#and yes he is exactly as soft as he looks

[kamitv]

Husband!Sukuna who isn’t sensitive, he swears. But when it’s you? He’s still not sensitive. Just… alert, if you will. Tense even. But not sensitive. Affection starved? Perhaps, but he won’t ever say that to you.

Husband!Sukuna doesn’t even realize how much his body longs for your touch. In the beginning of your relationship with him, he used to curse you out for touching him too often but now? Ever so softly would Sukuna relax after a touch from you.

His favorite touches from you come from when you’re half-asleep.

Early in the morning, practically at the crack of dawn, you’d wake up and turn to your grumpy husband. He’s never truly asleep but he often pretends to be, something you’d picked up on a long time ago.

Even so, he’d feel you move around in the bed but what always gets him is you tossing your leg over him and laying half of your body on top of his, your head using his naked chest as a pillow.

Husband!Sukuna swears he hates when you do that—or that’s what he tells you anyway. Then comes your hand, snaking up his chest, feeling every cut and crease of his abs until you reach his neck.

Then your finger is outlining his jawline. That drives him mad, such a soft and faint touch that makes him swallow thickly as he body struggles not to react to you.

He’s not sensitive. But he is tense.

Following those gentle touches is something you'd never dare to do when you're not in your sleep-induced state. You sit up and comfort yourself right on his lap, thighs spread over your husband, who's currently pretending to be asleep.

Though, his false state of rest falters when you get on top of him, your hands pressed so lightly on his chest and your panty-clad cunt resting right over his rising cock. He really was a simple male at heart, despite not showing it or expressing it much, if ever at all.

Eyes cracking open and settling on you, the woman in which he's decided to claim as his wife, your Husband!Sukuna releases a long sigh and his hands begin to move, finding their rightful place on your thighs.

Your skin is so fucking soft in comparison to his own, rough fingers caressing your thighs as Sukuna swears he's dreaming because just who exactly has given you permission to mount him in such a sexual manner?

"Woman," Sukuna grunts out, "Get off me."

A smile, one that he enjoys seeing deep deep deep down inside, graces your tired features and it makes his body freeze up a little, "Husband," You call out mockingly, "Has anyone ever told you how handsome you look while you're sleeping?"

"No." He answers boringly.

You chuckle and it makes his ears twitch, "Are you aware that even in your sleep your brows tense up?" You murmur to the man as you take one finger and bring it up to his brows, poking the space in between them, "Hm?"

His grouchy facial expression doesn't change, "I am now," He replies, voice raspy and making you squirm slightly in his lap, "Are you aware that after being fucked for five hours straight you wake up the next morning annoying me more than normal?"

Your head tilts as you flash him those loving eyes of yours with a grin far too cheerful for these early mornings, "I'm annoying you?"

"Yes." He deadpans.

"Aw," You weigh forward over your husband and plant a sweet kiss right onto the skin of his tatted forehead, "Love you too 'Kuna."

There's this weird chill that shudders throughout his body as your lips press against his skin and he frowns before muttering, "Get off of me."

Your grin widens and you plant a few more pecks of affection all over his aggravated expression, "Mmmmmh, no."

"Insufferable you are, truly." Sukuna sighs and his big hands travel upward along the softness of your thighs, soothing over your legs back and forth in a way that's almost tender.

Your lips meet his jaw and you lick him, to which he kisses his teeth. "You said the same thing during our wedding night I believe," You remind him.

A thick brow of his arches, "And?"

"I think being mean is your love language." You lean back up and stare down at the full glory of your husband.

Ruby red eyes all low up on you, almost as if you were the only thing worth gazing upon, "Mh." He hums.

The look on your face changes a bit as the sun peeking into your bedroom filters around your sleeping space and casts a warm glow against your grumpy husband's features. You run your hands down his tattooed chest again and whisper his name beneath your breath, "Sukuna..."

He glares at you, like always, and his tone is beyond flat, "Woman."

And suddenly you're smiling, "Ryomen."

"Don't," He huffs before rolling his eyes elsewhere. You only ever call him that when you're about to say-

"I love you."

It's quiet for a long awkward moment, as always whenever you utter those three words to him. Husband!Sukuna can't stand it when you say that. It's such a ridiculous thing for humans to say.

So, instead of saying it back, he just grumbles an (attempted) affectionate, "I tolerate you too."

As always, you're left baffled by the difficulty he finds in saying he loves you too, "I-"

"Now get off me, I won't tell you again." Your husband scoffs with this cute, yet still grumpy, scrunch of his nose.

Just staring down at him makes you want to devour him whole. How can this big softy possibly be the king of curses who many fear to much.

Hell, you don't even hesitate to reply to his order with one of your own, "Make me."

Who would expect anything less from the wife of Sukuna Ryomen, of course you don't follow his every command like everyone else, he married you for that reason exactly. "Testing my patience early today, huh?" Sukuna asks, giving you little to no time to reply before he's moving.

Now, sometimes you forget the sheer size difference between you and your husband. Which is completely okay, he's sure to remind you of it within a few seconds as he flips you over onto your back and pins you down onto the bed below.

Pink hair all ruffled, expression as pouty and irritated as always, like some kinda' big cat, and beefy arms pinning you with a force that's so notably gentle you can't help the smile that sparks across your face.

Giggling too, "Hi Ryo'."

He grits his teeth at the sound of that nickname but the corner of his lips twitch, "....Hi wife." Sukuna say begrudgingly. Then... Then comes your full smile. "Don't make that face, you look foolish."

"I'm smiling?" You snort as your brows meet.

He scoffs, "Foolish."

Your hands rise up to his face to cup in your palms, to which he instantly leans into your touch. "It's okay to soften up every now and then, y'know."

His gaze does exactly that and he presses his cheek further against the warmth of your hands, "This is me softening up."

"You do so very poorly," You tell him honestly.

And to your surprise, Sukuna blinks. "Teach me, then."

"Hm?"

He leans down, past your touch, and whispers against your lips, "Teach me to be soft." He says lovingly before kissing you.

You merely melt into the connection of his lips to yours. Your arms loop around his neck and you hold him close as you pry from him to whisper right back, "It's not hard, just... talk nicer to me."

His eyes narrow skeptically, "Is that truly what you want?"

"I wouldn't mind it, yes." You taunt with a little shrug.

With a heavy sigh, Sukuna repositions his large body in between your legs, "Just for now then."

You look down and scoff lightly, "Hm?"

"I'll be 'soft" while you rid me of this," He continues, pressing the large curve of his hardened cock right against your flimsy panties.

Your eyebrows shoot up and your lashes bat at his words, "Oh, so you're gonna talk me through it for once?"

Sukuna draws his hips back just a little, only to rock the forwards against your warm clothed cunt seconds latter, chuckling cockily, "Don't I always?"

Your lips pull into a thin line, as best as you can, while you glare up at him, "No, you curse me through it."

"You enjoy it," He says with a shrug., working up that delicious friction between his body and yours.

Your gaze wonders elsewhere for a mere moment as you allow your legs to then wrap around his waist and encourage his grind against you. Then, with parted lips and a shaky sigh, "Yes, but it'd be nice for you to talk nicer to me sometimes."

"Mhm," Sukuna nods genuinely. Surely, whatever his wife desires of him... he'll be sure to put forth his best effort in satisfying said desire, "I will try. Now, let's get all this off of you..."

[loafysainz]

DONT GO DADDY | LN 4

lando norris!dad x reader!mom

no warn

hope you guys enjoy it!!

Lando had two more days at home before he had to leave for the next race weekend. Two days before he’d have to pack his bags, say goodbye, and be away for who-knows-how-long.

The thing is—his kids didn’t even know that yet.

Noah and Leo, his little shadows, had been extra clingy lately. Usually, Leo was glued to their mom, a total mama’s boy, while Noah was more independent. But this past week? The two of them were stuck to Lando like glue. If he so much as stepped out of the room, one (or both) would come running, calling out for him like he was about to disappear forever.

Like right now.

Lando was just sorting through some stuff in the living room when he suddenly felt two tiny pairs of arms wrap around his legs. He glanced down, finding Noah and Leo latched onto him, looking up with teary eyes.

“What’s up, little dudes?” he teased, ruffling Noah’s curls while patting Leo’s head. “Why are you guys crying, huh?”

Noah sniffled. “Daddy… hug.”

Leo nodded aggressively, arms still wrapped tight around Lando’s leg. “Want hug, Daddy.”

Lando crouched down, opening his arms. “Ohhh, you want me to hug you? Come here then.”

And just like that, his two little monsters launched themselves into his chest, squeezing him like their lives depended on it. Lando chuckled, lifting them both up in his arms.

“What’s gotten into you two, huh? You’ve been extra cuddly this week.”

Noah pouted, gripping Lando’s hoodie. “Don’t go.”

Lando blinked. “Go where?”

Leo’s lips wobbled. “Work.”

Noah, never one to be left out, “Yeah! We miss you when you go!”

Ah. They didn’t know he was leaving in two days, but somehow, they felt it.

And just like that, Lando’s heart completely melted. He sighed, rubbing their backs as they both continued to sniffle into his hoodie.

“Daddy’s right here, baby,” he murmured, rocking them gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But later you go work again.” Noah mumbled, his little fingers fisting Lando’s hoodies like he was scared he’d disappear right then and there.

Lando exhaled, tilting his head back for a second before pressing a kiss to both their foreheads. “You know why Daddy goes to work, right?”

They both shook their heads, big eyes still filled with tears.

“I go so I can make money,” he explained gently. “And you know what money gets us?”

Noah thought about it for a second. “Ice cream?”

Lando chuckled. “Yes, and toys. And our house. And everything we need. If I don’t go, then we don’t get those things.”

Leo sniffled. “But I just want you.”

Lando swore his heart physically hurt. He pulled them both in even tighter. “I know, buddy. And I want to be here too. But I promise, I’ll always come back. And when I do, we’ll have fun as much as you want, okay?”

After a few more minutes of calming them down, their little bodies finally relaxed against him. The house was quiet except for their soft breathing, and Lando realized they had completely passed out on him—Leo using his arm as a pillow, and Noah curled up into his side.

That was exactly how his wife—y/n found them when she walked in.

She paused in the doorway, eyes widening at the rare moment of silence. Usually, their house was a warzone of giggles and chaos, but right now? It was peaceful. Too peaceful.

She tiptoed closer, peeking into the family room, and immediately felt her heart melt. There they were��her three favorite people, all tangled up on the couch, fast asleep.

Lando had one arm draped protectively over both boys, his head resting against the back of the couch. Noah was tucked under his chin, while Leo had somehow managed to shove himself into Lando’s side, one tiny hand gripping his hoodie even in sleep.

She smiled to herself, shaking her head fondly.

Yeah. She was definitely taking a picture of this.

[puppym3]

felix x reader ─── just this once?

synopsis - you and felix, your best friend, are watching anime and cuddling on the couch together; and while there's nothing weird about that, why do you feel so weird when he reacts strangely to you playing with his hair?

wc: 4.5k

silly tags: MDNI! 18+, bsf!felix, afab!reader, maybe pining?, felix is a huge cuddler, other seven members exist but are nowhere to be seen, felix likes having his hair played with (me too), PT 1 (maybe pt 2?)

MDNI!! smut warnings under cut!!

WARNINGS: smut, masturbation (f + m), hair pulling, slight choking (not rough), they masturbate in front of each other, post-nut clarity, cum ingestion, reader likes noisy men!! (YES YOU)

Felix was the one you considered your best friend in the entire world, despite having seven other good friends. You and Felix just clicked. Maybe it was because he'd stay up playing video games with you, or make you late-night desserts even though you both agree you shouldn't be allowed to have snacks after 11 pm. Or maybe it was the fact that you found him the cutest out of the eight, making him the easiest to tease. (The insane cuteness aggression you get)

The apartment was unusually quiet today, the kind of silence that felt rare in a space usually filled with chaotic laughter, competitive yelling from game nights, or the general commotion of eight boys who all somehow coexisted without killing each other. But tonight, it was just you and Felix, sprawled on the couch, tangled in a way you both swore no one else would ever find out about.

Somehow, you were always falling for Felix's lures, agreeing to the "no telling" pact after Felix hit you with those wide, pleading eyes. It was unfair, honestly. A weaponized look that had no business being as effective as it was.

“Just this once,” you had muttered at the time, already knowing you were lying. It was never just once with Felix.

And now, here you were; his head resting on your chest, your fingers weaving lazily through the soft strands of his black hair. His eyes were half-lidded but determinedly focused on the anime playing in front of you, though he was obviously on the verge of dozing off. His long, delicate fingers absentmindedly traced light patterns along your arm, the subtle scratching oddly soothing.

“Don't fall asleep, Lix," you teased quietly, though the warmth of your voice lacked any real scolding. "You're gonna miss the three episodes of filler!”

“M’not,” he mumbled, voice heavy with exhaustion. But the way his body melted further into yours suggested otherwise.

A soft laugh escaped you. “Sure, sure. Just resting your eyes, hm?”

Felix hummed in contentment, clearly too comfortable to argue. "You’re a good... head massager," he admitted with a lazy grin, though it quickly faded into something softer as he shifted his head slightly, nuzzling closer without a care.

You knew this was dangerous territory, the kind of scene the other boys would never let either of you live down. Hyunjin would tease Felix mercilessly for his "puppy syndrome," and Chan would probably lose it at the idea that you of all people caved to cuddling. No, this would definitely remain a secret.

Your fingers slid into his hair, your nails gently scratching his scalp as Felix let out a soft, pleased hum. It was barely a sound, but the scratch of his voice sent a strange flutter through your chest, one you couldn’t quite place. He shifted slightly against you, his body curling closer as if he were trying to burrow into your warmth.

"That feels so good," he murmured, his voice low and sleepy. Another noise escaped him; a quiet, deep sound of contentment that shouldn’t have meant anything but, for some reason, made the air feel a little heavier. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse picked up. It was just Felix. Your best friend. Nothing weird about this.

But as his quiet little noises continued, your hands faltered. The sound; it wasn’t wrong, exactly, but it felt… intimate in a way you weren’t used to, like you were overhearing something private. You hesitated, your fingers slowing to a stop as you tried to collect yourself.

Felix stirred, a small whine escaping him as he looked up at you through heavy-lidded eyes. “Why’d you stop?” he mumbled, the tiniest pout forming on his lips. “It was nice.”

You laughed nervously, your hand hovering above his head. “I don’t know. Just… thought you were about to fall asleep.”

“I wasn’t.” He yawned, completely ruining his point, before nudging his head against your chest again. “Please? Just a little more?” His voice was so soft, so innocent, that you felt ridiculous for overthinking it.

Still, when you started again, something about it felt different. His little hums of satisfaction grew deeper, quieter, like they were traveling straight to your core and wrapping themselves around your nerves. It heightened your awareness of everything; the warmth of his body against yours, the weight of his head on your chest, the way his hand idly traced your arm.

You swallowed hard and quickly adjusted, opting to rake your fingers through his hair instead. It felt safer somehow, less intimate than the slow, deliberate scratches. Felix didn’t seem to mind, his eyes fluttering shut again as he relaxed fully against you.

“Better?” you asked softly, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

“Mhm,” he murmured, his lips tugging into a small, sleepy smile. “You’re the best.”

Your stomach flipped, and you had to bite back a groan. This was Felix. Just Felix. So why did you like these sounds so much? Why did you want so badly to tug on his hair to see what sound he'd make? You couldn't boil this down to just 'cuteness aggression', it sounded way too perverted in your head to be left at that.

You could only blame your curiosity, the sudden urge to explore what other sounds you could get out of him. Would he whine if you pulled his hair a bit harder? Would he moan if you lightly dragged your nails across the sensitive spot on his head? The thoughts raced through your mind, a whirlwind of possibilities that shouldn’t have been so exciting, yet they were.

You clenched your jaw, willing the thoughts away as shame crawled up your neck. Your hands stilled in his hair, fingers frozen mid-motion. You needed to stop before your imagination ran even wilder.

Felix's body tensed against yours, his head shifting slightly as he let out a pitiful whine. “Nooo,” he protested softly, his voice coated in drowsy frustration. His sleepy eyes blinked open, glassy and pleading. “Don’t stop,” he begged, barely above a whisper. “Please? Feels nice...”

That voice, low and soft, made your already frayed nerves snap. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, the way your breath caught at how needy he sounded. But it only got worse when he used those eyes again, wide and shimmering with earnest desperation, pulling at you in ways that felt dangerous.

You should have ignored him. You should have laughed it off and told him to watch the show. But you didn’t. Instead, your fingers clenched reflexively, twisting gently into his hair without thinking.

Felix gasped softly, his body jerking slightly at the sudden tug. A quiet, breathy sound slipped from his lips, half a moan, half a whimper; and it undid you. Your pulse raced, heat flaring in your chest and spreading like wildfire as you struggled to keep your composure.

Felix’s eyes widened, the sleepy haze lifting just enough for curiosity to spark in their depths. His lips parted slightly as if processing the situation in slow motion, the sharp tug, your face burning up, the way your breathing had quickened ever so subtly.

A sudden realization flickered across his expression, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The anime played in the background, completely forgotten now.

"Did- did you like that??"

Fuck.

He caught on.

You didn't know what to say, your mouth opening and closing several times.

"You...you did," he whispered, more a statement than a question, his voice thick with disbelief.

"Lix-" you started, not sure where to go.

"Do it again," he urged, his eyes settling on your face, his soft hands reaching up to rest on your shoulders .

"Again??" You squeaked, feeling embarrassed at how turned on you were getting.

"Please, just..." he bit his lip, and oh god, that wasn't helping at all. "...please."

Felix was your best friend, but you like the sounds of his voice and his little moans a little too much to risk it.

The embarrassment burned under your skin, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell him no. Slowly, cautiously, you curled your fingers into his hair, the same way you'd done earlier. Only this time, you tugged harder, letting the strands slide between your fingers.

Felix's breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping him as his head tilted back, his eyes slipping shut. "Oh..." he whispered, his voice breathy and strained. He bit his lip again, the sight nearly undoing you.

"Lix," you said, the word coming out hoarse. "I-"

"Don't stop," he breathed, his hands gripping your shoulders a little tighter. "Just- just one more time."

Your fingers tightened into his hair, tugging a little harder this time. Felix's mouth fell open, a moan slipping free as his eyes fluttered opened, dark and unfocused. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, his cheeks burning red. He was looking at you with such raw, shameless desire that you didn't know how to handle it. You were pretty sure you were shaking.

You could feel the now drenched fabric of your panties clinging to you, your entire body thrumming with need. Felix's body was warm and solid, his grip on you desperate as your leg experimentally lifted. You could feel his length pressing into your leg, his need becoming clear.

Felix’s body went rigid as he suddenly snapped out of his tired, needy trance, his flushed face contorting with embarrassment. He sucked in a sharp breath, his wide eyes flickering downward before realization hit him like a truck.

“Oh—uh, sorry—” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he scrambled to pull away from you. His movements were jerky, frantic, as though physical distance could erase the undeniable evidence of his body's reaction. He stood up too quickly, nearly tripping over his own feet.

You blinked, still caught in the haze of heated confusion. “Wait-” you pleaded instinctively, reaching out to catch his wrist before he could escape.

“I can’t,” he muttered, shaking his head as though trying to clear it. His face was bright red, the tips of his ears burning. “I—I shouldn’t—I mean—this is just—”

“Felix,” you interrupted softly, your voice steadier than you felt. Your grip on his wrist tightened just enough to keep him from bolting. “Don’t… don’t go.”

“I—” He bit his lower lip, clearly at war with himself, torn between wanting to vanish into thin air and staying despite the mortifying situation. His breathing was shallow, uneven, and you could tell how desperately he was trying to regain control.

You swallowed hard, heart pounding so violently it was a wonder he couldn’t hear it. Heat crawled up your neck as words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them. “You don’t have to go,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. “I mean… if you want to stay.”

Felix blinked at you, bewildered. “Stay?” he repeated dumbly, his voice cracking again.

“I—” You faltered, embarrassment knotting your stomach. The logical part of your brain screamed at you to shut up, to take the out he was clearly offering, but something raw and primal clawed its way to the surface instead. “You can… um...” You hesitated, heat flooding your face. “If it helps—if you need to—you can... do it here. In front of me.”

The moment the words left your mouth, your heart stopped. The weight of what you'd just said hung heavy in the room, your own embarrassment threatening to swallow you whole. You couldn’t even look at him.

“What?” Felix’s voice cracked, his eyes going impossibly wide. “Wait—are you saying—do you want me to—”

“I don’t know...” you blurted out, mortified beyond belief but too far gone to stop now. “I just—” You exhaled shakily, words fumbling over themselves in your mouth. “I liked hearing you, I shouldn’t have, but I did, and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Felix’s breath hitched audibly. He stared at you, his expression shifting between disbelief, awe, and something far more intense than either of you had expected to find in this situation.

“You liked it,” he repeated softly, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

“I can’t help it,” you admitted, your voice barely steady. “I’m sorry, it’s just—I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

There was a long, heavy pause. Felix’s gaze flickered between your face and the hand still wrapped around his wrist. His lips parted, words catching in his throat before he finally spoke again.

“Just this once?” he asked quietly, like he was reassuring himself as much as you.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. “Yeah,” you murmured, barely managing to get the word out. “Just this once.”

Felix’s body trembled slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Slowly, cautiously, he sat back down beside you, his breath uneven as if he were standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure whether to jump or not.

But he leaned back, looking forward as if he was trying to pretend you weren't staring holes into him. Then his hands moved, closing his eyes as his hand slowly went to his bulge, his breath hitching. You could hear the sound of the fabric shifting and his hips slowly rolled.

The sounds were enough to have you weak, your face feeling like it's on fire, the way he moaned and breathed out made you even more excited. He was enjoying it, enjoying the feeling of the fabric rubbing against him.

It was as if your knees felt a magnetic force, you were drawn to the way his hips rolled and the sounds. It was a good thing he had his eyes closed or he would have seen the way you fell off of the couch onto the floor, the way you crawled over to him was embarrassing, but the urge was too strong.

You settled on your knees between his legs, the new position giving you a much better view of the show. His fingers curled into the couch cushion, his body tense and shuddering. You could hear his ragged breaths, the subtle groans as his hips rocked against his hand.

You wanted more. You wanted to hear more. You wanted to see more. The realization washed over you, your pulse throbbing in your ears. Without thinking, you reached forward, resting a hand on his knee.

Felix froze, his eyes snapping open, his face flushed. His gaze drifted to the hand on his knee and then up to your face. He blinked a few times, his lips parted in surprise. You felt like a deer caught in headlights. You had no idea why you did that. Your hand trembled against his knee, a mixture of guilt and shame and something else twisting in your gut.

Before you could pull away, his hand moved. His fingers tangled in yours, holding your hand firmly against his knee. He took a deep, shaky breath, his eyes dark and full of something that looked dangerously close to want.

You were paralyzed. Stuck in place, frozen, unable to move.

Felix bit his lip, his gaze unwavering. His free hand went back to his bulge, his fingers curling over the outline of his cock. His hips jerked slightly, a breathy gasp slipping past his lips.

Then, his eyes met yours, and your heart stopped. Something sparked in his gaze, something so intense that you felt yourself tremble.

Without breaking eye contact, he began to roll his hips again, a low groan rumbling in his chest. His hand gripped the base of his shaft, fingers sliding along his length through his pants. You couldn't look away. The sight was overwhelming, almost too much, but you couldn't look away.

His hand left yours and moved up to the hem of his shirt, hiking it up to expose his bare stomach, the muscles flexing with every movement. You swallowed hard, transfixed by the way his abs contracted and relaxed, the way his breath quickened and grew heavier.

Felix bit his lower lip, his brows furrowing, his gaze darkening as his free hand slid up his abdomen. He brushed his fingers over his nipple, his lips parting, a strained moan escaping him. He pinched and twisted his nipple, the sensation shooting through his nerves and straight to his cock.

You watched as he slowly brought his pants and boxers down enough to expose his erection. Just the sight of it made your core pulse. He was bigger than you thought he would be. And you could feel yourself tingling, desperate for friction, almost numb just from watching him.

Felix groaned, his head falling back as his fingers wrapped around his cock. He gave a few slow, experimental strokes, his hips thrusting slightly. The sound of his hand moving over his cock sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You were completely hypnotized by the sight of him. You so badly wanted to hold it in your hand yourself, but you knew that'd be crossing a line, the very same line you were currently dancing on the edge of.

Your hands wandered, your fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts and the top of your underwear. Your fingers grazed your sensitive flesh and you whimpered, your hips jerking reflexively. It would be so embarrassing if he found out you were touching yourself because of him, but that thought only made you want to do it even more.

Felix moaned, his eyes fluttering open. His gaze landed on you and his breath caught. Watching how your eyes were transfixed on his cock, his hand moving teasingly slow, making sure you could see everything.

He was mesmerized by the way you looked, and how aroused you looked just by watching him, he felt a rush of pride knowing that he was the one making you look that way. His fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him as his movements sped up, his chest heaving.

"You like watching me, hm?" he asked, his voice deep and raspy, his accent strong and hitting your ears in a different way.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You were too far gone to speak. Instead, you nodded, whimpering quietly.

He chuckled softly, his eyes darkening. "Fuck, that's so hot," he groaned, his gaze flickering over your body, drinking in the sight of you. "I wanna make a mess on that pretty face of yours."

Your heart pounded, the words sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. You couldn't stop yourself, you moaned, the sound surprising both of you. Felix groaned, his cock twitching in his hand, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

You were getting so close, and it had never happened this fast in your life. The sight of his cock, the sounds he was making, the way he was staring at you; it was too much. Your hand moved faster, your fingers dipping into your aching cunt and brushing against your clit. You gasped, your hips jerking involuntarily.

Felix's eyes widened, his gaze flickering between your face and your hand. He sucked in a sharp breath, his jaw clenching.

"Are you... are you touching yourself?"

His words hit you like a slap. Your eyes snapped open, your face burning with shame. But before you could say anything, his fingers tangled in your hair, tugging roughly.

"Don't stop," he hissed.

"But-"

"Just keep going," he urged, his voice low and husky. "I want to watch, too."

Your stomach flipped. He wanted to watch you? You moaned in response, your fingers stilling inside of you. Your body shook, the intensity of his gaze too much for you to handle. You closed your eyes, trying to ground yourself, but it didn't help.

His hand stilled, his fingers moving back to its grip on your chin. "Keep going, keep looking at me."

And before you could think about how embarrassed you'd be later, your fingers started moving again, his gaze searing into you. You couldn't breathe, your body trembling as his hand moved faster. You were so close, so painfully close. You gasped, arching into your touch.

Felix groaned, his head falling back. "Fuck, just like that."

His words went straight to your core. You could feel yourself pulsing, the pressure building. Your hand moved faster, the sensations flooding your body. Your hips bucked against your hand, a broken moan slipping past your lips.

Felix's gaze locked with yours, watching your every movement, your every expression. He could tell you were much closer than he was, but he seemed to love it all.

He watched your face, taking in every detail, committing them to memory. He was mesmerized, captivated, entranced. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you. The sight of you, the sound of your breathing, the way you moaned and shuddered; it was intoxicating.

You were right on the edge, your orgasm building rapidly. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, threatening to snap at any moment. Your hips jerked against your hand, your fingers frantically moving over your clit.

"Lixie... I can't-" you moaned, the sound coming out strangled and desperate.

Felix's gaze flickered over your face, taking in every inch. His jaw clenched, his lips parting. He let out a low groan, the sound echoing in your ears.

"Cum for me," he commanded, his voice rough and breathless. "Cum for me and I'll cum all over that pretty face of yours."

The words sent a shiver down your spine. Your whole body shuddered, heat flooding your veins. You gasped, arching into your hand. Your hips bucked against the couch, the tension building rapidly.

Your orgasm crashed over you, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You cried out, your eyes screwing shut. You couldn't control the sounds that spilled from your mouth, a mixture of moans and cries and curses.

Felix's eyes widened, his gaze fixed on you. He watched every detail, his eyes glazed over with lust. He watched as you came undone, his lips parted, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. He groaned, his cock throbbing, precum dripping onto his hand.

"Fuck, that's hot," he murmured, his voice low and breathless.

You could barely catch your breath, your chest heaving. You couldn't stop trembling, your body overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm. You whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Felix's grip on your chin loosened, his fingers gently brushing across your cheek. His thumb brushed over your lips, the tender gesture sending a shiver down your spine.

"Such a good girl," he whispered, his tone affectionate and almost loving.

The words made your heart skip a beat.

But then his hand traveled down, wrapping around your neck and pulling you closer. You gasped, your eyes fluttering shut. His grip was firm but gentle, his fingers digging into the soft skin.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

You obeyed without question, your eyes opening, meeting his.

Felix groaned, his gaze darkening, his lips parting. "God, that's so hot," he breathed, his cock twitching in his hand.

You couldn't look away, couldn't take your eyes off of him. You could feel the heat in your face, the flush creeping up your neck. He was beautiful, so fucking beautiful, and the sight of him made your heart race.

His hand moved faster, his breathing ragged, his gaze intense. He was so close, his body tensing, his hips bucking. He moaned, his eyes fluttering shut, his fingers tightening around your neck.

You couldn't stop your mouth from opening, slightly letting your tongue fall out. Your mind was screaming at you, telling you what a bad idea this was, but you didn't care.

Felix's eyes opened, his gaze locking with yours. He groaned, his hips jerking, his body trembling. His breathy and somewhat cute moans got louder as his hips rolled and bucked, his hand moving faster and faster.

He was getting close. So, so close. His body shuddered, his cock throbbing. He gasped, his grip on your neck tightening, his body going rigid. His eyes screwed shut, his lips parting. A shudder rippled through him, his orgasm crashing over him.

You couldn't take your eyes off of him. He was so beautiful, so perfect. The way his face twisted in pleasure, the way his chest heaved, the way his lips parted. You were mesmerized, captivated, entranced. You couldn't tear your eyes away.

And then, he opened his eyes, his gaze locking with yours. He moaned, his cock twitching. A thick, warm stream of cum landed on your face, splattering across your face and tongue. You couldn't look away, couldn't think straight.

His grip loosened on you as he laid back on the couch, his eyes drifting closed. You were frozen in place, stunned, unable to move. His cum dripped down your cheek, his taste lingering on your tongue.

It wasn't until Felix was completely spent that you came to, snapping out of your trance. Your face was burning, the heat crawling up your neck, your ears turning pink. You could feel his cum slowly sliding down your cheek, the sensation strange and foreign.

"Oh, shit."

You flinched at the sound of his voice, his eyes fluttering open.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean- I should've-"

Before he could continue, you swallowed the cum that was pooling in your mouth. You could feel it running down your cheek, leaving a trail of warmth on your skin.

Felix's eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed red.

You could feel yourself blush, embarrassment flooding your veins. You could feel his cum, still warm and sticky, clinging to your face. The feeling was unfamiliar and strange, but not unpleasant.

Felix cleared his throat, his gaze flickering away.

"I should- uh- I'll just go clean up."

You couldn't speak, couldn't move. You couldn't even look at him.

The two of you sat in silence, the tension heavy and awkward. Neither of you knew what to say, what to do. Neither of you had ever imagined this happening, and now, here you were.

"I'll... see you later."

You could hear his footsteps, the sound growing distant as he left the room.

And that was it.

You were alone, his cum still on your face. You felt a wave of shame, of guilt, of embarrassment. You started this, you asked your own best friend to do that in front of you, and you came in front of him, even worse to the thought of him.

You wanted to cry, to scream, to hide. You couldn't look at him again, you couldn't stand the thought of facing him, but you couldn't stay here.

You rushed to your feet, your legs shaking. You ran into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you. You stood there, in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection.

You looked like a mess, like a disaster, a fucking wreck. Your hair was a mess, your face covered in cum, your shirt slightly tucked into your pants.

Things had just changed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

taglist for my lovelies : @loverbangchan, @reignessance, @imperfectlyperfectprincess1, @armystay89, @ihrtlix, @lovestaysblogs, @jeyelleohe, @celebration88, @honeyybbuubblleess

[aomiiine]

TUTORING GONE SOUTH

A TUTORING SESSION … college student!caleb x fem!reader warning(s) -> nsfw, MDNI (18+), pure filth ahead !! somewhat attraction to intelligence (vaguely STEM focused), established relationship (bf/gf), slightly perverted caleb, oral (f receiving), pussy drunk caleb, he makes you read smth while eating you out, not proofread wordcount. 1.6k (small rushed smth to get my creative juices flowing so this is just word-vomit//it was NOT supposed to be this long lol) taglist. @jellysix @tinycatharsis @wonuwuuuu @wonryllis @tsukkisukkii

A TUTORING SESSION WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND takes a turn for the better, or worse, when he finds your legs nudging his more than normal under the table. He finds your fascination with him just as interesting.

it was somewhere in the afternoon when you persuaded caleb to be your personal tutor. Well, not exactly ‘persuaded’, really, since he was more than willing to help you with anything. Including academics.

“You’re doing good so far.. Understanding it better after my explanation, pip-squeak?” Caleb asked, genuinely curious if you made any progress with his help. He knew some courses weren’t exactly for the weak, especially any mathematical or scientifical subjects. The one he was helping you with right now, physics. His specialty. It had to be considering his course.

“Yes, much better than my professor’s lectures. I should pay you for this, Caleb. How much for an hour?” You teased, peeling your attention from the book on the table to look at him with a playful smirk.

Caleb scoffed in response, turning his body to face you more than he already way. “Pay me? Yeah, why don’t you pay your beloved boyfriend with a kiss.” Caleb grinned mischievously at you, leaning in close to your face, clearly expectant for you to keep your word.

“As if,” you grumbled, head dipping back down to the thick book laid on the flat surface of the table, a familiar heat crawling to your cheeks. Your knee began to bounce traitorously beneath the table, unintentionally bumping his thigh beside you.

“Hm, you’re right.. A kiss isn’t enough,” he murmured, eyes observing every detail of you with a lazy smile all the while resting his temple on his knuckles. Caleb shifts, hand moving down to steady your thigh, slender fingers rubbing soothing circles over your knee as his palm caressed your skin through the skirt you wore. The contact made you freeze, brows furrowing in an attempt to ignore and concentrate.

“I always need more of your, princess.. doesn’t matter when, where or how.” Caleb’s hand travelled further up your inner thigh as he confessed his greed, squeezing the plump flesh he found beneath your skirt, the fabric lifting up high. The soft gasp you exhaled didn’t go unnoticed by his perceptive ears, your clear sign of pleasure responded with his fingers teasing the edges of your lacy panties.

“Caleb, I should be studying..” you muttered weakly, legs squirming at his invading fingers, playing with the seams of your panties with gentle tugs, letting it snap back onto your skin to leave a little sting. “Then keep on studying. Act like I’m not here, playing with your pretty pussy,” he murmured the last part hotly into your ear, being sure to lean in close enough that you’re acutely aware of his presence beside you.

“W-wait—too soon!” you yelped helplessly, grip on your pen tightening when his fingers reached beneath your panties, smearing your folds with slick arousal and impatiently delving two digits into your entrance the second he found it. Your head dipped once more, teeth biting on lip to stifle your pathetic moans.

Caleb didn’t say a word, admiring his effect on you as his fingers curled and thrusted in your wet heat, using the heel of his palm to grind against your sensitive clit. He smirked mischievously, violet eyes glinting with the same sentiment before he decided to tease you further, quickening the pace of his fingers long enough for you to feel yourself brought to edge.

He keeps on going even when your thighs quiver and part wide on your seat for him, hips rolling to meet his plummeting in desperation to chase your high—only to be denied of it.

“You son of a—aah, Caleb,” you whined, gaze hazy with lust now wide open and sharp to glare at your boyfriend sitting beside you undoubtedly amused. “Why’d you stop? I was so fucking close..”

“Because I wanted to,” he answered with a chuckle that grated on your nerves, making you more frustrated than you already were. He watched you struggle to recompose and grip your pen tighter, eyes searching for the exercise you were doing in attempt to continue. Yet, the moment you scribbled something down, his slender fingers slid out of you, digits glistening with your slick, making you hiss.

“Enough of this. Come up here.” Caleb withdrew his hand from your core, squeezing the flesh of your thigh before resting on your hip, fingers digging into your skin in a gentle pull.

you grumbled a curse beneath your breath before getting up from your seat, taking a few steps to stand in front of him after he pushed his chair back with a screech, making space for you without his hand leaving your body. He lifted the other arm, lifting you up with ease and setting you down on the edge of the table.

“What’re you planning?” Caleb’s hands moved to part your legs, letting you lean back on the table, a hand held behind you to support yourself up. “Nothing special.. Just a little playtime.” He said so with a smirk, voice filled with innuendo.

You huffed, eyes fixed on him as you felt his fingers hook over your panties, pulling it down and off swiftly. Just when you thought he’d dip his head down to your core, he stopped for a little something, reaching out for your textbook on the table and flipping the pages for a long yet familiar paragraph.

“Here. I want you to read this aloud, princess,” he instructed, a hint of authority in his tone. The side-long glance he made at you told you he wasn’t going to take no for an answer at all.

Caleb kept his eyes on you until you nodded, swallowing to dampen your suddenly dry throat. He hooked his arms under your thighs, fingers caressing your skin wherever he found it. His leaned down close to your bare pussy, blowing a hot breath against your folds to get a reaction—which he did—before his tongue darted out to lick a firm stripe up your entrance, delving into your folds with ease to find your slit. He buried his face deeper, nose grazing your throbbing clit the harder he ground himself into you.

You didn’t began reading straight away, moaning his name to adjust to his tongue invading your tight pussy with enthusiasm. “O-okay, so..” you exhaled heavily, head turned down to your shoulder to read the words of the text, stammering on your way with how skilfully his tongue curled deep inside your warm channel, pulling out to flick and suckle on your bundle of nerves.

“.. which leads to, ngh” you trailed off, eyes fluttering shut and mouth left agape in for a silent, breathless moan when Caleb’s hand trailed up from your thighs to your hips, fingers clinging onto your ass-cheeks, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Wrong line, princess.. You’re supposed to be on paragraph two, not three,” he groaned against your fluttering cunt, chin smeared with arousal as he lapped up your nectar with fervour, eager to swallow it all.

“Don’t think I don’t have that text memorised, baby,” he laughed lowly, desire filled eyes glancing up at your crumbling self, barely able to focus on the task he gave you. “So you better read it right if you wanna cum,” he warned with a sharp slap to your rear, revelling in the way you jolted at the impact, giving him the opportunity to ravish you further.

“Yes, please, Caleb, I wanna cum—holy fuck,” you moaned whorishly, head thrown back in pure, unadulterated pleasure when the slick muscle of his tongue fucked your insides rapidly, bringing you inches closer to your impending orgasm. The text was long forgotten by you for the moment, until he slowed agonisingly slow again, raising a silent demanding brow up at you. It seemed like your begging could only do so much.

You bit back a curse before turning down for the book beside you again, picking up where you left off. Caleb, ever the so-closeted-sadist, chucked shamelessly against your aching pussy, savouring the way your walls fluttered around his tongue while you struggled to read, words tripping as you went and sped up your little presentation so he could finally let you cum.

Reaching the last syllable, you shifted your attention back to the ruthless assault he made on your clit, finally able to close your eyes and let him lead you to sexual bliss. A hand of yours drifted from the edge of the table to tangle your fingers inside his dark locks, grabbing a fistful to push him further, deeper, in your depths, taking away his privilege to suck in some air.

“Fuck, that’s my girl.. my girl needs to cum, doesn’t she? ‘fcourse she does,” he growled softly between fleeting moans, mouth alternating between your clit and your slit, obsessed on the thought of making you climax. Your moans and cries reached a pitch, nails raking over his scalp gently as your pleasure reached a crescendo, toes curling and legs quivering like a knot ready to snap.

With one last nibble on your sensitive nub, your orgasm came in like a tidal wave, overwhelming your every nerve. Caleb stayed in place all the way, waiting for your twitches to stop and helping you bask in the afterglow. Panting with a heaving chest, you collapsed back onto the table, hair sprawled with beads of sweat falling down your temple, skin sheened with sweat.

“I’ll help you relax for a while, okay? Then, we’ll get back to our study session. I’m not done getting your mind in shape yet,” he grinned drunkenly, licking his lips for all the rest of your juices that he swallowed in thirsty gulps.

[carisc4pshaw]

Morning delays

In which Spencer and Fem!Reader are late for work yet again because Spencer can’t keep his hands off her. (Smut!)

word count: 1.3k

tags: porn without plot, Smut, co workers, late to work, love, boyfriend&girlfriend, long term couple, showering together, sex, intimacy, P in V, unprotected P in V, Minor breeding kink, raw sex, 18+, fingering (f receiving), mentions of oral sex (f receiving), nipple play.

warnings: 18+!! whole thing is smut, unprotected sex (don’t be like them guys!)

notes: I don’t think I missed any tags anyway this is the most sexual thing ever written so I hope you horny people enjoy it.

————————-❤️‍🔥—————————

Just before you and Spencer had fallen asleep last night you had set the alarm for 7 am, it probably wasn’t enough time to get ready in the morning but you had a late night watching a movie with your long-term boyfriend not that either you saw much of it because before you got to the halfway point Spencer was on his knees between your thighs sucking your clit and circling your entrance, sliding his tongue into you until you had reached multiple orgasms.

You were certain the alarm hadn’t gone off yet because usually that would wake you straight away but today you were awoken to your boyfriend’s hands up your shirt resting on your breasts and tweaking with your hard-ish nipples. 

“What time is it?” You asked Spencer with a soft moan. 

“Almost 7 am.” 

“Baby we don’t have time, the alarm is about to go off,” You moaned halfway through what you were saying. 

One of Spencer’s hands slid down your stomach, “You want me to stop?”

“Well no…”

“Is your pussy already wet for me darling?” Spencer whispered into your ear. He wasn’t one for dirty talk all the time but when he did it the throbbing between your legs was only ever worse. You needed him badly and by the feel of things, he needed you too. 

You nodded, “Yes Spence.”

“Can I feel?” His hand still moving lower. 

“Yes,” With your signal he slid his hand under the waistband of your panties avoiding your clit as he ran a finger through your folds to collect your wetness, “Mhm Spence.”

“Beautiful, you’re so wet,” He spoke just before the alarm went off. With one quick movement, he took his hand from your panties and switched the alarm off before positioning himself between your legs. 

His large hands landed on your waist gripping you firmly. He leaned down attaching his lips to a nipple swirling his tongue around it for a couple of minutes until moving on to the next. 

His mouth pulled away from your nipple with a loud pop. He rested his hands at the side of your hips playing with the lace of your underwear. 

“Can I take them off now?” He looked straight into your eyes. 

“Please,” You said with a breathy sigh. 

Spencer pulled them off leaving them somewhere in the room, you’d find them later.

“What do you want?” Spencer asked, one of his hands running from your waist to your hip back and forth. 

Your eyes trailed between the both of you where you could see his erection through his boxers. 

“I want that,” You smiled sweetly and innocently. 

“What?” Spencer smirked. 

“Your dick.”

Spencer nodded, “Let me warm you up first.”

With that, he pushed your legs further apart his hands resting on the apex of your thighs, his thumbs nudging your folds due to the size of his hands. 

He used one of his left thumb to run back and forth over your closed folds. 

“Stop teasing we don’t have much time.”

Without another word he plunged his index finger inside of you, quickly curling it inside of you knowing exactly where your most pleasurable spot was. 

“Oh my god. Spence another!” You moaned with a little shout. 

“Yes baby,” Spencer pushed his middle finger inside, pulling them out a small way to push them back in much harder hitting your g-spot as hard as he could.

You reached down between you pressing two fingers to your clit and rubbing it in a quick motion. 

“Oh fuck, Spencer don’t stop,” You moaned loudly throwing your head back. 

Right as you felt your walls begin to tighten around his fingers and that familiar coil in your stomach he pulled his fingers out leaving your core pulsing around nothing. 

“What the fuck babe,” You groaned. You were frustrated, the tears began to well in your eyes. You didn’t want to cry, it just happened when you were frustrated or in this case when you couldn’t reach your peak of pleasure apparently.

“Hey no baby don’t cry,” Spencer wiped the tears from your eyes, “I’m going to make you cum I promise.”

“Why did you stop?” You frowned.

“I wanted you to cum when I was inside of you,” He ran his hand down your hair.

“Oh.”

“Is that okay?” Spencer asked giving you a kiss. 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” You reached for his boxers pulling them down just enough that his erection sprung out of them before he discarded the material completely. 

“How do you want me?” Spencer asked. 

You blushed biting your lip, “Like always.”

“Honey, you’re going to have to be more specific.”

You hid your face in his neck, “Raw,” You muttered.

Spencer smirked, you usually did it like that now that you had been together for three years and knew you were both clean but he loved hearing you say it. 

He rested his dick against your folds rubbing the tip against your clit to relax you again after leaving you without an orgasm a few minutes ago. 

You loved how his veins felt against you when he did that but right now you just craved him filling the empty space inside of you.

“Please,” You stared into his hazel eyes that were clouded with lust.

You breathed in deeply as he pushed the head inside of you slowly, his fingers coming to your clit to help as he entered you. He wasn’t too girthy but he had length and his head always stretched you out the perfect amount that you experienced a slight tweak of pain before the rush of pleasure.

Spencer wasted no time in picking up the pace pounding in and out of you quickly since you really had to be leaving soon, mornings were always for rougher faster sex and the evenings were for when he wanted to spend hours worshipping every inch of your body.

His tip grazed the nerves inside of you with every thrust and that partnered with the firm circles on your clit you knew you weren’t going to last very long. 

“Close already honey?” Spencer moaned feeling your walls tightening around him. 

“Fuck! Mhm,” You couldn’t speak anymore without a sting of moans leaving your mouth. 

“Good girl, hold it, I’m almost there,” Spencer thrust harder, your skin slapping together and your hips colliding.

“Spence please,” You moaned. 

“Yes okay baby okay,” Spencer groaned, “Do you want me to pull out?”

“No inside please.” 

Two more thrusts and you came around his dick just before he spilled his seed deep inside of you. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Spencer kissed your forehead which had a few beads of sweat on it. 

“You felt so good,” You couldn’t help biting your lip and giving him a satisfied look. 

“So did you sweetheart. I’m going to pull out okay?” 

You nodded as he pressed his thumb against your clit only to make small circles as he removed himself from you. It was slightly overstimulating but you knew he was just caring for you and nothing more.

“We are so late, we still need to shower,” You said looking over at the clock. 

“I thought we could shower at work, you know training is first on the schedule you’re just going to get sweaty again,” Spencer shrugged getting up from the bed to find the pieces of discarded clothing. 

“Excuse me? I’m showering before we leave,” You said with your eyes widening. 

“Why?” He asked and you hoped he was reading. 

“Because we smell of sex, from last night and this morning and I have ropes of your cum inside of me.”

Spencer smirked, “Leave it there, that’s pretty hot.” 

“You’re insane,” You rolled your eyes and got up from the bed.

“I was kidding, take a shower but I do like the thought of me being inside of you like that.”

Again you rolled your eyes, walking toward the bathroom, “Are you joining? We will save time and water.” 

“If I ever say no to that question, know there’s something wrong with me,” Spencer said following you through to the bathroom. 

————————-❤️‍🔥—————————

[regressionschool]

going full toddler: part 1

Marie had no idea what was coming.

She knew Steve had planned a weekend getaway, but the details were still a complete mystery. He had refused to tell her anything beyond the fact that she needed to be ready early in the morning. That, and the way he had smirked as he told her, "Don't pack anything. I've got it all covered," sent shivers down her spine—half excitement, half nervous anticipation.

She had suspicions, of course. Their dynamic had always included elements of CGL and ABDL, but usually, it was within the comfort of their home. This was something different. Bigger.

When Marie woke up that morning, groggy from sleep and stretching lazily in bed, she noticed something immediately—Steve was standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, a warm but firm look in his eyes.

"Good morning, princess," he said smoothly. "Your husband isn’t here today. Just Daddy."

Marie’s stomach flipped, a deep blush rushing to her cheeks. She tucked herself under the blankets instinctively.

Steve only chuckled. "Oh, sweetie, no hiding. We have a long drive ahead of us, and I need to get my little girl ready. Sit up for me."

Marie hesitated, but that teasing lilt in his voice made it impossible to resist. Slowly, she peeked out from under the covers, her heartbeat quickening.

"That's my good girl," he praised, pulling the blanket away completely. "Now, let's get you dressed. No arguments, no fussing. Daddy has everything picked out."

And he did.

Marie watched as he pulled out a soft pink t-shirt with ruffled sleeves—one that barely reached past her belly button—along with a pair of shortalls that fastened at the shoulders. But what really made her squirm was the thick, crinkly diaper he held up, unfolding it with an unmistakable whoosh.

Her face burned. "D-Daddy…"

He only raised an eyebrow. "What’s the rule, little one?"

She swallowed, knowing exactly what he meant. She hadn’t been told the full list of rules yet, but she had been told one thing: this weekend, she was in full toddler mode. Steve—Daddy—was in charge, completely. The only way she could stop anything was with a single word: red.

And she wasn’t going to use it. Not when the butterflies in her stomach were from excitement as much as embarrassment.

Once she was powdered, padded, and dressed, Steve guided her to the vanity and gently pushed her down onto the stool. "There we go. Now, let’s get those pretty hair ties in," he murmured, combing through her hair with practiced ease.

Marie watched in the mirror, her breath catching as he gathered her hair into two high pigtails. With each careful movement of his hands, she felt smaller, sinking deeper into her little space. The final touch came with two pink bows, tied neatly at the base of each pigtail.

The sight of herself—diaper bulging beneath her shortalls, soft pink top, and those childish pigtails—made her feel impossibly small. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, the thick padding reminding her just how little she really was this weekend.

"Perfect," Daddy said, brushing a thumb over her cheek. "Now, let's get you buckled in."

Minutes later, she found herself in the backseat of the car, a sippy cup placed in her lap, her feet swinging slightly over the edge of the seat.

"Comfy, princess?" Steve asked as he adjusted the rearview mirror to catch her face.

Marie squirmed, the thick padding under her making it impossible to ignore her situation. She held onto the sippy cup with both hands, lips pursed. She felt so little already.

"Y-yeah…" she finally mumbled.

Steve clicked his tongue. "Excuse me?"

Marie sucked in a breath, cheeks heating again. "Yes, Daddy…" Marie’s face burned, but she couldn’t stop the excited, happy squirm that ran through her. The trip had just begun, and she had no idea what surprises lay ahead. But she did know one thing for sure—she wasn’t in charge. Not even a little bit. And she loved it.

"That’s my good girl," he praised before pulling out of the driveway.

The gentle hum of the car and the rhythmic passing of trees outside the window soon lulled Marie into a drowsy haze. The soft crinkle beneath her, the lingering warmth of Daddy’s praise, and the comforting weight of the sippy cup in her hands all worked together to pull her into a light sleep.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out when a sudden beep-beep-beep cut through her dreams.

Marie’s eyes fluttered open, disoriented and groggy. The car was still moving, the scenery outside unfamiliar, and for a moment, she forgot where she was.

“Wha—?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes clumsily. Her pigtails tickled her cheeks as she turned her head. “What was that?”

Steve, still focused on the road, glanced at his phone, silencing the alarm with one hand. “Just Daddy’s reminder,” he said casually.

Marie blinked, trying to shake off the sleepiness. Everything still felt fuzzy, the world not quite making sense yet. “Reminder for what?”

Daddy smirked at her through the rearview mirror. “Well, first off—good morning again, sleepyhead.”

She pouted, cheeks warming. “M’not sleepy.”

“Mhmm. That’s why you were snoring a minute ago?”

“I don’t snore!” she whined, kicking her feet against the seat.

Steve picked up the full water bottle from the cupholder beside him and reached back, wiggling it slightly so she could see. "Time to swap out your water, little one. Let’s see that sippy."

Marie blinked, her grip tightening around her current bottle. Her cheeks pinked as she glanced down at it—only half-finished.

Steve raised an eyebrow, his voice playful but firm. "Uh-oh. Someone wasn’t drinking like a good girl."

A deep flush bloomed across Marie’s face. She quickly lifted the sippy to her lips and started sucking, desperate to make up for lost time. The moment the cool water touched her tongue, she realized just how thirsty she actually was.

Steve chuckled. "That’s it, sweetie. Such a good girl for Daddy, drinking all on your own."

The praise sent a wave of warmth through Marie that had nothing to do with the sun outside. She felt impossibly small, gripping the sippy cup with both hands and drinking as eagerly as she could, wanting more of that sweet approval.

By the time she finally lowered the cup, a tiny droplet of water escaped down her chin. She wiped it away quickly, trying to act casual.

Steve reached back again, palm open. "Let me see, princess."

Marie hesitated but handed over the now empty bottle. Without missing a beat, Steve unscrewed the lid and replaced it with the fresh one, tucking the used one into the bag he had stashed on the passenger seat.

"There we go," he said smoothly, placing the full sippy back into her hands. "Fresh water for my little one." Marie looked down at it shyly, feeling something melt inside her at the simple act. Then, as she shifted slightly, she felt something else—the thick padding between her legs pressing snugly against her, crinkling softly with even the smallest movement. The reminder made her squirm some more.

Marie settled back into her seat, her new sippy cup resting against her tummy. She peeked at Steve through the rearview mirror, her lips pursing slightly before she asked, “Daddy… can I have my phone?”

Steve didn’t answer right away. He let the question hang as he merged onto a highway, one hand steady on the wheel while the other tapped the turn signal. Then, he glanced at her reflection, his expression calm but knowing.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said with a smirk, shaking his head slightly. “Toddlers don’t have phones, remember?”

Marie blinked, sitting up straighter. “Wait… you didn’t bring it?”

“Nope,” he said simply. “Left it right on the nightstand where it belongs.”

Her stomach flipped. “But—”

“No buts, little one,” Steve interrupted smoothly. “You don’t need it this weekend. No checking messages, no scrolling, no big-girl distractions. Just you, Daddy, and lots of fun.”

Marie’s mouth opened, then shut again. The realization settled deep in her chest—she really didn’t have her phone. No notifications. No way to check the time. No way to zone out with a quick scroll.

For a moment, it made her feel weirdly exposed. Vulnerable. She wasn’t used to not having it, even when she was in little space. There was always an option to pull herself back into her normal, adult world if she wanted to.

But now…

Now, she really was just Daddy’s little girl.

She fidgeted, her fingers tracing the smooth surface of her sippy cup, eyes downcast. “What if I get bored?” she mumbled.

Steve chuckled. “Sweetheart, you’re a toddler. Toddlers don’t get bored, they just find things to be curious about.”

Marie pouted, but when she looked up, she saw his raised eyebrow in the mirror, and her pout softened.

“Tell you what,” he said, his tone light but still dripping with authority, “why don’t you do what little girls do? Look out the window, watch the trees go by, play with your stuffie.” He nodded toward the soft plush bunny sitting beside her in the seat—another thing she hadn’t noticed he’d packed for her.

Marie huffed, crossing her arms dramatically—but deep down, her tummy flipped at how real this was starting to feel. No phone. No control. Just Daddy making all the decisions.

With a little sigh, she turned her head to the window, pressing her forehead lightly against the cool glass. The world outside blurred past—rolling hills, clusters of trees, the occasional glimpse of farmland. Everything felt so much bigger like this, like she was really just a little girl being taken on a big adventure with no say in where they were going.

Her thumb hovered near her mouth for a second, an old habit from when she was feeling extra small, but she quickly grabbed her bunny instead, hugging it close.

“There’s my good girl,” Steve praised, his voice full of warmth. “See? I bet you’ll notice lots of things outside that you never pay attention to when you’ve got your nose in that phone.”

Marie squirmed at the praise, cheeks warming.

Another hour passes, the steady hum of the car and the rhythmic scenery lulling Marie into a soft daze. She’s already on her third sippy cup of the drive, and it’s finally catching up to her. She squirms in her seat, the thick padding beneath her crinkling softly with every movement.

Steve, watching through the rearview mirror, can see the telltale signs—her knees press together, then apart, then together again. She grips her bunny tight, her fingers kneading at the soft fabric as she wiggles, shifting positions in a futile attempt to distract herself.

And then, she goes still.

For a moment, she clutches her stuffed bunny a little tighter, her breath catching. Then, just as quickly, she exhales, her entire body relaxing into the seat, the tension melting away. The only sound is the faintest sigh, almost imperceptible, followed by the softest, telltale crinkle beneath her.

Steve knows exactly what’s happening.

But he doesn’t say a word.

Instead, he keeps his eyes on the road, hiding his smirk as they continue on. A few miles later, he spots a small rural rest stop—nothing fancy, just a shaded picnic area and a few vending machines beside a winding trail. It’s the perfect place to stretch their legs.

“We’re stopping for a bit, princess,” he announces, pulling off the highway.

Marie blinks, startled from her dazed state. “Oh… okay.”

As the car rolls to a stop, she shifts again, and that’s when she really feels it. The once-dry bulk between her legs is now warm and squishy, pressing against her with every movement. She swallows hard, her cheeks heating up as the reality of it settles in.

But at the same time… she’s oddly glad for the break. A chance to get up and walk around, even if the thick, damp padding is impossible to ignore now.

Steve steps out and comes around to open her door. “Come on, little one. Let’s get those legs moving.”

Marie hesitates, then takes his offered hand, letting him help her out of the car. As she stands, the full weight of the soaked diaper makes her knees wobble slightly, the squishy sensation both foreign and familiar.

She chews her lip, looking up at Steve, but he only gives her a knowing smile. “Feels different now, doesn’t it?” he teases, giving her a playful pat on the bottom.

Her face flames, and she buries it against his chest with a small whimper.

“Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothes, stroking her back. “You’re doing so well for Daddy.”

Marie exhales shakily, letting him guide her away from the car. The walk is a welcome distraction, the gentle movement making her feel a little less self-conscious. They wander toward a quiet corner of the rest stop, Marie clutching Steve’s hand, occasionally stealing glances at him.

She doesn’t have to ask what’s coming next. She knows.

And sure enough, as they reach the car again, Steve gives her that look—the one that makes her tummy flutter.

“Arms up, princess,” he instructs gently.

Marie pouts but obeys, letting him lift her into the backseat. As soon as she’s settled, Steve reaches between her legs, pressing lightly against the front of her shortalls. The moment he does, her cheeks burn, and she squirms, but there’s no hiding it now.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, his voice warm and proud. “Already nice and wet for Daddy.”

Marie whines softly, hiding her face behind her bunny.

Steve chuckles, ruffling her hair before pulling out another full sippy cup from the bag. “Here you go, sweetheart.”

Marie peeks over the bunny, pouting. “But Daddy…”

Steve tilts his head. “But what, little one?”

Her lips press into a thin line, but after a moment, she sighs and reaches for the cup. She knows there’s no getting out of it.

“That’s what I thought,” Steve teases, giving her a playful boop on the nose before buckling her in.

As he pulls onto the highway, he catches her in the mirror again.  She has no idea how much further they have to go… or how much fuller that diaper is going to be by the time they get there.

[reidmania]

maiden name | s.reid

summary; reader is struggling to accept having to change her last name, spencer is there to remind her he will love her regardless.

warnings; fem reader, talks about changing names, reader has a healthy childhood (the fact this is a warning?!?) reader grew up with two brothers, fiancee!reader, almost smitten spencer, mentions a childhood dog death, doubts, anxiety, hurt x comfort, a little angst but its pretty sweet overall, happy ending duh! Reader graduated highschool and uni

an; HAI GUYS!! first fic in who knows how long 🔥🔥

Spencer was perfect. The proposal was perfect. Private, safe, romantic. Everything you had always dreamed of and more. He had made sure you had gotten your nails done recently enough, he made sure you loved them. He used Penelope and his female coworkers to figure out exactly what ring you would want. Of course, he already knew, but their reassurance helped.

You didn’t see it coming, but that wasn’t a bad thing. saying yes to spending the rest of your life with Spencer Reid was the easiest thing you had ever done. You never doubted that for a second, the fact you wanted Spencer, everyday, for the rest of your life. To feel the warmth of him when you woke up, or to see the small note on your bedside table when he had to wake up early for work and didn’t want to disturb you.

You wanted his long rambles, and beautiful mind everyday, for as long as the universe would allow you to have it. You wanted his too sweet left over coffee’s when you were running late and he offered you the rest of his so you didn’t have to wait for your own to brew.

You wanted his fears, everything that made him second guess, you wanted every chance to reassure him, you would spend the rest of your life reminding him how perfect he was to you, for you, and you would do so happily.

You were completely enthralled by Spencer from the moment you met him. And he never let you second guess if he felt the same when his actions made the answer clear as day. Spencer was the person you wanted to have a family with, to grow old with.

So why, a week before your wedding did a daunting feeling fill your stomach.

“You alright, baby?” Spencer’s hands gripped your waist gently as he moved past you in the kitchen, where the two of you were supposed to be cooking dinner. This had been routine, something you fell in love with. One night, dedicated to making dinner together. Eating it while watching some documentaries, because to you and him date nights didn’t need to be fancy, just together.

You however had zoned out, probably for the last long while. You had been cutting tomatos but your thoughts had gotten the best of you, leaving you staring at the knife in your hands, but not really looking at it. Now, snapped out of your daze, your head turned to Spencer as he held out a sheet of paper towel for you to wipe your hands.

You took it, pushing a soft smile to your lips. “Sorry- Yeah.” You said, eyes moving to the paper towel as you wiped away the juices the tomato had left. Spencer seemed unconvinced but hummed, moving to wrap his arms around your waist, his chin finding place on your shoulder.

The way his hands slipped under your (his) t-shirt, fingernails drawing gently up and down the skin of your waist, made you smile. The action so gentle and full of everything you needed in that moment. “Talk to me, sweet girl.” The touch a grounding reassurance that Spencer Reid, was not the issue.

And while you couldn’t seem to pinpoint the exact reason, you knew that reason was sitting in your childhood home, at the breakfast bar in the morning, the house smelling sweet with whatever your mother had been cooking for breakfast, the front door left wide open as your brothers came in and out, noise following where ever they went. Their friends coming in to steal a slice of toast, or a piece of fruit before they drove you all too school.

Because your house was the type of house they could do that.

The reason was in the living room on weekends, where you watched your brothers laughing and fighting over the mario kart round they had been playing, while you sat on the floor in between your mums legs while she braided your hair. Your dad due home from work any moment, which would be followed by more chaos and laughter because Saturday nights were movie night.

It was in long car rides full of meaningless bickering with your brothers, then a lot of giggling, pit stops and bathroom breaks. It was in your dad carrying you inside after you fell asleep in the car, which eventually turned into your brothers carrying you inside, when everyone got older and your dad’s back was no longer equipped for carrying body weight, your brothers never minded.

The reason was in your brother’s shared bedroom curled up in one of the beds, both of them on either of your side, all three teary eyed and sniffling because your childhood dog had just passed away and at 15, there was no where safer then in your older brothers arms. The reason was in how they allowed you to sleep on a mattress in their room for a month after, because your room felt too lonely without your dogs company anymore.

The reason was in when you graduated from high school, and your family cheered so loudly you couldn’t hear anyone else. It was in the flowers they gave you, in the hugs — and how it was the exact same when you graduated from university. It was in doing the exact same for your brothers when they graduated.

You hadn’t realised Spencer’s arms were wrapped around you, at some point you shifted, or he shifted you so your face was buried in his chest, cheeks tear stained. His hand on the back of your head, rubbing gently over your hair. Movement so tender it made you realise now Spencer’s arms were the safest place in the world.

“M’ sorry” you sniffled as you pulled away from the hug, the knuckles of your fingers coming to wipe away the wet spots under your eyes that left an uncomfortable residue of everything you were feeling. A shaky sort of breathless laugh leaving your lips, “It’s not a big deal, I’m being dramatic.” You smiled up at Spencer, a sad sort of smile.

He smiled back but you could see the worry in his eyes as he leant over to turn off the stove. He could read you better than you could, well enough to know this wasn’t a conversation you could have while juggling between cooking dinner. His hands then moved to cup your face, thumbs replacing your knuckles as he wiped away whatever was left on your cheeks.

“If its making you cry, its not dramatic, its how you feel.” He mumbled gently, eyes dancing over your face. Before he leant forward, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, the sort of one that made you exhale and melt into him a bit, the soft, lingering one he saved for moments when he knew you needed it. “Talking about it?” He asked, because he knew you, and knew sometimes all you needed was to cry, words weren’t always necessary to deal with it.

But you nodded, sniffling slightly. “Talking about it.” You agreed gently. Back of your hand coming to wipe your nose, followed by another sniffle.

Spencer smiled, “Okay pretty, go sit on the couch and I’ll make you a tea yeah?” He offered gently, you knew it was more because he knew you’d need a minute to mentally prepare what you were going to say, he knew you’d do that better without his gaze on you. He knew you’d be more comfortable on the couch, in the corner where you had a place to sink into in the corner because at least once, you would feel silly and embarrassed. Spencer knew you.

You nodded, offering him a grateful smile to which he responded by scrunching up his nose a little playfully, pressing another two quick kisses against your forehead before letting you go so you could walk to the living room. Which you sat, trying to make sense of your own emotions.

He didn’t take long but you know he waited till you nodded to follow through with entering the living room. He sat close, but not close enough to overwhelm you if your emotions became too much, but still close enough for you to feel he was there, enough to remind you that he was not the reason you were down.

The candle, the one lit in the middle of your coffee table, the same one your mother had lit your entire childhood didn’t help the way you were feeling, but it didn’t make it worse. In a way it was comforting, just no longer comforting enough.

“Did i do something?” Spencer asked, because he knew figuring out what the issue was vaguely would help him help you, and it would help you build the courage to tell him what was going on, and what you needed from him in order to fix this.

You shook your head, smiling gently. “No, Spence. It’s not— Nobody did anything. It’s just me.” You said quietly, his face twisted into something familiar, concern, doubt, worry. You hated that, and he knew you did. When he jumped to conclusions in his mind, overthinking getting the better of him.

“Second guessing?” He asked, his lip then caught in his teeth as he tried not to show how much getting the answer terrified him. You knew what he meant, second guessing the wedding, getting married. You almost wanted to laugh at his lack of understanding of how impossible it was for you to doubt that, when he was him, and oh so perfect, all the time even when he wasn’t — especially when he wasn’t.

You shook your head again, “No.” it was simple, straightforward because it was true.

He sighed something similar to relief, his eyes studying yours for a moment. “You gotta help me out here, angel.” He silently pleaded with you, because he tried not to show it, but you knew your random crying and emotional change was concerning to him, because he cared about you in an all consuming way.

“I don’t— i don’t know how to make it make sense.” You said quietly, looking down to fiddle with the engagement ring on your finger. Not because you were thinking about taking it off, but because it was something safe, and fiddling helped calm you down.

“Word vomit, I’ll put it together.” He said. A familiar line you had heard a hundred times, and he always seemed to prove that.

You sniffled again. “I- I just-“ you sighed, “I want to make it clear I’m not doubting you or us or anything— And its not that I don’t want yours.. Really its not— I like the way it sounds. I love your family.. Your mum- i feel bad i feel this way. I love you and I’m yours forever, I want this, I want you and I can’t wait” You breathed out, then your voice broke and the tears started all over again, a wet lining on your eyes that made your vision blurry and you afraid to blink, “And I’ll really miss my last name.”

You didn’t watch Spencer’s face twist into something a lot gentler and softer, as he shuffled closer on the couch to wrap his arms around you. It was easy to melt into him, so secure and safe and something that made this so difficult. Something you should be excited for feeling so scary and distant, and you really did feel bad you felt this way.

“You don’t have to change it, honey. You- I would take your name a million times if thats what you wanted — You don’t- Oh Im so sorry baby.” He mumbled as he pressed a handful of kisses into your hair, his hand moving to smooth it over in between.

“We could hyphenate it, if that’s what you wanted. God- Honey I don’t care about whose last name we take as long as I have you.” He said gently, voice so soft and honest in made your stomach twist and you wish you could better explain yourself, but you melted into him, letting the tears fall from your eyes.

A shaky breath left your lips, “Its not even so much about the name.” You spoke out quietly, “I guess— Its just my family, my life- Im good with change, y’know I am— I just.. I want yours— I’m just really gonna miss mine.” You breathed out.

He nodded and you could feel it, his hand moving from your head to your lower back.

“Okay— Thats okay. We can wait a while, yeah? You don’t have to change it immediately, we can wait till you have processed it and you’re ready. And if then — You decide you want to keep yours, or you want me to change mine, thats okay too. Sounds like a plan?” He offered.

Perfect Spencer Reid. He never failed you remind you. His patience and gentleness everlasting and unconditional.

“Sounds like a plan.”

[bunny-jpeg]

sinful sentences (four)

toto wolff - "think you can handle that?"

tags: smut/pwp, (ribbon) bondage, praise, dom/sub, dom!toto, sub!reader, pet names & honorific titles, size difference/kink, age gap (20s/50s), fingering, doggy style

the sinful sentences catalogue

it started with a bow. in your hair while you went to visit him on the track. he was happy to see you and when he saw the bow, his smile only grew. it was tucked in your hair, it wasn't a cheap little thing stuck to your curls. it made you look demure. toto had been seeing that word floating around the last few weeks, but you looked like the definition.

reserved, quiet, modest with that black satin bow in your hair. you were wearing a soft cream coloured long sleeve shirt and black wide legged pants that seemed to compliment your figure more than hide it. you looked beautiful as you leaned over to hand him his (dairy free) coffee before the start of the practice rounds.

"you look wonderful today." he said as took the coffee. he admired you for a moment before he sat down. he wondered as you got up on your tip-toes to kiss him if satin ribbon would look good on other parts of you too...

you two were no stranger to the world of kink. with the age and size difference between you two, there was zero reason to think you'd not be into kink. and over the time you've been together, toto had allowed himself to get more curious with kink.

an eager little bunny he called a romantic partner was always so open to letting toto do what he pleased. so when you saw the black satin ribbons as you stayed there knelt on the bed, you lit up like it was a present that toto was offering you.

he took you by the chin and made you look up at him, your gazes met and he thought you looked more beautiful than a setting sun. he smiled as he asked, "think you can handle that?"

"it's just ribbon, sir." you replied with a smile of your own. you melted into his touch when he kissed you on the cheek.

"yes it is, mein liebling. i'm glad you can see it's ribbon." he chuckled lightly, "you're far too gentle to have rough rope, delicate satin for a delicate woman." he took you by the wrist and kissed you on the inner part of it, "remember our word."

you nodded, "mercedes, sir."

"good girl." he said, a lowness to his voice that made you shift a little on the bed. and with time, toto removed all of your clothes. he was patience with it. he treated it like he was unwrapping a present.

and then he slowly got the satin on around our wrists, he bought your wrists behind your back and wrapped the material around your soft middle and thighs. and then finished by framing your breasts perfectly with the ribbon. it was delicate, beautiful.

toto got you down your stomach with your hips hitched. your legs spread enough to give him access to your wet pussy. and toto slowly fingered you slowly.

you squirmed under his touch while his long fingers worked against your sex. you gasped into the covers and arched your back a little bit and felt the excitement of lust through your body. he pleasured you in a way made you panting heavily. you swore under your breath and he chuckled lightly. he patted your behind with his free hand while he continued to finger you.

"beautiful." he said, "so beautiful. you feel amazing under my touch, you look divine, my angel." he felt the fire of lust in his body, he was still dressed in a white button up and slacks while you were nude save for the ribbon. he picked out the perfect one for you, highlighted your skin perfectly as he continued to stroke his fingers inside of your soaked pussy.

you whined in response, his words made something bloom in your body. his fingers were long and hit against all the right areas in you. you hissed into the bed when he rubbed against your g-spot. he knew exactly how to make his princess quiver with sexual desire. that was the beauty of a man as smart and cunning as toto wolff, he could easily find all the areas to make you buck and squirm.

"meine süße." he said, "you are handling me so well. but i feel you want more. i know i do, playing with your pussy is nice. but, i want to feel you, all of you." he said as he gave a few more thrusts of his fingers before he pulled them out and licked the wetness off of them. you couldn't see what he was doing with your head in the pillows, but the knowledge he was doing it made you feel pin-pricks across your skin.

he undressed faster than how he undressed you. clothes were unnecessary now, he needed to get out of them if he wanted to fuck his beloved. his sweet little submissive. the light of his life. he yearned for you the way that the fields of flowers yearned for the sun. you were dazzling and warm, and left toto in a state of loved embrace. his quick fingers undid his belt, and dropped it to the floor of the bedroom. soon his slacks were taken off, followed by everything. most was on the floor save for the (expensive) watch which ended up on the nightstand.

when he moved to put the watch down, you eyed his body up close and the sight of his erect cock made you lick your lips. you felt your heart leap before he pulled away and got himself behind you. hand on your back and the other on his cock as he inched his cock into you slowly. allowing you to get adjusted to him.

you still let out a string of sweet moans as your back arched a little bit, still struggling under the binds of the satin. it was an erotic sight. he loved it, your little struggle as he started to move a little faster. the feeling of his cock hitting all the right places.

he licked his lips and admired the feeling, the movement of his hips he felt the excitement rush through his body at the sight of his beloved all bound and beautiful. his thrusts were heavy, a power to them that made your heart flutter.

"you look beautiful all bound for me, my angel. you look good tied up in satin ribbons, delicate just like you. that is why i love you, you're soft and you make my mouth water. i yearn to feel you inside and out always. you have no idea what you do to me, every time i see you i am taken aback by how beautiful you are. i never get tired of you." he held onto your hips tightly and continued to move against you with a pace that made your toes curl. the pleasure mounted in your body as the two of you continued to make love on the bed.

your wrists were securely bound and you panted heavily against the covers with a sharp hitch in your hips from the feeling of him. you bent your back as he worked your body with heavy lust. he yearned for you, wanted you in ways that drove him mad. he wondered if next time he should bind you more. drape your body in satin knots that kept your legs open and your body exactly how he wanted you. he wondered if pastel pink would suit you better after he left massive marks on your heated skin. a wrapped little present for him.

he asked you, "are you feeling alright? do you need to use the word, you know you never have to ask for permission to use the safe word." while you two had an interesting sex life, toto knew the importance of safe words and other cautions when you indulged in kinky delights. he kissed you shoulder, "does my angel have anything to say?"

you looked over your shoulder and squirmed a little more in your silky binds, "no, sir. please, keep going." you said with conviction in your tone and who was toto to deny his lover her simple request.

he held on tighter, his grip near bruising as he laid his chest up against your chest and used your size difference as leverage to rut into you harder. he could feel your arms and the soft ribbons up against his toned chest as the he moved with a heavy force inside of you. fucking like this felt like a dream, to have your slick pussy wrapped around his cock was he took heavy strokes was a feeling of heaven he couldn't deny himself. you were simply too perfect for him.

"the day you let me into your life was the day that i knew heaven was real. the night i took you out, when we went to dinner together and you almost spilled the wine on the table. you weren't even drunk." he said as he continued to move against you, "i thought you were going to die when i paid for the bill in full, and then almost died again when i paid for your taxi home." his thrusts were hard and they could be felt in the back of your throat, "you deserve a gentleman. an older man who knows how to take care of a woman." he said, he could feel your rabbit-like heart beat through your back, "you deserve a real man, not a stupid little boy." his tone tainted with lust. his accent thicker due to the cloud of want in his head.

you felt amazing, the words used to describe you simply didn't exist as he worked his cock into you. he could feel the rapid pace of his heartbeat as he moved. the feeling of pleasure was an over-powering one. the lust he carried for you was what kept his pace going, what drove him to completion was the feeling of his beloved's pussy around his achy cock.

"maybe i should tie you up more often, soft things for a soft girl." he said as he kissed you neck from behind. his cock snug inside of you, "maybe next time you come with me to the track, i'll tie a ribbon around your wrist or your neck. at a glance it would appear as fashionable, but for you it'll be a reminder of who you belong to. who do you belong to, angel?"

you swallowed, "you, sir. always have, always will." your voice got a bit higher as the pleasure swarmed your brain. he placed another kiss on your neck and held you loosely by the throat as he continued to move. you didn't last much longer, fucking toto wolff was an all consuming feeling that made your toes curl and your pace quicken. you loved it as you clenched around his cock.

he kept you pinned as he worked your body, he kept you close to him as he thrusted in and out of your tight, sweet cunt. the feeling was immaculate as toto finished inside of you. he kept his cock inside of you as he finished and felt the air get knocked out of him as pleasure hit its peak. he fucked you through his climax and then as the pleasure simmered in his body, he slowed to a stop.

quickly he took the satin off of you and let you stretch out your arms after being in that position for as long as you were. he took you in his arms and covered you in warm kisses. you leaned into his touch and let yourself be held by him from behind while you stretched out your arms in front of you.

you giggled when his kisses tickled and then craned your neck for him to kiss you on the lips. his strong arms around you, holding you close to him. legs tangled together in a certain comfort and post-orgasmic bliss.

"i'm proud of you, i guess next time i should learn more tying techniques." his hand on your chest, "highlight all the beautiful parts of you with ribbon. wrapped like a present." he chuckled before he kissed the side of your neck.

the knowledge that he wanted to do this again excited you. maybe you should start wearing more bows while visiting your lover at work <3

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 11/?)

Some reasons are closer than you realize.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 7,4K

Warnings: smut, a little bit of female domination, vaginal sex, making love, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f!receiving), orgasm edging, resolved sexual tension, possessive behavior, Silco being a tease, Silco being bad with feelings, thoughts of wanting to kill someone, Silco POV

Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 10

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━ Silco was between her legs.

He hadn't planned for this when he entered the room the night before. Of course, he had noticed that peculiar glint in her eyes, something carrying that characteristic provocation, as if she were always testing his limits. He knew exactly what that restless, wicked mind of hers was scheming, but unlike what she had likely expected, he didn't take the bait. He simply shared the bed with her to actually sleep. He was far too exhausted to keep playing that game, and the last thing he wanted was to drag it out further. The confrontation in his office had already drained what little patience and energy he had left.

Still, the night hadn't been a loss. He had discovered something valuable: her feelings toward him were more... open, almost vulnerable. That was an advantage. He could work with that apparent softness, shape it to his interests. All in due time.

But not that night. At that moment, all he wanted was to sleep.

Sleep, however, had never been an easy visitor for Silco. He knew what it meant to lay his head on a pillow: opening the door to the specters of his mind. Nightmares, distorted memories, and the relentless sensation that he always needed to be alert haunted him. Most of the time, sleep only came through sheer exhaustion, when his body simply shut down, or through the medications Singed occasionally provided.

But that night was different. He was tired, yes, but not enough to pass out. However, her presence beside him—the steady, measured rhythm of her breathing, the warmth radiating from her proximity—had an unexpected effect. It was as if his own mind was willing to yield, to allow itself a rare moment of rest.

He lay beside her, not too close, but close enough to feel her pleasant warmth. He pretended to be asleep, something that surprised him in how well it worked. She seemed to settle, as if her usual restlessness faded the moment she believed he had already drifted off. It was almost curious how this woman, so full of life and provocation, seemed so small and serene while she slept.

Silco waited patiently. He watched as she slowly surrendered to exhaustion, until finally, her body relaxed and her breathing became steady. Only then, when he was certain she had completely fallen asleep, did he allow his gaze to rest on her.

She looked just as she had for the past seven nights—peaceful, her features softened in a way he rarely saw when she was awake. But this time, something was different. He knew that, unlike the previous nights, she would wake soon, and that certainty brought a peculiar sense of relief, though he would never admit it.

Silco didn't touch her. He didn't wrap an arm around her, didn't pull her closer. Instead, he turned to the other side, his eyes fixed on the darkness of the room, allowing the silence to consume him.

And then, finally, he slept. Still dressed in the same clothes, still burdened with the same worries, but for once, without the demons that usually haunted him. Only the sound of her breathing filled the room, a constant reminder that she was there. Against all odds, she was alive, beside him, in his bed—just as he had wanted. And for now, that was enough.

Silco wasn't sure how many hours he had slept, but the light seeping through the window—left uncovered the night before—betrayed the arrival of morning. However, it wasn't the brightness that pulled him from sleep. It was something else. Something more... tangible. Something he felt before he even opened his eyes.

When he finally did, the sight before him left him momentarily speechless.

She was there, straddling his lap. A vision that would sear itself into his mind like an unrelenting blaze.

She looked like a profane goddess, devoid of any trace of celestial purity, yet still divinely dangerous. Her tousled hair gave her a wild charm; the white shirt she wore slipped off one shoulder, revealing a glimpse of bare skin and the beginning of her breasts—more teasing than revealing. Her firm, bare thighs bracketed his hips, pinning him against the mattress as if she held complete control of the situation. The soft morning light kissed her skin, rendering her almost ethereal—a perfect blend of the profane and the sublime.

And her eyes... Those eyes burned with a fire Silco recognized all too well—intentions far from innocent.

He could get used to this, he thought. He could get very used to this.

Still, he made no move to touch her—not immediately. Silco was not a man who surrendered control easily, even in situations like this. Instead, he settled more comfortably into the bed, his eyes half-lidded in careful assessment as he arched a brow, an expression laced with curiosity and controlled disdain.

"Care to explain this?" His voice came out rough, a mix of lingering sleep and the situation at hand.

She smiled, a smile that promised nothing good.

"You looked like you needed help."

For a moment, Silco frowned, clearly confused by the meaning of her words. But then she moved—slowly—her hips tracing an almost imperceptible circle. It was enough for the meaning behind her words to crash over him like a ton of bricks. He had forgotten he could wake up like this.

Silco reacted immediately. His hands, firm and quick, reached for her hips, gripping them with a hold that conveyed both restraint and authority.

"Don't you dare."

She tilted her head, the mischievous gleam in her eyes growing as she bit her lip, as if testing his limits on purpose.

"I thought you liked a little... initiative."

Silco's grip on her hips tightened just slightly, holding her firmly in place.

"Be careful with your next move, dove."

When she tried to move her hips again, Silco reacted instinctively, attempting to push her off him, but the effort was useless. As if she had anticipated his attempt, she locked her legs against the mattress, keeping herself firmly in place. He felt the weight of her settle even more as she met his gaze with that stubborn, half-lidded look he was starting to know all too well. A look that clearly said: I'm not backing down.

"Get off." His voice was firm, a serious command, laced with the authority he always exuded. But to his growing frustration, she simply ignored him.

Instead, she leaned over him, her arms braced on either side of his head, moving close enough that her hair fell around his face, framing him. Suddenly, all he could see was her—her intense eyes, the teasing glint, and that suffocating proximity.

"You're pulling away." Her voice came as a murmur, laced with something between frustration and challenge. Her eyes met his with a seriousness that felt oddly out of place, considering the position they were in. "You haven't touched me since we got in here. I didn't think you were that stingy."

"What?" Silco blinked, thrown off by the sudden accusation. He tried to focus on responding, but it was difficult, considering the strategically placed weight pressing down on him, scattering his thoughts. "Is that why you're being so stubborn this early in the morning?" Silco let out an exasperated sigh, dropping his head back against the pillow. "Do you think I've lost interest in you?"

This time, it was her turn to roll her eyes, the condescension almost irritating.

"Oh, please, I'm not that naïve." A teasing smile curled her lips. "I know you want me. You want this..." And as if to prove her point, she moved her hips again, defying the firm grip he had on her to keep her still.

He felt his control falter for a moment, but his fingers dug into her hips, his expression hardening.

"Stop that." His voice was low, but there was a weight to it that he hoped would be enough to restrain her.

She, however, only leaned in further, bringing their faces impossibly close.

"But something is holding you back."

"You just woke up from a seven-day coma, and I am not a pervert." Silco's voice was rough, almost a growl, as he kept his gaze locked onto hers. It was as if he were explaining something obvious, something unquestionable, yet to her, it sounded like the most absurd thing in the world. "Of course I stayed away. Sex isn't appropriate in your condition."

He tried to maintain his composure, his usual coldness, but the way she arched a defiant brow and the provocative look she shot him were testing the limits of his patience.

"Oh, believe me, Silco, my condition couldn't be better." she replied, her lips curling into that mischievous smile that always unsettled him. That smile that seemed to promise chaos and absolute control over him. "Better than yours, I'd say... old man."

"Careful, dove."

"Or what?" Her response was swift. "Are you going to punish me? I doubt you have it in you."

The implicit challenge in her words was enough to shatter the last remnants of Silco's restraint. He surged forward, his movements precise and almost violent, flipping their positions in an instant. Now, he was the one above her, his hands firmly pinning her wrists against the mattress. The weight of his body held her down, and he stared down at her with an intensity that felt almost predatory.

Silco could have said he had won this battle. He could have declared victory with her trapped beneath his control. But her smile—that damned smile—only widened. It was the kind of expression that made Silco feel that instead of conquering her, he had walked straight into the perfect trap she had set for him.

The sight of her there, lying beneath him on his bed, hair fanned out against the pillow, lips still curved in provocation, tested the very limits of his self-control. She knew exactly what she was doing, and every inch of her seemed designed to challenge his restraint.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Silco murmured, his voice low and tense, his mismatched eyes locked onto hers, analyzing every detail of her expression.

"Maybe." she tilted her chin up slightly, her posture relaxed despite her disadvantage. "But it looks like you wanted it too."

Silco felt the weight of her words like a knife slicing through his control. The tone, the intensity of her gaze, the vulnerability disguised as provocation — everything about her disarmed him in ways he couldn't explain, and it infuriated him. When she shifted her wrists, he let them go. Her hands rose immediately, traitorous and soft, brushing against his face with a gentleness that almost felt like an insult to the position he had just claimed. She wasn't resisting, wasn't fighting back, yet the way she looked at him... it was as if she were the predator, and he the prey.

"I'm alive, you know?" her voice was a whisper, but there was something deeper beneath it, something Silco caught onto instantly. Before he could react, she pulled his face down, pressing him against her chest. Her strong heartbeat echoed against his ear, a pulsing reminder of the life still running through that stubborn, untamed body. "So make me feel it."

Silco lifted his face to look at her again. The glint in her eyes held him captive, making it impossible to look away. She wasn't just asking—she was pleading in a way that blended desperation and desire in equal measure.

"Give me a reason to stay alive."

Her words echoed in his mind as he remained still for a moment. He wasn't a man who responded to pleas, especially not ones so openly emotional. But something about her... something about this moment made her request sound more like a command he couldn't refuse.

Then, Silco moved — slowly, as if each action were calculated to carve this moment into her memory. He rose above her, his silhouette outlined by the soft light filtering through the window, casting shadows and illuminating the sharp contours of his scarred face and lean frame. His fingers found the waistband of her shorts, slipping beneath with a precision only he possessed. The fabric yielded easily to his touch, discarded along with her panties, as if nothing else mattered in that moment.

If she wanted a reason, he would give her one.

Silco gazed down at her half naked form sprawled out beneath him on the bed, her creamy skin flushed. He ran his calloused hands slowly up her calves, relishing the smoothness of her flesh, so different from the rough, scarred skin of his own body.

Silco's eyes flared with lust as he pushed her thighs further apart, exposing her most intimate area to his hungry gaze. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her slick folds as he inhaled deeply, savoring her intoxicating aroma. Silco's thumb found her sensitive clit and he rubbed it in slow circles, feeling it swell and throb beneath his touch.

He trailed provocative kisses along the inside of her thigh, his lips and tongue leaving a damp, tingling path in their wake. Silco paused as he reached the apex of her thighs, his breath mingling with the heat radiating from her core. He looked up at she, his mismatched eyes burning into hers, before he leaned in and ran his tongue along her slit in one long, slow lick.

Silco took his time, his tongue dragging slowly along her slit, savoring every inch of her most intimate flesh. He seemed determined to map out every contour, every secret hollow and ridge, committing it to memory. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her open, keeping her exposed to his hungry gaze and questing mouth.

Silco avoided her clit, the sensitive bundle of nerves that begged for his touch. He knew how much she craved it, how desperate she was for that push over the edge. But he denied her, teasing her mercilessly, his tongue flicking and fluttering along her lower lips, circling her entrance, dipping inside only to retreat before she could hope for more.

He could feel her trembling beneath him, could hear the needy little whimpers and moans that spilled from her lips. Silco hummed, a low, appreciative sound that vibrated through her core. Every now and then, he'd pull back, his lips brushing against her clit, close enough to feel the heat radiating from it, before moving away to continue his torturous path. He could feel her hips rocking, could sense her growing desperation as she chased his touch, his mouth, his tongue.

He could have been rough, maybe that was what she expected from him, could have devoured her with a hunger born of pent-up frustration and anger. But he held back, his gentle touch belying the dark promise in his eyes. He was being careful, so very careful, with his delicate dove. After all, she deserved some relief after everything she had been through.

Silco felt her fingers threading through his hair, but her touch was gentle, almost tentative. Not the desperate, frantic grip he might have expected from her. He glanced up at her, his gaze colliding with hers as he remained nestled between her thighs, his breath hot against her slick flesh.

He could see the frustration etched into every line of her face, the way her brows were furrowed and her lips were pressed into a thin, tight line. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, her chest heaving with each ragged breath she took. She looked like a woman teetering on the edge, a hair's breadth away from shattering completely.

And yet, despite her obvious need, her pleading eyes and quivering body, Silco held back. He couldn't bring himself to give her what she wanted, not yet. Not until he'd pushed her to the very brink, until she was begging him for mercy, for release.

He nuzzled into her mound, his lips brushing against her sensitive flesh as he spoke, his voice a low, husky murmur. "What is it, dove?" he asked, a wicked gleam in his eye. "What do you need?" he punctuated the words with a slow, deliberate lick along her clit.

"You know exactly what I want." her voice trailed off as she broke eye contact by throwing her head back with a long sigh. The gentle tug on his hair became a demand as she whispered, her voice strained and ragged with need. "Stop teasing me."

Her words trailed off into a desperate whimper as Silco's tongue flicked out to tease her once more, circling her clit again before retreating. The maddening rhythm of his licks and nips was driving her to the brink of insanity, the pleasure bordering on pain.

"Damn you, Silco." she growled, her voice a mix of anger and desperation. "Stop playing with me and just... just fuck me already."

"Shh, dove." he murmured, his words vibrating against her sensitive flesh. "Patience is a virtue. Surely a clever girl like you knows that sometimes, the anticipation is half the pleasure?"

Silco could see the desperation reaching a fever pitch in her eyes, the way her body squirmed and writhed beneath him, seeking more of his touch, more of the pleasure he was so cruelly withholding from her. With a wicked, knowing smirk, he decided it was time to turn his attention to her aching, throbbing clit.

He leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue along the sensitive bundle of nerves, feeling it pulse and quiver against his lips. He lapped at her slowly, his tongue swirling and circling, teasing her mercilessly. He could feel her thighs begin to tremble, her fingers tightening in his hair as he worked her closer and closer to the edge.

He suckled her clit gently, his lips sealing around the sensitive flesh as he flicked his tongue back and forth, back and forth, driving her to new heights of ecstasy. He could feel her hips rocking against his face, her body arching as she chased her release.

Just as he felt her start to stiffen, her muscles tensing and her back arching off the bed, Silco pulled away. He wrenched his mouth from her sex, his hands leaving her thighs to grip her hips and hold her down as she bucked and writhed beneath him. He could feel the frustration radiating off her in waves, could see the betrayal and anger flashing in her eyes as she glared down at him.

Panting, Silco looked up at her, his lips glistening with her arousal, a wicked smirk playing on his mouth. "Ah ah ah, not yet." he chided, his voice a low, teasing murmur. "You don't get to come that easily. Not until I say you can." he punctuated the words with a sharp nip to her inner thigh, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh just hard enough to make her yelp.

Silco sat back on the bed, his eyes roaming hungrily over her body, taking in every dip and curve, every inch of soft, inviting skin. He let her legs fall open around his waist, keeping her exposed and open to his gaze, his touch, his every whim. His hands slid up her thighs, his fingers splaying over the smooth expanse of skin, feeling the heat radiating from within.

Slowly, almost lazily, Silco began to remove his vest. He shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor beside the bed. Next, he loosened his tie, the black silk slipping through his fingers like liquid. He tugged it free, tossing it carelessly onto the growing pile of clothing. As he worked on the buttons of his shirt, Silco glanced up to find she staring at him, her gaze almost tangible in its intensity. He paused, his fingers stilling on the button he'd just started to undo, suddenly self-conscious in a way he rarely was. It wasn't often that Silco felt apprehensive about anything, let alone the way he looked. He knew he wasn't that hideous to look at, his younger self attracted attention and certainly the current self did the same thing, but in a somewhat rugged and dangerous way. But there was something about the way she was looking at him now that made him wonder, made him question whether she would find the sight of his half-naked form pleasing to the eye.

"You're staring, dove."

Silco watched intently as she sat up, his eyes never leaving her face, gauging her every reaction. He remained still as she reached out, her delicate fingers starting to unbutton his shirt with a patience that surprised him. He couldn't remember the last time someone had taken such care, such reverence in undressing him.

He braced himself for her reaction, for the revulsion or pity he knew would surely follow when he saw the scars he had acquired over the years. But as the last button slipped free, he saw no disgust in her eyes. Only a fierce, almost hungry intensity that made his blood run hot. He felt her hands on his bare torso, her fingers tracing the lines of his scars, the ridges of muscle and bone. She explored him with a touch that was almost reverent, as if she were committing every inch of him to memory.

He said nothing, watching her through hooded eyes as she helped him shrug out of his shirt, the fabric slipping down his arms to pool on the bed behind him. Somehow, that action felt more intimate than what they were about to do. A kind of intimacy that surpassed even sex.

Silco pulled her towards him, his hands gripping her waist as he tugged her against his bare chest. He captured her lips in a searing kiss, his mouth slanting over hers with a hunger that stole her breath. He kissed her like a man starved, like he wanted to devour her whole, to consume every last inch of her until there was nothing left.

At the same time, he pushed her back down onto the bed, his body covering hers, pinning her beneath him. He could feel her softening, yielding to him, her curves molding to the hard planes of his body. His hand slid down her side, over the dip of her waist, the flare of her hip, until it reached the waistband of his trousers.

With a deft, almost lazy movement, Silco undid his pants, the zipper parting with a soft hiss in the charged silence of the room. He didn't break the kiss, his mouth still moving over her, his tongue still stroking and teasing and tasting her. But he could feel her anticipation, could sense the way her body tensed and tightened waiting for him.

Slowly, almost torturously so, Silco slid his hand inside his pants, his fingers wrapping around his hard, aching length. He could feel the heat of it, the way it throbbed and pulsed in his grip, the way it leaked and wept with the need to be inside her. With a low, guttural groan, he slowly, inch by inch, entered her.

He could feel her tightness, her wetness, the way her walls clenched and fluttered around him as he pushed deeper and deeper inside her. It was a slow, sensual slide, a deliberate, purposeful claiming of her body, but it felt different from the other times. It felt more meaningful, more... visceral.

Silco could feel every inch of her, could savor every second of their joining, could revel in the way she took him in, welcomed him, needed him.

He swallowed her gasp with his mouth, his tongue muffling the sound, his lips curling into a smirk of pure male satisfaction. He could feel her trembling beneath him, could sense the way her body strained towards his, seeking more, needing more. And he gave it to her, his hips rolling forward, his length driving deep, claiming her, possessing her, making her his in every way that mattered.

Silco broke the kiss, his lips trailing along her jaw, her neck, until he reached the sensitive skin of her shoulder. He nuzzled into the crook of her neck, his breath hot and heavy against her flesh as he rested his forehead against her shoulder. His hips continued their slow rhythm, his length sliding in and out of her slick heat, each thrust pushing him deeper, each retreat leaving him teetering on the brink of withdrawal before he plunged back in.

He could feel her nails raking down his back, her fingers curling into his skin, her grip tightening with each thrust. The sharp sting of her nails scoring his flesh only spurred him on, made him drive into her harder, faster, with a fervor that bordered on punishing. He could hear her moans, feel them vibrating through her chest, could sense the way her body strained and arched beneath him, demanding more.

Silco's hand slid up her side, his fingers skimming over the curve of her breast, the swell of her hip. He gripped her chin, turning her face towards him, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. He could see the pleasure etched into every line of her face, the way her eyes were glazed and unfocused, the way her lips were parted and trembling with each ragged breath she took.

Silco held her gaze, those eyes so alive, so human, so hers. A big difference from that soulless white during the incident in Singed's lab.

His hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, gripping it, holding her in place. He wanted to drink in the sight of her, to memorize every flicker of emotion that crossed her face, every gasp and moan that fell from her lips. He wanted to burn this moment into his mind, to keep it with him forever, a reminder of the power he held over her, the way he could make her feel, the way he could bring her to life with his touch.

Silco felt her body stiffen beneath him, her back arching off the bed, her nails digging into his shoulders, her eyes squeezing shut as a silent scream tore from her throat. He could feel her coming undone, her walls clenching and fluttering around his length, her body shaking and trembling with the force of her climax. It was a beautiful, breathtaking sight, one that made his heart pound and his blood sing with primal satisfaction.

Silco let himself go, his hips slamming forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside her spasming heat. His release crashed over him like a tidal wave, his seed erupting from him in thick, hot ropes, painting her walls white with his essence. He crushed his mouth to hers, swallowing her cries, drinking in her ecstasy as if it were a fine wine. His hand gripped her hair tighter, his other arm wrapping around her waist, holding her flush against him, keeping her pinned and trapped and utterly his as he rode out the aftershocks of his climax.

Finally, with a shuddering breath, Silco rolled to the side, staring at the ceiling as he caught his breath. However, a sound caught his attention. He turned to face her, one brow arched as he took in her amused expression as she laughed, the way her eyes danced with mischief and satisfaction.

"And you didn't want my help." her voice came out teasing, breathless from both the sex and the laughter.

"How curious you should say that." he murmured, his voice a low, teasing drawl. "Because I remember you begging me to fuck you."

She turned her face to him, strands of sweat-dampened hair clinging stubbornly to her flushed cheeks, framing her expression in a way that struck Silco as unintentionally disarming. Her gaze was soft, a vulnerability peeking through the defiance that usually colored her every word and action. It was the kind of look that unsettled him—not because it posed a threat, but because it invited a reaction he wasn't accustomed to navigating.

That softness in her eyes... Silco wasn't sure how to interpret it. It felt like standing on the edge of a precipice, unsure if the drop would shatter him or leave him standing on solid ground.

"Touché." she murmured, her voice low, yet filled with an unspoken acceptance of her defeat.

Somehow, he felt like he had also lost some internal battle. One he hadn't realized he had started. And he hated it.

"Touché indeed, dove."

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

[...]

That laboratory exuded the same dark essence as the Institute, though it carried an even dirtier, more decayed air. The peeling walls seemed to whisper forgotten secrets, while the acrid smell of chemicals mingled with something deeper and more visceral: the pungent aroma of death and despair. It was a suffocating atmosphere that made your skin crawl and your stomach churn. There was something there that went beyond simple physical discomfort; it was as if every molecule of that place was infused with suffering and fear, leaving behind an almost primal urgency to destroy everything around you.

Your senses screamed at you to act, to eliminate the evil that permeated that room. A malevolence that was now embodied in the figure of the scientist in front of you, hunched over you, meticulous in his task. He pierced the needle into your skin with the precision of someone who had repeated the same procedure countless times, without emotion, without hesitation. The dark red liquid filled the collection tubes as you felt an unpleasant tingling creep up your arm.

You knew he had done something. You might not know what, but your instincts told you as much. Something was wrong, and he was the culprit.

Your gaze fixed on him like a blade ready to pierce. You watched him like a predator locking onto its prey, feeling a silent rage grow in your chest, radiating to your limbs. It was irrational, yet it made perfect sense: you wanted to kill him. Not for what he was doing now, but for what he had already done, for what he represented. It was as if he personified everything wrong with that place, as if his death would be one step closer to purification.

The scientist, however, seemed immune to the weight of your gaze. He didn't avert his eyes from his work, focused on filling the tubes with your blood as if it were just another routine task. Perhaps he was used to hateful looks. Perhaps he simply didn't care.

"For analysis." he murmured finally, labeling the tubes with cold efficiency. His voice was monotone, as if he spoke only because it was necessary, with no intention of engaging beyond the bare minimum. It was almost as if you were an object, a tool for experimentation, not a person.

Sevika was there, of course, a solid and inevitable presence in the corner of the room. She was a shadow, but not the kind that went unnoticed; her imposing figure and disinterested, almost bored expression conveyed an unshakable vigilance. Even when she seemed not to be paying attention, you knew she was registering everything around her.

Outside, there were more men, but they weren't there to protect you — after all, if there was any danger in that room, that danger was you. They were there to ensure you didn't escape again, that there wouldn't be another kidnapping attempt or any other incident.

The increase in security measures was undeniable. The night shifts had more men now, and the furtive, monitoring glances had been replaced with blatant surveillance. No one pretended not to be watching your every step, taking note of every move. Your privileges had been revoked by Silco for an indefinite period. In short, your freedom was suspended. No more open doors or unescorted movements.

But what stood out to you the most, what truly made the changes scream at your senses, was the way Silco's men now looked at you. They tried to disguise it, of course. Tried to act like everything was normal, but you saw the apprehension in their eyes, the way their hands stayed closer to their weapons when you walked by. It was subtle, but for someone like you, it was impossible not to notice.

They were afraid of you.

It wasn't the same fear they felt for Silco — his was deeper, rooted in respect and terror for his authority. The fear they had of you was different. It was more immediate, more instinctive. They looked at you as if they expected you to lose control at any moment, as if it was inevitable that you would explode. A caged animal about to strike.

You didn't need to be reminded of the reason. The warehouse. You knew that. No one would ever speak of that night again — Silco made sure of it — but that didn't mean it would be forgotten so easily. It was strange, feeling that fear so tangibly. It was something you used to associate with Silco, with the way he entered a room and made everyone freeze. Now, you were doing the same. And you couldn't decide if it bothered you... or satisfied you.

That is, everyone was afraid — except Sevika.

Sevika looked more irritated than usual, and the reason was obvious: being assigned as your personal guard couldn't have been the most stimulating task for Silco's right hand. She made no effort to hide her displeasure, which only made the dynamic between you even more uncomfortable. The weight of her gaze—half judgmental, half exasperated—was almost tangible, as if you were an unwanted burden, something she had to tolerate simply because it was a direct order from Silco.

You knew what she thought: that this was a waste of time, that Silco could have assigned anyone else to "watch over his whore." It was an expression you had overheard once, spoken in a moment of fury, though never directed at you. Despite the harshness, you understood, even if you hated to admit it.

When Singed finally finished extracting your blood, he applied a bandage to your arm with the same lack of delicacy as always. The gesture was mechanical, as if you were just another piece in his endless experiments. Without another word, he turned away, his hand gesturing toward the door with a clarity that needed no explanation.

You didn't need to think twice. Every part of you longed to get out of that place. Sevika was already waiting outside, casually leaning against the wall as if she were part of the surroundings. Before you could say anything, she stepped forward and, with a brusque motion, threw a coat over your shoulders. The sudden touch made you startle, more out of instinct than anything else.

"What was that?" you asked, lifting the fabric as if you didn't understand the need for it.

Sevika, without even looking at you, shrugged and turned to walk down the narrow hallway.

"It's cold outside." that was all she said, her tone dry, sharp, leaving no room for argument.

You rolled your eyes, sighing as you followed her. Her strides were long, forcing you to pick up your pace just to keep up. It was irritating how even that seemed intentional, as if she wanted to constantly remind you that she was in control of the situation. Then again, you never really seemed to be in control of anything ever since you had come back under Silco's wing.

"Is this really necessary?" you asked, motioning to the bandage on your arm as you quickened your steps. "It's been three weeks, and I'm perfectly fine. I don't see why I still have to come back to this damn place."

"Silco's orders."

Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. There was something undeniably final in her tone, something that made it clear she wasn't willing to discuss the matter any further. Her face, as hardened as the steel that made up her mechanical arm, only reinforced that impression.

"Take it up with him, not me."

You took a deep breath, trying to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you actually like playing bodyguard." you shot back, crossing your arms. Your voice carried a hint of provocation, but there was also genuine exhaustion in it. "I know you hate this job just as much as I do."

Sevika didn't respond. Her silence was almost as irritating as the idea of being escorted by her. You bit the inside of your cheek, searching for a new angle.

"Well... not that I mind the company." a mischievous smile danced on your lips as you spoke. "I remember you used to enjoy mine quite a bit."

That did it. Sevika halted in the middle of the street, her body coiled like a spring about to snap. When she turned to face you, her eyes burned with an intensity that made the air around her feel heavier. She stepped toward you, her firm footsteps echoing against the pavement, closing the distance until you had to tilt your head back to meet her gaze.

Oh. She looked like she was about to strangle you.

"Don't ever bring that up again."

You tilted your head slightly to the side, feigning innocence.

"Why not? Don't tell me you never told Silco about us."

For a split second, something flickered across her expression—something almost imperceptible in her eyes. Maybe irritation, maybe discomfort. Whatever it was, it bothered her, and that only fueled your desire to keep pushing.

"There is no 'us'!"

You let out a dramatic sigh, forcing your voice to sound wounded. "Ouch. That hurts, Sevika... I thought I meant something to you."

She scoffed, the sound almost as rough as the laughter you remembered hearing from her months ago in a very different context. And yet, you caught it—a fleeting glimmer in her eyes, a trace of amusement she was clearly trying to suppress.

"You're still the same damn brat, it seems."

You smiled. Not just any smile, but the one you knew she'd understand—the one that told her you knew exactly how to get a reaction out of her. "Just the way you liked..."

Sevika shook her head, lips pressing into a thin line, but you could've sworn you saw the corner of her mouth twitch upward, just for a second.

"Oh, what a coincidence."

The male voice cut through your thoughts, making you turn your head toward the speaker. It was easy to recognize the figure in front of you: the faded yellow coat, the metallic prosthetic gleaming under the flickering streetlights. And, of course, that cynical smile—just as much a part of him as his tattoos. Finn.

He wasn't alone. Just like you, he was surrounded. His men were strategically placed around the area, each one gripping a weapon, their presence carrying a silent threat that hung in the air like the metallic scent of blood.

"I didn't expect Silco to let you out so soon, considering... what happened." his voice carried a tone of feigned surprise, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed him—he already knew.

Of course he knew. It was naïve to think the barons wouldn't have heard about your kidnapping. Information traveled fast in Zaun, especially when it involved someone like you, someone directly tied to Silco.

Finn took a few more steps toward you, moving with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where he stood. You felt Sevika right behind you, a wall of protection, her presence as solid as a shadow. Though she hadn't moved or spoken, you could feel the tension radiating from her, like she was just waiting for the slightest excuse to draw her weapon.

"But I'm glad to see you safe and sound." Finn continued, his grin stretching into something almost cruel. "Silco would've been unbearable if anything happened to his little pet."

The condescending tone in his voice made your stomach churn. The way Finn uttered that word—pet—made something inside you recoil. His tone was meticulously chosen to humiliate, to reduce you to something insignificant, a plaything under Silco's rule. Your fingers twitched instinctively, but you held back the urge to respond in kind.

Finn noticed your reaction, of course, and seemed to revel in it. He tilted his head slightly, as if he wanted to appear helpful, though the malicious glint in his eyes said otherwise.

"Anyway, our people need to look out for their own." He shrugged, a casual gesture that felt rehearsed. "So, if you ever need someone to... disappear, if you catch my meaning, or maybe just a friendly shoulder to lean on—" He paused, letting the offer hang in the air for a moment. "Stop by Slickjaws. I'd be honored to have you."

"I'll consider it." you replied, keeping your voice smooth, almost polite, even as bile rose in your throat.

Finn lifted a hand in a gesture you recognized immediately, though it still made your skin crawl. Out of politeness—or mere formality—you offered your own, already regretting it the moment your fingers met his. The press of his lips, or more precisely, the cold metal of his prosthetic, against the back of your hand was light, yet it lasted a beat too long. His eyes never left yours throughout the gesture.

There was something calculated about it, a kind of manufactured intimacy that felt entirely unnecessary. As if every movement of his was designed to feign gentleness, a deliberate attempt to invade a space you had no intention of surrendering.

"You remain quite the vision, my dear." he murmured, his voice as syrupy as poisoned honey. When Finn finally released your hand, it took all of your willpower not to wipe it immediately against your clothes—something he would undoubtedly notice. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to."

You watched as he walked away, your gaze locked onto his back, assessing, calculating. Beside you, Sevika had already pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, but her eyes were also fixed on Finn, her expression as severe as yours.

"How much longer is that guy gonna keep breathing?"

"As long as Silco thinks he's useful." Sevika replied, her voice as dry as the undercity air around you. Without even looking at you, she started moving again, signaling that it was time to move on.

But something in you wasn't ready to let the subject die there.

"Didn't that seem a little too suspicious to you?"

Sevika let out a low grunt from her throat, a sound that could've been impatience just as easily as indifference. Without breaking her stride, she shoved her pack of cigarettes in your direction—a gesture so automatic it seemed like she hadn't even realized she'd done it.

"He just barks. He doesn't bite."

You reached out without hesitation, pulling two cigarettes from the pack. In one smooth motion, you retrieved your own lighter from your pocket, the cold weight of the metal between your fingers stirring an odd sense of nostalgia for the situation. You lit Sevika's cigarette first, holding it between your fingers with the same casual ease as always. When the tip glowed red, you passed it back to her before lighting your own.

"Maybe." you murmured, exhaling the first puff and letting the smoke curl lazily between you. "But his barking might attract bigger dogs."

Sevika exhaled through her nose, the smoke spilling out like a deliberately restrained dragon. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she turned to look at you, weighing your words as if trying to decide whether this was a valid warning or just another one of your attempts to get under her skin.

"I'll inform Silco."

[...]

You were on your way to Silco's office, begrudgingly following Sevika's orders. She had shoved you toward the stairs, and the glance she threw over her shoulder before turning back to deal with some unlucky bastard made it clear—she would rather be anywhere else than dealing with more problems.

That brief pause, however, gave you something rare: a few seconds of "freedom." Too bad it didn't last long.

Because something came flying straight at you.

Your peripheral vision caught it too late, and before you could react, it hit your head—hard. The impact was unexpected, knocking you back as a throbbing pain pulsed at the point of contact. It wasn't enough to send you to the ground, but it did throw you off balance.

You braced yourself against the nearby wall, fingers pressing against your forehead as the pain radiated outward. When you finally looked down, you saw the culprit—a small metallic monkey, twitching like an out-of-control puppet. Its cymbals clashed together in a frantic rhythm.

"Don't be so dramatic! I barely threw it."

The voice rang out, high-pitched and mischievous, like it was laughing directly at you. The sound echoed down the corridor, and for a moment, you looked around, trying to pinpoint the source. It was a feminine voice, familiar, brimming with an almost contagious energy.

Your attention, however, didn't stay on the voice for long—because the monkey quickly pulled it back. Its movements grew even more erratic, until a puff of blue smoke escaped from the tiny automaton. And then, almost comically, its head popped off, ricocheting off the walls like a pinball before disappearing into a dark corner of the hallway.

"What the f—"

"By the way, you should see the face you're making right now!" the voice continued between giggles. "Priceless!"

The sound of footsteps behind you broke the corridor's silence. Light, almost imperceptible steps—but you heard them. The owner of the voice. The owner of the damned flying monkey.

As you turned, the air left your lungs, as if someone had just knocked the wind out of you.

Standing before you was a little girl with bright blue braids.

Part 12

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I think a lot of people might have expected something rougher from Silco, considering the slightly dominant touch I gave him. But I’m an idiot for symbolism: see, if you pay attention, every time they had a more intimate moment, Silco was always dressed. And this is the first time he undresses—both in the literal and... not-so-literal sense. Sooooo, you get what I’m saying, right? Also, special appearances by Sevika, Finn, and Singed! And who could that person at the end be?? I have no idea…. 🤭

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[insidekatmind]

Distraction-Brock Rumlow

Your breathing is calm, but your heart beats a little faster than usual. You're used to these missions, living on the edge, but there's something about this situation that feels off. Maybe it's the plan. Or maybe it's the fact that Steve asked you to distract Brock Rumlow, the most unsettling agent you've ever met.

"Y/N, I need you to cover for me. I have to talk to Pierce, and we can't afford for Rumlow to get in the way. You're the only one who can pull this off," Steve said to you, his tone serious but his gaze full of trust.

"Do you have any idea how obsessed he is with me?" you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Exactly why I asked for your help. I need time, and you're the only one who can keep him busy," he replied, a faintly apologetic smile on his lips.

You sighed, knowing you couldn't say no. Steve is your best friend, and you trust him more than anyone else.

Now, here you are, in the hallway of the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, and Brock Rumlow is standing in front of you. He's staring at you with that look that always makes you want to roll your eyes.

"Rumlow," you say with a forced smile, "can I talk to you in private?"

He raises an eyebrow, but a smug grin quickly spreads across his face. "Sure, Y/N. Where do you want to go?"

"Your office. It's important." Your voice is steady, but your stomach churns at the thought of what you're about to do.

He leads you to his office, closing the door behind him. You sit in the chair across from his desk, trying to appear relaxed, but you know you need to keep him occupied for as long as possible.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" he asks, leaning forward with a smile that makes you want to punch him.

You improvise. "I was thinking... have you ever considered stepping out of your comfort zone? You know, doing something different with your life?"

He chuckles, a low, amused sound. "And what do you have in mind, Y/N?"

"Well," you begin, careful not to let your nerves show, "you're always so... intense. Maybe you should try relaxing, having some fun. You know, not everything has to be about work and missions."

Rumlow looks at you, visibly intrigued. "Interesting. And how do you think I should do that?"

You drag the conversation out as long as possible, talking about improbable hobbies, movies he's never seen, and even suggesting a yoga class, all while your mind stays focused on Steve. How much more time does he need?

Meanwhile, Rumlow seems to be enjoying himself. It's obvious he's too distracted by you to worry about anything else happening elsewhere.

While you continue babbling, Rumlow approaches you like a predator and caresses your cheek, smiling at you. You go abruptly silent when you feel his touch on your cheek. His hand is warm and surprisingly gentle, but his gaze is as intense as ever. "You know," he says, his voice low and playful, "you're quite entertaining when you're not arguing with me." He moves closer to you, his body only inches from yours.

You look at Brock in surprise. "Oh, really?" You whisper, hoping Steve would finish quickly. He grins, seemingly amused by your reaction. His gaze travels from your eyes down to your lips, and then back up.

"Oh, yes." He responds, lifting your chin gently. "You get all flustered, trying to prove a point, and your cheeks flush." His fingers trace your jawline, his touch feather-like. You're hyper-aware of his proximity, and you remind yourself to stay calm, to keep stalling.

"It's kind of adorable," he continues, his voice a soft rumble. "And you have my undivided attention, darling." He leans in even closer, his face just a breath away from yours. His smile is still present, but there's something different in his eyes:a hunger, a desire. Your heart quickens, and you remind yourself once more that you're doing this for Steve. Keep him busy just a little longer.

Smile. “Does the great Brock find me adorable?” you ask getting flirty, you were trying to give Steve as much time as possible. He chuckles, clearly enjoying your change of tone. "Adorable and infuriatingly cheeky," he replies, a hint of amusement in his smirk.

He's so close now, his body almost touching yours. His hand is still on your chin, his thumb brushing lightly against your jawline. "You've got quite the mouth on you," he adds, "and right now, I'm rather curious about what other uses you might have for it."

You held back so hard not to slap him and you fake a smile by biting your lip. His gaze darkens as he notices your lip between your teeth, and he moves even closer, his body pressing against yours. "Careful, darling," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "You keep biting your lip like that, and I might get a few ideas of my own." His eyes roam your face, taking in every detail, and you can't help but fidget under his intense scrutiny.

His lips hover just above yours, so close that you can feel his hot breath on your skin. "You're so tense," he observes, his body almost trapping you against the chair. "What's the matter, Y/N? Is something bothering you?" His hand slides down from your jaw to your throat, his touch both tender and possessive at the same time.

You gulp involuntarily, the feel of his hand on your throat making your heart pound faster. "No, I'm fine," you manage to say, your voice not nearly as steady as you'd like. He raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Are you sure?" he purrs, his thumb tracing a slow, lazy circle on your pulse point. "Because you're shaking."

His words send a shiver through you, and he must feel the effect they have on you, because his grip on your neck tightens ever so slightly. "And you're breathing pretty hard," he points out, his gaze locked onto yours. He presses his body against yours, his other hand gripping the armrest of the chair, effectively trapping you in his embrace.

His face is just inches from yours, his eyes a deep, dark pool of hunger. "You're usually so feisty, so strong," he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper. "But right now, you're at my mercy, all flustered and trembling." His hand at your throat moves up to cup your chin again, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "I could do anything I want with you like this, darling."

You stopped yourself from slapping again and smiled at him placing your hands on his shoulders moving them sensually. "And do you mind this?" you whisper seductively. His expression darkens with raw lust, and he grips your thigh with his free hand. "No, I don't mind this at all." His voice is low and dangerous, his gaze still locked on yours.

His body is pressed against you, his touch possessive and demanding. "In fact," he continues, pulling your leg up against him, "I like seeing you like this. All hot and bothered, trembling at my touch."

You caress his neck to distract yourself from laughing at his statement. Steve owed you a big favor, you thought. He lets out a low, rumbling sound at your touch, clearly enjoying the sensation. "That feels nice," he murmured, his eyes half-lidded.

He presses you even closer, his body molding against yours. "You know," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, "I think I could get addicted to this." Brock slowly runs his fingers over your bare thigh, his touch light and teasing.

"Your skin feels so soft," he continues, his voice growing huskier. "So smooth and inviting." His hand inches higher, moving under your skirt, and his hips grind against yours. "I've been wanting to touch you for so long," he admits, his hand gripping your waist. "Feeling you shiver under my touch, seeing you all flushed and panting."

His lips find their way to your neck, his tongue flicking out to taste your pulse point. "You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, his teeth grazing your skin. "No idea how badly I want to claim you." His hand beneath your skirt moves even higher, his touch burning through you. "I want to mark you, taste you, make you mine."

Close your eyes try to calm your heartbeat with little results. You hated to admit it but his words were turning you on. He chuckles, noticing your reaction. "Can't keep your cool, can you?" he teases, his hand now dangerously close to your center.

"You can't hide it, darling," he murmurs against your skin. "I can feel it, the way your heart is racing, the way you're reacting to my touch." He moves his lips to your ear, his voice a low rumble. "You like this, don't you? The feel of my hands on your body, the sound of my voice. You like being at my mercy." "But you won't give in," he continues, shifting so that his body is now fully flushed against yours. "You won't give me the satisfaction of admitting it, will you?" He nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing your skin.

"But I know you want me." He whispers, his hand continuing its slow exploration. "You can try to deny it all you want, but I know you're just begging for it right now." He moves his lips down your neck, nipping and biting at your skin, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. "You're so stubborn, darling," he says, his voice a rough purr. "So determined to resist."

Brock shifts his body, positioning himself between your legs. "But it won't be long now. You're trembling, panting, and I can feel the heat coming off of you." He grips your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, and he presses his body against yours, leaving no room for escape. "Just let go, darling," he whispers, his voice a low, sensual command. "Let me take you over the edge. Give yourself to me."

You gasp softly looking at him. His gaze captures yours, dark and possessive, and he smiles a slow, knowing smile. "There it is," he murmurs. "That gasp. That look in your eyes. That's what I wanted to see." He leans in, his face mere inches from yours. "Admit it, darling. You want me just as badly as I want you." He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and almost tender. "You can fight it all you want," he continues, his voice a low rumble. "But at the end of the day, you're mine."

His hips grind against yours, his arousal pressing against you. "And I'm going to make you mine, darling. I'm going to make you beg for it." He's practically pinning you to the chair, his body pressed against yours, his hands everywhere. "I'm going to show you pleasure you've never even imagined before," he promises, his voice rough and sensual. "I'm going to make you scream my name, darling."

“Brock” you try to stop him but your tone wasn’t very confident, your mind was foggy. He growls, the sound low and possessive. "Say it again," he demands, his body pressing even harder against you. "Say my name again, darling."

You shiver at his command, your body responding to his touch in ways you can't control. "Brock," you repeat, your voice a hoarse whisper. He grins, clearly pleased with your response. "That's right," he says, his lips on your neck again. "I want to hear you say it, darling. I want to hear you begging for me."

He begins to kiss and nibble at your neck, leaving hot, wet trails on your skin. "No more fighting, no more resisting," he murmurs, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "Just give in, darling. Give in to me." You give in, moaning softly as you cling to him.

He growls again, the sound even more primal and possessive than before. "That's it, darling," he says, his hands roaming your body. "I want to hear those beautiful sounds coming from your lips." Brock lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you over to the nearby couch and laying you down on it, his body covering yours. "You're mine now," he whispers, gazing down at you hungrily. "All mine."

[sai-int]

Is it too much to ask for a dd/lg headcannon or Drabble with the 141 boys? Maybe even including others like graves, konig, Keegan, Alejandro and Rudy?

(Can I be 🍇 anon?)

never too much! you're actually the first person to claim an emoji! I hope this is okay doll ♡

cw : 18+ MDNI , dd/lg dynamics , this is so long, im sorry price, simon, johnny, kyle, könig, keegan, alejandro, rudy, graves

price – the definition of a firm but fair daddy. he’s got rules, and he expects you to follow them, but he’s not cruel about it. he’s patient, steady, always knows what you need—even when you don't. his presence alone is enough to make you feel safe, grounded. but he’s also stern when he needs to be.

"feet up, love. that's it. let me take care of you." he says, kneeling in front of you after a long day, pulling off your shoes and rubbing slow, firm circles into your sore arches. he takes care of you without hesitation, without asking. knows when you need a bath drawn, knows when you need to be pulled into his lap and held until your breathing evens out.

but if you brat? you’re bent over his lap, skirt flipped up, his hand smoothing over your skin before landing a sharp smack. "i warned you, didn’t I?" he’s got a low tolerance for brattiness but an endless amount of patience when it comes to taking care of you. calls you his girl, sweetheart, maybe even baby when he’s feeling soft. he’s got a warm, protective presence, safe but still in control. nothing gets past him. if you try to pout your way out of trouble, he just smirks, presses a kiss to your forehead, and hums a low, "nice try, love."

simon – quiet, intense, and possessive. he’s not big on pet names—mostly calls you love—but the way he looks at you? like he owns you, like he’d burn the world down for you? that’s where the power is.  he doesn’t have to say much, doesn’t need a long list of rules or punishments. all it takes is a look, the weight of his stare heavy enough to make you squirm. he doesn’t like bratting, doesn’t like games. when he tells you to do something, he expects you to listen.

"listen, come here, love." simple, direct. his voice is low, steady. when you hesitate, just for a moment, his head tilts. the mask makes it impossible to read his expression, but you know what’s coming.

"really gonna make me ask again, are you?"

and when you finally move, slipping between his legs, he rewards you with rare praise, making it feel that much better.

"that’s m'good girl."

johnny – playful, teasing, and so good with praise. he loves winding you up, watching you get all pouty just so he can break you down and build you back up again. his favorite thing in the world is turning your "no, I'd never" into "please, johnny, more."

"dinnae be shy, princess," he grins, leaning in, voice warm with amusement. "say it for me. tell me what y’need."

he’s big on physical affection, always touching, always holding, always making sure you feel how much he adores you. he’s the type to pick you up and spin you around just to hear you squeal, to kiss you breathless in the middle of the street just because he can.

his hands are always everywhere, his voice a steady stream of praise. "look at ye. so fuckin’ sweet for me. always are."

but when it’s time to be serious? he knows how to handle you. lets you push him just enough before he’s got you pinned against the nearest surface, smirking as he presses against your backside as you get shy, "thought you were a big girl, hm? what happened to all that attitude?"

or maybe you'll laugh, not taking him seriously, "think yer bein’ funny, aye?" his fingers trail up your thigh, the pads of them making dimples in your skin as he leans in. "let’s see how much ye'll be laughin' when a’m done wi' ye."

kyle – softer, more nurturing. he’s the type to tuck you into his side, stroke your hair, kiss your forehead and call you his sweet girl. loves taking care of you, making sure you feel safe and cherished. he’s the kind of daddy that knows exactly when to pull you into his lap and murmur, "what’s goin’ on, baby?" he doesn’t scold when you brat—he just guides, gently steering you back to where you need to be.

"i know, sweetheart. just need some attention, don’t you?" he coos, thumb tracing slow lines along your lower lip. "c’mere. let me take care of you, yeah?"

but he’s not a pushover. when you really push? he just sighs, shaking his head, the disappointment gets you the most.

"you know better than that, love. you wanna try again?"

könig – gentle but possessive. he knows how big he is, how easily he could overpower you at a moments notice, but that’s not what he wants. he cherishes you, treats you like something delicate, something precious. calls you mäuschen, liebling, mein süßes mädchen.

his hands are massive—capable of destruction, yet impossibly soft when they touch you. he holds you like you’re special, something his. he takes so much pride in you. his voice is low, rumbled with that thick austrian accent as he murmurs, "mein liebling, so brave… so sweet for me."

he adores caring for you. brushing your hair every night, wrapping you in his arms, tracing gentle patterns on your skin as he murmurs praises. but he watches you, reads you, because he knows when you’re acting out watches

"you are just testing my patience, mäuschen. do not disappoint me."

it’s not a threat, it’s a warning. his grip is firm, but never harsh, just a reminder of his strength. when you finally give in, whisper out a soft "i’m sorry, daddy" he's too weak to stay upset, immidiately praising you.

"awh, that’s my baby. knew you would come back to me." his lips press to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you tight. because you’re his, and he never lets what’s his go.

keegan – commanding but patient. he doesn’t say much, doesn’t need to. you and him communicate almost telepathically, always intune with eachother. when he looks at you, when he tilts his head just so, eyes sharp beneath that black face paint, it’s enough.

"pet." his voice is low, even, a quiet command. "come here."

you hesitate, just for a second, testing him, pushing. but all it takes is that subtle shift in his posture, that almost-imperceptible narrowing of his eyes, for you to realize exactly what you’ve done.

"you know better."

he doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t punish you outright. no—he waits, lets the silence stretch until you’re squirming. he wants you to break on your own, to realize that disobeying him was never going to end in your favor.

"be good for me." his hand finds your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. his touch is firm, his thumb grazing your bottom lip, watching the way you react.

and when you finally, finally submit? he smirks, barely there, nodding once as his thumb brushes over your cheek.

"that’s my girl."

alejandro – soooo teasing, full of warmth. calls you mi amor, bebita, princesa. he spoils you rotten, but he expects your obedience in return. loves watching you melt under his praise.

"mírate, baby" he murmurs, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. "tan hermosa cuando eres buena para mí." 

he lives to take care of you. always checking in, making sure you ate or what not. "estás bien, mi amor?" his hands smoothing over your back, pulling you into his chest. when you’ve had a long day, when you’re feeling small, he tucks you into his lap, cradles your face, murmurs soft praises in spanish, low and soothing in your ear.

"always so good, mi princesa."

rudy – soft but firm. calls you mi corazón , muñequita. he’s the kind of man who lets you brat, lets you think you’re getting away with it, all build letting it until he finally decides to correct you.

"are you done, muñeca?" voice calm, measured.

he doesn’t scold, doesn’t get angry. just waits. waits for you to realize that he’s not going to entertain your attitude. that he’s not going to play your game.

and when you calm down? he just smiles, welcoming you back to him with open arms. pulling you into his lap and cradling your face in his hands. because rudy doesn’t break. he just waits for you to come back to him.

graves – cocky and dominant, and always in control. he has that easy southern charm, the kind that makes you feel safe, wanted, but also makes it crystal clear that he’s in charge. calls you darlin’, sugar, his little thing. thrives on obedience, but he loves breaking you in, watching you go from stubborn and defiant to soft and needy under his touch.

"you’re makin’ this real difficult for yourself, sugar."

his voice is always calm, never rushed. he knows he’s going to get his way. when you brat, when you cross your arms and huff at him, he just sighs, shakes his head, tilts his chin down slightly so he’s looking at you, sharp blue eyes cutting through your attitude like a knife.

"can act tough all you want, sweets, but we both know how this ends."

his punishments aren’t harsh, they’re calculated. never does anything in the heat of the moment. he waits, makes you squirm, makes you realize that pushing him was a bad idea.

but when you’re good? fuck, does he reward you.

"now that’s what I like, darlin’," he murmurs, kitten licking at your clit. "my sweet girl, doin’ exactly what she’s told. ain't so hard, hmm?"

he’s big on ownership. likes having his hands on you, his arm draped over your shoulders, fingers ghosting against your neck. not because he doesn’t trust you, he just likes reminding you who you belong to.

"ain’t nobody else gonna take care of you like I do, sugar. you know that, don’t you?"

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

What the hell? Professor Trein Lucius bit me!

A Storied Past.

"Oh dear, has he? Here, show me exactly where he bit you.”

Trein had you sit and present him with the injury site. He peered at where you indicated, gently prodding the area with a gloved finger. It was slightly pink and tender, with a few indentations left behind by Lucius’s teeth.

He sighed with relief.

“I do not believe you need to pay a visit to the infirmary.”

“Are you sure?” you asked anxiously.

“Yes, you will be just fine. This isn’t a bite of aggression. Look, it hasn’t pierced the skin.” Trein’s smile was full of warmth. “More likely Lucius intended it as a love bite. It’s a sign of affection.”

“Mrrrow.” Lucius pawed at the bite mark, as if in apology for surprising you.

“Awww,” you gushed, heart melting. You threw your arms out, embracing the cat in a hug. “How can I stay mad at you, Lucius? You’re so cute, it’s not fair!”

He purred, nuzzling his face against yours. His fur, soft as silk, tickled.

Trein laughed. “It’s no wonder he likes you. Lucius adores the attention.”

[honeyedfate]

kiss her you fool | 심재윤

pairing. jake sim x idol!gf!reader

as if accidentally convincing both of your fans on several occasions that you two hate each other wasn’t enough, jake had to go ahead and mumble some sleepily ambiguous words on a weverse live and involve the whole internet. to salvage whatever shreds are left of the plan, you are to attend a baseball game together.

genre. fluff

a/n. the third & last part to loverboy is here!! sorry for the wait i wrote 4 different drafts until i settled on this one lol enjoy!! xx

[ › first part ] [ › second part ]

jake is a chill guy. he’s cool-headed, efficient, steady under pressure, always on the side of healthy optimism. that’s the story he sells to others—and to himself. but deep down, he knows he might be a bit of a fraud. worse, he can feel it.

his hands are drenched in sweat as they clench and unclench inside his pockets, chasing an old gum wrapper around to distract himself. the tag of his shirt pokes at his neck, making him want to barbarically tear off his clothes in front of thousands of baseball fans.

but instead, he dutifully follows you through row upon row of seats and keeps his gaze on the back of your head.

so, yes. jake is a very chill guy.

you keep glancing back at him, the lower half of your face obscured by a black mask. still, he knows you’re flashing him reassuring smiles, and he feels bad for how nervous he is. if he’s not staring at you, his eyes are darting around, scanning his surroundings like one of the baseball players warming up in the field might suddenly climb the walls and come for him.

“i think these are it,” you say, glancing at your tickets before sliding them into your back pocket.

jake wordlessly takes the seat next to you, adjusting his cap to shield as much of his face as possible. he knows it’s futile—staying hidden is the exact opposite of why he’s here, but habits die screaming, or something like that.

his shoulders tense for a split second at the touch of your hand on his thigh, and guilt gnaws at him when you pull away almost instantly. he meets your eyes and musters a smile. not that you can see it beneath his matching mask.

“we can leave any time,” you say in a soft tone, looking at him from under your lashes. “i don’t care what the plan is. if you’re uncomfortable, we can ditch this whole thing and get ramen at cu.”

jake’s heart swells, wanting nothing more than to do exactly that, but he knows it’s his fault you’re in this situation in the first place. well, for the most part. he can’t tell you that, though. he knows you will just dispute it until he starts believing it himself, and that would only prove to him once again that his backbone inevitably snaps in the face of a pretty girl.

no matter that it’s his pretty girl, and he’d do anything for you anyway. breaking his spine included. the fact remains—he ran his mouth on live, so now he’s got to face the consequences. 

swallowing the lump in his throat, he shakes his head and threads his fingers through yours, tucking both hands into the pocket of his jacket.

jake grins. “no, this is fun.” you send him a flat look, but he just nods towards the field. “i’ve never been to a baseball game. now we can take it off our bucket list.”

“sure,” you say, sounding wryly amused. “we don’t have a bucket list but at least now we’ve got something to cross off. i’ve also always wanted to be on the kiss cam. guess it’s our lucky day.”

“lucky us,” jake says, his lips curling as he feels your hand squeeze his. he casts a glance around, then leans forward, swiftly pulling both of your masks down with one hand. it’s a brief kiss, just a soft peck that’s a bit inconvenient since both of you are wearing hats, forcing him to tilt his head. but when he pulls back, he sees the way you’re chasing after his lips, eyes still closed, and goes just a little insane.

you look entirely too pretty to leave it at just one kiss. you deserve all the kisses in the world, actually, so he captures your lips again, tasting the cherry gloss he bought you last week because he likes it a little too much. it’s the same one you wore on your first date together.

jake’s lips brush against yours once more, deeper and a bit slower this time as if savouring the moment. you sigh into the kiss and pull back to catch your breath, your lips lingering just above his. your eyes are still closed, but jake doesn’t mind one bit, taking the moment to let his gaze wander over every single feature of yours that he knows by heart. and would you look at that? suddenly, he couldn’t care less that he’s sitting in a huge stadium.

you tear your gaze away from his lopsided grin. “let’s save some of this for later, yeah?” you say, and jake is not ashamed of the groan rumbling in the back of his throat as he hides his face in the crook of your shoulder. how else is a man supposed to act when your lips look so plumb and kissable, and your voice sounds like that? hopeless.

you’re looking at him, a smile tugging at your lips when you notice an older lady a few rows down elbowing the person next to her, gesturing not-so-subtly at the two of you. under your breath, you mumble, “the ahjummas down there are looking at us.” 

jake leans back, glancing at them from the corner of his eye before lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug. “can you blame them? we’re not exactly hard to look at.”

“your modesty astonishes me,” you say, sounding unimpressed.

jake raises an eyebrow and leans forward on his knees, a smirk tugging at his lips. “we’d make beautiful babies, and you know it.”

you snort, shaking your head. “that’s what ni-ki said this morning. something about sacrificing himself for his future nephews and nieces because at least he knows they’ll be cute. i’m still not sure what he meant by that.”

jake cocks his head and pokes your side when you playfully mirror him. “he came down this morning when yuki was talking to us in the kitchen,” jake says, shifting in his seat.

he grimaces as he remembers the conversation with jungwon who was basically a zombie at that hour after having to stay up late as a consequence of jake’s faux pas on weverse. “ni-ki said he was going to take care of this for us. i didn’t know what he meant at first, but then sunghoon sent me a screenshot of what ni-ki posted on weverse. it was a selfie of him, facing the other way so his left side was showing.”

“wait, seriously?” your eyebrows shoot up, and jake nods, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“yep. he called himself a martyr in the group chat. said he was taking one for the team.”

you gasp dramatically, holding a hand to your chest. “a martyr? for us? what’s next, a shrine in the dorm?”

jake laughs, clearly entertained by your idea. “i mean, we could probably arrange one. heeseung’s room is big enough to fit ten.”

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “that’s… actually true. but did it work?”

jake bites his lip, glancing at his phone. “i haven’t checked yet, but sunoo sent me a text earlier. apparently, engenes are seeing right through it.”

“what are they saying?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“they’re saying belift gave up ni-ki for damage control,” jake chuckles.

before you can say anything in response, your phone vibrates, the sudden buzz pulling your attention away. you reach for it, ignoring jake’s whiny protests as you untangle your hand from his. “hello?”

jake pouts and scoots closer, pressing his ear against the backside of your phone. you roll your eyes and click the side button to turn the volume up, letting him hear the voice on the other end, your manager’s. “…are you in your seats?”

you hum and nod, nearly knocking jake’s hat off with the movement. “yea, we’re here. we got here a bit early, so there are still a few empty seats. but the game should be starting soon. what’s up? did something happen?”

“well,” your manager says, her tone uncertain, and jake’s heart drops. “about half an hour ago, minjun posted the dance challenge you and jake filmed for their tiktok. it…er, seemed to stir up a bit more of a reaction than we expected…again.”

you exchange a confused glance with jake. nothing about the videos seemed off—he’d double-checked, paranoid he might’ve accidentally done something ridiculous again, like giving you a lap dance or declaring his undying love on camera.

filming those two dance challenges had already been an ordeal. the pr team was relentless, adamant on pushing you and jake to drop as many microscopic hints as possible to suggest something was going on between you two, but it was so painfully awkward that you ended up with enough unusable footage to last a month.

jake had been a giggling mess the entire time, finding it all so silly, like he was on some overly scripted dating show. you, on the other hand, couldn’t stop tripping over your own feet, bumping into him more times than he could count. at least you managed to do it on beat.

regardless, even though filming the final video had been a struggle, it was ready to go. jake had made sure of that.

it was just another dance challenge, he thinks to himself, trying to push aside the unease creeping up. whatever’s going on now, it’s gotta be grey sweater guy’s fault.

“what do you mean?” your voice brings him back, your curiosity clear. “we didn’t do anything…right?”

“well,” your manager says again, clearing her throat. “since we couldn’t really get any dance footage of you acting like, you know, an actual couple—” 

jake snorts.

“—minjun ended up keeping the last few seconds of a video when he posted it to the enhypen tiktok page. he didn’t give us a heads-up before doing it.”

your eyes widen as you send a quick look in jake’s way. “is he going to get in trouble?” you say into the phone, and jake pulls a funny face. is that what he was supposed to feel? concern? apparently, he likes the guy even less than he thought.

“that’s the thing,” your manager goes on. “everyone seems to like it?” she sounds quite surprised about it herself, and jake has to strain his neck to make sure he heard correctly. 

“everyone?” he echoes in disbelief, and you nudge him when he inches impossibly closer, practically climbing onto your lap.

“what do you mean everyone?” you ask as jake moves back a little. “what were we doing?”

your manager lets out a long sigh, as if hoping you wouldn’t ask. “after you left for the game, minju and some of the others decided to go through the videos again, hoping to find something a bit more exciting. they ended up finding one where you two were dancing really well—everything was clean, no one was falling or laughing, and the chemistry wasn’t too forced.”

she pauses, and you can hear her shifting slightly. “but then, right at the end, you trip over your feet and… well, you kind of just leave the frame.”

jake frowns, meeting your puzzled gaze. you had filmed so many different versions, they have all blended into a nightmarish concoction of blurred memories, making it hard to recall which one she means. “i leave the frame and then what?”

the silence stretches on for a beat, and jake feels a spark of irritation bubbling up at the theatrics. horrified, he starts to wonder if he’s accidentally flashed the whole world and didn’t even realise.

“the entire thing only lasts two seconds, but you stumble, jake rushes after you, and you both end up out of frame—but we can still see part of it because of the mirrors. jake has his arms around you as you both tumble to the floor, laughing.” she says in a matter-of-fact tone, then adds quietly, “minjun removed the music at the end, so you can hear the laughter.”

jake doesn’t even know how to respond. sure, the company can post whatever they want of him, but they usually don’t. there’s an unspoken rule of decency and respect among the team, and he’s at least asked before anything goes up. this? this is just wrong.

he doesn’t realise that you’re voicing his exact thoughts into the phone until a loud cheer ripples through the crowd. a woman he’s seen on tv before appears on the big screen over the baseball field. she’s offering some welcoming words, and jake figures the match must be starting soon.

“—he’s lucky people are receiving it well, but he has to know that it’s not okay to just post that without our knowledge or consent,” you say, your voice tinged with more disappointment than frustration.

“i know, trust me. yuki and i made sure any future genius moves from him go through us—and you two—first. i know you're not mad, just…" she sighs, papers shuffling. “look, almost 80% of the comments are positive, calling you a cute, good-looking couple and all that. the rest are either in denial or upset, but it doesn’t matter. more people are for it than against it, so just enjoy the game. you don’t have to go through with what we discussed if you don’t want to. things are looking good, y/n.”

jake doesn’t pay attention to the rest of the conversation, having heard enough. he leans back, resting a hand on the back of your seat and absentmindedly draws circles onto your skin.

you mutter something into the phone and end the call, melting into jake’s side with a sigh. he coos, pulling you closer, and presses a kiss to the top of your hat while humming. “you know what?” he says quietly.

“what?” your voice is muffled as you rub a hand over your face, looking up at him.

he grins. "at least they’re also calling us a cute and good-looking couple. ni-ki will be a proud uncle to our gorgeous kids.”

you can’t help but laugh, hiding your face in his chest and, at once, jake finds it hard to be bothered by anything happening on the internet or even outside this stadium. he has you in his arms and the rest of the afternoon off to enjoy a baseball game. what concerns could he possibly have?

soon after, the players file out onto the field, and the match begins. both of you end up having a lot more fun than expected, and jake briefly leaves to go grab some food and drinks.

he’s walking back up the stairs, looking for you and not even avoiding eye contact with people around like he did before. right now, he’s just a guy hugging two cups of soda and a pile of snacks to his chest, wandering the rows in search of his girlfriend. 

he must look as lost as he feels because someone suddenly taps him on the arm. looking down, he sees the two older women from before. they’re grinning up at him, and jake hesitantly returns the smile, realising a moment too late that they can’t see it due to his mask. 

“you’re three rows up, darling,” the woman on the left with the big, blue-framed glasses says, nodding over her shoulder and vaguely gesturing to where you’re sitting. his face lights up when your eyes meet, and you raise a hand to wave at him. he thanks them and makes to walk up the stairs when she stops him, placing a hand on his arm.

a small voice in the back of his head screams ‘stranger danger’ in capital letters at him, but he brushes it aside, trying to figure out what she could possibly want and whether that might be his kidney or one of the napkins he’s holding.

“you have a very beautiful girlfriend,” she says in that ambiguous, sage voice that the elderly have, and he’s caught off guard. not due to the voice, of course, but the mention of you. jake blinks, processing her words before nodding slowly.

“she’s not, erm, i mean, of course, she’s—”

the woman in the green cardigan laughs delightfully, eyes twinkling with amusement. “sweetie, breathe. we’re not the cia. you can talk about your girlfriend. in fact, you should. it keeps you both young.”

jake is too stunned to muster a reply. he eyes them carefully, wondering if this is a weird interaction or if he’s just never talked about you to anyone before. a second later, he realises—he really hasn’t. not to a stranger, not to anyone.

the thought repeats in his head, looping like a broken record. he’s never talked about you to anyone. and yet, it feels like praises about you live right on the tip of his tongue, like they’ve always been there, just waiting for an opening. so he tries it out. “her heart is even more beautiful,” he says shyly, testing the words, rolling them over like he’s trying to get a feel for them. “which is near impossible but she somehow makes it work.”

it feels weird, to be honest. like he’s revealing a well-buried national secret and endangering the country. the two women share a meaningful glance that doesn’t go unnoticed by him. his stomach twists. jake’s gaze flickers toward you, and an overwhelming wave of emotions crashes over him.

it’s more obvious now than ever. jake is stupidly in love with you. so much so that he has made an utter fool of himself time and time again in the name of keeping you a secret. like love could be something silent, something that exists in the shadows without growing restless. like it wouldn’t claw at the walls of his chest, begging to be let out.

he truly did think loving you quietly would make him feel better about everything. safer. less exposed. but now, faced with the weight of his own realisation, he sees how wrong he’d been. what was the point of all that caution if it only made him feel like this—like he’s been holding his breath for months, maybe even years?

now, he’s given the chance to do the complete opposite. and for the first time, he wants to take it. he wants to love you loudly, unapologetically. because it’s what you deserve. because it’s what he wants.

he exhales, glancing back at you. you’re focused on your phone, scrolling through something with a tiny crease between your brows. probably checking the responses to the tiktok, probably making sure minjun hasn’t ruined both your careers. always so careful, so thoughtful.

“she’s… incredible,” he says, the words tumbling out before he can second-guess them. but they feel right, sitting on his tongue like they belong there. he doesn’t need to say more than that. doesn’t need to explain how you always make people feel comfortable, how you remember the smallest details about everyone you meet, how you laugh with your whole body like it’s the first time you’ve ever found something funny.

the women smile knowingly, and jake lets out a soft breath, something inside him settling.

“i’m very lucky.”

“she’s lucky, too,” the green cardigan woman says, her voice warm. “treat each other well, yes? a love like yours is rare. don’t do it the dishonour of keeping it in the shadows.”

jake lets out a small, breathy laugh, caught somewhere between flustered and amused. he ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck, then nods—not just out of politeness, but because he hears her. really hears her.

the woman gives his arm a gentle pat before turning back to her friend, their conversation shifting elsewhere. jake exhales, then moves, crossing the distance between you in quick strides, taking the steps two at a time.

“should i be jealous?” you greet him with a teasing smile, taking the snacks from his arms.

he snorts. “they were just being nice. said you’re beautiful, by the way, and something about…” he hesitates, eyes flicking toward the field. “well, just… nice things.”

you watch him for a second, noticing the shift in his expression. but you don’t press, just shrugging it off and pulling down one side of your mask to take a bite of your corndog. your gaze drifts back to the cheer team as they work the crowd, the energy in the stadium picking up.

jake tries to focus, eyes darting to the blur of blue as cheerleaders and fans break into coordinated moves. but his mind keeps wandering back to what he’d just been told. normally, he’s not one to easily take anyone’s word as gospel, but this time, he can’t help it. it’s not just that he agrees—it’s the fact that he’s surprised by how much he does.

didn’t he spend all week trying to wrestle with this? he doesn’t want to put his relationship on display for everyone to pick apart—that’s the last thing he wants. but now, sitting here with you by his side in jamsil baseball stadium, he can’t shake the feeling that it doesn’t matter.

he glances at you, completely unaware of his thoughts, and all he sees is his person. someone he never doubts. someone who loves him, and someone he loves in return. does anything else even matter?

occupied by his thoughts, jake doesn’t realise what’s happening around him until the clapping starts. he blinks, surprised, as you turn to face him, bright-eyed and joining in with the crowd. he looks around, confused for a moment, until his gaze lands on the jumbotron. instead of the game, it now shows a couple in the stands, both wearing the rival team’s merch. the man leans in and gives the woman a sweet kiss on the lips. her face turns red, and the crowd erupts in cheers.

it’s the kiss cam, jake realises, and reflexively claps with everyone else as the woman shyly hides her face behind his shoulder. the excitement echoes through the stadium, the chant growing louder.

he can’t help but smile as he watches them, their laughter infectious. “they’re adorable,” you comment, gaze still fixed ahead, oblivious to his smile. jake’s chest tightens, but the feeling isn’t quite discomfort. more like the recognition of something he hadn’t known he’d been longing for. something he now sees clearly.

your mask is hanging off your ear as you absentmindedly sip on your drink, and jake is so glad to see your lips again. it’s like running into an old friend he’s missed. sometimes, it feels like he spends more time missing them than actually getting to kiss them.

he’s about to reply when you suddenly choke, your back straightening in surprise. out of the corner of his eye, he sees people turning their heads, and even though the music is still blasting through the speakers, he’s sure he hears gasps rippling through the crowd.

without thinking, he shifts his attention away from you and glances up at the jumbotron for confirmation—and there it is. the two of you, front and centre, framed in a pink, sparkling heart.

his eyes flick to you as you glance around, your expression a mix of confusion and discomfort. it’s strange to see you so flustered when you’re usually the calm, collected one, especially in situations like this. but here you are, shifting awkwardly under the attention.

a voice from the crowd calls out, “kiss her, you fool!” followed by the sound of cameras clicking as everyone starts pulling out their phones. more voices join in, chanting in unison, and jake can see the tension in your body. you look uncomfortable, clearly not used to this sort of attention, and it’s hard to ignore.

he feels a wave of protectiveness, wanting to ease the situation and make you feel comfortable. seeing you out of your element like this—normally the one who knows how to handle everything—hits him differently. he’s already made up his mind, though.

this whole thing had been part of the plan from the start, and he’s not going to let it stress you out any longer. he wants to kiss you, right here, right now, because it feels right. it’s not about the spectacle, it’s about showing you how much he’s proud to have you by his side.

plus, you have quite literally already told him three times how being on the kiss cam was something you’ve always wanted to do before the game had even begun.

jake huffs a quiet laugh, his body moving on its own as he shifts in his seat. his gaze locks with yours, and he can’t help but grin at the sight of your panicked smile.

“guess we’re famous now?” you quip nervously, trying to make light of the situation. jake tries hard not to laugh, but the sound of it escapes before he can stop it.

he pulls down his mask, the crowd’s excitement swelling around you both.

he leans in, lowering his voice so only you can hear him. “what do you say?” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly. “can i kiss you?”

he can see you thinking it over, your brows furrowing as nervousness peels away and you weigh your options. he already knows what you’ll say, but he still gives you the space to respond.

“we don’t have to do this, jake,” you whisper, the soft tone in your voice trying to make sure he’s comfortable too, even with thousands of eyes on you.

he smiles, the tenderness in your voice unfailingly melting him even more. “we don’t,” he agrees with a small shake of his head. “but i’ve never not wanted to kiss you, and i’m not starting now.”

your lips part slightly, eyes flickering up to his. the shift is almost imperceptible, but you feel it—his sudden insistence, the way he’s making this moment so much more than just a joke. the kiss cam, the crowd, all of it suddenly feels like less of a spectacle and more like something personal. something you didn’t expect but, deep down, have always wanted.

it’s strange, this feeling, and for a second, you almost don’t know what to do with it. the uncertainty that used to cling to you in moments like this is fading, replaced by something that feels surprisingly soft, sure. jake’s not just trying to make a spectacle of you; he’s actually trying to share this with you, to let you know that this is something he wants too.

your heart skips a beat. there’s no need for words, but you’re caught in the moment. a quiet nod is all you can muster, small but certain. “okay.”

his smile spreads before he even realises it. jake leans in, movements slow but purposeful, drawing it out just a moment longer. the kiss is tender, soft at first—he feels your breath mingle with his, the warmth of you close, the way you fit against him. it’s not rushed, not for the camera. it’s real. it’s something he’s wanted to do for so long, but this—this feels more like an act of love than just a kiss on a jumbotron.

you smile into it, and jake can’t help but grin too, the way your happiness settles deep in his chest. he knows the crowd is cheering, but all he can hear is the soft, breathy sound you make, the one that means you’re happy. the one that makes everything inside him flutter.

when he pulls away, the roar of the stadium hits him like a wave, but it feels distant, almost muted. you tuck yourself into his side, the sound of your laugh soft and light. there’s no turning back now. the world can know, and in this moment, jake couldn’t care less.

‘operation: no hate, just date’ has done its job.

he presses a quick, sneaky kiss to your temple, his grin still lingering, all warmth and love. he wraps his arm around you, pulling you just a little closer, the moment between the two of you nothing but pure joy.

alright. maybe jake is not the chill guy he thought he was. but in this moment, he doesn’t need to be.

all he’s ever wanted to be was a lover boy, and now it feels like he’s finally on the right track.

taglist: @jakeslvt @username-111222333444555 @pjselee

[heaven-s-black-box]

Indulgence- Sunday x fem!Reader

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Recovery date: February 1st, 2025

Description: Finally free of the shackles of the family, Sunday indulges himself ever desire he's ever had.

Includes- technically has plot, bondage, blindfold, taking pictures (briefly right at the start), teasing, creampie

Notes: This was going to be a siren Sunday thing but... eh. Also, someday I'll have the guts to write exactly what i want without chickening out (I chickened out of the camera).

Word count: 1 438

Back to directory

“Good girl,” Sunday’s voice soothes, echoing through Y/n’s head.

She can’t see him, her sight blocked by a soft white blindfold, and she can’t reach to touch him either as he’s bound her hands to the headboard with equally soft white ties. All she can trust is the sound of his voice, and the gentle song of praise he sings.

Y/n hears the shutter of a camera, and it makes her pout.

“Sunday.”

“Yes my love?” His tone sounds so innocent, like he isn’t running his finger through her folds.

The tips of his fingers dip in, and then the heat from his hand moves away before the shutter goes off again.

“You're being-mph,” she cuts herself off as his fingers brush her lips, not wanting to bite him, and he settles them on her tongue in her stunned state.

His fingers stroke against her tongue before she runs it between them and licks them clean. Not that there was much to clean off, and Sunday laughs at that enthusiasm. She’s trying to convince him to hurry up, to touch her in any way that might alleviate the ache between her legs.

The bed creaks as he shifts to put the camera away, his fingers pressing further until they make Y/n gag. He pulls back quickly, removing them completely and settling his hands on her hips.

“Sorry,” he whispered, placing a kiss on the shell of her ear.

She shivered as his kisses trailed down her neck. Her legs tried to press together, but Sunday was sitting between them and instead she met the bare skin of his legs. His kisses stopped above her heart, and he rested his forehead against the space.

Y/n can picture the serene expression he must be wearing, eyes closed as he listens closely to the anticipatory thundering of her heart.

Or maybe not, she notes when his hand– cooled from her dry spit– brushed her clit. Maybe he was grinning to himself.

The sudden cool sensation caused Y/n’s hips to buck up.

“So good for me,” he sighed, slowly pressing his fingers into her cunt and then curling them up. “So patient, humoring these desires of mine.”

He began pumping his fingers in and out, slowly. There was just enough friction to start building an edge, but not nearly enough to give Y/n a release. No, Sunday was right, she was patient and she would humor his desires.

“Sun-” Again, Sunday stopped her from speaking. This time by pressing his lips against hers.

His tongue slipped past her lips, leaving her with the faint taste of the tea he’d been drinking earlier. His free hand came up to cradle her face, and the slow sensual pace turned frantic along with his fingers. They stretched her open, letting him drink up every gasp and moan she let out in response.

He pulled back, admiring her kiss swollen lips and heaving chest. His thumb ran lovingly along her lips as the fingers in her cunt slowed to a stand still before he pulled them out. Sunday looked down just in time to watch her hole spasm as the loss.

“You-” Y/n was cut off by her own lack of oxygen this time, “are being such a dick.”

“And I thank you for putting up with me,” he hummed, genuine adoration in his voice making Y/n sigh.

That was the whole point of this after all; for Sunday to be allowed to do as he pleased. The camera, the restraints and the blindfold, they were all desires that he would rather die than admit. They were perverse, and the camera could damage both his and the family's reputation but he no longer bore that cross. He was no longer Sunday, head of the Oak family.

The hand soaked in Y/n’s slick wrapped around his dick so he could use it as lubricant.

Squelching quickly filled the room as he let out shaky breaths, holding himself up above her on his elbow. His warm breath brushed her face, and she leaned up to try and find his lips. She missed, only grazing his nose from how his head was hanging.

He watched his hand glide along his dick, precum dripping on to her abdomen and all he could think of was how it might look if he let himself cum. It would certainly be another picture worth taking, but he could do that another day. For now he was intent on fulfilling another fantasy.

“Thank you,” he whispered again, hanging his head next to her ear as he lined himself up with her cunt. “For loving me, despite all I’ve done,” he slowly pushed the tip in, causing Y/n to take a deep breath in, “for trusting me, still,” he pushed in further and Y/n let her head fall back in bliss, “and for allowing me this pleasure.”

Sunday bottomed out with a sharp breath as Y/n’s walls clenched. As soon as he collected himself, Sunday pulled all the way out and slammed back in.

Y/n’s hands jerked up as she tried to reach for him, and it made him grin.

“What’s wrong, can’t reach?” His breathing was heavy, and he pushed one of her legs up so he could lean in closer and fuck her deeper. A strangled cry left her, and he laughed airily. “What would you do if you could? Would you hold me tighter, keeping us connected. Like this, I could stop whenever and you couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Ah! You- wouldn’t,” Y/n gasped, hips trying to meet Sunday’s rapid thrusts.

Sunday moaned against her ear, causing her walls to flutter around him. Using his body to hold down her leg, he began to circle her clit. His fingers glided smoothly through all the slick that was building up in a ring around his cock. In return Y/n’s walls constricted again, making him moan.

“You’re right,” he moaned. “I’m enjoying thi-is far too much. Can I cum inside?” He asked after a brief pause. “Please, please, plea-”

“Yes,” Y/n gasped, though it sounded like it was almost a laugh. “I al-ready agreed.”

“Ah,” he let out a shaky sigh, “you did but, I want to be sure.”

He looks up, looking for her eyes only to be met with a band of white– it makes him scowl. His thrusts stutter as he shifts his weight, the sudden changes in angles making both of them whine, so that he can pull Y/n’s blindfold off.

Y/n’s eyes are squeezed shut, and he rests his forehead on hers.

“Open,” he breathes. “Open your eyes.”

With great effort Y/n does as she’s asked and finds Sunday’s pupils blow wide and eyes soft. The room is dim, casting a faint orange halo around him, his hair sticking out from where she’d been gripping it before this.

“Sunday, my hands?”

“Can’t-” He shakes his head slightly, the hand planted against the pillow to hold him up gripping the fabric.

Y/n’s nails dug into her palms as she struggled against the restraints. A high pitched whine escaped her as her thighs locked around Sunday and her toes curled, walls constricting around Sunday. The halovian moaned, watching Y/n’s eyes roll back in her head as he continued rubbing tight circles into her clit until her hips started jerking back from over stimulation.

He came suddenly when Y/n’s gaze finally met his again, a small blissful smile on her face as she stared up at him from through her lashes. The hand that had been on her clit grabbed her hips and held her tight against him while his knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping the pillow. Y/n made a soft noise of satisfaction as Sunday’s release painted her insides.

The two stayed there, heavy breathing filling the room, until Sunday found the strength to release Y/n. Sunday sat back, slipping slightly from Y/n and making them both his, and began to gently rub her wrists. He places a kiss to the inside of each, and then leans down to kiss Y/n’s lips.

She slid her arms around his neck, holding him close.

“Thank you,” Sunday whispered as they pulled away for air. He placed another quick peck to Y/n’s lips. “Would you like a bath?”

“Hm, a bath sounds nice.” Y/n began running her fingers through his damp hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “You should join me.”

“If that’s what you want, I would be happy to.”

[kaiyunsim]

best lover —

pairing : bf!taesan x gn!reader

summary : after taesan works hard for the newest comeback you wanted to get him a gift... something perfect. but you don't know what exactly to get him so you get help from his roommate.

warnings : fluff, angst (just a little bit), tense confrontation, some music references, taesan gets kinda jealous, kind of a continuation of this fic

a/n : this lowkey made me relapse into the emo/punk genre and now i'm actively listening to them again ! taesan so silly here.

queueing : best lover - bibi, and july - heize + dean

[requested]

— wc : 4.8k — not proof read —

you’ve always known taesan was cool.

not in the tryhard way, not in the way people force an image to seem untouchable. no, he’s effortlessly cool. the kind of cool that comes from simply existing, from being so unapologetically himself that it draws people in.

his aesthetic is proof of that—dark clothes, silver rings, an ever-growing collection of band tees that he claims aren’t a collection but still seem to multiply every time you see him. his playlists are filled with gritty guitar riffs and melancholic lyrics, songs that feel like they belong in a coming-of-age film.

you love it. you love the way he leans against walls like a movie character, the way his fingers tap out drum beats on tables when he’s lost in thought. the way his voice gets softer when he talks about music, when he lets his guard down just enough for you to see the warmth underneath.

so, when their comeback is finally announced, when you see the hours of training, late-night rehearsals, and exhaustion culminate into something incredible, you know you need to do something. something that says, i see you. i see how hard you’ve worked, and i’m proud of you.

but what do you get someone like taesan?

he’s never been the type to want extravagant gifts. he shrugs off praise, mumbles “it’s nothing” when people tell him he’s done well. but you know he keeps every little note fans give him, that he still has the random trinkets the members bought him over the years.

so it has to be something personal. something that actually means something.

you think about it for days, running through ideas in your head. clothes? no, too easy. he already has everything he likes. accessories? maybe, but he’s picky, and you don’t trust yourself to pick out something he’d actually wear.

and then it hits you.

vinyls.

taesan loves music in a way that’s deeper than just listening. he collects records, always talking about how certain albums sound different on vinyl, how the warmth and crackle make it feel more alive. you’ve seen the way he runs his fingers over the covers, the way he carefully places them on his turntable like he’s handling something sacred.

but you don’t know enough about it.

you know the bands he listens to, sure, but not the specific pressings, not which editions are worth having, not which ones he’s been searching for. you need help.

so, you text the only person who would know and would be the most help.

sungho.

—

you: hey, random question, but do you think you could help me with something?

he replies almost immediately.

sungho: depends. am i gonna regret saying yes?

you snort. typical.

you: no, it’s for taesan. i wanna get him some vinyls, but i don’t know which ones he’d actually want.

a pause. then—

sungho: oh. you’re going ot make him a happy boyfriend for sure. sungho: yeah, i can help. you free tomorrow?

relief washes over you.

you: yeah. thanks, sungho. seriously.

sungho: don’t thank me yet. wait till we actually find something good.

you smile, pocketing your phone.

this is a good plan. a perfect plan.

now, you just have to keep it a secret.

the next morning, you wake up with a nervous excitement buzzing under your skin.

taesan is still half-asleep when you see him, his hair messy from sleep, the collar of his oversized shirt slipping down one shoulder. he looks soft like this, different from his usual sharp edges and guarded expressions.

“morning,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before he can grumble in protest.

he mumbles something incoherent, eyes still closed, before reaching out and lazily wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

you laugh, poking his side. “i have to go out for a bit.”

that wakes him up a little. his eyes blink open, groggy but alert. “where?”

you freeze for half a second before forcing yourself to play it cool. “just running errands.”

his brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t question it. instead, he just tightens his grip around you for a moment before letting go.

“be safe,” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

your heart squeezes at that.

you brush his hair out of his face, letting your fingers linger for a second longer than necessary. “always.”

—

meeting up with sungho feels like a mission.

he’s already waiting outside the taesan's dorm room, dressed casually but still effortlessly put together, a stark contrast to the slightly chaotic energy you’re bringing with you.

“you look nervous,” he says, amused.

“because i am.”

he raises an eyebrow. “it’s just vinyl shopping.”

“yeah, but it’s for taesan,” you stress. “i can’t mess this up. i need to find something perfect.”

sungho rolls his eyes but leads the way inside the vinyl store, hidden in the corners of the busy streets.

the moment you step in, you’re overwhelmed.

rows and rows of records stretch out in front of you, organized into sections you barely understand. the store smells like old paper and something nostalgic, a quiet hum of music playing from the speakers.

sungho glances at you. “you know what bands he likes, right?”

you nod. “yeah, but i don’t know what he already has.”

“then we start with the basics.”

he guides you through the aisles, pointing out albums that fit taesan’s taste. some are obvious bands you’ve seen on his playlists, artists you recognize from the posters in his room. others, not so much.

“this one’s a classic,” sungho says, pulling out a worn-looking album. “he’s mentioned it before, i think he even has a t-shirt of them.”

it was the black parade by my chemical romance

you take it from him, running your fingers over the cover. “do you think he already has the vinyl?”

sungho shakes his head. “nah, he would’ve bragged about it if he did.”

you smile at that. taesan isn’t the bragging type, not really, but when it comes to things he loves, he can’t help but share them with you. you can already picture the way his eyes will light up when he sees the gift, the way he’ll trace the album cover with careful fingers before hugging you in that quiet, deliberate way of his.

this is good. this is exactly what you wanted.

you glance at sungho. “i think we’re on the right track.”

he smirks. “told you.”

you roll your eyes but can’t hide your grin.

this is going to be perfect.

if you can keep it a secret long enough.

you flip through the stacks carefully, the plastic sleeves crinkling under your fingertips as you skim the selection. rows of album covers stare back at you, some bold and vibrant, others muted and mysterious, each one a different piece of someone’s story.

sungho stands beside you, already pulling out records with ease, flipping them over to check editions and pressings like it’s second nature.

“how do you even know all this?” you ask, watching as he inspects a black-and-white cover, his eyes narrowing slightly before he shakes his head and puts it back.

he smirks. “taesan’s not the only one with taste, you know.”

you roll your eyes. “yeah, but you act like this is your second home.”

he hums, running his fingers along the edge of a shelf. “it kinda is. when i first moved into the dorms, i’d come to places like this just to kill time. got to know a lot about music that way.”

that makes sense. sungho has that effortless, older-brother energy, the kind that makes you feel like he’s always been one step ahead of everyone else. but even so, you know there’s more to it. something about the way he says it, like music was a comfort rather than just a hobby.

you glance down at the album in your hands. the artwork is dramatic, painted in deep reds and blacks, the kind of thing you could easily imagine taesan leaving out on his desk just because it looks cool. it was titled a fever you can’t sweat out this time, by panic at the disco

you hesitate. “what about this one?”

sungho looks over, and to your relief, he nods in approval. “solid pick. taesan likes them. they have that whole raw, gritty sound he’s into.”

you exhale, setting it aside in the growing pile of vinyls you’ve picked out. “good. i was kinda guessing.”

sungho snickers. “if you were completely guessing, you would’ve picked something embarrassing.”

you give him a flat look. “i wouldn’t do that.”

“you sure? no boyband vinyls hidden in that stack?”

“why are you acting like that would be a crime?”

he laughs, shaking his head. “nah, but taesan would probably combust.”

you grin at the thought. he probably would. his whole tough, brooding image crumbling the second someone dared to associate him with anything remotely bright and upbeat. you’ve teased him about it before, played pop songs in his presence just to watch him pretend he wasn’t listening.

but this isn’t about teasing him. this is about him.

you glance around the store, taking in the dim lighting, the faint sound of a record spinning in the background. a few other customers linger nearby, flipping through vinyls with the same careful reverence, but none of them seem rushed. it’s the kind of place taesan would get lost in, taking his time with every shelf, soaking in the atmosphere.

you wish he was here.

you shake the thought away before it can settle too deep.

“okay,” you say, straightening up. “i think i need at least one more.”

sungho scans the shelves before reaching over and pulling out a record without hesitation.

“this.”

you take it from him, studying the cover. it’s striking… american idiot by greenday.

“he’s been looking for this one,” sungho explains. “i remember him complaining about how it’s always out of stock.”

your chest warms. “then that’s perfect.”

sungho grins. “congrats, you officially have a good gift… or multiple”

you roll your eyes but can’t help but smile. “thanks for the approval.”

“anytime.”

you head to the counter, placing the records down carefully as the cashier rings them up. the prices make you wince a little. vinyl collecting is not cheap. but you don’t hesitate. taesan is worth it.

when you step back outside, the air feels cooler, a slight breeze brushing against your skin. sungho stretches beside you, squinting up at the sky.

“so,” he says. “how are you planning to give it to him?”

you blink. “uh. just... give it to him?”

he gives you a flat look. “you’re really bad at this.”

“excuse me?”

“c’mon,” he says. “you go through all this trouble, sneak around just to surprise him, and you’re just gonna hand it to him like it’s a bag of chips?”

you frown. “what am i supposed to do? make a scavenger hunt?”

“i mean, that would be funny.”

“sungho.”

he chuckles. “fine, fine. but at least make it a moment, you know? like, put them in a nice box or something. set the mood a little.”

you consider that. he’s right. you don’t just want this to be a casual exchange. you want taesan to feel how much this means.

“okay,” you say slowly. “i’ll think of something.”

sungho pats your shoulder. “good. because if you don’t, i’m telling him i helped.”

you gasp. “you wouldn’t.”

his grin is downright evil. “try me.”

you groan, shoving him lightly as he laughs.

but despite the teasing, there’s a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before. because for all the effort, all the second-guessing, all the overthinking. you know this is the right thing to do.

you just hope taesan sees it that way, too.

you and sungho are now wandering the streets, bags in hand, the weight of them a constant reminder of what you're keeping from taesan. there's a knot in your stomach, anxiety creeping in at the thought of what will happen once you return to the dorm.

sungho notices you fidgeting with your phone, eyes flicking between your screen and the road ahead. "you've been checking your messages like every two seconds," he says with a knowing smile. "taesan giving you trouble?"

"i... i don’t know," you mutter, glancing at your phone again. "he hasn’t texted yet. i think he’s mad."

sungho snorts. "he’s always mad."

you roll your eyes but can't help the tension building inside you. it's not like taesan to be suspicious like this. sure, he's possessive at times, but you’ve always been upfront with him. today, though, everything feels off. you know he’s probably wondering where you are, especially after leaving so abruptly.

after a few more moments of walking, your phone buzzes in your hand. it’s a message from taesan.

you open it quickly, your heart dropping when you read the text.

taesan: where are you?

you can almost hear the frustration in his words, even though they’re so short. you hesitate for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. the last thing you want is to reveal anything.

“everything okay?” sungho asks, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow.

“yeah,” you say quickly, typing back a response. "just... running… errands…"

you: just out. why?

you hit send and try to push the worry away. but it doesn’t help when your phone buzzes again, another message from taesan.

taesan: are you by yourself?

your stomach tightens. it feels like he’s fishing for something, trying to confirm his suspicions. you swallow hard. taesan doesn’t know you’re out with sungho. he probably thinks you’re just alone, maybe out with someone else. the thought of him jumping to conclusions makes you tense up.

“you need to tell him the truth, man,” sungho says, half-joking but still serious. “it’s gonna be hard to keep it up much longer.”

you bite your lip, looking at the text again. taesan doesn’t like being kept in the dark. but if you tell him you're out with sungho, there's no way you can keep the surprise a secret.

you: yeah, just me. out by myself.

you send the message quickly, almost immediately regretting it. the lie feels wrong in your gut, but you can’t risk ruining the surprise.

as soon as you hit send, another text from taesan comes through.

taesan: you didn’t tell me where you went. it’s weird, you know. don’t lie to me.

your heart sinks. this is exactly what you were afraid of. you can feel his frustration radiating through the words, even though they’re brief. taesan might not say it outright, but you know he’s pissed.

“is he mad?” sungho asks, eyes narrowing as he watches you.

“yeah,” you say quietly, looking at the screen again. “he thinks i’m lying.”

sungho tilts his head, his expression softening. “well, you kind of are...”

you groan, feeling guilty. “yeah, but if i tell him the truth, he’ll know what we’re really doing.”

sungho sighs but doesn’t press. “you’ve got to be careful, though. taesan can’t stand being lied to. he might feel like you’re hiding something else.”

you take a deep breath, trying to push the anxiety aside. “he’s just overthinking it. i’ll deal with it when we get back.”

you walk in silence for a bit longer, and the weight of the lie is starting to feel unbearable. but then your phone buzzes again. it’s from taesan.

taesan: riwoo just told me you’re out with sungho. why didn’t you say that?

your heart stops. it feels like everything is crashing down around you. of course, taesan would hear from riwoo. he always does. but you didn’t think it would happen so soon.

sungho laughs lightly, though it’s more nervous than anything else. “i mean, it’s not like you didn’t want him to find out.”

you stare at the message, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration. “he’s so mad now...”

“you better fix it,” sungho says with a small chuckle. “he’s gonna blow up on you if you keep avoiding the truth.”

you sigh, rubbing your eyes. “i don’t know how to fix it. i’ve already lied twice.”

“well,” sungho says, “maybe you just gotta... tell him the truth at this point. no more hiding.”

but you’re not ready to do that. not yet. the surprise is too important to mess up now.

you type out a message, your hands shaking a little as you try to keep it steady.

you: i’m sorry. we just bumped into eachothee

you press send, waiting for taesan’s response with bated breath.

it takes a while, but finally, your phone buzzes.

taesan: it was a coincidence?

you let out a sigh of relief. it's not as bad as it could have been, but you still feel like you’ve messed up.

you: yeah, i went out to grab some stuff, and boom, sungho was there getting some stuff for the dorm too

you wait for a reply, and when it comes, it’s still not as angry as you expected, but you can hear the frustration in taesan’s words.

taesan: you know, you could’ve just told me. i don’t like when you hide stuff from me.

your heart drops, and you feel guilty again. you want to explain yourself, but you’re afraid it’ll make everything worse.

“he’s really pissed now,” you say quietly to sungho, who nods sympathetically.

“you should’ve just told him earlier,” he says, though his tone is more playful than critical. “now you gotta go back and fix it.”

you take a deep breath, realizing sungho’s right. you’re going to have to deal with the fallout when you get back to the dorm.

you decide on sungho’s dorm since taesan is rooming with woonhak and jaehyun so it would be perfect to wrap his gift all together and put final touched on it.

but once you open the door, you stand frozen at the door of sungho’s dorm, heart hammering in your chest. the moment taesan walks in, everything about the room shifts. his presence fills the space, and even though he’s not saying anything yet, you feel the weight of his gaze.

“so, this is where you’ve been?” taesan’s voice cuts through the silence. it’s sharper than usual, colder too. he looks at you, then at sungho, his eyes narrowing. “i thought you said you were by yourself.”

you feel your breath catch in your throat. his words hit harder than expected, but you force a smile, trying to keep your cool. “i was… i mean, i am.”

taesan tilts his head, his eyes scanning you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “i just bumped into sungho, we were talking, and i guess riwoo saw us leave together.” you’re already regretting how this sounds, but you can’t back down now. you have to keep the lie intact.

“bumped into sungho?” taesan’s voice drips with suspicion. “so it’s just a coincidence you were both out together?”

you nod quickly, hoping he buys it. “yeah, we were just… talking, you know? nothing serious. i just didn’t want to bother you while you were busy.”

taesan crosses his arms, studying you with a sharp gaze. “that doesn’t sound right.”

the air between you two feels like it’s crackling with tension. you swallow hard, knowing you can’t let him get too suspicious. “it’s really nothing, taesan. you know i wouldn’t lie to you about this.”

“you wouldn’t, huh?” taesan says slowly, his tone soft but with a dangerous edge. “then why didn’t you just tell me? why go through all this just to cover up some… coincidence?”

you flinch slightly at his words, the guilt gnawing at you. but you won’t break. you can’t spoil the surprise now. not when everything is so close to being perfect.

“i didn’t want to bother you with the details,” you say, hoping he buys it. “i just figured i’d spend some time with sungho, that’s all.” you glance at sungho for a moment, but he’s standing still, like he’s unsure whether to step in.

taesan watches you for a long beat, and you can see the wheels turning in his mind. his expression hardens. “so you thought it’d be better to lie to me, to sneak around?”

your chest tightens, the weight of his words sinking in deeper than you expected. “taesan, it’s not like that.”

“really?” taesan’s voice rises, a hint of frustration creeping in. “because that’s exactly what it sounds like. i don’t know, it’s just hard to believe that you’re not hiding something. are you trying to cover something up?”

you feel your heart race. this is spiraling out of control, and you don’t know how to stop it. the last thing you want is for him to think you’re doing something behind his back.

“taesan, please,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “you’re overthinking this. i didn’t want to tell you because i didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” you force yourself to look him in the eye, trying to convey sincerity. “it’s nothing, really.”

taesan doesn’t respond right away. he’s still standing there, arms crossed, eyes cold as he studies you. you feel like he’s dissecting every word you’ve said, trying to figure out if you’re being honest or not.

“so what, this is all just some coincidence?” taesan asks again, voice dripping with doubt. “you just happened to be with sungho, and riwoo just happened to see you leaving together?”

you nod quickly, trying to sound convincing. “yeah, that’s it. it’s just a coincidence, taesan.”

taesan lets out a long breath, his frustration simmering just under the surface. he doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t push further. yet.

“you’re making this harder than it needs to be,” you say, trying to change the subject. “it’s nothing. seriously.”

taesan stays quiet, his eyes narrowing, still unconvinced. “i don’t know if i believe you, but fine. if you say so.”

there’s a moment of silence between you two, and you can almost feel the distance growing between you. you want to tell him the truth, but you can’t risk it. not yet.

“you didn’t need to lie to me, you know,” taesan says softly, his gaze softer but still guarded. “you could’ve just told me where you were. there wouldn’t have been any problem.”

“i know,” you say, your heart sinking. “but i didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

the moment you say it, you regret it. taesan’s eyes flash with confusion, but he doesn’t say anything. he just watches you, waiting.

“what surprise?” taesan asks, the suspicion back in his voice.

you hesitate, panic rising. you can’t tell him, not yet. not when you’re this close.

“it’s nothing,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “i just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

taesan’s gaze sharpens again. “you’re lying. i can tell.”

you want to scream, to tell him the truth, but you stay silent, your heart heavy with the pressure of it all.

“you’ve been hiding something from me, haven’t you?” taesan asks, his voice quiet now, as if he’s piecing everything together.

you look away, unable to meet his eyes. you can’t keep lying, but you can’t give in either. not yet.

“taesan, please,” you whisper. “just trust me. i don’t want to hurt you.”

he sighs, his expression softening just a little. “i trust you, but it’s hard when you keep lying to me. i just don’t get why you couldn’t tell me what was going on.”

you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. your throat feels tight, and your mind is racing, trying to figure out how to get yourself out of this mess.

“i’m sorry,” you finally say, your voice barely audible. “i didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

taesan looks at you for a long moment, his face softening a bit. “it’s fine,” he says quietly. “but next time, just tell me. no more lies.”

you nod, relieved but still filled with guilt.

there’s a long silence, and then you finally reach into your bag and pull out the vinyl and the trinkets you picked out for him. you hold them out to him, your hands shaking.

“here,” you say softly, voice full of apology. “i got these for you. i… i thought you’d like them.”

taesan takes the items slowly, his expression unreadable. after a few moments, he looks up at you. “you didn’t have to do this,” he says, his voice softening. “but… thanks.”

you smile weakly, still feeling the weight of everything. “i’m sorry for making you mad.”

taesan sighs, stepping closer to you. “it’s okay. just promise me no more lies, alright?”

“promise,” you say quietly.

and for the first time in what feels like forever, the tension begins to melt away. taesan pulls you into a hug, and you let yourself relax, knowing that you’ll have to make things right.

but for now, you’re just grateful that he’s still here.

taesan is silent for a long time, just staring at the vinyls in his hands. his fingers trace over the covers, his expression unreadable.

you shift nervously, waiting for some kind of reaction. was this too much? was this not what he would’ve liked? sungho had assured you it was a good choice, but now, standing here with taesan’s gaze locked onto the gift, doubt creeps in.

“you really did all this for me?” taesan finally asks, voice quieter now.

you nod quickly. “of course i did. you just had a comeback, and i wanted to get you something that actually fit your taste. something you’d really like.”

he exhales slowly, his grip tightening around the vinyls for a second before he looks up at you. his expression has softened completely, the cold edge gone. instead, there’s something else… something warmer.

“you’re an idiot,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. in fact, his lips twitch slightly, like he’s trying not to smile. “you could’ve just told me.”

“and ruin the surprise?” you huff, crossing your arms. “not a chance.”

taesan sighs, shaking his head. “you made me worry for nothing.”

“i didn’t mean to,” you mumble, guilt creeping back in.

he looks at you for another long second before stepping forward, wrapping his arms around you. his hold is firm, secure, like he’s grounding himself in your presence.

you blink, surprised at the sudden affection, but quickly melt into the embrace. his scent is familiar, and the warmth of his body makes all the stress from earlier fade.

“don’t do that again,” he mutters into your hair. “just tell me next time.”

you nod against his chest. “okay. i promise.”

he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his dark eyes still holding a bit of lingering frustration. but it’s different now. less about suspicion, more about the fact that you worried him.

his eyes flicker to sungho, and his warmth disappears just slightly as he levels a glare at him. “and you,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

sungho raises his hands defensively. “hey, don’t look at me like that. i was just helping.”

“helping,” taesan repeats, clearly not convinced. “spending hours alone with y/n, keeping secrets, sneaking around.”

sungho rolls his eyes. “yeah, yeah, i get it. i’d be mad too. but it’s not like that.”

“doesn’t matter,” taesan grumbles, still glaring. “you still got too comfortable.”

you groan, tugging at his sleeve. “taesan, please. it’s not like we were on a date or something.”

taesan clicks his tongue but lets it go, instead looking back at the items in his hands. now that he’s actually processing it, his expression shifts, like he’s finally realizing what you got him, without the worry of why you were lying.

“wait,” he mutters, flipping it over. “this album… where did you find this?”

you grin. “special store sungho knew about. he helped me find the best ones.”

taesan pauses for a moment, then looks at you again, softer this time. “you really went through all this trouble just to get me something i’d like?”

you scoff. “of course i did. i love you, you idiot.”

his ears turn red. it’s subtle, but you notice it. he looks away, clearing his throat. “you’re the idiot,” he mumbles, gripping the vinyls like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “but… thanks.”

he pulls you into another hug, holding you tight, like he doesn’t want to let go.

and just like that, everything feels right again.

[weekendlusting]

A TALE OF FAME

pairing ꪆৎ charles leclerc x ahaana patel ᥫ᭡. f1 driver x bollywood actress au

chapter ꪆৎ 3

summary ꪆৎ she's everything, and he just drives.

note ꪆৎ no hate to any characters used in the story, none of what i write reflects on how they actually are. all my love, happy reading.

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Charles Leclerc sat in his hotel suite, fingers drumming impatiently against the glass of whiskey in his hand. He wasn’t even drinking it—just swirling the amber liquid in the dim light of his room, as if the motion itself could steady his thoughts.

Alex was late. Of course, she was. She had a way of dragging things out, prolonging the inevitable, believing that if she held on long enough, reality would bend to her will.

He heard the sharp knock at his door and exhaled slowly before getting up to open it. Alex stood there, all too put together—her blonde hair in effortless waves, her lips curved in a knowing smirk, like she already thought she’d won whatever game she was playing.

“Chéri,” she purred, stepping past him without waiting for an invitation. “Miss me?”

Charles shut the door and ran a hand through his hair. “Sit down, Alex.”

She turned, arching a perfectly sculpted brow. “Oh? We’re being serious now?” She strolled over to the couch, sitting with the grace of someone who still thought they held all the cards.

Charles didn’t sit. He remained standing, arms crossed, his jaw tight. “I told you this was over.”

Alex let out a soft laugh, tilting her head as she crossed her legs. “And yet, you called me here. Mixed signals, don’t you think?”

“I called you here,” Charles said, voice measured, “because you don’t seem to get it. We are done, Alex. Finished.”

Her smile didn’t waver, but something flickered in her eyes. “Are we?” she said smoothly. “Because I keep hearing your name next to mine. The media still calls me your girlfriend. You haven’t exactly rushed to correct them.”

Charles clenched his fists. “I shouldn’t have to. We broke up. You just refuse to accept it.”

She leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. “Or maybe you’re just confused. Maybe this—whatever this little tantrum is—will pass, and you’ll realize that I am the only woman who truly understands you.”

Charles let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Tantrum? You think I’m throwing a tantrum? Alex, I am exhausted.”

Her smirk faltered slightly, but she masked it quickly. “Exhausted of what?”

“Of you!” His voice rose, exasperation lacing every word. “Of the mind games. Of the manipulation. Of the constant need to control everything, including me.” He pointed at her. “You think if you show up enough times, if you insert yourself into my life over and over, I’ll just—what? Change my mind?”

Alex’s eyes darkened. “I wouldn’t have to insert myself into your life if certain people weren’t trying to replace me.”

Charles exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And here we go.”

She stood, arms folding as she stepped closer to him. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, Charles. That little actress you’ve been parading around—Ahaana.”

Charles’s eyes snapped to hers, his posture stiffening. “Ahaana has nothing to do with this.”

Alex scoffed. “Please. You think I don’t see the way you looked at her that day?” She stepped closer, voice dripping with venom. “She is nothing. She’s a novelty. A shiny new toy for you to play with. And once the excitement fades, you’ll realize what I’ve always known—you and I are inevitable.”

Charles’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. “You are delusional, Alex. And actually fucking crazy if you think that Ahaana has anything to do with this.”

Her lips curled. “Am I?”

“Yes,” he snapped, stepping forward, closing the space between them. “I have never—never—been more certain about anything in my life. We are over. I am breaking up with you. I don’t love you. I don’t even like you.”

She inhaled sharply, but before she could speak, Charles continued.

“You want to know why? Because I see you now. For who you really are. You’re not the woman I fell for—you’re a version of her, twisted and bitter, clinging onto something that doesn’t exist anymore.” He exhaled harshly. “You’re right about one thing. I do look at Ahaana differently. Because she isn’t like you.”

Alex’s face twisted, her hands curling into fists. “She will never be me.”

“Thank God for that.”

The silence between them was thick, charged with something dangerously close to hatred. Charles had never wanted to hate Alex—had never even imagined he could—but looking at her now, seeing the pure, unfiltered malice in her eyes, he realized he might be close.

She straightened, lifting her chin. “You’ll regret this.”

“No,” he said quietly. “I won’t.”

She stared at him, something almost desperate flickering across her features, before she masked it with indifference. “Fine,” she said. “Have it your way.”

Charles said nothing. He just watched as she turned, her heels clicking against the floor as she stormed toward the door. But before she left, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder.

“This isn’t over,” she said, voice eerily calm.

And then, she was gone.

Charles stood there for a long moment, his heart pounding, his fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms.

But then he exhaled, shaking his head, as if shedding the last remnants of whatever hold Alex had on him.

For the first time in a long time, he felt free.

Meanwhile not too far away,the hotel room was bathed in soft hues of twilight, the warm amber glow of the setting sun spilling through the sheer curtains. Ahaana sat curled up in a chair by the window, her phone resting idly on the armrest. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of a coffee mug, long gone cold. The day had been uneventful, yet her mind was anything but still. The ghosts of the past lingered in the shadows, whispering doubts, tugging at old wounds she had worked so hard to forget.

India.

Film city.

Even the thought of it sent a strange chill through her veins. It wasn’t fear—not exactly. It was the weight of something unfinished, something unresolved, lurking in the corners of her memory. The industry that had once been her playground had also turned its back on her when she had needed it the most. And yet, here she was, being offered a way back in.

What the fuck is happening? She sighed to herself, rubbing her temple.

The phone buzzed suddenly, pulling her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen, expecting yet another half-hearted PR email or a message from her manager. But instead, a name lit up the display, and for the first time that day, she felt something shift inside her.

Varun Dhawan.

She hesitated for only a second before answering. “Hello?”

“Finally! Madam has answered my call.” His voice was light, teasing, filled with the familiar warmth that had always made her feel like home.

Ahaana huffed out a small laugh. “Hi, Varun.”

“Hi, she says. That’s all I get? After ignoring me for days?”

“I haven’t been ignoring you.”

“Really? Because Karan and I were starting to think you had developed some severe phone phobia. Should we be concerned?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? Me? Never.” His tone dropped slightly, losing some of its playful edge. “Ahaana, you know why I’m calling.”

Her smile faltered. Of course, she did.

“You and Karan are relentless,” she muttered, leaning back against the chair.

“Because we believe in you,” he countered immediately. “And because we know you still love this. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

She exhaled slowly, staring out at the dimming sky. “It’s not that simple, Varun.”

“Yes, it is.” His voice softened. “You were born for this, Ahaana. And you know it. Whatever happened before—”

She stiffened slightly. “Let’s not talk about that.”

There was a pause, as if he was choosing his next words carefully. Then, he sighed. “Fine. But don’t let the past dictate your future. You’re not that person anymore.”

She wanted to believe that. She really did.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know. And we’re still your people, Ahaana.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. She had spent so long pushing everything away, convincing herself that she didn’t need anyone, that she had forgotten what it felt like to have people who cared. People who wanted her back.

Then, before she could respond, another voice chimed in from the background. “Has she said yes yet?”

Karan Johar.

Ahaana let out a small laugh despite herself. “Karan, are you eavesdropping?”

“I don’t eavesdrop. I supervise.”

Varun snorted. “He’s been pacing for the past ten minutes, by the way. I think he might actually combust if you say no.”

Karan’s voice came through again, a touch more serious this time. “Darling, you’re a star. Stop dimming your own light.”

Ahaana stared at the city skyline, a myriad of thoughts swirling inside her. But for the first time in a long time, the hesitation didn’t feel quite as heavy. Maybe Varun was right. Maybe Karan was right. Maybe it was time to stop running.

She inhaled deeply, a quiet moment of clarity settling over her. Then, she spoke.

“Okay.”

A beat of silence. Then Varun whooped so loudly she had to pull the phone away from her ear. “YES! Ladies and gentlemen, she’s back!”

Karan’s relieved sigh came through the speaker. “Finally. I was this close to staging a full intervention.”

Ahaana laughed, shaking her head. “You two are impossible.”

“And you love us for it,” Varun quipped.

She did. More than she cared to admit.

And maybe, just maybe, it was time to come home.

The gang had game nights far too often then they'd like to admit, Max and Kelly were ofcourse there, Ahaana was there, Carlos and Rebecca joined, Lando somehow always inserted himself in even though everytime he cheated and got himself uninvited. Even Alex Albon and Lily joined them from time to time, but couldn't make it this time and Charles was with them for the first time ever.

The night was young, but the energy in the room felt like the start of a Grand Prix itself—fast, loud, and filled with the potential for absolute disaster. The gang had gathered in Max’s hotel suite for a game night, and true to form, it had already descended into chaos.

“I’m telling you, Lando cheats,” Ahaana declared, pointing an accusatory finger at him as he smirked from his spot on the couch. “There is no way you won that round fairly.”

Lando, lounging back with all the ease of someone who had just scammed his way into victory, dramatically placed a hand on his chest. “How dare you? I am an honest man.”

“Honest, my foot,” Kelly interjected, shaking her head. “Even Charles saw it, didn’t you?”

Charles, who had been uncharacteristically quiet for the past few minutes, blinked. “Huh?”

“See? He wasn’t even paying attention,” Lando scoffed. “Probably too busy thinking about how free he is now that he’s finally dumped his psychotic ex.”

That got everyone’s attention.

Rebecca, who had been stacking poker chips, froze mid-motion. Max, who had been snickering at Lando’s misfortune, raised a brow. Ahaana, who had been preoccupied trying to figure out how Lando had managed to win five rounds in a row, looked up.

“You finally did it?” Carlos leaned forward, grinning. “You actually told Alex to get lost?”

Charles exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “It was not exactly smooth.”

“Of course, it wasn’t,” Max said. “She’s like an overly attached leech.”

Kelly winced. “Oof. Harsh, but fair.”

“I don’t even want to know the details,” Lando said, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Actually, no. I do. Tell us. In detail.”

Charles groaned. “Why are you all like this?”

“Because this is the most entertainment we’ve had all season,” Rebecca quipped. “Now spill.”

Charles rolled his eyes, but he recounted the story of his final conversation with Alex. The room responded accordingly—with gasps, laughter, and a few muttered curses aimed at Alex’s name. When he finished, Ahaana just shook her head, unimpressed.

“She’s delusional,” she said simply. “Absolutely delusional.”

“I would’ve paid money to see her reaction when you told her it was over,” Max admitted, grinning.

Charles smirked. “It was… satisfying.”

“Okay, enough about the she-devil,” Lando said, stretching. “Let’s get back to the game before Ahaana starts accusing me of cheating again.”

“You do cheat,” she said without hesitation.

“I do not—”

“Lando, you have a history of cheating at literally every game we’ve ever played,” Max said, unimpressed.

“I prefer to think of it as strategic improvisation.”

“Strategic bullshit,” Rebecca muttered.

The next hour was filled with absolute mayhem. There was yelling. There was a near-brawl between Carlos and Lando over an Uno reverse card. At some point, Kelly got so frustrated she threw a playing card at Max’s head, which only made him laugh harder. Charles, for the most part, found himself entertained just watching it all unfold.

Ahaana, in particular, seemed to come alive in the chaos. Her laughter was light, effortless, and every time she rolled her eyes at Lando or tossed a witty remark at Max, Charles found himself watching her just a little too long.

“Alright, alright,” Ahaana said, throwing her hands up in surrender after another brutal loss. “I need a break before I throw Lando out the window.”

“Jokes on you,” Lando said. “I’d land gracefully.” To which Max snorted.

Ahaana got up and stretched, and that’s when she casually dropped, “Oh, by the way, I officially start shooting for Jigra in 17 days.”

The room went silent.

“What?” Max was the first to react, blinking.

“You’re actually going back?” Lando added.

Rebecca gasped. “Finally! You’re returning to the big screen!”

Ahaana smiled, a little softer this time. “Yeah. It’s time.”

There was a beat of silence before Max, ever the older brother figure, crossed his arms. “Are you sure?”

She looked at him, understanding the weight behind his question. “I am.”

Max studied her for a long moment, then exhaled. “Alright. If anyone gives you trouble—”

“I know, I know.” She grinned. “I’ll call my attack dog Verstappen.”

He smirked. “Damn right.”

After a long round of jenga and then stuffing their faces in food, the last slice of pizza appeared on the table, and the room instantly went silent, all eyes locked on it.

Ahaana leaned forward, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Well, look who’s in the spotlight now.”

Carlos didn’t miss a beat. “I’ve been eyeing that slice for the last ten minutes.”

“Oh, please,” Ahaana shot back. “You just noticed it now because it’s the last one.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “You’re really gonna fight over pizza? This is an all-time low, even for you.”

“Shut up, Lando,” Carlos grumbled. “It’s mine.”

Max chuckled from the side. “This is gonna be good.”

Ahaana picked up the slice like it was some sort of prized possession. “I’m just saying, I’ve had a long day. So I think I’m entitled to this.”

Carlos shot up from his seat, but Ahaana held the slice just out of reach, her smirk widening. “Nice try.”

Max shook his head, watching the two of them. “This is the dumbest thing I’ve seen all week.”

Ahaana, sensing victory, took a deliberate bite of the pizza. “Too slow, boys.”

Lando leaned back, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”

Later that night, after the raucous energy had settled slightly, Charles found himself watching Ahaana from across the room. She was laughing at something Lando had said, her head thrown back, eyes crinkled in amusement. The dim lighting softened her features, casting warm shadows over her skin, making her look almost ethereal.

He didn’t know when it started, this quiet admiration of her. Maybe it was when she first walked into his life with that effortless confidence, like she belonged in every room she entered. Maybe it was when he realized she wasn’t just sharp-tongued but also deeply, frustratingly kind. Or maybe it was moments like this, when she wasn’t doing anything extraordinary—just laughing, existing—and yet, she managed to pull his entire attention like a force of gravity.

There was something in the way she carried herself—unapologetic, bold, yet with an underlying grace that was hard to ignore. She was an enigma, a storm and a lull all at once. And he was starting to realize he liked that about her. A little too much.

“Are you staring at Ahaana?”

Charles nearly choked on his drink. He turned sharply to see Max smirking at him, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“No,” he denied, a little too quickly.

Max hummed, unconvinced. “Sure. And I’m a level headed person when angered.”

Charles groaned. “Can you not?”

Max chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Oh no, mate. I definitely can.”

Across the room, Ahaana caught his gaze, a small, soft smile playing on her lips. Charles smiled back but quickly looked away because he was scared his blush would be way too evident, but the warmth on his face lingered and Ahaana caught it anyway, chuckling a bit at the very handsome man, which Charles heard.

Yeah. He was in trouble.

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ᝰ.ᐟ third part! hope you guys like it!

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