He promised he’d be quick, just needed to stop by the bathroom.

Once he heard your sandals fade down the hallway, he let out a long sigh of relief and turned to face the mirror one last time.

“All right… ‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you, through the good and the bad. So… will you marry me?’”

[...]

"Five minutes to midnight!" Lando shouted from the terrace, half a glass of champagne in hand as he finally abandoned the DJ booth.

"God, it was about time he got out of there," Nicole whispered to you. "Do you have any idea how nervous that music was making me?"

While you kept chatting with your mother-in-law, Oscar stepped out onto the balcony looking much paler than usual. It was obvious something was up: he scratched the back of his neck, stared at the sky, shoved his hands into his pockets, then looked straight at you and gave you a nervous smile.

"Hey, Osc... are you okay?" you asked, walking up to him with a shyness you hadn’t seen in him since you first started dating back in high school.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m fine." He glanced at his mom, who was standing behind you. She gave him a discreet thumbs-up. "I just… really want to see the fireworks."

"Oscar. You hate fireworks."

"Exactly the reason why I’m nervous."

He swallowed hard.

You let the little lie slide; there wasn’t time to call him out anyway, because everyone around you had started the countdown. So you just smiled, wrapped your arms around him, and kissed his cheek.

Oscar, gently pulling away, reached into his pocket to grab the box… only to find it wasn’t there.

"No, no, no… shit… where the hell are you?" he muttered under his breath, pretending his panic was about the upcoming fireworks.

He checked the other pocket… nothing. Looked down… nothing. Then, as he fumbled with the back pockets, he finally felt the box. Unfortunately, in pulling it out, it slipped from his hand and hit the ground with a soft thud.

"Five, four, three, two, one…!"

And Oscar tripped right over your feet.

"Happy New Year!"

You dropped to your knees in a slight panic to help him up, praying he hadn’t hurt himself, because the sound of the fall had been anything but soft.

What you weren’t expecting was to find him kneeling in front of you, holding an open box with the ring. The one you’d been eyeing for six months.

You stared at him, confused… and then completely speechless.

"Wait… are you really serious? This isn’t a joke, right?"

He looked up at you. Hair a mess, shirt wrinkled and soaked in champagne from the bottle Lando had just popped. Tiny pieces of confetti stuck to the beads of sweat on his face.

"Yes and no," he said, a sheepish grin spreading across his lips. "I mean, sure, I think I’ve dislocated a hip and lost most of my dignity, but… I guess it was worth it."

Then, with just a few quiet seconds and a single question, your eyes welled up.

"Will you marry me?"

Silence wrapped around the room. No one screamed. No one pushed you to answer. You even noticed Lando thoughtfully turning the music down, switching it to Lover by Taylor Swift, the song you’d once told Oscar you wanted playing when you got proposed to.

"Of course, you idiot," you said, tears rolling down your cheeks as you helped him up and pulled him into the tightest hug, burying your face in his chest. "But promise me you won’t be this nervous on our wedding day."

[...]

"Do you think it was too… casual?"

The party was over, and now the two of you were curled up in bed, sharing a McDonald’s burger because, as it turned out, Lando was right—putting Oscar in charge of New Year’s dinner had been a mistake you wouldn’t repeat.

"Well… you tripped over a rug while rehearsing, then fell again and ended up with confetti all over your face. So I wouldn’t call it casual. I’d say… unique."

"Yeah… It definitely didn’t go as planned."

"But it was perfect anyway," you cut in.

Oscar sat up, holding his Big Mac box like it was a sacred artifact, and looked at you.

"Really?"

"Of course! If there’s anything that defines us, it’s not just how much we love each other… it’s also how ridiculously clumsy we are."

"Right… And listen, speaking of clumsy…" he said with a guilty grin. "I think it’s very much fair you tell Lando that you were the one who burned all the food and ruined New Year’s dinner."

© VETTELSVEE (2025). Please, do not steal, copy, translate and share my works in other platforms. Thanks for reading!

[piastriprincess]

under  an  april  sky  ⸻  oscar  piastri  x  reader  .

featuring  oscar  piastri  ,  driver!reader  ,  she  fell  first  he  fell  harder  ,  first  kiss  . word  count  1.3k author’s  note  when  the  lovely  @tsunodaradio  requests  extras  i  give  them  extras  !  kae  you  are  an  angel  and  i’m  endlessly  grateful  everytime  i  see  your  name  in  my  dms  or  inbox  <3  this  scene  was  originally  written  as  the  last  part  of  the  birthday  build - a - fic  ,  but  i  liked  the  more  ambiguous  ending  at  the  photoshoot  .  i  was  so  sad  to  cut  her  originally  so  i’m  glad  i  got  to  rework  her  a  little  and  she’s  finally  seeing  the  light  of  day  !!  this  can  be  read  as  a  standalone  but  i  recommend  reading  orange  show  speedway  first  for  context  .  and  because  i  can’t  leave  these  two  alone  …  another  little  blurb  is  in  the  works  hopefully coming  out  this  weekend  heehee  !  title  is  from  apple  pie  ,  also  by  lizzy  mcalpine  !

You really shouldn’t be awake. 

It’s just past midnight — the witching hour, your mother used to call it. The term makes the crisp desert air feel heavy with meaning and magic, even if it’s just another chilly April night in a city that’s not your own. The hotel pool is empty this late, steam rising off the water as the underwater lights cast rippling turquoise motifs over the concrete. You sit at the edge, slipping your bare legs into the balmy water, and trace absentminded patterns over the surface with your fingertips. 

You have a race tomorrow. You have a curfew. You should be tucked soundly away in bed by now. But sleep has been elusive ever since the photoshoot, since Oscar’s words hung in the air between you like something fragile and precious you didn’t dare touch. 

You didn’t even have to try, and it was hard not to look at you. 

It’s hard to shut off your brain when the line runs through your mind approximately seven thousand times a day. Every time you manage to calm your restless thoughts enough to drift off, your dreams are still filled with blushing cheeks and phantom honey-brown eyes. 

It’s been nearly six weeks since the sentence that turned your world on its axis, and things between you and Oscar have shifted in a way that you wouldn’t have believed if you weren’t living it. The crush you once thought was hopelessly one-sided suddenly has company. Where you once got polite smiles and friendly professionalism, now you get the kind of attention that makes you a little dizzy. He lingers by the Racing Bulls garage so much that your engineers have started jokingly speculating he’s trying to commit team espionage. Sometimes, you catch him looking for you in the crowds, like he’s not quite settled unless he knows where you are. Your text conversations have evolved from race talk to everything and anything else — late night debates about music, complaints about the paddock lunches, inside jokes that make your heart kick wildly in your chest. 

Even with all the obvious affection, though, he hadn’t made a move. Not a real one. Sure, he’d let your knees knock together in driver’s briefings, brushed his hand over yours when he passed you things, smiled at you in that soft, boyish way of his. But there’d been no kiss, no confession. No moment you could point to as the stepping stone from almost to something more. It’s worse in a way, watching someone you’ve quietly pined over for months reciprocate at a careful distance, like he’s running the numbers in his head about whether or not it would ruin something to want you this much.

Still, you were trying very hard not to be greedy. Whatever you had with Oscar now was already more than you’d ever expected to get. 

“Thought I might find you here,” someone says, and for a moment you think you’ve really gone off the deep end with the feelings and started hallucinating his voice in your head. But when you glance over your shoulder at the door, there’s Oscar in an oversized hoodie and shorts, hair damp and curling around his ears the way you like it best, eyes warm and familiar. 

“How did you know?” 

“You told me you like hotel pools,” he replies, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like it wasn’t something you mentioned offhandedly weeks ago when you first started texting, about how you used to sneak up with a book for peace and quiet while the boys you karted with drank warm beer and roughhoused in their hotel rooms. You never expected him to remember it. It makes something warm bloom in your chest. “Can I —”

“Stay,” you say a little too quickly. His eyes widen slightly, pleased, and you can feel your cheeks heat up under his gaze. “I-I mean, if you want,” you stammer. “You’re not bothering me.”

His smile is impossibly soft. “Okay.”

He sits next to you, feet in the water, close enough that you can smell the sweet scent of his deodorant. When his pinky brushes against yours, you don’t pull away, even when your heart beats so hard it feels like it’s chafing against your ribs. The silence between the two of you is comfortable, easy. The kind of quiet you could make a home in.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” you ask finally, watching the waves lap against the wall. 

Oscar kicks at the water gently, sending ripples splashing over your legs. “Too wound up, I guess.”

“Big race tomorrow,” you say, swirling your foot in circles as you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “Chance for the championship lead.”

He sighs, ruffling a hand through his hair. And then his eyes dart unmistakably towards you, with an expression that looks almost longing. “That’s not what’s keeping me up.”

You try not to blush under his gaze, but it’s a losing battle. “Then what is?”

There’s silence, for a long moment. And then:

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Oscar says desperately, and his voice is so raw that it makes something in your chest twist and snap. “About this. About us. I mean, you hate the attention, and the media would have a field day, start dissecting every little interaction between us, and I don’t know how I could protect you from that. And there’s the team politics to consider. And what if I’m not good enough at striking the balance, what if I have to choose between being a good driver and being a good boyfriend —”

“Oscar —”

“— and I like you so much and I don’t want to do anything that would ruin it, and I keep thinking maybe it’s smarter to wait or keep things the way they are even if it kills me to pretend it doesn’t mean what it means to me, and —”

Enough is enough. You lean forward and press your lips to his. 

The boldness shocks you, even as you do it. Apparently it surprises Oscar too, because he stills completely for a moment before he melts into the kiss, letting out a soft sigh against your mouth that has your pulse going haywire under your skin. His hand comes up to cradle your face, the other resting on your thigh like he’s trying to steady himself. It’s everything you imagined and nothing like it at all. No dream could have captured the way his lips move against yours, hesitant at first and then deeper, more certain, like he’s been waiting for it as long as you have.

When you finally pull away, he looks slightly dazed, cheeks pink even in the pale blue light. “Oh.”

You smile at him broad and sublimely happy, forehead pressed against his. “Oh?”

“I — That was —” Oscar blinks, hard, like he’s trying to reboot his brain. “Sorry — what was I saying?”

His eyes are wide, awed nearly, and he’s looking at you like you’re something incandescent. You giggle, the soft sound echoing off the tiles. “You were overthinking a little bit.”

He grins sheepishly at you, pink creeping up his neck as the last dregs of uncertainty in his eyes give way to something steady. “I’d say I’m sorry, but… kind of hard to be upset with the result,” he says, intertwining his fingers into yours. 

You kind of forget how to form sentences at that. You’re sure you would blush or smile stupidly or say something terribly awkward, if he wasn’t leaning in to kiss you again, slow and sure like he’s trying to memorize the feeling of your mouth against his.  

Much, much later, you sneak back to your room with Oscar’s sweatshirt draped around your shoulders and the taste of his smile still on your lips. You drift off easier than you have in months, sleep sound and untroubled.

There’s no need to dream anymore. Not when you have the real thing right in front of you.

[centaurianthropology]

Using the costuming to figure out the budget of ‘Murderbot’

So I kept meaning to write other things, but what ended up lingering in my brain this week about ‘Murderbot’ was something a bit more specific to my training an interests: costuming, and more specifically, how costuming can indicate the budget of the show. 

I’ve seen posts on here and elsewhere criticizing certain aspects of the show for various costuming or setting choices (no drones, far less chrome and inorganic parts on both MB and Gurathin than I think a lot of us imagined, less visual representation of the Feed, things looking “cheap” or “plastic”, etc), and claiming that Apple has an enormous amount of money, so why did the show ‘cheap out’?

I think that A) fundamentally misunderstands that a single television production is not the same as its production company, and B) dramatically overestimates the budget this show almost certainly has.

I don’t think this is a low-budget show.  The CG is solid, the sets are lovely, and none of that is going to be accomplished with low budget, but looking at the costumes it’s clear this isn’t a high-budget show either.  Appropriately for a fairly unknown property, my guess is that season 1’s budget was modest. Keeping run-times down to 22 minutes an episode was likely both a stylistic choice (hooray serial adventure stories!), but was also a budgetary choice. Because every minute that makes it to air is a LOT of money on the table. 

But I can also see the mid-budget in the costumes, but also a lot of creative work-arounds for a limited budget. For one, most characters thus far essentially have two costumes: their civilian clothing (or MB’s armor), and the hab uniforms. And the uniforms themselves are modular, and so a good amount of customization can happen with a single costuming piece (which is both practical in universe, but also great for saving money for wardrobe). That means that more money can go into limited pieces.

There is certainly money that went into these pieces. We didn’t get to spend a lot of time with the original civilian pieces, but the uniforms all required a decent amount of tailoring, at least in the out piece, because let me tell you: jumpsuits are NOT one-size-fits-all. They have to be fitted to every part of a person in order to fit decently, which means each of the actors had a uniform made bespoke for them.  There are also prints (company logo) on a lot of the pieces that would also require custom work. The tunics Bharadwaj and Arada both wear may or may not be custom.

There are a lot of carefully cut corners that almost certainly lowered cost: the shoes, and probably the leggings and cargo pants, look like they were purchased rather than made.  Purchasing a costume piece, especially if you don’t have to purchase a brand name or a designer piece, is the cheapest and easiest way to costume. 

I think that, if they had unlimited budget, everything would probably be bespoke.  Even the fabricated clothing on the hab would be bespoke, down to the shoes (shoes are always the last thing to be bespoke, because very few costumers are also cobblers, and hiring someone to make shoes is VERY pricey).  I think they’d take all the little details they managed to work in, and go even farther with them.   I want to stress that I think the costumers did really well with what they had, and even had a lot of subtle detail worked into their pieces.  Having the company logo as a miniature texture print was particularly great.  And you can get away with the ‘printed’ clothing being made out of inexpensive synthetics, while still making it a stylistic choice.

If anything, I think they would have pushed the budget harder with the civilian clothing if they had a bigger budget. It’s stated that their clothing is hand-made.  If I were costuming the show, I would want their costumes from Preservation to be actually hand-made, with a ton of detail work, all made of natural fabrics to contrast the synthetics in the Corporation Rim.  I would want layered textures, embroidery, bead-work, knits.  I could see them trying to do that with the civilian costumes, but it was there that I still saw what almost certainly were purchased pieces that didn’t quite nail that feeling. And that’s what convinced me that this was a mid-budget show. If they had the budget of, say, ‘Game of Thrones’, very different choices would have been made. I mentioned the civilian clothing, but there would have also, likely, been a lot more obviously inorganic parts on Murderbot, and probably also Gurathin.

Anyway, I have no idea if anyone is interested in my thoughts on budget on a show like this, but it was this realization that made me fine with a lot of visual changes to save money. If our SecUnit doesn’t have metallic feet, and a ton of visible inorganics, I get it. A few visual effects shots of being reprinted (a fun thought!) are way cheaper than having to either provide makeup or costumes consistently to create believable synthetic pieces, particularly if you have to supplement them with CG. So it’s fine. It’s fine if they can’t afford that, or the drones. Hell, having the hab look cheap is not only fine, it’s perfect! This is the budget model, after all. It looks like an intergalactic air-stream, while the DeltFall hab (which was the deluxe version) is far more upscale sci-fi visuals. There is so much visual storytelling going on, not only working within the budget, but utilizing their lower budget to tell a story.

[guppiechuu]

Morning continuation of irresistible😩✋🏻

your wish is my command ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ xo chuu

irresistible p.2 ⭑.ᐟ s.j (read part one here.)

length: 1.8k

contains: smut, unprotected sex (sorry guys it's literally every fic), oral sex (fem!reader), wake up sex

__

Jake stirred slightly as he came out of sleep, the light through your window easing him gently back into the waking world.

You were still curled against him, your back to his chest, your cheek pressed against the palm of his hand. Your breath tickled his skin lightly, making it difficult for him to fall back asleep.

He pressed his face into your hair, breathing in the warm smell of your skin. The smell of your shampoo and body lotion wafted around him, filling his senses with the thought of you.

Mornings were the hardest for Jake. Even harder than watching you get ready for bed. You were so soft and warm, so clingy when it was time for him to get up and start his day. 

To make matters worse, Jake was always hard when he woke up. Always.

He sighed, that familiar ache settling in his lower stomach. It didn’t help that you liked to sleep as close as humanly possible, that every time you adjusted your hips, he felt your ass brush up against his dick beneath his sweatpants. 

And you were still shirtless. Still in nothing but the underwear he'd hastily pushed to the side last night. Having you in his arms like this, the way you were so at ease with him, it drove him crazy. 

He slid a lazy hand up the length of your thigh, dragging it up the side of your hip and across your stomach. You sighed gently at his touch, goosebumps rising across your shoulders. Jake squeezed the flesh of your waist gently, pushing his hips into yours as the ache in his groin grew. 

There was no way he was falling back asleep. Not anymore.

He propped himself up on his elbow, hair falling into his eyes as he leaned forward to kiss your shoulder, your arm, the inside of your neck. 

His other hand slid up your stomach to palm your chest, squeezing as he bit down on the crook of your neck gently. Mine, he thought lazily. Mine, mine, mine.

You let out a soft moan, still lost in sleep as you rotated onto your back. Jake was propped above you with an arm on either side of yours. His hair tickled your face as he leaned down to kiss you again—the base of your throat, your tits, your jaw. 

He slid his tongue against your collarbone, dragging it up the length of your neck. Covering the wet stripe with a line of feather-soft kisses. He kissed his way down your chest, all the way across your sternum and down to your belly button. 

You stirred again as he settled down between your legs, where he could kiss the sensitive skin between your thighs. You loved when he did this. Woke you up with his tongue between your legs. 

“Mmm,” You hummed, voice scratchy with sleep. 

“Morning, baby,” He said softly, grazing his teeth against the inside of your thigh. 

You didn’t say anything. Just the small movement of your hips, pushing up towards his mouth, was enough of an answer for him. 

He curled his tongue against your skin, leaving gentle bite marks in a trail that got closer and closer to where you were beginning to ache for him. 

That was the thing with Jake. He loved foreplay. Loved to make sure you were soaking wet before he even touched you where you wanted him most. And by the look of things, you were getting there. 

He loved to mark you up in the morning. Leave you with something of his to carry around all day until he could fuck you again later that night. He took his time on your thighs, sucking red bruises into your skin as you twitched beneath him. 

Once satisfied with the smattering of hickeys he’d left behind, Jake hooked a finger over the waist band of your underwear, which were still slightly damp from when he’d finished in you the night before. The thought of it sent a jolt of sensitivity through his body. 

Fucking his cum from the night before into you the next morning? Gross. Absolutely disgusting. It turned him on just to think about it. 

He attached his lips to your hip bone as he slid your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor carelessly. All he cared about was right there, burning hot under his lips, already shining with arousal. 

Jake watched you as he striped his tongue between your folds, your back arching up to meet his mouth. You tasted so sweet in the mornings, dripping for him before you’d even opened your eyes. 

He curled his tongue against you, sucking gently at your clit as he buried his face between your legs. God, Jake loved eating you out. Who needed breakfast when he could have his girlfriend spread open in front of him like this? 

You whined gently as he lapped across your pussy, dipping his tongue into the well of your cunt. His arms curled under your open legs, palms resting flat against your stomach as you wound your hips against his mouth. 

He hummed against you, the vibrations shooting up your lower stomach in the most agonizingly delicious way. You finally peeked an eye open just to moan at the sight of him, messy-hair and all, devouring your clenching pussy. 

“Jakey,” You murmured, dragging a hand back through your hair. “Feels so good… but I—” 

You groaned, arching your back as he slid his tongue inside you. 

“You what, baby?” He asked, his breath tickling your skin. 

“I want you here now.” You reached a hand out, brushing the hair back from his face. 

He gazed up at you, savoring the taste of your cunt before pulling back. 

“All the way?” He asked.

“All the way.” 

Jake let you pull him up by the collar of his hoodie, whining as he rested in the heat between your legs. You kissed him sloppily, not caring about the fact that neither of you had brushed your teeth or that he tasted like your cunt.

Some people liked coffee in the morning. You liked tasting yourself on your boyfriend’s tongue. 

Jake was stiff now, pressing against you through his sweats as he pushed his hips against yours. It was all lazy sensuality between you—raking your fingers through his hair, his hands grazing over your skin until you were practically shivering under them. 

He sat back to pull his hoodie over his head, exposing the soft skin of his chest and stomach. You bit your lip, watching eagerly as he slid out of his sweats, dick springing up against his stomach. 

You hadn’t even touched him, and he was that hard. Just from the feeling of eating you out. 

Your bodies fit together perfectly, the way they had a million times. Jake tucked an arm under your leg as he pushed the tip of his dick inside you, just enough to make you both groan in unison. 

“So good, baby,” He said, then laughed. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum right here.” 

“Mmhm.” You shook your head, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him all the way on top of you. 

He slid into you with a hiss, burying all the way inside where you were warm and wet and pulsing. Jake’s mouth fell open, his eyes squeezing shut, as you attached your lips to his throat. 

It was your turn to mark him up now. You were more eager than he’d been, biting and sucking harshly until he was stuttering. 

“E-easy, babe, I ha— have to go into the office today,” He said, moaning as his hips began dragging in and out of yours. 

You ignored him, and he couldn’t bring it in himself to stop you. He looked down between your bodies, watching hungrily as his dick slid out of you and disappeared back in. Your belly tensed every time he pushed all the way in, breathy moans hot on his neck. 

You took your time together, as much as the morning would allow. Jake hardly cared that he was inside of you, he was more preoccupied by how beautiful you always looked first thing. 

You blushed under his gaze, heart swelling as he brushed his fingers against your face, pressing soft sweet kisses to your temples and forehead. 

“Pretty,” He mumbled against your skin, moaning breathily. “Love you, baby. I’m gonna miss you today.” 

You buried your face in his neck, craving a way to be even closer than you were already. “Do you have to go?” You whined, curling your legs around his waist as if that might keep him there with you forever. 

He ran his hand down the outside of your thigh, grabbing hold of it as he fucked into you harder. “Aren’t you sick of me yet?”

“No,” You mumbled against his mouth. “Wanna spend all day with you.” 

He hummed achingly, eyes closed as he pressed his forehead against yours. This was your favorite part, the moment he lost all control. 

“Fuck, y/n,” He groaned, biting his lip as his thrusts became sloppier. 

“Come on, baby,” You encouraged, swiping your tongue under his jaw. “Wanna have you inside me all day.” 

Jake could have finished from your words alone. But the sound of your voice mixed with the feeling of you tightening around him sent him over the edge. He jutted his hips into yours, pubic bone pressing down on your clit just right to make you tumble over the edge with him. 

He opened his mouth against yours, spilling whiny moans into your throat as he finished inside you, arms shaking slightly as they held him up. 

You curled your fingers into his hair, tugging gently as your hips tensed and then shook, your climax ripping through your body and chasing away the last of your tiredness. 

Jake gave you a few last strokes, teasing out his sensitivity on the warm, soft velvet of your cunt. Then, he press his lips to yours, humming against your mouth as he pulled away. 

“Can I take you out tonight?” He asked cheerily, gathering his sweats and sweatshirt from the floor. He was always in a good mood like this after.

He disappeared into your bathroom as he spoke. “Are you craving anything? We could try that restaurant that opened last month. I think Heeseung said it was good.” 

The sound of your showerhead turning on drifted into your room. You smiled to yourself, waiting for him to notice that you weren’t behind him.

“Or we could go back to that Mexican place. I’m down for tacos. Always down for tacos.”

“Jake?” You called lightly, head resting on your hand. 

He popped out from behind the bathroom door. “Oh, sorry, baby.” He crossed your room and in one fell swoop, had your body up in his arms as you giggled into his shoulder. “Can’t leave you a mess like this, can I?”

You disappeared into the shower together, giggling through the steam and soap bubbles, most definitely late but entirely too happy to care. 

__

⤷ chuu's 💌 ── .✦ i started this and then tumblr deleted the whole thing ヾ(๑╹◡╹)ﾉ🔪

so this rewrite is maybe not as good but i hope you enjoy anyways!! thank you for your sweet message and to everyone else who enjoyed irresistible! I have some fun things in the works for enha comeback! have a good day/night hehe ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

[enwoso]

fifty and flyin’ | alessia russo x child!reader

i’m not even lying when i say this has been sat waiting since the fifth of april.. since last camp. but finally it’s here - worth the wait🙃

grumpy masterlist

the buzz in the spanish stadium was electric as always no matter where the lionesses played—flags waving, drums pounding, chants echoing through the crisp night air. the scent of fresh grass and stadium food lingered in the air, as the floodlights beamed down on the pitch like stars.

but as you sat with a bundle of nerves and glitter in your lap, clutching a hand-painted banner bigger than you were.

"do you think she'll see it, nonna?" you asked, peeking over the edge of the barrier. your big curious blue eyes scanning the field anxiously, despite the game not having started yet.

"she'll see it, darling," your grandfather reassured with a warm wink. "you spent all day on that. if she misses it, we'll wave it even harder."

the banner was an explosion of colour and love: "GO MUMMY! 50 CAPS! WE LOVE YOU!"— written in bold, glittery letters, with red and white hearts, stick figures of you and alessia holding hands, as well as many tiny doodles of both of your favourite things for good measure.

"she's going to cry when she sees it," luca said, grinning as he helped you hold it steady. "you've made sure of that."

down on the pitch, alessia was focused— hair slicked back perfectly in a ponytail, armband on her sleeve, the number 9 proudly stretched across her back. england v portugal.

her 50th cap. something she could only dream about when she was your age, now was time to make that dream a reality.

but even in her focus, her eyes flicked to the stands every few minutes. always to the same spot. always searching for her girl, for you.

—

the first half was tight. the kind of game that had everyone on edge. but through it all, you sat perfectly upright, hands gripping your sign, barely blinking.

"mummy's playing really good, right nonna?" you asked quietly, like you didn't want to jinx anything.

"the best," your grandmother said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "your mummy was made for moments like this."

and when it happened—when ella slipped that perfect through ball, and alessia took it in stride, cutting between defenders like she was dancing— you froze. and then—

"MUMMY!!!"

you screamed so loud it startled the row in front. glitter flying from your jumper like a confetti cannon as you jumped up and down, feet bouncing on the seat. your cheeks flushed pink with sheer excitement.

"she did it! she did it, nonna! did you see? did you see?!"

luca laughed, lifting you up into his arms so you could wave the banner even higher. "we all saw, darling. the whole stadium saw."

down on the pitch, alessia's arms flew out in their usual way, for her celebration. air russo back in business. she beamed—radiant and wild with joy—and as her teammates swarmed her, she pulled away just slightly, facing the family section.

she kissed her wrist, like always, then tapped the number on her back. and finally, pointed straight toward the stands—toward you. pressing her palm over her heart and mouthed the words 'that was for you.'

you gasped loud as you hand went around your mouth. "mummy pointed at me. she did it for me."

"you've always been her lucky charm, kiddo" luca whispered, kissing the top of your head.

—

the final whistle blew. england 2–1 spain.

alessia's legs ached, her cheeks hurt from smiling, and adrenaline pulsed through her veins. but her eyes weren't on the cameras, or the fans, or even her teammates.

they were on that one spot in the stands. and there it was. the banner. still held up high by tiny, determined arms.

"look at her," alessia breathed, eyes soft. "she's still holding it."

ella jogged over, nudging her side. "you've gone, mate. you've gone full mum-mode."

"i have to go to her," alessia said, already veering off.

leah called after her, "don't go jumping fences!"

"lovie's with my mum, relax!" alessia tossed over her shoulder, laughing. as she approached the barrier, you were already bouncing in place, nearly falling into nonna's lap.

"mummy! mummy, you scored! did you see my banner? i held it up the whole time, even when my arms got tired and we had to fix it 'cause the wind tried to steal it!"

alessia beamed, reaching over and wrapping her arms tight around you as if it had been years since she saw you when in reality it had been less than four hours, pulling you in close like the rest of the world didn't exist.

"oh, i saw it," she whispered into your curls. "lovie, it was the most beautiful thing i've ever seen. it sparkled even more than hannah’s gloves."

you giggled. "you really saw it?"

"i saw it right after i scored. i looked straight up and there you were. it made my whole night."

"really? you mean it?" you asked, wide-eyed, not sure whether to believe your mummy or not.

"i scored for you, lovie. that goal was yours. that whole game—you were with me the whole time."

you lit up like a christmas tree. "i knew it. i told uncle luca you'd score. i felt it in my tummy."

alessia laughed, eyes brimming with happy tears. nothing would ever top this moment. "well, you've got good instincts, lovie."

normally, alessia would leave you with your grandparents during post-match duties, you having more fun with them then the boring behind the scene action. but not tonight. not on her 50th cap. not after that banner.

alessia lifted you over the barrier, ignoring the slight protest from the steward, and settled you securely on her hip.

"let's go wave at the fans, my little superstar."

you squealed, arms tight around her neck as you waved bye to your grandparents and your uncle before turning back to your mummy. "i love you, mummy."

"i love you more, my baby." as you both walked the pitch together, the team lit up.

"whey! look who's here!" lucy called out, waving her arms around in excitement. "future number 9 on the pitch!"

lauren crouched down to your level. "that banner was fire. can you make one for me next time?"

"hmm, i only make them for my mummy," you said matter-of-factly, before pausing. "but maybe... if you score a really really good goal."

chloe kneeling beside you with mock seriousness. "on a scale of one to sparkly, how much glitter did you use?"

"all of it," you replied proudly. "mama says i'm a glitter menace."

beth laughed. "and you're a menace on the pitch, less."

leah joined them with a soft smile, carrying the banner like it was great treasure. she handed it back to you. "don't worry, angel. i've protected it."

you grinned wide. "thank you, mama."

alessia glanced between the two of them, heart practically bursting. "look at my girls," she whispered.

and in that moment—on a foreign pitch, surrounded by teammates and fans, under a glitter-filled night—everything felt whole. fifty caps. one goal. one unforgettable banner.

and a family that made everything mean more.

—

after the celebration had died down and everyone was now winding down for the night, before a long day of travelling.

the hotel room was bathed in soft golden light, the atmosphere warm and peaceful after the rush of alessia's big night.

from the window, the city below buzzed with life, but inside, the only sounds were the low hum of the air conditioning and the soft creak of the hallway door.

alessia sat on the edge of the bed, now comfortably settled in her favourite hoodie and joggers, her hair flowing free and freshly washed.

but still she wore the proud smile from her victory, though now it was softer, quieter—more at peace. her 50th cap. the goal. the banner. all of it felt like a dream she never wanted to end.

on the floor beside her, the glitter-covered banner lay carefully flat, the colourful words still shimmering under the dim light. it was all for her. for them. and for you.

you were already curled up in the middle of the bed, wearing your little lionesses top, cheeks rosy from the evening's excitement.

your curly hair was a messy halo around her face, and streaks of glitter clung to her skin—some still sparkling, some smeared from your enthusiastic post-match ice cream adventure with leah. the sugary sweetness of it all seemed to linger in the air as your small voice broke the silence.

"she out like a light," alessia whispered, glancing toward the bathroom where leah had just emerged, her hair twisted up into a messy bun and sleeves rolled up, carrying the comforting scent of lavender shampoo.

"no i not," came the sleepy protest from the bed, and both alessia and leah couldn't help but smile.

leah grinned playfully, crossing the room toward the bed. "i knew you were faking it," she teased, sitting down beside you and smoothing a hand over your wild curls. "big night for you, huh?"

you stretched like a cat, squinting up at leah. "i not faking! i- was just... resting my face," you said, eyes already half-closed again.

"oh sorry, my mistake," leah teased, raising an eyebrow a wide smile on her lips as she watched your eyes flutter close once again "that is totally different, huh?"

you crawled into your mummy's lap without hesitation, making yourself comfortable like second nature "i am tired, mummy," you murmured, your small head nestling on your mummy's chest. "but i don't want to sleep until i tell you both something."

alessia's heart swelling, as leah scooted closer to them, her arms wrapped loosely around her knees. "what's that, little one?"

you blinked slowly, your eyes heavy but still bright with excitement. "i think... today was the best day ever."

alessia chuckled softly, kissing your forehead. "yeah? not because of the ice cream, though, right?"

"no," you giggled, her little body shaking with the sound. "cause mummy scored, and we won, and everyone saw my banner, and mama was waving at me even when working. and... and when mummy pointed to her heart and looked up, i knew it was for me."

alessia felt a lump in her throat, her chest tightening with a flood of love she couldn't quite put into words.

"it's always for you, lovie," alessia whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "that goal? it was all for you."

you smiled sleepily, your tiny fingers playing with the hem of  your mummy's hoodie. "i gonna make a new banner for when you get a hundred caps," you said, your words slurring with sleep.

"oh dear," leah laughed softly, her hands gently brushing against your curls. "we're going to need a whole stadium just for your craft supplies at this point."

alessia joined in the laughter, her heart full. "she's already planning the glitter budget for it. who needs a bank account when you've got a five-year-old with a glitter obsession?"

you just yawned, your eyelids fluttering as your little body finally gave in to sleep. you snuggled deeper into your mummy's arms, and with a soft sigh, your breathing slowed.

leah smiled as she watched the two of you, her eyes soft with affection. "look at you two," she whispered, voice low, so as not to disturb the peaceful moment. "she's perfect."

alessia kissed the top of your head, her eyes never leaving leah. "she really is," she murmured, her voice full of quiet pride. "and she's all ours."

leah moved slightly offering to move you to somewhere more comfy, and with the care of someone who'd done it a thousand times.

leah shifted you onto a pillow in your own little bed, tucking the blankets around you with practiced hands. the whole scene was so familiar, so comforting—alessia couldn't help but watch with a soft smile.

once you were properly settled, leah slid under the covers, her body making the bed dip beside alessia. alessia crawled in next, her body instinctively moving closer to leah's. she rested her head against leah's shoulder, the warmth of her body grounding her in a way nothing else could.

"fifty caps," leah whispered softly, pressing a tender kiss into alessia's hair. "you're a joke."

alessia laughed quietly, shaking her head. "i wasn't going to cry tonight. then she held up that damn banner. i swear she's trying to turn me into a puddle."

leah smirked, running her fingers through alessia's hair, the touch gentle and soothing. "she's a menace. a very cute and glittery menace."

alessia huffed out a soft laugh. "she was so excited. she didn't even blink when i scored. just started shouting like it was the world cup final. but... i saw her. even with all the noise and the people around me—i still saw her."

leah pressed her lips to alessia's temple, her breath warm against her skin. "you always do. you see everything that matters."

the room fell into a peaceful silence then—just the soft sound of your breathing, even and calm, the only sign that you were still with them.

alessia's heart was full in a way she never quite thought it could be. the warmth of leah beside her, the love for you growing more deeper with each passing day if that was even humanly possible—it was everything she had ever wanted and more.

you stirred in your sleep slightly, mumbling something about "glitter bananas" and "dancing footballs," making leah snicker quietly.

"she's already dreaming of her next masterpiece," alessia whispered, smiling into the quiet. "we are never escaping the glitter now, we are going to be finding it every where at home.

leah chuckled softly, pulling alessia closer to her side. "she's a glitter-wielding menace, but she's our glitter-wielding menace."

"yep," alessia agreed, blinking back tears she hadn't realized were there. "she really is. and i wouldn't change a thing."

they lay there in the stillness, wrapped in the soft glow of the night, the day's excitement gradually melting into a quiet, peaceful calm. the only sounds now were the gentle rise and fall of your breathing, and the comforting rhythm of alessia's  and leah's hearts beating in sync.

"i love you," alessia whispered after a long pause, her voice a soft murmur in the dim room.

leah's arm tightened around her waist, pulling her even closer. "i love you too," she whispered back, kissing the top of her head. "more than anything."

and in that quiet moment—under the soft glow of the hotel room lamp, wrapped in blankets and love—they stayed. wrapped in glitter, in goals, in each other.

together.

[harrysangel23]

Stuffy*

A/N: Hi guys!! So happy to see my last fic got some attention and it seems y'all liked it so I thought I'd post another. LMK what you think and send in some requests if you'd like, not sure when I'll post next but I hope you guys enjoy this one as well!

pairing: soft dom H x sub reader

WC: a little under 2k

Warnings: humping, dirty talk, oral (f&m receiving), fingering F recieving, daddy kink, spit play. (I think thats all? just know its low key filthy)

18+

Out of all the things Harry thought he would walk into, he never expected you to be humping a stuffy while tears streamed down your face. 

He had been at work all day, long meetings and boring paperwork that slowly drained the life out of him. He loved his job sure, days like this though made him want to walk away and never come back. His bunny was sweet enough to send him encouraging texts throughout the day and figured she'd be asleep by the time he returned home. Much to his surprise, this was clearly not the case. 

She turned her head when she heard their bedroom door open but that didn’t stop her hips from moving across the stuffy that lay between her legs. 

“What's this all about bunny?” He spoke softly, moving towards the bed to grab her chin in his palm as he lightly thumbed away the tears that moved down her cheeks. 

She whined and he gave her a pointed look, she knows she has to explain herself. “Daddy it hurts so bad, I can’t h-help it.” She let out a soft sob as her clit grazed the beaded nose and he felt his heart clench a little.

“What do you mean darling, what hurts?”

“My pussy daddy, I need you to help me, please. I’ve been trying, I just can’t make it go away.” His eyes couldn’t break away from the very noticeable damp spot on her panties and how it only seemed to grow the more she grinded down. 

“Why didn’t you say something sweetheart, hm? You’ve been texting me all day.”

“I-I know how rough your day was, I d-didn’t want you to have to look after me w-when you had a lot going on and I thought I could do it myself.” Tears continued leaking out of her eyes and he tried to wipe them away with his thumbs. 

“You know I’m supposed to look after you, I love looking after you.” He pointedly looked at her after her previous statement. “Even if I had a rough day, I would love nothing more than to take care of you and your sweet little pussy.” 

She let out another cry, reaching her hands to hold the wrists that were cupping her face. She needed to feel some part of him. Already being worked up, him showing up home with an unbuttoned shirt and pants that clung to his hips wasn’t helping. She moved her hands to tug on the pants and pull them and his boxers down. His growing erection now right in your face. 

A gentle hiss left his throat as you quickly spat in your hands and began to stroke his length up and down. While still rocking your hips against the stuffy, your neck bent and you happily licked at him. He watched intensely as your tongue made its way from his base all the way to the tip before you sucked the precum that was sitting there. Letting out a gentle moan at the taste vibrated against his cock and he felt all the tension leave him.

His head falling back with a slight grunt at the way you began taking his length in your mouth and hands occupying his balls. “That's it, good girl. So sweet t’me.” At the sentence alone you grind your hips harder and took him deeper. Bobbing your head, his hands reached to pull and tug your hair back. Spit was easily drooling down his cock and pooling near his balls when you pulled back to give them some love. Moving your hand up and down his cock you licked and sucked his balls and made sure they were fully coated in your spit before taking him in your mouth again. 

“It tastes so good daddy, I missed you.” You greedily licked the tip as more of his cum dribbled out. When you took him all the way you heard him let out a loud moan at the feeling of your tight throat constricting around him. “I’m gonna cum bunny, doing so well.” His words only encouraged you to fasten your movements. Your panties felt flooded at the noises and curses especaping his mouth as he finally came and his cum filled your mouth. Your hands moved from his balls to help stroke him and milk his cock completely dry and give you everything he had to offer. “That’s it bunny, swallow daddy’s cum.” With your mouth full you happily swallowed and opened your mouth wide to show him.

He beamed as he looked at you, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip before leaning in and encapsulating your mouth with his. Your tongue greedily licked into his mouth, moaning as his lips sucked around your tongue. Your kiss was messy as you licked into each other and he stroked your neck. His hand soon reached to take your neck, squeezing it before he pulled you back away from him.

“Go lay down. Going to help your poor pussy out honey.” Your pussy ached the moment you climbed off the stuffy and towards the headboard. Your hair laying across the pillows and your thighs clenched together. Harry completely discarded his clothes that had been resting by his ankles and climbed up on the bed. His hands gripped your thighs as he pulled them apart and his eyes quickly zeroed in on the flimsy panties that were doing a poor job at covering you up.  

His hands tightly gripped your thighs as he pushed your legs up, your knees resting up by your chest. “Hold your thighs for me bunny.” You quickly complied, hands resting on the backs of your thighs as you kept your legs up in order for him to have easy access to you. 

He tsked and mockily pouted at you just from the state of your panties, the current position making your cunt almost swallow your thong. “My poor bunny. Look at the mess we got here. Waited all day for me, humped your little stuffy, and took me down your throat like a good girl. Your pussy is just aching for me, isn't it honey?” 

“Yes daddy. Needed you so bad.” You spoke as you gazed at him, his eyes still fixated on the condition of your panties. 

“I can see that. Bet it’s just waiting to be licked up.” His hands on the sides of your ass moved to grab the side of your panties, expecting him to pull them down, he did the opposite. Your panties now pulled up higher as he gazed at the way your pussy swallowed the panties, your lips now on either side. You couldn’t help but let out a whine at the friction it caused to your clit. His index finger moving to stroke your folds that were bulging against the fabric. Once he made contact with your clit you couldn’t help but speak up. 

“Daddy p-please. I’ve needed you so bad.” You whimpered out. He looked up to see your watery eyes. Who was he to deny you? He hand left and soon your panties were pulled down, a string of your juices connecting and you saw his eyes darken when he made eye contact with your bare cunt. 

“Oh bunny, look at this poor, weepy, little pussy. She's a mess f’me.” His lips pressed to your thighs as he took in a deep breath and groaned. “God you smell so fucking good. Gonna lick you up and make it all better. Doesn’t that sound nice angel?” You eagerly nodded and anticipated his next move. 

He wasted no more time, immediately diving in by licking a fat stripe up your folds, tasting your juices. You let out a sob at the feeling, what you have been waiting for all day and it felt incredible. His tongue licked up all your excitement that kept leaking, not swallowing it, but spitting it right back out on your clit and eagerly lapping at it. You couldn’t help but drop your hands from your thighs and reach for his hair. Wanting to pull and tug on it but his movements were paused as he lifted his head. 

“Nuh uh angel. You gotta hold your thighs up f’me, be a good girl.” You pouted but nevertheless moved your hands back to your thighs to keep them held up. He smiled appreciatively at you before diving back in. 

His tongue making kitten licks at your clit as the noises that left your mouth were obscene. His hands tightened on the sides of your ass as you kept wiggling, finding it hard to stay still. Harry’s tongue didn’t let up. He kept slurping at the juices coming from your weepy hole and groaned against you. 

“God baby, you’re so fucking wet,” his one hand reaching up and using to fingers to spread your pussy lips. “Juices are leaking everywhere honey, taste so good.” He licked up more of your arousal, spat it against your clit once again before his fingers took over to trace circles against you. His tongue soon prodded at your hole before he licked into it.

You couldn’t help the moans that escaped you. His lips, tongue, and fingers felt so good. Harry, appreciating the feedback, just became more eager to please you. His fingers replaced his tongue, inserting two into your pussy and his tounge connecting with your clit had your eyes rolling back. He swirled it against you, sucking on your clit as he groaned at the noises of your wet pussy and his fingers. 

“God honey, pussy’s fucking soaking for me isn’t it? Just swallowing up my fingers and leaking juices everywhere.” He looked up at you between your thighs to see you watching with your lips parted in an o shape at how incredible it felt. Both his lips and fingers parting from you, making you almost whine as the knot in your tummy was approaching its breaking point. “Want to feel you cum on my tongue bunny. Wanna taste your cum leaking out of your pretty pink pussy.” His palm came down your pussy, slapping it. His cold and thick rings leaving a stinging that was soon soothed by his tongue connecting again and lapping you up. 

You cried out, finding it more difficult than ever to keep your hands on your thighs and not tug his hair. You knew better though. Keeping some restraint, you leaned back, closing your eyes at how good it felt and how close you were. 

“Daddy, I’m g-gonna cum, can I please cum.”

“Of course you can cum baby, be a good girl and cum for me.” The combination of his slurping against your pussy, him brutally fingering you, and the lewd noises that came from both, the knot finally burst. 

You cried out, hands at last touching his hair and pulling as he licked you through your orgasm. He didn’t pull your hands away, simply letting it slide this time as you tugged his locks and scratched at his scalp. Your hips rocked into his face at the incredible high you were experiencing. He kept slurping at your pussy until he collected all your juices. 

Instead of swallowing, he simply climbed up to you before tugging your lips open and spitting it into your open mouth. He roughly pressed his lips to yours. His tongue pushed your excitement all around your mouth as you did the same to him, both of you groaning at how filthy it was. He parted from you watching you swallow your own juices and smirked. 

“Did so good for me baby. Such a fucking angel.” You smiled back at him, grabbing his shoulders to bring him in for another kiss. Parting from each other, he grabbed you to clean up.

Soon returning back to the bed from the bathroom, you both fall asleep in each other's arms, beyond tired but extremely content. 

[kenziiie]

pornstar!nanami headcannons!

pornstar!nanami is a legend in the industry. clean-cut, respectful, and serious about his work—but the moment you walked in for your first scene together? man was fighting for composure.

pornstar!nanami doesn’t usually break character. but seeing your thick thighs, soft belly, stretch marks and confident little smirk? had him adjusting his pants off-camera. “professionalism,” he mumbled under his breath. meanwhile his dick said otherwise.

pornstar!nanami is known for his control—never rushes, never gets sloppy. but something about you makes him snap. he swears he’s just gonna do the scene but ends up actually finishing inside you, forgetting the camera’s there. everyone on set is quiet… until someone yells “cut!” like they just watched real love.

pornstar!nanami becomes possessive after your second scene. he’ll tell directors he only wants to work with you. not in a jealous way—more like, “she brings out my best performances.” (translation: no one else gets me hard the way she does.)

pornstar!nanami starts booking private rehearsals with you. meaning: y’all run through the scene in his dressing room the night before. just so he can “get used to the angles.” meanwhile he’s tongue-deep in your pussy and stroking himself like he’s making love to a goddess.

pornstar!nanami worships your body. like actually gets down on his knees and kisses your thighs, belly, ass, all of it. he calls it “the softest heaven a man could lay in.” he doesn’t care if the camera’s rolling or not. to him, your body deserves a standing ovation.

pornstar!nanami starts refusing scripts where he doesn’t get to go down on you. he’s too good at it—slow licks, eye contact, moaning into it like it’s his life’s purpose. and he loves when you ride his face, thick thighs trapping his head like he’s being suffocated in gold.

pornstar!nanami starts filming POV scenes just so he can keep the camera on you. he wants the world to see your back dimples, the jiggle of your ass, the way your moans crack when he presses just right. “no one’s fucking her like i do,” he mutters between takes.

pornstar!nanami has a fanbase that slowly turns into your fanbase. he doesn’t mind. in fact, he promotes the hell out of you. “if you’re not following her, you’re not serious about porn.” he says it with that same deadpan face—but the truth is, he’s proud.

pornstar!nanami eventually says fuck the cameras. wants to take you on a vacation and film just for you two. no scripts, no crew. just him worshipping you on a balcony, between satin sheets, on his knees in the shower, whispering, “this is what you deserve, my star.”

————

his body is pressed so tight against yours you can feel every hard line of him through your skin. his hands clamp down on your hips, fingers sinking into the softness like he’s marking you—claiming you. he drags you back harder with every brutal thrust, fucking you in a ruthless mating press that leaves you gasping, every slam echoing through the room.

his cock slides deep inside you, fucking you so raw and relentless that your thighs tremble under the strain, spread wide and held tight against his hips. the sound of skin slapping skin, wet and heavy, fills the quiet space like a filthy rhythm only you two can hear.

his breath is hot on your neck, voice rough and low as he growls, “you’re so fucking tight, you feel like you were made for me.”

he drags his nails down your hips, leaving little scratches as he pounds deeper, hips snapping hard, each stroke more desperate than the last. your body arches back into him, moans spilling out in messy, breathless gasps as he buries himself all the way in, claiming every inch.

“look at you,” he snarls, voice thick with need, “wrapping around me like you were born for this. don’t hold back—make me feel it.”

your nails dig into the sheets, body shaking as he fucks you with a brutal, demanding rhythm. every slam presses you further into the mattress, every grind of his hips pulls a scream from your throat.

he’s ruthless, unforgiving, fucking you like he won’t ever let go—grinding you down with the weight of his body, hips slamming, breath ragged against your ear. his fingers dig into your skin, dragging you back with every hard thrust like he’s never going to stop.

“cum for me,” he growls, voice breaking with raw hunger, “let me hear you scream my name.”

[guliexe]

—ON THE LOW 18+

Dealer!Nicholas/Wang Yixiang x Female!Reader

warnings/tags: slow burn, dealer/stoner!nicho, i call him weno in this, soft dom!nicho, shy!reader, loverboy!nicho, drug use, shotgunning, romantic, making out, dry humping, praising, fingering, oral (f. receiving), p in v, mating press, crying, unprotected sex, confessing, aftercare

♡ you started buying weed for your friends and ended up falling for the dealer—turns out, he fell even harder.

w/c: 9.7k (no proofread)

You’d seen him around long before you ever spoke to him. He wasn’t the kind of guy you could ignore. Not because he was loud, Weno was anything but loud, but because he had this presence. Calm, quiet, and detached, like nothing ever really touched him. He was always there but just out of reach. The kind of person who didn’t care if people were watching, but somehow still ended up being the one everyone looked at. You had a couple classes near the same buildings. He always showed up late, always dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed—big hoodie, baggy jeans, backpack hanging off one shoulder. Never rushed. Never looked stressed. Just there. He’d walk past where you and your friends were sitting on the grass and barely glance your way. But even that one second felt heavier than it should. You didn’t know much about him, but you noticed him. You always had. Weno wasn’t exactly a mystery, everyone on campus knew what he did, they just didn’t talk about it. Not out loud, anyway. The stories passed around in whispers. That he sells, and it’s good shit too. That he never chased customers, people came to him. That if he liked you, he might give you more than you paid for. That if he really liked you, you’d know.

You didn’t know if any of that was true. But what you did know was that your friends wanted weed and were too scared to go get it themselves. So they asked you. Apparently, being the quiet one made you the designated “safe” option. It wasn’t like you and Weno were strangers, anyway. You’d talked a few times now. Nothing long, quick chats during pickups, the occasional hi at a party when you passed by each other. He’d never made you feel weird or unsafe. Just… flustered. A little warm in the chest, a little unsure what to say next. He had a way of watching you that felt deliberate, even when he said nothing at all. Your friend had shoved some cash into your hand at the last minute, babbling about how “he’s chill, he’s not scary, just please go for me, I can’t” — and you’d sighed, texting him before you could overthink it. He told you to meet him behind the dorms. 6:30. You almost didn’t go. You weren’t sure why he made you nervous, he hadn’t done anything to deserve that label. But something about him felt sharp beneath all the calm. Like he could see through you if he wanted to. When you rounded the corner that evening, he was already leaning against the side of his car, phone in hand, headphones around his neck. The sun was low, painting the edges of his face gold. You caught yourself staring before you could stop. He looked up as you approached. “Didn’t expect you,” he said, not moving. You blinked, “Why?” He shrugged, “Thought one of your loud friends would be the one to show. You’re not really the type to do this.” It wasn’t teasing exactly, but the way he said it made your face warm. You cleared your throat. “They made me come.” “Mm,” he hummed. “Figured.”

He pushed off the car, pulling a ziplock from his hoodie pocket. You reached for it automatically, but he didn’t hand it over right away. “You ever tried it?” You shook your head. “No. It’s not really… my thing.” He tilted his head slightly. Not judging, just observing. “Didn’t think it was.” he chuckled softly, then he handed it to you, fingers brushing yours for half a second too long. You looked down at your hand, not at the bag, but at where your skin still tingled. “You’re good,” he said quietly, “Let me know next time.” You nodded, muttered a soft thanks, already starting to turn away, but then he said your name. You froze and glanced back. He was still standing by his car, one hand in his pocket, the other lazily spinning his keys around his finger. The way he looked at you made your stomach flip, like he wasn’t just looking at you, but through you. “You always do stuff for your friends?” His tone was casual, but the question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?” He shrugged a little. “They want something, and you’re the one who shows up.” A pause. “That happen a lot?”You weren’t sure how to answer. It did happen a lot. They asked, you went. Not because you wanted to, but because it felt easier than saying no. You glanced down at the ziplock in your hand. “I guess,” you mumbled. “I don’t know.” He hummed low, like that told him everything he needed to know. You looked back up, ready to say something else—anything, maybe even defend yourself, but he beat you to it. “You’re a good girl.” The words were soft and genuine, but they landed heavy. Your breath caught. His gaze didn’t waver—steady, calm, like he hadn’t just said something that made your skin go warm all over. You didn’t know what to do with that. You didn’t even know what it meant coming from him. You just knew it made something flutter in your stomach. “Thanks,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. You turned and walked off a little too quickly, heart pounding, ears hot, his voice still echoing behind your ribs. You’re a good girl. You didn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. It wasn’t long before your friends asked again. Same excuse, same tone, a whiny “please, he already knows you” and cash pushed into your hand like you owed them something. You hesitated more this time. Not because of them, but because of him. You hadn’t stopped thinking about last time. It replayed in your head again and again. You stared at his contact in your phone for some minutes before typing out the message.

You

hey my friends wanna grab again

He replied two minutes later.

Weno

same place 7:30

When you showed up this time, he was inside his car, driver’s door open, music playing low through the speakers. He looked up as you approached and smiled, lazy and half-lidded. “Hey,” he said, voice low. “Hey.”You tried not to sound nervous. You weren’t even sure why you were nervous. This wasn’t new. You’d done this before. But this time, it felt different. You felt different. He stepped out, shutting the car door behind him as he pulled the same ziplock from the pocket of his jeans. You took it wordlessly, but his fingers brushed yours again, on purpose this time. You could feel it in the way he didn’t rush, didn’t pull away immediately. “Still not trying it?” he asked, tilting his head. You shook your head. “Not yet.” He raised a brow. “Why not?” “I just… haven’t.” You tucked the bag quickly into your jacket pocket like it might deflect the attention. “You scared?” The way he asked it wasn’t mocking, just curious, like he wanted to understand you, not challenge you. You hesitated. “No,” you said finally. “Just don’t wanna.” He nodded slowly, watching you again with that unreadable expression. “Still doing things for your friends, though.” You pressed your lips together. “I guess.” “They ever do stuff for you?” You blinked. “What?” He shrugged. “Just wondering.” You didn’t answer. Mostly because you didn’t have one. He could probably tell, because he didn’t push. He just looked at you for a long second, eyes dropping to your mouth before flicking back up to meet your gaze as he rolled a blunt for him. “You should stop letting people use you.” The bluntness of it caught you off guard. You shifted on your feet, unsure whether to say thank you or tell him it wasn’t like that, even though maybe it was. “You don’t even like them that much, do you?” Your breath hitched. “They’re my friends.” “Mm,” he hummed. “If you say so.”

After that, it happened a few more times. The same routine: a text, a time, a quiet walk behind the dorms where he’d be waiting. Sometimes he was standing. Sometimes in the driver’s seat with the door open. Sometimes already smoking, low music humming from the speakers. And each time, it got a little easier to look him in the eye. But also harder not to look too long. Weno never talked much. He didn’t fill silence just to hear himself speak. He asked things, small things, personal in ways that didn’t feel invasive, just seen. He was trying to piece you together quietly, without making a show of it. You’d come with your friends’ money in your pocket and leave with more than you paid for. Not every time, but enough that you noticed. When you offered to give him more, he just shook his head, said “You’re good,” and he meant it, it wasn’t just about the cash anymore. You didn’t tell your friends about how often you started going. Sometimes it wasn’t even about picking up anymore. You’d hand over the cash, but he’d wave it off. “Not this time.” You started to wonder if he even gave you real amounts. If this was still a deal or just an excuse. What you did know was that somewhere along the way, something started to shift.

It was in the way your pulse picked up when his name lit up your screen. In how you started getting ready earlier than you needed to. In how you made sure your outfit and make up was cute before leaving, like that would help keep your face from giving you away when he looked at you like he always did. It was on the low. No one really knew how often you were seeing him now—certainly not your friends. To them, it was still just you doing the awkward task they were too scared for. They didn’t know that half the time you went to Weno now, it wasn’t even because of them. Sometimes they didn’t ask at all—you just found yourself texting him anyway. And he always said yes. You weren’t sure when it stopped being about weed. You weren’t sure it ever really was. Sometimes you’d sit with him for a while. In the passenger seat of his car, parked in the same quiet lot behind the dorms. He’d roll one and lean back with the window cracked, slow smoke curling out into the night while music filled the silence. He never pushed anything on you. Never asked why you stayed. But you stayed. You weren’t good at talking about yourself, and he didn’t make you. He just gave you space to exist, and maybe that was what started doing it. Maybe that’s why you kept feeling warmer every time you saw him. More sure that he saw you. And you started to open up to him. You two would hang out and talk about anything and anyone very frequently.

You were curled up in the passenger seat, legs tucked under you, jacket zipped halfway. The night was cool, and the air smelled like weed and cologne, smoke curling from the blunt between his fingers. His playlist low in the background that made it feel like time moved slower in his car. You hadn’t said much in the last ten minutes. Just sat there, letting the silence hang. But it wasn’t awkward. Weno never made things awkward. You gave him a small smile, eyes drifting out the window. The streetlights cast a warm glow across the dashboard. He tapped the ash into the tray and leaned back, one arm stretched across the back of your seat like he didn’t even think about it. “I don’t get it,” you said quietly after a moment. “You do this with all your clients?” “Do what?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly, playful but unreadable. “This.” You motioned vaguely between you. “Sit in the car, talk like this, not charge them.” He chuckled once, deep and soft in his chest. “No.” You blinked. “No?” He turned his head, looked right at you, and shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “They’re not you.” Your stomach fluttered. You tried to play it off, but your smile gave you away. He tilted his head slightly, watching you through the soft haze in the car. “You know you’re my favorite, right?” Your head snapped toward him. “What?” He smirked, exhaled a slow breath, eyes never leaving yours. “Client,” he added after a beat, but the pause was on purpose. His smirk deepened like he knew what he was doing to you. Your face went warm immediately. “Shut up,” you muttered, covering your smile with your hand. “I’m serious.” His tone was calm. “You don’t talk much, you don’t ask dumb questions, you never waste my time.” “Oh,” you said quietly. But your smile stayed. “So I’m convenient.” He leaned a little closer, voice dropping low. “Nah. You’re cute.” Your heart jumped. You didn’t know where to look. You didn’t know what to say. So you laughed—awkward and soft, trying to bury your face in your hands like that might cool your cheeks. You left a little later than usual that night.

Three days later, when your screen lit up with a text from him, you answered in less than a minute.

Weno

u free tonight?

wanna chill for a bit?

♡

You

yeah :)

same spot?

♡

Weno

pull up at 10

no rush

You tried not to read into it too much. But you still picked out a different hoodie this time, your favorite one, did a little extra on your make up, styled your hair in way you knew framed your face best. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t anything. But your hands still felt warm as you walked out to meet him. His car was already there when you arrived. You climbed into the passenger seat, familiar now with the way the door stuck a little when you pulled it. Same playlist was on, and the heat was turned up just enough to make the inside feel cozy. He glanced over as you settled in, eyes flicking down to your mouth before meeting your gaze again. “Hey,” he said, voice smooth, quiet. “Hey,” you murmured back, smiling a little.

The next hour passed easily, like it always did when you were with him. You talked about nothing and everything, classes, music, random campus drama you weren’t even involved in, movies you both halfway remembered, the last weird dream you had. He laughed more than usual tonight, low and slow, eyes squinting a little when something you said caught him off guard. His hand rested on the steering wheel as he listened, thumb tapping the leather in a lazy rhythm. He made you feel comfortable, like whatever you had to say mattered even if it didn’t. Like he was listening just because it was you talking. At some point, he lit up. You were mid-sentence when he leaned forward to spark the lighter, the soft flick of it barely cutting into the music. He offered it to you once out of habit, holding the blunt out between two fingers, and this time you didn’t shake your head immediately. You hesitated. Then, before you could overthink it, you took it. Your fingers brushed his. His expression didn’t change, but something in his gaze lingered longer than before. “You sure?” he asked, voice soft, a little more serious now. You slowly nodded. “Yeah. Just—don’t laugh at me if I cough.” He smiled, “I won’t.” He leaned back into his seat. “Promise.” You inhaled, a small hit, like you’d seen him do a hundred times now. It burned, made your throat tickle, your eyes water just a little, but you didn’t cough. He watched carefully, still smiling. “Good girl,” he murmured.

Your chest tightened at the words, heat blooming under your skin before you could stop it. You handed it back to him quickly, trying to focus on the burn in your lungs, the soft thrum of bass in the background, anything except how warm you suddenly felt. Time got slower after that. An hour passed in a haze, soft laughter, lazy conversation, both of you sinking deeper into your seats, the windows fogging slightly. He smoked again, and passed it back and forth to you. Your body felt lighter. Music melted into the background, his voice a little rough now. You both stared out at the empty parking lot for a while, just existing. It was quiet in the way that felt close, not awkward. Every time your knee brushed his, he didn’t move. Every time you shifted, his eyes flicked toward your mouth, then back to the road like he didn’t want to get caught looking. And maybe it was the high, or the way the space between you had been shrinking since the start, but something changed. You turned to say something and caught him already looking at you, staring. His arm was still draped behind your seat, but now his fingers were brushing your shoulder, light and casual. You blinked at him. “What?” you whispered, voice lower than before. He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you for a long second, eyes warm, thoughtful. “C’mere.” You didn’t even think. You just leaned forward, heart thudding quietly behind your ribs as his hand slid slowly to the back of your neck. He tilted his head slightly. His lips brushed yours soft at first, testing. Then again, firmer. You leaned into it. Your heart stuttered, hands unsure of where to go. One found the edge of his hoodie. The other pressed lightly to his chest. His mouth moved against yours like he’d been thinking about this for a while. He wasn’t in any rush now that it was finally happening. You kissed him back slow, high and a little breathless, your skin buzzing all over. He pulled back eventually, just enough to look at you, eyes dark and steady.

“You’re high,” he said, almost teasing. “So are you,” you whispered. He smiled, gaze dropping to your lips again. “Yeah. But I still meant it.” You smiled, small and dazed, and tucked your legs under you again, curling back into your seat. The car was quiet for a few more minutes. Nothing changed. But everything had. And when you finally said you should go, he didn’t stop you. Just nodded, reached over, and opened the door for you like he always did. Before you stepped out, he caught your wrist gently. You turned back. His eyes searched yours for a moment. “Text me when you get in.” You nodded, “Okay.”

You

made it home :)

♡

Weno

good

was starting to think u got lost

♡

You

nope

just still thinking

♡

Weno

about?

♡

You

you

♡

Weno

yeah?

what part

♡

You

the obvious part

♡

Weno

mm

i liked that part too

didn’t rlly want u to go

♡

You

u didn’t?

♡

Weno

nah

wanted to kiss u again

♡

You

i wanted to too

but i got nervous :(

♡

Weno

it’s ok bby

will i see u again soon?

♡

You

yeah

if u want to

♡

Weno

i do

♡

You

can’t wait

goodnight weno :)

♡

Weno

me neither

gn <3

You didn’t stop thinking about that night. Or his texts. Or when he said he wanted to kiss you again. The way your heart stuttered when he called you bby like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it was already normal between you. It wasn’t, not really. But it was starting to be. You’d kept texting after that. Not every second of the day, but enough. Little check-ins, good mornings, music recs, late night questions that felt heavier than they sounded. He was never overly forward, not the type to blow up your phone or say things just to get a reaction, but everything he did say stuck with you. You were head over heels. Smiling at your phone and then burying your face in your pillow like an idiot every time. So when one of your friends mentioned the party coming up—some frat guy’s birthday, everyone was going, “you have to come, it’s gonna be huge”—you didn’t think much of it at first. Until she added, casually, “Pretty sure Weno’s gonna be there too, so you can’t get us some stuff as well?” That made your heart skip. You played it off, said “yeah, cool” and shrugged, but your brain had already started spiraling. What if you saw him? What if you didn’t? What if he ignored you in front of everyone? What if he didn’t? You told yourself you weren’t going for him. But you still stood in front of your closet longer than usual. You picked a dress—short, tight, something you hadn’t worn before. Simple, but it hugged you in all the right places. You did your makeup with more care than usual, spritzed perfume on your neck, your wrists, let your hair fall soft and full around your shoulders. You didn’t tell anyone why you looked a little extra tonight. But you kind of hoped he’d be there. And you really hoped he’d notice.

The house was already packed by the time you got there—music thumping through the walls, bodies crammed together in every corner, red cups in almost every hand. Lights low, flashing sometimes, music echoing through a speaker in the living room. It smelled like sweat, beer, weed, and cheap cologne. Typical. Your friends disappeared as soon as you walked in, squealing at someone they recognized near the kitchen. You stayed back for a second, just long enough to scan the crowd. Not because you were looking for anyone. Not on purpose, anyway. And then you saw Weno. Leaning against the far wall near the stairs, hoodie half-zipped over a white tank, cargo pants hanging low on his hips, the hem of his boxers peeking a little. He wasn’t dancing. Wasn’t talking loud or laughing or drinking like the rest of them. Just standing there, calm and unreadable, eyes lazily moving through the room like he’d been here a hundred times before. He was talking to someone, dapping them up quick, pulling something from his pocket and handing it off like it was nothing. No one looked twice. Just a quiet exchange, over in seconds. He didn’t try to be subtle, he didn’t have to. People came to him. You stayed near the edge of the crowd, drink in hand, pretending to be more focused on your friends than you were. But your eyes kept drifting back. He looked good. Effortlessly good. And he hadn’t seen you yet. You tried not to look over too often. Tried to focus on your friends and their chaotic conversations, the loud music, the colorful lights. You laughed at jokes that didn’t really register. Nodded along. Sipped water from your cup and told yourself it wasn’t that serious. He wasn’t even talking to you. He was doing his own thing. Still, your gaze kept drifting. Just to see if he was still there. Still. Every time you checked, he was. Some minutes passed like that—just you pretending to be more chill than you felt while your friends chattered and moved toward the crowd. You stayed behind, needing a second to breathe. You slipped into the kitchen, mostly empty now, except for the quiet hum of the fridge and the faint bass vibrating through the floor. You reached for the fridge handle, intent on just grabbing some cold water and hiding out for a bit, but when you turned, he was already there. Standing just inside the doorway. Watching. Your breath caught.

He didn’t say anything at first. His eyes scanned you slowly—top to bottom, unhurried. You felt it like a heatwave, settling low in your stomach. His gaze was darker than usual. Focused, sharp. You dropped your eyes immediately, trying not to fidget. Tugged lightly on the hem of your dress like it might help somehow, like maybe it covered more than it did. You felt your cheeks flush without him even having to speak. You weren’t even sure why you were so nervous. You’d seen him like this before, but something about tonight made it worse. Made you bite your lip without thinking. Made your cheeks burn just from the way he looked at you. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he said, voice calm and even. A little rough from the smoke, but still warm. You glanced up, heart racing. “Yeah,” you said, “Wasn’t really planning to, but… my friends dragged me.” He smiled a little. “I’m glad you came.” Your breath hitched. You weren’t expecting that. “You look good tonight.” It landed heavy in your chest. No teasing. No smirk. Just him saying it like it was a fact. Your whole body flushed. “Oh,” you said, voice small. “Um. Thanks.” He nodded once, eyes still on you, and then glanced back toward the hallway. “I’m heading up to the balcony for a bit. If you wanna get some air.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Just gave you one last look—soft, lingering—and pushed off the doorframe to leave. “Come find me,” he said, and then he was gone. Leaving you standing in the kitchen, heart racing, lip caught between your teeth, wondering how the hell he always made you feel like this without even trying.

You lingered in the kitchen for a while after he left, pretending to scroll through your phone, half-listening to the party still pulsing through the walls. Your friends had fully disappeared into the crowd by now, probably dancing or taking shots or screaming over music. You told yourself you were just cooling off. Just getting a break from the noise. But you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked at you. The way he said it—You look good tonight. Like it wasn’t up for debate. Like he meant it, and he knew you’d heard him loud and clear. Eventually, you texted some excuse about needing air, said you’d be right back if anyone even cared that you left. You slipped out of the kitchen and made your way upstairs, heartbeat loud in your ears, feeling a little ridiculous and a lot nervous. The hallway was quiet, just some closed doors and the muffled hum of bass below. You found the door to the balcony slightly cracked open, soft breeze pushing in from the night. You pushed it open gently. There he was. He sat on a low, beat-up couch tucked against the wall. One leg stretched out, the other bent, arm thrown over the backrest like he owned the space. Head tilted back just slightly, hoodie slipping off his shoulder, lips parted around the blunt as he took a slow drag. The ember glowed red in the dark, lighting up the sharp cut of his jaw, the curve of his mouth. He looked unfairly good. Like the air belonged to him. Like nothing touched him. He turned his head lazily when he heard the door, eyes finding yours through the smoke. Didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything for a second. Just looked at you, then took another slow hit, exhaling with a quiet sigh before speaking.

“Knew you’d come.” You swallowed hard, heart kicking up again like you hadn’t already spent the last fifteen minutes trying to calm it down. His voice was low, almost lazy, but there was something behind it—something that made your chest tighten a little. You stepped out and quietly shut the door behind you. You sat down beside him, slow and careful, the cushion dipping under your weight. His knee brushed yours just slightly, warm through the fabric. You glanced over, then down again, chewing the inside of your cheek. “I just—I’d rather be up here with you than down there in all that chaos.” That got him to finally look at you. Head tilted slightly, eyes narrowed just a little like he was trying to read deeper than what you were saying out loud. He didn’t answer right away. Just flicked the ash from the blunt, leaned back again, eyes still on you. You breathed in through your nose, steadying yourself. Then softer, barely louder than the wind, you added, “I missed you.” He turned his head fully now, letting the blunt rest between his fingers. The pause that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Warm. His eyes softened just a bit. “Yeah?” he said, voice a little quieter than before. “I missed you too.” It landed in your chest like a weight—like the kind of thing you weren’t sure you were allowed to want, but did anyway. He leaned in a little, not close enough to crowd you, but just enough for his knee to press softly into yours. His eyes didn’t leave your face.

“You been thinking about me?” he asked, voice still calm, but something about it made your stomach twist. You blinked. Heat rushed to your cheeks again, and you had to look away. “…Maybe.” He smiled at that, small and crooked and unfairly attractive. “Same.” And then he took another hit like he hadn’t just wrecked you with a single word. He let the silence hang for a few seconds after that, the blunt burning slow between his fingers, and then he said it quietly, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Come closer.” Your eyes flicked to his, heart stuttering a little. He didn’t look away, didn’t shift or make room, just waited. You hesitated for a second and then moved, scooting over until your leg was pressed fully against his. He reached out casually, like it was second nature, and slid his arm around your shoulders. A soft tug, and suddenly you were leaning into him, your head falling against his chest like it belonged there. You could feel everything. His warmth, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the steady thump of his heart under your cheek. His hoodie smelled like smoke and laundry and him. He brought the blunt to his lips again, took a hit, then lowered it and turned his head slightly toward you.“Want some?” he murmured. You shook your head, just once. “Not right now.” He hummed, didn’t push. Just let his hand stay where it was on your shoulder, thumb brushing idly against your arm. You didn’t say anything after that. Neither did he. You both just sat there, pressed together on the old balcony couch, the party a muffled storm below you, the stars wide and scattered above. You listened to the wind. The soft scratch of fabric when he shifted. The occasional drag and exhale as he smoked. You closed your eyes for a second and just let yourself feel all of it.

He shifted a little, moving his hand lower on your arm, caressing the skin, his breath warm against your hair. You felt his heartbeat quicken just a bit beneath your cheek. The silence between you was thick. to be noticed. You glanced up at him, your eyes catching his in the dim light. There was something softer there now. Something unspoken, but heavy. Without breaking eye contact, his hand moved to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering near your temple. Your breath hitched. He leaned down just a little, voice low and casual, “You’re beautiful.” You swallowed, barely able to meet his gaze as your face flushed again. Then, just like that, he closed the tiny gap between you. His lips found yours slow and gentle, before deepening the kiss, like he’d been wanting to do this all night. You melted into him, your hand slowly reaching up to rest on his chest as the world around you faded. It’s not gentle anymore, it’s urgent, needy. His hand tightens in your hair, pulling you closer as his tongue slides against yours, deep and demanding. You whimper softly, the sound lost in the press of his mouth, your body melting into his. He pulls back just enough to whisper in your ear, voice husky, “Wanna get out of here? I’ve got my car nearby.” Your heart pounds so hard you’re sure he can hear it. You just nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, breath catching again as he wraps his arm tighter around you.

He doesn’t rush you, just laces his fingers through yours, warm and firm, and gives your hand a gentle tug. You follow without thinking, legs shaky as you leave the balcony behind and slip back into the quiet hallway. The party feels distant now, like the world narrowed down to just him, the weight of his hand in yours, the aftertaste of his kiss still lingering on your lips. The walk to his car is quiet, but not awkward. When he unlocks the door and slides into the driver’s seat, you hesitate for half a second before slipping in beside him. The doors shut with a soft thud, sealing you both inside the low, warm hum of the vehicle. He leans back, legs stretched out, calm like always, but there’s a heat behind his eyes when he looks at you. A spark still flickering from earlier. “I’m gonna roll real quick,” he murmurs, pulling out his tray and grinder from the center console like it’s second nature. You nod, watching him work—his fingers nimble, methodical, the lighter’s flame briefly illuminating his face when he brings the blunt to his lips. The car fills with the earthy scent of smoke, and his head tilts back slightly as he exhales, half-lidded. He looks so fucking fine like this, bathed in shadows and smoke, hoodie loose around his collarbones, the faint red glow of the blunt lighting up his lips. Then he turns his head toward you again and you don’t even get the chance to fully catch your breath before he leans in again, free hand finding your cheek as he kisses you.

The smoke still lingers on his breath, and you melt into it, moaning softly into his mouth as his tongue slides against yours. His fingers are on your thigh, squeezing gently as he pulls you closer. The kiss turns messier, full of need, soft gasps and low groans echoing through the car. Your hand grips his hoodie low, holding on like you might fall apart if you let go. He pulls back only enough to whisper, breath ghosting over your lips, “Could do this all night.” Then his mouth is on yours again. More heat, more tongue, more breathless little noises spilling from your lips as your body starts to tremble in his hands. Without breaking the kiss, his hands move, one sliding up your thigh, the other settling on your waist. “C’mere,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice low but soft. You barely register what he means until his hands are guiding you, pulling you gently, firmly, right onto his lap. One leg at a time, knees sinking into the seat on either side of him, hands braced on his shoulders, your dress hiking up as you settle onto him, straddling him, face to face. He leans back just enough to look at you, eyes hooded, red from the weed, blunt still between his fingers. One of his hands slides up your side, fingers grazing your waist and ribs over the thin fabric of your dress. He takes his time with it, like he’s learning your shape. Your breath stutters as his hand travels higher, stopping just under your arm. He brings the blunt to his lips again, takes a long, slow hit, his chest rising beneath you, and then leans in close. His free hand curves around the back of your neck, guiding your face closer to his. You part your lips on instinct, and he exhales the smoke right into your mouth, warm and slow, curling over your tongue. Your eyes flutter shut as you breathe it in, heart thudding, and then he kisses you. Kisses you like he’s taking the air right back from your lungs.

Your breath catches when you feel his hands slide down, beneath the hem of your dress. He pushes it up slowly, bunching the fabric around your waist until the cool air hits your thighs. You shift slightly, nervous, thighs tightening around his hips as he exposes more of you. He doesn’t say anything, just stares for a second, eyes flicking down to where your panties are now visible, his palms firm on the back of your thighs. “Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself. Then he leans forward, mouth finding your neck, and everything gets messier after that. He kisses down the side of your throat, open, warm, wet, his lips dragging along the skin, tongue flicking against your pulse point, teeth grazing just enough to make your hips twitch against him. You whimper quietly, trying to stay still, but he’s already pulling you closer with both hands, guiding your body into his like he knows exactly what you need. You tilt your head for him without thinking, shy sounds escaping your mouth as he works his way up to your jaw, then down again, kissing a little rougher now. “Weno…” you whisper, voice breaking around his name. “Shh,” he murmurs, his voice low against your skin. “You’re okay.” Your arms wrap around his shoulders instinctively, face burning as you shift in his lap, unintentionally grinding down just slightly. His reaction is immediate, a quiet groan right into your neck, his hands tightening on your hips. “Just like that,” he breathes.

Your hips grind down harder without thinking, breath coming out in shaky gasps as the friction starts to feel almost too good. His hands slip under the back of your dress, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass, guiding your movement like he needs it just as bad. You’re whimpering into the heated space between you, clinging to his hoodie, your body trembling slightly with every slow drag of your hips over his. Your panties are soaked. His pants are straining. The windows are fogging up, and the whole car smells like weed, sweat, and heat. He tilts his head, catching your mouth again in another deep, tongue-heavy kiss, like he can’t stop tasting you. His hand slides up your waist, grazing under the curve of your chest over the thin fabric of your dress, and you shudder, moaning softly into his mouth. Then he pulls back, just a little, resting his forehead against yours as both of you try to breathe. “Fuck,” he whispers, chest rising and falling beneath you. “You look so fucking pretty like this.” You blink at him, dazed, lips swollen and barely parted, still trying to catch your breath. He looks at you for a long second, hands still on your waist, grounding you. “I don’t wanna do this in the car,” he says, voice rough. “You deserve better than that.” Your breath hitches, heat flaring even higher at how serious he sounds. “Wanna go to my place?” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your side. You nod slowly, shy but needy, your fingers curling in the collar of his shirt, a little scared to let go. “Yeah,” you whisper, barely audible. “Okay.” He kisses you once more, soft and sweet, before pulling back just enough to reach for the keys.

The door shut with a quiet click, sealing you into the warmth of his place. It was dark, mostly, just the glow of a streetlamp slipping through the blinds, casting faint lines across the floor. Neither of you spoke. You turned slightly, lips parting like you might say something, but he was already reaching for you. His hands found your waist in the dark, pulling you in with no hesitation, and his mouth was on yours before you could even breathe. Kissing you hungrily, deep and needy. Everything he hadn’t said tonight was pouring out of him all at once, into the way he held you, the way his lips moved over yours. His grip was firm, hands splayed over your hips, your back arching into him as you kissed him back just as desperately. He walked you backwards without breaking the kiss, slow, steady steps through the short hallway, lips never leaving yours. You barely registered the corners of the space or how you ended up where you did until the back of your knees hit something soft. And then he was lowering you onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath you, and your breath caught as he hovered above you, eyes dark and steady on yours. Then, without a word, he zipped down his hoodie and took it off. Now just in a white tank, it clung to his frame in all the right places, the cut of his collarbone visible, shoulders broad and sharp under the light. He looked down at you for a second longer, breathing hard, gaze lingering on your face like he couldn’t believe you were really there. Then he leaned down, kissing you again, less rushed, but just as intense. His hands slid up your sides, fingertips ghosting over the fabric of your dress, moving deliberately, memorizing the shape of you. You whimpered softly into his mouth, fingers curling in the hem of his shirt. He pulled back for a second, eyes flicking between yours, voice low and wrecked. “You good?” he asked, forehead brushing yours. You nodded, cheeks burning, lips swollen already. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m good.”

He didn’t wait long after your answer. His mouth moved to your neck, warm and open, lips brushing your skin before he started kissing, slow, deliberate, dragging his tongue gently along the curve of your throat. You gasped, breath hitching as he sucked softly at a spot just below your jaw. Then again, a little lower. Your hips twitched beneath him when you felt his teeth graze you. “Weno—” you whispered, but it came out as more of a breath than a word. “You’re so pretty” he murmured, voice barely there, like he was talking to himself. “Always are.” His hand moved down slowly, slipping over your waist and along the outside of your thigh before sliding back up under the hem of your dress. His touch was patient, teasing, he didn’t rush. Just let his fingertips brush along the top of your thigh, higher and higher until they were tracing the edge of your panties. He pushed the fabric of your underwear to the side, slowly, and let his fingers slide between your folds, touching your bare heat. You gasped, head tilting back into the pillow, lips parting in a silent moan. “Shit,” he whispered, breath warm against your collarbone. “So soaked f’me, baby.” Your cheeks burned, thighs tensing slightly around his hand. He kissed the hollow of your throat, then lower, just above your chest, tongue wet and warm as his fingers began to move—slow circles at first, barely-there pressure that made you squirm beneath him. His free hand gripped your waist, holding you steady like he could feel how close you already were, how much you wanted him. “You’re so sensitive,” he muttered, voice deep and low, teeth grazing your skin as he kissed up to your ear.

You whimpered his name, hips grinding into his hand without meaning to. His fingers never stopped moving, dragging slick circles against your clit as he kept his mouth on your neck. Every kiss felt more urgent, but not rushed. It wasn’t just lust. It was something else. Something heavier. And then he leaned up, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think about you all the time,” he murmured, breath warm, fingers still teasing between your thighs. “Even when I’m not supposed to. Even when I try not to.” Your heart flipped, aching at how raw it sounded coming from him. “I don’t even think you know what you do to me,” he continued, a soft kiss behind your ear. “How long I’ve wanted you like this. Letting me touch you.” The words hit harder than anything else had—deeper than the kisses, deeper than his touch. Your chest tightened, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers slid into his hair, pulling him down until your lips met again. Your moans melted into his mouth, the rhythm of his fingers picking up as your hips rolled up into his hand. His other hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wider for him.

And then, without warning, he shifted his hand lower, deeper. Your lips parted in a quiet gasp as he slid one finger inside you, slow and careful. Your walls clenched around the intrusion, already aching from how worked up you were, how long he’d been teasing. He didn’t wait long before easing in a second finger, stretching you just a little more. His movements were smooth, curling them up inside you just right, drawing out whiny, breathless little sounds from your throat you couldn’t hold back. You buried your face in his shoulder, hands gripping his bicep, your hips rocking involuntarily into every slow thrust of his fingers. He moved deep and steady, his palm pressing into you, thumb dragging lazy circles over your clit in rhythm. He kept moving inside you, slow and deep, curling just right. You were so close, the tension winding tighter and tighter in your stomach, breath catching with every stroke. But just as your legs began to shake, just as your hips bucked up into his hand with a quiet, desperate moan—he pulled out. You whined at the loss, hips stuttering forward instinctively, chasing the friction. “Weno…” “I know,” he murmured, breathless himself, voice thick with need. “I know, baby.” He leaned back just enough to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere to the side. The soft light coming through the cracked door hit his chest just right—shoulders broad, abs toned, skin flushed and warm. His chain shifted against his skin when he moved.

Then he was reaching for you again, hands gentle. “Can I?” he asked, fingers brushing the hem of your dress. You nodded, cheeks hot, eyes wide and dazed. “Y-Yeah” He pulled it up slowly, lifting it over your head. His eyes dropped to your body as it was revealed to him—bare chest, soft skin, rising and falling with every shaky breath. He leaned his mouth to your nipple, giving it a soft suck while sliding your panties down your legs, dragging his hands along your thighs as he did. Then he moved lower. He settled between your legs like he belonged there, hands spreading your thighs gently, thumbs brushing along the inside. You whimpered, body already arching at the sight of him down there, the feel of his breath ghosting over your skin. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, more to himself than anything, eyes locked on your soaked center. And then he leaned in. His tongue was warm, slow, one long, deliberate lick up your folds that made your back arch off the bed. Then again, this time with more pressure, more intent. His mouth locked over your clit, sucking softly before he flattened his tongue and circled it. You gasped, hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling as your thighs tried to close around his head. He just groaned into you, gripping your hips and pulling you closer, keeping you wide open for him. The sounds—wet, messy, sinful—filled the room along with your breathy moans, soft whimpers, the quiet creak of the mattress beneath you.

He didn’t stop. His tongue moved with purpose, lapping, circling, flicking. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but moan, soft and desperate, your hips twitching with every stroke of his tongue. And then you felt his hand again. Sliding up the inside of your thigh, fingers trailing through your slick folds before one dipped inside you, curling instantly. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry. He added a second immediately, stretching you and pumping into you while his mouth never left your clit. “Weno—fuck,” you whimpered, body jolting as he curled his fingers just right. Your walls clenched around him, needy and tight. His groan vibrated through you when he felt it. His tongue pressed harder, fingers pumping deep and slow—each drag of his knuckles making your toes curl. Your moans got higher, breathier, as your body trembled under his touch. “You close, baby?” he muttered against your clit, fingers never slowing. “Wanna feel you cum on my fuckin’ fingers.” You nodded, frantic, too far gone to speak. Your back arched, thighs shaking as he held you open, ruined you with his mouth, pushed his fingers deep inside you until the heat building in your stomach finally snapped. You came hard, legs trembling, hips stuttering, a loud moan spilling from your lips as everything clenched and pulsed around him. Fingers still working you gently through it while his tongue slowed, easing the intensity but never leaving you empty. Weno pressed one last kiss to your thigh, lips lingering as he pulled his fingers from you slowly, savoring the way your body jolted at the loss. He sat back on his heels, chest rising and falling a little faster now, eyes heavy as they dragged up your body.

You watched, dazed, flushed, and breathless as he reached for the waistband of his cargos, unbuttoning and sliding them down. They hit the floor with a quiet thud, leaving him in just his boxers—black, stretched tight over the obvious bulge straining against the fabric. He palmed it slowly, eyes still fixed on you, thumb pressing down over the thick outline like it ached. You squirmed beneath him, breath catching again when he leaned forward, caging you in with his arms. He kissed you slow and deep, tongue sliding over yours, moaning into your mouth. Then he reached between you and pushed his boxers down just enough to free himself, hissing softly when his length sprang free and brushed against your thigh. “You still good?” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours, his thumb caressing your cheek. You nodded, voice caught in your throat. “Yeah… I want you.” That was all he needed. He reached down, guiding himself to your entrance, dragging the tip through your slick folds, teasing you both with the heat of it. His hand found your waist again, grounding you as he pushed in slowly—inch by inch, thick and hot and stretching you just right. You gasped, nails digging into his biceps, body arching as he filled you completely.“Fuck,” he breathed out against your mouth, kissing you again as he bottomed out. “So tight. So good.” He didn’t move right away. Just stayed there, buried deep, letting you adjust while he pressed soft kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your lips. His hands smoothed over your sides, grounding you. And then he started to move.

He started slow and deep, rolling thrusts that dragged every inch of him along your walls. Your body clung to him, welcoming each stroke like it had been waiting, aching, for this exact moment. His hands moved down your sides, palms warm and firm, before sliding under your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist. The new angle made you gasp, your head falling back into the pillow as he sank even deeper. “That’s it,” he whispered, voice all breath and gravel, “So fucking perfect like this.” You whimpered, lips parting with every slow rock of his hips, every soft press of his chest to yours. One of his hands slipped under your back, pulling you closer, the other traveling to cup your breast, squeezing gently, thumb circling your nipple. “Love your body,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing your collarbone. “Every inch. All mine now, yeah?” You could only nod, breath shaky, heart pounding. He moved again—long, deep thrusts that made your thighs tremble around him, that had you clinging tighter to his shoulders, trying to ground yourself in his touch. “So fuckin’ good,” he groaned, kissing your neck, “Fuck—look at how you take me.” He slid his hand down to your ass, gripping it tightly, pulling you up into each thrust, letting you feel just how hard he was holding back. You cried out softly, tears blurring your vision as the heat coiled tighter and tighter inside you. You felt stretched, full…loved. Every part of him was on you, in you, his lips, his hands, his voice. He slowed for just a second, chest heaving as he looked down at you.

His hand cradled your jaw, thumb brushing your lip as he whispered, “No one’s ever made me feel like this.” You blinked, another tear slipping free. He caught it with a kiss. He pushed in deep again, groaning low as your body clenched around him. Your eyes fluttered shut as your lips parted in a sob, overwhelmed. The pleasure, the emotion—it was too much, and not enough. You gasped out his name, voice broken, tears spilling freely now. “You’re doin’ so good,” he breathed, kissing the corner of your mouth. “So good for me. You feel so fuckin’ good—can’t get enough of you, baby.” He cupped your breast again, his other hand squeezing your ass as he rocked deeper, firmer, filling you completely with every thrust. The mattress creaked beneath you, skin slapping, breathy moans and whimpers. He lift your legs higher, folding them up toward your chest as his hands slid beneath your knees, guiding you open. His body shifted with yours, hovering close, his chest pressing to yours as he settled into the new position. You were utterly vulnerable, and so full. “Fuck,” he breathed as he pushed back in—deeper, impossibly deep, the new angle hitting something inside you that made your mouth fall open in a silent gasp. Your thighs trembled against his sides, your arms wrapping tight around his shoulders as he rocked into you again, slow and hard. His face was right above yours, eyes dark, mouth parted, breath hot on your cheek. His forehead pressed to yours. You pulled him down, fingers tangling in his hair, and kissed him hard, messy, open-mouthed, desperate. You sobbed into the kiss, the pleasure blurring everything, making your whole body feel like it was about to break apart in the best way.

He moaned against your mouth, thrusts picking up just slightly, deeper and deeper, hips pressing you into the mattress. One of his hands cradled your cheek as the other gripped under your thigh, holding you open for him while his body kept driving into yours, filling you perfectly. “You feel like heaven,” he whispered, kissing along your jaw between gasps. “So good for me, baby… fuck.” Your body clenched tight around him, your moans turning into cries as your nails dug into his back. “Weno— I’m close, I—please,” you gasped, barely able to form the words through the sobs that kept catching in your throat. “I got you,” he panted, hips grinding down, pace relentless now. “Cum for me, baby. Wanna feel you.” It only took another stroke. One more hit just right, and you shattered. Your second orgasm came, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your back arched, tears slipping down your cheeks as you sobbed his name, legs shaking violently around him. You clung to him like he was the only thing tethering you to earth. “Shit—baby—fuck—” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut as your body pulsed around him. “So good. So fucking good.” He barely lasted another few thrusts before he was pulling out quickly, stroking himself through the last moments, his body jerking forward with a final moan as he spilled across your stomach, thick and warm. He collapsed onto his forearms above you, forehead to yours again, breath ragged, lips ghosting yours.

He was still above you, body trembling slightly as he caught his breath, his lips brushing yours in soft, lingering kisses that felt more like confessions than touches. You were trying to breathe too, heart racing, chest rising and falling as your mind spun. Every nerve in your body was still alive, aching with how full he made you feel—physically, emotionally, all of it. And yet, even in the quiet after, something heavy sat in your chest. You swallowed hard, fingers fidgeting at his sides, your eyes darting everywhere but his face. You could feel it pressing against your tongue—those words—so big and so terrifying, but so real. Too real to keep inside. “Weno…?” you whispered, voice barely audible. He blinked down at you, soft and hazy from the afterglow. “Yeah, baby?” Your lip trembled as you looked up at him, wide-eyed and afraid. “I… I think I’m in love with you.” The second the words left your mouth, your stomach dropped. You felt exposed, like you’d stripped yourself bare in a whole new way. Your eyes filled with panic—what if he didn’t feel the same? What if this ruined everything? “I—I’m sorry,” you added quickly, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to ruin it, I just—fuck, I don’t know, I just feel so much and I couldn’t keep it in and—” He cut you off with a kiss. Not a soft one, not a careful one, but deep, sure. His hand cupped your face as he leaned into you, kissing you like he needed to feel every word you’d just said on his tongue.

When he finally pulled back, his thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching the little tear that had escaped down your cheek. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he whispered. “You could never ruin anything.” Your heart fluttered painfully. “I’ve been in love with you,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “Since before I even knew what to call it. You don’t scare me, baby. You’re the only thing that’s ever made sense.” He kissed you again, tender. His hands wrapped around you, pulling you close until your body was pressed to his, skin to skin, and you could barely breathe from how tight he held you. You buried your face in his neck, arms tucked between your chests, your heart pounding against his. The silence that followed was heavy with warmth—safe, soft. Eventually, he shifted just enough to reach for the blunt on his nightstand, lighting it with a quiet flick of his lighter. The glow lit up his face in soft orange as he took a long drag, exhaling with a sigh, head tilted back slightly. You curled into him, cheek pressed to his chest, ear catching the steady thrum of his heartbeat. His arm came around you instinctively, holding you tighter, and his hand drifted lazily into your hair, fingers combing through the strands. You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to. He held you like he was never letting go.

my other works ➵ masterlist

@0403s

© guliexe 2025 all rights reserved.

[agentpeggycartering]

running your finger down their spine, bucktommy

Thank you for the prompt, dear, and I hope you enjoy!

The last few months— the last year, really— had been rough on everyone, but things were improving. It was good to have everyone together like this again, in a backyard, surrounded by the smell of grilling meat and the sound of laughing children. And there was so much to celebrate, too.

Baby Han was growing more and more each day, and Jee was taking so well to being a big sister. Maddie was doing well, having open and honest conversations with Chimney and her doctors about how she was feeling and it wasn't anything like how she was after Jee-Yun was born.

Mara was officially part of the Wilson family, and the grin had hardly left her face since they left the courthouse after her adoption. The knowledge that she was home and never had to leave again—could never be made to leave again— settling something deep within her, putting to rest a lot of her worries and fears after everything that had happened with Councilwoman Ortiz.

Athena was smiling more often, accepting more dinner invitations. She wasn't her old self again, but no one expected her to be. They just didn't want to lose touch with her, and Buck especially didn't want her to be alone.

And, of course, they were celebrating the newly promoted Captain of the 118.

But the happiest thing, the thing that was the most important, the thing that Buck wanted to shout from the rooftops, was that he and Tommy had sat down and talked about their fears, their pasts and baggage, their expectations for their relationship and the future and had gotten back together. They were on the same page and fully committed to both each other and to doing the work to make their relationship last.

Buck is in the middle of telling Ravi a story when Tommy comes up next to him, crowding in close and resting a hand on his hip. He presses a quick kiss to Buck's cheek in greeting before he presses carefully assembled plate of food into his hand.

"Thanks, babe." Buck says to Tommy with a grin and a kiss to the cheek, before turning back to his conversation with Ravi, now embellishing and emphasizing with his fork. Tommy has to dodge the occasional bit of food when Buck gets too excited in the middle of taking a bite and waves the fork around before it gets to his mouth.

He's a warm, steady presence at Buck's side, interjecting when there's an opportunity but largely letting Buck steer the conversation. Buck is so overjoyed that he gets to have this, Tommy at his side, his family all around him. It's different than it was last year in a lot of ways, but for the first time in a long time he's truly content.

Ravi's drink runs out and Tommy offers to get him a new one, because he also needed a drink and 'do you need anything, Evan?'. Buck does, and he watches as Tommy makes his way across the yard to the coolers, chatting briefly when he's stopped, but he doesn't take too long, pointing over at Buck and Ravi with an apologetic expression on his face. He comes back with bottle of water for himself and beers for Buck and Ravi, opening them before handing them out like the gentleman that he is. Buck gives him a kiss in thanks.

"Thanks man, but I'm not going to kiss you. You're not my type and also I like my ankles the way they are." Ravi says, and Tommy chuckles, laughing even harder when he sees the pout on Buck's face. He kisses the pout away and Buck decides to forgive him, he did bring him food and a beer, after all. Ravi tells them that they're gross, and then asks Tommy to clarify something that Buck had said while he was gone, because he didn't believe that Buck was telling the truth, which, rude!

Tommy obliges, crowding into Buck's side again, but rests his hand at the small of his back instead of his hip. He rubs his thumb up and down while he tells Ravi a story from when he first started at Harbor.

Buck finds that this beer is making him pleasantly buzzed, and he finds himself leaning towards Tommy, just wanting to be close to him. Tommy takes his weight without a word, easily carrying the conversation with Ravi, and runs his fingers up and down his back, right on top of his spine. Buck finds himself going even more boneless and sighs to himself, happy to be here with his family and the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

[ruinix]

can you do one where reader goes to one of his games and shows up on the big screen then it switches to quinn and him smiling looking up 🙇‍♀️ i fear this would kill me

( i love all ur writes they fuel me throughout the day esp w the cannuck season over )

Hello, lovely. This is such a cute prompt for a lil fluffy thought.🥺Thank you for reading, lovely, sweetie. I am sending you lots of forehead kisses, mwamwa. Apologies for only getting to your ask. Hope you're still there! (Game photo from Pinterest.)

18+. Fluff thoughts. No warnings except it might not be realistic. (Optional) Bonus content on your POV included!⬇️⬇️⬇️

Quinn would always want you to attend his games. He knew you would sometimes prefer sitting with the crowd, sometimes the family box. Depending on your decision, he would try to get you the seats you wanted, always eager to ask whether you would be going or not, especially for home games. Except tonight, you told him that you had plans.

He was dejected. Of course, he was. He only wanted you to see the brief intermission featuring Fin—you've always loved Fin—and perhaps even get the chance to interact with Fin when the mascot roamed the crowd during the game. He would even make that happen, perhaps drop hints to the mascot wearer where you would be, but you would not be attending tonight.

However, instead of telling you that to entice you to cancel your plans, he didn't, fearing you would cancel your plans. He didn't like interfering with your plans no matter how much he craved your very presence in the arena. You were his good luck charm, but that included your presence wherever you were. As long as he had you.

Currently, Quinn was fucking thankful you weren't in the crowd. He was playing like shit. The Canucks were down a goal in a 2-1 game with no change in the score since the first. It was more than halfway through the last period. He tried to make plays but the puck was getting swiped away. It didn't help that he could feel his fatigue, his heart pumping hard, his nearly cramping.

Yet he pushed himself. He knew you would be watching, even by checking the NHL app for the score or play-by-plays. He had to do you right, especially when you gave him actual good luck kisses before he went out. He just—

A whistle was blown for a stoppage. Quinn swerved behind the other team's goal line, taking deep and regulated breaths, taking full control of himself, skating towards the bench when the coach called for timeout. He sighed, taking sips of water, listening to the strategy while he rested himself.

At that point, he was starting to get overwhelmed. From the countless plays to be done, to the slight cramped spaces next to his teammates. Until he heard the crowd cheer, he dared to look up the jumbotron, seeing Fin holding a messily done sign.

In broad black markers, in fucking glitters, it said, "GO CANUCKS. GO QUINNY, MY LOVE!"

He nearly frowned until he saw you, jumping and cheering despite the frustrating score, wearing the signed home jersey and red-black-yellow outfit. He could read your lips, shouting "Go, Quinn! I love you!" before you spun to show off his number on your back.

Quinn laughed, earning looks from his teammates and the coaching staff, but he didn't fucking care, because you spun again, grabbing your sign from Fin and waved it in full avid fan energy. Nothing could ever bring him down, not even at the sight of his game-exhausted yet grinning face being blasted on the Jumbotron for at least a second before it flipped over to you cheering harder. So this was your plan. Fuck, he loved this. So much.

"Huggy, do you hear me?" The couch called. "You either get back to the bench or—"

"I'm rested. I'll play," he said just as the whistle was blown, signaling the end of their timeout. He nodded at his teammates on the ice. Feeling renewed, feeling the burn of your kisses earlier, wishing that you were still on the jumbotron, he adjusted his helmet one last time. "Let's do this."

˚｡⋆ ❀ ˖ Bonus: Your POV ˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚

They won. The Canucks actually won 4-2 with Quinn having the game-winning goal. Three goals on the last 5 minutes.

With glitter under your nails, on your jersey that you purchased in arena store, on your seat, on the floor, you screamed with the crowd, waving your crumpled sign. Even more when Quinn got the first star.

You were shaking all over the place from the adrenaline, zooming onto Quinn when he went back on the ice to give out his Canucks hockey stick. You felt so proud of him. He played so amazingly, so breathtaking, especially after their timeout.

Your heart did backflips when you noticed him turning to your general direction before he skated away for an interview. Then there he was again on the jumbotron, his voice raspy, his hand running through his hair to keep it away from his face yet a few wet strands fell on his temples. It should be a crime to be that handsome, no?

After Quinn disappeared, everything felt like a blur. You walked with the crowd, determined to go to a specific place in Rogers arena to wait for him.

Your phone pinged with a message, "Don't leave. Wait on our spot."

Our spot, he said. You let out a giggle, ignoring the concerned looks you received. You called him and he instantly answered.

"My Love...hi." He sounded like he was breathless.

"It's our spot now, huh, Mr. Game Winner?"

There was a pause on the other line. "What else is it then?" You could hear the smile on his voice, could see the blush blooming on his face. Quinn has always been so simple. Shy but so eager to brag in his own way.

"Our spot," you echoed, giggling so much that you heard him chuckle. "Don't take long."

"See you in fifteen."

"Make sure to shower!" You whisper-yelled.

That made him laugh. The loud and cute laugh of his. The exact laugh you wish you had heard when he was on the ice after your quick five-second-jumbotron fame. You felt so soft all over, like you were swimming on the clouds with Quinn's laugh on repeat in your had.

"Longer then? Thirty?"

"Thirty. I'll wait for you, Quinny. I love you."

"I love you more."

You both spent a whole minute just listening to each other's silence before you ended the call with a soft kissing noise which made him laugh again, leaving you so happy like you won the world when it was Quinn who won the game.

I tried my best. This was written with me who doesn't attend hockey games face-to-face (or any sports) as an avid TV watcher (i fear the crowds).

-> more thoughts? List.

[yurizq]

ෆ You had a point to prove.

Geto Suguru had been teasing you all day — smug little glances, fingers trailing down your back during dinner, subtle looks that promised far more than his polite words ever said aloud.

“You always act like you’re in charge,” you’d muttered earlier, arms crossed, daring him. “Bet you wouldn’t last if I got on top for once.”

He hadn’t even blinked. Just raised one perfectly smug brow. “Then ride me.”

That was two hours ago.

Now, your thighs were burning, straddling his lap, his cock stretching you open slow and deep. You had wanted control — had begged for it, practically climbed into his lap talking shit — but now?

You were shaking.

Geto looked up at you like he was watching a show. His arms were behind his head, relaxed, leaning back against the headboard like you weren’t absolutely wrecked above him.

“Getting tired already?” he asked, soft and smug.

You wanted to slap the smirk off his face. Or maybe kiss it. Either way, you glared. “I’m… not done.”

You tried again — rising up, hips trembling, sliding back down with a quiet whimper. His cock filled you too deep, too thick, every drag of it sending shocks through your spine.

His hands twitched like he was restraining himself.

You rocked your hips slowly, trying to grind the way you’d practiced in the mirror once. It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t even coordinated. You were losing rhythm, your arms barely keeping you upright against his chest.

Geto tilted his head slightly. “Not quite what you imagined?”

“Shut up.”

He chuckled — soft, condescending. “You really thought you’d be the one in charge tonight?”

You collapsed forward, forehead on his shoulder, breathing hard. “I can do it—”

“No,” he said gently, voice dropping low. “You can’t.”

Before you could argue, his hands were gripping your hips — and suddenly he was thrusting up into you, hard, forcing your body down to meet every thrust.

You screamed.

“Suguru—!” you gasped, nails digging into his arms. “F-Fuck—”

“Oh? Now you remember my name?” he hissed against your ear, snapping his hips harder, rough and precise. “What happened to all that attitude?”

Your legs trembled uncontrollably.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?” he growled, fucking into you like he had something to prove. “Didn’t even last five minutes. Pathetic.”

You whined, sobbing into his skin. Every thrust sent you higher, every drag of his cock brushing that sensitive spot you could never quite reach on your own.

He knew your body too well.

“Was this what you wanted, baby?” he rasped. “Wanted to ride me, huh? Thought you could handle it?”

You nodded weakly, tears in your eyes. You were close, embarrassingly fast — again.

“I c-can’t—”

“You can,” he said sharply. “You’re gonna cum on my cock like a good little girl, and then I’m going to fuck you again until you remember your place.”

You came with a choked cry, back arching, walls clenching so tight he groaned into your hair, thrusts stuttering.

“Fuck—look at that—” he growled, watching you fall apart in his lap, “you’re soaking me.”

You collapsed forward, boneless, twitching.

And he didn’t stop.

“Uh-uh,” he said lowly, flipping you onto your back with ease. “You wanted to be in control, didn’t you? Let’s see how much more this bratty little cunt can take.”

He thrust into you again — hard, fast, unrelenting.

You sobbed, overwhelmed.

Your body was wrecked, sticky and slick from your release, still stretched around his cock as he pounded into you. His hand wrapped around your throat lightly, not choking — just enough pressure to remind you who was really in charge.

“You wanted to ride me?” he whispered, leaning close, forehead touching yours. “Next time, ask nicely.”

You cried his name again — desperate, ruined — and when he finally came, it was deep, hot, buried to the hilt, groaning into your mouth as he filled you up.

You lay there for a long time after, chest heaving, clinging to his shoulders.

Suguru’s hand stroked your side gently, the dominance melted away now, his voice calm again.

“You’re cute when you try to be tough,” he murmured. “But next time… just let me take care of you.”

You pouted into his neck. “Shut up.”

He chuckled, kissing your hair.

“You started it.”

[lluc1ll3]

nettles | joel miller

summary: your last ride home with joel in his truck on a hot summer evening.

wc: 1.1k

tags: Angst, Breakup, Joel cannot express emotion, Smoking, Coquette reader, Ethel Cain inspired, Implied age gap, Hints of toxicity, Joel is sad and insecure

note: listened to the new ethel song and this was born. stream nettles by ethel cain!!!

-

To love Joel is to suffer him.

And God, you loved Joel. Everything about him, even the worst parts. His temper. His unwillingness to express his feelings. His troubled past.

You thought at first that it was how much you loved Joel that was making your heart hurt.

It wasn’t that.

It was just Joel.

You loved him, and you suffered for it.

“This ain’t workin’.”

Joel sat in the driver’s seat of his truck. One hand ran over his unshaved face. His eyes did not meet yours as he said it.

You stared over at him. You had been expecting this. He had been distant - more than usual. Quiet, and not in the characteristic Joel way. In a way that stamped a furrow into his brow and a clear conflict into his eyes.

You finally tore your eyes away from Joel, smoothing out the white sundress you were wearing. The one he bought for you.

“What isn’t?” you asked.

His jaw twitched. “This. Us. Whatever this is.”

You reached towards the pack of Marlboros you had stashed in his glovebox a few weeks ago, bringing a cigarette to your lips.

Joel still had your lighter in his pocket.

“I don’t know what this is, Joel. You tell me.”

Joel reached into the pocket of his washed out blue jeans, pulling out your silver lighter. You leaned forward, allowing Joel to flick on the lighter, the small flame dancing between you both.

As he lit your cigarette for you, he finally met your eyes.

When he did. you had never seen brown eyes look so blue.

You took a drag, exhaling a puff of smoke. Joel wound down your window.

You held out the cigarette between your fingers, offering it to Joel. A bit of your red lipstick was smeared on the cigarette. Joel took it regardless.

“You know I like bein’ with you. You know I think you’re beautiful.”

He handed your cigarette back to you. His fingers brushed yours. His hand was colder than you’d ever felt it.

“But this ain’t right.”

“What’s not right about this, Joel?” you demanded. “What’s not right about how we make each other feel?”

“It ain’t about how we make each other feel.”

Joel busied himself putting the car in drive, reversing out of his parking space in an old ‘50s style diner he had taken you to for the evening.

“Then what is it about?”

His knuckles were white against the steering wheel. He ran his tongue against his bottom lip. He could feel you staring at him, your eyes burning a hole into the side of his face.

He had always told you he loved your eyes.

The light was already leaving them.

“Is it about me?”

Joel clutched the steering wheel even harder at that. His jaw flexed. “That’s the last thing it’s about.”

“Then what, Joel?” You hated how your voice shook when you said it.

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “It’s me.”

Your heart cracked a little. “What about you? I love you, Joel. You make me feel like there’s fireworks inside my heart. You make me feel warm, even when it rains.”

“You don’t love me,” Joel insisted. “There ain’t no lovin’ someone like me.”

The crack in your heart split a little more.

All you did was love him.

It filled your heart from the moment you woke up to the moment you slept. It was what you dreamt of every night. Your heart was stained by the oil and the sweat on his hands after he came home from work. Your skin was marked and scented like him.

It was all for him.

And here he sat, with you in the passenger seat of his truck, where you had sat and laughed with him, held his hand, countless times. Telling you that he was unloveable.

That he would not let you love him anymore.

You brushed away tears impatiently, putting your cowgirl boot clad feet up on his dashboard. You held your cigarette between your fingers, hand dangling out of the open window.

If you closed your eyes, you could pretend this was just another summer night with Joel Miller.

His words ripped you from your imagination. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for breaking up with me or sorry for telling me how I feel?”

“I ain’t tryin’ to tell you how to feel.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you laughed bitterly, taking another drag of your cigarette. “I told you I love you and you said I don’t. You don’t speak for me, Joel. And you might not wanna fight for this, but I do, okay? Because I know how I feel. And you don’t get to take it out on me because you don’t.”

Joel finally turned his head to look at you. “You want me to say it?” he asked. His voice cracked. His eyes were filled with tears. “I love you. I just wanna keep you safe. Keep you happy. But I can’t. I can’t make you happy.”

“You do make me happy, Joel.”

“I don’t. You think I do, but I don’t. I make you hurt. I see it in your eyes, darlin’. And I can’t be the one that hurts you no more.”

The third crack in your heart was what tore it apart.

You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. His beautiful, chocolate eyes clouded by tears as they gazed between you and the road.

You turned to look out at the Texas scenery rushing past you as Joel’s truck rumbled along the highway. The gothic western farms, fences and power lines that you had driven past so many times looked different now. Colourless.

You did not allow Joel to see your tears, but he knew anyway. He could tell by the way your shoulders tensed, and your hands unclenched and clenched into fists in your lap after you discarded your fizzled out cigarette.

Joel dared to reach a hand over towards your lap. Slowly, very slowly, his fingers skated across the back of your hand, to then intertwine with your own.

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull your hand away.

You let him hold your hand all the way home.

After what felt like years of the stifling Texas heat in the passenger seat of Joel’s truck, it ground to a halt outside your house. Even your street looked considerably less inviting now.

Now Joel had torn your heart in two and taken one half as a keepsake.

You shot out of the truck as though the seat had bitten you. Joel did not say a word. He did not even look at you.

“Fuck you, Joel.”

The words stung in your throat like nettles.

-

[starkwlkr]

Heyyy, this is my first time requesting anything anywhere so not sure how this works xD But for the marvel series could I get the 21 with Fernando Alonso? Maybe something along the lines of childhood friends to strangers to lovers, or maybe they hooked up once when he became world champion but didn't have much contact afterwards until now? I'd prefer no big age gap but I don't really mind that much either. Thanks <3

an: anon you are breaking my heart!! this is the last request in my marvel series :( thanks to everyone that requested!! this was definitely fun! their age gap isn’t specific for this one!

jen’s marvel series

“It was real to me”

You never expected to see him again.

Not here. Not in the small town where you both grew up, where time stood still while the rest of the world rushed past. But there he is—Fernando Alonso, two-time world champion, standing in his mother’s backyard, holding a glass of wine and looking at you like you were never gone.

Like he still remembers.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” he says with a small smile.

You shrug, arms crossed over your chest to fight the chill. “Didn’t think you’d remember I exist.”

He laughs softly. “Hard to forget someone who used to steal your bike and beat you at karting.”

You grin despite yourself. “You let me win.”

He gives you a look. “I let no one win.”

You both fall quiet, the only sound the wind rustling through the trees and the occasional laughter from inside the house. It’s some family party. His mother invited you—insisted, really. Said it would be “like old times.” You didn’t have the heart to tell her there hadn’t been “old times” in nearly a decade.

Because after childhood, there was nothing. Not really. He went off to chase speed, and you stayed behind, chasing something else—something slower, maybe steadier. You lost touch. You watched him from TV screens, from magazine covers, from miles and years away.

And you hated how much you missed him.

“Do you ever think about back then?” you ask finally, not looking at him.

“All the time,” Fernando says. “Mostly when I come home.”

You glance at him, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice.

He steps a little closer. “That summer before I left. . . you remember that night? In your parents’ shed? When we—”

“Kissed,” you finish, voice small.

He nods. “Yeah.”

You try to smile. “We were kids.”

“Teenagers,” he says softly. “Thought I was being noble, not dragging you into what my life was about to become.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So instead, you disappeared.”

He sighs. “I thought it was the right thing.”

“And now?” you ask.

Fernando hesitates. Then he meets your gaze, voice low. “Now I know it was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

Your throat tightens.

He steps closer. “You looked at me like I was more than some kid who wanted to race cars. Like I was . . . already someone.”

“You were,” you say quietly.

There’s a beat. Then another.

“I don’t know what that night meant to you,” you add. “But I spent a long time wondering if I made it all up. If it was just some teenage moment to you.”

His voice breaks a little when he says, “It was real to me.”

You exhale, the weight of it hitting harder than you expected.

“You left,” you whisper. “And I thought I was the only one who remembered.”

Fernando shakes his head slowly. “You were the first thing I missed.”

You stare at each other, ten years of distance burning between your bodies like heat. And then—without permission or preamble—he closes the gap and kisses you.

This time, you kiss him back.

This time, no one leaves.

[scarrlet-xiv]

miracle aligner 

nsfw

a/n: i posted this a few years back from my old account. just reposting all my old writings

gojo satoru x reader

to say that you were blessed by the universe is an understatement. especially when you find yourself being unconditionally loved by satoru. even before he asked you to be his fiancee, never once had he failed to make you feel that he was still asking for your attention. every date was planned to perfection because you know how satoru hates when shit doesn’t go the way as planned, especially not when his future wife is the one he’s trying to impress.

don’t get it wrong though, he already knows that nothing he’d do would dissappoint you. hell, he could even take you to mcdonald’s for your anniversary dinner and your eyes would still light up as if he gave you the whole world. and for some reason, it’s those simple things that reel him into you.

reel him in that whatever you ask of him, he’d bend over backwards just to give it to you.

so at night, as the both of you lie in bed, sweaty and filled with want, satoru shows you just how much he loves you in more ways than one.

with his tongue and on his knees, he shows you just how willing he is to look so vulnerable beneath you as you tell him every plea while he answers it with a hot swirl of his tongue on your clit. 

you cry out his name like a prayer to thank the gods for the man who’s completely ravaging your pussy. and as if it was possible, you arch your back even more, trying to kick satoru’s shoulder to get away from his tongue, because cumming for the fourth time that night seems like an impossible mission he wants to pursue.

he pulls you closer into his mouth and pins your hips harder against the edge of the bed. satoru was not letting you go until you cream on his face one last time. 

every time he eats you out was like a declaration of love from him. satoru feverishly uses his tongue to trace every letter of his vow to love you on your sloppy cunt to make sure you know just how he was born to blow your mind.

he’s even so humble about it, not denying every orgasm that builds up using his mouth when he’s buried between your thighs and fingers pumping in and out of your pussy.

because if he couldn’t give you the whole world or even the moon shining above you, he’d sure as hell make you see the stars that aligned both of your souls together.

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Tag Game: Scenes I will never forget

Rules: Share 5-10 scenes you can't forget. Not your favourites, the ones that got stuck in your brain for any reason.

Tagged by @dramalove247 here thank you!💜

So when I saw this game, my mind immediately went to pain. Maybe because of the post that originated the game or maybe because it's easier to remember the pain lol (laughing to mask the pain). But then I started to think about shows and scenes and so many scenes live in my brain and not just because they hurt, but also because I felt such joy, or a scene that made me relate in a good way, or made me laugh non stop. So, with that in mind, here goes my list of scenes that I will never forget, no matter how many more shows I watch. I'm gonna keep it QL to make it easier on me but I also started to think about scenes from other asian media, so if anyone wants to tag me again, feel free. But also, don't feel obligated. You know what I mean. Let's go.

Kinou Nani Tabeta

I still get teary eyed just looking at the gifs. Chicken thighs as love. Shiro had me crying throughout most of season 2, but this moment absolutely wrecked me. There's something about Shiro's understated but deep way of loving Kenji that hits harder than any tragic scene ever could.

Love in the Big City

What can I even say about this scene. It destroyed me twice. First when I read it and then actually seeing it. I related too heavily to Young in this scene for reason I wrote about before, so I'll stop there before I start crying and don't stop.

Love for Love's Sake

This show had plenty of scenes that completely wrecked me, so I could've picked several. But this one was a gut punch that absolutely shattered my heart. It was just so overwhelming. And it felt like looking in a mirror.

She Loves to Cook, and She Loves to Eat

Not gonna go into it right now. Everything you need to know about how I feel about this scene and others like these can be found here. It healed something in me to watch it.

At 25:00 in Akasaka

"To get into character." I could hear his heart break into a million pieces. I still get goosebumps just thinking about it. Such an incredible scene and an amazing job by Komagine Kiita.

Life~Love on the Line

This is one of those where you had to be there. Cause I'm not gonna spoil anything. I live here, on this beach. Damn you Akira!

Time of Fever

THE HEATER BETWEEN THEM!!! (*waves at @colourme-feral*) This scene has taken permanent residence in my brain. These two had me in a choke hold for way too long, and this scene was just perfect in every way.

The Untamed

Scene of all time. Suffice it to say that I sometimes go back just to watch this scene. Or to read that chapter in the book. That's the effect this scene has on me. I love Wen Ning so much. The actors were great here. Jiang Cheng just makes me hate him and want to hug him, all at the same time. And seeing Lan Zhan putting the pieces together just ends me. Oh it's so good.

Light On Me

"During the time I couldn't see anything, and I was unaware, Noh Shin-Woo thought about me. He talked to me. The messages that remained unread and his feelings that weren't relayed, came pouring out to me, all at once." AAAAAAAHHHHHH. Confession of all time. That's all.

And last but certainly not least, truly an unforgettable bl moment....

Every You, Every Me

This scene had me laughing so hard. For that whole afternoon after I watched this episode, this scene kept coming back to me and I could not stop laughing. Carrots will never be the same.

And we come full circle, starting with chicken thighs and ending with carrots, proving once again, that food is ultimately the most memorable thing to me. This was hard because I wanted to include so many others that I love and think about and can't forget, but today these were it.

Tagging but as usual no pressure: @thisonelikesaliens @colourme-feral @abstractelysium @troubled-mind @italianpersonwithashippersheart @nabi-unveiled @yannig @theside-b @watchthisqqq @watchingblsnowandforever @littleragondin @he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle and if you see this and want to play consider yourself tagged here ➡️@ 💜