#definitely doesn’t play sims

[saturngalore]

kinda nice to see paralives finally getting somewhat of a release date and future free dlc but idk if im feeling the whole cozy vibe it has…i kinda need chaos in my game if it’s “replacing” sims 4/5 😭

[jungwnies]

f1 grid | hubby or daddy

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by) : calls the driver husband or daddy to see their reaction

୨ৎ : tws : slightly suggestive for some drivers ୨ৎ : word count : 1506

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i loved writing this and i had so many fun figuring out if they'd react to daddy or husband more, i love writing these slightly suggestive things its so funny LMFAO

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

“daddy, can you pass me my water bottle?” you say casually, not even looking up.

max freezes like a Windows 98 computer. the air is suddenly dense.

“what did you just call me?” he asks, blinking slowly, head tilted like he misheard.

you repeat it, and max mutters, “say it again.”

acts like it didn’t affect him, but he’s silent for the next ten minutes because his brain is buffering.

yuki tsunoda

you drop it while sitting on his lap, playing with his hoodie string. “thank you, daddy.”

yuki BLUSHES but grins so hard his cheeks hurt.

“okay wait—i kinda love that,” he admits, pulling you closer.

immediately makes it his entire personality.

saves your contact as “y/n 😈 (calls me daddy).”

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

“my sweet husband, can you grab the keys?” you toss over your shoulder on the way out.

george fumbles whatever he’s holding. literally goes still.

“that’s... really sweet, actually,” he says, all soft.

brings it up later like “so hypothetically... if we were married…”

kimi antonelli

“ah, this is my husband.” you say introducing him to one of our friends.

pauses, looks at you, then just melts.

“do you mean that?” he asks shyly, trying not to smile too hard.

acts cool, but he’s red as hell.

whispers it to himself later like a mantra. “husband. her husband.”

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

“hubby,” you hum as you lean over his shoulder, voice sugar-sweet, “can you unzip my dress?”

charles turns to look at you, slow and deliberate, mouth parted just slightly.

“you can’t just say things like that and walk away,” he says, already following you.

blushes so easily when you call him husband in public though.

and when you say “daddy” one night instead—let’s just say the dress never got zipped back up.

lewis hamilton

you’re sprawled across the bed in just his t-shirt, smiling up at him. “what are you gonna do about it, daddy?”

lewis hums, smirks, doesn’t even flinch. “that’s what i like to hear.”

suddenly he’s setting his phone down, walking over like it’s a challenge.

“say it again. just once more.”

you don’t, but he definitely makes you later.

in private, he’s very soft though—will cup your cheek and whisper, “my baby’s got good taste.”

and in front of the team, if you dare tease him with it under your breath, he will smirk and shoot you that warning glance.

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

“husband,” you grin, peeking into his sim room with your arms crossed, “your wife is waiting.”

lando drops the controller like it burned him.

“don’t say it like that—unless you mean it,” he stammers, already flushed.

he tries to play it off with a laugh, but he’s so visibly soft it’s insane.

“wait, do it again. just once. maybe twice. actually, three more times?”

his phone contact for you becomes “wifey 💍” within ten minutes.

oscar piastri

“thanks for dinner, daddy,” you say casually while clearing your plate.

oscar chokes on his water. “sorry—what?”

it takes him a full minute to process and then suddenly he’s red from the neck up.

“you can’t—i mean. you can, but maybe warn me next time?”

starts overthinking it: does he look like a daddy? is that good? bad??

tells lando and immediately regrets it.

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

“see you at home, daddy,” you whisper as you lean in to kiss his cheek before a press conference.

doesn’t even blink when you say it—just smirks like he already knew.

tells lance about it like it’s a casual brag: “mi amor calls me daddy now.”

makes sure the world knows who you belong to with a hand around your waist and a certain look in his eye.

“say it again,” he’ll murmur when you’re alone. and when you do—yeah. game over.

lance stroll

“hubby, can you hand me the remote?” you ask, lounging on the couch, barely looking up.

lance freezes in place, halfway to the kitchen. “…you just call me husband?”

his whole face lights up like you proposed to him.

“you can say that again. actually, wait—no, don’t, i’ll cry.”

spends the next twenty minutes cuddled up to you repeating it back. insists on referring to himself as your husband from now on, joking or not.

ʚ・williams

alex albon

“thanks for dinner, daddy,” you say offhandedly, biting into your spring roll.

alex nearly chokes. stares at you like you just summoned a spirit in the room. “um. sorry. did you just…?”

starts laughing but you can see the blush creep up his neck.

“i—i don’t know if i like that. i mean. maybe?”

spends the rest of the night analyzing it like it’s a race strategy: “okay but in what context was it used?”

you say it again a week later, and he goes completely silent. you’re pretty sure he does like it.

carlos sainz

“you ready to go, papi?” you purr as you twirl the car keys on your finger.

he spins around so fast it’s like a reaction time drill.

absolutely lights up—this is his moment.

“ah, finally! i’ve been waiting for you to call me that!”

immediately starts flirting: “say it again, cariño. for me.”

will not stop calling himself your papi in texts.

insists you say it once before every race for good luck.

has never driven faster in his life after hearing it trackside.

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

“thanks for grabbing my stuff, husband,” you say as he walks in, arms full of your forgotten belongings.

nearly drops everything. his ears go red instantly. “wait—did you just…? i mean… do you mean it?”

tries to play it cool but he literally giggles. like, full chest laugh. “that’s—yeah, that’s cute. i like that.”

starts calling you “wifey” in return. tells the mechanics: “don’t mind me, just doing something for my wife.”

dead serious about it too—refers to you as “the mrs” now, even though you’re not married. his background is now you in his hoodie captioned “mrs. bearman.”

esteban ocon

“hubby,” you sigh, walking into the kitchen where he’s already made your coffee.

esteban turns around like you’ve just proposed. his whole face softens. “i like the sound of that.”

actually starts talking about wedding colors later that night. “we’d look good in cream, no?”

says it back in a whisper every time you say it—“yes, wifey?”

you don’t think you’ve seen him that smiley in ages.

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

“thanks for grabbing dinner, husband.”

he freezes in place with two takeout bags and a stunned expression. “wait, did you just…?”

looks like he just got told he won a championship. “that was… really cute. you can say that again.”

tries to hide how flustered he is by fiddling with the bags like they’re the most interesting thing on earth.

later that night, when you're brushing your teeth: “you know, husband has a nice ring to it.”

gets super soft every time you use it. when you’re out and someone asks if you’re married, he doesn’t correct them.

isack hadjar

“thanks for the snack, daddy.”

chokes on his water. “woah. woah, woah, woah—say that again?”

leans in so fast, you’re cornered by the fridge before you can pretend you didn’t say it. “nah, you started something.”

50/50 between smirking and fully malfunctioning.

acts cocky for the next ten minutes but then randomly blurts, “do you really mean it though?”

he wants to be your everything and hearing that word is short-circuiting his whole system.

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

“can you pass me that, hubby?”

he’s halfway through a sentence when you say it, and he just stops.

blinks. twice. then grins like a fox. “husband, huh?”

walks around repeating it all smug like: “hubby, husband, hubby—yeah, i like that.”

pulls you into a back hug in the kitchen, nuzzles your neck.

“say it again, bébé. c’mon.” changes your contact name to “ma femme 💍” immediately.

100% starts plotting your actual proposal without telling you.

franco colapinto

“what do you want to eat, daddy?”

you thought he was quiet before? not anymore.

this man revs to life like you just flipped a switch.

full smirk, head tilt, dark eyes, “ay no… don’t say that unless you mean it.”

casually leans against the counter but his grip on the edge is tight.

“you know what that does to me, right?”

will now 100% find every excuse to hear it again.

whisper it once while walking past him and you’re getting dragged back by the waist.

dead serious when he murmurs, “you shouldn’t tease like that, hermosa.”

ʚ・kick sauber

nico hulkenberg

“could you grab my phone, hubby?”

you say it all casual, like it’s nothing. nico freezes.

“hhubby?” he repeats, slow and low like he’s tasting the word.

a small chuckle, but he’s softening fast.

“you trying to kill me or something?”

watches you from across the room like he’s seeing something new.

walks up and kisses your temple with a quiet, “don’t stop.”

from that moment on, he starts practicing saying “my wife” under his breath like it’s a damn mantra.

says it to the barista on accident once and blushes like a teenager.

gabriel bortoleto

“thanks for dinner, husband.”

you don’t even look up when you say it. but he does.

melts. like instant goo. like putty in your hands.

can’t stop smiling. full dimples. boyish grin. sparkly eyes.

“you mean it?” he asks, all wide-eyed and shy.

literally takes your hand and kisses the back of it like a knight.

“if you keep saying that, i’m gonna get ideas, you know?”

changes his instagram bio to “future husband material” that night.

already imagining your last name with his. over and over.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[heejamas]

MANCHILD

➢ pairing: cowboy!jake x fem!reader … ﹒cowboy au, strangers to lovers, smut \\ ➢ synopsis: you’re trouble, and jake sim knows it. you flirt like it’s your job, wear sin like perfume, and make men beg without even trying. he’s the only cowboy who doesn’t chase you. so naturally, he’s the only one you want. a small-town, slow-burn, filthy little game of who breaks first. ➢ word count: 9.5k

➢ warnings: smut!! minors dni. oral sex (f and m receiveing), unprotected sex (dont do it!!), public-ish sex, dirty talk, possessive!jake, softdom!jake, bratty!reader, spanking, cum eating, praise and degradation, cowboy kink™, jake is a menace but so are you, yeehaw but make it slutty

you’re wiping down the counter when you say it, voice low and lazy, like it’s just another tuesday night and not the kind of sentence that rearranges a man’s brain chemistry.

“i like my boys playing hard to get.”

you don’t mean it to land anywhere in particular. you’re just talking, tossing it out there between gossip, your voice sweet, meant only for the girl beside you. so she laughs, nudges you with her hip. “you mean the ones who ghost you after three days?”

“no,” you sigh, stretching like a cat behind the bar. “i mean the ones who pretend they don’t care. the ones too proud to beg. makes it more fun when they do.”

you say it like it’s a joke, but you mean every word. and across the room, jake sim hears you.

he hadn’t meant to. hadn’t even realized he was eavesdropping until the words tangled around him. he’s not the type to pay attention to chatter. he’s been coming to this place for years, knows how to tune out the flirting and the country drawls and the clink of empty glasses. but your voice is different. and he’s seen you around, of course. everyone has.

you’re the kind of girl people build myths around. the kind they write country songs about, because you have a laugh that could ruin a man. and every guy in town’s tried his luck. most ended up a little poorer, a little dumber, and twice as obsessed. and you never even blinked.

so when you breeze past his table, tray balanced on your palm, perfume trailing like a challenge, jake doesn’t move. doesn’t shift, doesn’t look up from his drink. not obviously, at least. he doesn’t give you the satisfaction. and you notice. oh, you notice. because you’re used to stares, to whistles and clumsy compliments and boys who fall over themselves to hand you things you never asked for. you’re used to the way they sit up straighter when you walk by, the way their words fumble out of their mouths like dropped coins.

but this one? this one just sits there. quiet and unmoved.

you catch him watching only once, just once, when you lean forward to grab a bottle from the bottom shelf, and when your eyes flick up, his are already somewhere else. not pretending, not faking it, just gone. and it pisses you off more than it should.

you don’t say anything. you just toss your hair over your shoulder and smile at the other girl again, louder this time. “i like my men all incompetent,” you declare, tucking a dollar into your apron, “and i swear they choose me, i’m not choosing them.”

jake lifts his beer to his lips, slow. doesn’t smile. doesn’t even smirk. and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel in control of the game. you hate that, but you also love that.

but you definitely hate rodeos.

too loud and sweaty. too many men with too little brain and too much cologne. it’s just the same loop every time—horses, hats, hollering, and someone calling you “sweet cheeks” like that’s supposed to make you blush instead of gag. normally, you stay far away. but tonight’s different. because you heard jake sim was riding.

so you show up. late, of course, on purpose. your boots crunch over dirt and beer cans as you make your way through the crowd, hips swinging just enough to remind everyone you don’t walk, you arrive. every man you pass straightens his spine like you might look at him if he behaves, and every woman rolls her eyes in that half-jealous way they always do.

but you don’t care. you’re not here for them. you’re here for the man on the horse.

and when you spot him, out in the pen, one hand gripping the reins, the other resting light against his thigh, you feel that slow, low flutter in your stomach that tastes a little like trouble. because he’s wearing that stupid hat again, the same beat-up one that sits just low enough to make his eyes a mystery and his mouth a promise. his shirt’s rolled up to the elbows, collar unbuttoned, forearms dusted with dirt and sin. he looks like sin. he rides like sin.

you lean against the fence, pop a piece of gum into your mouth, and pretend you’re not watching. but you are, everyone is. but he doesn’t look into the crowd, not once. he doesn’t wave, doesn’t show off, doesn’t even smile. he just focuses—on the gate, on the bull, on the seconds ticking down before the chaos. there’s something precise about it, almost like he’s not here to perform, just to win.

and you hate how hot that is.

when the gate finally opens and he bursts out, body moving like he’s part of the beast beneath him, the whole crowd goes wild. people scream, hats fly, beer spills. but you just chew your gum and watch. he holds on longer than anyone else that night. and when he lands, smooth and sharp and smug, your stomach does a traitorous little flip.

he still doesn’t look at you. not even when he walks past, later, towel slung over his shoulder, shirt sticking to his back, sweat dripping down his neck like something out of a country girl’s fantasy.

you’re standing by the concession stand now, pretending to look at overpriced chili fries when he walks right past you again. and for the first time, maybe in ever, you don’t know what to do with that. because everyone looks at you. everyone wants something from you.

but jake sim? jake sim doesn’t even blink.

you pop your gum again, louder than necessary. he still doesn’t turn. bastard. so you lick your lips, tilt your head, and mutter just loud enough for the girl next to you to hear—just loud enough for him to maybe hear, too— “god, i hate cowboys.”

except you don’t. you really, really don’t.

so you decide to wear red on saturday. not a soft red. not a muted, tasteful, wine-country red. no, this is bright, dangerous, stop-sign red. the kind that glitters when you walk and blasphemes when you bend. you slip it on slow, knowing exactly what it does to your body and your ego. it’s the kind of dress that starts fights and finishes them.

you don’t wear it for him, not technically. but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t check your lipstick twice before heading to the bar, or if you hadn’t spent a good three minutes wondering if jake sim was the type of man who noticed sequins.

(it turns out—he isn’t.)

he’s already there when you walk in, sitting in his usual corner like a piece of furniture carved from patience and denim. same hat, same shirt, same maddeningly blank expression. he doesn’t flinch when you walk by. doesn’t scan your legs like every other man. doesn’t lean over to whisper something to his friend and then laugh too loud. he just looks. once. and then looks away.

you could scream. instead, you smile. you spend the next hour putting on a show—not for him, of course, never that. just for… the atmosphere. you take extra time leaning over the bar. you laugh a little louder, let your fingers trail longer. you flirt, you twirl, you dance like you’re made of sugar and smoke.

and he just sits there. solid. steady and stoic in the face of sin.

when the jukebox shifts to something slow and sweaty, your friend pulls you out from behind the bar and spins you onto the floor. you go willingly, you always do. you dance with her, and then with some other guy, who’s a terrible flirt but a decent dancer. you laugh as you move, hips swaying, hands up, hair stuck to your neck. people cheer, whistles echo. someone shouts your name.

and still, jake sim doesn’t look. he sits there, beer untouched, fingers drumming slowly against the table. his eyes are on the wall, or the floor, or nowhere at all. you want to throw a chair at him. instead, you press your body just a little closer, let your head tip back, your laughter bubble out like champagne. 

and for half a second, just half, you swear you can feel his gaze. but by the time you glance over, it’s gone.

you finish the dance anyway, cheeks flushed from effort or ego or something worse, and when you walk past jake’s table again, you pause. just enough. he still doesn’t say anything. but his knuckles are white around the bottle, and that’s something.

and ​​you’re not much of a smoker, not really. it’s more about the image. the ritual of it—door swinging shut behind you, the hum of the saloon dulling into background noise, a lighter flicked slowly. you like the weight of the cigarette between your fingers, the way it makes your mouth look meaner. you especially like the way people look at you when you do it.

on sunday, though, the sidewalk is mostly empty. the neon sign above the door buzzes like it’s dying, and your heels click against the pavement. you’re alone, almost. because he’s there. leaning against his truck—of course it’s a truck, stupid and long and matte black— arms crossed, hat low, chewing on a toothpick like he was placed there by god.

you try not to look. but of course you fail.

“you always stand like that,” you say, taking a drag and blowing smoke sideways, “or is this a special occasion?”

he doesn’t turn, god, he doesn’t even smile. “like what?” he asks, voice low and scratchy, like he only uses it when necessary.

you flick ash toward the gravel and shift your weight, one hip out, just enough to suggest: i am here and i am wearing very little. so you say: “like you’re being painted,” you say. “by someone too obsessed with denim.”

that gets a reaction, barely—a twitch at the corner of his mouth. nothing close to a smile, but you count it anyway. “you don’t like denim?” he asks.

“i like it just fine,” you say, letting your eyes travel up and down. “i just think it likes you a lot.”

he hums, quiet and unfazed. the toothpick shifts from one side of his mouth to the other with devastating nonchalance. “you always flirt like that?” he asks finally, and it’s almost cruel, the way he says it—like he’s calling you out without even looking at you.

you tilt your head. “like what?”

“like you’re bored.”

you take another drag, slower this time. it buys you a second. maybe two. “i’m not bored,” you say. “i’m offended.”

he finally looks at you then. really looks. not a glance, not a flick of the eyes, but a slow, full scan that starts at your boots and ends at your mouth. “offended?”

“yeah,” you say. “you’re the first man in town who hasn’t tried to get a shot with me.”

he raises an eyebrow. your breath hitches, and you curse yourself for it. because god damn it. he pushes off the truck, and he steps forward, just one step, just close enough for you to smell him. smoke and leather and desert heat. “that why you came out here?” he asks. “to collect another admirer?”

“no,” you say, a little too quickly. “i came out to smoke.”

he nods, glances at your cigarette. “you’re holding it backwards.”

you look down, you are. shit.

he walks past you then, amused and infuriatingly tall, back toward the saloon. and just before the door swings shut behind him, he tosses the toothpick into the dirt and says, without looking: “you’ll have better luck with someone who gives a damn, sweetheart.”

you stand there for a minute, blinking smoke out of your eyes, lips parted in disbelief, cigarette still backwards in your hand. you don’t know whether to chase him or marry him. probably both.

the annual summer festival happens a week later, and the whole town’s lost its damn mind. kids run wild, drunk uncles argue, and there’s a man singing country ballads off-key on the main.

and you look stunning, obviously.  short dress, boots too clean to be from here, a pair of sunglasses you don’t need but wear anyway. you walk through the crowd like you’re not sweating like everyone else. and your arm? it’s linked tightly through lee heeseung’s. the sheriff’s son. walking cologne bottle. he thinks calling women “sugar tits” is flirtation and not a felony. you smile like he’s the most charming thing this town’s ever coughed up. and across the lot, jake sees everything.

he’s standing near the fence, drink in hand, chewing on his pride. he looks like a warning sign, his arms crossed so tight his biceps look like they’re planning a mutiny. he doesn’t blink, he doesn’t even pretend not to be watching. you glance at him once, and once is enough.

you laugh louder. lean closer to heeseung, who’s talking about god-knows-what—his truck, his workout, his daddy’s badge—and you nod like you care. every move is calculated. every smile is a weapon. because you know exactly what you’re doing. so you excuse yourself after a while, muttering something about needing another drink, slipping away from heeseung before he can say something else that’ll make your ears bleed. you walk through the back, your boots clicking fast.

you’re halfway to the bar when you feel a heat at your back. 

“fun night?” his voice is behind you. dry and quiet. 

you don’t turn around right away. you let the moment hang. and then you say, “depends,” running a hand through your hair like it’s not dripping down your neck. “you havin’ fun watching?”

he steps in closer. you feel him before you see him, his chest just a breath away from your shoulder. “you always hang off men you don’t like?” he asks, voice low enough to make your knees consider collapsing.

you shrug. “what makes you think i don’t like him?”

“you’re bored. i know what you look like when you’re havin’ fun.”

you hate how that line makes your stomach twist. hate it more that he’s right. so you finally turn to face him, hands on your hips, head tilted with mock sweetness. “what, jealous?”

he laughs. it’s short and dark. “of lee heeseung?” he scoffs. “sweetheart, i’m jealous of his dog before i’m jealous of him.”

you bite your lip to hide the smile, and you fail. “then why are you here?” you ask, eyes locking onto his. 

he leans in, just enough to make you dizzy. his gaze dips—down your lips, down your throat, down your dress—and lingers there, shameless. he looks like he wants to say more. or do more. and you kind of wish he would. but instead, he straightens up, steps back, and lets the space between you fill with heat again.

“because, darling, next time you wanna get under someone’s skin,” he says, “maybe pick a man who ain’t wearin’ daddy’s badge.”

and just like that, he turns and walks off. no touch. not even a goddamn smirk. you’re left standing there, pulse racing, drink forgotten, mouth parted like a woman halfway to disaster.

you fan yourself with your hand, mutter to no one, “fuck my life.”

and over the next few weeks, jake sim makes a habit out of losing his mind quietly.

he tells himself he’s just thirsty. that’s the only reason he keeps showing up to the saloon. he tells himself that every night he parks that stupid truck in the same stupid spot and walks through the same door into the same bar where you’re working, and where you, lately, won’t even look at him.

and that’s what kills him. because you used to look. all big eyes and evil little smiles, like you were constantly cooking up something sinful and he was the poor bastard about to taste it.

but now? now you barely glance in his direction. you walk past him like he’s just another part of the furniture. take other tables. pour drinks with your back to him. laugh at other men’s jokes.

and jake watches silently. desperately. he tries not to, he really does. but his eyes betray him every time. they flick to you the second you walk by—legs bare, hair pulled back with a pen, lips glossed to hell. you smell like vanilla and cigarette smoke, and it’s infuriating how much he wants to bite that smell off your throat.

and the worst part is that he knows you’re doing it on purpose. because sometimes, just sometimes, he catches the way your mouth twitches when you pass his table. the way you shift your weight a little slower, lean over a little further when you’re grabbing something. and when he doesn’t look up—when he pretends not to notice—you bite your lip like you’re trying not to laugh.

you’re playing hard to get. which is adorable, really. but it works. fuck, it works.

jake sim, who’s spent most of his adult life being aggressively unbothered, now sits at this bar like a man possessed. he sips beer and imagines things he shouldn’t. he watches your mouth wrap around straws and thinks about how it’d look wrapped around something else entirely. he stares at your hands pouring drinks and thinks about them fisting in his shirt, pressed against his belt, sliding down—

he coughs. shifts in his seat. takes another sip and pretends like he’s not half hard just because you leaned against the fridge five minutes ago.

he doesn’t talk to you. hasn’t, since the festival. because that would mean giving in. and if there’s one thing jake sim is worse at than feelings, it’s losing. but god, the way you walk? the way you smile at the wrong people? the way you drop the occasional “cowboy” into a sentence like it’s not meant to ruin him?

it’s almost sweet, the way you’re trying to get under his skin. but also: it’s working. and he thinks, not for the first time, that if you asked—if you looked at him a certain way—he’d let you wreck his entire life. you could tie him to the back of his own truck, spit on his mouth, call him useless in front of god and the sheriff, and he’d probably thank you. 

but you don’t look at him anymore. you just brush past him one more time, close enough for your skirt to kiss his knee, and say to no one in particular, real sweet: “why so sexy if so dumb?”

and jake swears to god he’s gonna start a bar fight just to calm down.

but the moment you step onto the dirt lot of the fairgrounds, sundress fluttering and sunglasses perched high on your nose, his brain short-circuits. ​​he sees you the second you walk in. he pretends not to, of course. jake sim has made an olympic sport out of pretending you don’t exist. but you’re here, again. and he’s fucked. 

he’s in the chute, adjusting his gloves, boots already caked in dust, chest strapped down tight like it might explode. he tells himself to focus on the ride, on the bull, on anything but the way your thighs are peeking out from under that goddamn dress.

you shouldn’t be here. he was hoping you’d show up, obviously, but now that you’re actually here, it feels like a setup. like god’s decided to make him fail in front of everyone and look good doing it. so he refuses to look directly at you. not while you’re standing near the fence, leaning against the railing like you’re modeling for the “ruin a man” calendar. not while you’re laughing at something some poor bastard just said, tossing your hair over your shoulder. and certainly not when you suck on that red snow cone.

he adjusts his hat lower. counts backward from ten. tries to remember how to breathe.

he’s still got it under control—mostly—until the moment he’s mounting the bull and glances toward the crowd just once. just a peek. and there you are, watching, with your lip between your teeth and a look that could sterilize holy water.

he slips. just a little. just enough for one boot to miss its mark and his hand to falter on the rope. no one notices. not really. but he does.

the ride still goes fine. better than fine, actually. he makes it the full eight seconds, lands smooth, wipes the sweat off his brow like he’s not a mess on the inside. like he didn’t almost fall off a 1,500-pound animal because you were licking syrup off your finger.

later, after the noise dies down, after the dust settles and the crowd starts dispersing into beer and music and gossip, you find him. he’s near the back of the stables, away from the noise. hat off, hair damp, shirt sticking to his back in places that make your hands twitch.

you lean against the wall, arms crossed, head tilted. he sees you coming. of course he does.

you don’t say anything right away. just look him over like you’re checking for bruises. “didn’t fall this time,” you say.

“not for lack of tryin’,” he mutters.

you raise an eyebrow. “the bull or me?”

he doesn’t answer. you take that as a win. so you step closer, slow. toe the dirt with your boot, pretend to be casual. but everything about you tonight is a performance, and he knows it. the cherry lip gloss. the dress with buttons that strain when you breathe. the way you keep shifting your weight like your thighs are begging for attention. you’re trying to get to him, and you are. but he’ll die before he admits it.

“you always ride that well,” you say, voice syrupy and cruel, “or was that just for me?”

“don’t flatter yourself, darlin’.”

“too late,” you grin. “flattered myself the whole way here.”

he laughs at that, but he still doesn’t move. you take another step. now you’re in front of him, barely a breath of air between your bodies. the tension crackles, like something’s about to snap. he looks down at you, his jaw tight, eyes darker than usual. you could kiss him, you could push him. you could drop to your knees and he wouldn’t stop you. but he stays still. and you know what that means. he’s losing it. slowly and deliciously.

so you just smile, all teeth and trouble, and say: “you gonna say thank you for coming, or do i gotta leave and come back so you can do it right?”

he looks down at you and decides—fuck it. if this is a game, he’s gonna play. so his hand lifts. two fingers hook lazily in your belt in your dress, just enough to make your breath hitch and your knees forget how to behave. he doesn’t pull, doesn’t tug, just lets it sit there. you blink up at him like you weren’t expecting him to do this. because you weren't.

“thought you came to watch the ride,” he says, voice like gravel and heat. “didn’t know you were hopin’ to start one.”

you’re stunned for a second, flustered. but you recover fast. your hand comes up, trailing a single finger down the buttons of his shirt, slowly. and you giggle. you say nothing, you only giggle and smile. then you step back, leaving him standing there with nothing but the smell of your perfume and a growing problem in his jeans. he blinks once. twice. and you’re already gone.

a few days later, he sees you again at the gas station. you’re sitting on the hood of your car. your car is pink, of course it’s pink. girly in that deadly way. floral air freshener, fuzzy dice, a sparkly steering wheel cover and a bumper sticker that probably says something like “yee-haw, bitch.”

you’re licking a cherry lollipop. wearing the tiniest pair of shorts known to mankind and a tank top that does nothing to hide your agenda. your legs are crossed, one foot bouncing lazily in the air like you have nowhere to be and every intention of being stared at. and people are staring. two guys walk by, heads snapping so fast they nearly sprain something. an old man in a tractor cap gives a long, disapproving look that lasts until he crashes into a trash can.

you? you smile sweetly. wave. keep sucking on that lollipop like you’re not ruining lives. and jake watches from the far pump, arms crossed, jaw tight, trying so hard not to enjoy the sight of you doing exactly what you do best.

and then, just like you’ve sensed him from across the lot, you slide off the hood, sway your hips across the concrete, and approach him with the most dangerous sentence in your arsenal: “cowboy,” you say, “i think i got a flat.”

he raises an eyebrow. looks at your car. no flat. you grin like the liar you are. “could you check for me?” you ask, voice all syrup and fake innocence. “i’d do it myself, but—” you shrug, twisting a strand of hair around your finger. “i don’t wanna chip a nail.”

he stares at you and you stare back. he knows what this is. you want him on his knees. and god help him—he’s thinking about it.

“you sure?” he says, tone dry. “seems like you’re the type to pop a tire just to see what crawls out the woodwork.”

“you caught me,” you beam. 

he sighs, but he walks over anyway. you trail behind, delighted, watching him crouch down in front of your car, like he is your personal cowboy-themed thirst trap come to life. he’s in front of you, all strong hands and dirty jeans, touching your tires like it’s a performance.

you lean back against the hood. cross your legs the other way. suck louder on the lollipop, just to be mean. and jake knows the tire’s fine, he also knows he’s losing. and when he looks up—sweat on his brow, eyes half-lidded, gaze landing right between your crossed legs—you don’t say a word. you just smile and keep chewing. you got what you wanted: him on his knees.

and it happens on a thursday. the saloon’s half-full, sticky with the usual noise, and you’ve got a tray in one hand. you spot him before he sees you. or maybe he lets you think that. he’s sitting at the bar, same stool as always. sipping something dark with his hat tipped low and one leg stretched out like the floor belongs to him. he’s talking to someone, a girl you don’t recognize, leaning in just enough to make your stomach twist.

he’s smiling. he never smiles, at least not like that. and that’s when it hits you: he’s doing it on purpose.

your first instinct is to roll your eyes. your second is to walk over there and ruin both their nights. instead, you drop off your tray at the counter, smooth your skirt, and remind yourself that you’re not bothered. not even a little. so you circle around the bar, busy yourself with orders. chat with a guy in a cowboy hat, laugh too loud, lean too close. and eventually, you feel that static buzz that only comes from being watched.

you turn your head, and of course he’s looking. not just looking, jake is devouring. his eyes trail down your legs, up your hips, pause at your chest like he’s making a list of crimes he’d commit if the sheriff weren’t his boss’s daddy. and your heart stutters, your mouth dries. you take a step toward him before you even realize it.

but then he gets up and walks past you, doesn’t say a word. and you think, what the hell?

but then his hand brushes yours, just barely. like an accident that wasn’t an accident. you whip around to say something sharp, but he’s already halfway to the door. and you follow. you don’t mean to, really, but you do. you catch him near the back hallway, one hand braced against the wall, like he knew you’d come after him.

you open your mouth to say something clever, but he steps in real close. close enough that your back hits the wall and your knees almost collapse. “somethin’ wrong, darlin’?” he asks, voice all silk.

“what was that?” you hiss, trying not to stare at his mouth. “flirting with that girl like i wasn’t in the room?”

he smirks. smirks. “didn’t know i needed permission.”

you cross your arms. push your chest up just enough to be annoying. “you’re playing games.”

he shrugs. “so are you.” his hand lifts, not to touch you (the bastard’s too good for that), but to brush a piece of lint off your shoulder. “you looked a little jealous,” he murmurs, voice dipped in sin. “cute look on you.”

your pulse stutters, but you refuse to show it. “you’re gonna die alone,” you say, breathier than intended.

“probably,” he says. “but not before i ruin you first.”

you suck in a breath. his face is right there, close enough that if you leaned forward, you’d taste the whiskey on his lips. you think he might do it, you think maybe this is it. but he doesn’t kiss you. instead, he leans in slow, his breath hot against your cheek, then presses a kiss right there, soft and warm and maddening. the kind of kiss that doesn’t take anything but still leaves you ruined.

then he pulls back. smirking, so smug and infuriating. “goodnight, sweetheart,” he says. and then he walks away, like he didn’t just light a fire in your chest and leave it burning.

and there’s a party on the edge of town on that week—somebody’s cousin’s birthday or maybe just an excuse to drink next to a fire. there’s music blasting out of speakers in the back of a lifted truck, people doing shots, and you’re there, of course, making every poor bastard lose his mind just by existing.

you’re wearing denim shorts and a little white top that ties in the front, and jake sim wants to fight the concept of clothing for making something that looks that illegal.

he sees you before you see him. and he sees heeseung before you do. pretty boy with too-white teeth and too many opinions about his own biceps. he’s been in love with you since high school and never got the hint. but tonight, you’re letting him talk. you’re laughing, you’re standing close. and you don’t even have to look across the fire to know jake’s watching.

you toss your hair over your shoulder. heeseung says something about his new truck and how it “purrs like a mountain cat,” which isn’t a thing, but you smile anyway. you’re about to make some flirty comment just to push it further when a hand wraps around your arm.

not rough, not mean, just firm. you whip around and there he is. jake. his face is unreadable. calm, almost. but his grip says something else entirely.

you blink. “well, hey there, cowboy—”

“walk,” he says.

you try to act annoyed, dramatic. “what if i don’t feel like—”

“walk.”

so you do. he leads you away from the fire, away from the crowd, toward the gravel lot where his truck is. you expect him to say something, yell, maybe. accuse you of something dramatic and delicious. but instead, he spins you around and presses you up against the passenger door.

his hand is still on your arm. the other braces beside your head. his body doesn’t touch yours, not really, but he’s close enough that you can feel the heat off his skin and the tension coiled under it. you blink up at him, wide-eyed and fake-innocent. “is this how you treat all your women, cowboy? dragging them into parking lots and pinning them to cars?”

“no,” he says. “just the ones who know better.”

you gasp softly, it’s almost a laugh. “oh, so now you’re mad?”

he leans in, mouth inches from yours, eyes dark and hungry. “you wore that top on purpose.”

you smirk. “maybe i was hot.”

he looks down, pointedly. “you are. and you know what you’re doin’.”

“do i?”

he exhales sharp through his nose, like he’s trying not to combust. and when he speaks again, his voice is lower. “you really want him to touch you? that what you’re lookin’ for?”

you blink slow and wet your lips. “maybe i just want somebody who actually does it.”

the look on his face shifts just slightly. then he leans in. you think this time it’ll happen, finally, the kiss, the collapse. the moment the game ends. but instead, his lips graze your jaw, not your mouth. his hand dips low, fingers brushing the hem of your shorts like he’s thinking about it.

“you don’t want ‘somebody,’” he whispers. “you want me.” you’re not breathing. he pulls back again, just enough to leave you gasping in the space between what was almost and what still isn’t. “but you’ll have to beg, sweetheart,” he adds, smirking. “and i don’t think you’re ready to do that yet.”

he turns like he’s going to walk away again, like that’s the last word. like he didn’t just light a match and drop it between your legs. but this time, you don’t let him. your hand shoots out fast and grabs his belt loop. he pauses and stills, and slowly, turns his head back toward you.

“you think i won’t?” you ask, voice low and deadly sweet.

he looks down at your hand, still fisted in his jeans like a challenge. then his eyes flick back up to yours—dark, wild, curious. he steps closer, just one step. then another. until he’s right in front of you again, and this time there’s no space. no teasing, no gaps. just you, caught between a truck door and the worst mistake you want to make.

he leans in. both hands come to rest on either side of your head. caging you in and claiming the air between you. “careful now,” he murmurs, voice rough. “you’re not the only one who likes to play.”

and then his knee presses forward, between your legs. you gasp. it’s not subtle, not even a little. he fits it there, deliberate and slow, until your thighs part just enough to make room for the solid weight of him. his thigh is strong and warm. your breath catches and your fingers twitch where they’re tangled in his shirt.

he’s watching your face. watching your mouth, like he’s trying to memorize the exact second you lose composure. but you don’t, you smile. then, slow and wicked, you roll your hips just a little against his thigh—enough to make him grunt, low in his throat, like he wasn’t ready for it. “you started it,” you say, feigning innocence. “don’t get shy now, cowboy.”

he exhales sharp. one of his hands drops and wraps tight around your waist, pulling you flush against him. your shorts ride up. the pressure of his thigh against you gets sharper, filthier, almost unbearable. “you think this is a joke?” he growls.

“no,” you breathe. “i think it’s foreplay.”

his hand tightens. he shifts his thigh just barely upward, grinding it between your legs, and you have to bite your lip to keep the sound in. he leans in, mouth ghosting over your ear. “i could make you come like this,” he says, voice like a sin you want to confess over and over. “right here, against my truck, with nothin’ but my thigh between your legs.”

you shiver, but you smile. “you talk a big game,” you whisper, lips brushing his jaw. “but so far all you’ve done is flex in tight jeans and give me blue balls.”

he lets out a sharp laugh, dangerous. then his hands drop to your hips, grip possessive, and he rolls you against his thigh again. this time harder and filthier. like he wants to see how far you’ll let it go. your knees almost buckle. your head hits the truck window. but your hands are in his hair now, pulling, tugging, dragging his face closer.

and still he doesn’t kiss you. you pant, flushed and desperate and mad as hell. he just smirks. “look at you,” he says. “makin’ a mess on me and i haven’t even touched you proper.”

you glare at him and your lip curls in frustration. “maybe you’re scared.”

he arches a brow. “of what?”

“of me.” you press down hard against his thigh again—your move now, your game—and you feel him tense. feel him curse under his breath like you’ve just won a round he didn’t even know he was playing. you lean in and whisper against his mouth: “i could ruin you.”

he inhales sharp. you swear you hear him mutter fuck. but still, still he doesn’t kiss you. he pulls back, eyes wild, chest rising and falling like he just ran a mile.

and then he steps away. leaves you there. aching and panting. blinking like you just came out of a trance. “one of these days, sweetheart,” he says, adjusting his belt like he needs a minute. “you’re gonna be the one beggin’.”

and then he climbs into the driver’s seat and drives away. you stare after him, thighs trembling, heart racing, and mutter:

“i’m gonna set his truck on fire.”

and jake sim spends the week trying not to think about you. which is stupid, because you’re everywhere. in his sheets, in his hands, in his mouth when he mutters fuck at two in the morning and fists his hair like it’ll shake you out of his head.

he sees you in the curve of a beer bottle. in the red of a stoplight. in the fucking grocery store, standing in front of a watermelon display like you invented sin.

he can’t focus. can’t sleep. can’t work. every time he bends over a fence or climbs into the truck, he hears your voice in his ear: i could ruin you. every time he closes his eyes, he sees your thighs wrapped around his fucking leg. he’s losing it. actually, clinically losing it.

and the worst part is that he let it happen. he swore he wouldn’t. told himself he wasn’t like the rest of them—the boys who lined up for your attention like fools in heat. he used to watch you tease and twist and toy with every man in town and laugh. not because he didn’t get it, because he did. but now he’s just another name on your list. and he hates it.

he’s a grown man. a cowboy, for christ’s sake. he should be immune to lip gloss and flirty banter and skirts short enough to send him to jail. but he’s not. and the worst part is that you know, you know what you’re doing. you know exactly how to stand, how to talk, how to glance up with that little tilt of your head like oops, did i break you again?

and he’s fucking gone. he’s a freak for it. a perv. he thinks about your mouth at church. he imagines your legs wrapped around his waist when he’s driving. he’s so far gone it’s pathetic.

so on thursday, when the thought of you cleaning up at the saloon alone hits him like a truck, he doesn’t fight it. he gets in the truck, drives like the devil’s chasing him. when he gets there, the bar is dark, empty. just the faint sound of clinking glasses and a broom dragging across the floor.

you’re behind the counter. sweaty and tired. loose hair falling around your face. still the hottest thing he’s ever fucking seen.

the door creaks open. you don’t look up. “we’re closed,” you call out, distracted.

then you lift your head, and you pause. your lips part. 

his boots hit the floor. he doesn’t say a word. just crosses the room in four heavy steps, reaches for your wrist, and pulls you in like he needs you to breathe. and then— he kisses you.

not sweet. not shy, not teasing. hot, open and filthy.

he groans when your mouth opens under his, when your fingers clutch his shirt like you’ve been waiting for this just as long. his hands are everywhere, your waist, jaw, the small of your back. he kisses like he’s mad about it, like this is a punishment.

your back hits the counter. your teeth knock. a glass falls off. and still, he kisses you like he’s trying to erase the space between you. 

he pulls back just enough to speak, breath hot on your cheek. “you win,” he mutters. “is that what you wanna hear?”

you’re panting, flushed. “not yet,” you whisper. “i like my man playing real hard to get,” you whisper, breath ghosting his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to tease.

and that’s the moment he snaps. his hands come up, cup your jaw like he’s trying to memorize it, and he kisses you hard, messy and desperate. and you moan, you can’t help it. he tastes like whiskey and salt and everything you’ve been dreaming about at three in the morning.

his hips press forward, tight against yours, grinding you back into the edge of the counter like he wants to leave a dent in your spine. and you grin against his lips. you reach back blindly, “you gonna keep kissing me like a saint,” you pant, pulling back, “or you gonna bend me over something, cowboy?”

his eyes go dark. “oh, you wanna act like a brat now?” he growls.

you smirk. “what gave it away?”

he grabs you, lifts you right off the floor and sets you down on a table like you weigh nothing. your legs part without hesitation and he steps between them, his hips hard against yours, and his hands gripping your thighs like he’s trying to decide which one he wants to ruin first. “look at you,” he mutters, eyes trailing down your body. “pretty little mouth, dirty little attitude.”

you tilt your head, all fake innocence. “you like it.”

he leans in close, mouth against your ear. “i’m gonna fuckin’ break you.”

your breath vanishes. his fingers trail up your thigh, slow, teasing, maddening. he doesn’t go where you want him, but just next to it, brushing the edges, watching you squirm. “i know what you need,” he murmurs. “you need someone to shut that mouth. teach you some fuckin’ manners.”

you wrap your legs around his waist. “you volunteering?”

he laughs, low and filthy. “baby, i’ve been applying for that job all month.” then he grinds forward, slow and mean, dragging a moan out of you that echoes across the empty bar. you gasp and clutch at his shoulders. he grabs your hips, presses them down, holds you there. “no running now,” he mutters. “you been beggin’ for this.”

you roll your hips up into his. “you liked it.”

he groans, kissing down your neck, biting just enough to make you gasp again. “liked it so much i nearly wrecked my truck thinkin’ about you.” his hand slips under your top. calloused fingers on your skin, rough and reverent all at once. he palms your chest like he’s claiming it. like he’s mad you let anyone else look. you arch into him, moaning. “so impatient,” he teases, voice a growl. “what happened to makin’ me beg, sweetheart?”

“shut up and fuck me.”

he smirks against your throat. “say please.”

you groan, kick your heels against his ass. “cowboy—”

“say it.”

you hiss, then lean in and bite his lip. “please.”

he pulls back just enough to smirk, breath hot against your lips. “please what?” he asks, voice low, gravel rough.

you glare at him, or at least, you try to. but your legs are wrapped around his waist, your hips aching for friction, and his hand is already creeping up your thigh like he’s got nowhere to be but inside you. so you say it, no shame. no power left to pretend. “please, fuck me, jakey.”

he groans loudly, like the words physically hit him. then he mutters something that sounds like jesus fucking christ, and crashes his mouth into yours. and this kiss is different. it is hungry and starving. he grinds against you, slow and hard, pressing you down into the table with the full weight of his body. your shirt rides up. your back arches. the wood creaks underneath like it might give out, and honestly—if it breaks, let it. you’ll thank it for its service.

his hands are everywhere. palming your thighs, squeezing your ass, gripping your waist like he owns it. “look at you,” he rasps, lips trailing down your throat. “fuckin’ dream girl of the county. all these poor bastards lining up for a smile, and here you are—legs open for me.”

you gasp and whimper and dig your nails into his shoulders. he presses his hips harder, grinds right against where you need him most. your head drops back, your moan echoes. “you love this,” he says, panting now. “bein’ up here where anyone could walk in. where anyone could see you gettin’ ruined by me.” you don’t answer, you can’t. “what happened to that bratty mouth, huh?” he growls, dragging his teeth along your jaw. “where’s all that sass now?”

“shut up,” you breathe. “just—please.”

“beggin’ again?” he taunts. “thought you didn’t do that.”

“i’m making an exception.”

he laughs, dark and hot, and grabs your hips tighter, pulling you to the edge of the table. “you should see yourself right now,” he mutters, undoing his belt with one hand. “look so fuckin’ pretty like this. so desperate.”

“you’re the one that came after me.”

“yeah,” he admits, lining himself up, voice breaking a little, “because i’m a goddamn fool for you.”

and then he pulls back. his hand wraps around your jaw, gentle but firm, tilting your face up to look at him. he’s flushed and panting. pupils blown wide. and his voice, when he speaks, is low and dangerous and thick with control he’s barely holding. “get on your knees.”

your heart stops and your grin widens. “you asking or telling me, cowboy?”

he presses his thumb into your cheek, leans down, kisses the corner of your mouth like he’s being nice before doing something awful. “i’m tellin��� you,” he mutters, “be a good girl and make me feel good.”

you blink slow, mouth open, pretending to think about it. “what’s in it for me?”

his hand slips down, fingers wrapping around your throat just enough to make you feel it—not choking, just owning. “my cock in your mouth,” he growls. “and maybe if you do it right, i’ll let you come later.”

your knees buckle, but your pride doesn’t. you hum, all fake sweetness. “guess i could use something to suck on.” you drop to the floor, knees hitting the sticky saloon wood like you belong there. he watches you, chest heaving and jaw tight. trying not to come just from the sight of you looking so cute on your knees for him. you look up at him, eyes wide, lips parted. “you nervous?” you tease.

he barks a laugh. “just waitin’ to see if the mouth that talks so much can finally do something useful.”

you pout. then reach for his belt, slow and dramatic, undoing it like it’s the last gift under a christmas tree. and when his cock springs free, hard, flushed, huge, your mouth waters. you glance up again. “you been thinkin’ about this, haven’t you?”

he hisses as you wrap your hand around him, thumb brushing the tip. “every fuckin’ night,” he admits, voice ragged. “jesus, i’d wake up hard just rememberin’ how you looked struttin’ around in those little shorts behind the bar.”

you stroke him once, twice, slow and sweet. then you lean forward, kiss the tip. just a whisper of a touch. he groans. his hand finds your hair, pulling it already. you drag your tongue along the underside, all the way down, then back up again. he swears, low and filthy. “look at you,” he rasps. “knees on the fuckin’ floor, pretty mouth full of me. you know how many men in this town would give their right hand for this?”

you hum around him. smile with your eyes, because you do know. and you love that it’s you doing this to him. so you take more of him in, then more. until he’s deep in your throat, and he’s gripping the edge of the table so tight you think he might snap it in half. “fuck,” he moans. “that’s it, sweetheart. just like that. takin’ me so fuckin’ good.”

his hips twitch forward. just a little, just enough to make you gag—on purpose, and he loves that. he loves the sound. he loves how messy your mouth is for him. so he starts to move in shallow thrusts. hand in your hair, not rough, but claiming. “you gonna let me come in your mouth, baby?” he groans. “gonna swallow it all, show me how good you are?”

you nod and moan, sucking harder, and that’s it. he gasps, his hips snap forward. his whole body shudders. he comes hard, hot and thick on your tongue, fingers tangled in your hair, voice wrecked. you swallow it all, slowly. wipe the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, like a brat.

you’re still on your knees, lips wet, tongue peeking out in satisfaction like you just finished dessert and might go back for seconds. he looks down at you, utterly wrecked. and then he laughs breathless and disbelieving. “jesus christ,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair like you just short-circuited every last nerve. “you’re gonna kill me.”

you grin, smug as sin. but then he leans down, and his strong arms slide under your shoulders, lifting you like you weigh nothing. you squeal, half-laughing, hands flying to grip his shirt. “hey—!”

“shut up,” he breathes. “my turn.”

he sets you down on the table again, right where you were before. but this time, he doesn’t kiss you yet. doesn’t even touch you. he just steps back, eyes dark and hungry. and says, “spread.”

you blink, chest rising. “what?”

he tilts his head, steps back in, hands firm on your knees. “you heard me, sweetheart. open up. now i’m gonna make you feel good.”

you part your thighs slow, watching his eyes drop, watching his breath hitch. you lean back on your elbows, head tilted, and he glances at the wet mark through your shorts. he drops to his knees, his hands grip your thighs, dragging you to the edge like he’s pulling you into hell with him. he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, slow and reverent, like you’re a prayer and a sin at the same time.

“you wet for me already?” he murmurs, hot breath brushing your core through your shorts.

you nod, breathless. “since you walked in.”

he grins. bites the soft skin just above your knee. “should’ve told me. i’d’ve come sooner.”

he yanks your shorts and panties down fast, like he��s impatient. because he probably is. so then—finally—he licks you. one long, slow stroke that makes your back arch off the table. you gasp. grab the edge and moan his name so soft it sounds like a confession.

and he devours you. not gentle, not slow. just hungry and precise, like he’s got something to prove. his tongue works you open, circles and flicks and drives you fucking wild. he hums when you buck your hips, groans when you moan. his grip on your thighs bruises. his tongue never stops. “so fuckin’ sweet,” he mumbles against you. “no wonder they all wanna taste.”

you whimper. he slides a finger in, then another. crooks them just right. your whole body tightens. your breath catches. “that’s it, baby,” he whispers. “ride my face. let go. give it to me.”

you do. you shatter, legs trembling, back arched, voice gone. you’re gasping his name, tugging his hair, begging him to stop or keep going—you don’t even know. he doesn’t stop. not until your whole body is shaking. not until your thighs twitch and your breathing turns ragged and your hand slaps the table in surrender.

then finally he pulls back with his mouth glistening with you. his smile is wrecked, his eyes wide and wild. he looks up at you like you just handed him the goddamn meaning of life. “holy fuck,” he whispers, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “you came so good for me, angel.”

you try to glare, you really do. but your limbs don’t work. your knees are jelly. your stomach’s still twitching in aftershocks. and then he stands, towering. glowing like he just found religion between your legs. and then he leans down, kisses your jaw, and says—soft and cocky— “think you can take one more?”

your eyes flutter open, you blink at him. “you’re insane.”

he grins and kisses the corner of your mouth. “that ain’t a no.”

you roll your eyes. but you’re already lifting your hips, already turning. and then his hands are on your waist, firm and steady, spinning you around until you’re bent over the table. your cheek presses to the cool wood. your arms stretch forward. “fuck,” you whisper.

he hums behind you, hands sliding up your back, bunching your shirt at your ribs. “look at you,” he mutters. “so goddamn ready. still drippin’ for me.” he leans over you, chest to your back, mouth at your ear. “tell me you want it.”

you inhale shakily. “i want it.”

his hand slides between your thighs. fingers glide through your wetness. “tell me who’s gonna make you come again.”

you gasp. “you are.”

“say my name, sweetheart.”

“you, jakey.”

he groans. lines himself up. and then he pushes in. you gasp, you arch and whimper. his hand presses between your shoulder blades, keeping you down, controlling the pace. his hips move slow and deep, dragging a moan out of you every time he bottoms out. “so tight,” he pants. “like you’re fuckin’ made for me.”

you moan his name again, cheek still to the table, one hand reaching back to grab at his wrist. he laughs low and feral. “no runnin’ now,” he growls. “you said you could take one more.”

his thrusts get faster and harder. the table starts to creak. your moans start to sound like pleas. and he’s loving every second. he leans in, bites your shoulder, mutters against your skin, “gonna fuck you so dumb you forget how to sass.” you gasp and grin. you push back against him just to be a brat. he grabs your hips, pulls you back onto him hard. “jesus,” he hisses. “you like this, don’t you? bein’ used like this.”

“i like you like this,” you pant. “all obsessed.”

he grunts, and slaps your ass with a sting that makes your knees wobble. you yelp. and then he laughs, breathless, wicked. “i’m not lettin’ anyone else touch you again,” he mutters, voice cracked open, raw in your ear. his hand comes down to your hip, gripping. “this?” he growls, grinding into you harder, deeper. “this fuckin’ mouth, these thighs, this perfect little pussy— all mine.”

you moan, loud and shameless. he leans in, mouth hot on your neck, and his hand slips around you, fingers finding your clit like they never forgot it. he rubs in tight, fast circles, exactly how your body begs for. “come for me again, baby,” he pants. “show me how fuckin’ pretty you fall apart.”

and you do. you break, and your cry punches through the empty bar, your walls clenching so tight around him it nearly knocks the air from his lungs. your hands scrabble for the edge of the table, your face buried, your voice gone, just moans, sobs, his name like a prayer you can’t stop saying. and then—still shaking, still high on it— you whisper, broken and filthy: “inside. jake. please—come inside.”

he fucking loses it. his hips stutter, his breath catches, his hand grabs your ass roughly. “fuck, baby—” his head drops to your back. his rhythm falters, he’s right there. “you want me to fill you up?” he growls, desperate. “want me leavin’ you dripping with me?”

you nod, frantic. “yes—yes, please—i want it, i want all of it—”

he groans, loud. his thrusts go messy. erratic. wild. “goddamn, you’re gonna ruin me,” he gasps. and then he comes, deep and hard. body shuddering as he spills inside you, hips pressed tight, your name falling from his lips like a sin he’s finally ready to be forgiven for.

his hand stays in your hips. his forehead pressed to your back. both of you panting. shaking. wrecked. and you smile, eyes closed, face against the table, voice barely above a whisper:

“told you you were obsessed.”

he laughs—hoarse, drunk on you—and kisses your spine. “shut up,” he murmurs. “you fuckin’ love it.”

after, at your place, after he wrecked you in every possible way, you watch him fall asleep beside you, arm slung across your waits like he is still trying to stake a claim. cowboy hat on the floor. love bite on his throat. your lipstick on his chest.

you smile to yourself. “i like my men playing hard to get,” you whisper.

lucky for you, he never stood a chance.

author’s note: soooo i saw this edit of jake in full cowboy mode and lost every functioning brain cell i had left. then i watched manchild by sabrina carpenter and went wait what if… so this fic accidentally became the most porn-with-plot thing i’ve ever written. but i regret nothing. cowboy jake has a chokehold on me and the saloon girl in my brain wouldn’t shut up until he was wrecked and begging. anyway, yee-fucking-haw 🤠

my masterlist // perma taglist: @rairaiblog @nqdirr @iyoonjh @saeris-world @jayparked @solonenova

© all rights reserved @/heejamas — do not repost, copy, translate, or modify my works without explicit permission. these are works of fiction and are not meant to represent real-life actions, thoughts, or personalities of any public figures

[kxsagi]

Can you do bllk boys finding out reader is TikTok famous?

“𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐤”

a/n: YESSSSSSSS

thank you to everyone who requested that is being so patient with me 😔🙏❤️

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, karasu tabito, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, bachira meguru, kaiser michael

isagi yoichi

he finds out in the most disrespectful way possible: one of his teammates shows him an edit of YOU. 

“yo isagi, look at this baddie–” 

“bro that’s my GIRLFRIEND.” 

he's in full crisis mode. staring at the screen. blinking. buffering. 

you’re in the video looking hot, lip gloss on and love potions playing. 

his jaw is on the floor. “WHEN DID YOU FILM THIS?!” 

and then it gets worse. because he opens your page and it’s all videos of you doing cute, trendy things while he’s in the background being... tragically un-self-aware. 

there’s one where you’re like: “this is my bf! he thinks using a dishwasher is cheating!” 

the comments are just: “you’re dating a golden retriever with no object permanence 😭” “does he know he’s not a roommate?” 

he’s sitting there holding your phone like it just told him santa isn’t real. 

he wants to be mad, but he can’t stop scrolling. 

“wait… when did you film this one. i was shirtless. i was brushing my teeth.” 

“yoichi that got 3.5 million views. say thank you.” 

now he’s all paranoid. opens every cabinet slowly. peeks into the mirror like it’s watching him. 

“are you filming me RIGHT NOW? be honest.” 

itoshi rin

he notices your phone blowing up with notifications at 7 AM. 

he's like, “why are you getting 100 texts?” 

you say, “i must’ve forgotten to mute notifications again. they’re probably mostly from tik tok.” 

he raises one eyebrow. doesn’t say anything. 

checks your profile. 

ten million followers. verified. 

you’re on his screen doing skincare and talking softly like “good morning angels ☕” while he walks past in the background, blurry and angry-looking, clutching a protein bar like he’s going to war. 

“why am i in all of these looking like i just got drafted?” 

you’re laughing, but he’s seriously scrolling. 

you have aesthetic outfit vids, study vlogs, povs, but he’s in half of them looking emotionally unavailable and chronically tired. 

the comments are like: “who’s the sleep paralysis demon in the grey hoodie?” “he’s hot but terrifying. what’s his name. i want him.” 

“BLOCK HER.” 

now every time you film, he’s like “don’t show my face.” 

two weeks later: “actually, do i look better in the black shirt or the white one?” 

he starts casually walking behind you while you’re filming, fixing his hair and pretending he’s just “getting water.” 

sir. you are posing. 

itoshi sae

he finds out because his own fans tag him. 

there’s a tik tok where you're sipping a drink and captioned it: “he doesn’t like fries but he likes me.” 

and the comments are in shambles: “i just gasped out loud.” “she pulled THE sae itoshi?” 

he immediately opens your page. 

you're doing cute vlogs, GRWMs, and there’s even one with the caption “pov: convincing my emotionally repressed soccer bf to go on a date with me.” 

he’s in the background being dragged by the wrist like a sims character. 

“did you… record me getting in the car… and add background music?” 

“yeah. it’s romantic.” 

the worst part? you have 2.8 million followers. 

and the comments are thirsty. “how does she get him to look at her like that 😭” “they’re the blueprint.” 

at first he acts unbothered. but suddenly he’s shirtless, standing by the window while you’re filming. 

“don’t zoom in. just catch the lighting. look natural.” 

he absolutely helps you now. adds captions like: “he may not talk much but he opens jars really well 🫶” 

congrats. you’ve turned him into a soft launch enthusiast. 

karasu tabito

you offhandedly mention you make tik toks and he’s like “oh word? what’s your @?” 

you tell him. 

he goes pale. 

“WAIT A DAMN MINUTE.” 

he’s seen you on his fyp. MULTIPLE TIMES. 

has definitely commented on your vids once with something embarrassing like “mommy?? sorry.” 

he is STUNNED. 

“you’re that girl?! the one who walks through college campuses in sunglasses looking like a runway model?!?” 

“that’s literally just me walking to class.” 

“okay but you added the music. and you had coffee. it was sexy.” 

he instantly becomes your camera man, hype man, and marketing manager. 

“try this audio. no trust me. your face + this sound = 4 million views easy.” 

he lives in your comment section, defending your honor: “she’s taken. i know because i’m hiding under her bed rn.” 

makes his own account just to duet your vids like, “imagine being her boyfriend… oh wait.” 

he eats it up. wants couple content. dancing, skits, thirst traps. 

you accidentally made him addicted to fame. 

nagi seishiro

you say “babe, i’m kinda tik tok famous” and he blinks at you. 

“cool.” 

ten minutes later: “wait what’s a tik tok?” 

you show him. and the realization settles in like a thunderstorm. 

“why do you have eight million followers.” 

“idk people like me being cute and organized while you rot in the background.” 

one of your vlogs is literally just him passed out with a pillow over his head while you make a smoothie. 

comments are like: “he’s so real for napping through life.” “i’m in love with this lazy man.” 

he becomes a cryptid on your page. people ask where he is like he’s bigfoot. 

then boom, he shows up in a vid, half-asleep on your lap while you paint your nails. 

“you’re like my emotional weighted blanket,” you say. 

he shrugs. “yeah i’m comfy.” 

does not understand tik tok fame but is lowkey smug about it. 

“guess you’re lucky to have me as your nap buddy, huh.” 

mikage reo

he already knew. 

in fact, he’s your #1 fan. 

not only has he seen all your vids, he’s in the top comments with full unhinged energy. “drop the skincare routine AND the bf 😭” “she’s glowing bc i pay her bills <3” 

also has a burner account where he responds to hate comments like: “funny how you’re mad with 37 followers and no profile pic. dw, we all know you’re ugly irl.” 

LOVES filming with you. 

“wait babe let’s do that couples filter. no, wait. i need to win this one.” 

he takes couple tik toks very seriously. 

if a transition doesn’t hit? re-record. 

if his hair is slightly off? start over. 

“babe, i cannot go viral with a COWLICK.” 

tries to choreograph you into couple dances. brings props. 

you’re like “reo this was supposed to be a 10-second outfit video.” 

“yeah but if we hit this angle with this lighting?? 1.5 mil views. trust.” 

bachira meguru

accidentally finds out when your phone reads out a notification in siri voice: “your video got 5.6 million views.” 

he gasps. snatches your phone like a victorian wife just found your love letters. 

“EXPLAIN.” 

you show him your account and he is in AWE. 

you’re like a fairy princess on screen and he’s in the background like a rabid forest creature. 

one of your vids has him eating cereal at 2 AM in total darkness and you captioned it “my sleep paralysis demon is back.” 

he’s obsessed. 

starts filming you like a wildlife documentary: “here we see the rare and beautiful girlfriend in her natural habitat. wow. stunning.” 

gets mad jealous when someone comments “i want her to choke me.” 

clings to you in the next video and yells “SHE’S TAKEN” in the background while wearing a snuggie. 

will absolutely go viral for accidentally backflipping over the couch during a couple challenge. 

kaiser michael

you’re on his fyp. multiple times. 

and at first he just smirks like, “she looks like my girl.” 

then he sees a video of you roasting your “overconfident football bf who thinks he’s hot stuff” and goes: “NO WAY. IS THAT ME???” 

spirals. 

“why do you have 3 million followers. why didn’t i know this. WHO IS YOUR MANAGER.” 

sees a comment that says: “he’s pretty but she’s the prize 🫶” 

throws a pillow at the wall. 

immediately makes his own tik tok account called @kaisergf #1 and starts replying to people like: “she snores.” “i’m the prize actually.” 

makes thirst traps out of spite. 

“if you can be famous, i can be famous-er.” 

but you catch him watching your videos and smiling like a dork. 

“... shut up. i’m just checking your engagement rate.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[5sospenguinqueen]

Surprise! | Charles Leclerc x Haas! Reader

Summary: Surprise! Charles got married without any of the Grid knowing. Surely his new wife can’t be the one driver who practically ignores his existence. 

Warnings: fluff, an inability to fully understand black cat energy 

Requested: yes by anon. apologies but it wouldn’t let me view the pins so i hope this matches your vision

Faceclaim: Leah Halton, and some random pinterest pics

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

its_yn just posted

liked by kevinmagnussen, lance_stroll and others

its_yn belgium 2024

8,558 comments

charles_leclerc lovely necklace

→ its_yn thanks. 

→ user1 he tries to hard but she makes it clear that she does not like him

→ user2 can you blame her if that’s what he counts as flirting liked by arthur_leclerc 

user3 caption really gives us the bare minimum of her media contract

user4 love how we get the basics from her. like yes, honey, give us nothing

kevinmagnussen i play a mean harmonica

→ its_yn sure

→ alex_albon she told me her ears were bleeding

→ kevinmagnussen i’d say she hurt my feelings but what else is new?

→ user5 can’t even be nice to her teammate 

haasf1team our two favourite people

user6 she gives off such black cat energy 

user7 people think she’s rude but she’s actually really shy with a dry sense of humour

→ user8 this! when you meet her, she’s so lovely but she goes really red

user9 we stan a low energy girly 

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by carlossainz55, lewishamilton and others

charles_leclerc spa day before the summer break

9,660 comments

user10 not charles posting a pic of him puling the same pose he hit when yn ignored him at the driver’s parade

→ user11 we love a self aware king

→ user12 no because the ducked head and the hair fiddle is literally what he did when she turned her back on him

user13 the things i would do to be y/n. i don’t know how she can resist 

→ user14 it’s almost funny because he tries so hard to flirt with her and she just doesn’t respond

user15 i’m not being delusional but i don’t think y/n was ignoring him. i think he made her shy

→ user16 i support you 100% because he grinned at her, she immediately turned and it looked like she was trying not to smile liked by charles_leclerc

→ user17 charles is just as delulu as we are 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

its_yn just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and others

its_yn summer break

6,099 comments

landonorris a smile would be nice

→ its_yn nothing in my life to smile about

→ charles_leclerc could i change that?

user1 i love that charles always comments on her posts and she barely ever responds

→ user2 she never even likes his posts, aside from the monaco one 

→ user3 the only one that matters 

arthur_leclerc he’s too busy freaking out about the flower being red; his symbolic colour

→ scuderiaferrari yes, drag his ass

→ haasf1team we also have red fyi

→ scuderiaferrari don’t make this about you 

user4 max and y/n are literally the definition of giving only what their contract demands

user5 guys, she’s on a yacht. who is well known for their yacht? charles leclerc 

→ user6 they’re millionaires. they probably all have one

→ user7 she said in a recent interview that she didn’t

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by its_yn, maxverstappen1 and others 

charles_leclerc my summer break was one to remember 

16,334 comments

user8 why has he used y/n’s filter on these pictures?

→ user9 coincidence, i think not

→ user10 she doesn’t own the filter

→ user9 yes she does

user11 wait, y/n liked this? this is only the second post of his that she’s ever liked 

→ user12 this feels significant and i can’t quite tell why

carlossainz55 what is this? you did not tell me about this?

→ carlossainz55 charles, hello?

alex_albon so our sim racing together meant nothing to you??

georgerussell63 we milk goats together and you don’t tell me you’re engaged

→ charles_leclerc *married

→ landonorris and you were the goats !

pierregasly i get not telling the others but to not even tell me??

→ charles_leclerc you gossip!

→ pierregasly with you! 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

its_yn just posted

liked by pierregasly, landonorris and others

its_yn you 🖤

10,144 comments

user1 pardon?

user2 so we don’t even know the basic info about this lady but we now know she has a partner?

→ user3 must be serious if she’s willing to share it with us

user4 can’t even make a joke about charles leclerc crying in his room because he’s married??

user5 i genuinely deluded myself in thinking charles and y/n would end up together but now he’s eloped and she’s soft launching some rando

user6 i want to live in the multiverse where charles and y/n are together

user7 but charles and y/n were meant to become the manifestation of the sunshine/grumpy trope

user8 it's the fact that arthur isn't even commenting/teasing charles

→ user9 we've truly lost what could've been

user10 is that an engagement ring??

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by alex_albon, f1 and others 

charles_leclerc what’s better than one leclerc? two! now that the season is done, we can go on our honeymoon baby

18,147 comments

its_yn ❤️❤️

→ user11 oh so she is just like that

→ user12 had us convinced she didn’t like our boy but she was so in love with him that she couldn't speak to him in public without blushing 

→ user13 she used his colour for the hearts instead of hers! 

→ user14 she’s so down bad 

landonorris omg we have an actual smile from y/n? the world must be ending 

→ its_yn shut up. let me be happy 

→ kevinmagnussen didn’t know you knew how to be

→ its_yn this is why you weren’t invited 

lilymhe lost my girl to a man who goes vroom

→ alex_albon excuse me?

→ charles_leclerc excuse me?

→ its_yn @/lilymhe 💋

scuderiaferrari can we hire your wife to make us more of those jackets?

→ haasf1team she’s already hired as our driver??

→ sucderiaferrari i think we’ve already proven that we get access to all leclerc’s. we’ll build her a seat or something

user15 everyone say thank you charles because he’s actually giving us loads of content of our girl, who usually gives us nothing

→ user16 and he’s making her more sociable, look how many times she’s commented on this post alone 

pierregasly i wish i was surprised but i knew i caught you kissing months ago! i just didn’t think she would marry you

→ charles_leclerc you have hurt my feelings 

→ its_yn @/pierregasly count your days

→ pierregasly i miss when you didn’t talk 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Requests open but slow

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty @justaf1girl @piastri-fvx @teamnovalak

[flwrstqr]

警告 : ❪ VALENTINES ❫ PUBLIC DISPLAY AFFECTION ── 𝗂'𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾. 𝗂 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒, 𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝗏𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖾.

𝓲. showing public displays of affection with enhypen

❪ 日语 ❫ : enhypen & fem!rea 1OOO ❜ skinship, petnames kissing ⎯ fluff head canons one shot ˊᯅˋ & click / archive

notes. . 다니 ⸝⸝ happy valentines day everyone~ hope you feel loved when reading!! my second valentines on tumblr (> <)

LEE HEESEUNG

heeseung has no shame, absolutely none, and it shows when you’re standing in line at a coffee shop, pretending not to notice the way his hand rests lightly on your waist. “you know,” he begins, leaning in closely, “if the barista doesn't call you the prettiest thing they've seen all day, i might have to correct them.” you roll your eyes, biting back a grin, but he catches it anyway, his smirk widening. “ah, there it is. my favorite smile,” he teases, voice low, like he’s telling you a secret meant for only the two of you. people are definitely staring now, but he doesn’t care. “heeseung,” you mutter, half-pleading, half-laughing, as his fingers trail down to interlock with yours. “what? just telling the truth, angel,” he says, grinning shamelessly, and somehow, even though you want to hide, you never really mind.

PARK JAY

"angel!" jay's voice echoes through the store, loud enough that heads turn, but you’re already used to it—used to the way he calls for you like you’re the only person in the world. you peek up from the display of luxury bags he insisted on buying you, only to find him grinning at you from across the store, holding up two pairs of heels. "which one, baby?" he asks, and before you can answer, he’s already walking over, wrapping an arm around your waist. "actually, you’re getting both, sweetheart." you roll your eyes, but your heart flips anyway, just like it does every time he effortlessly calls you by pet names in public, unbothered by the stares. "jay, let’s get something to eat after this," you hums, as jay presses a quick kiss to your temple. "whatever you want, my love." and really, how could you ever mind when he’s just so, so perfect?

SIM JAKE

"baby," jake whines, arms wrapping around your waist from behind as you’re browsing through a rack of clothes. his chin rests on your shoulder, and before you can even react, he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. "you've been looking at this for so long," he pouts, swaying you side to side in his hold. you huff a laugh, but before you can respond, he turns your face slightly and plants another kiss—this time on your lips. "jake," you whisper, glancing around, but he just grins, completely unbothered. "what? i missed you," he murmurs, kissing your forehead, then your nose, then the corner of your lips. "missed me? we've been together the whole time," you say, exasperated. he only hums, linking his fingers with yours as he tugs you closer. "doesn't matter," he mumbles, kissing your temple. "i just wanna love on my baby, is that a crime?"

PARK SUNGHOON

"give me that," sunghoon says, already taking the shopping bags from your hands before you can protest. you blink up at him, watching as he effortlessly holds everything—your purse included—like it’s second nature. "sunghoon, i can carry my own stuff," you huff, but he just gives you a look, the one that means don’t even try. "why would you when i’m right here, baby?" he deadpans, adjusting the bags in one hand so he can reach out and tuck your hair behind your ear with the other. "at least let me hold my purse—" "no." his tone is final, but there’s a small smile playing on his lips as he takes your hand instead, lacing your fingers together. "just hold onto me, okay?" he murmurs, squeezing your hand as he leads you forward. and really, how could you ever argue with that?

KIM SUNOO

"baby, hurry!" sunoo whines, tugging at your hand as he weaves through the crowded street with practiced ease, practically dragging you along. his fingers are warm, intertwined with yours. "we need to get there before the line gets too long!" you barely have time to process where “there” even is before he’s pulling you along again. he looks back every few steps, grinning, cheeks slightly flushed from the cold. whenever the crowd gets too dense, he squeezes your hand twice—his little way of checking in. at crosswalks, he swings your joined hands playfully, humming some tune under his breath, and when you finally slow down in front of the café he was so determined to reach, he presses a quick kiss to your knuckles. "see? told you we'd make it," he says smugly, still holding your hand like he’ll never let go.

YANG JUNGWON

"you're cold," jungwon states matter-of-factly, already shrugging off his jacket before you can protest. you barely get a word out before he drapes it over your shoulders, his hands lingering just a little longer to adjust the collar properly. "you should’ve told me earlier." his voice is soft, barely above a whisper, but there’s something so undeniably warm about the way he looks at you. you wrap the oversized jacket tighter around yourself, the scent of his cologne lingering in the fabric, and he chuckles, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. then casually laces his fingers with yours, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. he swings your intertwined hands slightly, his thumb grazing over your knuckles, and when you try to tease him about being so soft, he only grins, leaning in just enough to murmur, "only for you, love."

NISHIMURA RIKI

“guess you’re stuck with me, baby,” riki drawls, already tugging you down before you can protest—not that you ever do. his arms loop around your waist, effortlessly pulling you onto his lap like it’s second nature. it is. “riki,” you sigh, not out of embarrassment but habit, settling against him as his chin drops onto your shoulder. “what? you’d rather stand?” he grins, tilting his head so his lips ghost over your ear. “nah, you love this.” a chuckle rumbles in his chest when you don’t deny it. “see? you fit perfect.” his fingers drum lazily against your hip. across the table, someone raises a brow, but you barely blink—meanwhile, riki revels in their reactions. “jealous?” he teases, smirking at them, then at you. “sorry, but my baby gets vip treatment.” you roll your eyes, but when his hand finds yours, you squeeze back.

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

──── FIRST KISSES, SECOND CHANCES . ↳ one shot // also part of the no doubt series !

✎ᝰ .ᐟ aka he's this close to passing out because you're way too pretty and he wants to kiss you so bad—but he's an idiot, a loser in love, and totally losing his mind over you.

── sim jaeyun x f!reader ౨ৎ wc. 985 ⌗ fluff, kisskiss, jake is this close to going insane, mentions of jake wanting to die but not literally─poor guy is just losing his mind over y/n

↳ IMPORTANT NOTE .ᐟ ── this is part of my no doubt series ─ a sequel series of short drabbles that take place after the events of my fic no doubt, and show jake & reader's relationship throughout their first year together (& how jake wins her trust & love back hehe) ── THIS CAN BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT, however, there will be some easter eggs if you've read no doubt before!

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── omg tytyty everyone for the love with this series so far !!! i actually love jakeyn so much im so invested in this in ways that are highkey unhealthy...ANYWAYS! one of jake & yn's many firsts! writing this actually made me cheese so hard god im so single pls. jake is also like borderline unwell HAHA

It’s the kind of day where life feels like it’s straight out of a movie.

Soft sunlight, the perfect temperature, a gentle breeze, birds chirping. 

Perfect.

And yet—Jake wants to shrivel up into a hole and die.

The two of you are just lying there, propped up on your sides across from one another on the plush picnic blanket, an array of snacks and sandwiches (that Jake definitely didn’t wake up at 7AM to buy from the corner bakery you like so much in fear they would sell out before he had the chance to get them) scattered between you two, and you’re laughing at something he said—and god, he doesn’t even remember what he said—when it hits him.

And oh my god, it hits him hard.

He can’t think straight anymore.

Your eyes are sparkling like they always do when you laugh, your face is glowing with that effortless smile that makes him want to explode.

The way your hair blows slightly in the wind—how it catches the light in a way that makes him swear the sun only shines to make you glow. How your laugh just does something to him that makes it feel like the whole world stopped just so he could hear it.

And it’s all too much.

Jake feels his heart rate spike, his chest tighten, and before he knows it, he’s staring at your lips—just your lips—and your words are starting to sound like mush.

God, he wants to kiss you.

Like, really kiss you.

And the thought alone makes him feel like his heart’s about to break through his ribcage and find its way out of his chest.

But then, of course—the voice of reason pops in.

The same, annoying, one that always shows up right when he lets himself want this too much. The same one that fights him in this very, very common battle…almost daily.

Is this even a good idea? What if you’re not ready? What if it’s just too much, too soon for you?

What if he completely ruins everything before he even gets the chance to have it?

“Hey.”

Jake jolts out of his thoughts. You’re staring at him now, an amused smile playing at your lips as you nudge his arm.

“You okay?”

Jake blinks.

Forces his eyes back to your own (not her lips, Jake, not her lips, NOT HER LIPS).

Then, he clears his throat, shifting slightly as he tries his best to act normal.

“Yeah. Yeah, um, just—,” he places his sandwich down, his hands shaking slightly—god, Jake, “Just…still a little hungry.”

A beat of silence.

He immediately mentally smacks himself because, what the hell, Jake?

You raise an eyebrow.

“Jake, you literally just had a sandwich in your hands.”

“…Right, yeah. Right.”

Another beat.

Then—

You giggle.

Soft. Breathless. Perfect.

And Jake?

It ruins him.

He wants to jump off a cliff.

His heart is hammering, his vision is starting to go a little fuzzy, and he’s pretty sure he’s a solid two business seconds away from either a) passing out, or b) spontaneously combusting—whichever comes first.

He can’t focus. He can't think. He just—

He needs to kiss you.

Like, right now. Like, he literally cannot hold it together anymore.

So, without thinking—without giving himself any more time to overthink it—he leans in. Just slightly.

Your eyes widen, his breath catches, because—you’re so close and he swears you can probably hear his heart beating.

He smells your shampoo, his palms are sweating, and he’s definitely about to pass out, but all he can do is stare at your lips, then at your eyes. Then back at your lips again.

Jake doesn’t even think. He doesn’t even say anything. He just does it.

His lips press softly against yours—so gently at first that it’s barely there, as if he’s testing the waters, as if he’s expecting you to pull away.

But you don’t.

You don’t pull away.

And his heart explodes.

It’s instant. Everything falls into place in that very moment, every ounce of tension in his body immediately melts away.

Jake can’t help but sigh into the kiss, finally allowing himself to give in completely, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, holding you as if you’re something delicate—something so beautiful he could never dream of ruining.

And then you do something that completely, utterly, wrecks him—

You kiss him back.

Softly, almost shyly at first, like you’re just as overwhelmed as he is. But then—oh god—

Your hand goes up and your fingers curl into his collar, tugging ever so slightly, pulling him in even deeper, and Jake 100% knows he never wants to go back to what life was like before this moment.

He’s dizzy. Weightless. Completely and entirely yours in every possible way.

He also forgets how to breathe.

But that doesn’t matter.

Nothing else in the world matters except this kiss, except you.

Jake feels himself smiling into it—because, oh god, this is actually happening—and hears you giggle slightly as you finally pull away, a little breathless.

He’s starstruck, paralyzed. He’s still staring at your lips in disbelief, then back to your eyes, then back at your lips before blinking himself back to reality.

“That was—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“That was way too long coming, don’t you think?” you tease, your eyes sparkling, lips still tingling from the kiss.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he grins, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “But don’t worry. I’ll make up for lost time.”

You roll your eyes, but—there’s something about the way you look at him that makes him feel like the luckiest guy on the planet.

“I’m holding you to that, Jakey.”

And then—

You tilt your head up and press another soft, fleeting kiss to his lips before pulling back with the softest smile.

Yup.

He’s definitely the luckiest guy on the planet.

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[mewhenimanangel]

need that, hamzahthefantastic

prev pt 3*

—synopsis. hamzah invites you over to be in their new video

—warnings!: freaky uti, dry humping, undressing

notes 🫧: the fight was so tuff, i’m a die hard noob

—🐞

you parked your car outside hamzah’s house, fixing your lip gloss and zipping up your sweater before going to knock on his door.

him and martin invited you to be in one of their sims videos since mandy was on vacation and they knew you played as well.

it’s been around two weeks since you and hamzah made out in his car. since then, you’d been texting a lot more and you hung out twice with mandy and martin. though, you haven’t done anything to continue what he started.

hamzah answered the door with a grin, “come on in boi, we haven’t started playing yet. martin’s still connecting the camera and the mic” he closed the door behind you.

you felt something brush against your leg, looking down to see his cat rubbing itself on your leg. “awwww he’s so cute” you reached down to see if he’d let you pick him up.

when he did you held him in your arms and rubbed behind its ear. “which one is this?” you asked hamzah. “this is blue. red’s probably upstairs somewhere clawing at something.” he said, reaching over your arm to pet blue.

“i had to put a child lock on my fridge cause they figured out how to open it bruh” he shook his head.

you giggled looking at him with a smile.

“oh hey y/n, didn’t know you were here already. i just finished setting up the camera” martin said. “heyy” you put blue down on the floor, following martin.

“you ready to get your sims on?” he asked. “try freaking born ready” you giggled, hamzah following behind you.

you sat off to the side on the couch in hamzah’s office while they started the video. “hello everynyan-” hamzah interrupted him “dude what” “it’s like a meme like have you ever seen it? it’s like oh my gahhh” martin awkwardly repeated the video, hamzah stifling a laugh. “anyways we’re back and better than frigging ever” martin started off.

“now it has been a while-“ “definitely been a while-“ “right, a while since our regularly scheduled programming” hamzah said. “i hope you guys enjoyed the fight, we worked super hard literally for like six months”

“and you may realize we’re not in our usual spot, wanna tell them why that is?” martin said. “yes we are, we’re in my house this time because mandy’s on vacation and martin, feeling like a sad little lonely boy wanted to come over and play with me”

“yes mandy is gone. she is in spain right now because she doesn’t love me anymore. you know what they say, ‘go to spain when your lover’s a pain’. that’s why she hasn’t proposed to me yet in the big year of twenty twenty-five” martin went on. “literally nobody says that”

“but speaking of mandy, today we’re playing the sims. something we haven’t done in a long time and we need a little bit of a refresher” “yes, the sims is a girl game and since we don’t have mandy, we brought back up” hamzah added.

“yes, we obviously cannot play this game ourselves so we brought in another expert” they looked at each other before counting down from 3 and snapping their fingers. you knew they were gonna put some silly transition effect over this.

hamzah got up to get another chair for you “you good?” he asked you, making sure you were comfortable. and you nod your head before sitting between them. “hellurr. yes i am mandy’s back up today. because obviously, they don’t know what they’re doing so im taking over.”

“dude what is it with girls and the sims. only girls know how to play the sims” martin and hamzah riffed while you logged into your sims account.

“now this is your first time on here y/n, how do you feel in the presence of such greatness” martin asked. “well im honored to be on but i don’t know about ‘greatness’” you joked.

after two hours of creating sims and making them kill, cheat, fornicate, and find love, they ended the video. “banger video alert” hamzah turned the computer off. “uhh yeah that was really good if i do say so myself.” you pat yourself on the back.

the three of you lounged around hamzah’s living room for another hour after that. “are you guys hungry?” hamzah asked “i was gonna order some food” “actually i still have some packing to do for my flight tomorrow” martin sighed while playing with red. “oh shit right, i forgot” hamzah shrugged.

“i’m gonna head out now bro i’ll see you next week” he dapped hamzah up before doing the same to you. hamzah followed him out before closing the door behind him.

“i could eat” you shrugged and hamzah smiled. he pulled his phone out and ordered chick-fil-a, adding in your order.

you sat criss crossed on his couch as blue jumped into your lap, snuggling up against you and purring. “his ass definitely likes you” hamzah chuckled.

“do you want one?” he asked, coming back from his bedroom with a little jar of edibles. “sure” you reached to grab one with your nails.

hamzah grabbed one too and you tapped them together in a ‘cheers’ motion before eating them.

you soured your face and gagged “okay these are nasty oh my god” you laughed. “yeah they taste like butt but they do the job. the food should be here in like twenty minutes” he said, joining you on the couch.

you helped him review the footage from the video before he sent it to their editor. by now the edible was beginning to kick in and you were growing hungrier by the minute. his door bell rung and he got up to answer the door.

he came back holding the bags of food up with a smile on his face and plopped down onto the couch, this time much closer to you, legs and arms touching.

“fuck i’m starving. is that shit kicking in for you yet?” he asked, handing you your sandwich and fries. “oh it is” you grinned.

“have you ever had the mac and cheese?” he asked you. “no i usually go for the fries” “okay here you gotta try it.” he took some on his fork and put it in front of your mouth, paying close attention to the way your lips wrapped around the fork. “right?” he nod his head at your reaction.

“wait here, you’ve got some cheese on your mouth” he said, brushing your lip off with a napkin. “oh..oops” you giggled through your slowed words.

the two of you tore through your food, turning on family guy in the background. “that was so fucking good” you looked at him, eyes low and red.

“right…..i’m stuffed.” you slowly sipped on your milkshake. “do you ever think about what they do with the cut out pieces of fries?” you asked, just chatting. “i always wonder but they probably just throw them away.” he added.

you leaned back into the couch, cross legged, knee resting atop of hamzah’s as he put his arm on the back of the chair behind you.

he slowly rubbed your bare shoulder that peeked from under your hoodie that was falling off. you leaned your head back, resting it on his arm before looking at him.

“so, are we just never gonna talk about it again?” you addressed the elephant in the room. “hm?” he looked at you. “the kiss, are we just gonna act like it didn’t happen?”

“no of course not, i just wasn’t sure if i had made you uncomfortable so i didn’t wanna push anything again” he shrugged. “hamzah i kissed you back for a reason. i wanted it” you reassured. “and i still do” you said, looking away for a second.

he grabbed your chin, turning your face back to his before kissing you. you leaned into the kiss, rubbing your nails at the back of his neck.

the room filled with your mutual satisfied sounds, hamzah pushing his hand up under your sweater. he laid you down against the couch arm, keeping himself steady atop of you.

he slowly pulled the zip down, taking off your sweater off, you willed yourself to follow his lead, wrapping your arms around him. he broke the kiss, “you good, right?” he asked. “yeah, keep going. i want you, hamzah” you reassured. he kissed you again before lining kisses down your jawline and throat. he sucked down on your skin “wait don’t leave any hickeys” you said through a moan.

“too late” he let out a breathy laugh, making you giggle. hamzah let out a soft noise at the feeling of your nails rubbing through his hair. he slowly eased his up under your tank top, reaching up he grabbed a handful of bra. “here, hang on” you sat up, taking off your shirt and throwing it by your sweater. you fiddled with your bra clasp and eased the straps off your shoulders, letting your boobs rest.

hamzah stared at them, mouth agape. “that was a push up bra by the way, so don’t be too disappointed” you joked. “how would i be disappointed. you’re fucking hot” he pulled you atop of him and kissed you, hands firm on your ass.

he kissed down the middle of your chest before his mouth latched on. you sighed in satisfaction when he rolled his tongue.

you subconsciously grinded your hips on his, feeling him grow. “fuck” you winced. you stayed in that position for a while, dry humping each other as he kissed and sucked all over your upper body. you felt yourself getting needier by the minute. “hamzah-“ you started before being interrupted by a knocking on the door. “dude let me in, i forgot my wallet” it was martin.

you looked at hamzah before getting up. he kissed you “go to my bedroom, i’ll be there in a second” he told you and you smirked before leaving the room.

hamzah let him in “ugh thank you, i was worried you fell asleep” martin said, spotting his wallet on the side table.

hamzah looked over his shoulder realizing your shirt and bra were still thrown around on the couch. “imagine i went all the way to spain and forgot this just sitting here” martin chuckled before turning around, hamzah missing the chance to let him not to.

“oou you got chick-fil-a? anything left?” he looked inside a bag before he came face to face with your bra. he turned around, jaw dropped “dude!” he gasped and hamzah grinned.

lvryn

Liked by hamzahthefantasfic, clairedrakee and others

lvryn alright who pressed fast forward on my weekend 😂

mandys_iphone cute

user HELLO? is this a soft launch?????

ynlover omg this and how touchy they were in the sims video last month, they’re definitely dating ?)!(!;$:

— 🐞 the end

[guliexe]

—BF!HAMZAH HEADCANONS

sfw & nsfw

A/N: very quick and badly written, just wanted to post something small until i finish the hamzah fic

SFW

- hamzah is very shy when you first start dating since you had been friends for some time before he asked you out.

- loves physical affection but gets flustered. he loves holding hands and cuddling but gets super shy about initiating it.

- blushes when you compliment him. he doesn’t know how to handle it and just kind of mumbles a “thanks” while avoiding eye contact.

- he secretly collects little things that remind him of you—like ticket stubs, notes, or even pressed flowers.

- get jealous but tries to hide it. If someone else flirts with you, he’ll just quietly wrap an arm around your waist, his ears a little red.

- late-night deep talks. he’s not much of a talker during the day, but once it’s late and quiet, he opens up about his dreams and worries, stroking your hair on the couch with a blunt in his fingers.

- he definitely spoils you. he has the money for it after all. even if you don’t like him spending so much money on you, he’s gonna keep doing it because he loves you.

- loves seeing you in his clothes. he’ll act nonchalant, but internally, he loves it when he sees you wearing his hoodie or shirt.

- he starts including you in the videos more often, mainly to play the sims 4, and the fans love your relationship.

- he always mentions you in his podcast at the most random times.

- when time passes, and he gets more comfortable, he’s more physical with you. his hands are always on your thighs and waist, and he loves kissing your neck.

NSFW

- when you’re lounging together, he’ll tug you onto his lap without a word, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck.

- “i want you”

- he’s definitely a munch. he loves the way you squirm under his grip when he eats your soaking pussy and his fingers pump in and out of you.

- you love riding his thighs. when he’s focused on work, editing videos on his computer, being too busy to touch you, you whine in his ear, begging him to give you some attention.

- “so pathetic, getting off on my thigh, can’t fucking wait for me to finish working, hm?”

- your panties pulled to the side, a wet spot forming on his shorts as you grind your clit on his thigh.

- when it comes to sex, he takes his time with you. he teases you and makes you wait for him to fuck you.

- unless you’re both so horny that you can’t keep your hands off of eachother.

- he’s always the dominant one, but he won’t admit that he likes it when you’re in charge sometimes.

- he likes being rough, bossing you around and praising you as he fucks your tight hole.

- “fuck, you’re takin me so well, baby”

- you always make him hard in the worst places.

- having to leave martin and mandy’s place earlier so he can fuck you, because you moved a little too much when sitting on his lap in the living room.

- when he’s too tired, he prefers cowgirl. he loves watching you bounce on his dick, sweat on your face, hair messy, his thumb rubbing lazily on your clit as you do all the work for him.

- he cums everywhere on you. he loves messing you up with his liquid. On your face, tits, stomach, and especially inside you, watching it leak out of you.

my other works ➵ masterlist

© guliexe 2025 all rights reserved.

[lovhrin]

𓇻   ॱ˖ 𝑂ℎ, 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑘 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟, 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑛𝑜 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑎

──ॱ˖ ❀ enhypen hyung line and their pink obsessed girlfriend. genre fluff. warnings pet names, swearing, yn is like a pink pinterest girl | enhypen x fem!reader.

lee heeseung ( 이희승 )

to be honest you weren’t really his type.

he mostly went for girls that had a style more similar to his.

when he first met you it was kinda overwhelming just looking at you LOL

you were jays older sister, he didn’t even know jay had a sister until the day he met you.

you were picking jay up from one of their hangouts.

in a pink car…

heeseung cringed when he saw that not only were you in a pink car but also your whole entire outfit was pink.

but he was also like “she’s kinda hot…”

that night he did some digging through jays instagram following and found his pink obsessed sister.

“unintentionally” of course.

he also unintentionally messaged you as well.

and the rest is history.

“this is totally ruining my street cred.” heeseung whined as he sat in the passenger seat of your pink convertible, “I feel like a passenger princess.”

“you’d be the prettiest passenger princess ever.” you teased kissing his cheek before staring the car and backing out your driveway.

“I should be driving you, why are we taking your car anyway?”

“because I need you to take photos of me, and the car needs to be in the view, it completes the outfit and makes me look good.” you respond like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“you always look good, why does that matter!?”

park jongseong ( 박종성 )

he feeds into your pink obsession like no other

he tries his best to act like he doesn’t want too but somehow, he’s always the one pulling out his card at the cashier.

it’s like the angels brought you to him because you always make his days less boring.

“if you like the scent with the blue bottle why am I paying for that one?”

“because it’s pink!”

when he’s out with his friends at the mall, he’s always picking up pink little trinkets that he feels like you’d like.

sometimes they’re not so small.

“you got me the pink chanel bag!” you exclaimed as you opened the box he passed to you, “with the bow too!”

as soon as he came through the door after his hangout he had a smirk on his face and silently passed you a black shopping bag.

“I was gonna save up and get it.” you say leaning into his side as you examine the bag, “what the hell jay.” you say to your boyfriend who just shrugs his shoulders in a I don’t care way.

“you have too much money to waste.” you lecture causing jay to laugh.

“yeah, and I love wasting it on you.” he teases before leaving a kiss on your forehead.

sim jaeyun ( 심재윤 ) cd is playing

literally lets you do anything to him.

he loves his pink obsessed girlfriend.

even if that means she’s putting pink bows in hair every second.

finds the way you like pink so much endearing.

he let you decorate the apartment you both live in together.

“bro you have a pink toaster?”

“oh yeah, yn picked that up the other day.”

remember when I said he will let you do anything to him?

he would definitely let you do those tiktok trends on him.

“babe what are you doing?” jake asked you as you picked up a roll of pink ribbon and sat on the couch beside him.

“just something…” you said grinning before cutting the piece of ribbon and gesturing towards his arm, “pass me your arm.”

he looked and you confused but leaned over towards nevertheless.

he watched as you tied a perfect bow around his upper arm, “uh yn?”

“isn’t it cute! wait let me get my phone.”

he couldn’t help but laugh as he watched you run into your shared room.

park sunghoon ( 박성훈 )

you were a youtuber

you were known for your, grwm, room yours, day in my life and loving pink

he doesn’t even know how he pulled you

in his eyes you were kind of a celebrity.

he could’ve sworn he seen you on his sisters pinterest once.

he’s been in a few of your videos.

most of the time he holds the camera for you.

your viewers love how different you guys are.

he’s the most funny in your shopping videos.

“this whole cart is pink yn.”

in the background of your videos when you’re going your grwm’s all you’ll see is a man decked out in all black sleeping in a pink bed with fluffy pillows surrounding him.

sunghoon held the camera for you as you walked through the store for your new video.

“oh my gosh!” you say before rushing towards the thing that caught your eye, “wouldn’t this be so cute for my place?” you said asking your boyfriend who gives you an unimpressed look.

“do you really need a pink kettle?”

“I don’t know how I didn’t get one sooner.” you say smiling innocently as he shakes his head.

“just put it in the cart.”

[ducksido]

hiii :3 could you write headcanons about dorm leaders with a s/o who's like idia

Riddle Rosehearts

At first, he’s… confused. Your lack of eye contact and mumbled anime references during tea time make him think you’re mocking him.

Once he realizes you’re just very socially awkward, he becomes much more patient.

He lowkey finds your rambling about your favorite games kind of… impressive? You speak fast, you’re passionate, and it’s endearing.

Tries to gently coax you into tea parties to help your social anxiety. He’ll sit beside you like, “It’s alright, you don’t need to speak unless you’re comfortable.”

If you info-dump, he listens with unexpected interest—even if he doesn’t understand half of it.

Will lecture anyone who makes fun of your quirks. “That’s just how they communicate! It’s called a comfort topic—show some respect!”

Leona Kingscholar

You're like… a tiny, nervous house cat. He’s both entertained and bewildered.

He definitely teases you at first. “Oi, you’ve got something to say? Spit it out already.” But secretly finds your stuttering adorable.

The first time you compare him to a JRPG antihero, he rolls his eyes… but doesn’t stop you. “Tch. You nerds are all the same.”

Loves watching you play games while you narrate what’s going on. Will lie on your lap like a lazy lion and listen with half-lidded eyes.

100% spoils you once he realizes you’re touch-starved. “C’mere, shut up and let me nap on you.”

If someone calls you creepy or weird, expect a very calm but threatening “Wanna repeat that to my face?”

Azul Ashengrotto

Immediately relates to your anxious tendencies. Social anxiety besties <3

Loves that you’re not clingy in public. He’s all for quiet quality time in his lounge or study.

Buys you rare merchandise or figures without even being asked. “I came across this limited-edition item and thought you might enjoy it.”

You make him feel less alone—he no longer feels like the only anxious nerd in NRC.

He melts a little when you stim nervously or pace while thinking. “You’re adorable when you're lost in thought…”

Is impressed by your game strategies. “You cleared that dungeon solo? Remind me never to underestimate you again.”

Kalim Al-Asim

HE THINKS YOU’RE THE CUTEST THING ALIVE.

Will listen to you infodump for hours even if he has no idea what you’re talking about. Just nods with stars in his eyes.

Tries to get you out of your shell by inviting you to parties—which you hate at first, but Kalim always makes sure you have a quiet escape plan if needed.

Loves your hoodie + pajama aesthetic. “You're always cozy!! Can I get a hoodie like yours?”

Gives you anime plushies as gifts constantly.

Protective in his own way—if someone makes you feel bad about your hobbies, he goes full golden retriever mode: “What?? That’s so mean!! Your games are awesome!!”

Vil Schoenheit

At first glance? He’s skeptical.

But when he learns your behaviors stem from social anxiety and not apathy, he softens significantly.

Tries to bring out your confidence. “You’re brilliant—stop hiding behind that screen.”

Surprisingly patient when teaching you how to be more comfortable around people… but he’ll also call you out. “No, darling, muttering your rebuttal after the conversation ends doesn’t count as standing up for yourself.”

Slowly helps you care more about self-image, but in a way that still respects your boundaries. Yes, you can still wear oversized sweaters.

Secretly watches anime to understand your references. Will never admit it.

Idia Shroud

You're literally his dream partner. He thinks he downloaded you from a dating sim at first.

The relationship is mostly texting even when you’re in the same room.

You two have the most insane, cryptic conversations that no one else understands. Just obscure memes, gaming references, and dramatic anime monologues.

You both stim together while watching streams. Cuddling under a blanket fort, surrounded by LED lights, is peak intimacy.

If you ever show affection first, he instantly short-circuits.

He is SO possessive in a feral nerd way. “If someone else tries to talk to you, I’ll delete their save file irl.”

Malleus Draconia

Finds your mannerisms absolutely fascinating. Like an ancient dragon trying to understand modern introverts.

He likes that you’re not intimidated by him—just by… everything else.

If you nervously mutter anime lines, he’ll try to learn them. “...Was that a chant? Is this a courtship ritual in your realm?”

He’s incredibly patient with your social anxiety. Actually prefers the quiet comfort of your presence over noisy events.

You bring him handheld games and slowly get him into gacha culture. He’s way too good at pulling 5-stars.

If anyone mocks your interests, he stares them down until they cry. “You shall not speak so freely of what you do not understand.”

[prettydaisygirl]

streamer!James Potter headcanons

°˖✧✿✧˖°

❀ streamer!James goes solely by Prongs online. It’s not that he is actively trying to keep his IRL life private, but he does get worried people who dislike him might target his family and friends on social media. 

❀ streamer!James definitely dropped out of uni once his channel took off. His mother is still trying to get him to go back, but James is trying to convince her he can grow a career from live-streaming. Effie doesn’t believe him, but she’s still proud. 

❀ streamer!James secretly plays The Sims off-stream. He’s been playing with the same Sims family for almost two years.  

❀ streamer!James works out every day. He takes a lot of pride in his appearance, and he knows a lot of his fans watch him because he’s hot. He’s also hilarious, but that comes naturally. His humility does too. 

❀ streamer!James is a variety streamer, for sure. He can’t imagine having to play the same exact game every single day. He relishes in new titles and old ones alike. Plus, when he is playing with the other Marauders, they usually have to play whatever Sirius wants.

❀ streamer!James has the most followers of the group, though not by much. The four of them were friends from school, but the other boys started their channels once James’ took off. 

❀ streamer!James never expected his channel to grow so large. He’d started live-streaming during his free time at uni, and now he is one of the largest streamers on the website. Effie starts to believe that he can make a career out of this once she sees the payments he’s getting.

❀ streamer!James has a channel theme that changes constantly. 

❀ streamer!James has RGB lights all over his room, covering his things. Even his headphones glow.

❀ streamer!James has a channel point redemption to flex his muscles/do push ups.

❀ streamer!James has edits of him all over social media. Yes, he watches them. But only on his alt accounts.

°˖✧✿✧˖°

photos from pinterest

© prettydaisygirl

[heartsforvin]

ONLINE LOVE

thank you nonnie for the request !! i hope you like it (:

pairing: gamer!vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: cussing, sexual jokes / innuendos, pure fluff

summary: when vinnie goes on omegle one random night out of boredom, he doesn’t expect to meet you and fall in love in the process

with nothing to do on a friday night, vinnie decided to go on omegele. he hadn't been on the site in years, and honestly thought it had gotten banned.

tagging it with a few trendy things, vinnie fixed up his appearance just a bit before clicking on the video option.

of course he knew he wasn't going to get lucky with someone not showing their junk right away, so he wasn't disappointed when he saw some random guy's dick.

after a few skips and boring people, he finally got to you. "holy shit." he thought he said that in his head, but when you looked up, he knew he didn't.

with a furrow to your eyebrows, you give him a small smile as you say hello.

vinnie can't help but give himself a few extra minutes to stare, you were just so pretty. after a minute, he clears his throat and smiles.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes with a laugh. "just didn't expect to see such a pretty girl."

blushing, you thank him with a smile of your own. "you're not so bad yourself." you reply.

vinnie chuckles as he thanks you like you did him. overtime, the two of you ask each other questions about the other, along with interests.

"you play any video games?" he asks you, and you smile with a shake to your head.

it was honestly kind of hard to focus on conversation with him. the first thing you had noticed when he popped up on your screen was his eyes.

vinnie notices you staring at him and smirks. "am i really that nice to look at?" he chuckles.

you rid your thoughts quickly, almost being embarrassed that he caught you. you wouldn't have the confidence to admit it, but he was good to look at.

smiling, you quickly divert the conversation to his previous question. "not much of a gamer really, unless you count the sims." you say.

vinnie laughs and shakes his head. "nah i'm talkin' real games." he tells you.

rolling your eyes playfully, you give him a scoff. "oh so you're one of those people." you say with a laugh.

when vinnie heard you laugh he swore his heart skipped a beat, and not even to be dramatic. he watched as you went on and on about how the sims was real gaming.

he saw your smile and knew that's something he wanted to see more of. "woah hey, calm down." vinnie laughs as he cuts you off.

you smile, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "what? sims is real gaming, you nerd." you tell him.

vinnie takes in your appearance again and the clothes you're wearing. he can't get enough of you and he just met you.

you do the same, looking at him through the laptop screen, faint blush spreads across your cheeks.

vinnie stands up and the breath is almost knocked out of you when he does. he's wearing sweatpants and a white tank top, muscles on full display.

"you lookin' at my arms or...?" vinnie asks with a chuckle as he sees you staring. "because i can give you soethin' to look at."

laughing, you roll your eyes at him again. "definitely don't want to see that. i've seen too many."

vinnie chuckles and nods his head, completely understanding. although, it doesn't stop him from making a comment.

"you sure? because i do have a tattoo there, but if you don't want see i guess you'll never know." he shrugs.

you wish you were near him so you could hit his arm, instead, you result in a playful scoff and sarcastic reply. "you do not have a tattoo there."

the blonde laughs but shrugs again. "how'd you know if you've never seen it?"

this time, its your turn to shrug. "guess i'll just have to take your word for it." you tell him.

the playful banter continues for about another hour. neither you or vinnie thought you'd actually meet a decent person on this site tonight, but you're both happy you did.

"okay," you say, getting vinnie's attention back onto you and not his phone. "other than gaming, what do you do?"

vinnie stifles a laugh at the question, knowing his answer. "i stream." he tells you.

you already know his answer to your next question so he beats you to it by saying, "yes, i do stream video games."

you can't help but smile. "nerd." you comment with a laugh.

vinnie fires back. "you don't even play real video games, don't even give me that kind of attitude." he says with a laugh.

you brush him off with a scoff. that brought your attention back to the sims games and how you now suddenly got an idea.

"hey vinnie," you get his attention again and he looks up at you. "what if i told you i'm about to make you and me in sims?"

you were half joking, although you did think about the idea of it. vinnie furrows his eyebrows but has a smile on his face.

"that's cute, you should." he tells you, making you smile.

you nod, telling him you'll do it after you get done talking. the two of you talk more for a bit, jokes are made, smiles are shared along with laughs, and vinnie did make one or two comments about you blushing.

in all honesty, he was doing the same thing an you probably could notice. he couldn't help himself, he was starting to think he was falling a bit in love with you.

he did think it was way too soon to tell and you two had known each other for no longer than four hours.

silence fills you two for a minute before vinnie interrupts the silence with what you'd say is a crazy statement.

"you know what you could do if we ever do meet and possibly have a thing going?" he asks, and you don't reply right away, taking his words in.

you didn't want to rush anything at all, but the chemistry between the two of you was very noticeable. so, you raise your eyebrow as you wait for him to tell you.

he smirks, anf you instantly know its another one of his dirty jokes. "never had support from under the desk before."

the minute that sentence leaves his mouth your laughing loudly, quickly trying to stop yourself.

you give him that same look back, smirk turning into a smile as you tease him and tell him maybe one day it'll happen.

you both talk for a bit longer until the two of you decide to call it a night. before yo go, vinnie asks you for your number and you happily give it to him.

he was definitely falling in love with you now if he wasn't already.

thank you nonnie for the request again !! i hope you liked it + everyone else reading this (:

comments, reblogs + feedback of any kind is appreciated <33

tags: @sturnioloshacker , @anqeliclust , @cosmicanakin , @42angelgirl , @leqonsluv3r , @khackerr , @louloulemons-blog , @visualbutterflysworld , @bernelflo , @slvthrs , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @supabhad , @kriissy4gov , @kayleighh , @hallecarey1 , @laylasbunbunny , @defnotayonna , @khxna , @jpg3 , @skye-44 , @eddieslut69 , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @miilzzy

[flwrstqr]

【 愛 】 L-O-V-E ｡｡ SPORT BF ENHYPEN ───𝗂 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍?

❪ 日语 ❫ : athlete!enhypen & fem!rea 1OOO ❜ skinship, petnames mention of blood ⎯ fluff head canons ˊᯅˋ & click / archive

notes. 다니 ⸝⸝ sports boyfriend enhypen is my life!! well enhypen is my whole life HAHA .. but i hope you flueries enjoy hehe ㅠㅠ

LEE HEESEUNG

leaning against the cool metal of the bleachers, you watching heeseung effortlessly sink shot after shot. his jersey clings to his frame, sweat glistening along his neck, but he still turns to you with that signature smirk, bouncing the ball lazily. “hmm, if i make this in, you owe me a kiss,” he teases, flicking his wrist as the ball soars through the air—and swishes cleanly into the hoop. he spins on his heel, grinning as he strides toward you. “guess you owe me, baby,” he murmurs, voice dripping with mischief as his hands find your waist, pulling you closer. “but, y’know… i wouldn’t mind collecting a few extra, just ‘cause.” before you can protest, he steals a quick, sweet peck, laughing when you shove at his chest

PARK JAY

jay sits on the bench, his fencing jacket unzipped, the faint metallic tang of blood catching your attention as you kneel in front of him. "it’s not that bad," he mutters, but the small cut on his forearm says otherwise. you press your lips into a thin line, and carefully dab the ointment on his skin. "stay still, jay park" you scold, your voice laced with affection. his eyes, focused, lingering on your concentrated expression as you peel the bandage open and press it gently onto his arm. "you’re really something, you know, princess," he teases, his voice dropping into a playful murmur. "oh really?" you retort. when you glance up, your faces are so close. jay leans in, brushing a kiss against your lips, his free hand lightly cupping your cheek. "thanks, baby," he whispers, his grin boyish and smug.

SIM JAKE

jake waits just outside the locker rooms, still in his football gear, helmet tucked under his arm, eyes lighting up the second he sees you in your cheer uniform. "there’s my pretty girl," he calls out, that familiar, heart-melting grin spreading across his face. you roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. he steps closer, towering over you, his hand slipping around your waist. "what about a good luck kiss?" he murmurs. "for the team, of course." you scoff, but he’s already leaning in, lips brushing yours in a soft, teasing kiss that leaves your heart racing. "that’s all i needed," jake grins as he pulls back. "now we’ll definitely win."

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon’s hand is steady on your waist, his other holding yours as you wobble on the ice, your skates barely cooperating. "relax, angel," he says, lips quirking into that teasing smirk."you’re not gonna fall—well, unless you take me down with you." you manage a few shaky steps before your skate catches on the ice, sending you stumbling straight into him. the two of you crash down, sunghoon’s arms wrapping around you to break the fall. his face hovers just inches from yours, his breath visible in the cold air. "guess we’re staying down here a while." despite the playful tone, his gaze softens, lingering on you a little too long before he leans in, brushing a feather-light kiss against your lips. "told you i’d catch you," he murmurs, smiling like he’s never been happier.

KIM SUNOO

the gym is freezing, and you’re curled up on the bleachers, hugging your arms to your chest as you watch sunoo dart across the court, all swift movements and sharp focus. when he catches you shivering between plays, he doesn’t hesitate—he jogs off mid-break, disappearing into the locker room before returning with his jersey in hand. “here, baby,” he murmurs, draping the oversized fabric over your frame, the scent of his cologne enveloping you. “you’re the best,” you smile, and he only chuckles, ruffling your hair before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “of course i am. now stay warm, okay?”

YANG JUNGWON

the summer heat beats down on the court, the sound of tennis balls bouncing as jungwon stands behind you, his hands gently guiding yours on the racket. "just like this, baby," he murmurs, but honestly, you can’t even focus. not when his arms are wrapped around you, his chest pressed to your back. you turn your head slightly, meeting his gaze, and he grins, his hold on the racket loosening. "you’re not even paying attention," he teases, tilting his head before leaning in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. you laugh, nudging him. "maybe because my coach is so attractive." jungwon hums, pulling you closer, his lips brushing yours. "then let’s just have fun, hmm?" and suddenly, tennis is the last thing on either of your minds.

NISHIMURA RIKI

riki's still catching his breath when you plop down onto his lap, legs lazily draped over his as he instinctively wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. his other hand finds yours, fingers absentmindedly tracing light patterns along the back of it. “sooo, how was practice, superstar?” you ask, tilting your head to look at him. he hums, amused, “exhausting. you should try dancing sometime, babe. might finally fix those two feet of yours.” you gasp dramatically, swatting at his chest, but he only chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “anyway,” you huff, choosing to ignore his jab, “i was saying—oh! and then i saw this cute dog today, riki, i swear he looked just like you.” his lips quirk up as he leans in, voice teasing, “so what i’m hearing is, you think i’m cute?” "shut up, ki"

fill out form to be part of my perm taglist!

[thepettymachine]

Wandering Souls Challenge for TS3

Heeey so I made another challenge. Might be the last one I ever make who knows. But I got inspired by the Postcard Legacy for TS4 and made something similar but not similar to it. It took a minute to make but I hope you enjoy

Wandering Souls Challenge is a 10 generation legacy challenge where you go through multiple jobs and careers with story elements involved. This is a challenge if you don't wanna do just one career all of your sims life and don't mind moving around + mild drama but not soul shattering.

Tag: "wandering souls challenge" or "@" me

Rules:

I didn't really make any but don't feel obligated to do everything as an objective. Somethings you probably aren't going to get to everything and that's okay. If you do everything congratulations, if you don't move on.

I have no designated way to play this (ex: what town do you recommend in playing with this), I'm giving the player what they want to do within the confines of this challenge. It's your sandbox not mine.

You do have some optional goals for extra fun if you choose to do so.

Have fun

Carry On Wayward Son

When you were young, you didn’t take anything as serious as your music. Your obsession with the chords became as necessary as breathing and you’ll do anything but sell your soul to the industry. But as you grew older and had a family, you wish for more structure with your music in hopes for it to reach the people that desperately need to hear it. So you find an indie record company and work with them because your artistic freedom is still the forefront of why you’re doing all of this. Plus feeding your family and paying the bills. 

Objectives:

Start by making money through collecting tips while working part time jobs

Half way through your YA years, you try a Singing career or being part of a band but it doesn’t work out

As an adult, you enter into the Music career for more structure and to reach a larger fanbase

Pick a branch between classical or rock

Your lover/(s) must be all creative types like you (artist, sculptor, architect, musician, street artist, etc)

You encourage your children to also pursue the arts

Master all 4 instruments (guitar, bass, piano, and drums)

Get at least 3 tattoos somewhere on your body

2. Jeffrey Jeffrey Simzos

If the Grinch and Scrooge had a love child, it would be you. You couldn’t really get behind your parent’s idealistic dreams about music and art, it felt unstable and unrealistic to you. You want wealth and power at your fingertips and anyone at your beck and call. Whether its through a wealthy spouse, your boss, the corporate ladder, or getting into politics, you will reach the top. For there is no redemption arc and no grace to be given for Greed has already devoured the remnants of your dead beating heart.

Objectives:

Have bake sales as a child and dislike any attempts at the arts

Join the Business career

Be enemies with all of your coworkers

Go from a small house/apartment to a big mansion/house

Be the owner of multiple businesses around town + an additional home

Marry a rich sim you definitely married for money

Have at least one child with the butler or maid you hired

You become more power hungry so you join Politics after reaching level 8 of Business career

Steal campaign funds 

Your kids must be the top of their class, no exceptions (straight A’s, no skipping school, be apart of a club) or they are sent to boarding school

You are not close with any of your children

Optional: woohoo your boss

3. Yes Chef

Because excellence was required of you as a child, you tend to have a strong work ethic and unrealistic expectations for yourself and others while despising what you had to endure in your upbringing. The one good thing out of it was discovering your love of cooking. Cooking was a way for you to escape your worries and as an adult you desire to be a chef, going against everything your parents raised you with. You started from the bottom and found your way all the way at the top as head chef. But something is missing and so you explore other cultures and find new excitement in  nectar making. You figure when you retire, you wanna spend the rest of your days being a nectar maker on a giant farm in the countryside.

Objectives:

Start at the diner for the first half of your career, then move over to the bistro for the second half

Bartend for bars at night for extra income

Read every recipe and learn all the fancy drinks

Master Cooking & Mixology

Marry your childhood friend or high school friend you haven’t seen in years

Cook your spouse and children their favorites meals at least once

At the top of your career, you get bored and visit travel other cultures for their cuisine (go to France, Egypt, and China to learn their food recipes)

Get inspired by nectar making 

When becoming an Elder, move to the countryside, retire as a chef, and become a self employed nectar farmer. 

4. Country Roads, Take Me Home

You’ve always found interest in nature as a kid and instead of wanting to be in the comfy suburbs or stargazing the city’s skylines.You even had a knack for bringing stray animals into your home but they always seemed to run away when you left for school (according to your parents). That’s why instead of working a typical 9-5, you fulfill your childhood dream of being on a farm and working with your bare hands. Building a life you always dreamed of yet will work hard to maintain. There’s no sleeping in for this dreamer.

Objectives:

As a child you were part of the scouts

Live on a farm or ranch

Work as a self employed gardener

Master the Fishing, Gardening, and/or Riding skill

Adopt 2 strays (horse, dog or cat)

Marry your helper on the farm or Marry a townie that loves the outdoors/animal lover trait

Wake up in the early hours of the day

Have a big family cause free child labor

Raise a horse from baby to elder 

Optional: Own a cow plant 

Optional: Win the highest horse competition (racing or jumping)

5. He was #1

You’ve always had an interest in the outdoors but sports was your passion and you’re very good at it. So good, you were being scouted by agents who hoped to take you to the pros and have your name chanted by the thousands. Your dream did come true but another did not. You’re a closeted hopeless romantic who always wished to find their soulmate and have a family, but being a professional athlete with a recognizable face has made it difficult for you to find true authentic love. What will it take for you to find love and will you have to choose between your two greatest loves or can they both coexist together for your sake.

Objectives:

Enjoy your outdoor activities (playing ball, going to the pool, camping, etc) once a week

Find love through online dating 

Go on 3 dates with a person before committing 

Host a big wedding party and bachelor/bachelorette party and if possible, ask your partners parents for their blessing

Master the Athletic skill

Become a stay at home parent when you reach level 6  of the sports career

After a sports injury that takes you out of the field. You find yourself recovering and unemployed and decide to take care of your children while deciding your next move. 

You realize you want to be a sports agent so you go back to college as an adult and get your physical education degree 

Reach level 10 of Jock social group. 

Join the Sports Agent career

Gain the Eternally Faithful Moodlet

6. You Blinded Me with Science:

Curiosity killed the cat or in your case it just made you curiouser. You couldn’t keep your hands still and always have to be tinkering with something. So much so that you lost your beloved job at the science lab because you kept goofing around with some scrap from the town’s junkyard during company hours. No worries, you just decided to go all in with being a self made inventor and creating gizmos and gadgets the world has never seen before. Except one day, you find a mysterious device you’ve never seen before and upon activating it, you end up in the future. There are alot more prettier machines than the ones you’ve been messing around with and you sorta take one home with you. Oh well what’s the worst that can happen. 

Objectives:

Start out in the Science career but get fired after reaching lvl 3 in inventing and join the Inventor self employed career 

You spend your weekends messing around in the town's junkyard and blowing stuff up for your experiments. The neighbors even catch you dumpster diving around town 

Marry someone just as eccentric and quirky as you (ex: eccentric, neurotic, insane, socially awkward, slob, etc)

Master the handiness and inventing skills

Create all inventions, including a simbot

Make some of your children through the Time Machine (past: child - YA/ future: elder, you can age down if you wish) 

All your children’s traits have to be randomized

Optional: Go into the future and obtain all the gadgets to bring them back home to the present 

Optional: You even bring back home a plumbot and learn how to take care of one

Optional: Leave the Inventor career and present and work in the Astronomy career in the future.

7. Who You Gonna Call?

This generation can be played in two different ways. The choice is up to you. (Also double heirs can be accepted for this gen)

Super Skeptic Route:

The question you’ve always asked yourself was “Are Ghosts Real?” You believed in the supernatural, the horror stories, and the abduction of Bella Goth and was hoping to find evidence in the graveyards. But alas you could never find your ghosts and your dreams were crushed. Now as an adult, you’ve become a skeptic and believe it all to be a charade and try to speak sense into the “sheep” around you to see the light. Until one day you do encounter a ghost and for the last time, you investigate into the question, “Are Ghosts Real?”.

Objectives:

Work in a graveyard in your teen years

Have the Supernatural Skeptic trait. 

You dabble in Alchemy but it never takes effect on you. 

Join the Con Artist branch of the Fortune Teller career

Encounter 3 ghosts to convince you that ghosts are real

Leave the Fortune Teller career to become a Ghost Hunter

You convince Ghosts to move on/ Set them free rather than have them experiment on by the science lab (avoid opportunities that say otherwise) 

Do all investigations (spirit invasion, paranormal investigation, poltergeist haunting, ghostly presence, angry ghost invasion)

Ultra Fan Route:

As a child, you always found yourself interested in what couldn’t be reasoned or argued against, the supernatural. You obsessed over horror stories, wandered into graveyards, deep subreddits of conspiracies behind Bella Goth’s abduction and studied too many ways to become one. You started to give up hope of ever becoming one. Until one day you befriend a fellow occult member of society and it changed your life forever.

Objectives:

Work in a graveyard in your teen years

Have the Supernatural Fan trait

Master the Alchemy skill

Start a side hustle of being an author writing primarily in the horror genre

Publish 15 horror books

Join the Mystic branch of the Fortune Teller career

Befriend a supernatural of your choice to be turned into

Get 1st place at Trivia night at the Vault of Antiquity

8. Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Being a doctor was something you always thought you wanted to be. It came with status, notoriety, respect, money, student loans, and it was something more stable than what your parents were able to give you. You worked hard and got into the Medical career where you met your spouse and lived in a beautiful home with your two kids and pet. It’s like everything worked out in the end. But your desire to see the world burn just keeps rearing its ugly head and you can no longer contain the person you thought you repressed for so long. It desires the status and respect you’ve obtained but also infamy, underlings, and power.

Objectives:

Have the Evil trait

As a teen, be a straight A student, work a part time job, and be best friends with your parents, enemies with your siblings (if applicable)

Choose to go to college on full scholarship or enter the Medical career immediately. 

Marry a fellow coworker whose as ambitious or hardworking as you

Live in a nice home with a white picket fence, 2 kids and a pet of your choice

Befriend some townies who work in the Criminal career

Donate to criminal organizations at least once a week

Leave your job in the Medical career in your adult years

Join the Criminal career

Choose the Evil branch of the Criminal career and reach the top

Optional: Divorce your spouse, find a new home, bring the kids (or don’t) and marry your criminal coworker.

9. Baywatch

You used to work in law enforcement until the red tape got to you and so you went to become a private investigator. Solving crimes and digging through trash got exhausting and difficult as you try to serve others yet the system kept letting you down. After having a midlife crisis, You’ve come to realize that helping people can be simple, enjoyable, and have a great ocean view. Being a lifeguard wasn’t in the career plan but saving lives from the depths of the oceans and looking good in red too. Not a bad career change.  

Objectives:

Join the law enforcement career

Become friends with/date your cop partner 

When reaching level 5 of the career, you leave your job to go into the Investigative career to get away from the red tape 

Continue being an investigator until your Adult years

Have a midlife crisis and complete all the wishes or go get therapy at the hospital

At the end of your crisis, you join the Lifeguard career

Find an island or befriend a mermaid  

Master the scuba diving skill and logic skills

10. Master of None

Oh the journey you have been on. From caring about the music to fighting robbers in people’s homes, you’ve been through it all. As you worked hard for what you wanted, You have reached this crossroad and wonder what it all means and what it meant before. Maybe discovering yourself is what the journey is all about or maybe it's the experiences that shape you that gives you your form. Regardless, you’ve been feeling torn about what to do now and with no destination, maybe you start to express who you truly are. Who knows. There is no rush in the process or a destination in sight, only the curiosity that keeps your soul wandering on the journey.  

Objectives:

Join at least 5 different careers you haven’t played in this challenge (Education, Magician, Firefighter, Stylist, etc)

Have 3 best friends you maintain until Elder

Start dabbling in painting or sculpting in your free time outside of work. 

Meet the love of your life 

Be apart of your community - take opportunities that involve helping your neighbors/fellow townies

Pamper yourself -  go to a place in town for some you time once a week

Learn a new skill once a week (you don’t have to master it) 

If applicable, befriend your grandchildren 

Optional: turn your hobby into your job 

Thank you for playing. Feedback is welcomed

[fairestwriting]

headcannons about idia who’s head over heels in love with yuu ever since the orientation ceremony (he’s such a dork your honor)

Of course they get closer over time as the story progresses ^~^

also I just wanted to say your works r so cute and unique along with how you write them!! You truly do capture the essence of the characters even when the stories r pretty short or even just simply headcannons lol <3

wahh thank you sm 🥹 i really love the characters and writing them in situations…. it makes me happy to hear people think im portraying them well

𐙚 Idia Shroud

It’s not like he’s never had a crush on anyone before, he’d usually recognize the feeling pretty quickly even. But, that pretty much instant feeling of being drawn to this one specific stranger in the crowd, that’s definitely something new. He doesn’t understand why he’s so fixated on you right off the bat, flustered like you’re not multiple feet apart and don’t even know each other’s names. Idia’s heart races even more, being almost too late to realize he was staring at you before you glance towards him. Sure, you’re a cute stranger, but that sort of “crush at first sight” thing only belongs in cheesy dating sims and such, as far as Idia knows.

”Aah, that’s it, this school finally made me lose my mind”, he thinks, once at the ceremony, then again when your face shows up in his thoughts later. He hadn’t even heard you speak, and yet… He finds himself overthinking every bit of that non-interaction, one half of his mind firmly telling him that he’s being a weirdo for doing that at all, near completely drowned out by his worries over whether you caught him staring at you like an idiot. If this was really a crush, and not a really weird case of crossed wires, he’s probably already ruined everything for himself, right? Not that he’d have a chance otherwise—

He almost manages to get over the whole thing when the stars decide to align to laugh at him, and you two end up talking. What exactly led up to it? If you asked him how, he’d hinestly have trouble remembering. Did you end up visiting his dorm, maybe even joining his club? Did you two run into each other in the halls, anime meet-cute style? You introduced yourself, and he somehow managed to respond appropriately. Maybe he was on his phone, looking at something related to a game he likes, and you just so happened to play it too…

And it’s a known fact that the one thing that’ll get Idia to forget his own anxiety for a moment, is being prompted to talk about his interests— Whatever it was that you brought up became the thing that miraculously tied you two together. You end up exchanging contact information, both too invested in feeding each other’s excitement for a second.

…Then, after you walk away from each other, it hits Idia that he has your contact information. Looking back on it, he feels like that must have been insanely lucky of him. Probably months worth of dream cards pulled from limited banners. At this point, there’s no way to deny his feelings to himself, incomprehensible as they might feel. Maybe he could dare to think he has a chance, considering you two have an interest in common… And it’s always much easier for him to talk to people over text.

That’d be getting ahead of himself, though, he thinks, the debate heavy in his mind as he proofreads his text asking if you want to play that game with him anytime soon. He covers his own eyes when he hits send, his hands feeling shaky down to the fingertips. You could send the most unremarkably polite response, he’s still going all crazy over it, even alarming Ortho with the noise he makes when he almost falls off his chair.

You play together, somehow it turns into a routine thing. You start exchanging texts, greeting each other in the halls. Idia has no idea how life just dropped that on his lap, even though he starts to feel more comfortable around you, it’s always still a little surreal. There’s always that persistent fear that he’s going to ruin everything somehow, but as much as his lower moods make him want to withdraw, he never goes through with it, a text from you arriving just in time to snap him out of the trance— Really, you must be magic, or something. So much that even if it all turned out to be a spell, he doesn’t think he’d even mind it.

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