#as a fan i’m just so frustrated that i saw this and i was like Oh

[wonkizz]

to be or not to be: brat

jungwon x older!fmr genre: smut warnings: usage of noona, cunnilingus, fellatio, pretty vanilla smut (not great), begging, unprotected sex, cumming inside, fingering wc: 2.3k

Bratty pop stars weren't anything new to you. You’ve dealt with enough to know their type.

They party day and night to escape from the lives that they claim have plagued them.

You don’t fully understand because you’re not famous like them, but you understand the concept.

One minute you’re a regular person, the next you’re a star in the eyes of everyone.

You don’t blame them for acting out the way they do sometimes. You try to be understanding and listen to their frustrations, although you’re not a therapist and some of them definitely need that.

You’ve been assigned as a new manager for pop star Yang Jungwon.

He made his entrance to the entertainment industry 4 years ago and is just now having his “rebellious stage”.

Whatever, again, nothing new to you.

You’re meeting him for the first time today, anticipating the same as you always do.

Rude, closed off, not willing to talk.

So you can only be surprised as Yang Jungwon walks in, greeting you warmly.

“Hi, I’m Jungwon. It’s nice to meet you.”

You’re confused. Where’s the snide remarks? The cold exterior?

“It’s nice to meet you too, Jungwon.”

You both sit in the meeting about you being his new manager, but you’re barely paying attention.

You didn’t realize how attractive he is.

His features are strong but give off a unique softness.

His eyes are especially captivating.

They remind you of boba balls, funnily enough.

You’re soon tasked with driving Jungwon back to his apartment, as the meeting was his only schedule of the day.

The car ride is silent, until you break it with your curiosity.

“Not to be rude, but why aren’t you more…bratty?” You ask Jungwon who soon begins to giggle in his seat.

“The whole rebellious thing is just an act the company wanted to put me on to get attention.”

Oh, that would explain it.

“But you already have millions of fans, why the need for possible bad publicity?”

Jungwon shrugs, “I don’t know, to be honest. I just do what they tell me.”

“Well, you still probably struggle with this life sometimes, no?”

“I do! Like any other celebrity, I do. But I don’t see the point in acting out over it. It was my choice to become this and I have to own it.”

You smile, hoping he catches it, “That’s a very mature mindset to have, Jungwon.”

“Thank you, noona. Is it okay if I call you that?”

“Of course!” You nod, “I want you to be comfortable with me.”

“Can I be honest then?” Jungwon asks.

You nod, waiting.

“The reason you became my manager so suddenly is because.. I saw you at a party a few weeks ago and I thought you were pretty. I wanted to know who you were so I got my team involved.”

Your mind halts for a moment. He found you pretty?

Does he feel some type of way about you?

“I’m flattered, Jungwon. I haven’t heard that one before.”

“I’m sorry, you probably feel weirded out but I couldn’t help it.” Out of the corner of your eye, you swear he’s pouting, like he just got scolded.

“I’m not weirded out, Jungwon. Like I said, I’m flattered. I find you very handsome myself. When they said I’d be working with you, I got excited. Even though I thought you’d be a brat.”

That gets a chuckle out of him and you laugh along.

The conversation flows more easily after that.

When you reach the address that was put into your gps, you’re surprised to see your own complex come into view.

“You live here?” You ask incredulously, “There’s no way! I live here too.”

Jungwon looks just as amazed as you.

“That’s kinda convenient,” he says.

You park in the building's private garage before making your way to the elevator.

You’re both even more shocked when you reach for the same floor.

“Don’t tell me we’ve lived so close and never met?” Jungwon says.

“Maybe it’s fate,” you respond as he smiles at you.

When you reach Jungwon’s door, you point to your own door down the hall, “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

You wait until Jungwon is about to shut his door, when suddenly it opens again.

He looks almost shameful as he asks, “Do you wanna stay for dinner?”

You know you shouldn’t, he’s supposed to be your responsibility, but you can’t help yourself, “Sure.”

He lets you in, checking to make sure no one is present before closing the door.

His apartment is like the word cozy defined.

The furniture is minimal but not so little to feel empty.

It all matches with each other, quite fine taste if you say so yourself.

“I like it,” you praise, “it’s got a nice homey feel.”

You take your shoes off at the door as Jungwon offers you slippers.

“I actually don’t know what we’re having for dinner, I figured I would just take the chance and ask,” Jungwon says sheepishly, blushing.

You excuse him with a wave of your hand, “How about we just order out?”

“Sounds good,” he agrees.

You end up ordering Korean food, your favorites as well as Jungwon’s.

Once you’ve eaten and cleaned up, Jungwon suggests relaxing for a bit.

As you sit on his couch making quiet conversation, you think about the fact that you’ve never done this with other employers you’ve worked for.

Why is Jungwon the exception to that?

Is it because you’re attracted to him?

That’s so unprofessional, you know it is, but…is it that bad?

“What's going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Jungwon’s voice breaks your thoughts, snapping you out of your trance.

You don’t know what’s come over you, but you decide being bold is the way to go.

“I was thinking about you.”

He looks directly into your eyes, his own swarming with something you can’t pinpoint just yet.

“What about me?”

You laugh as you think about it, “I was expecting some angry, cold, closed off person. Yet I got warmth and kindness instead. It’s a nice change.”

“I was thinking about you too,” Jungwon says. “Thinking about how you’d sound, what you’d look like up close. How you’d greet me, what you’d think of me. Then I started thinking about other things once we met.”

“Like what?” You smile as you ask.

“Like what your voice would sound like when you’re moaning my name. Or what you’d feel like wrapped around me. I’m still thinking about it. I can’t stop and I know I shouldn’t but…”

As he trails off, the atmosphere instantly changes.

You would blush, if it weren’t for the fact that your mind was thinking the same things.

Slowly, you lift yourself onto your knees, making your way to where Jungwon sits.

His arms welcome you, wrapping around your waist as your lips slot against his.

Your hands make their way up, gripping the back of his neck as you sit right in his lap.

Lips moving ferociously, your tongues intersect.

You tug on the hair at the nape of his neck, making him groan.

His hands move down your waist, coming to grip your ass.

He kneads it, essentially grinding you back and forth over his lap.

You can feel his cock harden beneath his pants.

Pulling away, you stroke the sides of his face, smiling gently as he pants.

“You want me to make you feel good, Wonnie?”

“Please, noona. Need you so bad.”

You go down on your knees, rubbing Jungwon’s thighs as he waits in anticipation.

You unzip his jeans, pulling them down along with his underwear as he lifts his hips to help you.

His cock is too pretty for this world, at least in your eyes. The tip is shining with precum as you take the tip of your finger to rub it around, releasing even more.

Jungwon throws his head back, groaning pitifully.

You spit into your hand, lathering his cock with it, beginning to jerk him off.

“Please, noona, please.”

“What do you want?” You’re teasing him and he hates it, but he knows you won’t relent.

“Please suck my cock, noona. I’m begging.”

“Whatever my pretty boy wants.”

You take him in your mouth, slowly but surely.

Sucking the tip, you moan at the taste of his precum, becoming addicted to it almost immediately.

You begin to bob your head, taking him deeper until he hits the back of your throat.

He wants to grip your hair so badly, you can tell but he doesn’t want to hurt you. You take his hands, guiding them to your head as he gently grips your hair.

Jungwon uses his hands to gently guide you up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, noona. Feels so good.”

His moans and swears get louder as you continue. You swirl your tongue around his cock, focusing on the tip as his grip lightens, you use your hand to jerk what’s not in your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum, noona. Please let me cum,” Jungwon whines, bucking his hips, forcing you to take him deeper.

You slide him out of your mouth, continuing to jerk him off. “Cum in my mouth, Jungwon.”

Opening your mouth to present your tongue, Jungwon lets out a final huff, cumming in your mouth.

You swallow it eagerly and pump him through his orgasm.

His breathing is heavy as he calms down, but he’s not finished yet.

Jungwon pulls you up, pressing your lips together once more, tasting himself on your lips.

“Can we go to my room?” He asks.

You nod.

He takes your hand, leading you down the hall to his bedroom.

The door is open and unlike the living room, his bedroom is a bit more decorated. But not with furniture. He has figurines galore decorating his room.

You can’t help but find him even cuter than you did before.

Cute when he begs, and cute without even trying.

He lays you down on the bed gently, like you’re fragile and going to break.

“Can I please you, noona?”

“You can do whatever you want to me, Jungwon.”

He takes your words as a chance to discard your clothing as well as his own.

Your naked body is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He begins littering kisses across your neck and chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking on it while playing with the other.

He swirled his tongue around it until it hardened, then nipped at it, making you moan in delight.

Your hands find his blonde hair, gripping it tightly between your fingers.

He gives attention to the other nipple, doing the same as before, then leading his kisses down your stomach to your cunt.

“You’re soaking wet, noona. All for me?”

It’s his turn to tease you, but you don’t give into it.

“All for you, Won. Are you gonna please me?”

“Yes, noona.”

With that, he dives into your cunt. He licks through your lips, collecting your arousal on his tongue before swallowing it enthusiastically.

He brings his attention to your clit, nipping and sucking at the bud, making you jerk and moan.

As he swirls his tongue around it, a finger makes its way to your hole, entering you hesitantly.

You sigh at the feeling. It’s been a while since you had time to please yourself.

But it feels so much better when it’s someone else.

As Jungwon fingers you and plays with your cunt, your own hands are busy playing with your breasts,

tweaking your nipples to gain even more pleasure.

He adds another finger to the first, fingering you at a moderate pace.

You can feel yourself about to cum, and you warn Jungwon with a tug on his hair.

He continues regardless, wanting nothing more than for you to come in his mouth like he did.

You whine as your body thrashes lightly, the pleasure almost becoming too much.

“I’m gonna cum, Jungwon, please!”

His fingers speed up as well as his tongue and you’re cumming before you can even say something.

Jungwon takes all your come with vigor, the slurping sounds making you blush.

As you come down from your high, Jungwon pulls away from your cunt.

“You ready?” He asks.

You nod, “Give it to me.”

He pumps his cock a few times before rubbing it against your cunt, collecting your arousal on it.

Just when you’re about to find yourself begging, he finally pushes inside you.

You both groan, you at the intrusion and him at the tightness.

“Fuck, you’re sucking me in, noona.”

He lets you adjust for a few moments, before slowly starting to thrust.

In and out, in and out. All you hear is the sound of skin slapping against skin as your sweaty body slides against his.

You pull him down by his hair, connecting your lips in a searing kiss.

“Faster, Wonnie,” you say against his lips.

Jungwon speeds up, fucking you vigorously.

Your moans are getting louder and higher by the second, filling the room along with his grunts.

“‘M gonna cum in this pussy, right noona?”

“Yes Jungwon, yes! Cum inside, I need it!”

His pace is almost animalistic at this point, fucking your so hard your cunt starts to ache.

You hold onto him tightly as both your orgasms wash over you.

Feeling his cum fill you up is exhilarating, and he feels the same as your own orgasm splashes against him.

As he rides you both through your highs, you begin to calm down. That was the best orgasm you’ve had in a long time.

Jungwon leans down to kiss you gently. “Was it okay?”

You hum, “More than okay. I needed that.”

Jungwon lays down beside you as you both breathe somewhat heavily.

“So… how are we gonna explain this to the team?”

wonkizz 2025

[tricksterlatte]

Guys how did we cycle back to mean-spirited or passive-aggressive comments on fanworks not only being normalized but also as something people should accept lying down for literally any reason? If I wanted unnecessary concrit, I’d go read passive aggressive sticky notes left on the office fridge. It is rude to randomly critique or downright insult someone’s hard work done out of love for a fandom, actually!

[bandzboy]

re: seunghan i saw someone say that the original post the pic is from didn't say anything about cram school and it was clearly someone just stalking him which could very likely be true but at the same time idols do online college along with idol duties all the time so if he *was* retaking entrance exams i wouldnt see it as a sign that it's all over. sm is so shady though so i also wouldn't be surprised if it was like everyone thinks :/ but yeah i wouldnt take a pannchoa article at face value lol

yeah exactly that’s why i am not believing it 100% because i thought the same like idols study even when they are doing idol activities so it doesn’t actually mean he is out but like so much time has passed that it wouldn’t surprising if that was the case sigh

[animationismycomfort]

[seumyo]

a softie for sentimentality, bakugou katsuki.

Bakugou wears a bracelet. You’ve known about it for as long as you could remember, but only decided to acknowledge it now that you’re in your third year at UA, two weeks before graduation.

It wasn’t flashy or adorned with any kind of logo—just a simple, sturdy piece of metal with a stainless clasp that he seemed to wear all the time. You tilted your head as you studied it.

“You’ve had that bracelet for as long as I can remember,” you said, sitting down on his study chair. It’s a privilege to even set foot inside of his room without immediately being told (yelled) off, really.

Bakugou looked up from his book and glanced at you. “Yeah, and?”

“Is there, like, a story behind it?”

“No story,” he said with a shrug, but you weren’t entirely convinced.

“Really? That’s so bland. I thought there’d be like a gut-wrenching or life-changing story for it.”

He sat up from his bed with a huff, his eyes narrowing at you. “It’s just somethin’ I wear. What’s it to you?”

You raised your hands in mock surrender, a playful smile on your lips. “Alright, Mr. Mysterious. Keep your secrets.”

“Fuck off, dipshit.”

“Again with that! Why can’t you be nicer now that we’re graduating?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

-

But the conversation stuck to you.

It’s the day of graduation when you presented him with a small, handmade box. It was simple, made of sturdy cardboard decorated with his signature colors and an orange ribbon to match. Bakugou rose a brow.

“What’s this for?” He asks, holding it up like the box might explode at any given moment, though there was no bite to it.

“A box.”

“No shit,” he scoffs, “what’s in it?”

“Open it to find out!” You egged him on.

Bakugou sighs, opening the box with a focused pout. He went quiet when he saw what was inside.

“Ta-da! A bracelet,” you said, smiling. “For you. Thought you could use something new to switch things up.”

He held the stringed bracelet in his hand, looking at the material as if it would erupt in flames if he glared hard enough. It was a stark contrast to his metal one—brightly colored warm complementary beads with little charms that somehow still managed to feel like him. There was a red charm shaped like an explosion, a black bead with a skull design, and a small silver charm with an engraved kanji for “strength.”

“I’m not wearing this,” he said flatly.

It’s like your cartoonish heart balloon had suddenly been popped with a prickly needle.

“What? Why not? It’s cool!” you argued. “I even made it myself to really match you!”

“It’s not my style.”

“Sure it is. Look, it’s got black, silver, and even a little red—it screams Bakugou Katsuki.”

“I didn’t get you anythin’ as a parting gift,” he tells you.

“Don’t worry about it! It’s fine,” you replied, waving your hand in dismissal. “Just thought this’ll go with your metal bracelet.”

He nodded, though there was a somewhat frustrated pout on his expression, muttering something under his breath a soft “thanks,” and placed the gift back in the box, never actually letting you see him wearing it during that moment.

-

Years later, during a photoshoot for the yearly hero gala, Bakugou stood in front of the camera in his full Dynamight suit. The photographer adjusted the lights, snapping rapid shots as Bakugou struck his signature confident poses.

“Hold still,” the stylist said, adjusting his gauntlet slightly. Her eyes flicked to his wrist, and she paused. “Oh, that’s cute. Is that handmade?”

Bakugou blinked, following her gaze. Wrapped around his wrist, right next to his ever-present metal bracelet, was the colorful string bracelet you had made him all those years ago.

He stiffened slightly, but instead of taking it off, he shrugged. “Yeah. What about it?”

The stylist smiled warmly. “It’s a nice touch. Makes you seem... approachable. And quite frankly, it matches your suit.”

Bakugou snorted. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

-

When the photos surfaced online, fans quickly noticed the bracelet. Social media practically exploded that day.

Is Dynamight wearing a friendship bracelet??

A HANDMADE BRACELET ON DYNAMIGHT??

Guys, he’s worn this thing for YEARS. Check the old pictures! 🙂‍↔️

You, of course, caught wind of the news—because honestly, who wouldn’t when it took all social media platforms by storm? You saw the posts one evening while scrolling through your phone. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the photos. It was unmistakable—the bracelet you had made all those years ago.

Long after your UA days were behind you and your lives had taken you and Bakugou down different paths, the all-too-familiar bracelet made you smile sadly—more nostalgic happiness than actual sadness, really.

You stared at the screen, sighing quietly. You thought back to the last time you’d spoken, to the unspoken decision that had pulled you in different directions. You never thought something as small as a bracelet would still mean anything to him.

You didn’t even think you’d live to see the day he wears it, much less keep it after the years.

But there it was, bright and unapologetic on his wrist, a subtle reminder of a bond that hadn’t completely faded with time.

Somewhere across the city, Bakugou stood on a rooftop, the evening wind tugging at his hero uniform. He glanced down at the bracelet on his wrist, running his thumb over the frayed edges of the string. He smirked to himself, a quiet acknowledgment of the past and the person who’d given it to him.

“Guess you were right,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the wind. “It does scream Bakugou Katsuki.”

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[cherry-leclerc]

true temptation ☆ cl16

genre: sainz!reader, humor, nnn (mommy, i can explain), smut, fluff, whipped!charles, established relationship

word count: 2k

Your boyfriend makes a decision to participate in NNN, but immediately regrets it when he realizes just how difficult it is to stay away from you. 

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...car sex, riding, fingering

req!... probably the longest drabble i’ve done so far, but i hope you all enjoy! 

“You’re never going to last.”

The Monegasque’ eyes challenge you as you stand there unimpressed, hands on your hips. It had all started with him barging in on you and calling an ‘emergency couple’s meeting’.

Pacing the room, he goes back and forth, mumbling slowly, as if creating a plan up in his head. As far as you’re concerned, he was never going to actually do it. The man was obsessed with you. 

“Have a little faith in me,” he groans, hands brushing his hair back in despair. 

His so called - ‘emergency’ -  was that he would be taking part in No Nut November. No kissing. No sex. 

Or anything remotely related to it.

Walking up to him, you pat his chest. His hands find their way down to your waist, doe eyes staring back up at him.

“I will… But I’m going to make your head spin.”

-

He started off strong. He even felt a bounce in his step when he entered Ferrari Hospitality; he swore he felt like he was walking on sunshine. 

“You’re actually doing it?” 

Joris, too, had no hope for his friend. He had seen the way the green eyed boy would cling onto you as if it were the only thing he knew how to do. The way he talked about you, even when you weren’t around. 

“Oui. Why? Do you not think it’s a good idea?”

His friend tilts his head to the side as he thinks about it for a minute. “Not sure. All I know is that your and Pierre’s bet on who can last longer is never going to end up good. You can’t even go a single second without kissing her!”

“He said he could last longer than me? I have to prove him wrong….” His mind slips over to the last part. “I can live without her kisses for a month. It’ll be fine.”

The Ferrari driver makes his way to his team, properly analyzing what faults his car had and how he can make the best out of it. Frustrated, Charles rubs his eyes. 

“I will do the best I can, but I can’t promise a podium. Not with a car like this.”

Taking notes, Xavi nods as he walks away. “Hi, Xavi!” The sound of your voice instantly makes him ease up as he searches for you. His jaw goes slack.

“What are you wearing?”

Smiling wide with eyes crinkled, you rush over to him. “It’s only a dress.”

But it wasn’t just a dress. He knows you did it on purpose, wearing the little black dress he had last fucked you in. It’s the way it fans your thighs as the wind gently teases anyone passing by. 

“You’re supposed to be on my team. Are we really going to let Kika and Pierre win?”

Rolling your eyes, you tippy toe, naturally about to kiss him, but stop yourself before you do. He frowns. 

“You are sooo right!” You comedically screech as you slap your hands against your cheeks. “I do want us to win! Forget the kiss, my mistake.”

He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. 

“You’re a fucking nightmare.”

-

He’s a week in and he’s finally starting to lose his grip.

“You’re sweating buckets, mate,” Daniel points out as he lets out a loud laugh, doing a muppet dive. Charles unbuttons his collared shirt. 

“It’s the heat, it’s the heat.”

The Aussie furrows his eyebrows and he raises a hand up to feel the air. Light breeze. Shivering, you strut over to your boyfriend. 

“Can we leave? It’s getting too cold.”

And he hates the way that dress clings onto your body, your figure being completely shown off. Nothing but dirty thoughts have entered his mind from the moment he first saw you. 

“Sure.”

Kicking off your heels, you throw yourself onto the bed, face first. Shooo tirefff, you mumble against the sheets. He purposefully takes a seat across from you, knowing he’d be tempted to cross the line if he didn’t. 

Tossing over, you reach out for him. And he’s about to turn you down, but he notices the way your nose is painted pink - your cheeks, too - and soft, tired eyes meeting his. His heart melts at the sight. So, he reminds himself that a hug with his girlfriend is nothing bad.

Climbing onto his lap, you dig your face into his chest, short dress riding up. He physically has to stop himself from letting out a loud moan. Instead, he traces his fingers up and down your spine. You shudder.

“Are you sure we can’t fuck, Charlie?”

Right there, is his breaking point. He’s ready to kiss you, finger you, eat you out, fuck you, anything. But you giggle teasingly as you pull back, a wicked smile drawn. 

“Whoops. Never mind.”

-

He’s known you wouldn’t make this easy on him. It’s almost as if you’ve made it your mission to screw with his head - and while he would normally love it - in this case, it was killing him.

Dance with me, you would beg him and you sway in front of him. It was a rare moment of it just being you two, so naturally, you took advantage of it. You showered, did your skincare, watched a movie, but the moment you heard Sparks by Coldplay echoing from his phone, you immediately jumped up like a bunny.

Then, his heart would melt, and melt, and melt - and melt some more. It would only be a reminder of what a perfect match you both were. He would memorize your face once again; no makeup, eyebags due to long travels with him, a small cut on the bridge of your nose from earlier when Lando had accidentally hit you with his frisbee, pink lips he so desperately missed. 

He would oblige, the way you knew he would. He found home within you as you would both sway, your feet on top of his as he would lead you both, you having to do nothing but close your eyes and feel his heartbeat. And it was so sweet to know that it was only yours.

I love you, he would remind you as if he didn’t already tell you a million times before. As if it were a way to make up for all this. And you would say-

“I know.”

-

“How are you keeping up?” 

The Frenchman smiles proudly as he takes a sip of water. “I’m actually doing fine. You?”

Charles gulps, green eyes following to where you stand next to Kika.

“Good.”

-

“It’s actually not that hard.” 

Kika and you had been touching up on your boyfriend's challenge. She would say it as if it were the easiest thing. You slump against your chair.

“That’s not fair… Mine has the most beautiful face ever!”

“Hey!”

You squeal as she aims a pillow at you. I’m sorry! The Portuguese laughs too, sticking her tongue out. You sigh. “I do miss him, though.”

“Yeah…”

“Have we seriously just been talking about how horny we are?”

“Don’t say it like that!” She bites her lip. “We have.”

“Why did they ever think this was going to be a good idea?”

Propping her arm against the table, she beams. “It’s not, but I heard from Pierre about how much Charles is struggling.” You groan.

“Yeah, well that’s nothing but his own fault.”

-

It’s now been 2 weeks and he’s already given up. His pleads were convincing. 

C’mon, baby. Let me fuck you.

It’s been too long. I miss the way you taste.

But you stood your ground. 

“No, no, no.” You shook your head, running away. Seeing Carlos, you hide behind him. “You brought this onto yourself! Now you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Confused, Carlos questions you both on what you’re talking about. It’s just that your sister won’t let me-

“Stop! That’s my brother!”

The Monegasque shrugs as Carlos turns to you. What is he talking about? Your face burns up as you brush him off. “Nada, nada - he’s just being a jerk.” And so, he believes it and walks away, too tired to deal with any of it.

 You let out a squeal when Charles plunges towards you. He picks you up, carrying you to his motorhome.

“Let go!”

Dropping you onto his small bed, he stares down at you like a lion salivating over their prey. You suppress a whimper, clamming your legs shut. He raises a brow.

“You’re telling me you don’t want the same thing I do? I promise I’ll do it just the way you like it.”

Closing your eyes, you can picture it. You can feel him already, pressed up against you. You do want it, you do. Opening your eyes, you shake your head. 

“Just two more weeks to go.”

-

“We lost.” Taken aback, you snort. What do you mean? Your friend blushes before dragging you to the corner. “I mean that last night Pierre and I went out for dinner and one thing led to another and-”

“Okay, okay, I caught on!”

Giggling, she shimmies her shoulders towards you. “What are you going to do?” You pout as you stare back blankly. She sighs. “I’m talking about you and Charles! I mean you both already won - you could do whateverrrr you want.”

Stuttering, you cough before saying, “You made it loud and clear, thank you very much.”

-

Shivering, you climb into the passenger's seat of his Pista as you thank him for opening and closing your door. As soon as he climbs in, he turns on the heater. The Monaco streets were lonely, everyone already in their homes, sheltering from the light rain that had picked up.

“You want to pull over?”

You sound so sweet asking that he almost thinks he’s hallucinating or that any second now you’re going to surprise him with a, just kidding!

But he quickly could tell you weren’t and he doesn’t want to let the moment slip away. Not when he’s been waiting for so long. Screw it if he lost.

Pulling over on the side of an isolated street, he hauls you onto his lap. You thank the universe for skirts. Pushing your panties aside, his long fingers slide against your wet folds. You let out a wail.

“Fuck, you don’t know how I’ve missed hearing you.” He slides two fingers in. “Feeling you.”

Dazed, you find yourself grinding on his fingers. Every single time they would brush against your g-spot, you would kiss him harder. He slips them out, bringing them up to his lips. 

And he moans in a way you’ve never heard before. So fucking sweet. Blushing, you lean in to kiss him. You can still taste yourself.

“Charles, please - do something.”

Never during your entire relationship has he ever fucked you as hard as he did that day. His grip on your waist hurt, but it hurt so good. His cock would continuously brush against where you needed him the most, so much so, he left you seeing stars. Drooling all over him, you hold onto his shoulders, bouncing up and down rapidly.

“So tight – So warm.” He chokes when you ground your hips deeper. “So fucking good.”

Then, he finishes inside of you. His fingers slide down to your clit as he rubs it. You finish with a loud cry. Kissing you one last time, he slaps your ass. You scowl playfully.

“Admit it - you’ve missed it, too.”

-

“Just a few more weeks and you would have won!” Pierre clicks his tongue before kicking his legs up against the table in front of him. Charles rolls his eyes.

“I’m never doing that again.”

Kika smacks the Frechman’s thigh. “You both lost, remember? Only, you did before him.” The Monegasque quickly springs up.

“You’re saying we won?”

“You’re acting as if this were the fucking Olympics, Cha.” You drag him by the arm to sit back down as he starts celebrating his ‘accomplishment of the year’.

“What are we clapping about?”

Your brother strolls over to an open seat as he opens up a water bottle. Hurriedly, you screech, “Nothing! Only that the season is almost over-”

“He’s yapping about how he won No Nut November, except, he didn’t. 2 weeks and fucking does not count.”

“You did what?”

Jumping up, Charles trips over his feet as he tries backing away from the angry Spaniard. “I think I forgot my phone! I’ll be right back!”

Chasing after him, your brother yells out, “That’s my baby sister, cabrón!”

[amirasainz]

hooola!! absolutely love the baby alonso series and i’d love to see her playing with penelope maybe?? or one of lando’s nieces!!

hope u have a great day 🫶🫶

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

@piastappies

Best friends forever

The bustling paddock was alive with the hum of race car engines, chatter from teams, and fans eagerly seeking autographs. Amidst the energy of the Formula 1 weekend, two tiny figures stood out—Yn and Penelope.

Yn, with her sparkling pink bike that had streamers hanging off the handlebars, was busy adjusting her helmet. Penelope, on her equally dazzling sparkling purple bike, was already riding in circles, her giggles carrying through the air.

"Come on, Yn!" Penelope called, a teasing grin on her face. "You're so slow!"

Yn puffed up her cheeks in mock frustration, tightening the strap on her helmet. "I'm not slow! I just wanna make sure my helmet is perfect! Safety first, P!"

Penelope stopped her bike and crossed her arms dramatically. "We’re in the paddock, silly. No cars are gonna hit us!"

Yn finally climbed onto her bike, wobbling for a moment before finding her balance. "Fine! But you're not gonna win the race!" she said with determination, pedaling furiously to catch up.

The two girls zipped past team garages, their bikes glittering under the sun, leaving a trail of laughter behind them. Engineers paused to watch, some waving and smiling, others snapping quick photos of the adorable sight.

"Careful, girls!" Charles called out, leaning against a garage wall with a cup of coffee.

"We’re being careful!" Penelope yelled back, her voice high-pitched and confident.

"Yeah!" Yn chimed in. "We’re super fast, like Max and Fernando!"

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, just don’t beat them in qualifying, okay?"

The girls burst into laughter, though neither truly understood what qualifying was.

---

Later, Yn and Penelope decided to ditch their bikes and explore on foot. Hand-in-hand, they skipped down the paddock, their little sneakers slapping against the ground in perfect rhythm.

"We should go see the snacks table!" Penelope suggested, her eyes sparkling.

"Snacks!" Yn cheered. "I hope they have gummy bears. And cookies!"

As they approached the Red Bull hospitality, Max was leaning on a railing, chatting with Sergio. He spotted the duo and immediately straightened up, his tough demeanor softening into a wide grin.

"Hey, what are you two up to now?" Max asked, crouching down to their level.

"Snacks!" Penelope declared with a triumphant fist in the air.

Yn nodded eagerly. "Gummy bears!"

Max laughed. "Ah, I see. Well, the snacks are this way, but no eating too much, okay? I need Penelope to cheer for me later, not fall asleep!"

"I’m gonna cheer for Yn’s dad too!" Penelope said proudly, looking at Yn.

"Me too!" Yn added, squeezing Penelope’s hand.

Max ruffled Penelope's hair, a rare, tender smile on his face. "Good girls. Now go on, and don’t cause too much trouble."

---

The next stop on their grand paddock adventure was Fernando’s garage. The two girls peeked in cautiously before scampering inside. Fernando was sitting on a stool, studying data on a screen, but the moment he saw the two tiny intruders, his face lit up.

"Ah, mis pequeñas amigas!" Fernando exclaimed, opening his arms wide.

Yn ran straight to him, throwing her arms around his leg. "Papa! We’re having the best day ever!"

Fernando chuckled, scooping Yn up onto his lap. "I can see that. And Penelope, are you taking good care of my little one?"

Penelope nodded solemnly. "Of course. We’re best friends!"

"Bestest friends!" Yn echoed, reaching out to hold Penelope’s hand again.

Fernando looked at them with soft eyes. "You know, seeing you two like this reminds me of why we do all this. It’s not just about winning—it’s about family and having fun."

"Does that mean you’ll let us ride your car next time?" Penelope asked, her face completely serious.

Fernando laughed heartily. "Not quite, pequeña, but maybe one day."

---

As the day wore on, Yn and Penelope found new ways to entertain themselves. They drew with chalk on the pavement, leaving colorful hearts and stars for everyone to see. They played hide-and-seek around the motorhomes, with Lando and George willingly pretending not to see their bright clothes sticking out from behind crates.

At one point, the two girls sat on a patch of grass, sharing a juice box they had "borrowed" from the hospitality.

"Do you think we’ll ever drive like our dads?" Yn asked, her face thoughtful.

Penelope tilted her head. "I think so. But only if the cars are purple and pink."

Yn nodded solemnly. "Definitely."

---

By the time the sun began to set, the paddock had grown quieter, but the two girls were still full of energy. They convinced Max and Fernando to sit down with them for one last activity: a tea party.

Fernando looked hilariously out of place, holding a tiny plastic teacup between his large fingers, while Max did his best to balance a tiara Penelope had insisted he wear.

"More tea, sir?" Yn asked in an exaggerated posh accent, holding out an empty teapot.

"Why, thank you, madam," Fernando replied, playing along with a dramatic bow of his head.

Max sighed, though he couldn’t hide his grin. "This tea is excellent, Penelope. Did you make it yourself?"

Penelope giggled. "It’s pretend, Papa!"

"Ah, of course," Max said, nodding seriously.

---

As the day came to an end, Yn and Penelope finally started to tire, their eyes drooping as they sat on a bench together, wrapped in a shared blanket.

Fernando and Max watched from a distance, their competitive natures completely set aside as they admired their daughters.

"They really are something, aren’t they?" Fernando said quietly.

Max nodded, a rare softness in his gaze. "Yeah. Makes you realize what really matters."

The two girls held hands even in their sleep, their innocent friendship a bright light in the often chaotic world of Formula 1.

[0omillo0]

Hi! I’m a big fan of your fics! I wanted to put in an angst/hurt/comfort request because I’m a sucker for angsty fics. So with Bangchan (or Changbin, I’ll let you pick, gosh I love them both) the reader has been getting weird cryptic messages from their ex and it’s turning into some serious stalker behavior. So one night as they’re walking home they can tell they’re being followed and they call Chan or Binnie to come pick them up. And there’s like mild confrontation but of course it always ends with comfort 🫣

Calling you clingy

BangChan x Reader

Angst/Hurt/Comfort, Suspense

Warnings: Mentions of stalking, verbal altercation, jealousy, swearing, mild violence, fluff ending

a/n: I hope you don’t mind I included this in my “calling you clingy series”!! I really like how this came out so please reblogs are really appreciated <3 (also thank you for appreciating my fics 🥹)

-

You never thought your life could spiral into something out of a thriller movie. It started innocuously enough—texts from your ex, cryptic but seemingly harmless. A “hope you’re doing well” here, a “just saw this and thought of you” there. You blocked the number, not giving it a second thought.

But the messages didn’t stop.

They got worse.

“You think he’s better than me? He’s not. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“I saw you walking home yesterday. Looked cold—don’t forget your scarf next time.”

“We’re not over, Y/N. We never will be.”

Each time, they came from a different number. And each time, the messages left a pit in your stomach.

It was getting harder to ignore, and you couldn’t keep this from Chan anymore. When you finally worked up the courage to show him, you thought he’d take it seriously. You thought he’d help you feel safe.

You were wrong.

“I don’t get it!” Chan snapped, pacing back and forth in the small living room. His voice was sharp, his hands gesturing wildly as if the physical act of moving could help him make sense of things. “Why don’t you just block him?”

“I already did!” Your voice cracked with frustration. “Every time I block him, he just finds another number, another way to contact me!”

“Well, maybe you’re giving him a reason to think he can keep trying!” The words came out harsher than Chan intended, but he didn’t take them back.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your tone was defensive now, your blood boiling.

Chan threw his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know, Y/N! You tell me! Did you say something? Do something? Give him a reason to think there’s still a chance?”

Tears pricked your eyes, the sting of his accusation making your chest tighten. “Are you seriously blaming me for this?”

“Why are you even talking to me about it?” Chan’s voice rose, his frustration spilling over into anger. “Maybe you like the attention!”

You froze, his words hitting you like a slap to the face.

“Excuse me?” you whispered, your voice trembling with hurt.

Chan didn’t stop. His own insecurities—his jealousy, his stress, his need to control the uncontrollable—took over. “You’re always so clingy anyway! Maybe that’s why he can’t let go!”

The room fell silent.

Your wide eyes searched his face for any sign of regret, but all you saw was the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders rose and fell with every labored breath.

“Clingy,” you repeated, your voice hollow.

Before Chan could say another word, you turned, grabbing your coat and storming out of the apartment.

The cold air hit you like a wall, but it did little to cool the heat of your anger. Chan’s words echoed in your mind, each repetition cutting deeper.

Clingy. Maybe you like the attention.

You walked aimlessly, your feet carrying you far from the apartment. The city lights blurred in your vision, and the once-crowded streets felt eerily quiet.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Without thinking, you pulled it out, expecting an apology from Chan.

It wasn’t him.

“Still think you’re safe? You’re not. He won’t protect you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the weight of dread settling in your stomach.

“You can run, Y/N, but you can’t hide. I’ll always find you.”

You stopped walking, your breath hitching as you glanced around. The streetlights above flickered, and for the first time, you noticed how empty the street was.

The sound of footsteps echoed behind you.

Panic surged through your veins. Your hands trembled as you dialed Chan’s number, your fingers fumbling over the screen.

“Please pick up,” you whispered, your eyes darting around for any sign of movement.

The footsteps grew louder.

“Hello?” Chan’s voice came through the line, tight with tension.

“Chan, I think someone’s following me,” you blurted out, your voice barely above a whisper.

The line was silent for a split second before Chan spoke, his tone immediately shifting to one of urgency. “Where are you?”

You rattled off your location, unable to keep the tremor out of your voice.

“I’m coming. Stay on the line. Don’t hang up.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Chan, I’m scared.”

“I know, baby,” he said softly. “Just keep talking to me. I’ll be there soon.”

By the time Chan’s car screeched to a halt at the curb, you were standing under a flickering streetlight, your phone clutched tightly in your hand.

The shadowy figure that had been trailing you lingered in the distance, but as soon as Chan stepped out of the car, the person darted into the darkness.

Chan ran to you, his eyes scanning your face and body for any signs of harm. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

You shook your head, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “I don’t know what to do, Chan. He won’t stop.”

Chan pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe. “I’m here now. He’s not going to touch you. I promise.”

As he held you, his mind raced. He couldn’t let this go on.

The next morning, Chan woke with a new resolve. While you were still asleep, he contacted a private investigator he trusted. He needed to find out who this person was and put a stop to it for good.

That afternoon, while you sat curled up on the couch in Chan’s hoodie, trying to calm the storm of emotions in your chest, he entered the room with a determined expression. He knelt in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“Y/N,” he started softly, his voice a mix of guilt and resolve. “I called someone—a private investigator. They’re going to help us figure out who this is, where they’re coming from, and how to stop them. I won’t let this continue.”

Your eyes widened. “Chan, are you sure? That sounds… expensive. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to fix this—”

“I want to,” he interrupted firmly. “I have to. I let you down yesterday. I let my jealousy and stress get in the way of being there for you, and I can’t forgive myself for that.” His voice broke slightly, but he steadied himself. “This isn’t about me. It’s about keeping you safe.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were from relief, not fear. “Thank you,” you whispered, throwing your arms around his neck.

Chan held you close, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’re going to get through this together.”

Over the next few days, the investigator worked quickly, piecing together details from the messages. You provided everything you had: screenshots, numbers, the few times you’d caught glimpses of someone following you. Chan stayed by your side through it all, refusing to leave you alone even for a moment.

The tension between you two eased slightly, though guilt lingered in his eyes whenever he thought about his harsh words during the argument. Every night, he held you close, whispering reassurances that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

Finally, the investigator called with a breakthrough.

“You’re not going to believe this,” the investigator said, his voice serious over the phone.

Chan put the call on speaker so you could hear. “What did you find?” he asked, gripping your hand tightly.

“Your ex wasn’t working alone,” the man said. “We traced the latest numbers back to a burner phone, and security footage from a nearby electronics store showed him purchasing it… with a friend.”

Your blood ran cold. “A friend?”

“Yeah. Someone who knows your daily routine. Someone who’s close to you.”

Chan stiffened. “What do you mean?”

The investigator hesitated. “I mean, this isn’t just a stalker situation. Your ex had help from someone who’s been feeding him information about you.”

Your mind raced, replaying every interaction you’d had over the past few months. A coworker? A neighbor? Someone from your social circle?

Then it hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Lena,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Chan frowned. “Your friend Lena?”

“She’s not just a friend,” you explained, your hands trembling. “We used to be really close. But after I started dating you, she got… weird. Jealous, maybe? She’d always talk about how she missed how things used to be before you.”

Chan’s jaw tightened. “Are you saying she’s been helping your ex?”

“It makes sense,” you said, your voice cracking. “She always knew where I’d be. She’s the only one who would know my new number after I changed it.”

The realization left you both stunned.

Later that night, Chan’s phone buzzed with another call from the investigator.

“We’ve confirmed it,” he said. “Lena’s been in contact with your ex for months. She was the one who gave him your work address, your new number, and even the times you’d be walking home alone.”

Anger flared in Chan’s chest, and he stood abruptly, pacing the room. “What the hell is wrong with her? Why would she do this?”

“She was bitter,” the investigator replied. “She felt replaced, like you’d abandoned her for your new relationship. She saw your ex as someone who felt the same way—someone who wanted to ‘take back’ what he’d lost.”

You sank into the couch, overwhelmed by the betrayal. “I can’t believe this. She pretended to care about me this whole time.”

Chan crouched in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. “She’s not going to hurt you anymore,” he said firmly. “Neither of them are.”

The next day, Chan worked with the investigator to ensure that the police were involved. Lena and your ex were both taken into custody, thanks to the overwhelming evidence collected against them.

When the police informed you that your ex had admitted to planning to confront you the night Chan came to pick you up, your blood ran cold.

But Chan was there, holding your hand through it all, his unwavering presence grounding you.

“You’re safe now,” he reminded you, his voice steady. “They’re not going to hurt you again.”

As the weeks passed, life slowly returned to normal. The weight on your shoulders lightened, and the constant fear that had gripped you finally loosened its hold.

One night, as you sat curled up on the couch with Chan, you finally voiced the question that had been lingering in your mind.

“Do you think I’m clingy?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chan froze, then turned to you with wide eyes. “What?”

“Back then,” you continued. “When you said I was clingy—”

“I didn’t mean it,” he interrupted quickly, his voice filled with regret. “I was stressed and angry and jealous, and I took it out on you. But it wasn’t true, Y/N. None of it was.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his gaze earnest. “You’re not clingy. You’re loving and thoughtful and everything I could ever ask for. And I’m so, so sorry I made you feel like you were anything less than perfect.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief. “I love you, Chan.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms.

tags @intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght

[pickingupmymercedes]

Ageless wonder - Lewis Hamilton

warnings: mentions of alcohol, Toto being an ass (himself)

genre: fluff and teasy Lewis

wordcount: +1k

a/n: I had to, 'shelf life' my ass

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Waking up with a hangover wasn’t new to me, Lewis was the one non-alcoholic Tequila master in the relationship after all. But waking up feeling like my skull is auditioning for the lead role in Crash: The Musical, though? That’s special.

My tongue feels like I licked an old battery, my hair probably looks like I got electrocuted, and the sun streaming through the window is public enemy number one.

And still somewhere through the haze of pain, I catch a whiff of something heavenly: Lewis’s cologne.

Thank God. Home.

There’s a low chuckle near me, and the bed dips slightly. “Morning, superstar.”

I pry one eye open. Lewis is sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a grin that’s somewhere between amusement and concern, though he’s annoyingly chipper, like he hasn’t just watched me drag myself through hell disguised as a bottle of – real – tequila.

“Why are you so loud?” I croak, turning over to bury my face in the pillow.

“I’m not loud; you’re sensitive” he shoots back, that stupid chuckle rumbling again. “Rough night”

I flip him off without looking, which only makes him laugh harder. “Rough week actually.”

And it has been rough.

Toto, king of ominous sound bites, had suggested, in the newly launched Mercedes book, that Lewis might’ve been near his “shelf life.”

As if Lewis wasn’t out there fighting the excuse of a car they couldn’t understand how to work around, pulling phenomenal races from P10, setting twelve fastest laps, lapping four-tenths faster than his own teammate at some points.

And if there’d been more laps? Well, Toto might’ve had to eat his words on a very public stage.

I’d been at the race, of course. Watching from the garage, headphones clamped tight over my ears, my hands clasped together until they ached. I’d barely breathed until he crossed the line in P2, the garage erupting around me.

The relief was immediate, but it didn’t last.

I caught the frustration in his shoulders as he climbed out of the car, the way it clung to him during the cooldown drive to the podium interview and those mandatory interviews.

He’d wanted more.

He hadn’t said anything directly to me, of course—he never does when the sting is fresh. But I know the weight when I see it.

It’s in the way he’s still tense even as he waves to the fans, in the measured, overly polite answers he gives in interviews.

Watching him absorb the quiet digs, I wanted to storm the press room and defend him, consequences be damned. But what good would it do? Still, the knot in my chest wouldn’t loosen until I saw him smile again.

And then Toto had gone and made it worse. Of course. Lewis’s teammate was “from another planet,” while Lewis was just working with a “super strong car.”

I’d had to sit there and smile politely, even though every part of me wanted to grab Toto by the collar and shake him.

It wasn’t my fight, though—not really. It was Lewis’s. And Lewis, being Lewis, handled it like a pro. Calm. Measured.

Acknowledging his own faults while subtly calling out the micro-aggressions of all sorts he’s dealt with his whole career.

That’s my man. Too classy for this world.

But let’s be real: the post-race party in Vegas? That was for me. Not that I’d ever admit outside of our bedroom, but seeing him relaxed, smiling, surrounded by people who adore him? That was the real victory.

And the price for that? Me, nursing the world’s worst hangover and Lewis, laughing at my expense. Classic.

His voice broke through my thoughts. “You really went for it last night. Celebrating like you won something.”

“I did win something,” I mumble into the pillow.

“Oh yeah?” His tone is teasing, and I can feel his grin without even looking.

I finally roll onto my back, squinting at him like he’s the sun itself. “Bragging rights,” I said. “Because you…” I pointed vaguely in his direction, “…are a goddamn force of nature. And because everyone who said otherwise is a dumbass.”

He shakes his head, amused, but there’s a softness in his eyes now.

“And,” I add, smirking despite the pounding in my head, “I won tequila shots with Miles. That’s also worth celebrating.”

“Clearly.” He gestures vaguely at my disheveled state, and I kick at him weakly with one foot.

He dodges easily, then leans back, holding his phone up with a sly smile.

“Pot, meet kettle,” I muttered, rolling onto my stomach and burying my face in the pillow. Except that pillow smelled like him, which was entirely too distracting.

“What’s got you so chirpy this morning anyway?” I mumbled into the pillowcase, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

He had an uncanny ability to bounce back after days like these, his body apparently immune to exhaustion. I would’ve hated him for it if I didn’t love him so much.

“Just enjoying the comments on your last post,” he said nonchalantly.

That got my attention. I lifted my head to look at him. “What post?”

Lewis didn’t answer. Instead, he smirked and held up his phone, just out of my reach.

“Oh, come on,” I groaned, dragging myself upright. My head protested the movement, but curiosity outweighed the pain. “What did I do?”

“You don’t remember?” His grin widened. “It’s good. Really good.”

“Lewis.” I reached for his phone, but he leaned back, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“I think it’s fair to say the caption was… pointed,” he said, drawing the word out.

“Pointed at what?” My patience was wearing thin, and my curiosity was spiraling into mild panic.

He finally handed me the phone, and the moment I saw the screen, the haze of my hangover lifted just enough to make room for a new emotion: horror.

The photo was innocent enough—just me and Lewis at some ridiculous Vegas afterparty, his arm slung around my shoulders, both of us grinning like idiots. But the caption. Oh, the caption.

“All in on ageless wonder”

And my jaw drops. “Oh my God.”

Lewis is laughing now, low and warm and entirely too entertained. “You went all in, babe.”

I scroll through the comments, and my stomach flips. Hundreds of thousands of likes. Thousands of comments. Most are supportive—#GoatHamilton is trending, apparently—but a few are... less so.

I can’t help it but laugh. “Drunk me is bold.”

“Drunk you is sincere” he corrects, taking the phone back and locking the screen.

“Toto kinda deserves it.” I sit up, wincing as the motion sends my head spinning. “How long can I leave it up before PR calls me personally to tell me I’m banned from every Mercedes garage on Earth?”

Lewis checked his watch like he was genuinely considering it. “I’d say we’ve got a couple hours before the panic sets in. Maybe three if I keep ignoring my phone.”

I grin at him. “Reckless. I like it.”

He grins back, and for a moment, it’s just us. No hangovers, no drama, no shelf-life bullshit. Just Lewis and me, in sync as always.

He kissed me then, and for a moment, the lingering fog of tequila and regret melted away. All that mattered was him—his warmth, his steadiness, his love that he didn’t have to put into words because it was always there, in everything he did.

Lewis always had a way of grounding me, of silencing the noise in my head with something as simple as a kiss. It wasn’t just the feel of his lips—it was the way his hands cupped my face, anchoring me to him, the unspoken reassurance in the way he held me.

He didn’t need words to remind me that we were a team, that no matter how loud the world got, we’d always have this.

And I knew—I’d burn through a thousand hangovers just to feel this peace

“How much trouble are you when Toto sees that post?” I ask after a few moments of us studying each other.

He smirks. “Don’t worry.”

“Remind me to confiscate my phone next time I drink.” I lean back against the headboard, closing my eyes again.

“Not a chance,” he says, and there’s so much affection in his voice it makes my chest ache.

I peek at him through one eye. “You like chaos too much.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs, still grinning. “Or maybe I just like you.”

Damn him.

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling now, the pain in my head fading to the background. Lewis has that effect on me. He always has.

And as much as I want to give him hell for waking me up, for teasing me, for letting me post that caption in the first place, I can’t bring myself to care.

Because at the end of the day, Lewis is Lewis. And he doesn’t need anyone to tell him who he is.

Although I’ll keep on shouting it from the rooftops if I have to.

Shelf life, my ass.

_____________________________________________________________

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[soft-persephone]

You know You Love It

MDNI // Explicit!!! // WC: 1.5K// Warnings: slight dom sub dynamics, but not really, somone making you do things you don’t want to do, you know how consent works. I’m not your Momma. // mastierlist

AN:// this was way shorter than I thought it would be.

Real AN://, this fic is heavily inspired by @megamindsecretlair go check out her Terry Fics if you haven’t already. This one is def exist becaue of the recent one she put out based of a request.

Terry was tired.

He had a long day at his new job; he wasn't sure if he cared about it.

How long this would last, he wasn’t sure, but he had a reason to have one now. You were good for it.

He sighed when he saw you in bed, still sleeping. The sheets were rumpled, no corner left unturned from his side to your side. You were currently on your stomach, leg turned up towards your face and your other leg hanging off the side of the bed. Your eyebrows fitfully scrunched together, your lips pulled tight in a frown.

Bad sleep was still sleep, and you needed every bit you could get.

He took a shower, taking his time to wash the frustration of the day off of him.

When he was done, he walked into you now on your side with one hand by your face. Your other guarding your side.

As if hearing the towel pat against the skin, or maybe it was the soft rustle of his t shirt and loose pajama pants sliding along his skin, but your eyes fluttered open.

“T,” you softly called out, your voice thick with sleep, “is that you?”

“Yeah, I just got home.” He sat on your side of the bed, reaching out to touch you wherever was closest. He caressed the skin of your leg. Your skin was always so soft, if not a little warm. Despite only having a tank and the slimmest shorts you could find to keep cool because you can’t stand being hot at night, you were still hot to touch. Somehow, no matter how little clothing you wore, it didn’t work.

You sat up, and moved towards him. Straddling his lap.

“You don’t have to get up. You should sleep.”

“Don’t want to.” Your tone was playfully apathetic. “We can sleep later.”

He clenched his jaw, fighting to not show his frustration. No matter how wide your eyes got, how you batted your eyelashes at him, you were putting on. Always putting on.

You knew when you were irritating him and showing it only made you put on worse.

“What are you doing?” He said even and calmly as he could, hiding the bite in his voice.

You slid down onto your knees in from of him. Your expression soft and innocent.

“You promised.” You batted your eyes up at him.

He kept his gaze even and cool, unwavering.

“Terry.” You pleaded.

“Okay, just. . .” He sighed. . .“okay.”

You flashed your teeth in a smile that was oh so pretty. Your shoulders relaxing into a normal position your eyes fighting their sunken state, showing in the sweetest way just how alive and in it you were.

How could he said no no to that.

Not breaking his firm steady gaze, he pulled himself out of his pants, already half hard.

Despite your sweet face, it was cruel how slowly you dragged your tongue from the base to tip. Tenderly, you massaged the tip with your tongue, lathing the bit of precum before placing small wet kisses on it.

His hips dipped on the bed and his back arched slightly, his dick bobbed against your lips, eager for more.

“Cut-cut that out.” He stammered fighting to keep his voice stern. “Just put it in your mouth.” He managed to scold you.

You ignored him, placing wet kisses down his length, your breath fanning across his sensitive skin with each one. Slow, so terribly slow, you lathe at his balls with your tongue.

“Fuuhck.” He balled his fist at his sides, squeezing the sheets so tight his knuckles were two shades lighter.

He didn’t want to get so loud because that shit only made you worse, but when they were finally wet to your liking, gingerly wrapping your mouth around one, you slid your tongue around it in small circles, not too harsh or too soft, he couldn’t help the low drown out groans that spilled out of his mouth.

You let it go with a pop before moving on to the next one.

He was leaking so much. It was spilling down the sides of his dick, it was dripping from tip.

His balls tightened in your mouth and with a hot gasp you pull off.

“Shit,” your tone too normal and light, like you haven’t been teasing the fuck out of him, “I don’t mean to do that for that long.” You looked up at him like you were sorry. Your long lashes batting up at him apologetically.

His dick stuttered, threatening to bust.

“Fuck you.” He strained out in a wine. His eyes dark and stormy through their just blown gaze.

“Oh. . .” Your eyes went wide before fluttering elsewhere, darting around the room.

You took it too far and now he was upset. You frowned with a pout, but he promised. How can he get so mad if he promised.

Not wasting time, you took him in your mouth, his hips pushing his dick past your lips just as much as you were taking in, desperately thrusting up.

Now that you could set your own pace tonight you didn’t have to take him all the way so soon at the start, you could take your time, jerk the rest of him with your hand, and finally savor the taste of him in your mouth, the smooth velvety skin and the natural musk he exuded from every pore.

You sucked a little harder hollowing your cheeks as you did, eager for more.

“Ah,” he hissed, “wait, fuck. . .baby wait.”

It was too late, he was already filling your mouth.

You spit whatever was left in your mouth and latched back on him.

He roughly pushed at your forehead, making you wince, but the more he did that the harder you sucked his softening dick to keep it in your mouth. His stomach and chest heavily heaved up and down as he breathed in and out.

“Quit. . . Playing.” He strained against gritted teeth, fighting the whimper bubbling up his throat.

You swatted his hands away.

Eventually as you slowly mouthed at his dick, he got hard again and his groans and whimpers subsided.

Satisfied, you moved your head back to let go and sit on top of him. Your pussy wet and desperate to finally have him inside, but a large hand firmly grasped the nape of your neck as he pushed himself to the back of your throat.

“Where the fuck you think you going?”

He set a hard and brutal pace.

The wet sound of his dick sliding up and down your throat as you whined around him made your pussy ache around nothing. The hair of his base roughly tickling at your nose as his balls slapped occasionally on your chin.

“If you love my dick so much,” he emphasized his point by holding your face against his hips, savoring how your throat clenched and unclenched around him as you choked on him, “why do you keep spitting it out?”

He looked down at you with a smirk, wiping a stray drop of his cumb that leaked from your mouth before shoving it back inside with his dick, pushing just a bit more for you to make a sloppy choked sobb on his dick and finger he pushed inside with it .

“You know how much that hurts my feelings.”

It was Terry’s favorite sick game he liked to play.

The first time you ever sucked his dick, without thinking you just spit it out when you were done, he was taken aback, almost offended. The way his face fell and his eyes dropped was almost cute, big, wide, and cloudy with somber soft gray blue clouds, but it didn’t stay that way. He liked to force you to swallow sometimes, and you never knew when that day would be.

Tonight was one of those times.

His grip on the back of your neck tightened. His hips started to thrust down your throat with as much fervor as his grip on you was shoving you towards him. With a low, drawn huff of a groan, he spilled down your throat. The thick hot spurts of his cum sliding uncomfortably through your body, filling your belly with a particular warmth you weren’t too fond of.

You meweled against his softening dick as the tightening of your muscles released. Your thighs starting to seize and tremble as you came undone, unexpectedly coming in a way you did not want to as well.

“Shh.” He rubbed your face with a thumb as he came down your throat and you spilled around nothing. “You know you like it.” He murmured.

[eu-nicola]

children's fight

summary: your disdain for Lando was no secret. You didn’t hate him, but there was something about him that you just couldn’t stand.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 5282

author's note: english is not my first language

Formula 1 had always been more than a hobby for you; it was a passion, an obsession. You had grown up watching races, studying statistics and learning every detail of the circuits. However, it wasn’t just the sport that fascinated you, but the drivers. And for you, Max Verstappen was the best. His talent, his relentless determination and his ability to handle any situation on the track had made him your favourite since he joined the grid. So, when the current season became a tug-of-war between Max and Lando Norris, there was no question about which side you were on. 

Your disdain for Lando was no secret. You didn’t hate him, but there was something about him that you just couldn’t stand. His arrogant attitude whenever things didn’t go his way, his constant need for attention and his immaturity were unbearable to you. And even more so now, when he acted like he was on Max’s level, when, in your eyes, he wasn’t. He was a good driver, sure, but he didn’t have the mentality or experience to win a championship. That frustrated you, especially since every time he lost, he complained instead of accepting that he still had some way to go. 

One day, thanks to your “job” (it was more of an internship) as a freelance sports journalist, you had the chance to attend a private event for Formula 1 media in Monaco. It was an intimate dinner with several drivers and some sponsors, a sort of social pre-season that promised exclusive access to the stars of motorsport. You couldn’t believe it when you received the invitation. Although you had covered races before, you had never been so close to the drivers in such a relaxed atmosphere. 

The evening started well. You met up with other well-known journalists, shared a couple of glasses of wine and spoke to some members of the technical teams. Everything seemed perfect, until you saw him. Lando Norris. 

He was surrounded by a small group of people, talking and laughing as if he owned the room. From afar, his voice rang out with a carefree tone that others found charming, but to you it sounded condescending. His wide gestures and constant laughter reminded you exactly why you weren’t a fan of him.

You decided to ignore him and continue enjoying the night, but fate had other plans. During dinner, you were assigned a spot right in front of him at the head table. You tried to remain professional, even though the situation made you uncomfortable.

“And you?” Lando asked after a while, addressing you directly as he smiled with overflowing confidence. “Do you have a favorite pilot, or are you one of those who say you love them all equally?”

The comment, while seemingly harmless, made you roll your eyes internally. You had heard other journalists succumb to his charm, but you weren’t going to fall for it.

“I have one, yes,” you replied, keeping your tone neutral but direct. “Max Verstappen.”

For a second, Lando’s smile faltered, then came back stronger.

“Oh, yeah?” he said, leaning forward with a curious look. “Interesting choice. Why him?”

You took a deep breath before answering, trying to stay calm.

“He’s the most complete driver I’ve seen in years. His ability to adapt to any situation on the track is impressive, and he doesn’t give up no matter the circumstances.”

“And you think I can’t do that?” Lando replied, raising an eyebrow. Although he was still smiling, there was a defiant tone in his tone.

“I think you still have a lot to prove,” you replied bluntly, feeling the atmosphere at the table tense slightly.

Lando laughed, but this time his laugh sounded somewhat forced.

“Wow, straight to the point. This year will be different.” I’m ready to prove that I have what it takes to win.

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you took a sip from your wine glass, watching him with a mix of skepticism and curiosity. You knew you could have been more diplomatic, but there was something about him that just pushed you to confront him.

The conversation turned to other topics, but the initial exchange hung in the air like a charged cloud of electricity.

Dinner continued, but the tension between you and Lando was undeniable. Every time he spoke or laughed, you felt your nerves fray. His voice seemed to boom louder than anyone else’s at the table, as if he was deliberately trying to get everyone’s attention. The worst part was that it worked. Every comment he made drew laughter and nods from everyone else, which only made your irritation grow.

You tried to focus on the conversation with the person sitting to your right, a journalist you'd known for a while, but every few minutes you found yourself glancing at Lando. It wasn't a look of curiosity, but of analysis. You wanted to understand what everyone saw in him, why he found it so easy to charm others while you found him so insufferable. 

Of course, Lando was quick to notice your glances, and every time he did, he responded with a smile that seemed designed to provoke you. It was the kind of smile that said: I know you don't like me, but I don't care. 

The rest of the dinner passed in a mix of awkward and disdainful glances. Every time your eyes met Lando's, it seemed like the two of you were fighting some kind of silent battle. He kept smiling with that carefree air, while you kept a neutral expression that perfectly hid the irritation you felt inside.

When dessert was finally served, you were counting down the minutes until the evening was over. But just when you thought you could escape without any more confrontation, Lando stood up and walked around the table, stopping right next to you. 

“It’s been interesting meeting you,” he said with that smile that now seemed permanent on his face. “I hope you enjoy following my season as much as you enjoy following Max’s.”

His tone was light, but the challenge in his words was clear. Before you could respond, he had already walked away. 

The next day dawned with a fresh and promising air. You had a busy schedule: interviews with some of the best drivers on the grid at one of the most important promotional events before the start of the season. Although you knew it would be an exhausting day, you were also looking forward to it. Talking to drivers, hearing their perspectives, and writing about them was one of the reasons you loved your job. 

The morning started off calmly. You arrived early, dressed in a smart but functional outfit, with a notepad in hand and a professional smile on your face. The interview room was decorated with the logos of the teams and sponsors, and a row of cameras and lights was already ready to capture every word of the drivers. 

The first interviews went smoothly. You spoke to George Russell, who always had a calm and polite charisma. Then to Carlos Sainz, who never failed to make you laugh with his anecdotes. Even Charles Leclerc, with his easy-going charm, made you feel comfortable. Everything was going well. You were professional, respectful, and although you weren't a fan of all the drivers, you knew how to maintain the balance between admiration and objective analysis. 

But you knew that eventually you would have to interview Lando Norris. And, to be honest, you were dreading it. 

When the time came, you saw Lando approach the small area where you conducted your interviews. He was dressed in his McLaren uniform, his hair perfectly messy and a relaxed smile on his face. From afar, he seemed unconcerned, but when his eyes met yours, you noticed a flash of recognition. He knew this wasn’t going to be just any interview.

“Hi,” he greeted, extending his hand to you with professionalism. “Ready when you are.”

You took a deep breath, accepted his handshake, and nodded. You decided to approach the interview as usual: direct, objective, and with questions that went beyond the standard answers.

“Lando, this season promises to be one of the most competitive in recent years. Considering your progress in the last few races, how are you preparing to stay consistent in the fight against more experienced drivers?”

His smile didn’t falter.

“Good question,” he said, leaning forward slightly as he answered confidently. “I think the key is to keep a cool head and trust the work we’ve done as a team. At the end of the day, it all comes down to who can take advantage of opportunities when they present themselves.”

The conversation flowed naturally, though you could sense a slight tension in the air. Lando was adept at answering, but it was also evident that he was measuring each word, as if he was making sure not to give you cause to criticize him further. You, for your part, remained neutral, asking pointed questions and avoiding any comments that could be interpreted as personal. 

Towards the end of the interview, you decided to broach the subject of your rivalry with Max. 

“Speaking of taking advantage of opportunities, your battle with Max Verstappen last season was one of the most talked about. How do you describe that dynamic?”

Lando held your gaze for a moment longer than necessary before answering. 

“Max is a great driver, that is not up for discussion,” he replied, keeping his tone casual. “But I think this year will show who is really ready to fight for a championship. I am ready for that challenge, and I have no doubt that I can compete at the same level.”

“Interesting,” you commented, taking note of his response. But something in his tone made you purse your lips, as if he were issuing a veiled challenge, not only to Max, but to you as well.

The interview ended with a handshake and an exchange of tense smiles. From the outside, anyone would have thought that the two of you had been completely professional. And, technically, they had been. But inside, you knew the spark of disagreement was still alive.

The off-camera confrontation

Later, as you reviewed your notes and waited your turn for the next interview, you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Are you always this harsh in your interviews or just with me?” Lando asked, his tone light but with a challenging undertone.

You turned your head towards him, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m doing my job. If I seem harsh to you, maybe you should review how you respond.”

Lando let out a soft laugh, leaning slightly towards you.

“I think what’s really going on is that you can’t stand the fact that you don’t like me.”

You crossed your arms, keeping your cool.

“It has nothing to do with that. I’m not here to like you or not, Lando. I’m here to do my job, and I think I did a pretty good job.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” he replied, his smile fading slightly as he studied you intently. “But don’t pretend that I don’t bother you. It’s obvious. I saw it last night, and I see it now.”

His bluntness took you by surprise, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you held his gaze.

“If you’re so worried about what I think, maybe you should focus more on proving what you say on the track.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, but then he smiled again, this time with something more genuine, as if your answer had amused him.

“You know what?” “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun this year,” he said before turning and walking away, leaving you with a mix of irritation and something you couldn’t quite place. 

Later, when the interviews started being posted as teasers on social media, you thought you could relax for a while. You’d done a good job: professional, direct, and not letting your personal opinions creep into your questions. At least, that’s what you thought. 

You were in your hotel room, reviewing your notes for the article you’d be publishing the next day. Meanwhile, your phone was constantly buzzing with notifications. You decided to ignore them at first, assuming they were just alerts for posts related to the day’s event. But when the sound became incessant, something inside you told you to take a look. 

You unlocked your phone, and as soon as you opened Instagram, your worst fears were confirmed. There was a featured video on the event’s official account: your interview with Lando Norris. The clip, though brief, perfectly captured the tensions you had tried to conceal.

“Lando Norris: ‘I think this year will see who is really ready to challenge for a championship.’”

The camera then panned to you, raising an eyebrow and responding with a neutral but firm:

“Interesting.”

There was nothing inherently out of place in the exchange, but the comments told another story.

—Is it just me or is there tension between them?

—The way she looks at him… ugh, that’s pure disdain.

—What if there’s something else behind this? 👀

—She’s clearly not a Lando fan. #TeamMax.

—This feels like the beginning of a rom-com, but with cars.

You frowned, scrolling through the comments. There were dozens of memes accompanying screenshots of the video. On Twitter, things weren’t any better.

One user had posted:

“Her: ‘I’m completely professional.’ Also her: throws an invisible dagger at Lando with her eyes.”

The tweet was accompanied by a picture of you crossing your arms during the interview while Lando answered one of your questions.

Another said:

“The tension is so thick you could cut it with a rear spoiler.”

Though you tried hard not to let it affect you, a mix of embarrassment and frustration began to settle in your chest. You hadn't done anything wrong. You'd kept your composure, you'd been professional... or had you? You began to doubt yourself. Maybe your dislike for Lando had been more apparent than you thought.

The final straw was a meme someone had made with a picture of Lando smiling nonchalantly and a screenshot of you looking at him with a slightly skeptical expression. The caption read:

“Her: ‘I'm impartial.’

Also her: ‘Max > Lando any day.’

You couldn't help but let out a sarcastic laugh, even though you weren't amused by the situation.

The Unexpected Message

Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, your phone vibrated again, but this time it was a direct message on Instagram. It was from someone you weren't expecting.

Lando Norris:

“Looks like we're trending. Did you plan this too, or am I just the one who knows how to get everyone's attention?”

You felt a rush of heat rise up your neck. This boy's audacity knew no bounds. You took a deep breath before replying:

You:

"Don't blame me for other people's interpretations."

The reply was not long in coming.

Lando Norris:

"Looks like you and I make a good team when it comes to talking heads. Maybe we should take advantage of it.”

You pursed your lips, deliberating whether to continue or leave it on read. But something about his message made you feel like this “rivalry” wasn’t going to end anytime soon. Between the memes, the comments, and Lando’s brashness, you knew this story was just beginning.

You put your phone away with a sigh, but the feeling of unease didn’t go away. Now you not only had to deal with your animosity towards Lando, but also with the fact that the entire world seemed to enjoy watching them go at each other. And the worst part of all? Lando seemed to be enjoying it more than anyone else.

The days following the social media controversy were strange, as if you were navigating in a limbo between unwanted attention and trying to get back to your routine. You decided to stay as far away from the public eye as possible. Although you still fulfilled your responsibilities, you were very careful in choosing how and when to participate. You made sure to delegate trackside interviews to your peers and limit your interaction with the drivers to a minimum. essential.

After the race, when it was time to travel to the next venue, your strategy remained: low profile. The paddock, normally vibrant with conversations, interviews and the energy that a new race brings, became a place where you moved with calculated precision. You appeared only when absolutely necessary: ​​at official photo shoots, on TV broadcasts, and always with a perfectly practiced smile.

You focused on other parts of your job, immersing yourself in writing articles, checking statistics and contributing behind the scenes. Moments of visibility were strategic, just enough to fulfil your responsibilities and avoid any unnecessary encounters. This involved coordinating with your colleagues to take on interviews with specific drivers. And, of course, among those names was always Lando Norris.

Despite your efforts to remain invisible to him, the paddock was a small place, and it wasn't always possible to avoid crossing paths with certain people. When this happened, you forced yourself to maintain your composure. You walked past him with your head held high, as if you hadn't seen him. You walked confidently, not allowing any flicker of discomfort to show on your face. But there was always that feeling, as if you felt his gaze briefly on you.

Lando, for his part, seemed busy with his own thing. He was immersed in his work, fulfilling his own commitments: meetings with the team, interviews with the press, promotional events. From the outside, he seemed completely focused on his world, almost as if the tension between you had never existed. You barely noticed any reaction from him, and that bothered you more than you were willing to admit.

There were fleeting moments, though. When you walked across the paddock with your notes in hand or passed him in the hospitality halls, you could feel his eyes on you for an instant. It wasn’t a lingering, inquisitive glance, more of a casual glance, as if he recognized you and then went on with his business.

Days turned into weeks, and the dynamic continued the same. You were both in the same place, but walking different paths. You avoided any direct interaction, and he, apparently, had no interest in seeking it out. However, social media remained attentive. Every time a photo from the paddock showed the two of you in the same place, even if it was meters away, the comments would come:

—“Look, there they are again! Is it a coincidence?”

—“They don’t interact, but I bet there’s some tension in the air.”

—“Lando seems indifferent, but she looks so serious. I’m intrigued by all this.”

Even though you tried to ignore it, you couldn’t help but see the posts. The speculations never stopped, but you remained firm in your decision not to let this interfere with your work.

For his part, Lando continued to move forward with his life in the paddock. His focus was on racing, media, and strategies to stay competitive. If he thought about you, he didn’t show it openly. But at times, when he was sitting in the hospitality area reviewing data or preparing for an interview, his mind wandered. He remembered the exchange of glances, the interview that had become a trend, and those brief moments when he saw you passing by. However, those thoughts were fleeting; he quickly dismissed them and returned to focusing on his work.

Despite your best efforts to stay under the radar and avoid Lando Norris, fate – or perhaps the small size of the paddock – seemed hell-bent on crossing paths with you. Grand Prix days became an awkward dance between keeping up appearances and trying not to explode in frustration. And, to be fair, Lando did nothing to make things better. 

The issues started small, barely noticeable, but over time, the friction became more and more apparent, both to you and to those around you. 

It all started with a seemingly insignificant moment at a press conference. You were sitting among the journalists, ready to take notes and prepare intelligent questions for various drivers. Lando was on the panel that day alongside Max and two other drivers. When it was your turn to ask, you asked a simple but direct question about his qualifying performance – completely standard fare. 

The way Lando answered, however, made it clear: he wasn’t interested in being cooperative with you.

His answers were short, almost cutting, and his tone, though not explicitly hostile, had a hint of mockery. When he finished answering, he sketched an almost imperceptible smile, as if he knew exactly how he was affecting you. Some journalists exchanged glances, surprised by the exchange. You, with an impassive face, continued writing in your notebook as if nothing had happened. 

However, in the hallways later, you heard one of your colleagues whisper:

—It seems that Lando has something personal with her.

The next brush came during a recording for a special program. You were in a small dressing room preparing your presentation when Lando burst in unannounced. He was wearing his team uniform and seemed to be looking for something. 

“Excuse me, is this yours?.” he asked dryly, holding a wireless microphone that someone had left there. 

Before you could answer, he added:

“Oh, right, you probably just need a pen and a notebook.”

You froze for a second, processing the sentence. Although it wasn't necessarily an insult, the tone was clearly meant to belittle you.

"Not all of us need a car to feel important, Norris," you finally said, with a tight smile, as you walked past him to leave the dressing room.

It was an impulsive comment, but the expression on his face was reward enough. However, the incident made it clear that neither of you were willing to take a step back.

The friction began to be noticed in public as well. When you walked through the paddock and passed by Lando, you couldn't help but feel his gaze fixed on you, even if it was only for a second. You did the same, a kind of silent challenge. They weren't neutral glances; they were loaded with tension, with something deeper than simple antipathy.

There were times when he made sure to occupy strategic spaces, as if he were looking to make you uncomfortable. If you were in the McLaren team hospitality to interview an engineer or driver, Lando would casually wander over, interrupting the conversation with unnecessary comments or jokes that weren’t quite jokes.

When this happened, you kept your composure as best you could, but your answers were always just as sharp. The atmosphere became so awkward that even other team members noticed the dynamic and were quick to jump in.

The final straw came during a charity event organized by Formula 1. You were assigned to cover the event, and Lando was one of the featured drivers. At one point in the show, while the drivers were participating in a trivia game, someone mentioned the incident on social media that had made them trending weeks earlier.

Lando didn’t pass up the opportunity to make a comment:

“Well, it seems I have a talent for bringing out the best in people, even when they don’t get along with me.”

The audience laughed immediately, but you felt the ground fall out from under your feet. Although his tone was seemingly light, the hint was clear.

Later, when the event was over, you approached the press officer and asked to change assignments to avoid covering any segment where Lando was involved. However, you knew it wouldn't be easy. The tension between you two was no longer a secret, and the more you tried to avoid it, the more it seemed like the universe was conspiring to keep you two crossing paths.

Despite the issues, neither of you were willing to back down. The relationship between you was like a rope stretched to the limit, ready to snap at any moment.

The tension between you and Lando had reached such an absurd point that, to any outside observer, it looked more like a schoolyard fight than a professional dispute between two adults. Although you both had legitimate reasons for your mutual displeasure, the way you handled the situation was anything but mature.

With those little passive-aggressive acts that seemed straight out of the angry child's handbook.

Things between you and Lando were far from calming down. The taunts and teases kept piling up like a snowball, and even though you tried to ignore it, there was something about him that you couldn't help but hate... and at the same time, something that pushed you to challenge him. But after that last race, things took a different turn.

It was an exciting race, one that kept everyone on the edge of their seats. Lando had won, and the paddock was in a party mood. Teams, drivers, media, and even sponsors gathered at a fancy club to celebrate. Although you weren’t particularly a fan of such gatherings, attending was part of your job, so you got ready, picked out a dress that was stylish enough but comfortable, and headed to the event. 

The club was packed, with dim lights and vibrant music filling the air. Drivers and team members toasted the day’s achievements, while others immersed themselves in lively conversations or danced carefree. The energy was contagious, and, for a moment, you allowed yourself to relax. 

You were chatting with a couple of colleagues when you noticed Lando walk in. His presence was unmistakable: he walked with that confidence that used to irritate you, surrounded by some of his team members and other drivers who congratulated him effusively. He wore a dark shirt, unbuttoned just enough to look comfortable but effortless, and his winning smile was so wide it almost seemed to dare anyone to question him.

Your eyes met for a brief moment. You looked away quickly, determined not to ruin your evening by thinking about him.

As the evening progressed, a man approached you. He was one of the marketing guys for a team, someone you had exchanged words with at previous events. Tall, pleasant-looking, and clearly interested in you, he began to chat with you in a friendly manner.

The talk was light, but interesting. He asked questions about your job, joked about the tensions of the paddock, and made you laugh with witty comments. Although you weren’t looking for anything romantic, you enjoyed the attention. There was nothing wrong with letting yourself get carried away in the moment after stress-filled weeks.

Without realizing it, the distance between you shortened. The man leaned in toward you as he spoke, and you responded with animated nods. From the outside, anyone might have thought there was more than just conversation going on.

Lando was leaning against the bar, a drink in his hand and surrounded by a few friends. From where he stood, he had a clear view of you and the man you were talking to. At first, he didn't pay too much attention to it; after all, it wasn't his business. But, as the minutes passed and he saw you laughing and looking at him, something inside him began to boil.

The feeling was annoying, almost irrational. He didn't understand why he cared, but he couldn't help but feel a slight tingle of irritation at seeing you so comfortable with someone else. It wasn't jealousy, or at least that's what he told himself. It was… what? Frustration? Spite? Whatever it was, it wouldn't leave him alone.

He decided to ignore it, taking a long drink from his drink and returning to his conversation. But every time he saw you from the corner of his eye, his concentration evaporated.

At some point, you decided to move to the bar to order a drink, and the man followed you. As you waited for your drink, you felt a presence beside you. You turned, and there was Lando, leaning against the bar with his typical relaxed expression, though his eyes seemed darker than usual. 

He didn’t say anything, but the air between you immediately tensed. His eyes briefly rested on the man next to you before returning to you, assessing you. 

Though no words were exchanged, the message was clear: he didn’t like what he was seeing. His jaw was slightly clenched, and his fingers drummed against the bar as if he were trying to hold something back. You, far from being intimidated, lifted your chin and held his gaze.

When you received your drink, you turned to the man and resumed the conversation as if Lando wasn’t there, although you felt his eyes burning into your back.

A little while later, you were on the dance floor with some friends. The music was lively enough to relax you, and although you weren’t the best dancer, you were enjoying the moment. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you found yourself facing Lando.

There was something in his expression that seemed challenging, as if he were testing you. He looked you straight in the eyes and bluntly extended his hand. “Would you like to dance?”

You knew exactly what he was doing.

“No.” Was your dry, unwavering response.

The rejection seemed to surprise him, though he tried not to show it. A slight smile formed on his face, as if he were mocking your refusal, but there was a glint in his eyes that betrayed his irritation.

Without another word, Lando lowered his hand and turned around, returning to the bar. You went back to dancing, though you couldn't ignore the feeling that his eyes were still fixed on you from a distance.

Later, while you were dancing with some friends, you noticed him again. This time, he was in the center of a group, laughing and joking, but somehow he always ended up in your line of vision. It was as if he was making sure you saw him enjoying himself.

And you noticed. You knew he was upset, and you couldn't deny that it gave you a certain satisfaction. Maybe you even exaggerated your attitude towards the man a little, leaning towards him and smiling more than necessary. If Lando wanted to play, so could you.

The game continued for the rest of the night, a silent war that neither of you was willing to give in to. There were no words, but the looks and gestures said more than either of you were willing to admit.

When the party ended, you left feeling like you had won, though you knew Lando wouldn’t let this go easily. For his part, he was left with a mix of irritation and confusion, wondering why you let yourself be affected by him so much… and why he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

[rue-isabelle]

Part 1 Part 3

Aphrodite of Formula 1, Part 2

The Monaco paddock was buzzing, but not with the usual pre-race excitement. The drivers were all acting out of character, their girlfriends were growing increasingly frustrated, and the fans were having a field day tracking every move. The reason? Yn, as always, was oblivious to the chaos surrounding her.

---

Max and Kelly

Max leaned against a railing near the Mercedes garage, completely engrossed in conversation with Yn. She was telling him about the time she had to coordinate a last-minute team dinner for 30 people, her laughter filling the air as she recounted the chaos.

“You’re incredible,” Max said, shaking his head. “I can’t even organize my own breakfast without someone helping me.”

“It’s just practice,” Yn said modestly.

Kelly, meanwhile, stood outside the paddock, furiously scrolling through her phone. Max had promised to pick her up an hour ago, but there was no sign of him. She stormed into the paddock, her heels clicking furiously against the pavement, until she spotted him.

“Max!” she called sharply.

Max blinked, his attention snapping back to reality. “Kelly?”

“Yes, Kelly!” she spat. “The one you were supposed to pick up an hour ago?”

Yn’s smile faltered. “Oh no, Max, if you need to go—”

“No,” Max said quickly. “It’s fine. She doesn't matter as much as she thinks she does.” He turned back to Yn. “So, you were saying about the dinner?”

Kelly’s jaw dropped. “You’re seriously just going to ignore me?”

“I’ll catch up with you later. Go and be a mom for once,” Max said dismissively, earning an incredulous glare from Kelly as she stomped away.

---

Charles and Alexandra

Charles had been in a great mood all day. Why? Yn had laughed at his joke earlier, and the memory had been replaying in his mind ever since. When the day ended, he spotted Yn leaving the paddock and hurried to catch up with her.

“Yn! Do you need a ride?” he asked, his smile wide.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you, but I don’t want to trouble you,” Yn said.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Charles insisted, opening the passenger door of his car.

“Alright, thank you,” Yn said, climbing in.

Meanwhile, Alexandra stood in the paddock, waiting for Charles to take her back to their hotel. A mechanic approached her, not wanting to talk to her but having lost 'rock-paper-scissor' earlier against the others.

“He left,” the mechanic said awkwardly. “With Yn.”

Alexandra’s face turned red with fury. She let out a scream of frustration, startling everyone around her.

“Are you kidding me?!” she shouted. “What is wrong with all of you?! Why does he prefer this stupid bitch over me. I’m the one he should be fucking, not driving this slut home. Oh, she will pay!!”

Phones whipped out, capturing her meltdown as she stormed through the paddock, cursing under her breath.

By the time Alexandra returned to her hotel, videos of her tirade were all over the internet. Fans mocked her relentlessly, calling her a “gold digger” or "the wicked bitch is out again" and posting memes about her jealousy.

Charles, however, didn’t care. Yn had laughed at his joke earlier, and that was all that mattered.

---

Pierre and Kika

Pierre handed Yn a beautifully wrapped gift box, his smile warm. “I saw this and thought of you.”

Yn opened the box to find a limited-edition Hermès handbag. Her eyes widened. “Pierre, this is too much! I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can,” Pierre said. “You deserve it.”

Kika, meanwhile, had been plotting her next move. If Pierre thought a handbag was impressive, she’d go bigger.

The next day, Kika handed Yn a set of car keys.

“What’s this?” Yn asked, confused.

“A Lamborghini,” Kika said proudly. “It’s yours. Matte black, just like I imagined for you.”

Yn stared at the keys, speechless.

Before she could respond, Kika leaned in and kissed her on the lips, letting her tongueget a taste of Yn's sweet mouth. “I hope you like it,” she said with a wink.

Pierre watched the scene unfold, his jaw tightening. “A Lamborghini?” he muttered under his breath.

---

George and Carmen

Yn joined George and Carmen for a rare day off, excited for a relaxed shopping trip. But George had other plans.

As they browsed a boutique, George held up a sleek, form-fitting dress. “Yn, you should try this.”

Yn blinked. “Me? That’s not really my style.”

“It is now,” George said firmly. “You shouldn’t hide your beauty.”

Carmen nodded approvingly. “That’s so thoughtful, George. Always looking out for her.”

Yn reluctantly tried on the dress, emerging from the fitting room. George stepped closer, adjusting the fabric on her chest. He gave her perfect tit's a squeeze, making it look like he was adjusting the area.

“Perfect,” he said softly. His heart was hammering, his hands not wanting to leave her breast. It was only then that he noticed that Yn wasn't wearing a bra. Her peaky nipples winked at him. He softly stroked over them with his thumbs, before catching himself.

Yn laughed. “You’re too much.” She didn't notice anything, to engrossed in her conversation with Carmen.

Carmen, obviously to everything that George just did, smiled, thinking to herself how sweet George was to look out for her pseudo-sister.

---

Oscar and Lily

Oscar was supposed to be taking photos for Lily’s social media, but his camera seemed to have a mind of its own. Every few minutes, it drifted toward Yn, who was seated nearby, absorbed in her work.

“Oscar,” Lily said, tapping her foot. “Hello? I’m over here.”

“Right,” Oscar mumbled, snapping a quick photo of Lily before turning his camera back to Yn.

Lily sighed but didn’t bother protesting. “You’ve got it bad,” she said, shaking her head.

Oscar grinned sheepishly. “She’s just… perfect.”

---

Carlos and Rebecca

Carlos sat in the paddock, scrolling through his phone. His screen was filled with photos of Yn, her smile lighting up every shot. His panst started feeling tighter, his dick fighting to break free from his trousers.

He didn’t notice Rebecca walking up behind him until she leaned over his shoulder.

“Seriously?” Rebecca said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you just popp a boner in public because of a fucking picture?”

Carlos nearly dropped his phone. “I wasn’t—”. He quickly brought his hands in front of his trousers. However, when he made contact with his dick, he couldn't help imagine Yn on her knees for him, making him moan rather loud.

Rebecca just scoffed at him, feeling disgusted that he acted like that towards Yn in public. She looked him up and down, before muttering "Pathetic Pussy" so only Carlos could hear, and left.

That evening, Rebecca found Yn in her hotel room, exhausted. “You need to take better care of yourself, my love,” Rebecca said gently, brushing Yn hair away from her face.

Yn tried to protest, but Rebecca guided her to the bed and began massaging her shoulders. “You’re too kind,” Yn mumbled, her eyes drooping. Slowly, Rebecca brought her hands lower and lower towards her ass, giving it a squeeze and a soft pad, so Yn would stand up.

Rebecca tucked her in, smoothing the blanket over her. “Goodnight,” she whispered, climbing into bed and wrapping her arms around Yn as the big spoon.

Yn, half-asleep, murmured, “Thank you.”

Rebecca smiled. “Anything for you.” Afterwards, while Yn was asleep, he put one hand on Yn book, playing with it. At the same time, she was sucking a hickey carefully on her neck, licking and kissing her neck afterwards.

---

Despite the chaos, Yn remained blissfully unaware of the war raging around her. For her, it was just another busy race weekend. For everyone else, it was a battle to win her heart, no matter the cost.

@omgsuperstarg

@seonghwaexile

[its-avalon-08]

Franco Colapinto, where his girlfriend gets jealous of his interviews, so she does everything to make him jealous in return

uno reverse amor (fc43)

✦ pairing - franco colapinto x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, jealousy, flirting, insecurity, fluff

It had started out innocently enough. Franco had always been friendly and warm, and Y/N knew that his charm was just part of who he was. But ever since he joined the F1 paddock, the charm had evolved into something more… public. Every race weekend, clips of Franco effortlessly flirting with reporters and crew members spread like wildfire, and fans ate it up, dubbing him the new “king of charm.”

Y/N, however, was less amused.

The first incident that had really gotten under her skin happened at the British Grand Prix. Franco was leaning against the car, chatting with a well-known reporter who was giggling at everything he said, twirling her hair as she asked him a question about the upcoming race.

“Oh, it’ll be intense,” he said with a grin, his gaze steady on her. “But, you know, I think it’s all about staying calm, keeping your focus. And enjoying the beautiful company, of course.”

The reporter laughed, blushing as Franco flashed her one of his trademark smiles. Y/N, watching from a few feet away, clenched her fists, biting back a glare. Did he really have to add that last part?

As if that wasn’t enough, the week after, during an interview at the Italian Grand Prix, he was asked a simple question about pre-race routines.

“Oh, I’ve got my little routines,” he said, winking at the interviewer, who had already melted halfway into her chair. “I like to get in the right headspace, maybe listen to some music… unless there’s someone interesting around to keep me company.”

The interviewer let out a flustered laugh, and Y/N’s jaw clenched. Really, Franco? “Someone interesting”? Her fingers itched to reach out and pull him away, but she forced herself to stay calm, her heart pounding with frustration.

Then, a few days later, she caught him doing it again—this time with a team member. He’d stopped mid-stride, turned to face her with that irresistible grin, and said, “You’re really making it hard for me to concentrate on the race with those eyes of yours.”

The team member had laughed, shaking her head, but Y/N was seething. How many times does he have to do this? She could feel herself growing annoyed every time she saw him so much as smirk at anyone else.

One evening after another long day at the track, she finally decided to confront him. They were back in his hotel room, and she paced around while Franco lay sprawled on the bed, oblivious.

"Franco," she began, crossing her arms. "You know… you’ve been getting a lot of attention lately.”

He raised an eyebrow, his face innocent. “Oh? From who?”

“From every journalist, reporter, and team member you’ve been flirting with,” she shot back, her voice laced with exasperation.

He laughed, rolling his eyes. “Amor, you know that’s just how I am. I’m just being friendly.”

“Friendly?” she repeated, scoffing. “You called a reporter ‘beautiful company’ and told a mechanic she had distracting eyes.”

He sat up, holding back a smile. “Are you jealous, mi amor?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “No, I’m annoyed that you’re flirting with every woman in sight, making me look like some jealous girlfriend who has to just… stand back and watch.”

Franco chuckled, getting up and pulling her close. “It’s all harmless, cariño. I only have eyes for you.” He leaned in, trying to soften her with a kiss, but Y/N just rolled her eyes, pushing him away.

“Harmless,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “We’ll see about that.”

time skip

The next day, Y/N was ready. She’d slipped into her best outfit, something just a bit more eye-catching than usual. Every detail was intentional: a hint of perfume he loved, her hair styled to perfection, and a glint in her eye that promised trouble.

Franco, as usual, seemed completely oblivious to the storm brewing beside him as they arrived at the paddock together. He greeted her with a casual arm around her waist, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before turning his attention to his mechanics, his team, and soon enough, the journalists. Y/N watched as he naturally fell into his routine, flashing that same boyish grin, laughing a little too freely, and leaning in just a little too close for her comfort.

This time, though, she didn’t sulk on the sidelines. She had her own plans.

“Hey, Ben!” she greeted one of the mechanics, letting her voice take on an extra warmth as she walked up to him with a bright smile. She didn’t have to try too hard—Ben was easy to talk to and always ready with a laugh. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, crossing her arms in a way that drew his attention.

“I was thinking,” she said, biting her lip thoughtfully, “you need to show me how you work your magic with these cars sometime. I bet it’s way more fun than it looks.”

Ben chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy grin. “Oh, you think so? Maybe I could give you a little behind-the-scenes tour sometime,” he offered, looking flattered.

“Only if you promise I’ll get the full VIP experience,” she replied, letting her fingers brush his arm as she laughed. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Franco’s head snap in their direction, his smile faltering as he caught sight of the interaction. Good. She was only just getting started.

The entire day passed in a blur of subtle flirtations—though maybe ‘subtle’ wasn’t the right word. She’d find reasons to linger a bit too long with various members of the team, sharing inside jokes and laughing louder than necessary. She even struck up a conversation with one of the other drivers, who was only too happy to entertain her with stories from his racing days. Every time, she made sure Franco was close enough to witness.

By the time evening rolled around, they’d all decided to celebrate at a nearby club. The music was loud, the lights dim, and the energy high, and Y/N knew it was the perfect place to turn things up a notch. She danced, her laughter bright and easy as she moved through the crowd, letting her hand graze against an arm here, a shoulder there, leaning in close to speak to anyone she deemed worth her attention.

Across the room, Franco was watching her like a hawk. His jaw was tight, and his eyes narrowed every time he saw her hand linger on someone else’s arm or caught her laughing too closely with another driver. She knew he was trying to keep his composure, but it was clear his patience was wearing thin.

Finally, she was in the middle of a conversation with one of Franco’s competitors, a tall, charming driver with an easy smile and a hand that rested just a little too comfortably on her lower back. The driver leaned in, whispering something that made her laugh, and she let herself rest a hand on his shoulder, her eyes flashing with mischief as she spoke.

Y/N was on a roll, and Franco was coming undone. Every time he thought she’d finally had her fun, she’d find someone else to charm with that same sweet laugh and teasing smile she usually reserved for him. And it was driving him crazy.

They’d only just walked back from the bar when she caught sight of one of the mechanics, a friendly guy named Luca. With a mischievous smile, Y/N waltzed over and struck up a conversation, playfully touching his shoulder as she leaned in to hear him over the music.

Really? Luca? Franco’s fists clenched, his jaw tight. He tried to focus on the drink in his hand, tried to keep his eyes anywhere but on her hand lingering on Luca’s arm. Does she really have to be that close to him? Does she have to laugh like that at whatever he's saying?

Luca was saying something that made her laugh again, and she leaned in, looking up at him with wide eyes and a soft smile that Franco knew all too well. Unbelievable, he thought, resisting the urge to march over and tell Luca that his services were absolutely not needed right now.

But it didn’t end there.

Later on, she’d wandered over to a group of drivers who were deep in conversation about the latest upgrades to their cars. Y/N approached them with that breezy confidence that only she could pull off, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she smiled at one of the drivers, giving him her full attention. He was explaining something technical, and Y/N was nodding intently, her hand resting on her hip as she tilted her head just slightly, the way she did when she was really focused on something.

Franco’s grip on his glass tightened, his knuckles white. That’s not how she usually listens to people, he fumed, watching as she laughed again, this time with a soft touch to the driver’s arm. Oh, come on. She doesn’t even care about car upgrades!

It felt like every glance, every laugh, every gentle touch of her hand was a little dagger aimed straight at his ego. He knew what she was doing, knew she was just trying to rile him up. And damn, it was working.

Then came the final straw. She’d been chatting with a young mechanic, one who’d recently joined the team and was clearly a little awestruck by her. Y/N was leaning close, whispering something that made the mechanic’s face go beet red, and she playfully nudged his shoulder, laughing as if they were sharing some secret joke.

Franco could feel his pulse hammering as he watched. Does she even realize what she’s doing? Or is this her plan all along? He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his cool. She’s supposed to be here with me, not… not making every other guy in the room feel like they’re the most important person here.

When she threw her head back in laughter, touching the mechanic’s forearm with just a little too much familiarity, Franco had had enough. Every inch of him was tense as he fought to keep himself from storming over there, from pulling her aside and making it very clear that she was his. She’s mine, he thought fiercely, barely restraining the urge to intervene. And she’s going to know it by the end of tonight.

The music pulsed through the club, and Y/N was in the middle of another conversation, this time with a driver she barely knew, when she felt a familiar hand wrap around her wrist. Franco’s grip was gentle but firm, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration and something else she hadn’t seen in a long time: pure, unfiltered jealousy.

“Amor,” he said through a tight smile, pulling her closer, his voice thick with intensity. “We’re leaving. Now.”

She blinked, biting back a grin as he guided her through the crowded room, his hand still wrapped around hers as he weaved them toward the exit. Once they were outside, in the cool night air, Franco turned to face her, his jaw set, eyes narrowed. His fingers brushed down her arm before he let go, clearly trying to gather his thoughts.

“Mind telling me what that was all about, mi amorcito?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, though the tension was undeniable. “I spent the entire night watching you laugh with everyone but me. Dios mío, you were flirting with every man in sight.”

She lifted an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, really? And what about you, Franco?” she shot back, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’ve been winking and laughing and charming everyone in the paddock for weeks. I just thought I’d give you a taste of your own medicine.”

His eyes widened in realization, a flush creeping up his neck as he took a step closer, brushing his fingers along her arm again, gentler this time. “Ay, mi vida,” he said softly, his gaze softening, though he still looked frustrated. “It’s just part of the job. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. You should have told me.”

She laughed, but there was an edge to it. “I tried, Franco. But you didn’t even notice. So, I figured maybe you’d pay attention if I reminded you what it feels like.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “You’re right, I wasn’t paying attention. But seeing you like that tonight? Talking to other men like I don’t even exist? It drove me loco, princesa. You know that, right?” His voice softened, filled with a hint of pleading. “No me hagas esto otra vez. I can’t handle it.”

Y/N grinned, but there was warmth in her eyes as she took his hand, squeezing it gently. “Now you know what I feel like, Franco. But… maybe you’re a little cuter when you’re jealous.” She leaned in, brushing a playful kiss on his cheek.

He let out a frustrated groan, pulling her close so their foreheads touched, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her waist. “Mentirosa,” he whispered, half-laughing as his frustration melted into affection. “You know you’re the only one I want, mi corazón.”

The tension between them softened into something familiar, something that was just theirs.

[maruflix]

OUT OF CONTROL !! #oneshot #narumigen #f!reader

Your captain’s hopeless crush on you is a running gag in the First Division. It’s been fun, but Narumi Gen decides that enough was enough.

feat. narumi gen　　⎯⎯　wc. 1.8k

contents: female reader, reader is an officer in the first division, yandere themes, obsessive behavior, reader is kinda iffy too here, i do not condone yanderes irl, no beta we die like kaiju number one

art cred. suou2280 (twitter)

“Why do you hate me?”

You pause mid drinking, lowering the water bottle just enough to catch a glimpse of your captain. “What?”

Narumi Gen stands tensely in the dim light of the training room, his hands crossed in front of his chest. His question is ironic with the way he’s glaring at you so heatedly— like he hates the very idea of you.

“I help you train even if you don’t ask me to,” He frowns, uncrossing his arms, “I ignore your mistakes and transgressions, no matter how bad they are,” his eyes are fixed on you as he takes several steps closer, “I keep you safe during missions, even if it costs me my life,”

He’s right in front of you now, leaning down to your height, “I even kept my distance from you so you wouldn’t get uncomfortable, so why?”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you move away, cheeks burning. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about, Captain Narumi.”

“You don’t?” He repeats mockingly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Very well, let me refresh your memory.”

Air is knocked out of your lungs as he suddenly slams you to the wall, his hands placed on either sides of your head, effectively caging you in the process.

“C-Captain Narumi!” —but Narumi coldly gazes down at you, making your protests die in your throat.

“Tell me, who was it who helped you perfect that kaiju-slaying technique of yours?” His hot breath fans your ears as you gulp, perfectly aware of all the late night practices he’s referring to. Knowing the lazy bum persona he cultivates, training with Captain Narumi is something the other officers can only dream of, yet he tirelessly helps you to grow your abilities until you became one of the strongest officers in the division.

“I’m very grateful, but I don’t see—”

Narumi cuts you off. “Yes, it was me,” He clicks his tongue, making you go silent in shock, “Come to think of it, it’s all thanks to me that you didn’t get in trouble for half the shit you pulled off. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you and your rule-breaking friends? I’m not blind to the things that goes on in my division, officer.”

Alarmed, your eyes snap to meet his as your heart thunders in your ribcage. Which rule-breaking is he referring to? Was it when you and your platoon sneak out for late-night snacks during the three day training camp? Or the secret shortcut you always use when everyone goes for a jog in the mountains? Or was it that one time you saw his bayonet lying around and you tried swinging it around for a few times?

His chuckle breaks your train of thoughts. “Yes, I know everything you did. My office is equipped with a CCTV, you know.” Fuck, so he definitely knows about the weapon thing.

You inhale sharply, ready to beg him for forgiveness, but Narumi isn’t done. “Oh, and remind me who was it that swooped in to save you before you get devoured by a honju?” His face is now so close to yours, you can see yourself reflected in his crimson eyes.

You turn your head away, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t hate you.” Why is he doing this? He has always been so gentle with you, a lovestruck cutie who stutters in the mere presence of you, not this overbearing presence that strips you of your ability to breathe.

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

The slight crack in his voice makes your heart jump as your gaze scrambles back to him— but although he has a pained expression on his face, there’s no mistaking the victorious glint in his eyes.

“You know it, don’t you?” Narumi speaks again, lips stretching to form a boyish grin, “You know about my feelings for you... and instead of giving me a proper answer, you capitalized off of it.”

This is the first time he’s called you out on your actions.

You reach up cautiously, fingers tracing his jaw, “You know you’re the closest person to me, Captain Narumi. I owe everything to you, you know that.”

He exhales, leaning into your touch like a cat. Your raging heartbeat relaxes. There we go. Just calm down and stop talking.

Just when you thought you’ve succeeded in taming the lion, Narumi grabs your hand as his eyes dart upwards, his smile morphing into a cruel smirk. “You’re stalling... and my patience is running thin.”

He flips you, causing you to let out a yelp. Back pressed against his hard chest, you struggle to break free as he holds you by your arms. His hand is already slipping up your thigh and he leans down to plant kisses on your neck.

“W-wait, ah-” You glance, meeting the grey-haired man’s crazed gaze. Narumi’s eyes glow dangerously in the dark room, a piercing crimson that sends shivers down your spine. You know you’ve been playing with fire all along, but you never thought that the consequences would come so quickly.

“You know, I’ve really tried to be patient with you,” Narumi sighs, like he’s chiding a child, “but before I knew it, my affection for you has become a running gag in my own division. I don’t take such humiliation lightly, my love.” His whisper sends a delicious tingle down your neck to your spine, “Give me an answer, now.”

For a while, silence fills the room.

“Before I give you a response, shouldn’t you tell me what you did first?”

Narumi tenses up. There’s something different in the way you look at him now. His grip loosens slightly but it’s enough for you to yank yourself away.

You take a few steps away as he watches you like a hawk. “What happened... to him?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

Oh, but he does. You know he does because he refuses to meet your eye.

“It feels just like yesterday that I gained a new sparring partner, and suddenly he’s transferred to the second division without prior notice? I wonder what happened.”

Narumi squirms.

“Kobayashi. Yamada. Inoue— and recently, Yoshida. What happened to them? What’s with all the sudden transfers? Did the other divisions really need more personnel? Or,” Ignoring Narumi’s burning gaze, you uncurl the fingers that are previously tapping on your chin to point at him, “did you have something to do with that, Captain Narumi?”

He looks at you and you realize that you’ve hit him right on the mark. The last disguise he holds on to for dear life has been ripped to shreds with your accusation.

So you knew — of course you knew — or has he intended for you to find out all along?

“Congratulations, you caught me.” Clapping his hand mirthlessly, he stalks towards you, a pleased smirk on his face. “It’s so tiring to pretend to be a good guy. What do they say— ah, nice guys finish last. I guess there’s some truth to that, because I’ve been nothing but kind to you and all I get in return is being toyed with.”

The moon is high on the sky now, casting a dark shadow over Narumi’s face. You barely have the chance to react before he pulls you into a crushing embrace.

“I no longer have the patience for this. Tell me you love me,” his voice comes out barely a whisper, “hurry up, don’t make me lose my cool.” The desperation in his urging makes you feel like your breath has been seized from you.

Of course you liked him. Who were you kidding? Strong, handsome, and rich, Narumi Gen has it all— and being the your captain’s object of affection is fucking flattering. Everyone else goes to desperate lengths to get Narumi to even spare them a glance, but he stares at you all day like you hung all the stars in his sky.

You like him so much, that’s why you’re afraid. Afraid that you’re just a shiny new plaything that has just caught his eye. Afraid that he will lose interest in you once you reciprocate his feelings. Afraid that you will go back to superior and subordinate once the spark is gone.

You shouldn’t have been so anxious.

“What else should I do?” Narumi holds onto you, desperately clinging to the last shred of his sanity. “What more do you ask of me? I will give it to you, just tell me. Tell me what I should do so you’ll look at me.”

“I love you.”

Narumi’s heart lurches— it’s like the sky has been ripped asunder. His hands tremble as he moves back to hold your shoulders, searching for any signs of falsehood in your eyes.

Your smile pierces through his heart and he wonders why you’re looking at him with those clear, loving eyes.

“What..?”

“I love you, Narumi. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. I wanted to be sure of your feelings before I—”

His lips crashes into yours, making you stumble backwards. He’s there to steady you by the waist, his hand snaking up your shirt and making its way up your back, leaving sparks of electricity from where he touched you.

Then he pulls away, his hand cupping your face gently as if you’ll break under the slightest pressure. For a moment he’s back to the gentle, shy Narumi Gen who treats you like a goddess, but you can see the obsession in his eyes that has become impossible to mask.

Hasegawa’s warning rings in your ear: Narumi Gen is an obsessive and possessive man who hides his resolve under a flippant persona. You recall the worried look in his face as he asks you to tell him if Narumi ever oversteps his boundaries with you.

Well, Narumi certainly did— but that’s just the way you like it.

You tug on his hair, jerking him closer to you and inviting him to kiss you again. He groans involuntarily, ashamed that you’re able to play with him so easily. Moving closer, he stops just before your lips meet, staring at you through half-lidded eyes. “Do you know what this means?”

Narumi wants to cry at the innocent look you throw his way. Now that he’s gotten a taste of you, he knows he can’t let go. He’s fallen too far into the abyss with no hope of clawing himself back out.

“Oh, what have you gotten yourself into?” He muses, lifting your chin up before trailing a finger down your neck— but all you do is lean into his touch, shivering in anticipation.

Your shy, impish smile does little to hide the excitement in your eyes as your eyelashes flutter up at him, tempting him to continue. “What? Do tell me, captain.”

The purr in your voice sends salacious shivers down his spine. In an instant, Narumi comes to a realization— all this time, the one holding the chains has always been you.

[portgasdwrld]

📂 Op men + them being jealous

part 1

Featuring: Monster trio (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

Warning: fluffy fluff, ended up being the monster trio being subtly jealous lol Ik I was going to make it suggestive but I like it better that way, might change it for the others

Note : After 200 weeks, 1500 minutes and 25 years, I’m finally posting this serie after thousands of drafts 👩🏻‍💻 y’all don’t know how many times I wrote and erased stuff 😭

Luffy

The crew just landed on a new island, it was a huge forest, not a person in sight. You weren’t particularly a big fan of walking around in an unknown deserted place, especially in the New World where you never knew on what or who you could fall.

On the other side, Luffy was absolutely fearless and enjoyed the thrill of exploring the unknown and seeing unusual creatures; Sailing was all about that for him. An adventure wasn’t an adventure if he didn’t feel that rush of adrenaline faced to a strange situation. He had insisted you come with the exploring team while you pleaded to stay behind with Robin and Usopp.

But here you were walking glued to Sanji as your boyfriend lead the way somewhere in this lost territory filled with trees and the noises of wild animals. He was screaming in excitement when he came across weird insects or odd looking vegetables. You sighed heavily as the anxiety was still heavily present in your system.

The cook adjusted his pace to match yours sensing your uneasiness about the situation. He knew you only came for Luffy, so he made sure to help you feel more comfortable in his own way.

Luffy ran forward as he noticed a beautiful blue flower tinted with yellow strokes that looked like gentle waves. He took it and searched for you with his eyes.

-This would look so pretty on your hair!

He exclaimed as he walked over to you and Sanji while waving the flower in his tan hand. You smiled as you thought it was adorable, but Luffy’s eyes quickly glared at your arms wrapped around Sanjis. He didn’t say anything and simply fixed the flower behind your ear, complimenting you with loving eyes and his cute grin.

-You look perfect!

He announced as he put his arm around your neck, naturally removing you from Sanji. A giggle left your lips as you melt into his familiar warmth. His eyes looked down at you with so much love and care, he wouldn’t want nothing to happen to you. Sanji laughed as he noticed Luffy successful attempt to get you away from him.

Your boyfriend closed the distance between his face and yours. With slightly furrowed eyebrows and serious eyes, he wondered if you were fine.

-Yeah, I just feel uneasy about walking here if I’m being truly honest. I’m not a fearless warrior like you, let’s say~

You explained calmly as you stared back into his big brown eyes. His expression softened up and he moved his arm to be able to grab your hand instead.

-Alright, then stay close to me only. I’m the strongest, so I will protect you no matter what! I promise!

-You’re sweet, thank you Luffy.

He gave a squeeze to your hand as you two followed the group through the millions of trees. Luffy smiled to himself, knowing you were relying on him to protect you now~

Zoro

It was all going well, a great night where Zoro was simply enjoying his time drinking with the others. It was all going great until he noticed a man that kept staring at you. You didn’t notice as you were busy goofing around with Usopp, enjoying a fun conversation.

Zoro felt this feeling of frustration grow in him the more he glared at the person shamelessly eyeing you like he clearly couldn’t see you were taken. That’s when it snapped for him: maybe they couldn’t tell? And that angered him even more. How can this person stare at you like a candy while he was sitting just next to you.

The swordsman pulled you closer to him, making sure his arm around your waist is noticeable. He smirked relieved when he saw the man look away with an annoyed huff. He took a sip from his beer as his smile got bigger. Zoro took that opportunity to slip a quick peck on your jawline.

You stared at him weirdly, wondering what have gotten into him.

-Wassup with you?

-I cant kiss you or what?

-Yeah, but you don’t usually do that.

-You always complain

He whined as he rolled his eye, but still he was glad that no one was hungrily looking your way anymore. You were his and he would make the possible to make it known. Even if it needed him to be outside of his comfort zone, he was going to make sure you were safe from lingering unwanted eyes (maybe to also make himself feel better)

You gave him a funny look, confused about his unusual bright expression. You pecked his lips not giving too much thoughts about it, before going back to your conversation with Usopp. You leant your body on your boyfriends that surprisingly responded to it by holding your waist tighter and rubbing his thumb against your tummy.

-You’re really acting strange, but I ain’t complaining

You said under your breath so only he could hear. He chuckled as he drank some more. You looked over your shoulder with a smile.

-Great, because you’re not leaving my side tonight.

Sanji

Hand in hand, you two walked through the village in the middle of all the varieties of shops surrounding y’all. You wanted to buy a necklace so you were hopeful to find something of your taste and Sanji was more than willing to help you.

He had already made his grocery shopping with you yesterday and organized everything late in the evening, so it was his rest day. He wanted to enjoy the sunny weather with his awesome lover on this pretty day.

It all started when the seller was proposing you multiple options at the table and he invited you to come in the store for something more refined for a beautiful person like you. Sanji didn't care, because of course you are beautiful, so it was only natural that other people would notice. He nodded excited to see what other options the man had that could fit you even better.

Sanji cocked an eyebrow when the seller pushed your hair behind your shoulders and got close to your face as he commented about you smelling good. You laughed as you thanked him, mentioning how your boyfriend bought the scent for you as you pointed at the cook. He put a gorgeous silver piece around your neck and handed you a mirror.

-What do we think?

He asked with a content expression, you stared at the mirror with a floating smile as you nodded, approving the jewelry.

-It's so gorgeous! Oh! What about this one?

You asked as your eyes flew to a more elegant necklace. You walked away from Sanji quickly as you engaged in a great conversation with the seller about the jewelries and some specific information, that your lover was honestly unfamiliar with. Sanji felt like you kind of forgot about him and started to wander around the store on his own as he kept an eye on you, still.

"...should I get into jewelries.."

It was those type of thoughts that occupied his mind as he sulked in his corner. Though, Sanji is a gentleman and he loved more than anything to see you happy and passionate, so he put his jealousy aside to let you enjoy your moment. So, he put his ego aside and started to think about which one would look hotter on you-

-Chérie, have you find something you liked?

He asked you as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into him. You hummed as you looked at the other man and you both nodded, agreeing on something the cook had no clue about.

-I'm going to take this one, what do you think babe?

Sanji kissed your cheeks and whispered in your ears with a smirk.

-They all look beautiful to me, because you are stunning. I don't think I will be of a great help, my love.

You smiled to yourself, because Sanji likes whatever you wear or not. On his end, he just wanted to leave already and pamper you with kisses & hickeys all over your neck to celebrate your new necklace and maybe to let people know you were his..

[hayatoseyepatch]

Description: You couldn't believe your misfortune. Once more, you found yourself tethered to Sylus, stuck in a closet with no choice but to stay hidden so you both wouldn't be discovered. But this time around, it seems Sylus has every intention of making sure you have a hard time remaining quiet enough not to be caught. Character: Sylus (Love & Deepspace) Word Count: 2.1k Contains: Sylus x Fem!Reader. SMUT. Forced proximity, penetrative sex, semi-public sex (kinda?), trying not to get caught, dirty talk, praise, degradation, Sylus being Sylus.

Authour's Note: So I just realized it's been almost an entire month since I've published an actual fic, 𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖕 𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖕. Hi y'all thanks for sticking around and being patient with me! Between kinktober prepping and working on my matchup event (thanks for being patient I'm getting those out asap) I've been SWAMPED. This is based off the "Immobilized" memory, I couldn't stop thinking about this ever since I pulled it so here we are.. This is my first Love & Deepspace fic, so please be gentle with me, if there's anything I can improve please let me know! I just started playing and I'm already hooked (its so bad save me). Anyways I hope you enjoy!

The enclosed space in the closet is cramped, you and Sylus were chest to chest, both trying to remain quiet as to not be caught. You couldn’t believe you had been so foolish as to forget another one of your belongings in this room. The bond around your wrists still tethering you together, he smirked, a glint in his vermillion eyes as he leaned down. His lips pressed against the shell of your ear, you could feel his hot breath caress the sensitive skin as he speaks. “Careful, kitten, or I’m going to get the wrong idea and think you like being stuck in a cramped space with me.” He teases, that infuriating grin never leaving his lips. You reach your free hand over, shoving him harshly, which only serves to make him chuckle.

You peek through the slots in the closet door, the roommate you had for this event was just sitting down at the vanity in the room to get started on her hair and makeup. You exhaled, careful not to do so too loudly to alert her to the fact you were currently tethered to the leader of Onychinus. The mischievous glint in Sylus’ eye was impossible to ignore. He stood to full height, in two strides in the cramped space, he had your back pressed against the wall. His head ducking to the crook of your neck, his breaths fanning across your skin had your heart racing and breaths coming in unevenly. “What are you doing?” You whisper harshly to him, though your words are hardly threatening due to the way your voice shook from having him so close.

The only response you get is a soft ‘shh’ sound coming from his lips before his lips attach themselves to your neck. His mouth begins to leave open-mouthed kisses up the expanse of your neck, not stopping until his lips reach the shell of your ear. “Seems like we’ll be trapped here for a while, sweetie.” His whisper comes in between rasping breaths to your ear. 

“Let’s see how quiet you can be while we ‘pass the time’, shall we?” His sentence was punctuated with a playful nip to the skin of your neck. His large hand grabbing the back of your thigh to wrap one leg around his hip. Any words you could attempt to formulate would be cut off by the following kiss he presses against your lips. The tension between you two over the last few weeks could be cut with a knife and Sylus couldn’t stand it any longer, he needed to have you. He was a man who seized opportunity, and he saw this as the perfect one to make you his.

You can’t help but melt into the kiss. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you never wondered what kissing Sylus would be like, as frustrated as it made you, you couldn’t help but think of him often. The striking red of his eyes, his broad shoulders, that deep rasp that his voice held making every word he spoke go straight to your- Your trailing thoughts were interrupted by a gasp, feeling him roll his hips into yours, feeling just how much the kiss was effecting him against your center. He pulls from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips for a moment before it snaps. Looking up you meet those vermillion orbs, he lifts a sculpted eyebrow, smirk returning to his features. 

“Someone seems distracted. Something on your mind, sweetie?” His words are hushed as to not draw attention to the third party just outside the closet door. Suddenly your current predicament comes rushing back, alarm bells ringing in your head. “We shouldn’t, what if we get caught?” You look up at him, eyes laced with panic, to which he only chuckles under his breath. 

“Well, then I guess you’ll just have to be quiet then won't you, kitten?” He cuts you off once more with his lips, his tongue slipping past your parted lips with ease. His hand slipping up the smooth skin of your thigh, well past the fabric of your skirt. He relishes the sweet whimper he receives when the pads of his fingers come into contact with the damp fabric of your panties. His next words coming murmured against your lips. “But of course we can always stop if that’s what you want.” He goes to pull from you, grinning when your lips chase his as he attempts to separate. 

“Though if we’re going by the state of your panties, darling, I’d say you want this as much as I do.” He coos, pushing the fabric to the side. He tsks as he collects your wetness on the pads of his fingers, using it as aid to glide his fingers against the sensitive nub of your clit. “So wet, is this all for me, little bird?”

Your fingers grip the fabric of his sweater, so lost in the feeling of him you don’t notice the bind connecting your wrists had vanished. His fingers begin rubbing lazy circles against your sensitive spot, lips returning to your neck. “I couldn’t hear you, kitten, who made you this wet?” He grins as you grip him harder, nails pinching his skin through the fabric. Your words are unsteady and hushed, trying your best to remain concealed. 

“Yes, Sylus, I’m this wet for you.” His grin is palpable, guiding his fingers to your entrance. Rewarding your compliance with a finger sliding past the velvety walls of your cunt. “That’s my girl.” Without hesitation, he slips a second finger inside you, groaning lowly at how your walls contracted around his fingers. Just feeling how tight you were has his eyes rolling back in his head. He works you over with his fingers, digits scissoring inside you to offer some preparation of what's to come. He works you over on his fingers, pumping them in and out of your tight heat. 

“I don’t know, baby, I think if anything’s gonna get us caught, I think it just might be this cute little cunt.” He chuckles softly as you slap his shoulder in protest. “It’s not my fault she’s being so vocal for me, do you hear her?”

His words have heat rising to your cheeks as he speaks. He curls his digits, pads of his fingers expertly hit the spongy spot within your walls that has your eyes seeing while. Bundling his shirt in your fists, lunging forward to sink your teeth into the skin of his neck to muffle your moans as you shake against him. Walls spasming around his fingers as you come undone on his fingers. He hisses upon the impact of your bite but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. He barely allows you time to recuperate, maintaining eye contact as he slips his fingers from your cunt and past his lips, tasting you on his digits and groaning low in his throat. 

“Absolutely delicious sweetie.” He purrs, lifting your thighs to wrap around his waist. Supporting your weight with one hand that grips the plush skin of your ass. In one swift movement, he has his pants unzipped, pulling his hardened member from his boxers. Hand holding the base to position himself at your entrance. “Need to hear you, kitten. Tell me how much you want me inside you.”

Your eyes look up into his own, holding onto him as you're pressed between him and the wall. Chewing on your bottom lip, whimpering as he uses your slick as leverage to tease your clit with the mushroom tip of his cock. Unable to take his teasing any longer, you comply, not recognizing your own voice from the need lacing your tone. “Please, Sylus, I need you. Need you to fill me up with your cock, want to feel you splitting me open, please.” 

Your words send a shiver up his spine, wishing only that he could hear you whisper to him so sweetly on repeat. “Now how could I deny my little bird when she begs me so sweetly?” He grins slipping past the tight ring of your entrance, silencing your sounds with his mouth. Tongues and teeth clashing from the intensity of the kiss both of you being consumed by your need for one another. He spurs on, continuing to sink inch by inch before bottoming out. He lets out a shaky breath against your lips, pulling away just far enough to check that you were okay. The half-lidded expression you send him has his cock throbbing, your eyes begging him to move. The both of you catch the sound of the door shutting outside the closet door, the tell tale sign that you both no longer needed to be quiet. “Fuck, finally, need to hear you kitten. Don’t you dare fucking muffle a single sound, you hear me?” He groans into the skin of your neck.

His hips start to move, setting a brutal pace from the start. Every moan, whimper, and call of his name that slips past your lips goes straight to his cock. The sounds only spurred him to continue slamming his cock against your gummy walls. Leaning forward as he began rolling his hips against your own, pressing another desperate kiss against your lips. He pulls from you after a moment, using his thumb and finger to open your mouth and spitting directly between your now-parted lips. Watching with hunger as he watches your throat contract as you swallow.  

“Gods kitten, so goddamn pretty.” He grunted out throwing his head back, his hands coming to the backs of your thighs, using them as anchors to pull you down on his cock. The feeling has a deep groan slipping past his lips, his eyes rolling back in his head from the intense pleasure. “Fuck sweetie, so fucking tight. Gonna have you molded to my shape by the time I’m done with you.”

His words have you shivering, eyes hazy with pleasured tears glassing over your vision. Feeling your end approaching, needing desperately for him to push you both over the ledge. “Please Sylus, fuck me harder. Fuck, please, Sy can't take it, please.” Your words ignite a fire in him, hand coming to the small of your back pushing you down just a bit further angling your hips for a better angle. 

“Oh? is that really what you want kitten? Want me to breed this pretty little pussy? Have you walk out of here and back to base with my cum dripping down your thighs? Want me to fuck you harder, is that so?” he questions, a satisfied grin on his face, but unable to deny the effect your words had on him. “Well your wish is my command, sweetie, begging me so prettily. Oh so proud of you, that’s my girl.” He grips your hips, slamming them against your own the sounds of skin slapping echoing in the room. “Fuck daddy, please, fuck please” You beg, hearing the pathetic need in your own voice. Your eyes roll back, hearing your own wetness now, coil inside tightening at a rapid rate aching to snap.

Sylus felt his own coil reaching its end. He knew that it was bound to break and crumble, much faster than it usually did from the sheer tightness of your gummy walls. Whimpers started falling from his mouth as he heard your calling to him begging for your own sweet release. His thrusts became sloppy, desperate, as he urged you both to tumble over the edge. 

“Go on kitten, give it to me, you can let go.” He whispered in your ear, making sure that you released before he finished the chase for his own high. Reaching between your legs rubbing your clit in small tight circles, feeling you tighten around him as he shivered a bit. Your cries and begs were like music to his ears. Unable to help it, your hips rolling against the attention to your clit. Hand gripping him by the back of his neck to pull him into a heated kiss, moans spilling into his mouth. One last harsh thrust has your coil snapping, crying into his mouth as your walls clamp down on his cock. Sylus groaned, biting down on your shoulder, sure he would leave a mark in his wake. Falling over the edge himself. A low groan and a cry of your name falling from his lips. His hips slowed as he allowed you both to come down from your highs, holding you close to him. Pressing his forehead against your own as he stilled his hips. 

“So beautiful sweetie, did so fucking good for me. Let's get you home, kitten. Get you nice and cleaned up where you can rest.” Sylus never imagined this being the situation where you both would find yourselves in each other’s arms. But he would be the last to complain, so long as he was finally able to call you his, he couldn’t ask for more.

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @adornedwithlight. Writing & character banners by me. Special thanks to @staraxiaa & @ambiguouslady42 for beta reading for me you guys are the best! Tagging: @pixelcafe-network