#but they both like to talk so it works out

[lucinfernos]

CONTENT CREATOR ARCANE AU INTRODUCTIONS ⭐

finally put together this handy dandy info sheet for your ease of access!

Jayce a.k.a. ManOfProgress (benevolently referred to as MOP by his fans) — 31 years old, he/him, bisexual trans man, Mexican-Brazilian — Started content creation in 2020 as a hobby to battle the pandemic boredom but blew up and decided to make it his full-time gig — Streams games and goofballery on Twitch [623k followers] and posts & streams more personal and unrelated content on YouTube [102k subscribers] — Found Viktor’s channel ~6 months before they started talking and feels very comforted by his voice; sleeps to his videos every night and puts one on whenever he’s anxious or angry — Got into a bad car accident as a child that was fatal to his father and left him with chronic pain on his left leg; now wears a knee brace and a calf compress periodically

Viktor a.k.a. TheMachineHerald — 32 years old, he/him, gay trans man, Czech-Polish — Was unable to leave the house during the peak of the pandemic and found joy and inspiration from Jayce’s content, and chose to start dabbling in content creation in 2022 — Creates very technically advanced and meticulously crafted ASMR videos; usually fully focuses on the mechanical sounds and tech aesthetic but lately has been brancing out more [12,3k subscribers before he gets in kahoots with Jayce] — Started showing his face only around the time when Jayce started watching him and is a bit irritated over the boost in popularity it granted him — Has many health problems, including scoliosis and rheumatoid arthritis (which has caused lung scarring and severe cartilage damage to his right leg and spine from when he was younger and could not access the necessary care to get the inflammation in control)

Mel a.k.a. Melicious (to this day her fans argue whether this is a reference to delicious or malicious) — 33 years old, she/her, bisexual; Jayce’s ex-girlfriend, African-American w/ Algerian roots — Was with Jayce during her time in Piltover but they made the mutual decision to part ways when she was accepted into an art school in London; are still close friends — Made very high-quality weekly diary-style vlogs, often related to art [837k subscribers]. Went on a semi-hiatus after moving but is active on other social medias like Instagram [1,4 million followers]

Jinx a.k.a. GETJINXED — 19 years old, she/they, agender aroace; in a queerplatonic relationship with Ekko, American — Gained popularity on TikTok and later on Twitch when people realized she’s the sister Vi is always complaining about; has no niche and does literally anything she wants to do that day, which usually has to do with either art or engineering [166k followers on Twitch, 850k on TikTok] — Working on an independent music career on the side with their debut single Get Jinxed going viral on TikTok — Lost her finger ON STREAM when working on an art installation, the clip has millions of views

Ekko a.k.a. The_Boy_Savior — 20 years old, he/any, probably nonbinary but he has a job so he doesn’t care abt that rn, bi & asexual; in a queerplatonic relationship with Jinx, African-American — Creates well-researched and thought-provoking video essays about worldwide issues, especially dedicated to the health of the planet and its people [317k subscribers] — Surprised everyone by appearing in one of Jinx’s tiktoks because nobody knew they knew each other let alone that they were in a QPR — Frequently holds fundraisers and has done a lot of good for his community

Caitlyn a.k.a. KillshotKiramman — 23 years old, she/her, lesbian; Vi’s girlfriend and Jayce’s best friend, Chinese-British — Makes videos about weapons (mostly guns and shooting) [176k subscribers] and plays games on her Twitch [29k followers] — Moderates Jayce and Vi’s streams, and completely destroys both of them at FPS games — Had a gun misfiring accident which left her blind in her left eye

Violet a.k.a. vistandsforvideogames — 24 years old, any pronouns, gender-apathetic (call her whatever you like) lesbian; Caitlyn’s partner, American — Gamer on Twitch, but also shares about her side job as a boxer [212k followers] — Sometimes mods for Jayce but mainly just shows up to kick his ass in Mortal Kombat and exude chaotic energy

[catchastarorten]

—Sleep well.

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader

Summary: Gi-hun suggested that the group took turns staying on watch in case the other players attacked, him and Jung-bae stayed up while you and the others napped, Dae-ho took his place beside you to rest with you.

Content: fluff, cuddling(?), you head-butting him in your sleep lol, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not really proofread, sorry!

Word count: 808

You were tucked into the corner with your group—Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Young-il, Dae-ho, and Jun-hee. Trust was a rare thing in the games, but the six of you managed to stick together, watching each other’s backs through the brutal rounds.

The weight of exhaustion clung to you, but Gi-hun’s paranoia kept your eyes open longer than you would have liked. He wasn’t wrong, though. The fear was palpable.

Your group pulled a couple of mattresses off of the bunks, arranging them as best as possible. One was dragged and laid flat against the wall, the others shoved under bunk frames for some semblance of protection.

“Is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under there.” Jung-bae asked, sliding a mattress to Gi-hun, who shoved it under a bunk frame.

“Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us.” Gi-hun said, his eyes focused and his voice steady. “The prize money still goes up if we kill each other. It’s a part of the game they designed.”

You exchanged a look with Dae-ho, who sat cross-legged beside you, holding onto some blankets and pillows. He had been your shadow ever since Red light, Green light. Always sticking close, insisting on protecting you in this place after seeing the way you froze during the first game—when he told you to stay behind him closely so you could use him as a human shield.

“We need to take turns keeping watch after the lights go out.” Gi-hun muttered, sitting down at the foot of the bunk beds, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “I’ll take the first watch.”

The lights flickered out not long after, leaving the only source being the giant piggy-bank hung on the ceiling that was glowing dimly.

It was after a while when Jung-bae rolled out lazily from under a bunk and plopped down beside Gi-hun, the two of them speaking in hushed voices.

You laid down on one of the mattresses, wrapping the thin blanket around yourself. Dae-ho settled beside you not long after, and though you weren’t expecting it, his hand brushed against yours as he shifted to get comfortable, and you were sure you saw his face flush before he hid it, which barely worked, to be honest.

“Don’t worry,” he mumbled, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll fight them off if they try to come over here.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart ache in the best way. Dae-ho had a knack for looking out for you since you met him in the games, even in the little ways—giving you his portion of food, stepping in when someone got too close. You hadn’t known him long, but there was this easy warmth between the two of you.

Within minutes, you were sound asleep.

Dae-ho’s soft snores filled the small space you both shared. Exhaustion had gotten the better of him, just like it did to you. His arm had draped protectively over your side in his sleep, his presence a cocoon of safety.

Gi-hun and Jung-bae sat near the bunks, their attention now drawn to the sound of soft snoring. Both sets of eyes landed on you and Dae-ho, curled up together on the mattress.

“They’re out like a light,” Jung-bae remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You know, seeing them like that... it reminds me of when we went on strike. We were occupying the factory, and management told us to come out. They said anyone who came out voluntarily would be let off the hook and receive more severance pay.”

Gi-hun stared into the distance, as if recalling what happened.

“You were sleeping beside me and you were talking in your sleep. ‘Mom, I’m hungry, give me some food.’” Jung-bae made an exaggerated crying face, and Gi-hun gave him a glare as Jung-bae nudged him with his elbow, smirking.

Their voices echoed, and soon enough, soft laughs filled the quietness.

Jung-bae chuckled again, louder this time. He clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The noise had reached you, and you stirred slightly. Dae-ho, still asleep, curled closer to you instinctively, his arm tightening around your side. His movement caused your head to shift slightly, and without warning, you head-butted him in your half-asleep state of grogginess.

Dae-ho furrowed his brows, a soft noise escaping his lips as he shifted again, burying his face into the crook of his arm. You tugged the blanket over your shoulders, muttering something incoherent before nestling deeper into the mattress, falling right back asleep.

Jung-bae stifled another laugh, his shoulders shaking with the effort. Gi-hun gave him a glare, but a faint smile was already tugging at the corners of his mouth too.

“They’re like kids,” Jung-bae whispered, his tone fond.

“Let them sleep. They’ll need it.” Gi-hun shook his head and sighed softly.

[madamechrissy]

Do I wanna know?

Pairings: Yandere Gojo x Fem reader

Summary: Satoru Gojo knows as soon as he sees you, he'll do anything to have you, but first? He needs you to need him. Ignoring his friendly offer to let you stay with him to save up for a better place, you soon find yourself kicked out by your landlord, and moving in with Satoru. Every thing seems like it's bringing you to need Satoru more and more... yet he doesn't make a move on you, and soon you start putting things together... is Satoru a stalker?? 9k word count

CW - There are SO MANY lol here we go- gaslighting, manipulation, possessive behavior, stalking, Satoru is so Yandere, teasing and tension, explicit sex, rough sex, face smacking, choking, breed kink, videoing without consent, oral sex (both receiving) trying to baby trap mentions of cum, dirty talk (he calls you a slut a lott lol) and misogyny. SATORU BEING PSYCHO but sexy. It's toxic- Based on this drabble

Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one! Thank you for 4k followers omg!!!

You’re not sure how you came to be so close to Satoru Gojo so quickly.

It was as if everywhere you were, he popped up in some way, at first you all met at your work, you were a bartender for a pretty elite club, and Satoru came in along with a few of his CEO friends for drinks once. He had tipped you insanely well, this gorgeous man with shocking white hair, and the most intense blue eyes you’ve seen, you couldn’t even describe the color they were.

Satoru Gojo was rich, handsome, friendly, funny, you couldn’t understand why he even asked for your number. You’re a beautiful girl, but he seemed like the kind of man that had women come to him, but not just that, he’s humble and sweet. He messaged you that night even, hoping you got home safe after your shift, and then asking if you’d like to hang out.

When you pictured hanging out, you honestly pictured maybe a date, or something intimate, but it was just coffee the first time, and he asked real questions about you. The next time you all went to a concert he had tickets for, and you had invited him into your apartment when he’d dropped you off, offering a drink to him.

That’s when Satoru saw your shitty little apartment.

He scoffed, walking around while you went to grab two beers, earning a view of your ass that had him shifting himself in his pants, but he was so upset then, he knew where you lived from the outside, he’d watched you plenty, but this? It’s a teeny one bedroom nothing, surely he could treat you much better than that, you deserved a penthouse, his penthouse.

He’d been watching you since that night weeks ago, he could not get his eyes off you, you took his breath away when his eyes had shifted up your body in that slutty bartending outfit. God he can’t wait until you’re not allowed to wear that anywhere, until you’re all his, and oh he knows you want him, he sees the desire in your dilated eyes, how your lips part when you look at him.

But not just yet.

Satoru can’t just fuck you, no you need to be his and you need to stay his, never, ever leaving him, and to do that he needs you begging for him. He needs there to be no other ideas in that pretty head of yours, so he decides to be your ‘friend’. Even when you step a little closer, lowering your lashes, eyes drinking him in when you take a sip from your bottle.

Beer? You should have top shelf champagne.

Satoru can do that for you.

“Thank you so much for tonight, Satoru.” You say softly, a hand trailing up his chest then, he tilts his head, blue eyes assessing you hungrily.

“Why live here?”

You blink now. “Well, it’s cheap and safe?”

“Don’t you make good money?”

“Um… yeah but I have student loans out the ass for my failed creative writing degree.” You roll your eyes and sigh, earning his chuckle.

“Failed? Didn’t pass?”

“No, I did but it’s useless I guess now. I should’ve gone into medical and been a little smarter, but I didn’t listen.”

“Is it your passion?” You nod then, with a little smile.

Satoru can make it happen, surely.

“You could always stay with me.” You cough then, you all barely know each other. “I have a huge place, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I could never impose like that. Don’t feel so sorry, Satoru, I swear I’m good here.” You lean in now, Satoru leans down, big hand caressing your face, tilting your chin up, his look so intense you can’t breathe. Breaths come in quick pants as your gaze hits his plush, glossy lips, imagining them everywhere.

“It’s an open offer, if anything happens. I’ll be…” He smirks a bit, leaning even closer, so close you taste the sweetness of his cool breath. “All gentlemanly and everything.”

“Would you be?” He chuckles now, lips just an inch from yours, your chest is rising and falling, heart thudding at just what his touch does. “What if I don’t want you to be one right now?”

“What’re you asking, sweets?”

“I…” The phone rings now, you clear your throat, realizing you were about to beg this almost stranger to fuck you.

What’s wrong with you!?

“I am sorry, let me see who it is.” Satoru smiles good naturedly, but you don’t see the glare from behind you, as he scowls at the phone, seeing another man’s name. You text him that you’re busy quickly, earning a little relief for him.

“Boyfriend?” You whirl around now, eyes narrowing a bit.

“No, um… ex boyfriend. We were together for years though, even in college, so we keep in touch sometimes.”

Satoru’s jaw sets, and something… changes then, confusing you a bit, as he sets his drink down. “Who broke up with who?”

“Um, he did.” Your cheeks heat up now under his scrutiny. “I’m sure you don’t wanna talk about my ex though.”

Oh, he does.

He wants your attention all on him, and not a bit of that should be for your ex, who didn’t even want you!? How could anyone not want you? Your gorgeous face that fucks his dreams up, your perfect body like you’re built just for him, how sweet you are, and those damn eyes of yours. He can’t wait to see them fucked out, to see you drooling.

Can’t wait to make sure you never text this man again.

“Is something wrong?” You ask now, he smirks, brightening his face so you don’t figure out all his thoughts.

“Nah, sweets, just curious who’d break up with you.” His casual words hit hard, as he brushes your hair back now, leaning in again and you think maybe he’ll kiss you finally, but he just stares at you, holding your face with strong hands.

So strong he could really crush you if he wants, you feel so small in his presence, so overwhelming. Then he brushes his lips up and against your cheek, your eyes flutter shut, your body throbbing with need, but he pulls away after the little kiss on your face, those blue eyes glittering now, he grins all bright and beautiful, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

“Well, I’m off now, enjoy your night, huh?” You blink a bit at that, wondering then, is something not to his liking about you? You’re studying yourself in the mirror after he left, picking yourself apart.

Your makeup is perfect still, your outfit is sexy, you look really good, and you’d damn near been begging for him silently. Maybe he wasn’t interested? Then why did he look at you like that? You sigh now, washing your face and getting down to just your bra and panties, picking back up the phone and finally writing your ex back, then seeing a text from Satoru.

Satoru: Had fun, sweets. Good night.

You: I had fun too… you didn’t have to leave so early.

Satoru smirks, still in his car, watching your silhouette from behind your curtains, gently walking back and forth, he glares when he realizes you are likely naked or damn close to it. He is going to have to teach you some lessons, it seems, because you are already trying to show the world what’s his.

Or will be.

Satoru: It was getting late, did you want me to stay?

You: Maybe I did. Thank you for tonight though.

Satoru: No problem, love.

Love… that does something to you, Satoru does something to you, when your head hits the bed and you’re staring up at the ceiling. Your ex texts you again, but this time you ignore it, thoughts whirling, you still feel the touch to your cheek, having fucked you up more than even being intimate with someone.

Satoru Gojo, who was he really?

*****

“Hey, hey… what’s wrong?” Satoru knows what’s wrong, he is all sweet hugs and rubbing your back though when you are at his place the next week, sobbing against his chest.

“I’m so sorry… I… My landlord just kicked me out!? And I did nothing wrong, she said she’s renting it for triple to someone? I was past my lease, but shit.” Satoru smiles, but you don’t see it, buried against his strong chest as he strokes your hair softly, pleased that you came to him.

You’re such a good girl.

“Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. Shh.” He’s consoling you so sweetly, you pull back, seeing his concerned gaze as you blink away tears, swiping at your cheeks.

“I can’t afford three times the rent? Satoru I… I make decent enough money, if I could just pay you for a room until I find somewhere? I-”

“Nonsense.” He cuts you off, and your stomach flutters when he’s brushing a hand across your back, palm pressing into the fabric of your dress, like it’s burning you with a touch. “You stay here for free, save up money, yeah?”

“I can’t do that, I have to pay you something. It’s already a huge imposition-”

“Have you seen this place? It’s not shit to have you here, won’t cost me anything anyway.” You have seen it, his insane penthouse with a view that’s fucking ridiculous. It’s spotless, only the finest everything all over, you know Satoru’s very wealthy as a CEO but he screams old money too.

“I would feel terrible. Could I cook, pick up?”

“I have cleaners. Cooking though… yeah, you good at it?”

You smile tremulously, wiping your eyes again. “I’m so good! I also could give the best neck massages after work?”

“Now that sounds perfect. It’s a deal then, stay as long as you need, but cook yummy things. As for a massage, we’ll see if you’re good as you say.”

“Swear, they’re magic! Oh goodness, I have to get to my shift soon, ugh… is there a way you could help me get my things? I’ll just leave the furniture, it’s old, I can buy new shit.”

“Absolutely.”

You hug him tightly, kissing his cheek then, he tenses at it, at the brush of your lips, at the curves of your body against him. Fuck he can’t wait to make you his.

“Satoru Gojo, you're amazing.” He chuckles then.

“I know.”

*****

Living with Satoru Gojo, who walks around shirtless is… difficult. Your tummy clenches, mouth gulping the first time you see him, his chiseled perfect body, all dewy after a shower. Towel slung across his neck, sauntering over to you with that smirk of his, so casual as you’re in the kitchen chopping up veggies, he brushes his fingertips across your back, driving you insane.

Shivers slink down your spine when he leans over you, breath against your neck, you damn near arch back into him as he murmurs in your ear. “Looks yummy.”

Fuck.

You take a shaky breath, hands trembling as you then nick yourself with the knife, you wince then. “Ow, shit!”

“Lemme see.” He takes your hand gently, peering at the drop of crimson that pushes out in droplets then, the way he takes your hand even is too much.

Weeks of living together, walking around in arguably almost nothing in front of him, and he hasn’t hit on you, despite his eyes devouring you, like they’re touching you. No he’d smile and lazily trail his gaze, maybe brush against you in the kitchen, give you a hug after work, you’d rub his neck just so and he’d grip your wrists, smiling up at you, to the point you’re losing control.

All you can think of is him.

Satoru loves it that way, too, he loves hearing you murmur his name in your sleep, he’s got cameras all over, especially in your room, and he can even hear you on them. Your little whines of pleasure, he’d see how your hands would move under your blankets, as you stayed as quiet as can be, but he heard your whimpers, your sweet little moans.

He strokes his cock every night watching you, listening, waiting.

He needs you to really need him.

“Just a little nick, I’m fine.” You assure him, then your mouth drops as he takes your finger, sucking it into his mouth.

He’s sucking on your damn finger, hot wet mouth and the lewd images destroying the fragile hold you have on your sanity, snowy lashes lowered as he presses his tongue up on your fingertip, putting pressure. You stand there quiet, but then there’s a little sound that escapes your throat, a little whine, and when he pulls back he smiles knowingly.

He licks his lips, a drop of blood on them, tilting his head as he releases your finger now. “Better?”

“Um… y-yes. Thank you, Satoru.” You manage to speak somehow, your voice hoarse, you clear your throat then. “Clumsy.”

“Mind somewhere?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Another week goes by, Satoru watches you every chance he gets, when he’s at work he watches you on his phone, he’s got a tracker in yours, for your safety you know, when something concerns him. Your daily trips were work, maybe the store, and a couple times a week the gym. But you’re somewhere he’s never seen you at, and it concerns him then.

Where are you?

He zooms in on the location.

Someone’s house?

Satoru’s jaw tightens then, and when you’re home that night, you notice he’s not friendly, or sweet, or talkative. He barely responds as you try to engage with him, and when you go to rub his neck, he stops your hands with an icy glare. “What’s… did I upset you?”

“How could you upset me?” He stands up, looming so tall, you shrink back just a bit, the backs of your legs hitting the fancy grey couch, until you’re sitting in it, and Satoru’s arms are on either side of you. “How could you, sweets, hmm?”

“I… I don’t know? Um…” Your mouth goes dry when he gets on his knees, spreading your thighs, your breaths coming quicker, pussy throbbing around nothing, thinking of him, feeling his long slender fingers on your skin. “Satoru?”

“You’re a perfect girl, aren’t you? A good girl?” Your hips shift, his eyes dart down, smiling as he peeks under your skirt now, a wet spot forming on your panties, he can’t wait to finally taste you, when you’re good of course.

“Good girl? I… don’t know.” Your hands are at your side, his face is right against yours again, your thighs on either side of his body, pressing into him.

“What’d you get up to today?” He asks, all casual like he doesn’t know, as he assesses your body for marks, bites, hickeys. Your body belongs to him, even if you don’t know it just yet. He finds none, making him just a little less furious, but now he feels the plush of your thighs in his grip, picturing shoving them against your chest.

You’d look so sexy in a mating press, wouldn’t you?

“I um… went to grab dinner, then I gave some shit to my ex that I had left from the apartment.” Satoru exhales in relief.

“Oh yeah? I could’ve helped you, love.”

“No, it’s awkward. I was holding onto it, I decided to just let it go, he didn’t choose me, you know?”

“Who wouldn’t choose you?” You lean forward, his eyes dart to your breasts, as a strap slips over your shoulder.

“Satoru, you're too good to me, and why? How have I come to deserve you in my life?” He exhales, adjusting the strap with two fingers, brushing your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps, he watches your nipples perk up under your tank top, furious that anyone has ever seen them.

“Is that all? You gave him his shit?” He tries to hide his anger, his jealousy.

“That’s all.” You answer, and he stands again, leaving you wanting and empty when he’s not touching you.

“Should have asked me to help. I’m calling it a night, yeah?” You manage a little nod, he tilts your chin up as he stands over you, your body reacting so violently you’re shaking damn near, unable to stop the reaction. He smiles knowingly, leaving you then, and you glare at his strong, perfect back as he walks off, giving you a little look before going to his room.

Satoru knew you saw him somehow? You can swear it. Are you freaking out for no reason? Surely he didn’t care what you did, he maybe just wanted to make sure you were okay, maybe he could sense you were stressed somehow?

Then why is there this gnawing feeling?

*****

The next day you’re trying to get to work, and your car won’t turn over. You curse it out, it’s old sure but it’s strong and has a good engine. Satoru had already offered to give you one of his cars, saying you could pay him back later, as if you could ever afford a Mercedes Benz. You’d turned him down of course, and now he’s standing in his insanely huge parking garage, right out the side of your window.

You open the door, sighing as you get out of the car. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it, ugh!”

“It’s an ancient relic?”

“Hey!” You playfully shove him, laughing then. “It is, I guess. But I don’t know why it won’t start?”

“I’ll have my mechanic check it, he’ll love this archeology.”

“Satoru!” You’re laughing so hard then, god he always makes you laugh, you wish he’d make you moan but you throw those thoughts far back.

“I’m kidding, sweets, kinda.” He narrows those blue eyes, his jaw tensing just a bit then as he assesses your car.

Couldn’t be because he took out your catalytic converter.

“Hmm, maybe a dead battery or alternator went out?” Satoru looks at you amusedly, you’re cute, knowing something about cars. But he needs you to stop worrying about things like that.

“For now, I’ll take you to work, yeah?” You exhale, nodding then.

“Thank you so much, Satoru, you’re so sweet to me.” You say later, as he drops you off at work, top down, grinning with those Gucci shades hiding those baby blues, some of the girls from the bar are out front, they start giggling when they see the two of you.

“He’s so hot!?” One of your friends loudly whispers.

“Shh, I know!” Gojo hears you though, grinning as he swipes a hand through his snowy locks.

“Hello, ladies.” He says, getting out then to come open your door, earning the swoons of everyone. You smile gratefully at him.

“Thank you, Gojo.”

“No worries, tell me when to pick you up, mmkay?” You nod then, he gives you a little kiss on the head, and your friends make no secret of how fine they think he is.

“Is he your man?” Your other friend asks, you shake your head then, while Satoru gets back in the car. “Bitch, why?”

“Is he single?” Your other friend asks.

Something makes you sick then, thinking of seeing Satoru with other women, and surely it would happen soon, yeah? He’s gorgeous and can get who he wants, and he hasn’t yet shown he wants you. You peek back at him as he is starting back up his car, looking at your friend again.

“He’s single.” Satoru wants to laugh at you. He’s not single, you’re his already,  you just haven’t gotten where he needs you.

“Why not date him?”

“He’s not interested. Drop it.” You hiss, waving at Satoru, he tilts his glasses down then, the unreal eyes behind the snowy lashes drinking you in.

“Have a good day, sweets.” He leaves a bunch of giggling, whispering friends and heat on your cheeks when he drives off, grin glinting in the setting sun, because now he knows just where you are.

*****

After two more weeks of living with Satoru, you’re at about a month with him, and despite the endless little brushes against your skin, the little touches while you cook, the hugs and pecks on your cheeks, he never makes a move. You moan just a little louder at night thinking of him, wondering then when you’d see him in the morning why he looked so tired.

You’re wondering about lots of things.

“Satoru, do you date?” You ask one day, and he looks at you lazily, trailing up and down your body the way he does, the way that makes you ache with longing.

“Do I date? I haven’t in a while, why?”

“You’re so… you?” He snorts then.

“What’s that mean?”

“Like, gorgeous? Smart and sweet? Rich? How do you not date?”

“When I get with someone it’ll be permanent, there won’t be any dating or fucking around, so I guess I’m kind of picky about it. Why? Would it make you jealous if I brought a girl over?”

Yes, yes it would.

“Oh, no, I’m cool with whatever. It’s your place, I just live here.” Satoru leans you against the counter then, barring you with strong arms, his thigh brushing between yours, he feels it then, the heat that builds as you shift your hips just a bit, eyes darting up to his.

“Wouldn’t mind if I fucked someone right here? Ya sure?”

“It’s your place.” You manage weakly again, watching thin nostrils flare, his pupils blown out as you shift again, and he feels your hot pussy against his thigh, your hands slipping up his shirt slowly. “You like to fuck, Satoru?”

He blinks now, shifting his thigh, tilting his head as he studies you. “You’re asking if I like to fuck?” You nod, just barely, and one of his hands slips down your side, his cock throbbing under his jeans, thinking about devouring your pussy right on the kitchen counter. He already has tasted you off those panties he stole, he imagines it’s even sweeter from the source. “Do you?”

Your cheeks flush, eyes lowering nervously, Satoru tilts your chin up, making you look right at him. “I didn’t like it much, no, but… I like to…”

“Play with your pussy?” You bite your lower lip, rolling your hips once more, waiting for him to break, but he acts casual as he’s ruining what’s left of your addled mind. “You brought it up, don’t be shy.”

“Yes, I like to. Do you… play with…”

“Slutty questions.” He smirks now, backing up, you look in horror as you realize you’ve left a damn wet spot on his thigh, but he brushes it with his thumb leisurely, lapping it off his tongue, leaving you with your mouth open. “Mmm. Have a good night, pretty.”

You’re shaking when you get to your room, literally dying over him, knowing he’s in the next room but won’t come near you is torture, but for him it’s fun. He’s watching you pace around your room avidly, damn near chuckling when you strip off your clothes so quickly, flopping on the bed and covering your face with your hands, pressing your knees together.

He’ll make you feel better soon, don’t worry.

But then, you pick up your phone, earning his glare that of course you can’t see, he picks up his other phone now, the one that shows him every message and call you make. Some guy has been trying to ask you out for a couple weeks, but you’d ignored him, like a good girl. Now, however… you’re texting him back!?

That just won’t do.

He’s so absorbed in staring at your messages, as you smile just a bit, wondering if there was a way to get under Gojo’s cool exterior.

Maybe a date with someone?

******

You’re dressed in some slinky outfit, it hugs your body just right, hitting about mid thigh, a black lacy little number. You step out of your room, his mouth drops open when he sees you, too much of your smooth skin revealed, your breasts on display for everyone who would see, you smile up at him all pretty and do a little spin as he grips his hands into fists.

He wants to rip that dress the fuck off you, bury his cock inside your pretty little cunt and fuck you hard, fuck you so hard you sob those eyelashes off, so hard your perfect hair is a tangled goddamn mess. Teach you that you’re his and only his, that you belong to him, have you cum so hard you can’t form anymore thoughts of ever leaving in your pretty head.

He can’t even speak when you nervously ask, “How do I look?”

How do you look? You look like you need your ass beat, your clit overstimulated to the point you beg him to stop, look like you need to get that pretty neck choked out by his big hands. And that little smile on your face, like you know just what you’re doing to him? Satoru’s teeth click together, jaw tensing now while he sits there on the desk chair looking at you.

“You look gorgeous. But then you always do.” You blush at that, lashes lowering at the praise. “But why so dressed up? Going out with… friends?”

You know he knows.

You hear it in his voice, in how tense it gets. You smile then, shaking your head, lacing your fingers together in front of you as you feel those blue eyes touching your skin. “No, I’m going on a date.”

Satoru’s little facade breaks for just a moment, he can’t keep it up just now, and it’s like you know, you’re being this little brat and not his sweet little thing right now. He can’t wait to fuck the attitude out of you, as hard as it’s making him. “Oh? A date, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while you know.” You step up to him just a bit, smiling so pretty, devious little brat. “A while.”

“A while.” He repeats, voice hoarse, before realizing you’re trying to play him, aren’t you? “Since?”

“Since anything. This guy seems super nice, maybe he’ll… think I’m hot, you know? Be attracted too? We’ll see.”

“Who wouldn’t want you? That’s stupid.” He huffs.

“Oh, is it? Well I’m not everyone’s type, you know?” You blink those damn lashes at him, he raises a brow. “So we’ll see. But don’t wait up for me, hmm?”

“Don’t you need a ride?” He asks, as you head towards the door, grabbing your little purse now.

“Oh no, he’s going to come get me, don’t worry.” Satoru’s hand stops yours on the knob, hard body pressed against your back, your breath catches, quickening now, watching the veins raise on his hand, as it covers yours completely. “Something wrong, Satoru?”

“Just wanna make sure you’re safe, you should let me take you.”

“Don’t even impose yourself, I’ll be fine.” You turn and look up at him, his plush lips just a breath from yours. “Everything okay?”

“Of course it is, you can text me if you need me to get you though, okay?” You exhale now, slightly dejected.

You want him to say he doesn’t want you to go, fuck you want him to grab you and keep you here, he makes you feel so fucking toxic, the insane thoughts making your mind whirl, your tummy coil with desire. One of his hands grips your hip, and you feel his length against your back, your eyes shut as you grip the door knob so hard it hurts.

“I asked you something, sweets.” His grip tightens, you open your eyes again, looking up at him.

“Of course, Satoru.”

“Have fun then.” He is back to being a bright, happy Gojo, blue eyes glittering, letting you go when you ache for him to drag you against him. “Be safe, yeah? Creeps everywhere, stalkers even.”

He’s following you in his car as soon as you take off in this asshole’s car, he tracks your location and finds you’re at some restaurant, he sees you then, up front at a table shivering a bit in your slutty dress. Part of him thinks, that’s just what you get, but another part thinks, fuck this dude for not giving you his jacket, Satoru sizes him up with a flick of his eyes, fists clenching the steering wheel.

You keep peering at your phone, you don’t look like you’re really having fun, what are you playing at? Are you trying to make him insane, trying to make him more jealous than he already was? He was jealous anyone even fucking saw you altogether, he thinks how good it would be to breed you constantly, to keep you knocked up with his babies, stay at home for only his eyes to see.

The thoughts drive him insane, as does seeing this dude’s hand on your bare thigh now, thighs for him to touch, he is so furious he almost blows his cover, taking several breaths as he prepares to rip this dude’s hands off. How dare anyone touch you!? And then he gets it, your text.

Satoru, I’m so sorry, but are you busy?

Satoru exhales in relief, leaning his head back on the driver’s seat, brushing his hand across his face.

Having fun on your date?

Satoru is being petty but he can’t help it, he sees your cute little glare as you poke on your phone, and his hand slips higher up your leg.

Not really. I’ll be fine though, sorry.

Satoru panics now.

What’s wrong?

He watches as you type.

I feel really uncomfortable, could you please come get me? I’m so sorry to put you out like this…

Satoru comes right out of the car, walking across the street now, and your eyes widen in shock, lips parting as he saunters up, grinning and holding out a hand. “Hey pretty, wanna get out of here?”

“Excuse me!?” The man sputters, but you giggle, Satoru wonders if you’re the crazy one here, him or you?

“I’d love to.” You put your little hand in his, following him to his car then, when Satoru slides in however he cups your face, grip tight on you, his eyes glaring and fucking furious. “How’d you get here in ten seconds? Instant transmission like Goku?”

“You’re such a brat.” He mutters, glaring now as you grin, one hand in your hair, pulling, making you cry out, a sound that makes Satoru’s cock leak precum, just from the sound of you. “You did this it piss me off, hmm?”

“Why would you be mad, Toru?” You put a hand on his thigh now, leaning forward, showing more and more of your breasts. “You don’t even want me like that, haven’t you made it clear?”

He starts laughing now, he’s feral, manic in his insane laugh, pulling your hair even harder. “I don’t huh? Then tell me what the fuck this is?”

Satoru takes your hand putting it over his clothed cock now, you whimper feeling him for the first time, hard for you, his breaths coming faster and faster as you go to stroke him, earning his own throaty moan. “Are you jealous?”

“No, because he’s not shit, and you’re mine anyway.”

“How am I yours!? Don’t even kiss me. Don’t even-”

Satoru yanks you to him, slamming his lips on yours then, devouring your mouth, tongue swiping in every inch of it, swirling as he loses his fragile sense of control. You taste so good, you feel so good, he’s wanted you for so long, he’s brutal with his lips, with his teeth, with how he grips your chin so fucking tight. You’re falling apart for him, then, when he yanks back.

His breath is hot on your lips, his hand slipping between your thighs then, you can’t stop the cry that escapes your lips, when he finds you over your panties, soaking wet for him. “This for me, or for him?”

“Stupid- ah!” Satoru pulls your hair so hard tears prick your eyes, stroking you over your sticky panties.

“Watch that mouth, and that attitude before I fuck it out of you.” His whisper and his touch makes you drip down his fingers, you’re arching your hips as he touches you, pressing on your clothed clit now. “So you get this wet for me?”

“You get that hard from me?” You counter, he laughs again, shaking his head at your audacity, slipping his finger under your panties now, finding your bare cunt.

“Stupid fucking soaked, huh? From a kiss?”

“Just touch me, please…” You’re begging him now, leaning closer, lips pressing against his, drinking his moans when he shoves two fingers in your eager hole, stretching you and making you gasp. “Satoru…”

“Do you deserve to cum, after acting this way?” He demands, curling his fingers up in your slick walls, pressing that spot that has your eyes rolling back, entire body reacting to him, dripping down his sleeves, his watch you’re so wet. “Answer me.”

The first slap on your cheek shocks you with the sting that throbs, you glare at him, slapping him back on his pretty face, earning him gripping your wrist brutal as his fingers fuck into you. The car is heating up right in the middle of the damn street, you hear your pussy squishing, hear your cries and gasps.

“Asked you a question, sweets. Seeing your ex, going on a date, showing off this body to everyone? Ya think you’re a good girl?” You shake your head then, and he groans, kissing you messy, tongues drooling saliva, thumb finding your clit now, and you’re close, so close, clinging to him.

“N-no but… please…” He laughs as he pushes you to the edge, sucking you off his fingers then, groaning, cheeks hollowing.

“Fuck you taste even better than your panties.”

“My what!?”

“C’mere, ya wanna be a good girl for me?” You blink rapidly, nodding then, and he revs up the car, pulling out, you are jostled as he begins to drive like a maniac, you’re grasping him, half thrown on his lap.

“Where are we going?”

“Home. You’re gonna make it up to me, being so slutty, huh?”

“Slutty?”

“Slutty mouth.” Satoru unzips his pants then, and you gulp when you see him for the first time, thick and long, veiny cock so pretty, the tip pink, drooling drops of precum already. You stare at it, he feels it as he drives, peeking at you now, grabbing the back of your hair again. “Put it to use, and I’ll let you cum.”

“Fuck…” You have never done something like this, but you find yourself bent over him then, taking your tongue and lapping at the precum on his tip, while he drives with one hand, his other, entangling against the nape of your neck.

“Gonna be my perfect little slut, no one else's, huh?” You nod eagerly, you’re stupid, this man literally stalked you on your date, he’s acting possessive and psychotic, but your pussy is clenching around nothing. “Say it.”

“Your perfect little slut.” You whisper, he moans then, husky and guttural as you suck him in your mouth now, hot and wet, swirling your tongue around the ridge of his tip, earning his hips bucking, cock twitching.

“That’s it, I knew you could behave. There you go, good girl.” You’re trembling, sucking him deep in your throat, over and over as your cunt is drooling, dripping down the panties that are becoming soppy wet and pathetic like you. “Feel that slutty mouth, never gonna suck anyone again, are you baby?”

“Mmm…” You’re moaning eagerly, sucking his cock as deep as you can, he’s shoving your head fully down to where you’re slobbering all over him, tears pricking your eyes, you’re shaking while he uses your throat, your mouth, as your taste his salty precum, shoving it in your throat deeper and deeper.

“F-fuck… you’re finally being good, huh? Bet you wanna cum, bet your pussy is soaked, yeah?”

He knows you can’t answer, he’s loving the choked out sounds you’re making as you suck him down more and more, until he finally pulls up to his house, he pulls you off him, cock glittering with your saliva. He moans, kissing you again, teeth sinking into your lip, tasting himself off your tongue, you’re whining, trembling, he chuckles just a bit then.

“Look at you, sucked it that good? Should I fucking be mad?” He demands then, you gasp at his touch on your pussy again.

“It’s been a long time for me, okay?” You whisper, he exhales now.

“No one will touch you again when I’m done, yeah? No one.” You nod weakly, Satoru smiles now. “Good, you’re so good f’me.”

Satoru’s got you in his penthouse so quickly you’re disoriented, and as soon as the door is closed behind you, he grabs you, slams you against the wall, and kisses you again, hard and desperate. His hands slips down to your ass, squeezing it roughly in his big palms, long fingers pressing in as he takes over everything, making you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his cock pressing against your tummy now, thick and insistent, on your tummy, half put up, his pants unzipped, and you can’t help but arch into him, rubbing against him, tip toeing to get close. He’s so rough with you, so demanding, and it’s making you wetter, making your body respond in ways it never has before, it’s insane what he’s doing to you.

He shoves a hand back up your dress, twisting your panties to the side again, rubbing in teasing circles, as tears fall out of your eyes, looking at them and moaning. “You’re crying?”

You manage a sniffle, fuck you looks so perfect like this, in tears for him, it only makes Satoru’s cock spurt more precum, so hard it hurts, he can’t wait to bury it so deep in you, he’s picturing it as he slides his fingers into your soaked cunt. You moan loudly, you’re tiny hands clinging to him, leg around his hip, letting his fingers fuck you deeper.

“Hear it? You’re so loud, so messy, huh?” He’s whispering, all you can do is nod, pupils so blown out your eyes are dark. “Look at you, fucked out from my fingers? That won’t do, baby.”

You barely register his fingers sliding out of your pussy again, you whine at the emptiness, but then he’s on his knees, shoving your dress up over your hips, yanking your panties off you. He’s throwing one of your legs over his shoulders, bright blue eyes staring up under his snowy lashes, you’re clinging to his hair, chest rising and falling as he places a kiss on your pussy.

“You were so good, I’ll treat you so good, hmm? Make you feel s’good?” You just nod, earning a smack on your pussy, making you gasp. “What do we say, little slut?”

“Please.” Satoru Gojo then his face buried between your legs, his tongue sliding along your slit, tasting your arousal that starts pouring down his mouth. You gasp as he nibbles on your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

He’s eating you out like he’s starved, slutty moans from both of your throats, your head slamming against the wall. His stupidly long  tongue is moving in circles around your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, and you can’t believe how good it feels. You’ve never been with a man who’s so hungry for you, who devours you like this, his fingers making your squelching wetness even louder.

Your hands entangle in those silky white locks as he fingers and licks like he’s always known how to, but it comes so natural, flicking his tongue against your little twitchy clit over and over. Your cunt is so wet his fingers slip, before shoving back in, pressing your spongy spot inside your little hole, all while you’re a pathetic mess, sniffling and hiccuping.

He can’t wait to make you stupid for him, beyond this, beyond anything, can’t wait to own you, possess you in every fucking way. As he sucks your tiny clit in his hungry mouth, he moans against it, looking up and watching you shatter for him. You’re so close to cumming, you can feel it building.

“Gonna cum, please, please-” You whine out, gasping, thighs shaking as you’re too weak to stand, but then he stops, leaving you gasping for breath, your body on the edge, pulsating all over through every vein..

“Beg for it.” He orders, sadistic smirk on a face half soaked with you, as he licks his lower lip, glossy.

“Please, Satoru, please make me cum.” You whisper, your voice shaking, and he groans, shocking you when he yanks you down, you slam onto the ground wincing and gasping as you hit the floor, and he starts palming at your dress, until he’s ripped it completely off you. “Satoru!? What!?”

Your dress is in pieces now, much to his pleasure, all you have now is what’s left of it under you, and you’re naked aside from heels and a bra. “You’ll never wear that fucking dress again, got me? Showing off what’s mine when I wasn’t even with you? Do you hear me?”

You nod then, you should be terrified, but fuck you want him too much, as he shoves your thighs up high, then dives back in, his tongue swirling around your clit, his teeth grazing it again as he bites it. You scream out at the pain, he shoves those fingers back in, three this time.

“Too much, too much!” You’re sobbing out, and he laughs now.

“No baby, your slutty pussy can take it, huh? Lemme hear you scream my name.” He shoves his fingers in so deep and his tongue is drinking you as your orgasm hits you, your body convulsing against his mouth, your juices flowing onto his face, everywhere.

You can hear him, lapping you up, drinking every bit, all while the best orgasm of your existence makes you blind, you’re floating, the only thing that tethers you is when he looks down at you, fingers still buried. He slams his lips back on yours, you taste your pussy on his lips, whimpering and clinging to him desperately, bare as he’s fully dressed.

“You’re made for me, only me to taste, just me.” You just nod, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “Can’t talk baby?”

“You, jus’ you… Toru…” He’s picked you up to stand, before he’s pulling you up against him, holding your naked frame against him, carrying you to your bed now, lips not coming up for air until he’s tossed you on your bed.

“Bra off, now.” He orders, you do as he says, tossing it and then peeking at the camera you know is there, smiling before you look back at him. He’s glaring, unbuttoning his dress shirt now. “Looking at something?”

“Oh, nothing. Do you record? Will you stroke yourself to this later?” He slips off his shirt, leaving you speechless until he’s laying on top of you again, eyeing your perfect tits and little smile.

“You knew?” You tilt your head now, leaning up on your elbows, a hand stroking his cheek.

“Did you like how I played with my pussy in front of it? How I moaned your name?” Satoru’s ended now, scowling at you.

“You liked it, being watched? By me?” You nod again, swallowing as he slides off his pants, yanking off your heels, kissing along the tops of your feet before lapping at your ankles. “You did it knowing?”

“You wouldn’t come to me.”

Satoru’s eyes are on you, you’re his entire world now, his obsession, his fixation. He’s going to claim you, fuck you until you forget every other man who ever existed. He’s going to ruin you, and you’re going to love it, he can already tell when his cock is hot and heavy against your inner thigh, when your hips are rolling up, and you’re dripping down the bed.

“You get off on it, me being fucking obsessed, huh?” You nod weakly, and Satoru has your thighs spread and pressed up, his tip drooling precum against your aching hole. “Then let me be clear, you'll never see or date anyone again, got it?”

Satoru grins sadistically as you weakly nod, whispering a-  “Yes, Satoru.” He moans then, filling your tight hole in one stroke of his huge cock, stuffing you so full you scream out, pussy gripping him like a vise, drooling down his veiny cock to his balls, pooling under you both as his own eyes roll back.

“Feel her, made f’me, just me? Mine, mine, mine.” He’s whispering it like some insane mantra as he begins to move, fucking into your soppy cunt over and over, you’re pulsing and fluttering around him as he pounds your cunt, nasty words spilling from his pouty lips. “My little slut, hmm? Mine.”

“Ngh…” Is all you manage, when he slams your cervix with his drooly tip, leaning up to grip the headboard and pressing a thigh higher, railing your cunt so much it hurts, but you’re dying, drool pooling out of the side of your lips, eyes fluttering, trying to stay open.

“That’s it, oh look at you, fucked stupid already? I’m just starting with you, baby, gonna fuck your pretty mind up till it’s all me.” He leans down, rolling his hips and grinning with his eyes lit up, so dark they look black for just a moment. “That’s it, cum all over my cock, can’t help yourself huh?”

You do then, you’re cumming all over him, muscles contracting around his cock so hard she tries to push him out with the force, so much wetness dripping it’s streaming across his cock, earning his breathy moan. He’s fucking you through your orgasm, your thighs shaking, you are stupid, you can’t form one thought in your pathetic brain as your orgasm waves over your body.

“Aw, fucked dumb? Poor stupid baby. I’ll keep fucking all those thoughts out of your head, hmm? Till it’s just me.”

“Satoru… jus’ you… s’good I…” You can’t talk anymore, not when his cock’s strokes are hitting just right, not when his tip drags against your gspot before bruising your cervix. You’re clinging to him, nails pressing into his strong back, as pulls back, watching your tummy bulge.

“Fucking up your guts, fucking up your brain. S’all me, huh?” You can’t answer, you’re too fucked out, but his slap brings you too, he smacks both cheeks, gripping your thighs brutal, leaving bruises. “Focus, baby, focus.”

“S’all you…” You answer, you’re so obedient, you’re so good for him.

“You’re such a good girl, perfect pussy, perfect body. Perfect face. Haunting my every fucking thought, torturing me.” He shoves your thighs high, pressing them against your breasts, folding you in half and bottoming out, you scream at it, hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you’re stretched and filled so much. “You’re so good you deserve all my cum, all these babies in you.”

You can’t register concern, he’s pounding you while gripping your face so tightly, you feel so tiny as he works his long, muscular body, as he breaks your body and mind with his cock, slamming harder and harder. You hear the sounds of it, the smack smack smack of his skin, as his balls slap your asshole, covered in slick from your cunt that’s drooling down his length.

“That’s it, milk my cock, so fuckin good, you want it, me to fill you, make you drip me for days.” You just weakly cry out, sniffling, tears pouring down your cheeks. “So beautiful like this, crying f’me? Oh baby, you’re perfect like this.”

Satoru loves your tears, your trembling lips, as you grip him so good, he feels it, you’re going to cum again, eager pussy sucking him in loudly, as he fucks you so hard the headboard slams the wall, you’re barely hanging on, sobbing and mumbling. You’re so fucked out it’s cute, opening and closing your mouth, unable to speak.

“It’s all me in there, yeah? Gonna be all me, gonna fill you so good, baby just wait, f-fuck!” Satoru slows then, pumping your cunt full, hot gooey cum sticking to your walls and making you cum right with him as he fucks it further, deeper.

“Satoru!” You’re mumbling his name, gasping for breath as he fills you, all of you, so hot and deep, until he finally lowers your legs, laughing softly.

“Oh I’m gonna have so much fun with you, you’re never leaving me, are you? Aw, can’t talk baby?”

He’s got you flipped on your trembling knees next, burying his face in your pussy, cleaning all his cum out and groaning. “Too much, too much!”

“Taste us together, fuck. Made for me, just me.” He’s on top of you next, prone over you, fucking out his first load and prepping you for another, all while he’s choking your neck squeezing so hard you almost faint. He’s whispering in your ear, breath tickling, hands over your sensitive skin. “Love it, hands around this neck, beg me to cum in you, fill you.”

“P-please… please fill me- ah!” You’re fading as he chokes you harder, spitting and drooling in your mouth, cock wrecking you as he fills you again, his sweat dripping from his skin as he works you. He groans then, hand pressing on your tummy.

“So full of me, but you need more, need no question in your pretty head who you belong to.”

After another load you’re weak, and he’s still going. When you finally wake in the morning, after several loads pumped in your pussy, you’re a mess, wobbling weakly as you step out of your room, thinking of facing him. Would things be different now, was it all passion, in the moment? Was it just sex? Was it more…

You smell something sweet then, inhaling as you slip on one of his dress shirts, you’d gone from fucking in your room to the bathroom, all the way to his room. At some point he had you bent over the couch, at another he had you pressed against the shower wall. It’s like little fragments, your pussy is aching, your experience has never prepared you for his size or stamina.

But you feel deliciously fucked out.

You catch his eye then, he looks at you, exhaling at how beautiful you are, your eyes are a little puffy from crying, you have bruises and marks littering your neck, you’re wearing his expensive dress shirt and nothing else. He feels himself hard just looking at you like this, remembering all the cum he’d pumped you full, wondering if it was still dripping out?

“Good morning, sweets. Get some shut eye?” He teases, winking at you as he flips his spatula, finishing the stack of pancakes he’s made.

“You cook, Satoru?” You ask, throat hoarse from your moans, from slobbering all over his cock and having him choke you. You clear it nervously, earning his smirk.

“Cute.” He murmurs, pulling out a chair for you. “Of course I cook, I just enjoy you cooking for me, so sexy watching you, barefoot in the kitchen you know.” 

“That sounds so…”

“Sit down, you need that energy baby. Last night I know I took it easy…’

“What!?” You blink then, sitting as he plates your breakfast, wincing at how sore your entire body is.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, look at my girl.” The words ruin you, when he leans down, cupping your face and his thumb brushes along your jaw. “Covered in bruises.”

“I am?” You look down and see your thighs, your chest, in hickeys and bruises, red and purple all over. “Oh…”

“Don’t worry you’re not going anywhere today anyway. You should take a break from work, you know.” He chuckles and kisses you. “Fuck I’ve waited so long for you, for you to be mine.”

You are kissed by him then, you eagerly meet his lips, before he pulls back, taking a breath. You frown when you see your phone is over by his coffee. “Is that my phone?”

“Oh, mmhmm. Needed to block any guys, you know, also that period tracker said you’re ovulating today.” You blink again as you sip the orange juice he gives you, nearly choking on it, his blue eyes have gotten even brighter, his grin huge as he watches your expressions.

“Satoru…”

“I threw out your birth control, cancelled your prescription.”

“Satoru!”

“What baby?” He sits you up on the table, between your thighs, your body violently reacts when he grabs you under your chin, his other hand slipping down your breasts. “I know, I should have breakfast first, is that what you want?”

“I… you…”

“Gonna look so fucking sexy full of me.” He lifts your thighs, sliding up the shirt you wear as he sits right on the seat, sliding it up to get a full view of your abused, puffy cunt. “Oooh, fucked her up. Do you hurt, baby?”

“Y-yes… I- ah!” Satoru’s lapped at your pussy now, from your hole to your clit, chuckling as he pulled the lips apart. “T-Toru…”

“Look at her, she’s ready for more, she’s so greedy.” He’s buried his face against you again, and you’re cumming so quickly, he laughs at it. “So easy, too. Ah we’re gonna fill her up more, don’t worry, gotta knock you the fuck up.”

You’re going to protest then, this is insane, he’s crazy, but when you’re getting bent over the kitchen table and fucked again, you soon forget your protests, as Satoru grips your tits and pinches your sensitive nipples, pounding your hole, all you can do is cry out and arch your back. Satoru smiles against your neck as you fall apart, as he pictures breeding you.

He’s got you right where he wants.

And you both know you’re never leaving.

Ahahah this was INSANE, none of this is cool unless it's Gojo, stay safe out here lol. Hope you all enjoyed! (yes all my stories are Arctic Monkeys or Chase Atlantic lyrics loll)

Taglist: @silvarys @strychnynegirl @indiewritesxoxo @alygator77 @moonlitwitchdaisy @cuntphoric @aldebrana @levislug @haruhatake @ninikrumbs @xixflower @star2112 @nanasukii28 @sukuxna0 @naammiii @uhnosav @victoria1676 @thequeenofcurses @targaryenluvs @jinjen @yesdere @shokosmokes @aishi-toru  @labelt-san @chiyokoemilia @makingtimemine @seeing-stars-alt @bunheadusa @alt--er--love @1satoruu @thikcems @plimplimmeiododoi @watermelonslut

[specialmouse]

(the Al-Anqar grandchildren)

DONATE

Nabil Al-Anqar worked his entire life to provide for his family; his beloved wife Fatima; his four children, Mohamed, Ahed, Ghada, and Khaled; and his grandchildren, Lama, Amir, Fatima, Noor, Eman, and Nabil. He owned an aluminum workshop before the war. It took him many years to save up for an apartment for his family, but at the age of 61, he finally did it: a beautiful apartment on the top floor. It was a physical testament to his hard work, and his youngest son Khaled was to be married here.

A month later, his dreams were destroyed by IDF bombs.

(The apartment, before and after)

Nabil’s family was forced to evacuate several times. Instead of the new apartment, the Al-Anqars now are seeking refuge in a partially-developed UNRWA school that receives no aid. The windows, still not fully installed or broken entirely, have blankets stretched across the frames in an attempt to keep the cold out. Sewage spills out onto the streets. Bombs kill dozens in refugee tent camps not half a kilometer away.

(Pictures of current conditions)

Nabil has no way to support his family right now other than this GoFundMe campaign. The price of flour has risen to 150-200€ a bag. Nabil’s grandchildren, some as young as 1 year old, lack shoes and winter clothing to protect themselves from the chill.

As ceasefire talks intensify, so has the Israeli bombardment of Gaza. This week and a half we have before Trump takes office is CRUCIAL. Whether a ceasefire is reached before his inauguration or not, we need to be supporting both community efforts on the ground, as well as campaigns like this, where your money is going to support 14 people (Nabil and his wife, his four children, six grandchildren, and his two daughter-in-laws).

Please donate and share this campaign; it is halfway funded!!!!!

€10,468/€20,000 - JAN 20TH!!!!!!!!

This fundraiser is verified by Gaza Vetters, at #6 on the list, under Ghada’s name.

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[ganondoodle]

another WIP, but i can tell im running out of steam here, i still have to finish this one, the second phase and the beast one though .......

(in the second phase he reforms his right arm out of malice and uses it like the player uses links shiekah arm, it stretches like the hookshot to grab you from a distance etc. - beast is mostly typical beast attacks, then theres a cutscene, you think its over and zelda steps up to use her sealing power mimicking the scene from botws end, but he wakes back up and cuts off half her right hand, whichs disables her as a companion for the last and final fight- i want it to be actually extremely challenging; he will now mix up multiple attacks from all previous phases, switching between patterns of a beast to that of the skilled swordsman you fought him as right at the start of it, including dodging your perfect dodges back ..)

(WIP for "botw2" project)

perhaps we are getting somewhere with this ganondorf design after all ............. the patterns have been taking me forever and are far from done, i want to incorporate the colorful flower petal-ish design of the botw gerudo but still make him look different and more practical

[monstersholygrail]

In a Free Use City, your knowledge on the subject of your job isn’t always what’s most important. And in your case, it’s the least important. You were actually known as quite a ditz in the Free Use City Offices.

You worked in the tech department surrounded by a bunch of hot and nerdy guys who spoke in yours you couldn’t even begin to understand. You were just happy to be there and they were happy to ogle you and press against you whenever you asked for their help with any simple task.

They thought they had the upper hand on you, thinking they were so clever. But you had them all on a leash. An entire department at your disposal to give you pleasure whenever you wanted.

Your favorite man to bother was IT Robot. He got his work done fast and spent the rest of the day goofing off. The easy air around him made him approachable and the way all his shirts fit snugly against his bulging pecs made you drip with need.

You can’t help but spare him another glance before hesitantly returning your gaze to your own computer, the screen filled with the program you still haven’t figured out. Great, now you were confused and horny.

“Need me for something?” IT Robot’s voice suddenly purrs into your ears. His steel-like grip grabbing onto your plush hips and pulling you back into his hard chest.

His body molds to yours so perfectly it has you tingling all over. Arousal gushing and soaking through your panties. He turns you on so bad even when he barely did anything but it was like your body was out of control. As if it could be programmed just for him when he was the robot.

“Help… I hurt,” you say with a pout, your mind turning to complete mush whenever you’re around him.

IT Robot flashes you with that charming lopsided smile of his, heavily amused by the puddle you melt into whenever he talks to you.

“Where does it hurt, huh? It hurt here?”

He caresses your soft belly with an appreciation that borders on worship before one hand slips beneath your skirt, nuzzling his fingers between your soaked folds.

“Or here?” He asks while the other gives a little pat on your head.

A low whine escapes your lips as he rolls his fingers over your clit, your hips jerking into the touch. And that’s all it takes to have IT Robot plunging three of his fingers deep into your cunt, making you gasp and tremble in his arms.

“That’s what I thought… Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll fix the issue right away. It’s what I do after all.”

Your vision blurs as you dive into the pleasure head first. Choking out harsh moans as IT Robot’s fingers move inside you with precision like he has an entire map of your pretty pussy printed in his head. His fingers move in a blur as they pump themselves inside you, hitting all the right places that have you seeing stars. Each curl of his fingers sends your pussy fluttering and clenching down around him.

“Squeeze me tight, honey, ngh c’mon! Don’t think about a thing, just focus on being my pretty baby. My good girl.”

His words send the last thoughts in your head flying out the window, reducing you to nothing but his perfect little fuck toy. Your body relaxes without having to worry about a thing, allowing the ecstasy to overwhelm you.

IT Robot chuckles again as that fucked out expression fills your features. He flattens his palm so that it rubs hard against your clit with every snap of his fingers. With a few quick movements it has you falling over the edge and exploding all over his hand. Your vision flashes white as your orgasm rolls through you and you can’t find the strength to move any of your limbs after.

But that’s alright, IT Robot will take care of you, his fingers slipping out of your pulsing cunt with a pop, and giving your temple a soft kiss. He doesn’t bother cleaning up his hand dripping with your cum as he starts typing on your computer, solving the issue with the program you were using, and successfully helping you with both your aches.

“There, there. I’ve got you, pretty. Just keep feelin’ good. All because of me,” he whispers in your ear. Planning to spend the rest of the day doing all your work for you.

[hoshifighting]

like what if yn is tired just arrived home from work and cheol is on the couch, legs stretched watching tv. then yn changes to little shorts n sit between his legs, yn's back on his chest. little cuddles and then his hand slowly reaches her 😼 little no's or stops from yn but ofc she actually dont want him to stop. THAN HE LOCKS HER LEGS WITH HIS LEGS AND OPEN THEM MORE AND KEEP GOING

bf!cheol taking care of you after work as you sit between his legs

WARNINGS: smut, fingering, dirty talk, body fluids (cum), a bulge pressed against reader's ass 😇

it’s been a day. work was hell, people were annoying, and honestly, the second you got home, you were ready to faceplant on your bed and not move for the next 12 business days. except you walk into the living room, and there he is—choi seungcheol. stretched out on the couch like he’s got no worries in the world, one arm lazily thrown over the backrest, legs spread. he’s flipping through channels with that casual “i’m hot and i know it” energy that makes you roll your eyes even as your chest does that stupid fluttery thing.

“hey, baby,” he calls, barely looking up, but the smile tugging at his lips is soft. inviting.

“hey,” you mumble back, kicking off your shoes and tossing your bag somewhere in the vicinity of the door because you’re too tired to care. you trudge off to change, throwing on one of those little pairs of shorts you know he likes (and, let’s be real, you also like how they make your ass look).

when you wander back into the living room, he’s still there, scrolling through Netflix now, like he’s trying to find something he hasn’t already seen ten times. you flop down between his legs, leaning back against his chest with a tired sigh, and he immediately wraps his arms around you.

“rough day?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“you have no idea,” you mumble, closing your eyes as his warmth surrounds you.

he hums, his chin resting on your shoulder, and you feel his hands slowly start to wander. it’s innocent at first, his fingers tracing little patterns on your thighs, but then one of his hands starts sliding up.

“cheol,” you say softly, not even looking up.

“hmm?” he replies, his voice all sweet and casual, like he’s not already halfway to breaking the unspoken no-touchy rule you’ve set for nights like this.

“don’t,” you mumble, but there’s no heat behind it, and you both know it.

his hand pauses for like, half a second before continuing its journey. his fingers sneak under the hem of your shorts, brushing against the bare skin beneath. you squirm a little, your legs pressing together instinctively, but all that does is trap his hand where it is.

“you’re not stopping me,” he teases, his voice low in your ear, and you feel his smirk more than you see it.

“cheol, seriously—”

and then he moves. his legs come up, wrapping around yours and locking them in place, spreading you open in a way that makes you gasp.

“cheol!”

“what?” he says, feigning innocence as his fingers dip between your legs, finding exactly what he’s looking for. “you’re not stopping me,” he repeats, his tone teasing but firm, like he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

your breath hitches as his fingers start to move, tracing over the thin fabric of your shorts like he’s testing how far he can push you. you let out a shaky little “stop,” but it’s half-hearted at best, and you’re pretty sure he knows it.

“stop?” he echoes, his voice dripping sweetness. “you don’t sound like you want me to stop.”

“i do,” you tease weakly, but the way your hips tilt up to meet his hand completely betrays you.

“sure you do,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts now, brushing against your bare skin. “you’re so convincing, baby.”

you let out a soft whimper as he finds your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make your head fall back against his shoulder.

“cheol—”

“shh,” he soothes, his lips brushing against your ear. “just let me take care of you, okay? you’ve had a long day. you deserve this.”

your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan low in your ear, the sound shooting straight to your core. your lips hover near his ear, and you gasp when his fingers slide inside you, the wet, obscene noises filling the space between your breaths.

schlk—schlk—schlk

every slide is unrelenting, curling and hitting that spot, making tears flood your eyes. his cock is rock hard, pressing right against your ass, and you can feel him twitch through the fabric of his sweats.

“fuck, baby, squeezing my fingers like this. you missed me, hm?”

you let out a choked moan, your hips tilting to meet his thrusts, but he keeps you pinned, his legs still locking yours open.

“you’re dripping all over my hand...listen,”

your back arches further, your face finding his neck as your cheeks flush with embarassment, his free hand snakes up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

“you wanna cum? hm? answer me,” he taunts, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “i can feel it, the way you’re clenching. but i don’t know if you deserve it yet.”

“cheol—!”

“hmm?” he hums, adding another finger, making your walls flutter around him. “use your words, baby. beg for it. tell me how bad you need me to make you come.”

you shake your head, too stubborn to give him the satisfaction, but then he shifts his hand, his thumb pressing against your clit just right, and you unravel.

“please!” you gasp, your voice cracking as your nails dig into his scalp.

“that’s my girl,” he growls, his hips rocking against you, his cock throbbing against your ass like he’s holding back just as much as you are.

his fingers work you faster, the wet noises getting louder, more vulgar, and your moans turn into broken cries. “such a good girl,” he coos, though his tone is still dripping with teasing. “but fuck, you’re so easy to ruin, aren’t you? just a little fingering, and you’re falling apart on me.”

his words push you closer, every filthy syllable lighting you up, until your body tenses and you cum around his fingers, the schelching present until you melt on his chest.

“that’s it, my baby...make a mess for me. let me feel you.”

and you do, your nails raking down his forearm as he praises you for working so hard.

[kissforyouu]

too much ☆

pairing : sugar daddy!jungkook x fem!reader

genre : smut , fluff

warnings : sugar daddy x sugar baby relationship , implied age gap (reader 20s, jk 30s) , size kink, BIGGGG DDDD (9 inches) , choking , groping , d riding , daddy kink , hickeys , slapping , creampie , panty sniffing , use of petnames (angel, doll, baby, sweetheart) , he talks u thru it , squirting , anal penetration , slight dacryphilia , he gets off to her orgasming , the whole point is he’s too big for her

Today was the day.

You’re so determined to do it. You can do it. Yes, you can.

You were fully prepared, laying on your sugar daddy's expensive ass master bed, wrapped in white lace like a little present for him to unwrap. You looked as if you were a sweet angel fallen into his room filled with all things black and the only thing light being the white walls. And the little parts of you you'd leave hanging around. like makeup, books, clothes, etc. etc.

Too excited, that's what you were. but also nervous, in a way, but you had one goal for tonight. And that was to fit your sugar daddy's cock inside and ride him.

There was a very evident size difference between the two of you. Him being 6ft tall already gave it away, but to add to the list you stood at 5'2ft. He was big in every possible area you could think of, even his cock was massive. fuck. His palm could easily cover your asscheek perfectly without any flesh slipping out. He was a tall successful man with broad shoulders and a muscular body. Thick thighs, big arms—everything you liked in a man.

In addition to that, he was rich. So so rich that he offered you to be his sugar baby. You both met at the mall. So excitedly you went through all the cute dresses you could wear, but definitely not afford. You were still in college. No further explanation needed.

“Ah! this, er, maybe that? don't know!” You were on facetime with your friend, reviewing all the cute dresses you would buy if you had the money. Delusional!

“Nah, nah, nah, the purple one with butterflies would look so good on you!” Your friend squeals, making you squeal back. You might be making too much noise in ths store, but you didn't care.

“You know what would look good with this dress? a cute cardigan and I’d pair this up with some gold hoops."

“Hmm, sounds really pretty”, your friend answered.

“Wish i had the money though...” there was a pout formed on your lips when you look back at the prize tag.

Somehow, your friend ended up having to leave the call due to some work. You end the call, ready to exit the store with absolutely no bags whatsoever. But someone, a man, stops you.

And then he asks you the most out of the blue question ever.

“Want me to buy you that dress?”

That was how it all started. He offered you to become his sugar baby after a full day spent at the mall of him buying you random things. At first, you said no. But he gave you time to decide and also kept sending you gifts over and over. At the end, you agreed. To be fair, you expected him to be the most obscene, rude, horrid man ever. But he's actually...pretty nice. sweet. caring.

Your relationship was 50/50. All you had to do was to take care of that man emotionally, shower him with love which you'll gladly do and also have bomb ass sex with him and he'll pay off all your bills and buy you a shit ton of things in return. The sex wasn't even a topic brought up at first, he didn't need that kind of favour. Just needed a pretty baby to spoil who'll love him in return. The sex just happened on a random friday night. Ever since, you've been getting the best dick you've ever had in your entire life. But there was one problem.

He was too big.

And you were too small.

Sure, the sex was so good and he always made sure to make you cum at least twice each time. It was so good that you couldn't even count the stars rotating around your head each time you orgasmed. But one thing that always managed to bother you...was he satisfied? Because of the obvious size difference, it was hard to fit him inside. Most of the time you’d end up stopping him because it hurt. He won't even be fully in when that happens. Although he always reassured you that he's far more than satisfied with you, you still wouldn't buy it.

But today, you’re going to do it. Gonna make all of him fit inside and give him the orgasm he deserves.

You laid on your back with your eyes fixed on the pattern of the ceiling, feet kicking in the air as you mindlessly waited for him to return home.

But a flirtatious whistle catches you off guard. you immediately rise back up from the bed, eyes darting to the man leaning against the door frame looking at you with a smug look.

“Jungkook!” you squealed.

“Was wondering where you were.” He makes his way towards you.

“I was here.” you mumble.

“I can see...” he snorts.

He lifts you up to sit on the bed by his hands on your waist, then touching your bare stomach, right above the little lace skirt you were wearing.

“For me?” there's a little smug look on his face.

“Who else would it be for?” there’s a sly smirk on your face, batting your lashes as you spoke.

"hah, you little minx" he slaps your cheek with the back of his hand, soon cupping your chin and raising your head up.

"when did you buy this?" his thumb teasingly caresses your lower lip.

"mmm, last week. bought it when i went shopping with mina..."

jungkook snickers, thumb now poking in between your lips. instinctively, you open your mouth for him to easily slide his thumb in between. you let out a muffled giggle, swirling your tongue around his thumb.

you both had wide grins on eachother's faces, fully aware of where this was heading.

you choke on his entire thumb the moment he pushes it all in, his thumb and a part of his hand, stuffing your mouth full. with a little bit of drool slipping out of your mouth, you close your eyes with a hum, but jungkook pulls his hand out.

hurriedly, with a satisfied grin, jungkook begins to unbuckle his belt. but before he could move any further, you were quick enough to stop him, bringing confusion to his face.

"huh?"

"kook, the bed. get on the bed, please." you request.

jungkook raises his eyebrow as your unusual request, but still obeying. he removes his shoes first, then gets on the bed, legs spread and leaning against the headboard as he waits for your next move. you couldn't help but let out a small giggle, excitedly making your way to sit in between his legs.

jungkook, in the other hand, admist his confusion, still couldn't hold back the little smile that threatened to come out. let's just say...this relationship was more than just being a sugar daddy and sugar baby. for him, at least. he'd like to think so.

you push some of your hair back, brushing it along the way and letting it fall down your shoulders as you made yourself comfortable between his legs. pretty, jungkook thinks.

"what're you going to do?" he asks, voice as gentle as ever.

you let out a long hum, fingers struggling to open the zipper of his trousers. he was rock hard, so it was hard to get the zip down. ugh.

jungkook chuckles at your struggles, "want me to take it off for you?"

you shake your head in denial. no. you were gonna do everything tonight with no help from him. with the help of the strong mentality you've set on getting goal done, you manage to successfully pull the zipper off.

you sigh, relieved, but jungkook just laughs at you, almost mockingly.

"what?" you ask.

"nothing, baby, 'just love watching you trying to please me. you're gonna take my cock tonight? hm?" the corner of his lip curves up.

"hmmmm, yes" you're moaning.

jungkook snorts, as if he's not believing you. but he takes off his trousers and boxers, leaving his lower body bare. you're gulping while staring at his erect cock, finally free from the restraints of his white calvein klein boxers. he's already leaking precum.

you lean forward, taking his fat cock in your hands, giving it a few pumps. smearing the precum all over the tip, you use it as lube, pumping his cock again. it barely fits in your hands. you have to use both your hands to hold it.

your ass was up, back slightly arched as you took his cock in your mouth. a muffled moan immediately escapes you, as you slowly slowly take him in deeper in your mouth inch by inch. fuck, was it hard. suddenly getting the urge to cough, you quickly pull him off of your mouth and turn your head around to cough.

"shit, you okay, doll?"

nodding your head in embarrassment, you take hold of his cock again to leave kitten licks all over it. you begin by licking the tip of his cock, swiping your tongue over the small alleyway of his cockhead several times. jungkook hisses at the feeling, eyes droopy. happily, you're licking all over his shaft as if it's your favourite ice cream.

you lick a long stripe up his shaft again, then circling your tongue on the dent in his cockhead. pulling away to spit on his cock, you rub your saliva all over the base with both your hands, then taking his cock in your mouth again.

you sink it down your throat further, slobbering all over his cock, saliva gushing out of your mouth and covering his cock full. his hand instinctively lands on the back of your head, caressing your hair and giving your scalp a subtle massage.

you were so beautiful, he thought.

slowly, you move your head up and down his length, sucking his cock in your mouth. his cock repeatedly hits the back of your throat, causing him to let out a few grunts from here and there. he was surprisingly very vocal during sex. and that just got you even wetter.

"mhm, that's right. taking my cock well, huh? taught you good?" his free hand taps your cheek, feeling his cock against your cheek. your cheeks were hollow, your face felt hot. it was obviously heating up, and so was your pussy. jungkook's hand leaves the back of your head to touch your other cheek, both hands holding up your face now as you took him in your mouth. he grunts, releasing another breath.

you slurp up your saliva on his cock only to spit it back, swiping your tongue on his base. you bob your head on his cock, enjoying all of his moans to the fullest. his thumbs swipe over your cheeks repeatedly, wiping away the small tears that are falling down.

"bet you're soaking right now, hm? fhuck—i can imagine how pretty your panties look right now. drenched and sticking to your pussy? isn't that right, angel?"

you hurry to nod your head, still sucking him in your mouth. fuck, you were so cockdrunk. jungkook knew exactly how to get you riled up. the small touches and caresses, holding your face and hair, he knew you liked that. of course he did. he knew your body like the back of his hand.

"yeah?" he acknowledges your nodding, petting your head. you try to best to flash him a smile, moaning in between. "that's right." his palm lays flat on top of your head again as he pushes your head back down on his cock, his cockhead hitting the back of your throat again.

you're pretty sure it's gonna bruise there.

up! down! up! down! you go, warming his cock up by the insides of your mouth. your right hand is wrapped around the rest of his cock that you can't fit while the other squeezed his balls.

the harder jungkook pushed the more you gagged on his cock. it felt suffocating, but you knew jungkook would never do anything to hurt you. you're whining, clawing his thighs. your eyes rolled to the back of your head followed by a series of cusses coming from jungkook's mouth.

"ohhh, oh, hah, fuck, fuck." his head is thrown back against the headboard of the bed. he lets out a whiny little moan, spilling his load into your mouth. jungkook wipes away your tears once you slip his cock out of your mouth with a pop, reassuring you on how well you did.

"you did so well, angel. took my cock so good." he pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail to raise your head back up. you looked so fucked out just from his dick in your mouth. it was definitely a huge ego boost for him. as much as he loved seeing you pretty and dolled up for him, this look on you has got to be one of his favourites. naked, sweaty and fucked out from his dick. you were so pretty.

"hmm...", he groans, hand sliding up from your left breast to the back of your neck, pulling you on top of him so that you'd be sitting on his lap. "liked having a mouth full of cock?" he grins mockingly, left arm folded on his back as he rests back on it. you nod your head, eyes still closed. the man chuckles, wiping away the drool on your face and chest. he makes sure to wipe his hand on your asscheek also, then slapping it afterwards.

"good now?" he checks up on you.

"yes. all good." you flash him a toothy smile with a thumbs up. jungkook smiles, tongue poking his cheek. "c'mere." he pulls you closer by your waist and securely wraps his right arm around you. your cheek was resting against his peck while he caressed your hair, giving your scalp a few massages here and there.

jungkook trails kisses from the back of your ear down to your neck, darting his tongue out to lick some areas known to make you moan. "let me take care of you, doll."

your sugar daddy gently lays down your body on the bed, hovering over you quickly. he takes a moment to stare down at you, a stupid little smile brightening up his face. you raise your eyebrow, quick to pick up on that. "what? why're you smiling like that?" you ask.

"why not?" jungkook snickers, he pinches the tip of your cheek, thumb gently caressing it afterwards. you feel your cheeks heat up. leaning into his touch, you smile a little.

jungkook lifts you hips up, angling his cock with your entrance and you almost— almost forget your plan. immediately, you halt and place your hand on his chest with a shake of your head.

"why? something wrong?"

you nod your head, gently pushing the man back.

"what're you doing?" you shush him up with your index finger pressed against his lips and shaking your head. jungkook raises his eyebrow.

"i wanna ride you."

jungkook just stares at you as if you've just told him the craziest thing ever, eyes wide as well. stop. this is making you feel embarrassed. what if he just laughs at you?

"what, you're gonna ride me now?" jungkook couldn't help but laugh a little, but immediately shutting himself up when he sees the frown on your face. "okay, sorry, sorry."

"yeah, i am." your voice came out almost inaudible. you felt so small in his large presence. with his big eyes boring into yours, you feel put on the spot. like. like everyone's looking at you holding a mic to your mouth expecting you to talk.

the corner of his lip slightly twitches up, then he breaks into a smile. big hands land on your hips and effortlessly drags you closer to him, he then lifts your chin up, thumb swiping over your lower lip. "sure you won't hurt yourself?"

"yes, daddy. not gonna hurt." jungkook chuckles at the nickname, finding it amusing. you both never really used the name daddy, just once or twice. although, you can't deny how the nickname gets you feeling sort of...thrilled? aroused? jungkook could say the same.

"daddy, huh?" he clicks his tongue.

you nod your head with a small hum, raising your body up to sit on your knees. "lie down, please."

jungkook listens to your request with a teasing smirk on his face. hah, you wanted to fuck that smirk off of him soooooo bad. he lies down on the bed with two pillows supporting his back and makes himself comfortable. he raises his eyebrow watching your puzzled expression, trying really hard to read your face. his legs are spread, fat cock rock hard and leaking that precum you love so much. you gulp down the drool that was already pooled up in your mouth, eyes darting between jungkook's eyes and his cock.

"what're you waiting for? come fuck me, girl."

and you do.

gliding yourself over his muscular thighs, you settle yourself on top of him, your thighs on each side of his waist. you avert your gaze down to his massive cock, twitching with pre cum leaking from the tip, impatiently waiting for you. you take a long deep breath before raising your body over his thighs, then angling your pelvis over his cock. wrapping your hand around his base, you teasingly rub the tip on your folds. jungkook tugs on his lower lip as your pussy twitches against his tip, both your juices slightly mixed with eachother. you raise your hips up again and this time, a string of wetness appears connecting your hole and his reddened tip.

"fucking nasty. you're soaking." jungkook couldn't help but reach out to touch your pussy one more time. you groan once his thumb harshly rubs on your clit while his fingers sunk into your pussy for a moment. he pulls them out before you could even enjoy the feeling, ending it with a slap on your clit. "go on. get on this dick."

jungkook was such a slut.

the moment you finally sink yourself in, or try to, both of you let out a soft gasp, taking in how genuinely tight it felt.

"god, kook...mh", your chest heaved up and down as you balanced yourself, still not fully sunk in his dick yet. you move your hand down there to spread your pussy lips a little further apart, then pushing yourself down a little further.

jungkook stayed silent watching you struggle for a few seconds before deciding to step in. "you okay? want help?" his fingers caressed from your waist to hips, trying to soothe you. you whine, frustrated, ugh—

"i can't. can't do this—mh, too big!"

you give up.

jungkook clicks his tongue, clearly disappointed. he shakes his head, disapproving your decision. "come on, baby. 'know you can do this. you're a hardworking girl. it's okay."

"no, no, no, ahh, can't." you shake your head in denial.

"tsk. no. you're gonna do this. slap my thigh if it's too much, m?" a tear escapes your eye as you finally agree to proceeding to pursue your initial goal. jungkook decides to lend a helping hand by rubbing your clit in various patterns slowly to get you wetter and make it easier for you. "better not cum."

"hmm...", you moan out.

with your throbbing clit being rolled in between the tip of the big man's fingers, you sink your hips down his much bigger dick, eyes widening at the newfound sensation.

"SHIT— oh, mm!" his tip hit your g spot, causing your entire body to tremble a little. the action makes jungkook laugh cockily, his lips forming into a mocking pout.

"gonna cum already? my dick only had to get in? you're that needy?" he slaps your cheeks lightly. you give him nothing but a small enticing glare. jungkook groans and taps your hips as a signal for you to get moving.

your knees buried deep into the bed sheets, you steady yourself before guiding your hips up and down slowly. honestly, it hurt. your walls were so mushy and tight, firmly gripping the base of his cock.

"ah, loosen up, angel. if not, you'll make me cum just from that tightness—shiii."

you try to loosen up your pussy hole, relaxing your entire body but ugh, you just can't do it. with a whine, you continue thrusting yourself downwards on his cock. jungkook adjust himself to you fully— your pussy felt soooo full. so fucking stuffed. his tip reached your womb. you didn't even know having him this deep could be possible. it hurt so bad, yet it felt so good. jungkook's hand reaches behind your back to grab the flesh of your ass and mold it into his liking, slapping and pulling on the flesh.

by now you've learnt how to sit on his dick fully inside. and now, you're doing to fuck it.

"h-haaa—" a breathy moan surpasses through as you begin riding his dick, your walls tightly squeezing in his fat base. your moves were slow and careful, careful trying not to hurt yourself too much. it already hurt so bad, no—burnt. your pussy felt as if it was burning, overwhelmed by the size of his dick. you squeeze your eyes shut, suddenly remembering why you've never tried fully taking him in. cause your cunt was too small! and fuck! does it hurt!

still, you try, brushing away the second thoughts. the skin slapping noises grew louder each thrust as you let his cock hit deeper and deeper areas. jungkook was in pure ecstasy. the most attractive woman he's ever seen (he would never never reveal that to you) is riding his dick. he loved every second of it.

his hands cup your tits through the sheer fabric of your skimpy lingerie, thumbing your nipples hard. he could feel your nipples grow harder, he just could. which drove him crazy. jungkook's thumbs swipe on your nipples, swirling the bud around too. the bridge of his nose brush against your collarbone as he leans his face closer to your neck, whispering sweet nothings.

"i fucking love watching you struggle like this." you grip onto his wrist tightly, twisting it around with your nails digging deep into his skin and probably creating scars. thankfully for your wet slick, it progressively got easier for you to slide up and down.

"take this off. mm, now." his fingers toyed with the straps of your skimpy ass top, tugging on the fragile material and pulling on it. you groan, hurriedly taking off the annoying ass top and throwing it away to let it land on wherever.

you breasts were fully bare for him, big and juicy, nipples hard as fuck. you were such an eye candy. he loved—liked everything about you. so fucking hot. he could go insane.

your jaw falls open, shoulder pushed back and chest popped out as you rode his dick. such a pornographc sight. your tits bounced along with each of your jumps. puffy clit rubbing against his pelvis with each thrust of your hips, his dark pubic brushing against your clit, creating some sort of friction as well. fuuuck.

jungkook caresses your hips, fingertips also dancing across your asscheeks, bringing you a relaxing feeling amidst the heavy workout you're putting yourself through. you slam yourself onto his dick, pussy quite literally splitting into two. you've never fucked someone this hard. this is so crazy, you're actually taking him— you gasp, letting yourself feel out his dick fully.

fuckfuckfuck you could feel his dick tightly smuggled inside your chubby cunt, feeling out the tight clasp of your walls as you literally squeezed him shut. shit, you're scared he wouldn't be able to pull out even. you're squeezing him that tightly. you hold onto his broad shoulders, long manicured nails digging into the skin, probably—most probably leaving marks. you inhale in the musky scent he always has once he gets back from work. you loooveeee it.

"please, i—literally—like, fawwkkkk jungkook!" jungkook hisses, hands messily searching for the discarded dirty panties on the side of the bed. he finally finds them and brings them upto his nose to take a long sniff out of it. a looongg nasty sniff. "you're so dirty, daddy."

his eyes drift from the dirty material to yours in a second. he quickly dropped it off and snakes his arms from under your thighs to hoist you up the bed. you squeel in surprise, arms immediately wrapping around his neck for stability. jungkook looks at you from below, big doe eyes glistening at you as you stared back. you giggle a little once you feel his hand slap your asscheek and grab it again.

jungkook leans forward to envelope your lips in a sweet kiss. you sigh in content, kissing him back passionately as your tongues swirled on eachother. you both were eating out eachothers face so good. moving your heads rhythmically in sync while your nails scratched his back real good. you exchanged saliva, head tilting to various sides as you shared a sloppy messy kiss. so fucking hot.

"mmh, put it in...", you try to reach behind your back and grab his dick but jungkook beats you to it, swatting your hand away. he grips his cock, squeezing the red tip with a hiss. "inside me, daddy." his mind feels fuzzy as he slides his dick inside you again. this time, it enters pretty easy, much easier than before. well, since you're well lubricated and all. you both moan in sync, shoulders dramatically falling down as he fills you up again. you hug his muscular body, gliding up and down his dick once again. second time feels much better than last. shiiiit.

"you're so big. i—" you sigh deeply, whole cunt swallowing his fat dick. "hm, it slips in so easily now." you grunt into his neck, trying to adjust yourself. "yeah, cause you're slippery as shit."

"c'mon, sweetheart." he pats your back as you start over, again. you begin riding his dick once more, this time gripping onto the head of the bed and his head. "you know you're doing so good, yeah? never been more proud of you." you could feel the bone of his nose poke your neck as he inhales your sweaty scent in. jungkook presses tiny kisses all over your neck, down to your collarbone. little kisses all over your collarbone. little hickeys forming all over your collarbone ૮꒰ ⊃ ⸝⸝ ⊂ ꒱ྀིა

yeah you know what, maybe you overestimated yourself. fuck does this hurt. did your pussy get smaller or what. you were squeezing him so tight. so fucking tight.

"koo— haaarrd... 'm struggling." you grunt into his neck.

"lemme take over, then."

"wha—no. i'm fucking you." you refuse his offer quite literally right away.

"you're barely holding on. can't even keep my dick inside without moving around. hm?" he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, squeezing your cheeks together mockingly. he treated you as if you were a feeble little being who couldn't even complete the simplest task.

nothing simple about this dick.

he made sure his dick was perfectly tucked inside, ready to absolutely break you apart on it.

your pussy suddenly starts pulsating, clenching around his dick repeatedly. jungkook lets out a gruff moan, palm slapping against your waist.

"stop fucking clenching. you gonna cum, yeah? is that what this is?"

"mmmhm, i don't want to cum." you break into a whine into his shoulder. "'s okay, just let it out on me, yeah?" he sneaks his arm in between you guys and sticks his thumb out on your very swollen clit. you flinch once he starts rubbing your clit, and in no time, you cream his dick.

"fuck, no, i—i don't want to cum yet." you punch his arm and bite his shoulder, agitated that he just had to make you cum. "i wanted to make you cum first. fuck you." "too bad. i barely even moved."

"are you making fun of me?"

"maybe."

you tug on his hair and bite his arm as revenge.

"i haven't cum yet. did you forget?" he pulls on your hair.

"you know that i wanted to ride you." you huff,

"and you did."

"barely." you roll your eyes, snuggling closer into him, face nuzzled into his neck.

"yeah, my bad my dick's too big."

"you're so over the head."

"okay, but we both know i'm right."

"my vagina is burning."

jungkook pinches the top of your ass and flips you over so that you'd be laying on your back. the sudden movement catches you off guard as you yelp in surprise.

"ow! that hurt."

jungkook doesn't respond to you, but slowly, carefully, pulls his dick out of you. he's still rock hard. you're not surprised.

"you said you wanted to make me feel good, yeah?" he caresses the side of your face, moving away each and every hair sticking to your face. gentle kisses all over your face, cheek, nose, eyes—he suddenly stops, the eye contact between you two breaking the moment he looks away. your breath hitch, there's a tingling feeling all over your body, it felt like the tip of a feather gracing over your face.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Mhm.”

Jungkook squeezes the fat of your belly with a soft kiss on top and suddenly—he was so sly with it too—enters his dick inside your cunt again. “AH!”, you yelp out due to the sudden waves of pain and pleasure sent right from your swollen fucking pussy.

“Come on, girl, take it. I know you can—haah.”

He plunges his dick deep in you with a hard thrust and immediately going at it. He didn’t stop. No he did not. Jungkook rutted into your wet cunt like an animal in heat, desperate to hear the high pitch moans coming out of your swollen lips.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, back arched and gasps left your lips repeatedly. It hurt so bad. Your pussy was fucking burning. It hurt so bad that it felt so good. He’s never done this before. He’s never probably been inside you fully. You swore to the heavens above that your cunt was already torn apart. There was no way.

“Jungkook—mmhphhhhhhhhhttttt!!! It hurts so much! Stop, ah, fuck!”

You raise your legs up, slinking them around his toned sweaty fucking torso. Jungkook grabbed a handful of your meaty thighs, using the fat for support to cling onto you more.

“Please! Stopstopstopstop it hurts so much!”

You didn’t actually want him to stop. You would’ve used to the safe word if so, you and him both knew that very well.

Jungkook grunts in annoyance with a slap on your ass to shut you up.

“Shut up and take my fucking dick. You wanted this. Finish what you’ve started. Take my fucking dick like you said you would!”

He was so big.

“You’re a big girl made for taking big fucking cocks like mine, yeah?”

Without a warning, his palms slap against both your asscheeks before hoisting your entire body up into his arms. Jungkook had you on top of his thighs, carrying your entire weight on his arms as he thrusted from below. His thrusts were so harsh and aggressive with the intention of only wrecking your pussy apart. You were bounced on his cock like a ragdoll. He used you for his pleasure, letting his cock mold the insides of your pussy to the perfect shape that'll fit him always.

"I'm not letting this pussy go now. Hah", he rocks your body upwards again, letting you fall onto his. you cling onto his body for dear life, arms wrapped around his neck, breasts bouncing in front of his face. you could feel his balls slap against your ass repeatedly. they were wet, slimey and sticky. he spread the stickyness on his balls everywhere, constantly reminding you of the fact that he was deep inside you now. like, finally.

"da-ddy! i can't believe you're fucking me like t-this."

you close your eyes tight, your nails gripping onto jungkook's scalp as you let out a scream.

"please, oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD! i'm g'na- HAAH!"

jungkook recognizes the familiar high pitched sound you make, hand sneakily rubbing your puffy clit again. and as a cherry on top, he spreads your ass cheeks apart and sneaks his thumb in between to penetrate your neglected tight little hole. he rubs your hole and inserts the tip of his finger in, repeating the process after. You were so tight down there, considering the fact that you were still an ass virgin. He always said he was gonna take your ass sometime, but you always said no. This was your first time. Fuck.

The finger in your ass caught you off guard as you let out a shriek, your asshole immediately tightening at the sensation.

“Jung…hah. My ass—hhnmpht!”

He shushes you up with a kiss and got into work, rubbing your swollen little clit with his right hand and finger your tight asshole with his left hand, all while his cock absolutely ruined you from below.

“Stop! Too much! Too much! Too much!”

You slobber all over his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably as your entire body shiver and crumble against him. You didn’t have to tell Jungkook once, he knew you were just about to cum.

“Cum, baby. Let go. You’ve done amazing.” He fastens his pace on your clit, giving you just enough simulation.

“Ah! I’m g’na pee! FuckfuckfuckfuckSTOP!!”

You let out one more loud cry before aggressively trembly. Your pussy is so used and swollen and your ass hurts so much. Fuck. It didn’t take that long till your pussy starts squirting angrily. Your eyes widen, back arching as you let your pussy take full control of your body.

Jungkook pulls out of you for a brief moment to let you squirt wherever. His hand never left your clit though, continuing to rub at an increased speed. Your pussy convulses aggressively, squirting on everything and everywhere. The sheets behind you were fully drenched with your squirt and so was his dick, that was right under you.

“I’m sorry I’m making a mess all over your bed,” you cry into his shoulder, completely overwhelmed with everything that’s happening.

You’re still squirting. You don’t know if you’re actually squirting or just straight up pissing yourself on him. This was so embarrassing. Your face was so red. This is so humiliating fuckfuckfuck.

“I’m so”—you choke,“—embarrassed. Ahh, I’ve ruined everything.” You cry out, covering your face with your hands. Jungkook understood that this was an intense moment for you. You’ve squirted before, but never this hard. He soothes you by bringing you into his embrace, tracing patterns on your back to help you calm down.

You choke on your tears again. You were crying so much. You’ve never cried this much during sex before. As concerned he was for you, he was starting to admit he liked that sight. He liked it when you were crying out for him.

You let out the last bit of squirt on his cock, drenching him fully. Jungkook’s cock twitches, it’s angry head starting to let out spurts of cum.

Fuck, he couldn’t believe it. He was cumming. He was cumming so hard from just watching you orgasm. He was getting off to your orgasm.

“Fuck. Shit. Oh my god”, Jungkook groans. He throws his head backwards, letting his cum spurt out as you squeezed his balls. There was a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead as his face changed into various expressions as he emptied his balls into your mouth.

You made sure to put your mouth on it and let his cum fall right onto your tongue, just how he liked it. And you also made sure to swallow it all, just how he liked it.

You were still getting off of your high as well, body still crumbled against his.

“It’s okay, babygirl”, Jungkook coos into your ear and soothingly rubs your pussy slowly with your palm till you calm down.

“It stings”, you whine.

“Hmm, I know, baby. Take a deep breath.”

You obey him, taking a deep breath as he wiped off your tears. You sniffle. Your pussy was still throbbing and hole gaping. Fuck. You’re gonna stay stretched like this for a while. He ripped you apart.

“My gorgeous girl. You did so well.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “I can’t believe I fucking came to you squirting”, he chuckles.

“I wanted you to cum in my pussy.” You whine, spreading your pussy lips apart once again.

“I know. But this is more than enough. You know I get off to your orgasms.” He swats your hand away.

“Let her rest.” Jungkook leans down to press a kiss to your swollen worn out pussy.

You cry out, scooting closer to him.

Jungkook then picked you up, took you to the bathroom, made you pee, and brought you back to bed after changing the sheets.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

What?

[okwonyo]

CAN YOU SEE ME？ IM WAITING FOR THE RIGHT TIME ..

──── 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇.

𝐁𝐀𝐆𝐒 ㅤㅤ𓈒 bsf!enhypen x fem!rea 7OO non-idol au fluff potential future relationship yearning ૮(^﹏^ ! skinship jealousy 【 MUSÉE 】

じや wrote this in a rush ! enjoy 🎀

rbs ✶ comments please + daily

𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 ｡ ｡ watches you from a distance. with his eyes wide as a deer caught in the headlights, he doesn’t say anything or does anything about it— he just watches. he can’t help but observe your movements, the way you laugh or how you tuck your hair behind your ear while you talk to the other man. he studies you, sadness in his eyes, trying to find out if you are interested in someone other than him or not. “what?” you ask him when you see the grimace on his face. instead of answering, he questions you too, “do you like him?” relief washes over him in a wave when you shake your head, “i thought we were just talking but he wanted more,” then you add, “i’d rather spend time with you”.

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

𝐉𝐀𝐘 ｡ ｡ is always near you. in any circumstances, in any sort of place. if you are near, he is too— almost as if he was your bodyguard or, you as you prefer to say, guardian angel. any person that approaches you, approaches him too and needs to get approved by him to even talk to you. therefore, there is no need to explain that when a guy tries to talk to you, they get hit by a presence impossible to ignore right behind you. the menacing glares can make anyone pale and stumble over their words in front of you. and the funniest part, is that you are well aware of that but decide to act clueless— always shooting a fake confused look at him before smiling sweetly when yet another man runs away from you.

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 ｡ ｡ as your known best friend, many people come to him when they wonder if you are single and try to find a way to ask you out. unfortunately for them, he is not only your best friend but also desperately and irrevocably in love with you. so, in lieu of giving proper answers and advice, he assures them that you are already taken, by no one else but him. and to be completely honest, it works quite well. he even likes to, just for the sake of the silly little lie— of course, be really clingy in front of others. you don’t mind, he has always been like that, and it makes him happy to touch you for a second and be your lover. even if it’s through everyone’s eyes but yours.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 ｡ ｡ he has a special radar for whoever has romantic interests towards you. i mean, he would know how having a crush ok you feels like. since he has been in love with you since primary school. so, where are both around someone who seems to like a you a little bit too much, he starts his extra-clingy and affectionate best friend act. draping his arm on your shoulders, talking to you nonstop and asking for your attention as soon as your eyes go on anywhere else but him. “are you drunk?” you laugh all of the time, not even annoyed in the slightest. he is drunk, drunk in love.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 ｡ ｡ he is unable to control his face when a guy comes to talk to you. he stares at him with a disgusted and utterly offended expression on the surface of his face. as soon as romance is being involved, he tugs you close without thinking— the petname ‘sweetheart’ even slip out. you don’t seem to mind, you only excuse yourself to your other interlocutor before focusing fully on your best friend. when you don’t look, he shoots to the flabbergasted man a very proud grin. he loves to be your favorite.

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 ｡ ｡ he is flabbergasted, took over by immense disbelief and utter shock. he just watched the cashier shamelessly flirt with you— right in front of hom, without decorum. yes, he is not your boyfriend, but come on! he believes that the cashier should have been a little bit ashamed at least. “please,” he pleads as soon as you get out of the shop. “don’t tell me you are going to go out with that guy.” you immediately smile, a teasing question already tingling your tongue, “why? are you jealous?” his heart drops, his face reddens and he starts walking as you chuckle.

𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 ｡ ｡ uses all his strength to try to not be jealous— alas, he fails as soon as he even thinks about you and that ‘nobody’ together. he looks at you with sad eyes and a frown, as if he was a kicked puppy, whereupon you tell him you got asked on a date by the stranger. “wouldn’t you rather spend time with me?” he asks you, and you giggle. “what? this guy will be boring in two weeks but, i will be fun forever.” this idiot isn’t even able to contain his happiness when you tell him that he is right, that you will stay with him tonight. he is so happy that he hugs you, tight.

𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open & network : @sgz-net

[misayani]

MAGNETIC — SQUID GAME WOMEN + THANOS AND YOU BEING THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE OF THEM HCS

◜ featuring ... kang mi-na (player 196), no eul (guard 011), se-mi (player 380), jun-hee (player 222), hyun-ju (player 120), young-mi (player 195), + thanos (player 230)

𔗨 author's note — IM FUCKING BAAAAAAAAACKKKK RAWGHHRRR !!!!!! writing this had me SWEATING considering the lack of information of them in the show. anddd im closing the requests for now. id like to work on the current requests in my inbox before i open it again ♡ [lowercase intended]

mi na —

- at first you were hesitant to confess your feelings to her because why  would she want to be with someone like you?

- and then you kept avoiding her and denying your feelings to avoid getting hurt 

- then, life surprises you, she kissed you on the night she took you out for a 'girlFRIEND date'

- AND THEN BAM !!! dating

- she's feisty and confident, you're gentle and shy

- mi-na is the type to be sassy and bitchy to everyone and then when it comes to you she turns into a total softie

- "thanos, i swear if you don't shut the fuck up—" "mi-na?" "yes honey?"

- SHE LOVES CALLING YOU SWEET NICKNAMES JUST TO SEE YOU MELT

- you'd think mi-na likes to be treated like a princess and then it turns out that she's the one treating YOU like a princess

- when you're speaking and someone completely cuts you off, without a second thought, she'll speak up

- "my girlfriend is speaking??"

- when someone's rude to you, she'll handle it for you

- "excuse me? watch your words when you're talking to her."

- she doesn't do this all the time though

- she wants you to learn how to speak up for yourself 

- but she definitely doesn't let it pass when someone crosses the line

- there was this one time where mi-na legit got into a catfight after someone humiliated you in front of many people

- she got humiliated in front of the people too but she DIDNT feel humiliated at all

- the bitch just messed with her girlfriend, and she just stepped up for you. what's humiliating about that?

- (outside squid game) let's say thanos is a mutual close friend you both have

- whenever he pisses her off, he immediately runs to you for defense since mi-na has a soft spot for you

- overall, mi-na likes taking care of you and you're gentle to her sooo it's a win-win for the both of you !!!

- she loves her shy gf so much, it makes her all mushy and softie

no eul —

- she's hard, you're soft

- oops i may have worded that wrong

- GRUMPY X SUNSHINE 

- you always wake her up with kisses and she'll open her eyes to the sight of you smiling at her

- then she'll complain, grumbling about your "unreasonable" optimism. but she literally lets you kiss her the whole time anyways !!

- no-eul constantly furrows her eyebrows at your cheery attitude as if she was judging you. BUT DEEP DEEP DOWN, her heart swells for you

- she might be grumpy through words, but it's the actions that speak louder

- if someone's mean to HER sunshine, expect their face to get fucked up

- her love language is acts of service btw!!!!

- you will never ever get to hold a door ever again when you're with her cs she'll always open them for you

- AND SHE LOVES GIVING YOU 'JUST BECAUSE' GIFTS

- "here." she hands you a boquet of sunflowers with A CUTE LITTLE NOTE ON THE SIDE THAT SAYS I LOVE YOU, "awhh thank you! but, what's the occasion?" and then she just shrugs

- back then, whenever the two of you got into an argument, a bad trait she used to do is to shut you out. while you, on the other hand, always wanted to talk things through and find solutions 

- after a few attempts, you eventually break her walls down and then she finally lets you in

- "...i'm sorry" "it's okay! we're in this together, 'kay?" 

- she feels so bad because what if you're just trying to put up with her 

- and then that worry completely washes away when she feels that you're actually genuine. 

- you don't just say sweet shit, you act them out.

- and she'll forever be thankful for you

- you're the reason why she wakes up everyday, you're the reason why she takes care of herself, you're the reason why she learned to love herself

se mi —

- this woman has a sharp tongue

- which can definitely be used in multiple ways but mostly for saying sarcastic remarks

- (in the games) she's expressive but then she's emotionally guarded at the same time. she won't be scared to speak her mind but she rarely shows her expressions physically

- oh gosh. her and her fucked up humor

- others may think she never takes shit seriously, but it's actually THEM she's not taking seriously

- she absolutely doesn't like openly-vulnerable people. it's not anything personal, she just thinks that it's stupid to show emotions like that in a death game like this where anyone could literally take advantage of you.

- and then here comes you, kind and empathetic

- you're the type to put others first before you, and she hates that fact, but not you

- you're expressive with your feelings also, but instead of being like her, who masks it perfectly with her sarcastic exterior, you're genuine.

- you believe that showing real emotions is a way to connect with people

- se-mi had observed you during the six-legged pentathlon. it amuses her seeing you work well with your team.

- she fucking hates the fact that you're just so kind and open to every one, not even thinking twice to help others.

- (outside squid game) while se-mi sees the world as harsh and unforgiving, you always tell her about the bright side and hope and some happy shit. and she didn't like that

- she didn't like how you're actually starting to make her see even just the tad bit good in some things

- and then the next thing she knows is that she literally starts to think about you in every single fucking thing

- she sees sunlight, she thinks of you. she sees flowers, she thinks of you. she sees butterflies, she thinks of you. man, even whenever she buys her favourite cherry ice cream, somehow the ice cream legit reminds her of you. because apparently, to her, ice cream gives off positive vibes ????? 

- and positive vibes are YOU !!

- over time, she may not admit it but she definitely cannot deny that she's starting to soften under your influence

- and who knows? maybe she's starting to see that kindness isn't always a weakness. 

jun hee —

- she's an introvert, you're an extrovert. need i say more

- junhee mostly keeps to herself, but unlike no-eul, she isn't totally closed-off

- she's quiet and won't react unless needed

- you on the other hand, reacts to everyfuckingthing

- somebody's hand gets too close to her belly? "GET AWAY!"

- you even audibly gasp when someone gives her a dirty stare

- (outside squid game) when jun-hee gets excited about something, she'll just smile. but it immediately drops as soon as she turns her head to look at you who almost fell on the floor, face first, because of jumping around like crazy.

- it amazes her a lot how you make it look easy to just start a conversation with a complete stranger

- now whenever you make friends, she also makes new friends, because you always introduce your girlfriend to them !! <3

- between the two of you, you're the one who usually initiates physical touch

- just simple and cute hugs here and there, sometimes kisses, sometimes more than kisses

- she's the type to show her love to you through simple gestures like making you your favorite tea, playing your favorite song on the TV, writing you notes before she goes out while you're still sleeping (awwhdjsjssk)

- and then you're the type to express your feelings VERY LOUDLY

- telling her "i love yous" whenever you always get the chance to which is like every minute—but you mean every single one everytime—, giving her tight hugs, prepping soft kisses on her face, demanding her to give you cuddles.

- everything needs balance, so jun-hee learned to socialize more and have fun while you learned to be more mindful whenever she needs her own quiet time

hyun ju —

- hyun-ju tends to be cool-headed and calm in most scenarios, while you are always on your toes and stressed and just so energetic overall

- hyun-ju shows love in subtle ways, like doing your hair or giving you quick pecks on the cheek ♡

- she never fails to notice it when you're stressed. she'd grab your hand and start massaging it softly

- whenever your friends invite you to a night out, you always ask them if you could bring hyun-ju !!!!

- it's simple: they refuse, you aren't going. if they say yes, then be prepared to have one of the best nights out in your lives BECAUSE hyun-ju is fun!!!! hello ? being an introvert does not mean you're not any fun

- hyun-ju would literally chug up every drink your friends give her

- and then theres you who's worried as fuck because what if she vomits???? and you HATE vomit, eugh !!

- the next morning comes and then hangover finally hits her

- you, being a good girlfriend, always brings her water and some pills to help her with the headache

- 'hyun-ju drink this' 'hyun-ju drink that' which results to her needing to pee like every 5 minutes

- she calms you down, telling you that she's fine and all she needs is you beside her

- literally just your presence

- and then despite having a headache, she would ask you to yap for her, she just loves hearing your voice

- overall, hyun-ju is forever thankful for you. she appreciates the fact that you're always alert about things but she also reminds you to let loose sometimes.

young mi —

- she's shy, you're not

- you're so mean for always teasing the poor girl

- but you can't help it, not when you always catch her staring at you

- "do you need anything? or do you just need me?" 

- give her a damn break

- not a day goes by without you hugging the hell out of her

- "you're so flufffyyyyyy babyy" "...thank you?.." 

- she always seeks comfort in you, since you're the one who keeps things exciting

- in public, young-mi doesn't speak up much, so you speak for her when needed

- "excuse me, you got her food wrong." "it's fine i swear!!"

- it's surprising but she's actually the one who initiates affection most of the time, she'd just shyly do it

- during arguments, she might struggle to express her feelings sometimes through words, and even when you're supposed to be mad at her, you still try to keep your calm and help her speak for herself

- it always ends up with the both of you apologizing to each other. you would never let your girlfriend sleep with a heavy heart, never.

- sometimes you'd surprise her with cute gifts like small trinkets or cute plushies !!! 

- as time goes by, young-mi slowly learns to speak up for herself, because, of course, you're not always going to be by her side. 

thanos — 

- PLAYFUL BF + SERIOUS GF

- he thinks you have such a hot resting bitch face

- LIKE HE'D LITERALLY INTERNALLY SQUEAL LIKE A HIGH SCHOOLER

- babygirl bf + girlboss gf <3

- you're never scared to speak up for yourself. thanos insists on punching anyone who does you wrong but you assure him that you're fully capable of doing that yourself

- "THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND BRO!!"

- literally brags you to nam-gyu and talks about you almost all the time

- nam-gyu's fucking tired of it.

- people thinks this man fears no one?? he's fucking scared of YOU

- FOLDS WHEN U CALL HIM BY HIS FULL GOVERNMENT NAME

- "cmon baby, give thanos a kiss." "choi su-bong." "what:(("

- but when nam-gyu learns about his full name and starts teasing him about it and calling him that:

- "hey, only she's allowed to call me that. mind your business." "dang okay bro" 

- literally goes crazy when he texts you something and you reply with an "ok."

- "the fuck did i do nowww"

- he internally cheers when you're on your period because that'll mean you'll ask him for kisses and hugs

- "baby, let's cuddle please" "oh look at what we have here now—" "nevermind." "NO! yes, yes, let's cuddle"

- to others, he's tough and mighty but when it comes to you, he submits

- LMAO when he tries to call you by your full name to try and reverse the roles, you just give him a weird look and that made him want to bury himself 6 feet under.

- he's very very clingy, would literally sulk when you don't give him a goodbye kiss before you leave the house 

- when you're in a bad mood, he tries his best to cheer you up, like rapping random sweet shit to you or attempting to dance in front of you. keyword: attempting

- and as soon as he saw that small smile form on your face, he almost felt like everything went slow motion

- you're so gorgeous, he's down bad for you

- but he genuinely feels happy once he knows that you're fine now because of him !!

- he's so silly :3

@misayani

𝓜isa mentions — @joc3lynx @mymel1008 @justredsw @wlvlurvsfimmia @azansstuff @dvrk-hoon @yersang-dreams

[playnextdoor]

dating modern abby headcannons

cw: both sfw and nsfw

Abby didn’t know naps could be a luxury until she met you. She was always on her feet, never stopping long enough to close her eyes for a "weak" 30 minutes. But now? That quick nap became her personal slice of heaven. Her cranky, sleep-deprived self would curl up next to you, her face buried in your neck. By the time she woke, she’d be all sunshine, grinning like she hadn’t just been grumbling an hour ago.

Sweet tooth!!!!!!! She loves sweets, especially dark chocolate. If you ever peek into her bedside drawer, you’ll find a nearly demolished chocolate bar waiting for her nightly ritual.

“What?” she says with a shrug, stuffing a square into her mouth. “I like a piece of chocolate before bed,” Her eyebrows furrow as she chews, eyeing you like you’re judging her life choices.

“Nothing,” you chuckle, watching her puffed cheeks work overtime. “I never met anyone who would do that.”

Her arms crossed immediately, mock-offended. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh my god, Abigal, nothing, it’s cute.” You lean in, silencing her pout with a kiss, the faint bitterness of chocolate lingering on her lips.

Abby has a thing for books. Not just reading them—collecting them. We’re talking first editions, special releases, and rare overseas copies. This girl gets down. Her study practially a library, shelves nearly touching the ceiling filled with books, some on display and some in special casings. You even catch her one day, headphones blasting as she carefully and meticulously cleaned some of the books. The music was so opposite to what she was doing, her hands handling the covers so carefully. Instantly wet holyyyyyy

This goes with her being veryyyy clean and organized. It was so cute when you snooped in her drawers, her undergarments folded up so neatly in rows, and her socks in perfect little squares. 

She likes her space, which you understood very early in the relationship. Sometimes, the two of you would be on separate ends of the couch, her playing some game on the TV while you color in your coloring books, or when she would carve out days for the two of you and then days for just her. She loved you dearly, and it was just that she needed the only time to recharge.

Really into speakeasies. It’s her preferred place to grab a drink with you. The dim lighting, quiet atmosphere, and cozy corners make it her ideal date spot. She also likes sitting with you in some dimly lit corner, you more tipsy than her, laughing hysterically at some awful joke she said. If you really wanted to go to a club and shake ass, you bet Abby is going to take you, but she’s just gonna stand behind you like an awkward teenage boy getting grinded on for the first time.

This girl is not big on PDA, sorry not sorry. She’ll hold your hand, wrap her arm around you, maybe a kiss here and there, but she will most likely shy away from anything else, not that she’s embarrassed, she prefers to keep things just for you and her.

Food is Abby’s love language! Loves cooking, loves trying new places, loves eating, period. How else do you think she keeps her physique?

Speaking of muscles, the gym is practically her second home. She’s not a gym rat per se, but she’s got a solid routine, especially when it comes to upper body days. She loves how her arms look in T-shirts, but she loves that you love them even more.

Keys clanked into the trinket dish as Abby slipped off her shoes. Just getting back from the gym, all she is thinking about is going straight to the shower; once wet with sweat, her shirt feels disgusting on her. She sees you eyeing her from the kitchen, occasionally looking up from your phone, eyes lingering on her bulging arms; the pump did her good today because you’re ready to strip naked right there. She flashes a knowing smile as she puts her things away. She strides towards you, coming next to you to place a kiss on your head.

“How was the gym?” turning off your phone to provide her the full attention she most definitely deserved, hand creeping to caress the veins that littered down her forearms all the way up to the hard muscle on her bicep, squeezing it.

Abby just watches you, smile bitten back as you look almost in awe at how fucking massive her arms are, your sweet eyes meeting up to hers.

“Good,” she murmurs, watching your fascination. Her voice drops, low and teasing. “Something on your mind?”

“Mmm,” you hum, nails raking lightly over her back. She groans softly, and you know exactly where this is going.

nsfw

Boobs. Loves boobies. Likes to look at them, have them in her hands, in her mouth. Sure, she appreciates your ass—who wouldn’t? But there’s just something about slipping your nipple into her mouth, especially in those early morning hours. The sensation wakes you in a frenzy, loving how Abby does this for herself. Or when the two are cuddling, she’ll sometimes lay her face in them, the warmth of your scent lulling her to sleep.

Pronebone is her favorite position aside from missionary. Any time and any day, she is tightening the straps and fucking you into the mattress.

Speaking of tightening straps, the first time you did it, Abby nearly came, hips stuttering as she felt the firm tug of your hand tightening one of the straps that sat at her hip. Lord have mercyyy just thinking about how she would just pant above you, her golden hair cascading around your face like a curtain. Her hips moved against yours in a rhythm so devastatingly slow and deliberate hnghhhhhhh

Stone top AT FIRST. She told you right before your first time together, you didn’t mind, genuinely. You have always been on both the receiving and giving end, so you were willing to be open for your girlfriend. And fuck how much it turned you on when Abby would slip a hand in her own pants as she ate you out, nearly heaving into you as you both came. It wasn't until a couple of months into the relationship that you asked.

Grinding down on her jean-clad thigh, the rough seam pressed perfectly against your cunt, drawing out a needy whimper that matched the low groans spilling from Abby’s lips. Her soft “mhm’s” spurred you on, the delicious friction pulling the two of you deeper.

Abby didn’t know what shifted in her—it might have been when you slid to your knees with a slow, deliberate grace, your nails dragging down her thighs. Her body moved instinctively, thighs spreading wide as if something had taken over her.

Or maybe it was when you pressed your cheek near where you needed her the most. Her hand came to caress your head, finding it so endearing how eager you had been all night, your fingers lingering for just a second longer, lips finding solace in her neck as you murmured how bad you needed her. She should have known you were going to beg eventually.

“Abby, please.”

You didn’t even need to elaborate, eyes were locked on the belt still fastened at her waist, the buckle catching the light and taunting you. Her own gaze, glossy and heavy with want, flickered down to meet yours.

Fuck. How could she possibly say no?

She can get rough if you would like, but she prefers to cuddlefuck than to fuck you upside down and sideways.

This goes back to the pronebone position, something you didn’t even know had a name until you tried explaining it to Abby in a very clumsy, very horny way. After that, Abby does it at least once when you guys have sex.

She’ll have your face down, your elbows digging into the bed as she fucked your leaking cunt with two thick fingers. Abby always took her time, kissing up the curve of your ass, her lips soft and warm against your heated skin. When she finally slipped her fingers out, you’d whimper in protest, only for her strong hands to press you further into the bed, spreading you open as her groan mingled with yours. The blanket so warm underneath you, mixing with the weight of her body and hands on you, have you in such a blissful haze.

“Yeah?” Abby asked, her voice low and breathless. You could barely process what she was saying, too lost in the feeling, but you nodded eagerly into the pillow, pushing your ass higher in response.

Chuckling, she sat perched on the backs of your thighs, holding you in place as she made your body tremble with anticipation. Sliding up and down with the tip of her black 6 1/2-inch faux cock it only makes you wiggle around impatiently. With a teasing pinch to your thigh to remind you to relax she finally shifts, pushing its length into you so slow you nearly grab it to put it in yourself. The stretch had your whimpers climbing into desperate, high-pitched cries muffled by the pillows. The pillows do what you need them to do because if you remove them, people will think someone is dying in there. Well, kind of, don't the french say orgasm means "tiny death"? Yeah that was happening.

Prefers if you orgasm first. She claims her own release isn't as satisfying when you don't.

“I dunno, Abby.”

The words escaped in a soft gasp as you abruptly sat up. Abby’s lips popped off your mound, glossy and parted, her wide eyes locking on yours in utter confusion. “I can’t…”

Her brows furrowed, her head tilting slightly as if to ask why in the world you’d stop her now. “Can’t what?” she asked, inching closer like she didn’t plan on letting you go anywhere.

“Cum,” you admitted, pushing her head away gently, though you both knew she wouldn’t take kindly to it.

Sure enough, she shook your hand off and gave you a look that could only be described as determined.

“Stop. Lay your ass down."

Before you could protest, she scoots you closer, which causes you to fall back into the mattress, her lips finding the inside of your thighs, skin slightly tacky from her spit and your slickness.

“No, like actually,” you said again, sitting up despite her best efforts to keep you in place, your legs starting to close instinctively.

Abby pouts, and you can’t help but mimic her expression because this poor girl has been following you around like a lovesick puppy ever since you got home from work, clearly bored and horny, while you were too stressed and tired to even think about anything else. She was all smooth with it, too, claiming she was going to “put you to bed,” but your head was still spinning with thoughts of annoying coworkers and unfinished tasks. You were too far in your own head to focus on the woman between your legs who was clearly trying to help.

Her warm hands found your shoulders, pressing with that unique weight only she carried, her thumbs kneading gently. The gesture softened you immediately.

“We can totally stop, it's just..." Her lips find yours in a gentle yet hungry kiss, her teeth nipping then soothing it with the wet of her tongue. You nearly moaned into her mouth, your body betraying every word you were about to say. “I have been wanting to taste you all fucking day. I know you had a shit day, but please, baby, I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight if you don’t come on my face”

You couldn’t help it; you burst into laughter, and Abby froze, staring at you ???????

“Oh, you’re serious,” you managed between fits of giggles, your eyes watering as you met her utterly unamused glare.

Two minutes of laughing later, Abby had had enough. With a firm nod, she launched herself forward, tackling you onto the bed and pinning you beneath her. Her body weight pressed you into the mattress, her lips hovering over yours, and you could see that look in her eyes that she was really going to put you to bed this time.

a/n: this sucks butt lol but i hope you all enjoy still.

[rafecameronssl4t]

When in Charleston || Drew Starkey x fem!reader

Summary: you have a horrible encounter with one of Drew’s fans out in public.

Warnings: none!

Word count: 1,060

MASTERLIST

You and Drew stroll through the streets of Charleston, the cobblestones beneath your feet felt comforting and gave you a sense of familiarity. You had just arrived in South Carolina to support Drew whilst he was filming the next season of Outer Banks. Layla and Freddie, your lively dogs, bound ahead, their enthusiasm contagious as they sniff at every tree and shrub in their path.

Your arm was wrapped around Drew's waist as his arm rested around your shoulder making you closer to him as the two of you talked about anything and everything, just enjoying each other's company and the quietness of the street. Your peaceful stroll is interrupted when a young woman, probably in her early twenties, catches sight of Drew from across the street.

Her eyes light up with recognition, and she all but sprints towards you, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. You exchange a knowing glance with Drew—this isn’t your first encounter with a fan, and you’ve learned to take these moments in stride. “Hi, Drew!” she exclaims breathlessly, her excitement barely contained. Drew, ever the gentleman, offers her his signature warm smile. “Hey, how’s it going?” he asks, his tone friendly but measured.

The woman doesn’t seem to register his response, already fumbling with her phone. “Oh my god, can I take a picture with you?” she blurts out. Without so much as acknowledging your presence, the woman thrusts her phone into your hands. “Here, take this,” she says bluntly, her tone leaving little room for negotiation. The abruptness catches you off guard, and you hesitate for a moment before muttering, “Uh, okay.”

Drew’s eyebrows knit together slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face, though he masks it quickly. As you position the phone, the fan moves closer to Drew, looping her arm around his waist with a familiarity that makes your stomach tighten. Drew, ever respectful, keeps his hand hovering lightly on her back, his body language stiff. “Make sure it’s good,” she instructs sharply, glancing at you with a dismissive look before focusing all her attention back on Drew.

Drew shifts uncomfortably, clearly irritated by her lack of manners. Her tone is enough to make your cheeks burn, but you force a polite smile and frame the shot, snapping a couple of photos quickly. When you hand the phone back, she snatches it without so much as a “thank you,” her attention already fixed on the screen as she inspects the pictures. Satisfied, she offers Drew a quick, “Thanks!” before walking off, leaving you both standing there in an awkward silence.

Drew lets out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “She seemed nice,” he mutters, his sarcasm biting. You can’t help but laugh, the tension easing slightly. “Yeah, a real sweetheart,” you reply dryly. “They’re not usually like that, trust me,” he says, his irritation still evident. “It’s fine,” you reply, brushing it off, though the encounter left a small sting. Drew notices, of course, because he always does.

Sliding his arm around your shoulders, he pulls you in closer. “Don’t let it get to you,” he says, his tone softening. Then, with a cheeky grin, he adds, “I didn’t even really smile in the photo. So, joke’s on her.” You can’t help but laugh again, his humour cutting through the awkwardness of the moment. That’s one of the things you love most about Drew—his ability to make you feel better, no matter what.

Later that evening, as the two of you relax at home with Layla and Freddie curled up on the couch, Drew pulls out his phone. Typically, his Instagram is a mix of work updates and occasional behind-the-scenes shots, but tonight, he decides to share something more personal.

drewstarkey

Liked by yourusername, madelyncline, brooke_starkey, oliviajade and 2,937,180 other

I don’t usually post things like this, but it feels important to say. I absolutely love meeting you all and am always so grateful for your support—it truly means the world to me. That said, let’s remember to approach these moments with kindness and respect, not just towards me but also to the people who are important in my life. Being demanding, shoving phones in someone’s hands, or disregarding others isn’t the way to go. Let’s keep these interactions positive and memorable for all the right reasons. Much love to every one of you!

view all comments

yourusername: 🐶❤

↘️ drewstarkey: love you!

madelyncline: Always so proud of you for standing up for yourself and the people you love. You and Y/n deserve all the respect. imu guys!

↘️ yourusername: miss you more 🥺

alexademie: preach.

hichasestokes: Couldn’t have said it better myself, brother. Love you and your crew! 🙌

user1: You shouldn’t even have to say this, but I’m glad you did. You and your loved ones deserve all the respect in the world 🫶

user2: I seriously don’t understand people who call themselves “fans” and do disrespectful shit like this

user3: Is this about the incident that happened today??

↘️ user4: yup. It’s all over Twitter and tiktok rn

↘️ user5: the “fan” is getting slandered so hard rn

user6: wait I’m so confused. What happened?

↘️ user7: basically a “fan” came up to Drew and Y/n and demanded y/n to take the photo for them and she was just overall rude

user8: so funny how Drew isn’t even smiling in the photo 😭

↘️ user9: HAHAHAHHA I WANNA SEE THIS PIC

↘️ user10: it’s on TikTok!!

[sleepy-tiger78]

This is a serious issue we need to talk about more. Aroace characters like Senku and Saiki K are constantly misrepresented. Like yeah Saiki says something similar to “she has a nice face shape that makes her look attractive” but he wasn’t saying he was attracted to her. Literally the whole series is him trying to get away from her also just because he wants to be like that one basic dude don’t mean he wants to be with the basic dude.

With Senku he has no romantic partner. Yeah it was hinted in the anime as a joke, multiple times but that’s the point. It was referenced as a JOKE for a reason.

Also both anime’s are comedy anime’s so the main character is more likely to not get a love interest or to not be in love so the series can keep going. In most anime’s once the main character falls in love and settles down then the anime ends. Like if Luffy got a wife after he finds the one piece, or when Kaneki got married, when Tanjiro and kanao settle down.

In comedy’s they typically like to leave it on a cliff hanger. They want the audience to feel incomplete so they will gain more off the series. Yeah Senku and Kohaku kissed but it was only a misdirection and they both were genuinely grossed out by it and they looked like they were about to throw up.

Dr Stone wouldn’t end with Senku settling down with someone. That’s just not how he is. Even after he saves the whole world he’s gonna keep doing things. Making new inventions and maybe leave all his work for a successor to do the same thing he did. It’s Senku, he’s not gonna do the deed when instead he could be helping the world get back on track.

And if we’re being fr rn there is NO WAY either of them would do that. Like I’ve pictured it and all I can picture is Senku about the throw up and Saiki passing out. Maybe it’s just self projection but I’m just being fr rn.

!!!!ALSO I KNOW BOTH THESE CHARACTERS ARNT CANONICALLY AROACE BUT I JUST NEEDED AN EXAMPLE AND I THOUGH OF THEM FIRST!!!

the way fandoms are desperate to make all aroace characters romance and sex favorable but then dont do anything remotely similar to any other identity is astounding. hmm i wonder why

PLEASE dont derail this about shipping characters of other identities please let this one post be about an aroace struggle

[orangeblossomsintheair]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS (3/3) | CS55

summary : You shouldn’t have said anything. You really shouldn’t have. But it’s too late now. “He sent me a dildo shaped like his cock,” you mutter under your breath, so fast you almost hope she didn’t hear you.

wc : 14k

an : This might be the end of the Illicit Affairs series! Honestly I might write another part (as I intended) but I realized it could also end here. I might work it alongside a few other fics on the back burner.

The thing about Carlos is that he doesn’t tiptoe. He doesn’t hesitate.

He’s the kind of guy who walks into your life, plops down, and acts like he’s always been there.

At first, you think he’s just passing through, like one of those tumbleweeds in old Westerns. Here for a moment, gone in another, leaving only a faint memory and maybe a little dust.

But Carlos is no tumbleweed.

He’s ivy. Creeping into the corners of your life, attaching himself with relentless charm and absolutely zero warning.

At first, it had just been sex.

Carlos calls, you pick up, and the two of you dive headfirst into whatever filthy scenario he’s cooked up for the evening.

It’s hot, it’s fun, and afterwards, you both lie there catching your breath while exchanging a few words like some half-hearted attempt at aftercare.

“Good for you?” he’ll ask, panting, his voice somehow managing to sound both teasing and sincere.

“Sure,” you say, rolling your eyes at the ceiling. “Top ten, at least.”

He laughs. Deep, warm, addictive. “I’ll aim for top five next time.”

It’s simple. Casual. Exactly what you signed up for.

Until it’s not.

Until the minutes start to stretch.

At first, it’s just an extra five. Then ten. Then before you know it, the two of you are sitting there, chatting about absolutely nothing long after the heat of the moment has faded.

Next thing you know Carlos is reaching out for the sake of company.

It’s easy to brush it off at first.

To pretend it’s harmless.

Carlos is just a guy who’s annoyingly good at making you laugh and has a voice so smooth it could probably negotiate world peace or at least a really good discount at a used car dealership.

But then, one afternoon, as you’re scrolling through your texts, you realize something horrifying:

You talk to Carlos more than you talk to your friends.

No, scratch that. You talk to Carlos more than you talk to anyone.

And it’s not just the sheer volume. It’s the content.

It’s the way his words sneak into your day, set up camp, and throw a block party. He texts you good morning before you’ve even had coffee, which is frankly criminal.

Carlos Rise and shine, baby. Did you dream about me again?

You I dreamed I hit you with my car

Carlos Hot. Was I shirtless?

You No, but you were crying. Freaked me out

Carlos Probably because I looked so good

You should block him.

You should delete his number.

You do neither, because somewhere deep down, you’re a masochist.

He doesn’t stop at morning texts either.

He sends unsolicited opinions all day, every day.

Carlos Do you think cows ever get tired of standing?

You They sit, Carlos. They sit all the time.

Carlos Yeah, but like, emotionally? What if they’re just pretending to like grass because they’re scared of change

You What would they change to, exactly? Chicken nuggets?

Carlos Maybe. Cows could be wild carnivores waiting for their moment. We don’t know what they’re capable of.

One day, while you're halfway through a bag of chips, your phone buzzes again.

Carlos Do you think birds ever judge us for not flying?

You You need therapy

Carlos So do you, but I don’t judge

You You judge me constantly 🤨

The banter becomes relentless.

Carlos If you had to pick one food to eat for the rest of your life, what would it be?

You Pasta

Carlos Predictable. You’re so basic it physically hurts

You Pretentious words from a man whose favorite snack is probably caviar

Carlos First of all, how dare you

You You’re trash

Carlos Trash that you text back btw

Then comes the random photos.

He sends you a blurry picture of his sneakers one afternoon.

Carlos Do these make me look fast? Be honest, but also lie

You Fast to embarrass yourself

Carlos Wow. Jealousy is a disease. Get well soon

Carlos Does it change anything if I say they’re limited edition

You Limited edition ugly

He sends you a picture of his dog another day, sprawled on the couch like he pays rent.

Carlos We’ve decided to boycott walkies today.

Solidarity with my guy.

You Tell him he’s lazy

Carlos He says those are bold words from someone who hasn’t hit the gym this week

You glare at the screen. It’s 7 a.m. How does he even know that?

You Your dog is illiterate. Don’t drag him into this

Carlos Rude. He’s very smart

You He licks his own butt

He becomes a fixture in your life without you even noticing.

Carlos Did you miss me while I was asleep?

One morning, you’re sipping your coffee when your phone buzzes.

You I slept better knowing you weren’t conscious

Carlos So, you’re saying you dreamt about me

You I dreamt I moved to a remote island where Wi-Fi doesn’t exist

Carlos Romantic getaway for two. Love that for us

You groan, but your fingers are already typing a response.

And somehow, without you realizing it, Carlos isn’t just a voice on the phone or a name on your screen.

He’s everywhere, weaving himself into your days with his relentless humor and absolute refusal to leave you alone.

That’s why when a day passes by without any contact, you’re tilted off balance.

The silence is unnerving.

You tell yourself it’s just one night.

One single night where Carlos doesn’t text or call, and you should be relieved.

Grateful, even, for the reprieve from his relentless antics.

But you’re not.

You spend the evening trying not to think about it.

You scroll through Instagram, open a book, binge half a season of some random series. But every few minutes, you find yourself glancing at your phone, waiting for it to light up.

It doesn’t.

The hours crawl by, and by the time you’re lying in bed, glaring at the ceiling, you’re starting to feel… itchy. Annoyed. Frustrated. And maybe just a little bit unreasonably hurt.

Then, finally, your phone buzzes.

You grab it so fast you nearly knock it off the nightstand.

Carlos Miss me?

Your stomach does a ridiculous little flip, but you type back quickly.

You Not even a little

Carlos Liar

Another message follows: a selfie of him holding the meerkat plushie you’d sent him as a joke a week ago.

Carlos He misses you too

You groan, but your cheeks ache from smiling.

Carlos By the way

Carlos I sent you a gift

You I didn’t get a package?

Carlos Wait

Carlos Call me when you get it

You shake your head, setting your phone down.

It’s probably something stupid. Knowing Carlos, it could be anything from a ridiculous gag gift to an actual penguin.

Two days later, a package arrives.

It’s sitting on your kitchen counter, deceptively normal-looking for something that Carlos sent.

You eye it warily, debating whether you should even bother opening it.

You stare at it for a good ten minutes, arms crossed, trying to decide whether you should call him first or just dump it straight into the trash.

Eventually, curiosity (and mild fear) wins out. You grab your phone and click the topmost contact.

It rings once before he picks up.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you,” Carlos says, his voice smooth and entirely too smug.

“What the hell did you send me?” you demand without preamble.

“Why don’t you open it and find out?”

“Carlos.”

“Yes?”

You groan, already regretting this decision. “I swear to God, if it’s alive-”

“It’s not alive,” he interrupts.

“Then what is it?”

“Open it.”

“No,” you snap. “Because if it’s something awful, I can’t unsee it. I’m preemptively traumatized. Just tell me what it is so I can mentally prepare.”

“That’s not how surprises work,” he replies, completely unbothered.

“It’s not a surprise if I hate it,” you point out.

“You won’t hate it.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“You might be pleasantly surprised,” he insists, and there’s a tone in his voice, something too smug, too amused, that makes your stomach churn with suspicion.

“Carlos,” you warn.

“Yes?”

“If this is some kind of prank-”

“It’s not a prank,” he says, cutting you off again. “It’s a gift. A thoughtful, meaningful, deeply personal gift.”

“Deeply personal?” you echo, narrowing your eyes at the box like it’s about to explode. “That doesn’t sound reassuring.”

“It’s just a little something to remind you of me,” he adds, which is possibly the least reassuring thing he could have said.

You exhale sharply through your nose, setting your phone down on the counter so he can see.

His face lights up on the screen, all lazy smirks and overconfidence, and you hate the way your stomach flips at the sight of him.

Grabbing a pair of scissors, you slice through the tape with the caution of someone defusing a bomb.

Carlos watches you with rapt attention, his chin resting on his hand. “Excited?”

“I’m terrified,” you deadpan, peeling back the flaps of the box.

For a moment, you just stare.

Then, you shriek. Loudly.

“Carlos, what the fuck?!”

He leans closer to the camera, his grin widening. “You like it?”

“You sent me a dildo?!” you yell, your voice an octave higher than usual.

“Not just any dildo,” he says smugly, sitting back like he’s the king of the universe.

You stare at him, then at the object in the box, and back at him again.

It looks… normal, at first glance.

But then you notice the size. The veins. The shade.

The very specific details.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, horror dawning. “It’s your… your…”

“My cock,” he supplies helpfully. “Yep.”

“Carlos!” you screech, clutching the box like it’s cursed. “You’re a lunatic!”

“True,” he says, completely unfazed. “But admit it- you’re impressed.”

“Impressed?!” you repeat, your voice pitching even higher. “What is WRONG with you?!”

“A lot,” he admits, far too cheerfully. “But you already knew that.”

“How did you even- who does this?!”

“Visionaries,” he says smoothly. “Trendsetters. People who care deeply about customer satisfaction.”

“Customer?!”

“Well, you.”

“I am not your customer!” you yell, holding the replica aloft like it’s a cursed artifact.

Carlos is unbothered. “Technically, you are. You’ve been enjoying the original product for a while now. Or, well, the sight of it.”

You choke on air. “You’re insane.”

“Insanely thoughtful,” he corrects.

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re flustered. It's very cute.”

Your jaw drops. “I am not-”

He cuts you off, grinning wider. “So, when’s the test drive?”

“Oh my God,” you mutter, setting the… thing down and burying your face in your hands. “This isn’t happening.”

“Take your time,” he says, magnanimous. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he adds, like this is a completely normal conversation.

“I didn’t ask for this!”

“I know. That’s what makes it such a great surprise,” he says, his grin practically splitting his face.

“Surprise?!” you echo. “I almost had a heart attack!”

“You’ll appreciate it later,” he says confidently.

“I will not!”

“Bet you will.”

“You need therapy,” you hiss, shoving the box away like it might explode.

“And you need lube,” he counters smoothly.

“You’re deranged!”

“Efficient,” he corrects, smirking. “In case you miss me.”

“I don’t!” you lie, your face burning.

Carlos watches you, entirely too pleased with himself. “You’re keeping it, though.”

“I am absolutely not-”

“Yes, you are,” he interrupts, his tone maddeningly smug.

“I am throwing it in the trash right now!” you declare, grabbing the box and stomping toward the trash can.

He leans closer to the camera, completely unbothered. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

You freeze, hand hovering over the trash.

“There it is,” he says smugly. “Knew you wouldn’t.”

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, stomping back to the counter and slamming the box down.

“And yet, here you are, calling me,” he points out.

“Because I needed to yell at you!”

“And now you’re smiling.”

“I am not smiling!” you yell, even as you turn away from the camera to hide the traitorous curl of your lips.

Carlos laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Admit it- you think it’s funny.”

“I think it’s horrifying!”

“You’re laughing on the inside.”

“I’m plotting your murder on the inside,” you snap.

“Sure, sure,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “So. Again. When are you trying it out?”

“Oh my God,” you mutter, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

“Liar,” he says again, his grin positively devilish.

Before you can come up with a response, he adds, “Just make sure to let me know how it compares to the real thing. For science.”

“You’re insane,” you mutter, grabbing your phone and ending the call with a vicious jab.

Seconds later, your phone buzzes with a text.

Carlos Don’t forget lube, babe. You’re gonna need it. ;)

You stare at the screen, your cheeks burning.

Carlos And batteries. Unless you want to do it the old-fashioned way. Your call.

You want to throw the phone, the box, and maybe yourself out the nearest window.

You Blocked

Carlos Bad girl.

—

Carlos has this way of getting under your skin. Not in an infuriating, "I can’t believe I’m dealing with this" kind of way, but more in the likes of "Why do I secretly enjoy this ridiculousness?"

It starts with a string of increasingly pathetic messages.

Carlos Please?

Carlos Just once?

Carlos I take that back.

Carlos Twice? Maybe even thrice

Carlos C’mon, I’ll be good

Carlos I’m literally begging here

Carlos On my knees

Carlos Pathetically btw

Carlos Do you need a photo for proof?

You roll your eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t fall out of your head.

You Carlos, we are not doing this again

Carlos You say that

Carlos But I feel like deep down you want to. You’re just being stubborn

He replies instantly, because of course he’s sitting there, waiting for your response like his life depends on it.

“Stubborn,” you deadpan, fingers hovering over your phone. “Sure. That’s definitely it.”

And then he hits you with a voice note, because apparently texts alone can’t convey his desperation.

You don’t even mean to open it, but your thumb slips, and suddenly there he is, using that tone that he knows gets to you.

"Just once," he begs, words spilling out of your speakers like some lovesick fool. "I swear I’ll make it worth your time. Please. I just wanna watch you take me again."

You know you shouldn’t.

It’s ridiculous, bordering on embarrassing.

But then you picture his face, probably flushed, probably biting his lip in that way that always gets to you, and against your better judgment, you cave.

You Fine. But just this once

Carlos I love you

Carlos You’re the best

Carlos I’m naming my firstborn after you

You Just call me

Carlos Yes ma'am 🥰

When the call connects, you're met with the sight of Carlos lounging on his couch looking very much the part of a man who's won an impossible bet.

One arm is draped lazily over the backrest, laptop balanced on his thighs.

The soft glow from the screen highlights the sharp angles of his jawline and the shadow of stubble that you know feels just as delicious as it looks.

The smirk that he wears is devastating. An expression of smug satisfaction that makes your pulse race even as you curse him for it.

His shirt clings to his broad chest, the undone buttons teasing you with a glimpse of hard lines across tanned skin.

His eyes are locked onto you.

There’s heat in them, hunger.

He’s relaxed, but you can feel the tension rolling off him, the way he’s barely holding himself back.

And you?

You’re perched on your bed, knees tucked beneath you, completely bare.

The dildo lies heavy in your hand, the silicone cool against your flushed skin.

The sheer indecency of it sends a rush of heat through you, making your thighs clench.

Carlos smirks, his hand disappearing offscreen for a moment, only to return with a slow stroke along his already hard cock.

He leans forward slightly, the movement drawing your eyes to the way his length twitches in his hand.

For someone who was shamelessly begging just minutes ago, Carlos is playing it way too cool now.

“Naked on your bed, holding a mold of my dick,” he says, his voice smooth like it’s a damn sales pitch. “I mean, come on. That’s the kind of devotion poets write sonnets about.”

You snort, rolling your eyes even as your cheeks heat up. “Oh, yeah. Shakespeare totally had this in mind when he wrote, ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day.’”

“Exactly. I’m a classic, baby. Timeless.”

“Delusional,” you counter, grabbing the bottle of lube with way more force than necessary.

His laugh is low and warm, the kind that annoyingly makes your stomach flip. “Call it what you want, but you didn’t say no to my ‘gift.’”

Your glare falters, just for a second, and he catches it immediately. Carlos thrives on cracks in your armor, and his smirk sharpens like a predator who just spotted its prey.

You glare at the bottle in your hand like it personally wronged you. "I hate you," you mutter, squeezing out a glob of lube.

Carlos's face lights up on the screen, all smug satisfaction and unearned charm. "Funny, because you're doing exactly what I asked. Almost like you want to."

"Don’t push your luck,”

He leans closer to his camera, his grin widening. "Oh, pushing my luck is my favorite hobby. You know this."

You level him with a deadpan stare. "And yet, here you are. Still single."

"Wow. Low blow. But fine, I'll allow it, because you're about to make my night."

"Make your night?" You scoff, dragging this out purely to annoy him. "I’m just trying to remember what this was called. A gag gift, right? Or was it just a waste of money?"

His jaw drops. "A gag gift? I can’t believe you’d say that. This is art."

"This is silicone," you reply flatly, holding up the toy with a disapproving shake of your head.

"Silicone art," he corrects, pointing at the screen like that changes anything. His grin sharpens. "And don’t pretend you weren’t curious the moment I sent it to you."

"You sent this to annoy me," you retort, spreading the lube over your fingers with dramatic flair. "And congratulations, it worked."

Carlos leans forward, his chin propped on his hand as he watches you, his dark eyes glittering with mischief.

"Oh, but look at you now. All lubed up and ready to go. Who's the real winner here, hmm?"

"Still me," you shoot back, though your fingers falter as you glance down at the toy.

Your grip tightens as if it’s a stress ball, and the obscene squelch it makes has you biting back a groan.

Carlos’s smirk grows. "Careful, sweetheart. You keep squeezing it like that, and I’ll think you’re practicing for something."

You let out a sharp breath through your nose, refusing to look at him. "You’re insufferable, you know that?"

He leans in even closer. "And you’re still here. Lube in hand. Ready to-"

"Don’t finish that sentence," you interrupt, finally looking up to glare at him. "I’ll block you."

Carlos snickers, leaning back like he’s won. "You’d never block me. I’m your favorite pain in the ass."

"No," you say, grabbing the toy with more force than necessary. "You're just a pain in the ass in general. Huge difference."

His brow arches as he watches you spread the lube along the length of the toy, the slick sound louder than your ego can handle. You freeze mid-motion, hyper-aware of his gaze tracking every movement.

Carlos’s grin falters for a moment, replaced by something darker, hungrier. His voice drops an octave. "Good girl."

The unexpected praise punches the air out of your lungs, and your hands falter, nearly dropping the toy.

"Keep going," he murmurs, his tone rich with satisfaction. His eyes don’t leave yours, the heat in them curling low in your stomach. "Let me see you do it."

Your pride flares, and you straighten your spine, lifting your chin as you resume your movements with exaggerated precision.

"You’re lucky I don’t throw this thing across the room," you grumble.

Carlos hums, his gaze shamelessly lingering. "You wouldn’t dare. That thing cost more than your dignity."

"Bold words for someone whose dignity died in 2016," you snap, but the banter feels more like a lifeline now, a way to distract yourself from the intensity of his gaze.

The corner of his mouth lifts, cocky and infuriating. "Touché."

You inhale sharply, your hands trembling slightly as you grip the toy.

You hate how your body reacts to him, how his voice, his laugh, his everything gets under your skin like this.

Carlos leans forward again, his smirk all-knowing. "Having fun yet?"

Your pride makes you glare at him. “Fuck you.”

His laugh is low, indulgent, the sound curling around you like smoke. "Soon, sweetheart. Very soon."

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” he fires back smoothly, his eyes gleaming with wicked intent.

His voice drops to a growl. "But you won’t, will you? You’ll do exactly what I say because you love being told what to do. Makes you wet just thinking about it, doesn’t it?"

Your lips part, but the sharp retort you’re trying to form dies as his gaze drops to your hands.

His smirk fades, replaced by a hunger so fierce it leaves you breathless.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice rich with satisfaction.

The unexpected praise sends a rush of heat straight to your core. "Keep going. Let me see you do it."

Your fingers tremble as you continue spreading lube on the length of the toy, the silicone cool against your skin.

“Fuck,” Carlos breathes, his hand tightening around his cock. “Look at you, already so obedient. Knew you’d listen.”

He shifts slightly, his voice softening. “Now, spread those legs for me. Show me how wet you are. I want to see that pretty pussy you’ve been thinking about me filling.”

Your thighs part, the cool air brushing against your slick heat as you settle back against the pillows.

His sharp inhale through the speakers sends a jolt straight to your core.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice strained.

His hand pauses on his cock as he drinks in the sight of you, dark eyes dragging over every inch of exposed skin. "You’re so fucking perfect. Do you even realize how bad I want to bury myself in you right now?"

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, the heat spreading from your cheeks to your chest as the ache between your thighs sharpens with every passing second of his unrelenting stare.

Slowly, you drag the toy through your folds, the soft, slick sound of your arousal breaking the tense silence.

It’s obscene, the way the wetness clings, glistening on the head of the silicone.

Your arousal drips along your thighs, the skin glistening under the low light and you can feel how messy you’ve become, how utterly soaked you are.

"Oh, sweetheart," he rasps, his eyes fixed on the toy and the way it slides against your swollen folds. "That's it. Get it nice and wet for me. I want to see just how desperate you are to take it."

Your fingers tremble as you position the toy at your entrance, the blunt tip pressing against your slick heat. You hesitate, glancing up at him through the screen.

“Carlos…”

“Go on, baby,” he urges, his tone soft but insistent. “Don’t make me wait. I want to see you take it.”

You bite your lip, a soft whine escaping as you slide the tip between your folds again. His gaze darkens, his strokes faltering as he watches you hover above it.

The moment the dildo breaches the first ring of muscles, your head falls back with a moan that’s nothing short of sinful.

Carlos’s eyes burn through the screen, dark and wild, his fist sliding steadily up and down his cock as he watches you begin to move.

“Fuck, baby, look at you,” he groans, his voice rough and needy. “You’re so fucking tight. That little pussy is made for me, isn’t it?”

You whimper, your hips starting to bounce, your slick heat making it easier to slide up and down. The toy stretches you so perfectly, but it’s his words that send fire shooting through your veins.

“Yes,” you gasp, gripping the bed to keep your balance. “It’s yours, Carlos. Always yours.”

“Damn right it is,” he growls, stroking himself faster. “You'd rather have me inside you, stretching you out, making you scream my name, hm? Doesn't matter if it's a mold from my cock. Still can't compare, yeah?”

Your hips jerk at his filthy words, and you pick up the pace, grinding down harder until the toy presses right against that spot that makes you see stars.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice dripping with dominance. “Say how much you want my cock, baby. Tell me what you miss.”

“I miss you,” you cry out, each bounce making your voice tremble. “Miss the way you fill me up, how fucking deep you get- oh god, Carlos-”

“That’s my girl,” he groans, his jaw tightening as he watches the way your body moves, the slick sounds of the dildo sliding in and out of you driving him insane.

“You’d take me so good, wouldn’t you? Let me fuck you until you can’t even think, until you’re dripping all over my cock.”

“Please,” you whine, your fingers digging into the sheets as the pleasure builds, your body tightening around the toy with every bounce. “I need it. Need you to fuck me, Carlos. Need to feel you come inside me-”

“Shit,” he growls, his hips jerking up into his hand. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Feeling me stretch you open, filling you so full you’d still be dripping with me the next day.”

Your head is spinning, the combination of his words and the relentless drag of the dildo inside you sending you spiraling closer to the edge.

“You’d let me do whatever I want, wouldn’t you?” His voice is a low, dirty rasp now, his strokes frantic as he chases his release. “You’d let me bend you over, fuck you on every surface in the house, make you come over and over until you’re begging me to stop.”

You nod desperately.

“Go faster, baby” Carlos murmurs, his voice low and rough.

You whimper, obeying.

Each downward motion stretches you all over again, and the fullness makes your eyes flutter shut as a moan spills from your lips.

Carlos’s growl cuts through the speakers, low and rough. “You look so pretty fucking yourself on it like that.”

You lift yourself just enough for the toy to drag along your walls, the friction igniting sparks of pleasure that ripple through you.

When you sink back down, the stretch feels even deeper. Your thighs tremble, your pace picking up as the need builds inside you.

“Fuck,” Carlos groans. “Your tits are bouncing so perfectly. Keep going, baby, let me see them move while you ride it.”

Your breasts sway with each bounce, the motion only adding to the heat pooling low in your belly.

The way his eyes lock onto you, dark, hungry, devouring, makes your nipples pebble, the cool air only amplifying the sensation.

“You look so fucking good,” Carlos murmurs, half mindless, his strokes on his cock quickening as he watches you. “Look at how deep it’s stretching you. Look at the way your tits bounce every time you take it. Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

You can’t stop now, the pleasure too much to ignore.

Your hips grind down harder, rolling in small circles as you press yourself against the base of the toy.

Each motion sends shocks of ecstasy through you, your slick heat gripping the silicone like you never want it to leave.

“Bounce on it harder,” he says.

Your hands grip the sheets tightly as you obey, your hips lifting and dropping with more urgency.

The wet, obscene sound of the toy sliding in and out of you fills the room, mixing with your soft gasps and moans. Your breasts bounce with every movement, and you feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.

“Baby,” Carlos groans, his fist tightening around his cock as he watches you ride the toy. “You’re so fucking perfect. You’d ride me just like that, wouldn’t you? Taking every inch, letting me stretch you open until you can’t handle it.”

Your breath catches, your body arching as you grind down harder, the toy hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. “Carlos,” you gasp, your voice trembling. “It feels so good- so fucking full-”

“That’s it,” he growls, his strokes turning frantic as he watches you lose yourself. “Take it all, baby. Keep bouncing. I want to see you come while you’re stretched out like that.”

“Yes,” you gasp, your body trembling as you grind harder, your cries turning into broken moans. “Carlos, I’m- fuck, I’m gonna come-”

“Do it,” he growls, his eyes locked on you, his voice pure command. “Come for me, baby. I want to see it. Show me how fucking good I make you feel.”

Your body shatters at his words, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your walls clench around the toy, your cries spilling out uncontrollably as pleasure courses through you.

“Fucking hell,” Carlos groans, his own release hitting him hard as he watches you fall apart. His hand jerks wildly as he spills over himself, his groans mixing with your whimpers through the screen.

As you both come down, the air is thick and charged, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all. Carlos grins at you, looking like the devil himself, his chest still heaving.

“Pretty girl.”

—-

Carlos’s phone is propped up against his water bottle, the screen showing you on the other end of the line as the two of you talk over lunch.

He’s at a small café near the gym, picking at a plate of grilled chicken and rice while you sit on the terrace of a restaurant somewhere near the Monaco Marina.

He can’t tell which restaurant exactly, but it doesn’t matter. He’s too focused on the way the sunlight catches in your hair, how you’re picking at a croissant with absentminded precision.

“So, wait,” you say, mid-bite. “You’re telling me you thought you could just wing the French?”

Carlos grins, popping a spoonful into his mouth. “I did wing it. The waiter understood me perfectly.”

“Sure,” you deadpan. “Because pointing at the menu is such a skill.”

He chuckles, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “Why complicate things? A man’s gotta eat.”

You shake your head, your exasperation half-hearted at best. “You’re hopeless.”

“Worked, didn't it?” he counters smoothly, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

You roll your eyes but don’t argue, which feels like a victory.

For a moment, the conversation drifts to lighter topics.

Where you’d want to travel next, the chaos of his morning workout, and whether or not croissants count as dessert.

It’s easy, effortless, the kind of back-and-forth that feels like second nature.

But then you glance down, suddenly fidgeting with your sleeve, and Carlos picks up on the shift immediately.

“What’s that face?” he asks, leaning forward, curiosity laced in his tone.

You pause, debating, then sigh. “Can I tell my friends about this?”

Carlos blinks. “This?”

“Us,” you say, casually, but the word lands heavier than you probably realize.

He freezes for a split second, his mind stalling like a rookie stalling a car on the grid.

Us.

You don't mean it in the way that’s currently making his chest feel too tight, but it doesn’t stop the word from echoing in his head.

You take another bite of your croissant like you haven’t just derailed his entire thought process.

“Legally? No.” he says, recovering with a smirk. “You’re under NDA. You can’t even mention I exist.”

Your eyes narrow. “Carlos, no one cares that much about you.”

“Ouch,” he says, clutching his chest dramatically.

You shake your head, your expression flat. “Be serious. Is it okay or not?”

He leans back, draping an arm over his chair and studying you with an unreadable expression.

The truth is, he should say no. He should remind you how much he values his privacy, how careful he has to be.

But the thought of you talking about him, to your friends, no less, makes him feel... proud. Like he’s somehow made it onto a list of people who matter to you.

“Yeah,” he says finally, his voice casual. “Go ahead.”

“Really?”

“Why not?”

You narrow your eyes, clearly suspicious. “You’re not going to show up at my door with legal threats if I say something stupid?”

“Not unless it’s really stupid,” he teases.

Your unimpressed stare makes him grin wider. “You’re annoying,” you mutter, but your tone lacks any real bite.

“You love me though,” he counters easily.

He watches as your face softens, just for a moment, and something about it makes his heart stutter in a way he’d never admit.

“You’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head.

“And you like it,” he fires back, his voice light, though there’s a trace of sincerity underneath it.

The conversation shifts again, and by the time you glance at your watch, he’s already dreading the inevitable.

“I should go,” you say, reaching for your coffee cup.

“Busy?”

“Not really,” you admit, but you’re already sitting straighter, ready to leave.

Carlos hesitates, leaning forward slightly. “Hey.”

You pause, looking up at him expectantly.

“Call me again tomorrow,” he says, softer this time.

Your brow lifts, a flicker of curiosity crossing your face. “Why?”

He shrugs, fighting the grin threatening to take over. “I like hearing your voice.”

For a moment, you just stare at him, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, you’re about to call him out on it.

But then you roll your eyes, hiding a smile that he doesn’t miss.

“Goodbye, Carlos,” you say, shaking your head as you reach for the screen.

The call ends, and Carlos sits back in his chair, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he stares at the now-empty screen.

Us.

—-

It’s the bimonthly girlfriend meet-up, and Kika’s already locked onto you like a heat-seeking missile.

“So, there’s this guy,” you say casually, swirling your wine like this isn’t about to become the most chaotic conversation of your week.

Her brow arches, her smirk appearing like she’s just been handed premium-grade gossip.

“Oh?” she says, leaning in.

“Yes,” you reply, taking a slow sip from your glass, because wine is courage, and you need a lot of it right now.

“Tell me more,” she says, her tone deceptively sweet, like a predator coaxing its prey closer.

You hesitate. There’s no way you’re telling her the guy in question is Carlos Sainz.

That would be insane. Absolutely unhinged.

One, because it’s Carlos Sainz.

Two, because it’s Carlos fucking Sainz.

“We’ve been… hooking up,” you say vaguely, hoping to skate by with minimal detail.

Kika narrows her eyes. “Hooking up? Where? I haven’t seen you at the club scene lately, and I definitely haven’t heard from Charles about you sneaking out.”

You blink at her. “Why would Charles know- wait. Are you spying on me?”

“No,” she says breezily, waving a hand. “But Charles knows everything about you. If you were sneaking around Monaco with a guy, I’d know by now.”

Kika tilts her head, studying you. “So if it’s not a local guy…”

She pauses. Then her eyes widen. “Oh my God. Is it a long-distance thing? Is this why you’ve been all ‘mysterious vibes’ lately?”

You sigh, realizing you’re caught. “It’s phone sex, okay?”

Kika blinks. “Phone sex?”

“Yes,” you say, downing the rest of your wine in one gulp. “We’re doing… phone stuff.”

She hums, sitting back, her gaze calculating. “It’s a famous guy, isn’t it?”

“What?!” you sputter. “How did you- why would you even-”

“Ma’am, look at you.” She gestures at you like you’re an exhibit at the Louvre. “You’re gorgeous. You’re you. Why would you ever settle for phone sex unless it’s, like, some Vogue model or an A-lister who’s too busy jet-setting to see you in person?”

“That’s ridiculous,” you say, trying to laugh her off, but it sounds more like a dying animal.

Her grin turns absolutely wicked, the kind of wicked that makes you instantly regret ever letting her into your life. “Oh, so it is a famous guy. You just gave yourself away. Who is it? Spill.”

“I did not!” you protest, but it’s weak. Too weak.

Kika hums, tapping a finger on her chin as she tilts her head. “Hmm. Let me think. Is it an actor? A musician? Oh my God, is it Harry Styles? Blink once for yes.”

“Kika-”

“Wait!” She gasps, cutting you off and slapping the table. “Is it a prince? Are you pulling a Meghan Markle? Are we about to be royalty by proxy?”

“Kika!” you hiss, glaring at her as a nearby table turns to look at the commotion.

“Okay, okay, fine. I'll behave.”

“But,” she adds, holding up a finger and wagging it at you, “you can’t just stop there. I want details. Stories. Anecdotes. What have you two done other than, like, phone sex? That can’t be it, right? Kick it up a notch. Spice things up.”

Your face burns, and you take a long, slow sip of your drink, desperately trying to buy time. “We… talk.”

Kika stares at you, unimpressed. “Talk? Oh, please. You’re telling me a man calls you up just to talk?”

You shrug, feigning innocence. “Sometimes.”

Her grin turns sharper. “And the other times?”

You look away, pretending to be fascinated by the texture of the tablecloth.

“Oh no,” she says, leaning in like a predator cornering its prey. “You’re not getting out of this. What does he say? What does he do? Don’t make me guess because I will make it a thousand times worse.”

You groan, your head falling into your hands. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I care about you,” she says sweetly, patting your hand before grinning again. “Now spill. What’s the wildest thing he’s done so far? Flown you out to a private island? Sent you a love letter written in champagne? What are we working with here?”

You hesitate. You know telling her anything will only fuel her chaos, but at this point, it feels like you don’t have a choice.

“Fine,” you mumble. “He, um… he sent me a… package.”

You take a long sip of your wine, trying to ignore Kika’s razor-sharp gaze burning into the side of your face.

You shouldn’t have said anything. You really shouldn’t have.

But it’s too late now.

“He sent me a dildo shaped like his cock,” you mutter under your breath, so fast you almost hope she didn’t hear you.

Kika chokes on her wine. Full-on chokes. She’s sputtering, clutching her chest as her eyes go wide.

Meanwhile, you calmly sip your drink, staring at some random painting on the wall like it’s the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen.

“WHAT?!” she finally manages, her voice about three octaves higher than usual.

“I’m not saying it again,” you reply coolly, refusing to meet her gaze.

“He sent you a-” she starts, and then bursts into laughter so loud half the restaurant turns to look at your table.

You shoot her a glare, shushing her. “Could you not announce it to the entire world?”

“Oh my God,” she wheezes, clutching her stomach. “Mr. Mystery sent you a dildo shaped like his cock?!”

You take another sip of wine, your cheeks burning. “It was… thoughtful.”

“THOUGHTFUL?!” she howls. “He’s out here like, ‘What’s a practical gift? Ah, yes, my dick!’”

“It’s not a big deal,” you mumble into your hands, praying the floor will swallow you whole.

“Not a big- ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” She’s laughing so hard she can barely breathe.

“Kika,” you hiss, kicking her under the table.

“That’s so romantic,” she says, ignoring you entirely. “Forget flowers. Forget jewelry. Nothing says love like, ‘Here’s my dick. In case you miss me.’”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Are you kidding? This is the best thing you’ve ever told me,” she says, still grinning like a lunatic.

She leans forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Do you… do you keep it on your nightstand? Like, right next to your lamp? Is it displayed like a trophy? Maybe on one of those little velvet stands?”

“Kika!” you hiss, glancing around the café as if someone might overhear this absolute chaos.

Her laughter crescendos, attracting a few curious stares from nearby tables. She waves them off with a flick of her wrist, too far gone to care.

“No, seriously, I need to know. Oh God, imagine if you lose it. Like, it’s just missing one day and you’re crawling around under your couch yelling, ‘Mr. Mystery, where’s your dick?!’”

You groan, your head dropping into your hands. “Can you be serious for one second?”

She sucks in a breath, fanning herself like she’s about to faint. “Okay, okay. Serious. Totally serious. I’m done. Promise.”

You peek at her through your fingers, skeptical. “You sure?”

She nods, biting her lip to stifle another laugh. “Totally. Except… I have one more question.”

You lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling like it might grant you patience. “What now?”

She leans in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Is it… accurate?”

You freeze, horrified. “I’m leaving.”

“No, wait!” she cries, grabbing your arm before you can stand. She’s laughing again, her grip on your sleeve shaking with the force of it. “Come on, I’m kidding! Mostly. But seriously. Is it accurate? Like, should we call MythBusters?”

You gape at her, flabbergasted. “Why would I answer that?”

“Because I’m dying to know!” she says, eyes gleaming.

You shake her off and reach for your bag. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re avoiding the question,” she fires back, wagging a finger at you like a smug prosecutor. “Which makes me think it’s very accurate.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re lucky I haven’t thrown this glass of wine at you.”

“Please,” she scoffs, twirling her straw. “You’d never waste good wine. Now, answer me. Did he measure it himself, or do you think there was a mold involved? Like, did he sit there in some science lab with a team of experts, being all, ‘Make sure you get the angle right!’?”

“Oh my God,” you groan, covering your face again.

The two of you quiet down as a waiter approaches your little corner.

It’s quiet for a moment—mercifully quiet.

Kika is vibrating with barely restrained laughter, and you’re praying she doesn’t lose it while he’s standing there.

The waiter sets down your plates, refills your glasses, and gives Kika a quick, confused glance because she’s shaking like a malfunctioning washing machine.

You smile at him—tight, polite, please don’t ask questions, I beg you—and he wisely scurries off.

The second he’s out of earshot, Kika slams her hands on the table, rattling the cutlery. “Let me see it.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva. “What?! No!”

“Why not?” she demands, like this is a perfectly reasonable request.

“Why not? Because we’re in a crowded restaurant, that’s why!” you hiss, clutching your purse like it’s a medieval chastity belt.

She leans forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “So you’re saying there’s a non-crowded situation where you’d show me?”

“That’s not what I said!”

She smirks. “Sure, but you didn’t not say it.”

“Kika, I swear to God-”

“Just one peek,” she pleads, like she’s asking for a bite of your dessert. “Under the table. No one will even notice!”

“Under the- what are you, a contraband dealer?” you whisper-yell. “This is not a shady back-alley dildo exchange!”

She grins, undeterred. “So, what does it look like? Is it… metallic?”

You freeze. “Why would it be metallic?!”

“I don’t know! Maybe it’s fancy. Maybe it’s, like, a collector’s item.”

“It’s not a lightsaber, Kika!”

She gasps, her hand flying to her chest. “Oh my God. Does it light up?!”

“No!”

“Are you sure?” she presses, narrowing her eyes. “Maybe it has LEDs. You know, for… ambiance.”

—

Kika’s obsession with the whole thing also refuses to let up. She knows, and worse, she loves knowing.

It starts small: innocent comments here and there, teasing questions she doesn’t expect you to answer.

But over time, her nosiness evolves into full-blown meddling. She’s not just curious. She’s invested.

And one day, it all comes to a head.

Kika cracks.

Or rather, her big mouth does.

“This is too good,” she hisses over the phone like she’s smuggling state secrets. “I can’t keep it to myself any longer.”

You drop your sandwich mid-bite, the mayo squelching onto the table. “What the hell do you mean you can’t keep it to yourself?”

“This secret,” she says, as if it’s physically weighing her down. “It’s eating me alive. I can’t keep it anymore.”

You groan. “Kika, we’ve talked about this. It’s not your secret to keep.”

“Which is exactly why I need to tell someone!” she snaps, like that’s a logical leap. “It’s not mine! It’s yours! I’m just... borrowing it, and now I’m returning it to the universe.”

“That’s not how secrets work,” you deadpan, rubbing your temples.

“I need to tell someone! Please, let me tell Alex,” she begs, her voice desperate, like she’s asking for kidney donation approval.

You choke. You actually choke, sputtering on your words like a broken engine. “Are you insane? Have you lost what little is left of your mind?”

“She’s so cool! She won’t tell anyone, I swear.” Kika’s tone is sunny, like she’s campaigning for Alex to win Best Confidant of the Year. “She loves secrets! She’s a vault!”

“She’s my brother’s girlfriend! My. Brother’s. Girlfriend.” You emphasize each word like you’re explaining calculus to a toddler.

“And a great secret keeper regardless of who she’s dating!” She chirps, undeterred.

“She’s dating my brother,” you hiss, as if saying it will drive the point home in her thick skull, pacing across your room like a caged animal. “Do you not see the problem here?”

“I see no problem,” she says brightly. “Alex is the Fort Knox of secrets. She’ll take this to her grave.”

“She’ll take it to my brother,” you counter, jabbing the air with your finger even though she can’t see you. “And then my brother will take it to my mom, and then my mom will take it to church, and next thing you know, I’m being exorcised for sins of the phone!”

Kika laughs, the kind of laugh that means she’s not taking you seriously at all. “Don’t be dramatic. Your mom would faint.”

“Kika!” you hiss, lowering your voice even though no one else is in the room. “If you tell her, I swear to God, I’ll... I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Call Mr. Mystery and complain about me?” Her grin is practically audible.

“Yes, and he’ll agree with me!” you snap, clutching your phone so tightly it’s a miracle it doesn’t crack. “Because this is not a group project!”

“Okay, okay!” She gasps, wheezing like she just finished a marathon. “I won’t tell her! I swear!”

You pause, narrowing your eyes even though she can’t see you. “Wait. Really?”

“No,” she says flatly, so matter-of-fact you feel your brain short-circuit. “I’m absolutely telling her. She’s going to lose her mind.”

You let out a shriek so loud your upstairs neighbor thumps on the floor in retaliation. “Kika, if you even breathe a word”

“Just picture it!” she interrupts, steamrolling over your protest. You can hear her bouncing on her bed. “I’ll text her right now. Something casual, like, ‘Hey Alex, you’re never going to believe-’”

“Fine!” you snap, throwing yourself onto the bed so hard the mattress squeaks in protest. “Fine, just tell her! But we do it in the next meet-up! I have to be present to keep your unruly mouth shut!”

Kika lets out an unholy squeal, the kind that makes dogs two blocks over start barking. You yank the phone away from your ear, grimacing.

“This is the best day of my life,” she announces, and you can practically hear her smirk.

“This is the worst day of mine,” you counter, dragging a pillow over your face and screaming into it.

“Relax,” she says breezily. You hear the telltale sound of typing. “Alex is going to eat this up. She loves a little drama.”

You lower the pillow just enough to breathe. “This isn’t drama. This is my life unraveling because you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Oh, please. You’re being dramatic,” she says, her tone so casual you almost throw your phone across the room. “It’s not like we're sending the story to Charles. That would be a scandal.”

You sit bolt upright. “Kika, I swear to all that is holy, if this gets back to him-”

“It won’t!” she chirps. “Unless Alex tells him. But she won’t. Probably.”

“Probably?!” Your voice cracks, and you claw at your scalp like you’re trying to yank out the stress by the roots.

“She’s trustworthy! You trust her, right?” Kika says, still typing away.

“No! I don’t trust anyone!” you shout, rolling onto your stomach and pounding your fists into the mattress. “Least of all you!”

Kika laughs so hard she starts coughing. “Oh, you’ll thank me for this one day,” she chokes out between wheezes.

“Unlikely,” you mutter.

“Anyway, gotta go! I’ll let you know if Alex is available next week,” Kika says brightly, and then the call ends before you can respond.

You stare at your phone in silence, a deep sense of dread pooling in your stomach.

Mistakes were made. By you. Specifically by trusting Kika with anything.

—

The restaurant is stupidly fancy, the kind of place where the bread basket comes with a backstory and the waiters judge you if you butter too enthusiastically.

You sit on the terrace, the Mediterranean sparkling behind you like a postcard that refuses to let you forget how expensive everything is.

Your table has a perfect view of the marina, where billionaires are essentially playing a game of “whose yacht is bigger.”

Not that you’re paying attention.

Alex and Kika are too busy ruining your life for you to focus on anything else.

Alex is halfway through her sea bass when you drop the bomb.

She freezes, her knife poised mid-cut, before her hand falls to the table.

Her fork clatters onto the porcelain plate, loud enough to make a few patrons turn their heads.

You wince, sinking lower in your chair.

Across from you, Kika sips her champagne, completely unbothered. She smirks, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“You’re kidding,” Alex says, eyes wide with disbelief.

Kika doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, she’s not kidding,” she says, swirling her glass lazily. “She’s dead serious.”

You squirm under Alex’s gaze, picking at your lobster ravioli like it might swallow you whole if you wish hard enough. “It’s not a big deal,” you mumble.

Alex snorts, an uncharacteristically undignified sound for someone who normally looks like she belongs on the cover of Vogue.

“Not a big deal?” she repeats, her voice rising just enough to make you glance nervously at the tables around you.

“Shut it. People are going to hear,” you hiss.

“Oh, darling,” Kika cuts in, her grin widening. “If people heard, they’d ask for more details. Probably start taking notes.”

Alex ignores her, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table, etiquette be damned.

“You’re telling me you’ve been having phone sex with some elite celebrity and it’s ‘not a big deal?’”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Can we not call it that?”

“What would you prefer?” Kika asks, her eyes practically sparkling. “Verbal intimacy? Oral storytelling?”

“I hate you both,” you mutter.

Alex waves her off, laser-focused on you. “And the… gift?” she asks, voice dripping with disbelief. “Are we glossing over the fact that he sent you a dildo?”

“It was thoughtful,” Kika offers, deadpan, before taking another sip of champagne.

“Stop helping,” you snap at her.

“I mean, really,” Alex continues, ignoring the interruption. “The man is rich, probably gorgeous to somehow convince you to give him a chance, could maybe have anyone he wants- and he’s doing phone sex with you?”

You glare at her. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You know what I mean,” she says, brushing off your sarcasm. “Why would he go through all this effort unless-” She stops, her eyes narrowing slightly like she’s just cracked the Da Vinci Code.

“Oh my God.”

“What?” you ask, already dreading whatever is coming next.

“That man is in love with you,” Alex declares, her tone final, like she’s just announced a royal decree.

You choke on air, coughing so violently that Kika reaches over to thump your back, more amused than concerned. “He is not in love with me!” you wheeze.

“He absolutely is,” Alex insists, sitting back and crossing her arms.

“That’s a huge leap,” you argue, waving your hands in front of you. “How do you get ‘in love’ from… from phone sex and-” You gesture vaguely. “Other things?”

Alex doesn’t blink. “He’s a famous athlete, right?”

“Sure,” you say, narrowing your eyes. “So?”

“So,” she says, leaning forward, “he’s settling for phone sex instead of hooking up with someone in person? That doesn’t happen unless he’s in love.”

“It’s not settling!” you argue, flailing slightly. “It’s convenient! We have an NDA; it’s low effort!”

“Low effort?” Alex raises an eyebrow. “More low effort than walking into a club and taking his pick of willing women?”

“Well… yeah!”

Kika cackles, nearly spilling her drink. “Oh, babe. You really think you’re less effort? That’s adorable.”

You glare at her, but Alex presses on, relentless. “Does he do this with anyone else?”

“How would I know that?” you snap.

“Ask him,” Alex says simply, like it’s the most obvious solution in the world.

“Absolutely not!”

“Oh, come on,” Kika says, grinning. “Just casually drop it into conversation. ‘Hey, Mr. Mystery, quick question: am I your only long-distance dirty talk partner, or is this a group activity?’”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I’m not asking him that.”

“Why not?” Alex demands, cutting into her sea bass like this conversation isn’t actively ruining your life. “If it’s no big deal, he won’t mind. And if he does mind, well…” She trails off, her smirk infuriatingly smug.

“Then you’ll know he’s in love with you!” Kika chimes in, practically bouncing in her seat.

“Or he’ll think I’m insane,” you shoot back.

Alex shrugs, entirely unbothered. “Either way, it’s good information to have.”

You sit back in your chair, glaring at the two of them as they sip their champagne like this is the most entertaining lunch they’ve ever had.

“You two are the worst,” you mutter.

Kika raises her glass in a mock toast. “To Mr. Mystery and his poor, emotionally repressed heart.”

Alex clinks her glass against Kika’s with a soft laugh. “And to you,” she adds, “the object of his inconvenient affections.”

You consider grabbing their glasses and chucking them into the marina, but that would only prove their point.

Instead, you stab your ravioli with far more force than necessary, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks.

Mistakes. So many mistakes.

—

You can’t stop thinking about it.

Carlos. In love with you.

The concept is so utterly ridiculous you actually laugh to yourself, out loud, like a complete maniac.

Because Carlos isn’t in love with you.

That’s not how this works. Carlos doesn’t do “love.” Carlos doesn’t do you.

Well, okay, he does you in certain… contexts, but that’s beside the point.

The point is, Carlos is like a human golden retriever with too much charm for his own good.

He’s nice to everyone. He flirts with everyone. He probably gives everyone those stupid lingering looks that make your knees go weak.

He doesn’t fall in love. And if he did, it sure as hell wouldn’t be with you.

But the thought won’t leave your brain. It’s set up camp there, pitching a tent and roasting marshmallows over the fire of your own self-doubt.

And then the photo happens.

It’s a normal day.

Quiet. Peaceful, even.

You’re in bed scrolling through your phone, feeling pretty good about life.

You’ve got coffee on the nightstand, a blanket wrapped around you, and a vague sense of superiority because you haven’t thought about Carlos in at least six hours.

Then his face pops up on your feed.

Carlos, golden and gorgeous, lounging on a yacht like he’s auditioning for a Bond movie. He’s shirtless, of course. Because of course he is. The sun catches in his hair, and his jawline looks so sharp it could cut glass.

You don’t even blink.

You’re too used to this by now. This is just Carlos being Carlos.

But then you see her.

The girl.

She’s pressed up against him, all long legs and glossy hair and perfect teeth. She’s laughing, her hand resting casually, possessively, on his chest like it’s hers to touch.

Your stomach does something horrifying, like it’s trying to fold in on itself.

It’s fine, you tell yourself. This is normal. Carlos is always surrounded by beautiful women. This means nothing.

But the way he’s looking at her…

You throw your phone across the bed like it just personally insulted you.

Then you lie back and stare at the ceiling, trying to convince yourself you’re not spiraling.

Spoiler alert: you’re totally spiraling.

Which is how you end up calling Kika and Alex.

Because misery loves company, and also because you’re desperate for someone to tell you you’re not crazy.

“Hello?” Kika answers, far too cheerful for your current mood.

“I need help,” you blurt out.

“What kind of help?” she asks cautiously.

“Emotional help,” you say dramatically. “I’m having an existential crisis.”

“Of course you are,” she says. “Hang on, I’m adding Alex.”

“No, don’t-”

Too late. Alex’s voice cuts in, already exasperated. “What happened now?”

“He posted a photo,” you mumble, already regretting this.

“Okay…” Alex says slowly. “And?”

“And there was a girl in it,” you say, your voice climbing an octave.

“Oh my God,” Kika groans.

Alex sighs. “Let me guess. Hot girl, hand on his chest, looking like she just stepped out of a magazine?”

“Exactly!” you exclaim, sitting up. “How do you always know?”

“Because this happens every time,” he says dryly. “It’s cliche at this point. You're a walking cliche.”

You whine. “He looked… happy.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kika asks, “Are you drunk?”

“No!”

“Okay, just checking,” she says. “Because you sound drunk. Or insane. Possibly both.”

“I’m being serious!” you say, flopping back onto the bed. “What if he actually likes her?”

“Then he’s an idiot,” Alex says without hesitation.

“You don’t even know who she is!”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “No one’s better than you.”

You groan. “That’s not helpful.”

“Look,” Kika cuts in, her tone gentler now. “You’ve got two options. One, you ask him about it. Two, you do what you always do and overthink yourself into oblivion.”

“Three,” Alex adds, “you block him, move to a remote island, and live off coconuts for the rest of your life.”

“I hate both of you,” you mutter.

“No, you don’t,” Kika says sweetly. “Now, are you going to talk to him or not?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “What if I ask and he laughs at me? Or worse, what if he doesn’t care?”

“Then you’ll know,” Alex says simply.

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it?

Knowing.

Because right now, as painful as it is, not knowing still feels safer than finding out the truth.

“Thanks, guys,” you say finally.

“Anytime,” Kika says. “Now go stalk his Instagram and cry into your coffee like a normal person.”

“Bye,” you grumble, hanging up.

You stare at the ceiling for a long time after that, the ache in your chest refusing to fade.

—

So, you cut him off.

Not all at once, because that would be too obvious, and God forbid Carlos Sainz think you’re actually affected by anything he does.

No, you do it slowly, carefully, like easing out of a party you didn’t really want to attend in the first place.

At first, it’s just a delay in your replies. Not anything dramatic, just enough to make it seem like you’ve got better things to do than hang on his every word.

When he sends a text, you leave it unread for an hour. Maybe two.

(Okay, fine, sometimes you read it immediately and then stare at your phone for thirty minutes trying not to reply, but that’s beside the point.)

When you do respond, you keep it short. Curt, even. No emojis, no playful banter, just cold, functional sentences.

Carlos How’s your day going?

You Busy

Carlos Busy with what?

You Work

He doesn’t push, which is somehow worse.

You want him to notice, to ask what’s wrong, to demand answers you’re not prepared to give. But he doesn’t.

He just keeps texting you, the same way he always has, like nothing’s changed.

When he asks to call, you tell him you’re busy. Which is technically true, if “busy” includes reorganizing your spice rack and watching sad movies while eating ice cream straight out of the tub.

It’s not immediate, but it’s different.

The rhythm of your conversations shifts, the easy flow replaced by stilted exchanges that feel like wading through molasses.

The worst part is how much it hurts.

Because cutting him off isn’t supposed to hurt you. It’s supposed to make things better. Easier. Less messy.

But instead, you’re walking around like some tragic romantic hero, clutching your metaphorical wounds and waiting for someone to ask why you look so miserable.

You try to distract yourself.

You download a meditation app, but the soothing voice telling you to “release your tension” only makes you think about how Carlos used to tease you for clenching your jaw when you were stressed.

You go out with friends, laughing too loud and drinking too much, but every time your phone buzzes, you can’t stop yourself from hoping it’s him.

It usually is.

Carlos Did I do something

You Just busy

Carlos Are you mad at me

You No

You toss your phone onto the couch and stare at it like it’s personally betrayed you. He’s starting to notice, which is both validating and soul-crushing.

Because if he notices, then maybe, just maybe, he actually cares.

And if he actually cares, then maybe cutting him off isn’t the answer.

But then you remember the photo. The girl. The way he looked at her.

And you remind yourself that Carlos Sainz isn’t yours. He never was.

So you keep going.

You tell yourself it’ll get easier. That eventually, his texts will stop coming, and the ache in your chest will fade, and you’ll finally be free of whatever this is.

But for now, you’re just sad and tired and watching Pride & Prejudice for the third time this week, convincing yourself you’re Elizabeth Bennet and he’s Mr. Darcy, except there’s no grand declaration at the end.

There’s just silence.

—

It's one of those times where you answer Carlos' call so he doesn't think you're actively avoiding him.

You’re stretched out on your couch, half-listening as Carlos narrates the chaos of his day, his voice flitting between amusement and exaggerated frustration.

“…and then they tell me the setup’s wrong, again, so I had to sit there, listening to engineers argue for an hour. An hour! I’m telling you, I deserve a medal just for staying awake.”

“Tragic,” you reply, dry as ever. “Truly, you’re the unsung hero of motorsport.”

“Exactly!” he exclaims, his tone shifting as if you’ve validated some grand injustice. “Finally, someone understands.”

You hear the faint rustle of fabric, the soft creak of leather, and you know he’s probably leaning back in one of those expensive chairs he likes so much, the ones you tease him about.

It’s a scene you’ve imagined a thousand times—so familiar it borders on comforting.

“So,” he says, drawing out the word like he’s gearing up for something. “Guess where I am right now?”

“Let me think,” you say. “Some glamorous location with a ridiculous view and an overpriced minibar?”

“Close,” he says, and you can hear the grin tugging at his words. “I’m in Monaco.”

Your heart stumbles, just a little, just enough to be annoying, but you keep your voice casual. “Oh, the usual playground of the rich and famous. How very you.”

“Hey, it’s practically home,” he teases, and the warmth in his tone makes your stomach twist. “And speaking of home… aren’t you supposed to be here too? Isn’t that, like, the whole point of being Monegasque?”

You hesitate, just for a beat, but it’s long enough.

“…Wait,” he says, his voice sharpening with suspicion. “You’re not here, are you?”

“I’m in Italy,” you admit, aiming for breezy and landing somewhere closer to forced.

There’s a pause, the kind of silence that feels heavier than it should. “Italy?” he repeats, his voice carefully light, like he’s trying not to make something of it. “What are you doing there?”

“Just am,” you say, shrugging even though he can’t see it.

“Right,” he says slowly, and you can feel the weight of his thoughts pressing through the line.

He doesn’t push it, though, because Carlos is a lot of things, but he’s not the kind of person who asks questions he’s not ready to hear the answers to.

He shifts the conversation after that, steering it back to safer waters.

He tells you about a restaurant he tried, about the ridiculous amount of traffic on his way to the track.

You laugh in the right places, make snarky comments when it’s expected, and for a while, it feels almost normal.

But it’s not.

The photo lingers in the back of your mind like a ghost. Her hand on his chest, his easy grin, the effortless way they fit together.

You thought you could handle it. Thought you could keep things light and easy, pretend that the photo didn’t bother you, that you hadn’t spent an embarrassing amount of time dissecting every pixel like it held some kind of secret truth.

But now, sitting here, listening to him ramble on about his day like everything’s fine, you’re not so sure.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, breaking the flow of his own story. His voice is quieter now, more thoughtful. “You’ve been kind of… off lately. Is everything okay?”

Your breath catches, just for a second.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, too quickly.

There’s a pause, just long enough for you to know he doesn’t believe you.

But he doesn’t call you on it. He just hums softly, like he’s letting you have this one.

The conversation winds down after that. He says something about an early meeting, and you use it as an excuse to end the call.

—

Carlos has a suspicion you’re avoiding him.

Or maybe, just maybe, Charles Leclerc has turned into some kind of shadowy mastermind, meticulously coordinating Carlos’s travel schedule just so he can keep you two apart.

It’s ridiculous, sure, but how else do you explain it?

When Carlos is in Monaco, you’re in Italy. When he’s in Italy, you’re in Mallorca. When he’s in Mallorca, you’ve suddenly jetted off to Switzerland, of all places.

It’s like you’ve taken on the role of “Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?” with unsettling precision, a game he didn’t even know he was playing until now.

At first, he tried to laugh it off.

Told himself it was just bad timing, a string of coincidences that would eventually break in his favor.

But now? Now it feels deliberate. Calculated. And the worst part is, he knows you. Knows you well enough to feel the subtle shift in the air between you, like a storm quietly gathering on the horizon.

He’s tried to tell himself he’s overthinking it.

That you’ve just been busy, that your life doesn’t revolve around him and his schedule.

But the excuses are starting to ring hollow, even to his own ears.

The delayed responses to his texts. The way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes when he finally does manage to catch you available for a call.

And now, sitting alone in his Monaco apartment, his phone resting on the coffee table in front of him like a lifeline you’ve left dangling just out of reach, Carlos can’t shake the weight that’s settled in his chest.

You’re pulling away.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut, sudden and brutal.

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands running through his hair as he stares at the floor.

His heart feels heavy, tangled up in a mess of confusion and hurt and something he doesn’t want to name.

Why? That’s the question that keeps circling back.

Why are you doing this? Why now, when he feels like he’s finally starting to understand just how much you mean to him?

His mind races, replaying every interaction, every conversation, searching for the moment he might’ve pushed you away without realizing it.

Did he say something? Did he not say enough?

“Dios,” he mutters under his breath, his voice thick with frustration.

He doesn’t want to think it, doesn’t want to believe it, but the thought won’t leave him alone: maybe you’ve finally gotten tired of him.

The idea makes his chest ache, a dull, hollow pain that spreads until it feels like it’s consuming him.

He doesn’t want to lose you, doesn’t want to let go of the quiet moments, the shared laughs, the way you make him feel like he can just be for once.

But what can he do? He can’t force you to stay, can’t make you want him if you don’t.

He picks up his phone, his thumb hovering over your name in his messages and sends a message before he chickens out.

Carlos Where are you right now?

You Still hoping for that coffee date, huh?

Carlos Always

You …Paris

Carlos frowns at his phone, and you can almost hear the mental gears grinding in his head. Paris. Of course, it’s Paris. Because why wouldn’t it be?

Carlos Okay, I’m going there.

Your phone buzzes immediately, the boldness of his response catching you off guard.

You What?

You ARE YOU SERIOUS???

Carlos Yes.

You Carlos, you can’t just drop everything and fly to Paris.

Carlos Watch me.

You stare at your phone, torn between laughing and rolling your eyes. This is insane. You text him back, unsure if you want to be mad or amused.

You This is insane.

Carlos No, it’s determination.

You It’s bordering on stalker behavior.

Carlos Then stop running from me.

You I’m not running!

Carlos You’re in a different country every time I blink. Sounds like running.

You It’s called having a life.

Carlos A life that conveniently never overlaps with mine. Carlos Got it.

You Carlos, I swear to God if you actually come here

He doesn’t reply. The silence settles in, and you think that’s the end of it. Carlos is too sensible to drop everything and fly to Paris, right? Right?

Wrong.

Three hours later, you’re in your hotel room, scrolling through your phone while you regret the third croissant you scarfed down earlier, when you hear a knock at the door.

You frown, setting your phone down. You weren’t expecting anyone.

Another knock, this time more insistent.

Curious, you peek through the peephole. And there he is.

Carlos Sainz.

Standing in the hallway, casually leaning against the doorframe, holding a bouquet of flowers like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Your jaw drops.

You swing the door open before you can think better of it. “What are you doing here?”

Carlos shrugs, flowers in hand. “You said Paris.”

“That wasn’t an invitation!” you hiss, your eyes darting up and down the hallway as if expecting paparazzi to jump out from behind the elevator.

“Seemed like one to me,” he says, unfazed, like he’s the most logical person in the universe. “Besides, I brought flowers. That makes it okay.”

You stand there, staring at him, completely caught between laughing and slamming the door in his face. “This is… I don’t even have words.”

“‘Thank you’ works,” he suggests, stepping past you as if he has every right to be there, dropping onto the armchair with the ease of someone who’s been invited to stay.

“Excuse me-” you splutter, still holding the flowers, but too stunned to do anything with them.

Carlos stretches his legs out in front of him like he’s planning to stay a while. “Nice room. Cozy.”

“You can’t just-” You gesture wildly at him, still holding the flowers like they’re some kind of shield. “Carlos, this is insane!”

“What’s insane,” Carlos says, his voice slicing through the heavy silence, “is how hard you’ve been avoiding me.”

The words hit you like a sharp slap, cutting through the thin armor you’ve been clinging to.

You wince, his accusation landing squarely on the truth you’ve been trying so desperately to bury.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you say, but even as the words leave your mouth, they feel hollow.

A poor, pathetic attempt to cover up the obvious.

His eyes narrow. “Yes, you are,” he replies, his voice edged with a kind of raw frustration you’ve never heard from him before. “You’ve been avoiding me, pulling away like I’ve done something-”

He leans forward, his knuckles white from how hard he’s clenching them. “Did I do something? Tell me, please.”

You shake your head quickly, your chest tightening. “No, Carlos, you didn’t-”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice cracks, rising just enough to make you flinch. There’s a tremor in his tone, something that tells you this isn’t just frustration- it’s pain.

Your mind races, heart pounding against your ribcage like it’s trying to escape. You can’t look at him.

You can’t meet his eyes because you know what you’ll see there: vulnerability. A rawness you’re too afraid to face.

“I told you, I’m not avoiding you,” you say again, but your voice wavers. The lie cracks as it leaves your lips.

Carlos exhales sharply, a bitter, humorless laugh escaping him. “Really? That’s what you’re going with? You’re not avoiding me? Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell feels like you are.”

His voice lowers, softer now but no less piercing. “You’ve been ignoring my calls, dodging my texts. You won’t even look at me right now.”

He pauses, his voice dropping even further, his words so quiet they’re barely a whisper. “It’s like you’re disappearing right in front of me.”

“I’ve been busy,” you mumble weakly, knowing even as you say it how ridiculous it sounds.

“Busy,” he repeats, dragging the word out like it physically pains him to say it. “Right. Busy. Of course. That’s your excuse? That’s all you’ve got?”

You open your mouth to respond, but he steamrolls ahead, his voice rising in disbelief. “Do you think I’m stupid? Is that it? Like I haven’t noticed you pulling some kind of secret agent disappearing act every time I’m within a five-mile radius?”

“I’m not-”

“Oh, please!” he cuts you off, throwing his hands up dramatically. “When I was in Monaco, you were in Italy. When I was in Italy, you were in Mallorca. When I was in Mallorca, you went to Paris. I thought you cared about the planet!”

“I had a reason!” you defend weakly.

“Oh, sure. Let me guess. You were ‘busy.’” He uses air quotes this time, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Busy doing what? Hiding in the catacombs so I wouldn’t find you?”

“Carlos-”

“No, seriously! Are you Carmen Sandiego? Did you take on a secret job as an international spy and forget to tell me? Because at this point, that’s the only explanation that makes any sense!”

You can’t help it.

A small, nervous laugh escapes you, but it’s swallowed by the look he gives you, a mix of exasperation and something rawer, something vulnerable that wipes the humor from your face instantly.

“I’m serious,” he says, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. “Why are you doing this? What happened? Did I do something?”

“No!” you blurt out, the word rushing out of you like a reflex. “You didn’t do anything-”

“Then what?” he demands, stepping closer, his brows furrowed. “Why does it feel like every time I try to get close to you, you’re already halfway out the door? What is it? Did I say something? Did I forget something important? Did I-”

“Stop!” you snap, your voice louder than you intended, cutting him off mid-spiral. “You didn’t do anything, okay? It’s me!”

He freezes, his hands hovering in the air like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “What do you mean, it’s you?”

You take a deep, shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I can’t do this anymore, Carlos. I can’t keep pretending like this, like we, don’t mean more to me than it should.”

His brows knit together, confusion flashing across his face. “What are you talking about? What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m in love with you, okay?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them.

Your hands fly to your face, your voice shaking as you add, “Not as a joke. Not as a friend. Not in some ‘haha, Carlos is cute, what if’ kind of way. I’m in love with you, and it’s ruining me, and now I’ve said it, and- oh my God- I’m going to vomit-”

“Wait, what?” Carlos interrupts, his voice a mix of shock and something dangerously close to hope.

“You heard me!” you snap, your hands still covering your face as you pace in frantic little circles. “I’m in love with you, and now I’ve ruined everything, and you’re going to freak out and leave, and then I’ll have to fake my death and move to Antarctica and befriend a penguin colony-”

“Will you stop?” he cuts in, grabbing your arm to stop your pacing. “Just- stop for a second, okay?”

You yank your arm back instinctively, shaking your head. “No, I can’t stop! Because if I stop, I’m going to have to look at you, and if I look at you, I’m going to see the exact moment you decide this is too much, and you walk out of my life forever, and I’m not emotionally equipped for that-”

“Would you listen to me?” he shouts, his voice startling you into silence.

His hands fall to his sides, his eyes locking on yours with a desperate kind of intensity. “I’m not walking out of your life, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Jesus, do you really think so little of me?”

Your lip wobbles, your voice breaking. “You don’t get it. You’ll leave.”

He lets out a laugh. Sharp, exasperated, and a little unhinged. “I’m in love with you, you absolute idiot.”

You freeze. Your brain is refusing to process what he just said. “What?”

“I said I’m in love with you,” he repeats, louder this time, as if yelling the words will hammer them into your skull.

“Have been since the first night, I think. Do you honestly believe I’d fly halfway across the world, lose sleep, and spam you with dog pictures because I don’t love you?”

You stare at him, mouth agape. “You- what?”

“Yes!” he throws his hands up, pacing like he’s been holding this in for years and it’s physically painful to let it out. “God, how do you not see it? I thought I was being so obvious!”

Your brain is scrambling for any coherent thought, but instead, all you manage is: “Then who was that girl?”

Carlos blinks at you, mid-rant. “What girl?”

You fumble for your phone like you’ve been waiting for this exact moment to catch him red-handed.

Opening Instagram with trembling fingers, you shove the screen in his face, pointing at the offending photo. “This girl. The one on the yacht!”

He squints at the screen, then back at you, his brow furrowing.

“That’s my cousin, Marina.”

Your heart stops. “What?”

“My cousin,” he says again, slower this time, as though you might be hard of hearing. “She’s married to a guy named Tomás. I was literally holding her bag while she FaceTimed her kids.”

You gape at him, the ground beneath you threatening to swallow you whole. “Oh.”

Carlos stares at you, his mouth falling open. Then it clicks. “Oh my God. Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I wasn’t-”

“You were ghosting me because you thought I was on a yacht with my cousin?” he demands, his voice climbing into incredulous territory.

“It looked bad!” you squeak, the heat in your face making it impossible to look him in the eye. “I didn’t know she was your cousin! She was all- touchy!”

“She was showing me pictures of her dog!” he cries, like he can’t believe he’s having this conversation.

You clutch your head, feeling both humiliated and mildly hysterical. “I’m an idiot. I’m the biggest idiot alive.”

“No arguments there,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair, then fixing you with a look that’s somewhere between amused and exasperated. “You honestly thought I’d just…what? Post my side chick on Instagram for you to see?”

“I didn’t know what to think!” you snap, burying your face in your hands. “I panicked, okay? My brain spiraled!”

Carlos lets out a disbelieving laugh, pacing a tight circle like he’s trying to figure out how he got here. “So instead of asking me, you just…decided to ignore me? For weeks?”

“I said I panicked!” you groan, peeking at him through your fingers, mortified.

He stares at you for a beat, then pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath in Spanish. “You’re lucky I love you, you know that?”

Your heart lurches, but you’re still too mortified to fully process it. “You can’t possibly still love me after this.”

“Oh, I can,” he says dryly, crossing his arms. “But I’m definitely telling Marina about this. She’s going to think it’s hilarious.”

“No!” you cry, lunging forward and grabbing his arm. “Carlos, I swear to God, if you tell your cousin-”

He grins, all smug amusement now, his earlier frustration melting away. “I’ll think about keeping it a secret. On one condition.”

“What condition?” you ask warily.

“You stop ghosting me,” he says simply, his voice softening as his eyes meet yours. “And maybe…start trusting me a little more?”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of your own stupidity pressing down on you. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, looking at the floor. “I really messed this up.”

“Yeah, you did,” he agrees, but there’s no bite to his words. He tilts your chin up so you have no choice but to look at him. “But you can make it up to me. Dinner tomorrow?”

You nod, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at your lips. “Okay.”

“And for the record,” he adds, smirking, “if you ever ghost me again, I’m showing up with a mariachi band.”

You groan, shoving him lightly as he laughs, but you can’t help the warmth spreading through your chest. Somehow, against all odds, he’s still yours.

---

@lilorose25 @widow-cevans @mderby03 @zyklion @papichulomacy @irisesinthegarden @leclercdream @moonvr @ilovemeni @iamdedsthingz @shwnirwin @softhecreator @claimingharrystigertattoo @5sospenguinqueen @wadupppdylan-blog @waytooobsessedwithlife @weekendlusting

[hoshifighting]

Pls give me never-jealous nonchalant bf! woozi getting triggered over y/n complimenting some other flirty man's voice at a party so they ended up having bathroom fun. Pls pls pls

nonchalant bf!woozi getting jealous and fucking you in the club

PREVIEW: “you think his voice’s pretty, huh?” he growled against your mouth. “wait till i’m moaning in your ear. bet you won’t think about his voice then.” you swear you almost blacked out right there. WARNINGS: smut, explicit language, degradation, rage sex, dirty talk, jealousy, penetrative sex, jihoon moaning, body fluids (cum), a bit of after care,

you didn’t think twice when the bartender slid both drinks across the counter, his smile a little too wide and his voice dripping in that syrupy charm that bartenders seemed to have on tap. he’d just finished explaining the entire menu to you like you were clueless—which, okay, you kinda were, but you could’ve done without the unnecessary flirting. whatever. you were polite, thanked him, and took your drinks to find jihoon.

the second you slid his glass onto the sticky table, you mentioned it casually. “the bartender’s got a pretty voice,” you said, not even sparing him a glance as you adjusted your skirt.

jihoon’s shoulders went rigid under his thin-ass shirt, so translucent it might as well be a goddamn window. his jaw ticked, and his eyebrows furrowed in that way that screamed i’m not jealous, but i’m absolutely fucking jealous. you could see it so clearly, like a red-hot thermometer climbing from his sneakers to the tips of his ears.

you kept talking like nothing happened, but internally, you were screaming. this wasn’t new—jihoon getting all worked up was practically a bi-weekly event—but every time he let his emotions slip? it was game over for you.

“babe,” he cut you off sharp as he grabbed your wrist, his palm burning against your skin. before you could even register what was happening, he was weaving you through the crowd, dragging you along like a man on a mission. his grip softened slightly when he remembered your ridiculous high heels, but he didn’t stop until he’d hauled you into the dingy club bathroom.

the second the door slammed shut, his lips were on yours, hot and furious. he kissed like he was trying to brand you, his hands greedy as they gripped your waist, then slid down to squeeze your ass.

“you think his voice’s pretty, huh?” he growled against your mouth. “wait till i’m moaning in your ear. bet you won’t think about his voice then.” you swear you almost blacked out right there.

“babe—”

his hand tangled in your hair, tugging it harshly enough to make your head tilt back. “nah, don’t stop now. keep talkin’ about other guys while i’m right here.”

your lipstick was completely fucked, smeared all over your mouth and probably his too. his other hand found your chest, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. you were melting, your panties already a lost cause.

“you’re so fucking easy, one kiss, and you’re dripping, hm? bet you’d let me fuck you right here if i wanted.”

before you could even catch your breath, his thigh slid between yours, pressing right on your cunt, making the wet panties slide uncomfortably through your folds. his grip on your hips was firm grounding you down against him.

“ride it.” his voice cutting through the haze clouding your brain.

your head snapped up, eyes wide in disbelief.

jihoon almost laughed at your stunned expression, the corner of his mouth twitching, but his grip on your hair tightened, yanking your face closer to his. “did i fucking stutter?” he bit out, his eyes blazing. “i said, ride. it.”

a shaky breath escaped you as you tried to move, but the friction was almost nothing. his thigh was solid beneath you, unyielding, and the way he watched you like he was eating every little reaction, made you almost embarrassed.

“that’s it,” he encouraged, his hands gripping your waist to guide your movements. “show me how bad you want it.”

you whimpered, head falling against his shoulder, the dirty bathroom and the muffled bass of the club fading into the background. jihoon leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “you’re suck a needy whore. getting off on my thigh like a desperate little thing. bet you’re soakingmy jeans right now.”

you couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped, loud and shameless, and jihoon groaned, his grip tightening. “yeah, that’s it. don’t hold back now. let everyone hear who’s making you feel this good.”

your fingers tangled in his hair, desperate and trembling, tugging hard enough to make him hiss. his reaction was immediate—his hands shot up to grab your wrists, pinning them against the edge of the sink, his grip firm but not cruel.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled, his chest pressing hard against yours as you arched into him, helpless and needy.

“jihoon,” you whimpered, your voice cracking as your face scrunched, tears threatening to spill. “i—i can’t—”

he paused, his jaw clenching as his eyes searched your face. “you can’t what?”

your lip quivered, your breath hitching as you choked out, “i need you. so bad, jihoon, it hurts.”

his expression shifted, his grip on your wrists loosening just slightly as he turned you around, pressing your chest against the sink. his hand slid down your back, as he kicked your legs apart. the panties were roughly pulled to the side. “then stop fucking whining and take it.”

the first thrust was brutal, and you cried out, your hands flying to grip the edge of the sink as the tears finally spilled over as your pussy couldn't even clench with the sudden penetration, your ears getting stuffed. jihoon groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he set a punishing pace.

“crying already? don’t tell me it’s too much.”

you sobbed when your mind came back, he yanked your hair, pulling your head back so he could see your face in the mirror. he watched the tears stream down your cheeks. “so fucking pretty when you cry.”

“hoon—!”

his teeth scraped against your ear cartilage, adn he bit down just hard enough to make you whimper, and then he exhaled—a low, shaky sound that turned into a soft moan, right in your ear.

his grip on your hair faltered for half a second, his strength stuttering, but he didn’t let go. instead, his moans got louder, the pitch rising with every thrust. they weren’t loud, but they were wrecked, so wrecked—whiny and breathless, like he was struggling to keep himself together.

“taking me so good—ah—fuck.”

you were gone. your vision blurred, spiraling in and out as the alcohol and pure lust made your knees buckle. every single one of his whiny, broken ah-ah’s sent a fresh wave of heat through your belly, clenching so hard around him it felt like you might snap.

his lips brushed your ear again, warm and damp, and he groaned—this high-pitched, desperate sound that had you dripping, the slickness already making a mess of your thighs. your breathing was ragged, chest heaving against the sink, and your legs were barely holding you up. if it weren’t for jihoon’s insane strength—his arm locked tight around your waist—you would’ve collapsed already.

“jihoon—” you sobbed, your voice weak, breaking apart at the edges. “i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he growled, but then he moaned again, and it wasn’t just a sound. it was a melody—needy, and drawn out, his voice cracking in the middle like he couldn’t take it either.

you whimpered, your vision tunneling as the orgasm built, white-hot and relentless. your body trembled violently, your nails clawing at the edge of the sink.

“fuck, i can feel you,” he gasped, his voice strangled. “you’re so fucking close, aren’t you? you’re squeezing me so tight—shit—gonna come?”

and then he whined—the most broken, helpless sound you’d ever heard, right against your ear—and you completely fell apart. your body seized, a sob ripping from your throat as the orgasm crashed into your.

jihoon groaned, his voice cracking as he followed you, his thrusts erratic and desperate, his forehead pressed against your shoulder as he panted and moaned, completely destroyed by the way you fell apart for him.

cleaning up was almost comedic, if you weren’t both still reeling from the mess you’d made of each other. jihoon tried to reach for the shitty paper dispenser, one arm still holding your waist to keep you from sliding off the sink. your upper body was basically draped over the cold marble, your legs trembling so much you couldn’t stand without him.

“can you—shit—can you move?” his hand smoothed over your rumpled skirt, trying to fix it, but it was pointless.

you groaned, your cheek smushed against the your arm. “i literally can’t. my legs are fucking noodles.”

jihoon huffed a laugh, his breath still uneven. “guess you’ll just have to stay like that.”

someone knocked on the door, hard and impatient, and jihoon’s head snapped up, his brows furrowing. “occupied!” he barked, his voice sharp enough to make whoever it was pause. when the knocking didn’t stop, he rolled his eyes and snapped, “shut the fuck up! we’ll be out when we’re out.”

you let out a weak laugh, still sprawled over the sink. “god, you’re so aggressive.”

“yeah, well, they’re annoying...” he sulked.

finally, when your legs felt a little less like jelly, you managed to push yourself up, leaning heavily on him for support. jihoon grumbled under his breath, reaching for the paper again, and this time, he managed to grab a handful.

he crouched slightly, his hands surprisingly gentle as he wiped your thighs clean, his lips quirking into a smirk when you flinched. “still sensitive, hmm?”

“shut up,” you mumbled, swatting weakly at his shoulder.

once he’d done his best with the paper towels—which, honestly, wasn’t much—he stood up, brushing your skirt down and tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “you good?”

you nodded, still a little dazed but steady enough to manage. “yeah. i think.”

he hummed, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip as he opened the bathroom door, ignoring the dirty looks from the small line that had formed outside. “what?” he snapped, his glare daring anyone to say a word.

[satellite-evans]

The GQ Couples Quiz

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x reader

Summary: Franco and his girlfriend takes the GQ Couples Quiz :)

Word count: 3.5k+

Warnings: tooth aching fluff, teasing, flirting

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The sleek GQ studio was buzzing with quiet activity. The lights were warm but not overbearing, the cameras were perfectly positioned, and the iconic wooden table was set for the latest celebrity couple to take the famous GQ Couple Quiz.

You adjusted the hem of your cream-colored blazer and looked at Franco sitting beside you. He was impossibly handsome in a tailored shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his toned forearms.

Franco turned to you with a playful grin. “Okay, mi reina, are you ready? I’m about to prove I know you better than anyone.”

You smirked, leaning into him just slightly. “We’ll see about that. I don’t think you’re ready for the questions.”

Franco chuckled, his accent curling around his words, and you couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest. He reached out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

You could feel the excitement building between you two, and as the interviewer looked over, they gave a friendly smile.

"Alright, we’re ready to roll," the interviewer said, looking at both of you. "Whenever you're ready."

Franco turned to the camera with a confident grin. “Hi, I’m Franco Colapinto…”

“And I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you finished, your smile just as warm. You exchanged a quick glance, knowing exactly where this was going.

“And today,” Franco continued, giving you a playful side-eye, “we’re taking GQ’s Couples Quiz.”

You chuckled, nodding in agreement. “We are. Let’s see how well we really know each other…”

The interviewer smiled at your easy chemistry. “I’m excited to see how this goes! Before we dive into the questions, though—how did you two meet? What’s the story behind your relationship?”

Franco smirked, leaning back in his chair slightly as he thought back to the moment. "Well, it wasn’t exactly love at first sight for me, but definitely... curiosity," he said, his Argentine accent giving the words a warm undertone. “We met a few years ago at a charity event. I was there for a sponsor dinner, and Y/N was the guest of honor.”

You smiled, turning to him with a playful look. “Yeah, I didn’t know who he was at first. He was just standing there, looking like he didn’t want to talk to anyone. I thought he was avoiding the crowd.”

Franco raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your recounting. “I wasn’t avoiding anyone! I just don’t love big crowds, but when I saw her, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.”

You shook your head with a smile. “That’s because you were staring, Franco. Staring.”

He laughed, looking over at you. "Guilty as charged."

The interviewer chuckled, enjoying the playful dynamic between you two. "I love how much you two tease each other. But it’s clear there’s something special here. Alright, let’s get into the quiz!"

Franco squeezed your hand. “Ready to show off how well we know each other?”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin tugging at your lips. “Oh, I’m ready. Let’s see if you remember the little details, Mr. Colapinto.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping low in that playful way you loved. “Trust me, cariño, I remember everything about you.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Let’s hope so. Alright, hit us with the first question.”

Franco Colapinto and Y/N Y/L/N Take The GQ Couple Quiz

The interviewer set the tone. “Alright, let’s see how well this power couple knows each other. First question:

Who made the first move?

Franco immediately laughed, leaning back in his chair as if preparing for a defense. “It was me. No question.”

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “It wasn’t as smooth as you’re making it sound, though.”

He feigned offense, pressing a hand to his chest. “Excuse me? I was very smooth.”

“Franco,” you said, turning toward him fully, your hand resting on his arm. “You tripped over a chair trying to get to me during the charity event.”

“That was part of the charm,” he quipped, leaning closer until your noses almost touched. “But I regret nothing. You were standing there, looking like a literal dream, and I thought, ‘If I don’t talk to her right now, someone else will.’”

You felt your cheeks warm as you remembered that night. “Well, it worked. The chair-tripping, the terrible Spanish pick-up line—”

“Terrible? It was romantic!” Franco interjected, laughing. “I said, ‘¿Eres un ángel, o acabo de soñar contigo?’”

You giggled, your hand slipping to his knee. “That’s so cheesy, but... I guess it was cute.”

“Cute enough to get me here,” he said, grinning, before leaning in and brushing a kiss to your cheek. “So I think I win this one.”

What’s Y/N’s favorite nickname Franco calls her?

You barely hesitated as you held up your card to show what you wrote : Mi reina.

Franco nodded, his hazel eyes softening as he wrote the same. “It’s my favorite, too. Because you really are my queen.”

You smiled, biting your lip as the warmth of his words settled over you. “I think it’s the way you say it,” you admitted. “It’s not just the nickname. It’s how you say it like I’m your entire world.”

“You are my world, mi vida,” he said, reaching for your hand. His thumb traced gentle circles over your skin, and his gaze locked with yours. “You’re everything to me.”

The moment lingered as if time itself had slowed, and for a second, the cameras and crew disappeared. It was just the two of you.

Who takes longer to get ready?

The interviewer smirked as the question was read aloud. “Okay, who’s the real diva in this relationship? Who takes longer to get ready?”

Franco didn’t even hesitate. “Her,” he said with a grin, pointing at you. “No competition.”

You gasped, your hand flying to your chest in mock offense. “Excuse me? I’m the diva? You’re the one who takes forever to pick the perfect pair of shoes. You’ve got, what, ten pairs of white sneakers?”

Franco laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m efficient. I pick a pair and I’m done in five minutes. You, on the other hand, spend twenty minutes deciding between two pairs of earrings.”

“Because I care about the details,” you shot back, flipping your card to reveal your answer: Me. “Fine, I’ll own it. But at least I have a reason.”

“And what’s that?” Franco asked, his tone playful as he leaned in closer, his hand sliding to your thigh.

You smirked. “I’m representing both of us. If I look bad, it reflects on you, too.”

Franco shook his head, a fond smile playing on his lips. “You could walk out in pajamas and still look like a goddess.”

“Smooth,” you teased, biting your lip to suppress a smile.

“Just honest,” he replied, brushing his lips against your ear. “Besides, I like when you wear my hoodie. It’s my favorite look.”

You burst out laughing, playfully shoving him. “Okay, stop before you make me blush on camera.”

“Too late,” he said, grinning as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

What’s Franco’s most overused phrase?

The interviewer grinned. “What’s the one phrase Franco says so much that you could finish his sentences for him?”

You didn’t even have to think. “Easy. Todo bien.” You flipped your card, smirking as Franco revealed his matching answer.

“Okay, okay, guilty,” Franco admitted, laughing as he ran a hand through his hair. “But it works for everything. You ask me how my day is? Todo bien. If something goes wrong in the car? Todo bien. It’s versatile!”

“It’s lazy,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow. “It’s like your default setting.”

Franco grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But you love it.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “I tolerate it.”

“Liar,” he said, his voice dropping a notch as he leaned closer, his tone warm and teasing. “You told me once that you love how calm I am. That I’m steady. Remember?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you couldn’t help the soft smile that crept onto your lips. “Yeah, okay, fine. I love it because it’s you. And because it means you don’t let things get to you.”

Franco’s gaze softened as he reached for your hand. “And because I’ve got you, mi reina. As long as we’re together, it’s always todo bien.”

What’s Y/N’s guilty pleasure?

Franco smirked, his hazel eyes lighting up with mischief as he wrote his answer. “Oh, this one is good.”

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “Don’t you dare.”

He flipped his card with a flourish: Reality TV.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as the crew laughed. “Why do you insist on exposing me like this?”

Franco was practically glowing with amusement. “Because it’s hilarious! I’ll walk into the living room, and you’re sitting there, yelling at people on The Bachelor like they can actually hear you.”

“Franco!” you cried, smacking his arm as your cheeks burned. “You promised not to bring that up.”

“I lied,” he said, grinning unabashedly. “But it’s adorable. You get so into it, like your whole life depends on whether some random guy picks the right girl.”

“It’s called emotional investment,” you argued, crossing your arms. “You should try it sometime.”

“Oh, I’m emotionally invested, alright,” he teased, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “But not in some reality show. Just in you.”

Your faux indignation melted away as he leaned closer, his hand brushing yours. “You’re so lucky you’re cute,” you muttered, a smile tugging at your lips.

“And you’re lucky I find your reality TV obsession charming,” he shot back, his tone filled with affection.

Who’s more competitive?

This question made you both laugh out loud. You scribbled quickly, holding up your card at the same time as Franco. Both read: Franco.

“Obviously,” you teased, pointing at him. “He can’t help himself. He races cars for a living! He even makes game nights at home a bloodsport.”

Franco raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Hold on, let’s not forget how you turned Uno into a tactical war.”

You gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me, I was defending myself! You were the one gloating.”

“I’m a Gemini,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “But seriously, I think competition makes things more fun. It keeps us sharp.”

“And gives you an excuse to win,” you teased, leaning closer until your shoulder bumped his.

Franco laughed, his hand sliding around your waist. “Maybe. But only because I like impressing you.”

What’s Franco’s hidden talent?

You tapped your pen against the table, glancing at Franco with a knowing smile. “This one’s easy,” you said, scribbling on your card. You flipped it over for the camera: Tango dancing.

Franco’s eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed a faint pink. “You’re really going to expose me like that?”

“Absolutely,” you replied with a grin, nudging him. “How could I not? You’re incredible at it.”

Franco shook his head, laughing softly. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just something I like to do back home. Everyone learns.”

“Oh, no, no,” you interrupted, leaning closer to him. “You’re not getting away with that. When I saw you tango for the first time, I swear I forgot how to breathe.”

Franco chuckled, turning to the interviewer. “She’s exaggerating. But yeah, growing up, my abuela loved tango. She taught me and my cousins. She’d play Carlos Gardel records, and we’d have little competitions in her living room.”

Your expression softened as you listened. “I think it’s one of the most beautiful things about you—how connected you are to your culture.”

He looked at you, his hazel eyes warm. “Well, if you love it so much, why don’t we show them?”

Your jaw dropped. “Right now? Here? Are you crazy? Absolutely not!”

The crew laughed, while you fanned yourself with the cards since it stared to become warmer and warmer and Franco sighed to the camera.

“Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying, no?”

Who’s more likely to cry during a movie?

You groaned the moment the question was read. “Oh, come on. We all know the answer to this.”

Franco raised a brow, a teasing smile spreading across his face. “Do we? Let’s see if you admit it.”

You both wrote your answers and revealed them at the same time. Both cards read: Y/N.

Franco laughed, throwing his head back. “I mean, it’s true. You cry at everything.”

“C’mon, now you’re just exaggerating!” you protested, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

Franco leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table as he looked at you. “Mi amor, you cried during a dog food commercial last week. Dog food.”

“It was sad!” you defended, crossing your arms. “The dog grew old, and they were playing that emotional piano music…”

Franco reached over, pulling you into his side as he kissed the top of your head. “And I love that about you. It’s one of my favorite things. You feel everything so deeply, and it’s beautiful.”

You looked up at him, your eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re just saying that because you like comforting me.”

“True,” he admitted, grinning. “But it’s also because it’s you. And if you cry, I’ll always be there to kiss the tears away.”

What’s Franco’s favorite childhood memory?

Franco’s smile turned wistful as he wrote his answer. He flipped the card: Sunday asados with my family.

You smiled, nodding. “I knew you’d say that. You talk about them all the time.”

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant as he thought back. “Every Sunday, my entire family would gather at my abuela’s house. There’d be cousins running around, fútbol matches in the yard, and my tío would be at the grill, making the best asado you could imagine. The smell of the meat, the sound of everyone laughing… it was perfect.”

You reached out, placing your hand over his. “That’s why you always want to recreate it, isn’t it? Even here.”

He nodded, his smile bittersweet. “Yeah. It’s not the same without everyone, but it helps me feel close to home.”

What’s Y/N’s dream role?

Franco watched you intently as you wrote your answer, his expression already filled with pride. You held up your card: A biopic.

Franco grinned. “Of course. You’ve talked about this so many times. You want to play someone real, someone with a story that matters.”

You nodded, your voice growing thoughtful. “I think acting is about connecting with people. Telling their truths. And there’s something so powerful about stepping into someone else’s shoes, especially when their story needs to be heard.”

Franco reached for your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “And you’d be amazing at it. I’ve seen how much heart you put into everything you do.”

You smiled at him, your chest tightening with emotion. “You’re my biggest cheerleader, you know that?”

“Always,” he said softly. “Because I believe in you, mi reina. More than anyone.”

Who’s the bigger flirt?

You both burst into laughter before the question was even finished. Franco raised a brow. “Be honest.”

“Oh, I’m being honest,” you said, flipping your card: Franco.

He feigned shock. “What? Me? How?”

“It’s the accent,” you teased, smirking. “Everything you say sounds flirty.”

Franco leaned closer, his hand brushing your thigh under the table. “Only for you, mi amor.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “See? That’s exactly what I mean.”

Franco grinned, brushing his lips against your temple. “What can I say? I can’t help myself. You bring it out of me.”

What’s Franco’s pre-race ritual?

Your card was ready in seconds: His lucky wristband. Franco revealed the same answer with a smile.

“I know it’s not an actual ritual but you do always make sure you wear it before a race,” you said, glancing at the worn fabric around his wrist.

Franco nodded, his gaze tender. “You gave it to me before my first big race. You said it would keep me safe.”

“And it has,” you added softly, your voice trembling slightly. “Every time you’re out there, I know you’ve got a piece of me with you.”

Franco reached for your hand, his thumb tracing your knuckles. “It’s more than a piece of you. It’s everything. It reminds me why I do this. For us.”

How do you see your future together?

The room grew quieter as the final question sank in. Franco turned to you, his hazel eyes filled with an intensity that made your heart ache. He took a deep breath, then wrote: Together, always.

You revealed a similar answer, and your lips trembled as you tried to speak. “That’s all I want.”

Franco took your hands, pulling you closer. “I see us traveling the world, chasing dreams, and building a life full of love. One day, we’ll have a home in Argentina. A big one, with space for our kids to run around.”

Your eyes filled with tears as he spoke. “Franco…”

“You’re my forever,” he said softly, brushing a tear from your cheek. “No matter where we are, as long as we’re together, it’ll be perfect.”

You leaned into him, and he kissed you, sealing the promise with a tenderness that left everyone in the in awe.

The interviewer smiled, clearly enjoying the chemistry between you two. “Well, that’s a wrap on the quiz. I have to say, you two are absolutely adorable together. Thank you for being so open and playful with your answers.”

You both leaned back in your chairs, your hearts still racing from the last round of questions. You flashed the interviewer a smile. “Thank you for having us. This was actually a lot of fun.”

Franco gave you a teasing side-eye. “See? I told you we’d survive it. I think we make a pretty good team.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what you think?”

Franco shot you a wink, clearly enjoying your playful back-and-forth. “Absolutely. No one else could have pulled this off like we did.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips as you reached over to grab his hand. “Well, you might be right about that. You’re kind of a master at the whole ‘effortlessly cool’ thing. I’ll give you that.”

He squeezed your hand, his tone suddenly more sincere. “You know, I couldn’t have done this without you. You make everything better, reina.”

The interviewer chuckled softly, glancing at the two of you. “It’s clear you’ve got something special. I think I’m starting to understand why you two are always the talk of the town. And don’t get me started on those looks you exchange—it’s like there’s a secret language between you.”

You both laughed, your hearts full as Franco’s thumb traced lazy circles over your wrist. “Well,” you said, your voice softer now, “we’ve got a pretty strong connection. We’ve been through a lot together, and at the end of the day, we just… get each other.”

Franco nodded, his expression tender. “Yeah. It’s not just the fun moments. It’s the real stuff too. You’re my rock, and you make me better in ways I didn’t even know I needed.”

You leaned in slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You do the same for me, Franco. I think we’re kind of perfect for each other.”

The interviewer, clearly moved by the genuine tenderness between you two, smiled warmly. “Well, it looks like you two have found something truly special. It’s rare to see such real, authentic love, especially in the spotlight. You’re both lucky.”

You nodded, squeezing Franco’s hand. “We really are.”

Franco turned his head, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Lucky, but also the happiest I’ve ever been. You’re my everything, and this little quiz was just one of many more moments to come.”

You chuckled, feeling a blush rise in your cheeks. “Well, don’t get too carried away. You still have to deal with me picking out my earrings for the next hour.”

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “I’ll happily wait as long as it takes, mi reina.”

The interviewer laughed, clearly enchanted by the chemistry between you. “Alright, alright, you two are officially making me swoon. But seriously, thank you both for being such great sports. This was a blast.”

As the cameras shut off and the crew started to pack up, you and Franco shared a quiet moment, basking in the intimacy of the space you’d created between the two of you. You looked at him with a soft smile, feeling incredibly lucky to share such a love that felt both deep and lighthearted.

“I’m glad we did this,” you murmured.

Franco pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead. “I’ll always do anything that makes you happy. And I love seeing you laugh.”

You leaned into him, your fingers lightly playing with his shirt sleeve. “We’re a great team, huh?”

“The best,” he said, his voice low and affectionate. He looked at you, his eyes full of sincerity. “Always.”