#good luck to everyone who is trying to pull for them!!

[alwaysanangelneverag0d]

Everything starts here

based off this prompt(thank u anon)

masterlist

a/n:sorry this is late y’all my life got crazy busy and extremely stressful i had no free time to sit down and write:(.THIS IS FREAKY AF THO).Might be some mistakes as well,didn’t do a huge proof read

content:Fluff then straight FILTH,sub!pxdom!a,mommy kink(i’m ovulating),fingering,oral sex,scissoring,faceriding,choking,spitting,edging,overstimulation,hair pulling..i think that’s it if i missed anything lmk

Wc:8.0k

————————————————————————-

Paige Bueckers might have been the luckiest woman on earth.

Not because of the cameras flashing in her direction.

No it’s because she was here—on Azzi’s night—as her girlfriend.

Draft night. The accumulation of Azzi’s hard work. Her blood,sweat,tears and damn near everything else. Paige had watched her grind for this moment with a quiet intensity few people understood—and now the payoff was soon to come. The Valkyries had the number one pick.And everyone knew who’s name they were calling

And Paige?Well..she looked great tonight. But more importantly she looked like she belonged next to greatness.

Brittany had chosen a simple sleek suit for Paige. Deep navy with cream piping at the edges,the kind that whispered power-it had been tailored to frame her shoulders,nipped in at the waist as if it had been perfectly made for her. The jacket produced a slight shine under the lights,just enough to catch the eye,but not enough to outshine Azzi.

She’d skipped the tie as Brittany suggested. Too stiff. Instead,she left the first two buttons of her shirt undone. Not enough to be obvious but enough to relax,just enough to make Azzi look twice. Her pants were cropped a fraction above her ankles—hugging her hips without clinging. The matte black Louis Vuitton loafers were her silent flex—not that Paige cared about labels,but damn..they made her walk different.

She decided to keep her hair in a classic slickback bun. Nothing too complex. Just simple. It was Azzi’s night

Her jewelry was another story though.

She had chosen small gold hoops—light,flashy,and clean.

She wore two rings. On her index finger sat another promise ring she and Azzi had picked out together—small but heavy with meaning. A 14k gold band with a slim row of topaz—Azzi’s birthstone—resting flush against metal as if it had always belonged there. She hadn’t taken it off since the day they bought them.

The second ring chosen by Brittany weeks before—minimalist perfection .A plain,gold band brushed with titanium. It was bare except for the words engraved on the inside proof not promise

And lastly the necklace.

The silver chain rested beneath her collar,barely visible unless you looked for it. But Azzi would look. The silver chain sat right over her neck—the same one azzi had given to her as a “good luck charm” the summer before her first year in college. Paige had never stopped wearing it outside of basketball. Not really. Not when she left for Connecticut. Not when they were trying to pretend they were just friends who occasionally slept together. And especially not now,on the night Azzi was finally stepping foot into the league.

She’d seen glimpses here and there of Azzi’s outfit in the group chat they shared. A cream coloured dress meant to match the dark navy of Paige's suit

When she opened the door to the room,She saw Azzi before Azzi saw her—Posing for photos as they were taken by the photographer in the lit room.

Which was good—-hell maybe even necessary. Because if Azzi had looked at her in that moment,Paige knew she would’ve cracked. Right there on the carpeted floor,cameras lingering in the room,the chaos of getting draft ready humming around them—Paige would’ve folded under the weight of her. Probably would have crossed the room and kissed her so passionately that it would make even the most hopeless romantic gag.

Azzi’s dress was cream.

Not exactly stark white. But soft and warm like sunlit silk. It wrapped around her frame in a way that made Paige forget her own name for a mere second. The dress gave her power and presence,but everything else about it was quiet yet deliberate—cinched at the waist ,fabric catching just enough light to glow like it was lit from within. The hem of the dress hit midcalf. Showing just enough skin to make Paige choke on a breath—caramel skin contrasting the color in a way that made her want to do things she couldn’t do in public. And the gold button accents down one side? Yeah. The image was gonna live rent free in her mind for a long,long time.

She wasn’t covered in jewelry—simplicity had always been her style. Just a pair of gold droop earrings that danced when she moved,and a matching cuff around one wrist. Minimal. But elegant. Deadly to paige

She turned slightly adjusting her clutch,and Paige caught a glimpse of her back—defined yet soft muscle dipped clean down her spine. Paige’s jaw tightened. She stared

God how was this the same girl she used to watch fall asleep on her shoulder with a hoodie over her face?

She looked grown.

She looked like everything Paige had spent years trying to not want loudly.

Like a woman who was born to play in the league.

Like the kind of woman you rewatched interviews of time and time again—-just to hear her voice.

Like everything Paige used to dream about when they were stuck between almost and never.

The moment she had dreamed about since she and Azzi were on the same team in a U16 tournament. It was here.

And then Azzi turned fully—as if she sensed Paige watching. Looked past the assistants smoothing down the hem of her dress

And she smiled

Soft—almost shy.

But Paige caught it—the real one,the smile only reserved for just her. She thought she couldn’t fall even more in love then she already was—but in that moment she did.

Azzi made her way towards Paige ,heels clicking softly against carpet. Her smile grew,Paige’s chest tightened at the sight. She took in a moment to admire Azzi’s hair for the night.

Azzi had worn it down—long stunning goddess braids cascading over her shoulders and down her back like ink poured in slow motion. The braids framed her face like a halo,highlighting the sharp line of her cheekbones,the softness of her lips,the strength of her jaw.

Paige’s knees suddenly felt weaker than they ever have.

She had seen Azzi sweaty in a practice shirt,bare faced and sleepy on long flights,laughing in oversized t-shirts over FaceTime. Even seen her with the same hairstyle. But she had never seen her like this—elevated,radiant,ethereal.

There was power in it. In the way Azzi wore her beauty through pride.

And yet she still looked at Paige like she was the one who hung the stars.

She nearly forgot how to breathe.

“You clean up nice Bueckers”Azzi whispered when she neared close enough for her to hear it,eyes flicking down to the navy suit Paige wore,the undone buttons,the chain peaking out of the collar.

Paige gave her a slow once over in return—not caring who was watching “You think so?”

Azzi smirked”You wore that suit on purpose” her voice was soft—but it carried an undertone that was only shared in moments of lust.

“I wore it just for you.”

Then Azzi moved

She stepped forward slowly and slid her arms around Paige’s neck-not rushed, just real,as if it was second nature. Her fingertips grazed the hair along Paige’s nape,warm and soft,then settled there.

The press of her body was grounding. Paige froze for half a second—like she was 17 again and Azzi Fudd had just wrapped her arms around her. Then instincts kicked in and her hands moved towards Azzi’s waist,settling just above the curve of her ass. Fingers brushing the edge of the dress where fabric met skin.

She felt the rise and fall of Azzi’s chest.

In that moment everything else disappeared. The makeup artists kept moving in the background. The camera clicked with a shutter again. Brittany murmured something to Azzi’s assistant. But Paige heard none of it.

Azzi was close enough now that her breath was right over her ear,light and steady. Her cheek lightly brushed Paige’s temple—and Paige closed her eyes at the familiar sensation. The scent of her,the way her nails lightly pressed at the back of her neck like she needed to be touching her there.

“Are you trying to kill me before the draft even starts?”Paige whispered— loud enough for only the two of them to pick up on.

She felt Azzi’s lips curve against her skin.

“No,I’m trying to make sure you remember what’s waiting for you after this.”

Paige squeezed her waist tightly at this,letting her thumbs rub along the exposed skin on her back.

She leaned in and whispered with a low sultry tone

“If you keep talking like that…”She paused her voice dragging with heat “I’ma make you regret wearing something I can’t rip clean off.”

She felt Azzi’s breath hitch at this,nails pressing hard into the pale skin of her neck.

They stood in silence after that longer than they should've.Long enough for a makeup artist to clear their throat.But neither of them pulled away quite yet.Azzi leaned back far enough to look her in the eyes

“I’d say we look pretty coordinated tonight” she said softly, fingers still brushing the skin of Paige’s neck.

“We do” she paused”Brittany did her thing”

Azzi just gave her a smile—dimples on full display.

Azzi sighed “I would kiss you right now if it didn’t smudge my lipstick.”

Paige just laughed at this “Lipstick can always be reapplied ma” she moved a hand towards Azzi’s face,cupping her cheek bone “Come here.”

Azzi unwrapped her arms around Paige’s neck and shoved her playfully

“I had to sit in that chair for hours getting this done no way im letting you mess it up”

Paige groaned mumbling under her breath “I’ve been banned from kissing..what kind of girlfriend would so such a cruel thing”

Azzi just rolled her eyes at this and grabbed Paige’s arm

“Let’s get our photos taken together before someone drags us over there”

And Paige just followed behind her.Eyes lingering maybe a little too long on the curve of Azzi’s ass

Yeah.She was definitely the luckiest woman on earth.

————————————————————————

She was seated at Azzi’s draft table,tucked between her parents and Geno,half—listening to Tim chat about the upcoming WNBA season.Paige nodded at the right moments ,but her eyes kept drifting—drawn like a magnet to the woman beside her.

Azzi sat nearly still,but Paige caught the way her teeth tugged anxiously at the soft skin of her bottom lip.

Without a word Paige slipped her hand under the table,resting it gently on Azzi’s upper thigh.She squeezed

Without a word Paoge slipped her hand under the table,resting it gently on Azzi’s upper thigh.She squeezed

Azzi didn’t speak just t turned her head and gave her that look.

The one that made Paige feel like her chest would split open from how much love it was holding.The one she’d spend the rest of her life chasing.No cameras.Just Azzi and those eyes,full of everything they’d survived to get to this point.

Then the commissioner stepped up to the mic.The entire arena hushed as she greeted the crowd.

Paige didn’t look at the stage.She just looked at Azzi.

“With the number one pick in the WNBA draft” the commissioners voice echoed off the walls. “The Golden State Valkyries select…Azzi Fudd, University of Connecticut"

A wave of cheers and applause broke out.Accompanied by the shuttering of cameras.The sounds felt distant to Paige like she was underwater

Azzi rose slowly from her seat,braids slipping back over her shoulders as she stood.

And them,without hesitation she turned to Paige first

She didn’t think.Just wrapped her arms around her tightly and held on.

Azzi’s arms wove tightly around her back.Paige felt the silk dress against her chest,the slight tremble of Azzi’s breath,the heat of the skin where her hand met her bare back.For a second nothing else mattered but them.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” Paige whispered into her ear

Azzi didn’t say anything, just nodded into her shoulder,silent but soft.

Then she turned to hug Tim,Katie,then Geno—who was definitely crying,and definitely getting teased for it later.

And then was walking towards the stage.

Paige sat down and watched as Azzi took the crisp Valkyries jersey with her name in bold print—holding it with the quiet grace she always carried.The quiet grace Paige had fallen in love with the moment they met.The crowd roared and Azzi smiled—wide,with those dimples anyone could fall in love with.

Paige had to bite the inside of her cheek hard—-almost enough to draw blood.

Because at that moment?

She wanted to run up there.She wanted to kiss her stupid.She wanted to press her forhead to Azzi’s head and tell her how much she deserved this,how much she earned this.She wanted to rewind every second of this night just to feel it again.

Instead she just sat perfectly still.Eyes burning with tears

She had dreamed of this night more than her own.Dreamed of watching the woman she loved—after injury,after doubt ,after the world kept asking if she would come back—finally step into the light that was meant for her.

She was sure she had never felt more proud in her life

Azzi Fudd.Number one pick

The love of her life.

Her Valk.

——————————————————————-

A week later Azzi had been invited to a private tour of the Valkyries Facility.She had insisted Paige accompany her.Even though Paige would soon be an opponent.She still wanted her moral support to steady her nerves(which she would never tell Paige was the reason).

The Valkyries facility was pristene—new wood,new glass,new history waiting to be made.Azzi tried to act unphased as she walked through the wide double doors,but her chest was tight with nerves she hadn’t expected.The last few days had been a blur—the draft,press,fittings,cameras,and now here she was,officially part of the W.

She glanced beside her as Paige followed her in,sunglasses tucked into her collar, a relaxed half smirk on her face like she owned the place,even though it wasn’t her team’s practice court.

“You’re not gonna like it too much right?” Azzi teased under her breath.”I still have to play against you.”

Paige just grinned “Im just here to be a supportive girlfriend.Totally neutral”

Azzi gave her a look

“Fine” Paige added.”I’ll clap quietly when you get you in a shot.Maybe”.

They didn’t get much further before a familiar voice called out from across the hallway.

“Well,well,well.Look who brought her ex-teamate-slash rival to work”

Azzi turned to see Kate Martin Jogging over, a wide grin stretched across her face.Tiffany Hayes and Veronica Burton weren’t far behind,looking equally amused

“I didn’t bring a rival” Azzi said,trying to steady her voice.

Tiffany raised an eyebrow “That looks like Paige Bueckers to me.Pretty sure she cooked us last season”

“She had 24” Kate added,helpful yet annoying”We lost in OT”

Azzi groaned

“She’s not here to spy” she said “She’s here for moral support.And i wanted her to see the facility.”

“Mhmmm” Tiffany said,eyeing Paige”And how moral is that support,exactly?”

Paige stepped forward,hand on Azzi’s hip,a spark of mischief bouncing in her eyes”You know i offered to keep it professional.But someone begged me to come”

Azzi shot her a glare “I did not beg.”

She’s not here to spy” she said “She’s here for moral support.And i want her to see the facility.”

Kate whistled”Damn its like that”

Azzi just shook her head in annoyance

Veronica nudged her “They’re just saying—bold move bringing in your former backcourt partner info enemy territory.Not sure Coach would approve”

“I already cleared it” Azzi said and turned,starting down towards another hallway”Tours happening anyways.If anyone wants to act normal for 5 minutes”

Behind her Veronica whispered loud enough for everyone to hear,”Act normal?Girl that was us being polite”

Paige laughed,low and pleased,jogging to catch up with her agitated girlfriend.

“I think they already love you” she said as she fell into stride with Azzi.

“I don’t know.They seemed kind of standoffish” Azzi muttered,biting her lip.

Paige bumped her shoulder lightly “They were teasing.Everyone loves you” She paused smiling “Though no way they will love you as much as I do”

Azzi laughed,mumbling a returned I love you.She reached over enclosing her hand in Paige’s

It was a new court.A new team.

Yet Paige still felt like her home

——————————————————————

Paige hated to admit it but the Valks facility was immaculate.High ceilings,sleek floors—a clear sign of a new building.Azzi was practically glowing as she walked through it all—the hardwood court stretching beneath her feet,the rafters where banners filled with accomplishments would be hung in the future.Watched as she introduced herself to team staff—a nervous smile tugging at her lips.

Paige stood a little to the side,on the edge of these moments,trying her best to not look too obvious.But she couldn’t help it.Azzi was radiant,her energy infected as she toured the facility like it was made for her.She’d always been so calm,so composed on the court,but in this moment,in this space—her new space—she looked giddy.

Paige’s eyes traced every movement,every flicker of excitement on her face.When Azzi reached the locker room,she ran her fingers over the new locked with her name embroidered on it,the plaque catching the light.Azzi’s fingers lingered for a moment,brushing across the surface, like she couldn’t believe it was real.Paige had seen her confident,focused,driven, and excited.But now she was amazed…She was seeing it,living it,all for the first time.

Azzi grinned at the nameplate shaking her head slightly,”This is crazy” she whispered to herself,but Paige caught it—and something in her chest swelled. Azzi was so genuine in this moment.So unguarded.Her excitement was as bright as her smile,and Paige was lost in it.

When Azzi turned and caught Paige looking she blinked for a second—as if she had just realized Paige was watching her.There was no embarrassment,no hesitation,it felt for a second like the whole room disappeared.The way her lips parted, just enough to speak.The way her eyes softened,in the the way they only did when she looked at Paige.

“You okay baby?” Azzi asked,the spark still in her eyes,her voice still laced with excitement.

Paige swallowed,forcing herself to breathe again.”Yeah” she said,but a tear escaped the corner of her eye

Her emotions were a traitor

“Im just so fucking proud of you” she choked

Azzi’s smile widened,and her heart skipped a beat,smiling knowing she was this loved.

“Thanks P” she said softly,eyes never leaving Paige “It still feels like a dream.”

Paige’s chest tightened,as she looked at Azzi standing there,so full of life,so full of hope in this moment.Her heart was full of something that somehow felt stronger then love,it almost hurt.

Azzi turned back to the locker for a minute,then shot a look over her shoulder,meeting Paige’s gaze again.”I’m just…I never thought I'd be here.You know?After everything.”

Paige didn’t say anything for a couple seconds,too caught up in the rawness. of it all,but she shook her head,her smile softening

“I know” she said quietly”I know exactly how you feel”

Azzi smiled—turning back in the direction of the court she would soon call hers.”I can’t wait to get out there”

Paige didn’t move.She didn’t need to.Just watched,her heart swelled with something so deep and soft for Azzi that it made everything else blur.

It was the same feeling Paige had when they were together,back at UConn .But here in this moment,Paige bathed in it—Azzi was living her dream right here,and it was something Paige would never grow tired of watching.

Azzi walked back towards her new home court with that same quiet confidence,but there was something different about her today.She was more than just a rookie.She was home.And Paige standing in the background,was once again reminded that she was already in love with the way Azzi moved through the world,the way she embraced her victories,no matter how small.And Paige vowed in that moment to be there for every single victory—always watching in awe.Proud.Always in Azzi’s corner

——————————————————————

A few weeks later,Azzi found herself in the depply cursed ritual known as moving.

Boxes were stacked like a skyline around her brand new apartment,the scent of fresh paint still lingering in the air.Sweat clung to her temple,her hair hung low and clinging to her back in the effort.She’d forgotten how much she loathed this process.The hauling.The lifting.The chaos of unpacking cardboard.

Good thing she had a tall,annoyingly helpful hot blonde girlfriend who made a sport out of it.

“Bet you wish you had guns like these” Paige teased,attempting to lift a heavy box with one arm like she was in a strongman competition.Her biceps flexed under the strain,and she flashed Azzi that cocky smile—the one that always walked the fine line between charming and maddening.

Azzi raised an eyebrow,failing to bite back the smile at her lips.”Less flexing,more unpacking,Captain Biceps”

The taller girl chuckled,clearly undeterred and shot her a wink.”The sooner we finish the sooner we can break in your new bed.”

Azzi rolled her eyes,turning away so Paige wouldn’t catch the way her cheeks flushed—embarrassed that a groan worthy line was so effective.

They settled into a silent rhythm,the kind that came with knowing each other for years,Unpacking turned into a simple waltz of lifting,folding,and tossing memories into new places.Occasionally they’d bump hips,exhange a heavy glance, and maybe sneak a few makeout sessions during breaks that were definitely longer then necessary.

At one point Azzi left to grab her water bottle from the kitchen.But when she returned to the living room and caught sight of Paige her knees buckled.

Paige had peeled off her white t-shirt and slipped on the brand new Valkyries jersey Azzi had intended on giving her.It hung on her frame,brushing the tops of her black corduroy shorts.She stood in the middle of the room doing a dramatic pose in front of the mirror they left propped against the wall,flexing again.This time in Valkyries purple

Azzi froze,throat dry.Paige glanced up at the sound of her footstep,grinning like a fool.

What ya think princess” Paige paused,spinning on socked feet “Purples my colour huh”

Azzi rolled her eyes “Wearing the opposition's colors is a bold move. Even for you.”

Paige just laughed and closed the distance between them,wrapping her arms low above Azzi’s waist.Her hands—predictably,found Azzi’s ass,and Azzi didn’t even bother swatting them away this time.Instead she braced herself against Paige’s solid bicep,her fingers digging into the muscle with intent.

“You like me wearing your jersey baby?” Paige whispered,her tone suddenly gone of playfulness.

“ Does it make you wet?”.Azzi nearly collapsed at this.She didn’t answer,just grabbed Paige’s face aggressively before smashing their lips together.The kiss started off slowly at first,molten and unhurried —-as if their mouths had forgotten they weren’t starving.But it quickly grew heated as her tongue forced its way past Paige’s lips.She couldn't help but let out a moan,moving her hands to grip Paige's skin under the fabric of the jersey.

Paige broke the kiss and moved towards Azzi’s neck,lips biting into caramel skin—-then tracing gentle strokes of her tongue to contrast the harshness.Azzi surrendered to the sensation a breathless moan of Paige’s name leaving her lips.

Paige grinned against her skin.In that moment clarity struck Azzi.Tonight she wanted to be in charge

With sudden strength Azzi grabbed Paige’s bun and tugged hard,pulling her girlfriend’s mouth away from her neck.Paige whimpered but quickly shifted gears,her voice dropping into a low tone

“C’mon mama,quit playing.Let me take care of you” she whined,gripping Azzi’s ass tighter,trying to prove a point.Azzi’s breath hitched but her resolve hardened.

“No.”she remarked,low and final.

Paige’s eyes widened in confusion “What?”

“I’m in charge tonight” Azzi declared,one hand gripping Paige’s jaw,the other still tangled in her hair.Paige let out a soft frustrated whine.

“Youre gonna let me do whatever I want,and you’re gonna listen.Does that sound good baby?”

Paige nodded,suddenly too desperate for words.And Azzi hadn’t even really touched her yet

Azzi crushed their lips together again—no hesitation this time.The kiss was fierce.Hard.Messy hungry.She guided them toward the black leather couch,still gripping Paige’s bun.When they reached the couch,she released her grip,their mouths wet with shared lust.

“Take you clothes off.”

Paige didn’t respond.She just followed instruction.Fingers clutching the waistband of her shorts,sliding them slowly down to her ankles,Her boxers followed,legs trembling under Azzi’s stare.She reached for the hem of the Valkyries jersey but Azzi quickly stopped her.

“Keep it on” she commanded,voice thick and rough “I want you to wear it while I ruin you”

Paige nesrly collapsed backwards onto the couch.Azzi chuckled,loving Paige’s desperation.She pushed Paige onto the cushions,watching with heated eyes as she shed her croptop,revealing black lace that barely contained her curves.

Her hands slipped into the waistband of her own shorts,peeling them off until she stood before Paige in nothing but a matching dark set.

Straddling Paige’s lap,Azzi crushed their lips together again

Paige’s hands instinctively moved towards Azzi’s hips but Azzi slapped them away with a playful tut.

“Who said you could touch?

“But—“

Azzi silenced her with a hand over her mouth.”Can you be a good girl for me?”

Her fingers danced Paige’s scalp,the power of dominance humming through her veins.The rare kind Paige rarely let her hold.

Azzi’s lips found Paoge’s neck with a deep hunger,seeking a pulse point.Her teeth bit hard on pale skin.Then slow and calculated,she traced the mark with her tongue,licking up the entire length of her throat—teasing,claiming and owning.

She quickly sat up—effectively no longer straddling Paige.

Azzi rolled her eyes “Wearing the opposition's colors is a bold move. Even for you.”

Paige just laughed and closed the distance between them,wrapping her arms low above Azzi’s waist.Her hands—predictably,found Azzi’s ass,and Azzi didn’t even bother swatting them away this time.Instead she braced herself against Paige’s solid bicep,her fingers digging into the muscle with intent

“You like me wearing your jersey baby?” Paige whispered,her tone suddenly gone of playfulness.

“ Does it make you wet?”.Azzi nearly collapsed at this.She didn’t answer,just grabbed Paige’s face aggressively before smashing their lips together.The kiss started off slowly at first,molten and unhurried —-as if their mouths had forgotten they weren’t starving.But it quickly grew heated as her tongue forced its way past Paige’s lips.She couldn't help but let out a moan,moving her hands to grip Paige's skin under the fabric of the jersey.

Paige broke the kiss and moved towards Azzi’s neck,lips biting into caramel skin—-then tracing gentle strokes of her tongue to contrast the harsh harshness.Azzi surrendered to the sensation a breathless moan of Paige’s name leaving her lips.

Paige grinned against her skin.In that moment clarity struck Azzi.Tonight she wanted to be in charge

With sudden strength Azzi grabbed Paige’s bun and tugged hard,pulling her girlfriend’s mouth away from her neck.Paige whimpered but quickly shifted gears,her voice dropping into a low tone

“C’mon mama,quit playing.Let me take care of you” she whined,gripping Azzi’s ass tighter,trying to prove a point.Azzi’s breath hitched but her resolve hardened.

“No.”she remarked,low and final.

Paige’s eyes widened in confusion “What?”

“I’m in charge tonight” Azzi declared,one hand gripping Paige’s jaw,the other still tangled in her hair.Paige let out a soft frustrated whine.

“Youre gonna let me do whatever I want,and you’re gonna listen.Does that sound good baby?”

Paige nodded,suddenly too desperate for words.And Azzi hadn’t even really touched her yet

Azzi crushed their lips together again—no hesitation this time.The kiss was fierce.Hard.Messy hungry.She guided them toward the black leather couch,still gripping Paige’s bun.When they reached the couch,she released her grip,their mouths wet with shared lust.

“Take you clothes off.”

Paige didn’t respond.She just followed instruction.Fingers clutching the waistband of her shorts,sliding them slowly down to her ankles,Her boxers followed,legs trembling under Azzi’s stare.She reached for the hem of the Valkyries jersey but Azzi quickly stopped her.

“Keep it on” she commanded,voice thick and rough “I want you to wear it while I ruin you”

Paige nearly collapsed backwards onto the couch.Azzi chuckled,loving Paige’s desperation.She pushed Paige onto the cushions,watching with heated eyes as she shed her croptop,revealing black lace that barely contained her curves.

Her hands slipped into the waistband of her own shorts,peeling them off until she stood before Paige in nothing but a matching dark set.

Straddling Paige’s lap,Azzi crushed their lips together again

Paige’s hands instinctively moved towards Azzi’s hips but Azzi slapped them away with a playful tut.

“Who said you could touch?

“But—“

Azzi silenced her with a hand over her mouth.”Can you be a good girl for me?”

Her fingers danced Paige’s scalp,the power of dominance humming through her veins.The rare kind Paige rarely let her hold.

Azzi’s lips found Paoge’s neck with a deep hunger,seeking a pulse point.Her teeth bit hard on pale skin.Then slow and calculated,she traced the mark with her tongue,licking up the entire length of her throat—teasing,claiming and owning.

She quickly sat up—effectively no longer straddling Paige.

She quickly settled on her knees between Paige’s legs.Paige was already trembling for her,thighs parted,folds glistening in the light of the room.The Valkyries jersey was ridden up to her hips.Leaving her cunt in perfect view

“Fuck baby…” azzi murmured,fingers grazing the pale skin of Paige’s thighs “This pussy is so soaked for me”.Paige whimpered clawing her fingers imto the leather of the couch.Azzi leaned in pressing a soft kiss just abive her mound.Then another.Then a third one much closer now.She dragged her tongue slowly through Paige’s folds,groaning as she tasted her—tangy and warm,just for her.

“God,you taste like heaven”Azzi rasped,nose brushing against Paige’s clit. Paige let out a choked noise,hips twitcjing into Azzi’s mouth

“Baby please”she whined,voice thin and needy.”Stop teasing me”

But Azzi didn’t respond with words.Instead,she tightened her grip on her thighs and spread them wider—staring up at her like she was about to destroy her.Which she was

“Beg.” Azzi stated simply

Paige’s head fell back,frustration evident in her tone”Please…fuck,Az,I need your mouth.I need you inside me—dont make me wait anymore”

“Good girl”

She dove in with no warning.Just her mouth devouring Paige’s pussy,tongue parting her folds in slow deliberate strokes.Paige gasped,arching up,but Azzi was ready—she flattened her tongue and licked up over and around her clit in tight circles before closing her lips around it and sucking hard.

Paige cried out

Her hands shot to Azzi’s head,fingers twisting into her hair,but Azzi caught her wrists and pinned them to the couch.

“Stay still”

Paige nodded frantically,panting as her legs quivered.Azzi released her wrists but didn’t break her rhythm—she licked paige with a steady intensity,tongue dragging slow then quick,relentless and then tender,building Paige’s orgasm with every motion.

She didn’t relent.She didn’t stop.She just stared up at Paige,pupils blown wide,as if this is what she was made for.

“Fuck,fuck Azzi your—tongue—“ Paige babbled,eyes fluttering,voice catching with each moan

Azzi growled low against her,causing Paige’s hips to twitch up in response.She switched her angle,tongue fucking deep into Paige’s entrance now,slow and watm—whilst her thumb circled her clit with maddened precision.

“You look so pretty when you’re falling apart for me” Azzi whsipered pulling back to speak—her mouth covered in Paige’s arousal.

“G-god fuck baby—“ Paige let out a wanton moan tilitiing her head back and closing her eyes..

“Keep those eyes open for me baby.I want to see you”.Azzi let go of Paige’s thigh in favour of spreading Paige’s folds open with her fingers—- allowing her tongue to go deeper inside her gummy walls.

Paige bit her lip hard—nearly drawing blood as she felt the coil in her stomach tighten.

“Fuck Azzi…just like that” she whimpered”Im so close baby”.She shook her head into Paige’s core as she fucked her with her tongue.Paige’s breaths started to quicken .Then Azzi hit a particularly spongey spot inside Paige—making her let out a guttural moan in response.

“Im so close Az,please dont stop—fuck,I’m gonna—-”

But Azzi pulled away.Completely

Paige let out an animalistic noise—somewhere between a sob and scream.Her whole body tensed—desperate,soaked and feral

“Why—“ she panted voice wrecked “Why’d you stop”

Azzi rose up slowly,abs tensing with the effort

“Because i want to watch you cum with my name on your back”.Paige just nodded—still panting from her stolen orgasm.

She grabbed Paige by the throat to force her into a sloppy kiss—Paigr moaned at the taste of her own arousal.Tongue darting outside to taste herself as much as she could. Azzi pulled back—a string of saliva connecting their mouths.

“Get up baby and bend over the couch for me”Azzi stroked her cheek.Paige’s lips were bitten and swollen—eyes glossy.

She rose,shaky on her legs,and bent over the arm of the couch,her breaths shallow.The Valkyries jersey clung to her back,sweat soaked and twisted enough for “FUDD” to stand out across her back in bold purple letters.

Azzi quickly followed,standing behind Paige.Azzi took a moment—maybe too long—just to stare.

The jersey,the curve of Paige’s spine,her ass perched perfectly,thighs trembling with anticipation.She was dripping down her legs.Waiting.Submitting.

Azzi hummed in approval,stepping forward to run her palms up Paige’s thighs,slow and reverent.”You wearing my name like this?Baby…you’re asking to get ruined.”

Paige whimpered pressing her forhead into the leather cushion “Please.Azzi.I need you.”

Azzi tucked paige’s jersey higher,folding it into Paige’s sports bra to keep the view clear.Then she spread Paige’s legs wider with a nudge of her thigh,biting her lip at the sight of her soaked,twitching cunt.

She hummed in satisfaction,thumb stroking along Paige’s ass before pulling back to give it a quick slap.Paige’s hips pressed back at the action—a whimper falling from her lips

“Arch more for me baby” Paige pressed her body further down into the couch at Azzi’s request—recieving another slap to the ass in response.

“Look at this pussy..” Azzi breathed.She dragged two fingers through Paige’s folds,fluid coating her fingers instantly.” So fucking wet.Is that all for me?”

Paige nodded furiously,gasping as Azzi teased her entrance with the pad of her fingers.

Azzi smirked then thrust inside—two fingers driving deep into her in one fluid motion.

Paige cried out,hands clawing into the leather.

Azzi didn’t give her time to adjust.She set a punishing rhythm right away,knuckle-deep strokes curling upward with each thrust,fingers fucking into Paige with intent,her palm brushing her clit on every pass.

“God,Mommy—fuck—“Paige sobbed,the words tumbling out as her hips rocked back against her hand “S-so deep”

Azzi leaned over,chest brushing Paige’s back,lips ghosting over her ear”You’re taking me so well baby,so tight for me.”

Paige had long since given up on being quiet— letting out loud guttural whines and babbling nonsensically.With every thrust she met Paige’s clit—red swollen and throbbing from the denial of the previous orgasm.With her other hand she traced the letters of her last name on Paige’s back—her name on full display as she ruined Paige.

She reached up and grabbed a handful of Paige’s now messy bun,yanking her head back so their eyes could meet in the reflection of the mirror left leaning on the wall across the room.

“Look at yourself. wearing my name like a slut.Are you my slut baby?”Paige’s eyes darkened at this she tried to get the words out but nothing came—-it was if she was too fucked out to speak.She moved her hand to roughly grip Paige’s cheekbones at this—-fingers still destroying Paige’s walls.

“I asked you a question baby” Paige moaned—eyes watering

“Y-yes fuck mommy I’m such a slut for you.” Paige moaned,gaze glassy,breath’s coming out in stutters.Her thighs were shaking,knees buckling between the pleasure.

The sounds in the room were absolutely filthy.Nothing but the sound of Paige’s slick filled the space—the creek of the couch as Azzi's fingers pounded into her.

“You close?” Azzi asked,voice low,almost teasing,she slid in a third finger without warning.

Paige screamed.

Her body jerked,hips grinding back frantically as her walls clenched around Azzi’s hand.She couldn’t answer.Just nodded over and over,face flushed eyes rolling back.

Azzi’s free hand came around to harshly circle her clit,quick and relentless.”Come for me.Now” she growled into Paige’s neck “Soak my fucking fingers.”

Paige shattered.

Her whole body convulsed,legs giving out as her orgasm hit her like a freight train.She cried Azzi’s name over and over,walls pulsing around her fingers,slick gushing down her thighs.

Azzi didn’t stop.

She kept fucking her through it relentless and deep,even as Paige whined,trembled—attempting to twist away from the overstimulation.Azzi’s hand reached back up and tighted around her hair.She yanked sharply,forcing her head back so their eyes locked—wild,desperate and starving.

Paige whimpered her mouth parting as Azzi leaned down and spat deliberately into her waiting mouth.The taste was raw,possesive

“Swallow” Azzi growled.

Paige obeyed without hesitation,swallowing the spit with a shaky gulp,eyes wide and completely undone.

Good girl” she pushed paige’s face into the couch cushion—muffling her loud moans.She felt Paige’s walls tighten around her—curling her fingers into Paige’s gummy spot.She drove harder—fighting the resistance of Paige's walls sucking her in.

“Stop mommy its too much” Paige gasped,desperation and want battling for control in her voice.But her hips betrayed her,chasing Azz’s fingers with frantic desperation.

Azzi just smirked “No baby.one more.You’re begging arent you?She’s still begging for me”

Paige nodded shakily letting out a breathless” Ok”

Azzi pulled back and removed her fingers out—slow and slick,strings of arousal clinging between her hand’s and Paige’s pulsing heat.

Paige groaned at the stark emptiness.Pushing her hips back and meeting Azzi’s eyes

“God” Azzi whimpered,bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking them clean.Paige whimpered at the slurping noise,at the look in Azzi's eyes—ravenous and in control.

Azzi dropped to her knees behind her,hands spreading Paige’s cheeks apart.She could see her twitching,the aftermath of the overstimulation written all over her body.The wetness had accumulated down to her thighs.

And yet she was still wet.Still throbbing

“She’s not done” Azzi murmured almost to herself “This pussy’s crying for me.”

Without warning she drove back in.

Her tongue licked through Paige’s folds with a purpose that was almost brutal.She flattened it against her entrance and dragged up in one long stroke before wrapping her lips around her clir and sucking.Hard

Paige shrieked.

Her hands clawed at the cushions,nails digging in desperately

“A-Azzi fuck,please,I can’t” she sobbed hips jerking in attempt to move away.

Instead Azzi held her down.Moving a muscled arm around her waist,the other gripping her thigh.

“You can” Azzi growled into her “You will.”

Her tongue flicked against Paige’s clit in tight,rushed strokes,her rhythm merciless.Then she dipped down again,thrusting her tongue into Paige’s cunt like it was the only thing in the world that mattered—like she’d die without it.

The blonde’s body twitched with overstimulation.Her head shook side to side in denial,but her hips still pushed back again—chasing every lick,every breath.She was unraveling.

“I’m gonna cum again” Paige gasped,voice high pitched and frantic.”I c-cant stop—Az,baby please—“

Azzi just hummed as a response.The vibrations pushing Paige over.

Her orgasm tore through her body like a tidal wave.She came hard,shaking,sobbing,gasping for air as her thighs clamped around Azzi’s head.Azzi held her through it,tongue still lapping through her folds,face and neck now entirely covered in Paige’s arousal.

When she finally collapsed,limp over the armrest,Azzi eased back,face soaked,shining with Paige’s release.She wiped Paige’s arousal off her face with her fingers and stared at her girlfriend— absolutely wrecked,body glistening.

Azzi leaned over and pulled her gently off the armrest,her touch a shocking contrast to how ruthless she had just been to her.Paige landed in a messy sprawl on the cushions,legs still trembling,lips parted and wet with spit.

She sat next to Paige and pulled her head gently into her lap and forced her mouth open

Paige knew exactly what to do

She sucked Azzi’s fingers clean,her tongue tracing every ridge and dip with eager devotion,swallowing every drop.Azzi slid her fingers deeper into Paige’s mouth,watching the way she gagged and drooled over them.

When satisfied she pulled her fingers free with a loud pop and with her other hand stroked Paige’s sweat damp hair.Whispering praise and sweet i love you’s into her ear as Paige settled,tears still streaking down her flushed face.

Paige closed her eyes.Finally feeling her soul come back into her body.

“Holy fuck,ma” Paige murmured after a long moment,voice hoarse “I should’ve worn that Jersey sooner if I knew i’d get your like that.”

Azzi laughed softly,pressing a tender kiss to Paige’s damp hair

“You did so good for me baby” she cooed,fingers still threading through Paige’s hair.

She helped Paige up,peeling the sweat soaked Valkryies jersey and bra from her glistening frame.

“Lets go clean up” Azzi murmured, voice tender,but low and steady.

Paige shook her head “I need to taste you” she pausied to lick her lips and lock eyes with Azzi.”Please”

Azzi hummed a slow approving sound,then nodded

“You want me to sit on that pretty face of yours? Azzi teased

Paige moaned softly in response,nodding eagerly as she sank back into the couch,skin meeting cold leather.Azzi straddled Paige’s hips first,then shifted forward,letting her wet heat brush against Paige’s defined abs.Her thighs trembled slightly at this,her arousal sticking to Paige’ skin.

“Take off the bra”Paige murmured

Azzi obliged,unclasping the delicate black lace and tossing it aside.Paige stared openly at her breasts,the way they moved slightly with the rise and fall of Azzi’s chest—the way her nipples peaked in the cold air of the room.

“You’re unreal” Paige whispered,like she didn’t even mean to say it outloud

Azzi then leaned down and kissed her.Not rough like before.This time slowing.Lingering,tongues brushing and lips catching

Azzi ground down against Paige’s abdomen,letting out soft whimpers muffled by their locked mouths.Then she pulled away, breath short.

Azzi hovered her slick,heated core above Paige’s eager mouth

Paige stuck out her tongue,teasing the damp fabric of Azzi’s thong before Azzi pushed the lace aside snd settled fully onto Paige’s waiting mouth.She let out a strangled groan at the firm contact of her girlfriend’s tongue.

Paige moaned like she was the one being ate.

Without hesitation she dove in,tongue swirling through Azzi’s folds like she was starved.Her moans of pleasure mixed in with the salty sweetness—hands finding Azzi’s ass,digging in,pulling her down deeper.Azzi didn’t protest—just this once—and began to rock her hips,riding Paige’s mouth in grinding circles.

Azzi’s fingers gripped Paige’s messy hair harshly,steadying her as she rocked back and forth slowly,riding the rhythm of Paige’s tongue. Paige took Azzi’s swollen clit into her mouth,nibbling then soothing it with lazy,sensuous swirls of her tongue.

Azzi’s fingers dug into Paige’s hair harder,moaning and fighting to hold onto the dominant power she claimed in their tangled heat.

“Does my pussy taste good baby?” Azzi’s voice broke with a teasing whine just as Paige’s tongue slipped deeper,flicking inside her slick canal.

Muffled by her girlfriend,Paige nodded eagerly and let out a low hum.Sending vibrations through Azzi’s core that that twisted the coil building in her stomach.

She loosened her hold on Paige’s hair and began teasing her own nipples—pinching and rolling them in time with the grinding of her hips against Paige’s face.

Paige groaned and slapped Azzi’s ass,making her let out a sharp,breathy gasp—fighting to keep control as Paige’s tongue didn’t miss a single inch,lapping and savouring every drop of her essence.

Azzi’s breath hitched as she neared the edge.

“Fuck keep eating my pussy like that,p” she gasped,rolling her nipples between her fingertips.Her hips bucked greedily against Paige’s face.

“I’m gonna fucking come for you.”

Paige didn’t relent,her movement fierce and eager,coaxing Azz over the edge with mounting moans that bounced off the walls.

Azzi crumbled with a loud,ragged moan,grinding through the peak of her orgasm before collapsing down onto Paige’s chest,attempting to gather her stuttered breathing.

Paige lay beneath her,thumb stroking Azzi’s bare back.Mouth parted in a dazed out haze,her pale skin gleaming in the soft glow of the room’s light

She couldn’t resist.Azzi stuck out her tongue and carefully cleaned every inch of Paige’s face,not missing a single drop of her own arousal.

Paige bucked her hips at this,and Azzi grinned,pressing a teasing kiss to the column of her neck

They lay there for a few minutes in silence,coming down from the intensity.

Then Azzi looked up at Paige—eyes still full of hunger

“Can you give me another baby?”Azzi smirked wickedly,her fingers tweaking Paige’s hardened nipples.Her voice dipped low and needy,dripping in lust.”I wanna cum on your pussy.”

Paige threw her head back at the filthy promise,breath hitching and eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Azzi took this as a yes

With slow deliberate movements,Azzi shifted her hips,sliding one of Paige’s legs up and resting it firmly on her shoulder,angling herself perfectly.The heat of Azzi’s core pressed hard against Paige’s,slick with their shared arousal.The contact sent an immediate shock through them ,and a loud primal moan tore from their lips simultaneously.

Azzi started off slow,grinding in calculated circles,letting the friction build and tease.But as time passed,she quickened the pace,hips rocking with growing urgency. Their puffy clits collided repeatedly in a maddening tempo—each brush sending goosebumps of pleasure riveting through their bodies.The air around them thickened with the scent of arousal.Heavy breaths and wet sounds,the relentless friction creating a symphony of choked moans and ragged gasps.

Paige’s hands stayed firmly planted on the leather,hands gripping the edges so tight her knuckles whitened. She wasn’t sure if she had permission to touch Azzi yet—so she restrained herself,eyes locked on the way Azzi’s breasts bounced with every passionate grind.

Azzi’s voice pierced through the silence,breathless and light “You wanna feel them baby?”

Paige whispered a trembling “Yes.”

Azzi grinned cunningly,pulling Paige up slightly just enough to force her mouth onto her hardened nipples.Paige’s teeth grazed the sensitive peaks,biting and tugging with growing desperation.Azzi moaned,her fingers digging deeper into Paige’s shoulders as she pushed her deeper into pleasure

“Do you love making mommy feel good?” Azzi purred ,her hand suddenly closing around Paige’s throat,applying just enough pressure to elicit a shuddering whimper.

She pushed Paige’s head back down and guided her hands towards her ass.Paige caught the hint in an instant,wrapping her fingers around the softness and helping the curly headed girl grind harder and faster against her.

Paige let out a loud broken whine,tears streaking down her flushed cheeks again as the band inside her stomach snapped tighter and tighter.

“Mommy,I’m gonna come” she groaned,hands gripping Azzi’s ass with enough force to leave half moon marks.

Azzi responded,voice equally thick with need and desire “Me too baby.Hold it for me—I’m almost there.”

Their bodies moved in perfected sync,driving against each other with wild,unfiltered abandon.

“Hmmpphh—I’m cumming on this pussy” Azzi whimpered,her voice cracking with raw emotion.”Come with me honey.”

Their orgasms crashed into each other like tidal waves—moans mixing in breathless harmony as their control shattered.Azzi collapsed fully knto Paige’s chest,both girls shaking and gasping,sweat slick and mingling om their skin.

For a long moment neither of them spoke—just the sound of steadying breaths and the warmth of skin pressed to skin

Azzi finally sighed,voice low and amused “I might need a new couch after this.”

Paige let out a hoarse laugh “Totally worth it though.”She leaned down and kissed at the skin of Azzi’s temple,a tender comparison to the wildness moments before.

“We need to get up and shower.We can’t sleep like this baby” Azzi murmured,yet nuzzled deeper into the crook of Paige’s neck.

“I know” Paige whisperd back,palm rubbing slowly against Azzi’s bare skin.”Let’s just chill here a little longer.”

Paige wanted to imprint this moment deep into her memory—the feel of Azzi’s skin,the taste of her mouth,the comfort of her voice.Nights like this would soon be rare,separated by miles and clashing schedules.But no matter where it took them,they were chasing the same dream.

Together.

Just like Paige had imagined ever since that first day they met.

[cherrychilli]

18+ Eddie Munson x f! reader, strangers to lovers, flashing(f), nipple piercings, bar fight, some moderate injuries, getting arrested WC: 1.5K Summary: A bar brawl ends with you and Eddie behind bars. What you both don't realize at first is that this terrible night is one big blessing in disguise.

The throbbing in his head is just about subsiding though the sting of his cuts and the ache of his bruises will remain longer than he'd like.

Two hours down, however more to go.

You seem to be faring much better in the cell across from him where he can see you curled up in bed and asleep, your knees drawn up to your chest and your arms wrapped around your shins.

Eddie used to think of himself as the type who could sleep anywhere, fitting his body in any space no matter the place, the angle or how narrow like some kind of game of Tetris but that was until he'd had a night like this.

Sleep would not come easily tonight.

Eddie didn't know what the creep whispering in your ear had said but he knew it couldn't have been anything charming when you emptied your long island ice tea all over his face with one quick swing of your arm.

He watched from nearby at the bar from the moment you'd walked in to when you'd tried to walk away from the man, only to be pulled back by your elbow, fury in his drenched scowling face. That was when Eddie stepped in, leaving his half finished beer behind, acting much quicker than he could think.

For a good fifteen minutes he'd been psyching himself up to come over and introduce himself to you, maybe even try out a pick up line. Nothing crude, just something to hopefully earn a laugh out of you. Not have your first interaction to be you watching him punch that dickhead in the throat, surprising all three of you.

What he had meant to do was strike the guy in his wet, boozy face. Unfortunately for him, the soggy prick happened to be an entire foot or so taller than Eddie who'd definitely miscalculated the blow.

Regardless, it was still an effective one.

Coughing wildly from having those four chunky silver rings make contact with his windpipe like that, the prick's eyes begin to water and he seemed to forget all about you as he glared down at Eddie next in the kind of way a charging bull might at a red flag.

He begins shoving people out of the way, lemon wedge stuck in his hair and ice that'd slipped into the collar of his shirt and journeyed all the way down his pants and into his shoe as he forcefully makes a path to the now very pale and shivering Eddie. That was until someone else stepped in on account of having their drink spilled, throwing a punch at the side of his head that connects with the brawny creep's ear.

That second punch is what set off some kind of chain reaction at the bar, everyone turning on each other, being shoved side to side, punches being thrown left and right.

In the struggle, Eddie catches one in the collarbone, the crowd listing this way and that. When he ended up on the floor, knocked down on to his knees and elbows all scraped up, someone else's knee sinks into his side and another fist lands between his shoulder blades.

Not the worst beat down he's ever had.

When the police sirens sounded out it only got worse, everyone trying to stampede out the back before the cops could get a hold of them.

It seemed your bad luck was yet to end, one officer getting you by the arm and another yanking Eddie back by his hair before you're both cuffed and hauled into separate patrol cars.

The few sips of your long island ice tea sit bitter in your stomach during the ride to the station. It's only when you get there that you find out that, of the whole crowd at the bar, it was just the two of you who were brought in, everyone else able to run to safety, even that overgrown knuckle dragging mule who'd started it all by getting too fresh with you. The only good thing that'd come of the night was getting to see him wheeze like a fish on land and his eyes tear up when the cute guy with the rings got him in the throat.

You were yet to learn his name.

During the time in which you're both taken in for processing you steal a few glances at him, your stomach in knots from seeing the tender plum purple bruise on his collarbone and his knuckles all red and scraped up. It's hard not to feel guilty about it.

You don't get to ponder on it too long though when one of the officers comes by to let you both know that it's time for your one phone call. Eddie uses his up on Steve who was an hour away, having a night out of his own though he's quick to drop it and begin the drive over to come bail his friend out.

Your roommate was quick to answer the phone too. You feel bad for making her worry when you tell her where you're calling from, the poor thing launching into a flurry a questions until you're able to convince her that it isn't as bad as it seems. She agrees to come over to bail you out after that, anticipating that it wont be too long of a wait since your apartment is not too far away from the station.

The stale, stagnant smell inside the cell and the stained pillow which you kick aside are two very minor things to deal with all things considered. And though his cell is across from yours, neither of you say a word. All you can do is lie on your side and wait.

Eddie refrains from breaking the silence for a few reasons. Maybe you're still shaken by the whole thing and are in no mood to talk. Or worse, maybe he'd scared you with the way he'd stepped in and thrown that first punch. The latter makes him want to curl up too but he remains as is, seated and rubbing at his sore knuckles while the minutes pass. He's not a violent man but making you think he might be makes his whole mouth turn prickly and sour.

It's the clanging of the officer's baton against the bars of your cell that gets you up, unrolling yourself from the little ball you'd curled into as she slips in a key to your cell door to get out for your release.

Out of the corner of your eye you can tell that the man with the long hair who'd intervened for your sake is gazing at you. It doesn't feel right to leave without speaking to him first.

"I should have said it sooner but thanks for trying to help. I owe you", you look up to make eye contact with him, managing a small smile.

His eyes light up at the sound of your voice.

"That's alright. It was no way to treat a lady.", he refers to the prick who'd got you both in this mess. "Specially one who looks like you."

You blink, a little stunned. And here you had been curled up and faking sleep because you guessed he might think you blameworthy for the whole incident. That maybe if you hadn't thrown your drink then he wouldn't have had to step in. Now knowing that he didn't find you responsible for how the evening turned out, your lips curve up into a bigger smile.

All you regret now is not having spoken to him sooner.

"Sweet talker."

He smiles back. "'m just being honest."

You catch the officer rolling her eyes at your flirting before she turns her back on you both, sorting out the ring of keys in her hands.

It's been a bit of a wild night and suddenly it feels like you're still riding that wave of adrenaline, blood pumping twice as fast in your veins. In that moment you figure out a much better way to say thank you.

With the few seconds that you have you act fast, turning around to pull the hem of your skirt up to let Eddie see, then twirling back around to lift your top up after.

Of all the things that could have happened following his arrest, he hadn't counted on getting to see your ass bounce and your cheeks spread to show you barely clothed in the tiniest lace thong and your jiggling tits, your pretty nipples hard and studded with glittering silver piercings.

He must have saved a Pope in a different life because this is by far the best reward he's ever received.

You pull your clothes back into place in time before the officer ushers you along towards the bullpen, your roommate busy filling out the last of some paperwork over there at another officer's desk.

"Come find me, okay?", you tell him with a big grin and a playful waggle of your fingers.

It's cute the way his jaw hangs slightly open and his face turns a very pretty shade of magenta.

Eddie springs up and brings his face up to the bars, his cheeks squished between them as he called out for you. "I don't know your name! how am I going to find you?"

That makes you giggle. "You know someone else with an ass and tits like these?", winking back like some kind of raunchy Cinderella on your way out.

Eddie grins.

Oh, he'd find you alright, and he won't rest until he can get his hands and lips all over you.

[writteninessence]

Backstage Pass pt. 6 idols!Hyunjin x Felix x Chan x Han x manager!reader

Hyunjin chuckled and reached out to adjust the strap of your top. “You should go. He looks ready to remind you who signs your permission slips.”

Felix just whispered, “Good luck,” as if it were a prayer.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, 18+, poly relationship, dom/sub dynamics, orgasm denial, punishment, semi-public sex, rough sex, oral! f receiving, creampie, aftercare, use of pet names (daddy), they call her angel, near-exhibitionism, implied unprotected sex, consensual bruising, marking, possessiveness, mild angst, light humiliation, secret relationship, power imbalance, jealousy, probably some that I missed Word Count: 3.8k+ Tags: @chasinghxran @aria-again @skyearby @jinniesgirl @imagine-all-the-imagines @sammhisphere @femaholicc @hpnsfwaddict A/N: Oh look, we've added a new character.. Enjoy <3 Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

The studio lights were too damn bright.

Or maybe it was the bags under everyone’s eyes that made them feel that way.

You walked in first, headset on, tablet in one hand, and clipboard held across your chest like a shield. You were in full manager mode again—heels clicking, voice calm, eyes sharp.

If anyone noticed the faint bruises blooming at the base of your throat, they didn’t say anything.

Chan followed behind you, black hoodie pulled low, jaw tight. Hyunjin strolled in after, sunglasses on indoors, lips still kiss-swollen, his smirk just a little too satisfied. Felix trailed last, hair freshly styled, but his limp told on him.

They were idols again now.

And you were their manager.

But the tension?

Still thick enough to drown in.

“Okay,” you said, scanning the schedule. “You’ve got vocal practice at 11, fittings at 1, and a live at 6. Let’s keep it tight, no distractions.”

“Copy,” Chan said, voice a little too low, a little too knowing.

Felix’s ears turned pink.

Hyunjin muttered something under his breath that made Chan pause mid-step.

You shot him a look. “Don’t start.”

“Didn’t say anything,” Hyunjin said with a shrug, but the smile curling at the corner of his lips was sharp.

Chan turned slowly, eyes narrowing. “No, but you’re looking at her like you did.”

You looked between them, heart stalling, and blood rushing.

Hyunjin pulled his sunglasses off and gave Chan a smirk. “Maybe I did.”

Felix coughed, nearly choking on his water.

You stepped forward, threatening. “We are at work.”

Chan’s voice was quiet, dangerous. “You still seeing her as yours, Jinnie?”

Hyunjin’s eyes flicked to yours, and you froze.

Chan stepped in front of you.

The air went dead silent.

“Watch it,” he said, voice low. “This isn’t the villa. You don’t touch her unless I say.”

Felix shifted behind you, body small, eyes wide, caught between panic and desire.

You stepped forward again, one hand flat on Chan’s chest, trying to cool the fire.

“Chris,” you whispered. “Not here.”

But his chest was rising fast. His fingers twitched like they were already reaching for the collar you weren’t wearing.

Hyunjin looked smug. Felix looked guilty. You looked like you wanted to melt into the floor.

Chan leaned in close, breath brushing your ear.

“Bathroom. Five minutes.”

Then, without waiting, he turned and walked off down the hall, hoodie swaying, tension thick in his wake.

Hyunjin chuckled and reached out to adjust the strap of your top. “You should go. He looks ready to remind you who signs your permission slips.”

Felix just whispered, “Good luck,” as if it were a prayer.

And you were already halfway to the bathroom.

You barely got the door closed before he had you pressed against it, one large hand gripping your jaw, the other yanking your skirt up your hips with rough, practiced ease.

“Did I stutter earlier?” Chan’s voice was a low growl against your cheek. “You think just because we’re back on schedule, you don’t belong to me?”

You whimpered, eyes wide, body already reacting—your thighs clenching, panties soaked, spine arching to meet him.

“Answer me.”

“N-no, Chan,” you breathed.

“Then why,” his hand slipped between your legs, two fingers grazing your soaked heat through the lace, “are you letting him talk like he’s still inside you?”

You gasped, hips jolting as he dragged the fabric aside and sank two fingers in with zero warning.

He grunted, fingers curling. “Still loose from him.”

You clenched around him, shame and heat crashing like a wave. “Chan, we can not do this here.”

He shoved his fingers deeper, silencing you with a filthy twist of his wrist.

His tone dropped lower. “Just gotta fix something real quick.”

And he dropped to his knees without another word, pulling you down with him until you were seated on the bathroom counter, legs spread, heat pulsing between you.

His mouth was on you before you could even process it.

No teasing.

Just full pressure—tongue, lips, teeth—like he was erasing every trace of Hyunjin’s touch.

You cried out, fingers digging into his hair, thighs shaking as his tongue fucked into you with a possessive rhythm.

He growled into your pussy. “You come when I say.”

Your orgasm built fast and hard, but when you bucked your hips, he pulled away.

You sobbed. “Please—”

He stood.

“You wanna come?” he hissed. “Then take your punishment.”

He turned you around, palms flat against the mirror, body trembling.

The sound of his zipper dragged down your spine like a threat.

When he thrust into you, it was sharp and brutal, and so deep.

You screamed.

The bathroom echoed with skin, moans, and the soft thump of your hands slamming against the mirror as he fucked you through the wall.

“Say my name.”

“Chan—fuck, Chan—”

“Louder.”

“Daddy—”

He snarled, hand tangling in your hair, yanking your head back so you could see your ruined reflection.

“You see that?” he rasped. “That’s mine. No one else gets to fuck you like this. Not Hyunjin. Not anyone.”

You nodded through broken sobs and ragged moans.

“You gonna let him talk to you like that again?”

“No—no.”

He reached around to rub your clit, fast and rough. “Then show me.”

Your orgasm hit like fire, legs giving out, voice raw from screaming his name. He fucked you through it, cock pulsing deep inside you, low moans escaping his throat as he emptied himself in thick, hard bursts.

You slumped forward, legs shaking, breath shallow.

Chan leaned over your back, chest rising hard against yours.

“Don’t ever forget who you answer to, Miss Manager.”

Then he kissed your shoulder, and it was soft.

Zipped himself up.

And pulled you back against his chest, adjusting your top and sliding your panties back into place like nothing had happened.

You could barely stand; he helped you to the door.

And when it opened—

Hyunjin was there.

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, smug grin painted across his perfect face.

You flinched.

Chan didn’t.

He stepped in front of you and tilted his head.

“What?” he asked, voice back to calm and cocky.

Hyunjin’s eyes slid over you—your swollen lips, trembling legs, dazed eyes—and then locked on Chan.

“I was just gonna ask if you needed help reminding her tomorrow too.”

Chan chuckled darkly. “Only if you behave.”

And Hyunjin? He smiled like he already wasn’t planning to.

The hall outside their dorm was too quiet for midnight.

You stood with your back to the door, hood pulled low, heartbeat echoing in your ears. The world outside still buzzed with stage lights and microphones, but here—in this shadowed little corner of their secret—everything felt suspended.

You knocked twice, the way you always did.

A beat later, the door cracked open.

Felix’s face appeared, hair messy, eyes warm with sleep and something deeper—relief.

“Angel,” he whispered.

He stepped aside and pulled you in gently, locking the door behind you before anyone could see. His hands were warm where they gripped your waist, lingering a second too long, like he needed to feel you were real.

Hyunjin was on the couch, blanket slung over his lap, shirtless and golden in the low lamp light. His eyes lit up when he saw you.

“Took you long enough,” he murmured with a smile.

And then Chan stepped out from the bedroom.

Just a hoodie, boxers, bare feet, and tired eyes. His hands were still stained with everything he’d done to you hours earlier.

You dropped your bag and whispered, “Hi.”

Chan crossed the room in three long steps, arms wrapping around you from behind like he couldn’t bear another second of space between you.

“Missed you,” he said against your temple.

“I was literally in your mouth six hours ago,” you whispered, choking a little on a laugh.

“Still missed you.”

And you melted.

Felix took your hand, guiding you to sit between them all on the couch, limbs tucking around yours like a puzzle — Felix at your side, Hyunjin behind you, Chan at your feet, resting his chin on your knee.

They surrounded you.

They held you.

No lust, no commands.

Just quiet love.

Chan’s fingers brushed a bruise on your thigh, a frown creasing his brow. “Too rough?”

You shook your head, blinking slowly. “Just enough.”

Felix pressed his lips to your shoulder, a gentle kiss like a secret prayer.

Hyunjin curled a blanket around the three of you, sighing against your neck. “I hate that we have to hide you like this.”

“I don’t,” Chan said quietly. “I mean, I hate the hiding, but I love this. The sneaking in, the risk. It makes it feel like something worth protecting.”

You looked down, heart swelling.

“Still…” you whispered, voice trembling. “Sometimes I wish I could kiss you when you’re mic’d up. Or hold Felix’s hand after interviews. Or let Hyunjin carry my bags like he always wants to.”

Felix smiled softly, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand. “One day.”

“One day,” Chan repeated, pressing a kiss to your knee.

Hyunjin wrapped his arms tighter around your waist, his voice low and sleepy. “Until then, we’ll keep stealing moments like this.”

“Stealing?” you mumbled. “Feels more like coming home.”

Chan pulled himself up onto the couch, settling you in his lap, your legs draped over Felix’s, your back tucked to Hyunjin’s chest.

You were cradled.

Crushed in love and safety.

And in that dim dorm light, no fans, no stage, no flashing cameras—just the soft inhale of three boys who’d do anything for you—your eyes fluttered closed.

Not out of exhaustion.

But peace.

It was still quiet when you cracked your eyes open.

Soft breathing hummed all around you. A faint bird called through the sliver of an open window.

You were squished in the middle of a sleepy dogpile on the couch, half-covered in blankets, wearing someone’s shirt—Felix’s, you thought, from how it still smelled like cinnamon and studio sweat.

Hyunjin’s arm was around your waist, fingers twitching in his sleep, face nuzzled into your neck. Chan was curled against your legs, head resting on your shin like he meant to keep you there forever.

And Felix was next to you, watching you with soft, crinkled eyes and a smile like sunrise.

“Morning,” he whispered, brushing a curl off your cheek.

You blinked, still dream-hazy. “You’ve been awake?”

“Didn’t wanna move. You looked so peaceful.”

Hyunjin grumbled in his sleep, pulling you closer with a sleepy “Mmm.”

Felix laughed under his breath. “See?”

You smiled and reached for his hand, squeezing gently. “I should go.”

Felix frowned but nodded. “They’ll be up soon.”

Chan stirred, opening one eye. “Ten more minutes.”

You kissed his temple. “I wish.”

He groaned but let you go, sliding off you with the grace of a man very much not ready to give up his favorite pillow.

You carefully peeled Hyunjin’s arm from your waist. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like your name, but didn’t wake.

Felix followed you toward the door on tiptoe.

Your shoes were by the entryway, and your bag had fallen over, spilling a tube of lip balm and your phone charger.

You crouched to pick them up—and when you stood, Felix was right behind you, hands on your hips, lips brushing the back of your neck.

“Can I kiss you goodbye?”

You turned, heart full, and nodded. “Always.”

His lips were soft and unhurried, thumbs stroking your waist. It wasn’t lust—it was home.

But just as his tongue brushed yours—

“…Lixie?”

You froze.

Felix pulled back so fast he nearly knocked his head on the coat rack.

You both turned slowly.

Standing in the hallway, hair a mess and eyes squinting under the fluorescent light, was Jisung.

You weren’t sure how long he’d been standing there, unsure how much he saw.

Felix cleared his throat. “Morning.”

You straightened your hoodie. “I—I was just dropping off Felix’s charger. It was in my bag.”

Jisung looked between the two of you. Slowly. Suspiciously.

He yawned. “…You always kiss people when you give back chargers?”

You opened your mouth—nothing came out.

Felix scratched his neck, blush spreading up to his ears. “It was… gratitude for the charger. It’s a really good one. Fast-charging.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Jisung blinked.

“Okay…” He turned and walked away.

You and Felix both stared at the empty hallway, hearts racing.

“Did he just—?”

“He knows,” Felix whispered.

You looked at him.

He looked at you.

And you hurried out the door like there was a fire at your feet.

T he dorm kitchen was buzzing by 9 AM. 

Dim lighting, one pan still greasy from the eggs, the quiet clink of chopsticks on ceramic. And the boys—tired, tangled from sleep, hair a mess, voices low.

Chan stood with his back to the counter, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, mug warm in his hands.

But his head wasn’t in the kitchen.

It was still with you.

He’d kissed every bruise that still lingered across your body, fading, but not fully gone. Even the ones Hyunjin had marked first and the ones Felix had begged for.

You were back in your apartment now, tucked into your own sheets.

And his heart hadn’t slowed since.

“Chan,” Jisung said, breaking the quiet. “Can I ask you something?”

Chan blinked, sipping his coffee slowly, cautiously.

“Sure.”

Han raised a brow, casual, calculated.

“You know your manager’s got a hickey the size of Busan on her collarbone?”

Chan didn’t move, didn’t flinch. His mug stayed steady in his hands.

But his heart?

It fucking spiked.

Hyunjin, seated beside Seungmin, stopped mid-bite.

Felix choked softly on his water.

Lee Know looked up from his phone.

“Does she?” Chan asked, calm as a still lake.

Han grinned over his spoon. “Mmhm. Saw it yesterday when she leaned down to pick up her bag. Right above the neckline. Definitely fresh. Definitely not from sleepwalking.”

Hyunjin looked away, chewing his lip.

Felix suddenly found the table very interesting.

Mihno narrowed his eyes and looked around the room, like he was trying to do math in real-time.

Changbin sipped his protein shake, suspiciously quiet.

“You think she’s seeing someone?” Jeongin asked innocently.

Jisung shrugged, spooning more rice. “She’s glowing.”

“D’you see how wrecked she looked when she got here this morning?” Minho chimed in. “She walked like someone had rearranged her whole spine.”

Felix’s ears turned red.

Hyunjin rubbed at the base of his neck.

And Chan?

Chan smiled.

That slow, dangerous smile he only ever pulled when he was feeling real confident—or real close to cracking.

“Maybe she’s just working hard,” he said, sipping his coffee again. “Y’know, keeping you all in line.”

“Or someone’s keeping her in bed,” Jisung shot back, lifting a brow.

Silence.

Thick.

Hyunjin met Chan’s eyes across the table, and the look they shared was wordless.

Tense.

Territorial.

Felix gave a soft cough, his leg bouncing beneath the table.

Chan leaned back against the counter, watching them all.

Measuring what they did—and didn’t—say.

He could feel the shift in the room, the suspicion. The way Jisung kept glancing between the three of them. The way Minho was suddenly watching him, like he’d caught wind of something too quiet to ignore.

He tilted his head slightly.

“I’m sure,” Chan said slowly, “that if she was seeing someone… she’d tell us. Right?”

Hyunjin huffed under his breath.

Felix didn’t speak.

And Chan knew, in that moment, that everyone in that room had clocked it.

Maybe not the whole picture.

But enough.

Too much.

The table quieted again.

Jisung went back to eating like he hadn’t just lit a fuse and walked away.

And Chan?

He kept sipping his coffee.

On the inside, He was already thinking about how to rearrange your schedule. Get you in a meeting room alone. Maybe drag you into his lap before anyone else saw you glowing again.

Because Daddy was losing control of the room.

And he needed to remind them who was in charge.

And because he’s BangChan, he managed it. He booked the conference room, shutting the door with a quiet click.

You stood with your arms crossed, pretending to scroll your tablet. Your legs ached, and your hoodie didn’t do much to hide the light bruising beneath your collarbone.

You weren’t sure if the ache in your body or the heat in Chan’s stare was more distracting.

He hadn’t said a word since you walked in. Just leaned against the door like a man with too many thoughts and not enough control.

“You dragged me in here to talk about the schedule?” you asked, voice low, trying to sound casual.

Chan raised an eyebrow, crossing the room in three slow steps.

“You let them see, didn’t you?” His voice was soft, but it burned.

“Let who see?”

“Jisung.”

You looked up at him, defiant.

“He saw a bruise, not a sex tape.”

Chan smiled. Not warm, but possessive.

“You didn’t cover it well enough.”

“I didn’t realize I needed to wear a turtleneck in July, Chris.”

His hand caught your chin, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw, tilting your head gently until your eyes met his.

You hated the way your knees softened.

“You’re mine,” he murmured. “Every mark on you says it. You think I like other people noticing what I leave on your skin?”

You swallowed, your voice caught.

“But you won’t say it out loud,” you whispered. “Won’t tell them.”

“I don’t need to. Not yet.” His thumb dragged down to your throat, pressing lightly where a faint bruise still bloomed. “They’ll see soon enough.”

He leaned in, brushing your ear with his lips. “But you need to remember.”

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you into him, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You still sore?” he asked, softer now.

You nodded.

“Good,” he whispered.

And then he kissed you—soft, not claiming, not wild, just certain.

The kind of kiss that said you belong to me, even if no one else knows yet.

Later that day, you called a full group meeting in the main room—stylists, staff, and the boys all scattered across couches and chairs, half of them blinking, confused.

“I just wanna make something clear,” you started, standing at the head of the room, arms crossed, back straight.

Chan sat near the window, hoodie up, legs wide, ankle resting on his knee like he was just observing.

Hyunjin sat low on the couch, watching you with a lazy smile.

Felix couldn’t stop fidgeting.

You took a breath.

“My personal life,” you said slowly, “is exactly that. Personal. I don’t ask about your late-night texts or where you sneak off after schedule, so don’t ask about mine.”

Seungmin looked amused.

Lee Know narrowed his eyes.

Han?

Han stared directly at Chan.

You didn’t notice—but Chan did.

He felt the weight of it. Han’s gaze cutting straight through the silence.

And still—

Chan didn’t flinch.

Didn’t blink.

Just sipped his water, and watched you.

With that look.

The one he only gave you when he thought no one was watching.

The one that said I’d rip the world apart for you.

Jisung’s head tilted. Barely, slowly.

And that was it.

That was the moment.

The shift.

His eyes flicked from you… back to Chan… and stayed there.

You finished, voice even. “Let’s stay focused on the comeback. No distractions.”

People nodded.

There were quiet murmurs of agreement.

The meeting adjourned, and the room emptied slowly.

But he stayed. He didn’t say anything until later, when the room’s cleared and it’s just the five of them left: the four people radiating guilty heat and him, standing in the middle like someone trying to find the fire exit in an open field.

“Okay,” he spoke slowly, cracking his knuckles, “So… I just wanna make sure I understand this. Just for science.”

Chan sighs. “Jisung—”

“No, no, no, don’t Jisung me right now. I’m trying to walk through the timeline.” He paces. “So this has been a thing? An actual thing? Like plural? Multiple? As in, Felix and Hyunjin and you—” he points at Chan with the betrayal of someone who just found out their favorite anime ended on a cliffhanger— “are all with her?”

Silence.

Hyunjin winced.

Felix stared at the wall like it was the most fascinating thing he’d seen all day.

You don’t deny it.

Jisung flung his hands up. “Okay! Cool! Great! Love that for you guys; super romantic.

You blink. “Wait, Jisung—”

“Don’t worry about it! It’s fine! I’m over it. Totally unbothered and not at all spiraling.”

Chan rubs his temples. “You’re spiraling.”

“Of course I’m spiraling!” Jisung yells. “You’re living out the plot of a fanfic and I’m out here like some tragic B-side track with no chorus!”

There’s a pause.

Then Felix, trying to lighten the mood, mumbles, “You’re not a B-side, hyung.”

“Shut up, Felix, you’ve got hickeys from someone’s managerial guidance, and I haven’t been touched since the last comeback.”

Your mouth opens and closes.

Jisung paces again. Then spins around. “So what, you guys have meetings? Like, do you vote on who gets to cuddle her first? Do you draw straws for back scratches? Is there a shared Google Calendar for emotional intimacy?”

Hyunjin lets out a weak laugh.

“No, seriously, what’s next? A color-coded spreadsheet for who gets which side of the bed? Are there membership tiers? Is there a waiting list? Because if there is, I want to be on it. Immediately.”

Chan frowns. “Jisung…”

“Look, I’m not saying I’m hurt,” he says, voice cracking with not hurt, “but I’m hurt. And also, maybe, a little bit turned on?”

That brings a chorus of groans.

“I’m kidding! Kinda. I think?” He runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, I’m joking because otherwise I’ll start crying and throw a mic at someone. Probably Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin blinks. “Why me?!”

“Because you’re tall and pretty and your neck looks like it’s been vampire-attacked.” 

You step forward, finally, gently, your voice soft. “Jisung… I didn’t tell you because I knew this would be hard. For so many reasons, but this isn’t about you being left out. It’s just about us trying to protect something that matters.”

He stares at you. Long and deep. Like he’s searching your eyes for some kind of loophole.

When he doesn’t find one, he exhales. And mutters:

“…If you’re gonna ruin my life, at least let me watch.”

Felix nearly chokes.

Chan groans.

Hyunjin physically leaves the room.

You laugh, but there’s a twinge of sympathy under it.

Jisung shrugs, pulling on his hoodie like armor. “I’ll be fine. Eventually. After some ice cream. And maybe therapy. Or a three-minute kiss from literally anyone in this room.”

Chan throws a pillow at him.

To be continued

-E

[fragrantpines]

But what about… kissing more food men

Before you can even get close to Xifeng Wine, his hand grabs onto your shoulder with a surprising amount of force, forcing you to stand as still as a statue while his sharp eyes inspect you from head to toe.

In the blink of an eye, he spins you around so that your back faces him. His hand moves from the top of your shoulder to the back of your neck, exerting little force to his fingertips that press dangerously against the side of your neck.

“Are you trying to trick me again, general?”

His voice whispers lowly against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You weren't sure if the shivers were caused by his thumb pressing dangerously close to your pulse point, or the compromising position he had placed you in– move too far back and your back would be lying against his chest; move too far forward and he might take that as a sign that you were trying to run away and knock you unconscious just like the last time. The option left (the only safe option really) is to continue standing like a frozen statue until he no longer asserts you as a threat, when his eyes no longer see you as the General of the Qin and begins to recognise you as the young master of Kongsang.

However, just as you start getting used to this awkward position, his other hand pushes your face to the side, tilting your head upwards until your lips perfectly align with his, stealing away any words that had formed in your head along with your breath.

By the time he pulls away, both of your faces hold a similar shade of blush, his looking much more prominent as if he had just taken a sip of the strongest wine known to man while drinking you in.

He doesn't say a word before burying his head into the crook of your neck, arms wrapping loosely around your waist while muttering.

“Stay…. Don't leave me again….”

“You know, trying to distract your opponent during an ongoing game of chess is an illegal move.”

Chuyi Flower Cake lifts his head from the chessboard and smiles at you kindly, his expression unreadable with the blindfold tightly wrapped around his head.

Without looking back down, he moves a piece on the far left of the board and declares, “Checkmate.”

Instantly, your smile fades as your attention snaps back onto the chessboard, refusing to believe that he had already checkmated your king in such a short amount of time. However, as soon as your eyes took a quick scan over the board, you were forced to admit defeat with a heavy sigh, waving an invisible white flag over your head.

“I thought you said that you've never played Western chess before!”

“I haven't, but the strategies and pieces are similar to the chess I am familiar with.”

Frustrated, you slam your head against the table with a loud groan, refusing to believe that you have just lost your 10th game in a row.

“You could've at least looked a little surprised when I tried to distract you,” you mutter softly.

For a split second, a look of shock flashes across Chuyi's face, slowly being replaced by widening eyes and a blush as the realisation of what “distraction” you were referring to slowly dawns on him. Unconsciously, he lifts a hand up to cover the lower half of his face, hoping that his reddening face doesn't slip through the gaps of his fingers while his eyes dart away from your figure for a moment to regain his composure.

Eventually, he manages to pick up the courage to extend an arm over the table and slowly pat the top of your head, whispering softly. “Focus on improving your insight instead of relying on such unreliable tricks. Next time, if you wish to partake in an act of intimacy, any time outside of a chess game is suitable.”

Instantly, you shoot your head up with a smile. “Does that mean Mister Chuyi will kiss me if I kiss him to?!”

For a moment, Chuyi looks taken aback before he dissolves into laughter. In a heartbeat, he bends over the table and presses a small kiss on the top of your forehead, fondly gazing down at you from behind the blindfold.

“For you, always.”

[selfundiagnosed]

Every time i meet a gemini whose second face sits right next to their actual face i go ahead and slide my second face from the back of my head and stick it next to my own and show them how being a snake is really done 😂

[madamechrissy]

Fratboy! Sukuna

Pairings - Fratboy! Sukuna x Nerdy Brat! reader (my pairings are so extra LMAO)

Warnings - college AU, public play, fingering, oral ( f and m recieving) cum swallowing, rough sex, size kink, ass smacking, hair pulling, teasing, drinking, weed smoking, reader AND Kuna talking shit, Kuna whimpering, overall silly ass hcs with smut (this was a request for Kuna from Took you Like a Shot)

I should be working on my wips but instead have over 3k words of Sukuna smut <3 Now back to those lol!!

Fratboy! Sukuna was the king of this damn college, everyone knew him, whether it was as a friend, a hook up, crush or a rival. Running the frat with Suguru and Satoru, the three of them constantly had parties, and Sukuna was the best out of the three at beer pong by far. He's never lost a match in the three years of college, not once. So when he sees a nerdy little thing challenge him - a girl he's only seen with her head in a book passing by and maybe thought how pretty she was but - he scoffs, looking down at her. At you.

Fratboy! Sukuna has his crowd around him, so many girls fawn over him, one has his beer in her hand and gives him sip, one has his blunt lit, giving him hits. Another is holding his water bottle, all while he's in a ridiculous toga, that shows far too much of his toned, tatted physique. You try to ignore it as you adjust your own outfit, feeling ridiculous in it, but Sukuna couldn't stop thinking of how good that white dress looked on your skin, glinting under the lights. Dumb shit he shouldn't be thinking while high off his ass and lit, but it's there. 'What ya waiting for, brat, hmm? Scared I'll win?' He asks then across the table, with a big grin, and you glare up at him. 'No way, you'll see, it's all about math'

Fratboy! Sukuna bursts into laughter, and you itch to smack his arguably far too handsome face, while his girls all giggle around him. But Satoru comes over, murmuring in your ear then - 'he thinks you're hot, use it to your advantage' you gasp, looking at the white haired leader of the frat then. 'No way!?' He just smirks, and Sukuna scowls at you across the long beer pong table now. You sigh, there is so much Axe body spray and love spell, cigarette smoke and stale beer in the air, it's nice to inhale whatever fancy cologne Satoru wears for a moment. 'Distract him, pookie' you laugh softly, unbelieving when he runs back over to Sukuna, who bounces a ball right in your first cup.

Fratboy! Sukuna has said you're pretty many times but he didn't need Satoru to rat him out, he doesn't want to admit that he's shy around you. He's not shy around anyone, you're just an outlier, an annoyance really, leaning forward now and showing far too much of your pretty breasts in that dress, sinking a ball right into his cup then. Sukuna's cock starts throbbing from the look in your pretty eyes behind those glasses. 'Beginners luck, tch' he grumbles, you giggle a bit, sipping on your drink. 'Oh yeah? We'll see huh?' and you proceed to annihilate his ass at at, a girl taking down the 'big, bad Sukuna' like it's fucking nothing, making him angrier with every bounce.

Fratboy! Sukuna glares daggers at you across the crowded party, which many have gathered to watch the downfall of him, you have two of his cups left and he's only gotten one of yours, torn between wanting to fuck you right on this table and wanting to show you up for your little attitude. His red eyes glint then, he's so focused on how you look he's fucking up every throw, and now his friends are all making fun of him while you have the audacity to giggle. When you sink the last ball in, two boys from the frat lift you up on their shoulders, and you giggle, arms up in the air while he pouts, crossing his arms and looking away. 'She beat your ass bro-' Sukuna shoots a death glare at Suguru now, who's too high to care, laughing so hard he's almost snorting a long with Satoru. 'Oh fuck both of you. I'm just... off tonight or something'

Fratboy! Sukuna watches as you beat everyone at fucking beer pong, it's actually stupid how good you are. He ends up standing next to you, smoking on his blunt as he watches your technique, so close he can inhale whatever sweet scent you wear, filling his nostrils then and making his mouth itch to taste you. Do you taste as good as you smell? You look back then, lips parted as he's sniffing your neck without noticing what he's doing. 'Are you sniffing me, Sukuna?' he glares now, standing up and shaking his head. 'Tch, you wish, I just... y'know, I wanna make a bet with you' he can't admit that he absolutely was just sniffing you, no way. Your eyes light up the challenge. 'Oh, what bet?' you ask, tilting your head now, when he leans low, a hand brushing across your waist over thin cheap costume fabric, it's nothing to prevent his big hand from burning your skin.

Fratboy! Sukuna feels you trembling as he stands behind you now, his hard body against your back, and you try to focus, but he's fucking up your senses far more than any sips of beer you've had. 'I bet you can't stay quiet with my fingers in you. Ah, you nervous now, brat?' his whisper against your ear makes your cunt clench and throb with need, you look back at him with wide eyes, while he smirks at you, raising a thick brow, while his full lips are far too close. 'Oh yeah, what do I win if I can?' your ask shocks him, he assumed you'd be more... shy, but your challenge is all over your face, and you feel his hardness pressing against your back now, he wonders if you feel the precum leaking at the thought of touching you, pressing harder, your hands gripping the flimsy pong table. 'If you win, I'll drink that pussy up and have you cum all over my face,' you jerk when he touches you secretly, as if he's just hugging on you, but he's teasing your clit already, whispering - 'and if you win?'

Fratboy! Sukuna chuckles, pink locks falling just so over his arrogant brow, big ass grin with his straight white teeth glinting as he looks down at you. 'If I win, well...' he's whispering in your ear, making you tremble now, while you land another winning shot, and his typical girls look over jealously at the two of you, but he completely ignores them. 'You'll suck me till I cum, and you'll have to grind on my leg all fucking pathetic' you glare now at him, teeth clenching while he slips a finger under the slit of your gown, hidden firmly by your dress and the table. 'You're so arrogant, you wish I would. I'd make you whimper like a little bitch' Sukuna scowls deep now, at your fucking arrogance, but also... how dare you have done that to anyone but him!? The thought pisses him off irrationally. Makes him want to make sure your cunt remembers his shape and no one else's. 'Think you're so good at it, brat? Tch, we'll see.' You smile now, too pretty for him to focus, shaking your head. 'No, we'll see if you're any good at eating pussy'

Fratboy! Sukuna has clearly had you pegged all wrong, thinking you're some cute innocent thing when you have a mouth like that, wracking him with images of you on your knees, lips wrapped around his tip, when he finds you under your panties. He hardly holds back his moan, feeling your slick cunt pouring against his fingers. 'If you make noise, don't you lose?' you whisper, he smirks at you then, finding your clit and watching your eyes flutter shut, feeling her twitch under his fingertips. 'Focus on that game huh? before you lose' you clench your teeth again, hips shifting as wetness pours out, Sukuna casually sips his beer as if he's not rolling perfect patterns on your little twitchy clit, and you throw another ball as if you're not dying to grind against that hard cock pressing insistently.

Fratboy! Sukuna has met his match at beer pong, but he hears your soft whimper when he teases a kiss on your bare shoulder, running his fingers up and down your slit, and that sharp intake of breath as he feels your tight cunt gripping as he slides a thick digit in. 'You doin' okay, brat? so fuckin wet from some touches?' you glare again but it's interrupted by the squelching sound of your wetness in both of your ears and your gasp, which you bite back before shaking your head. 'I'm good' is all you manage, hearing his chuckle, when he inserts another finger, stretching you out. You thank God for loud ass music and laughter, or you swear your cunt was so loud people would hear. 'greedy cunt, she wants more, huh?' you say nothing, focusing on the cups, missing your ball then, frustrated and overheated, Sukuna watches the blush dance on your cheeks as his fingers curl up in your soppy little hole. 'Aw, poor baby is fucking up her shots'

Fratboy! Sukuna would love to lose to you, to bury his face in the soaking cunt drooling down his fingers, but part of him also wants to win because he always does, and fucking that bratty mouth just makes his cock twitch against his toga. He's lost in how tight you are, your little wiggles and gasps as he holds you against him, fingers hitting that spongy spot while he leans over, an arm braced on the table, the asshole actually holds conversations, grinning while you're about to cum. You try to hold back, cunt pulsing now, vision blurred by how good they feel, thighs trembling as slick pours down your inner thighs now, making it slippery and messy, gulping down a bottle of water and almost choking while he thumbs your clit at the same time, leaning close. 'How ya doing, beer pong champion?' his mocking tone should infuriate you, but all you wanna do is cum, and it's like he knows, but you swallow it down, smiling. 'I'm great!'

Fratboy! Sukuna god his jaw just drops when you win that tournament, not making barely a noise despite how wet you are, how jerky your hips are moving, you swallow that water and smile victoriously when he sighs, removing his fingers, leaving your cunt aching. 'Fuck, guess I might as well see what I'm in for' he murmurs, dejected at losing, he never loses, and he pulled out all the stops on that cunt. He takes his fingers then, sucking you off him casually, cheeks hollowing, making your tummy flip as he does, when his eyes flutter shut and he moans as he tastes you, it all feels too real then. All the shit talking didn't prepare you for how sexy he would look, what that action would do to your body and mind. His red eyes are so dilated they look fucking black when he grips your wrist now, leaning low - 'you won, brat, let's go, now'

Fratboy! Sukuna drags you behind him unceremoniously to his room then, and instead of kissing you or letting you touch him, he immediately locks the door, getting on his knees in front of you, a hot open mouthed kiss on your thigh as it trembles. 'Sukuna, just because you won doesn't mean you have to... I can- ah!' he's already eyeing your soaking wet cunt, so drenched your panties are sticking to you, the outline apparent, his breath on your inner thigh making matter worse. 'A bet is a bet, but I'd be eating you even if you won' he curses under his breath at the vulnerable statement, but you ease against his door then, relaxing, and brushing silky pink locks back. 'You would?' he just scoffs now, attitude back, glaring as he slips your panties off, you eye a collection of them then on his dresser and glare. 'You're not keeping them!' he chuckles now, nipping your inner thigh. 'will you just shut up and...' he laps at your cunt now, earning you banging your head against the door as you hiss, hips bucking. 'Can't even take one lick, huh?'

Fratboy! Sukuna talks a lot of shit to cover up the fact that you have the prettiest pussy he's seen, in fact he doesn't think anything will compare to it now, the taste sweet like your scent - no, sweeter - if he was a little bitch maybe he'd write some dumb poem about that flavor, but instead all you get is a husky - fuck - while he devours your soppy little cunt now, teasing and flicking your clit until he latches his mouth. 'mnh! oh my God, I... ngh!' you're reduced to nothing while he worships you on his knees, dressed like some goddess and he's sipping the finest nectar, red eyes darting up while you tug at his locks, hurting his scalp and making him harder while you do. 'Sukuna, m'close! fuck...' him edging you early didn't help matters, he just grins against you, wicked tongue flicking just so, teeth nipping your clit until you shatter for him, orgasm rocking your body until you can't see, gushing arousal down this man's face, and he drinks it all up too.

Fratboy! Sukuna almost cums licking you, finally pulling back and standing, hovering so tall over you, you almost fall so he wraps and arm around your waist. 'No talking shit, huh? where's all that attitude, brat?' you just yank him down by the golden leaf on his toga, whispering - 'shut up, Sukuna' and kiss him, tasting your arousal on his lips, before shoving him on his bed now, earning a shocked look on the huge man's face. Sukuna lifts and lifts heavy, and you're literally tiny and nothing in comparison - he plays football, he's an athlete, but he's weak kneed from you, helpless and irritated about it. You straddle him, your glasses fogging up from your kisses, and he grips your hips, hands shaking as he slips up your dress, and you reveal him, flushing. 'No boxers, you're so slutty, Sukuna' your words end him, he whimpers when you touch his tip with your finger, already leaking precum, you lap it off your thumb- and that's when he really knows he had you wrong. You're a little fucking freak, smiling down at him, cunt leaking down against his thick muscled thighs. 'You're yummy too - ah!'

Fratboy! Sukuna scowls at your audacity, lifting you up by your hips, as you view all of his huge, veiny cock, so big you know you can't take it, no guy is even close that you've been with, but you sure will fucking try. You figure he'll ease you on it, as he holds you up in the damn air and you flail, before he slides you all the way down his length in one stroke and you scream out. He groans as he feels it, smirking up at you under sooty pink lashes, watching your eyes roll back, your hips wiggle in his firm hold. 'Can't take it, brat?' he taunts, lifting and dragging you down that veiny length again, and you try to scowl back, but fail, moaning. 'I can, I can fuck give me a minute... monster cock what the f-fuck...' he's chuckling with delight, but you're clenching again, just making him moan himself, as he starts fucking up into your cunt, and it burns- the fucking stretch so intense you feel like he's splitting you in half, but you want it, fuck you want it - him slamming that cervix over and over.

Fratboy! Sukuna almost busts quick, stopping then, flipping you over until you're on your hands and knees, wrapping your hair around his first and sliding his cock back in, watching how small your cunt is compared to it. 'Making it disappear, such a good little slut for me, aren't you?' he's talking shit you'd never deal with but you like it from him, damn him. He's splitting you apart with every thrust, watching the creamy ring form at the base while both of your costumes barely hang on, he's scrunching it up your hips, smacking the fuck out of you as he pulls your hair so hard, and you just whine out - 'more, fuck, please more' and Sukuna gives it to you. He fucks you until you're drooling, heavy balls smacking that clit and making you cum, milking him already as your gummy walls grip and spasm, he smacks you again, watching his hand print form and groaning. 'you're so sweet like this, this what you wanted?'

Fratboy! Sukuna expects you to argue but you're too far gone, fucked from one orgasm into another, the smacks of skin loud in his room, while you grip his sheets and he presses your head down, fucking harder and harder, so hard you don't know if you can take it, you have to take off your glasses and shove them aside, burying your face against his bed. His cock fills you so good it's unbearable, all you can do is cry out into his bed while he's whispering utter filth - 'made f'me, isn't she?' you just nod weakly at it. 'Perfect cunt, aw you can't talk now, brat huh?' you just whine out, there was clearly a way to make you less competitive and that was getting railed in a frat house by Sukuna.

Fratboy! Sukuna barely pulls out in time, crying out and whining again as he cums, jerking his cock while you catch your breath, you struggle to get up, cunt fucking aching, turning to watch him. With his clean hand he hands you your glasses, as you slip them on and watch cum still oozing out of the hole of his reddened tip, so much cum. Your thighs quiver as you eye him now, as the two of you just sit there in the quiet for a moment, then you shock him, shoving him on his back again, breasts spilling and making him twitch with more need. 'Let me clean you up, Sukuna, it's the least I can do. Made you make all that noise, didn't I?' He glares at you, but once you're sucking all that cum off him with an expert tongue, and sliding him deep down your throat, until he's licked clean, he's gotta admit - you really were better at everything than him.

I love this man lol

perm tagsss- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @shokosbunny

[deliwrites]

𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕆𝕦𝕣𝕤 // Saja Boys & Huntr/x

// DATE // 30th of June 2025 → 1st of July 2025 // PAIRING // Huntr/x x Fem!Reader x Saja Boys // WARNING // !!!Mention of a su*c*de attempt through song lyrics!!!, Morally gray actions, involuntary chocking, harassment, more award show shit that I struggle to write xD // WORDS // 3.3k+ // SUMMARY // At a music awards show, Y/n unexpectedly wins a coveted prize, thrusting her into the spotlight with a powerful, raw performance that captivates everyone — but behind the scenes, tensions simmer as old wounds and unseen dangers threaten to unravel her hard-won success.

// Previous // Part Two // Next //

“There are only a few awards left to be given to some truly incredible artists!” Minjun says almost like he’s sad it’s nearly over.

“Oh absolutely,” Seyeon nods enthusiastically. “You know what I look most forward to?”

“What’s that, Seyeon?”

“The performance the next winner will be giving us!”

“Oh my, you’re right!” Minjun gasps in playful realization. “And it’s for none other than the ‘Heartfelt Voice Award’! I hope you guys are ready to cry. Because I sure am!”

“Wait…” panic settles into my chest. “Can- can you guys-“ I can't finish as breathing becomes to difficult. Even if it wasn’t certain yet, I couldn’t stop the panic at having to perform so unexpectedly.

“What’s wrong?” Romance asks, noticing the fast rising and falling of my chest.

“-Undo it.”

“Undo what?” Miras voice is laced with worry.

“I- I,” I stammer, my eyes not leaving the hosts as an envelope is brought to them. Watching the envelope like I can see through it and read the name on it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Rumi pulls me into her chest, grounding me. “Take a deep breath,” she takes one waiting for me to take one with her. Then gently lets it out, I do the same but mine is shaky. “Try again.”

“I can’t perform,” I whisper, voice trembling, shaking my head finally turning to look at her. “I can’t do this.”

“Sure you can!” Jinu says with a confident grin on his face. I just shake my head.

“Y/N!!” The shout of my name startles me. I freeze, eyes returning to the stage. My picture presented on the big screen. The hosts look somewhat puzzled. As do I.

There is polite clapping as Rumi gently nudges me to get up. I leave my small clutch with them, looking back at them as I hesitantly start walking. “You’ve got this!” Zoey says giving me two thumbs up, beaming.

“She wasn’t supposed to win,” it’s a grumble that she doesn’t hear while she slowly makes her way to the stage. But the others do. Eight pairs of eyes turn toward the voice. Jaewon. Staring daggers at the back of his head. None of them say anything… but the message is clear. Standing up, clapping louder than anyone else in the room. A push. A warning. And she needs it. Every last bit of it.

My legs feel like they might give out with every step I take, my heart still bounding in my chest. Once I reach the stage and am given the award I awkwardly stand in front of the mic. “Thank you, I-“ my words falter, my eyes meeting a glaring Jaewon. But then excited movement from above him brings a smile to my face. A wave, encouraging smiles and a nod that says ‘you can do this’ from Jinu. “I didn’t expect to win tonight,” I say honestly. “But it is truly an honor, thank you so much to those who listen to my songs, support me and especially voted tonight,” looking at the award as the words settle within me. “Really… thank you,” Stepping back from the mic I’m met with more applause a bit more sincere this time.

“Let me take that real quick,” Seyeon says gently, taking the award from my hands. “Good luck!” With that she and Minjun disappear at the side of the stage. The lights dim just enough to shift the mood, and then my song starts playing. Closing my eyes, I take one last breath and sing.

Finally hit the ground I'm at the bottom now Never thought I could be this low Felt like falling down an endless hole No, I don't see the light And I don't hear God Crawling in the dark Now my limbs are cold Screaming out "Help" but it just echoes

A silence falls over the room. Everyone listening with bated breath. All consumed by the unexpected depth of my voice. By the ache woven into every note, the weight of words no one dares to speak out loud.

Only one way out of here I don't think I can reach it Everything I hold dear Erased by all of my demons My sorry is sincere I've just lost all of my reasons Reasons left to stay

When I open my eyes, I’m stunned to find I’ve become the center of attention. No one is talking, everyone is quite literally staring. Wide eyed, stunned faces, confused but pleasantly surprised. As if they expected a whisper but got a storm.

So, if this is goodbye Please, don't count my cry as a sin No, I don't wanna die But it keeps getting harder to live And I put up a fight But now I've got nothing to give So, if this is goodbye, goodbye, goodbye I hope someday to see you again

The song is emotional and raw. It captures everyone in the room even the ones who didn’t know her before this very moment. She had already captured their attention when she walked in. Clumsy, quiet, walking with uncertainty. But hearing her sing this song live, it hit different.

It’s like a string got pulled tight between them and her. A need to protect. To have. To understand. And something more dangerous; an obsession.

There's nothing you could've said Nothing you could've done different It was always between me and my head Never meant to hurt you in the process But I just can't keep holding on Wish I could believe that things will get better Wish I could just flip a switch in my mind Then I could fix how I feel altogether Then I could mean it when I say I'm fine It's never that easy and neither is life Don't think I wanted to leave you behind I tried, I tried, I tried

This song, it wasn’t for Jaewon. That much was obvious. But who was it to?

The answer.

Herself.

So, if this is goodbye Please, don't count my cry as a sin No, I don't wanna die But it keeps getting harder to live And I put up a fight But now I've got nothing to give Nothing, nothing So, if this is goodbye, goodbye, goodbye I hope someday to see you again If this is goodbye I'll see you If this is goodbye Open up my eyes I don't know where I am And everything is blurry My mom's holding my hand Turns out I was in a hurry But God had other plans He said my goodbye was early Now I've got a second chance

I stood in pure silence for a moment. Everyone shocked at the emotional impact this song had on them. In the end a couple of tears were shed.

“That… was…” Seyeon enters the stage once more. Tissue in hand. Letting out a sigh as she shakes her head struggling to find the right word. “… beautiful,” is what she settles for. That seems to put the room back in motion as applause suddenly, loudly rings around the room.

Startled, tears gather in my eyes. “Thank you,” I smile through tears.

“This award,” Minjun starts as he too returns. Holding up my award. “Is extremely well deserved,” I thank them once more before exiting the stage. Climbing my way back up the stairs. I’m stared at, even get a bow here and there as I pass them. I bow back like I don’t deserve their respect.

When I get back to my seat Zoey and Rumi are crying while Mira is obviously holding back her tears.

“That was so… ethereal,” Zoey sniffles. Standing up to pull me in a hug. “You deserved this award! Even if you didn’t think so.”

Taking her phone from her clutch while she talked to the girls was almost too easy. Even when she sat back down she hadn’t noticed how Baby easily manipulated the device to unlock with his demon powers. First he found her phone number, saving it in his own phone.

The causality of how he handled it and the guys keeping her distracted made it go unnoticed for much longer. The guys had quickly noticed what their maknae was up to. Making sure he would get it done. Easily installing spying software, hiding it from her, but making sure it worked from his own device. It wasn’t about invading her privacy. It was about keeping her safe.

By the time she reached for her clutch again, it was back in it place, exactly where she thought she’d left it. Missing the pointed look Mira gave the maknae as if to tell him he better share what he finds.

“Wow,” I sigh, grabbing my clutch, using it as a fan. “Thank you,” glancing both ways trying to meet their eyes. As I thank them for their - undeserved - support. “I would not have been able to do that if it wasn’t for you,” a blush tinting my cheeks but I blame it on the heat in here. In reality there is air conditioning in the room making sure everyone was comfortable.

“Of course,” Abby smirks, but I know he’s genuine.

“It’s nothing, you needed a push,” Mira shrugs casually. “You deserved it.”

“Thank you, anyway,” I make sure they know I’m being sincere. “But I really need the bathroom now,” I chuckle awkwardly receiving understanding chuckles back. Getting up I follow the signs to the bathroom.

Inside the bathroom, I take a moment to freshen up a bit, I look at myself in the mirror. A genuine smile still playing on my lips. “I did it,” I mutter, barely believing my own words. “I actually won.”

Taking my phone from my clutch, my notification wall is full. There are new followers on every social media platform I have. Mentions of my performance. Clips, screenshots, reactions. And of course all the posts the Saja Boys and Huntr/x created to support me and my song.

Mentions of my other songs too. People finding them, loving them. It makes me feel warm. Loved. Seen.

I exit the bathroom relax, distracted even. A bit too distracted apparently when I get the air literally knocked out of me. Pushed into the wall right at the archway to the venue hall.

“Wha-”

“Shut up!” I recognize the voice immediately. Anxiety lighting a fire in my being. Eyes wide, they find his. His face is contorted in anger. “You weren’t supposed to win,” his hand balls into a fist, rising, but he knows he’s still in public. Lowering the fist he grips my upper arm instead. Tight enough to create bruising, making me squirm and whine.

“Let go of me,” my voice is small. The fear in my eyes only making him chuckle.

“No, this is how you should have looked,” he continues, voices nearly growling the words at me. “I orchestrated this. Made sure you were nominated for a song no one even knew. Made it so you had to sit with those you looked up to,” tears form in my eyes. I knew it... I knew I shouldn’t have been here. His other hand lands on my shoulder, thumb laying at the base of my neck. Pressing hard, making it uncomfortable to talk or swallow.

It seems my arms decide that they now have the strength to try and push him away. But it doesn’t work. He’s stronger than me.

“You should have ran out of here, crying! Like the weakling you are,” his voice stays the same, unfazed by my trembling attempts to push him away from me. “How did you win?” there is real anger laced with genuine curiosity. Thumb pressing harder onto my throat.

“Because she deserves it,” the voice stuns both me and Jaewon. It’s Mystery. Before I can react, Jaewon quickly pulls me to his chest. I cough with the pressure now gone from my throat. He acts like he didn’t just have a bruising grip on me. Like all he wanted to do was hug me as a way to congratulate me on the win. Even if it was all a lie to protect his image.

The way Mystery was positioned had given Jaewon the false idea that no one had caught his cruel actions towards her. But Mystery knew. They all knew, even Huntr/x who were currently performing unable to protect what was theirs. Even if she didn’t know it yet.

“Oh, I wasn’t accusing,” Jaewon continues, feigning sincerity, but the sharp tone in his voice betrays him. “Congratulations on your win, Y/n,” the way he says my name. It's sharp and I know it’s a warning. Mystery takes my hand, pulling me closer to him so I’m not in Jaewon’s reach.

“Thanks,” it’s forced and breathless as it leaves my lips. I let Mystery lead me back to our seats. Trying to fake my confidence like nothing happened.

They all know something happened, but don’t point it out. From the way she walks and sits down stiffly. Trying to portray that genuine happiness she showed earlier. Only it doesn’t reach her eyes. They know now is not the time to talk about what they all witnessed. Instead, they watch quietly, guarding her in their own way.

The rest of the award show luckily goes by swimmingly. I hate to have to say goodbye to the eight who already meant a lot to me. Now more than I ever thought possible.

But I knew this was probably the first and only time I would get to talk to them. At least for a good while. The girls gave me a hug, squeezing me tightly. Letting me know once more that I deserved the win. I’m not sure how to say goodbye to the guys. Jinu just tsk’s, and pulls me in for a hug as well.

Even if he makes it seem nonchalant he can’t stop himself from breathing in her hair as she hugs him back.

Mystery makes sure to squeeze tightly, like a reminder that he’s there for her.

Baby playfully rolls his eyes at her, poking her sides to make her jump before giving his own hug. Gently petting the top of her head.

Abby smirks, teasing her. Saying that she only wants a hug so she can feel his abs. She chuckles genuinely, making all their hearts melt.

Last is Romance who will gladly take a hug, lingering for longer than needed. Placing a peck on her soft cheek, causing a soft flush to her face.

Missing the way the girls glare at the boys with envy.

My manager had been surprisingly quiet the next day. Normally he would start calling me the moment the sun woke.

Now it’s Monday, two days after the K-pop Rising Stars Awards. Still, it’s radio silence from my manager. I had messaged him myself to ask if he saw my win. He hadn’t even read it. Nothing.

With Luminara Entertainment right around the corner from the dorms, I headed there early. I needed answers. Arriving around 8 am, I waved at Juna at the reception desk. She smiled gently but there was something almost rehearsed in it. Shrugging off the feeling I head for the elevator making my way to Kyungsoo’s office.

Outside the office door I heard voices. So I at least knew he was in. Knocking softly on the wooden door, I wait. The conversation grew silent immediately. When Kyungsoo finally cracked the door open, his eyes barely met mine.

“Hey, I messaged, but I didn’t hear from you,” I tell him, confusion clear on my face. Partially because he’s just peeking out of a small slit in the door but mostly because I hadn’t heard from him.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” I can tell immediately that it’s not sincere. Voice flat, lacking his usually somewhat warmth. “I’ve just been really busy. Just continue working on your songs in the studio. I’ll check in with you soon,” before I could respond the door closed again.

Busy or not, it was clear I wasn’t a priority. He didn’t even congratulate me. Tension rose in my shoulders like something was up but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

His phone dings with a new familiar chime. Y/n opened her phone. Picking up his own from where it rested on the coffee table.

They had been given an off day after holding a concert on Sunday the day after the Award show. The five of them relaxing a bit. Though that wasn’t the only thing going on.

Mystery had done a full deep dive on Jaewon, turns out the only reason NIOR7 was doing as well as they were. Was because of daddy’s money.

Jinu, who sat next to Baby, recognized the sound too. All of them knew what it meant, having observed her activity since she left the venue. Including making sure she actually got home safe. Not leaving the outside of Luminara dorms until they saw her face in one of the windows.

A new message came in.

Jaewon Enjoying your win

She didn’t start typing, but didn’t move away from it either. Why had she not blocked him yet? As if she heard their thoughts, she excited the chat. Going to her blocked numbers. A list of at least seventeen blocked contacts showed up. All named Jaewon.

It didn’t matter whether she blocked him. He would just get a new number and keep tormenting her.

Jaewon Not for long, I'm sure

What does that even mean? What is he up to?

Abby who stood behind the couch looking at the screen with them. “I’ll call the girls.”

When they had gotten back to Honmoon Tower after making sure Y/n had gotten back safely. The girls insisted on making a pact. Not believing they would actually share everything with them if they didn’t make a pact. They vowed to keep each other updated on everything happening with Y/n. No secrets.

The pact sealed with a tattoo of a tiny flame appearing on their ribs as a reminder, and as punishment. If they were to forget to share something, important or not. The tattoo would slowly start burning, growing stronger the longer it takes. Only stopping when the information is shared.

All they heard was Abby saying ‘It’s about Y/n’ and they appeared in their living room. Worry clear on their faces. Dressed in gym clothes, a sheen of sweat covering their skin. Still a little breathless.

“What is it?” Zoey ask, finding a seat next to Baby as Abby hangs up the phone. Rolling his eyes at their appearance playfully.

“Jaewon, he just wont stop tormenting her,” Jinu explains. “I think it’s a threat but I can’t be sure,” taking Baby’s phone from him to show Jaewon’s last message to her.

“It has to be,” Mira confirms, obvious anger at the man harassing their girl. “What else can you do with this?” she asks, talking about the mirror image of Y/n’s phone.

“A lot,” Baby smirks. “When she’s asleep I can activate her phone and look through it.”

“And if she is using it? Can you listen to what she’s saying?”

“I could yeah,” Baby nods, going to the settings and activating the mic on her phone and the speaker on his own. Her voice immediately filling the space.

“What are you talking about?” I chuckle at the absurdity of my current situation. “You’re dropping me?”

“Yes, I am,” Kyungsoo says. There is uncertainty in his voice, his posture stiff. “Effective immediately.”

“What? But my contract-”

“It’s doesn’t matter,” he cuts me off. “Because of a morality clause. The label believes it’s best to part ways with the recent… controversies surrounding you.”

“Controversies? What controversies?” he avoids my gaze as I dig for more answers.

“That’s not for me to say,” he shrugs awkwardly casual. “You have 24 hours to get out of the dorms.”

“Twenty-fo- What? That’s not enough time! Where am I meant to go!?”

“You’ll figure it out,” with that he walks out, slamming the door to the studio.

“What?” my voice a quiet whisper as I sink back down onto the couch. “What am I gonna do?” I ask myself, my voice shaky.

Bzzz…. Bzzzz

Glancing at my phone which still sat on the coffee table where I left it when Kyungsoo came in.

Unknown Hey, how is your day? It’s Romance by the way.

// Previous // Part Two // Next //

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[todomochi-uwu]

Is there any way I could repay you?

Pairing(s): Luffy x reader; Zoro x reader; Sanji x reader; Ace x reader; Law x reader Genre: Smut Warnings: This content is for a mature audience Synopsis: Is there any way you could repay them? Author's notes: I love @inseobts layout for their fics so I decided to use something similar. I've never worked with this style, I hope you guys enjoy it. I'm also right around the corner of Marineford and I feel like dying since Ace is my favourite character. So, indulge me. Masterlist If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee

Luffy 

Your fridge broke down a couple of hours ago. 

You had tried everything and anything to make it work, but the piece of shit wouldn’t budge (it’s also old af). 

On your way to ask anyone if they knew someone who could repair it, you stumbled into the gum boy. 

"Oh, hello, neighbour!"  

"Oh shit, that sucks, but don't worry, I can fix it. How hard can it be?" 

He wouldn’t fix shit, but he would try (or in a stroke of luck he just might). 

Let’s say, by some miracle, he does. 

You’d spent hours watching him work. He had taken his jacket off, a white tank top underneath. 

Getting a little sweaty, tongue poking out in concentration. 

You had ogled for a good hour to two, and no, he hadn’t even noticed. 

He would groan in frustration when he couldn’t manage to get it to work. 

“Stupid, fucking thing.” 

You delivered small treats for his trouble: a lemonade, a sandwich, and a bowl of ramen he was craving. 

“Fucking finally!” 

“Thank you so much, Luffy! Is there any way I can repay you? 

Yeah, remember when I said he hadn’t noticed you ogling? Well, he did. 

And that’s how you found yourself bent over the kitchen floor, being pounded to the nines, crying out like bitch in heat with a pizza slice resting in your back. 

“Fuck, Luffy! Don’t stop, don’t stop." Spit dribbled down your mouth, and your fingers gripped the floor, desperately to hold onto anything that would ground you. 

Behind you was Luffy, who panted in between taking bites out of his pizza, “You are so tight.” The grip of his hands on your love handles would surely leave a nasty bruise, but that was the least of your worries. 

Zoro 

You had just come back from work, the only thing you wanted was to take a shower. 

Of course, the fucking thing wasn’t working. 

You had tried everything, from hitting it with a hammer to twisting the handles to yelling at it. 

No idea how to fucking fix it. 

You texted the landlord, but he said he won't be able to fix it until tomorrow. 

And you need a shower NOW. 

Just when you were to knock on your chef neighbour's door, he appeared.  

Sweaty, towel around his neck, and sporting a really tight compression chest. Zoro popped one ear out of his headphones, “Curly brow's not home.” 

“Shit, my shower is not working, and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“That’s happened to me before. Let me check it out." 

Now you have another issue: the wet patch that formed in your panties after you watched the handyman check out your shower.  

His strong back muscles faced you, flexing and moving while inspecting the problem. 

He would cuss under his breath and groan every time his methods wouldn’t work. 

This angle also gave you a great view of his ass. He had clearly worked for it. 

Your head fantasized about what would happen if you were to bend to your knees in front of him, pull his pants down and take his cock in between... 

“Shit!” He had fixed it. Water splashed onto your floor, but not before soaking him. If you thought that shirt was already see-through enough... 

“Oh god, let me get you a towel.” Or maybe you could dry up the water with your tongue. Everyone wins, right? 

“Thank you so much, Zoro! Is there any way I could repay you?” 

And that’s how you found yourself just the way you imagined. Choking on his cock, tears running down your face, and gags escaping your throat. 

“Yeah, keep sucking that dick”, His hips thrust against your mouth, pushing his member further down, making you gag. Your nails biting the skin of his thighs, trying to balance yourself, but never wanting him to stop. You looked up at him, that lazy smirk and the way his tongue licked his lips made you dizzy. 

You sucked your cheeks in, running your tongue against the thick vein that ran down his member. His grip on your hair let you know you were doing something right, "I’m going to ruin you for anyone else, baby.” 

Sanji 

It was your grandma's birthday tomorrow, so you decided to bake her a cake. 

Shit, the fucking oven isn’t turning on. 

You have the batter ready to bake it will spoil if you don’t do something about it, right? 

Oh, how convenient, your neighbour is a chef. 

(Never mind he is blow-minding hot. What? Who said that?) 

"Hey, neighbour. I’m so sorry to bother you, but would you mind if I borrow your oven?" 

He would never no to a sweet little thing like you, but pushing your tits out as you showed him the ramekin didn’t harm anyone. 

Would do all the work for you, even going as far as fixing your recipe. 

You watch his hands the entire time. 

He had folded his sleeves so you could see the veins that covered his arms. 

“Open up, I want to see if it’s sweet enough.” 

He pushed the frosting-covered spoon against your lips. 

And, gladly, you took it. Looking into his eyes while covering your tongue with the thick substance. 

He gulped. 

Amazing what watching a man decorate a cake can do for your libido 

"There, it is all done for your grandma's birthday." The result was far better than anything you could have ever done.  

“Thank you so much, Sanji! Is there any way I could repay you?” 

And that’s how you found yourself laying tits up, nipples covered in the leftover frosting and the chef’s head in between your legs. 

"Oh, my god, Sanji." He’s got you cross-eyed while his tongue laps against your sweet cunt. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking it and licking it while his fingers piston in and out of your entrance. 

He lets out moans and whimpers, you’ve got him pussy drunk, and the only thing on his mind is making you cum again and again on his tongue, “You taste so sweet, mon cœur.” 

Ace 

Your heater had broken down in the middle of the fucking winter. 

No matter how many sweaters and jackets you wore, you still couldn't feel your fingers. 

You had messaged your landlord hours ago, but oh, surprise, surprise, he never answered. 

You were walking down to the elevator, about to go out and get some hot chocolate, when he saw you. 

“Hey, neighbour!” It was minus two fucking degrees outside, but this man was in a tank top and shorts (to be fair, it would be a crime to hide those arms) 

“Oh my god, are you okay? Your lips are blue!” “Your heater broke? Maybe I can help!” The optimism and overconfidence run in his family, if you can’t tell. 

He took a look at the thing, and Lord knows how, but he melted it. 

“Uh, umm, uh...” Indeed. 

He spent the next couple of hours trying to fix what he had done on top of the main issue. 

He would bite and lick his lips, eyebrows furrowed, focused. 

His frustrated groans belonged in a porno. 

“Fuck.” He would whisper occasionally. 

Like his little brother, Ace would also appreciate the food you’d offer. 

“This pie is so good! Did you really bake this?” He licked his thumb, savouring the rest of the sweet filling. 

What that mouth do. 

You don’t know how or what the fuck he did, but he did fix it. 

“There! You stupid shit!” 

“Thank you so much, Ace! Is there any way I could repay you?” 

And that’s how you found yourself backwards riding his cock on your couch. The cold had abandoned your body, and now you felt like you were burning with his hard chest against your back and his fingers toying with your aching clit. 

“Ace!” You moaned his name; it was the only thing that your mouth managed to say. Your brain had turned to mush the second he stuck his dick inside you. His hands pushed your hips up and down; his hips pounded you into oblivion, his dick reaching places your fingers (or frankly, any other dick) never could. 

“You like that, baby girl?” He said against your ear, his teeth pulling on your earlobe. He laughed, amused by your cock-drunkenness. He slapped your clit, making you jump and gasp, throwing you over the edge, “You don’t need no heater, baby. I am the heat now.”  

Law   

You were stupid, and you cut yourself while making a fruit bowl. yeah.  

While it wasn’t a deep wound, it did sting, and blood kept coming out.  

Trying to be very careful, to not hurt yourself any further or stain even more things.  

You bump into him. 

First, he looks at you, annoyed and then notices the blood on your hand.  

“Tch, that looks bad.” Yeah, you think?  

He grabs your hand, carefully, inspecting the cut.  

His eyebrows furrowed, twisting your wrist, his skin is a bit rough, and the tattoos in his hands make you want to ask him if he was willing to choke you. 

(You had seen this man once or twice in your life, barely knew his name, and already you are thinking about sticking his fingers in your mouth, get yourself together.) 

“It’s not that deep, but you might wanna clean it. Come.” Gladly.  

And just like that, you were inside this man’s apartment.  

Score? 

His place smells like a clinic, it’s almost funny the fact he has a penguin and polar bear plush on the couch.  

He pulls out his medical kit and begins cleaning the wound. The sudden sting makes you flinch.  

“Don’t move.” He commands, and you obey. No idea who this man is, but if he were to ask you to bend over, you probably would. Yeah, common sense leaves the room when it comes to dick. His dick.  

“There. Next time, try to pay attention to what you are doing.” Rude... you were listening to a true crime podcast, and it was just getting good.  

“Thank you so much, Law! Is there any way I could repay you?”  

And that’s how you found yourself, face pressed against the surface of his desk and fingers pumping in and out of your cunt. Your juices are dripping down and wetting every document and book, but he doesn’t seem to mind.  

“Law, please, please.” You don’t even know what you are begging for; he’s giving you everything you want, and more. His fingertips brush against the walls inside you, his thumb rubs and plays with your clit, while his other hand spanks you and pushes your head harder against the wood.  

He pulls his fingers out for a second, right when he feels you are clenching harder against them, “Quiet now. Don’t want the neighbours knowing how much of a slut the girl next door is.” He spanks your right cheek. Yeah, he isn't letting you cum, at least not right now.   

[paulyenvol6]

Try it, Bite it

I HAD to write some smutty one shot after seeing Pedro's interview on Jimmy Kimmel which resulted in this fanfiction. Enjoy :)

Contains: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, riding, arm/hand kink?, fingering (f receiving), a little bit of oral (f receiving), choking, fluff, lots of praise and sweetness, a little bit of angst in the beginning, established relationship, Pedro being a literal dream

Wordcount: 5,198

Masterlist

You felt your breath fastening up and simulatenously wanted to roll your eyes.

How was it possible that you weren't able to control yourself for once? You were supposed to support Pedro and here you were practically drooling at the sight of him your brain being a total mush.

It had already started before he even had walked out to sit on the couch when you had wished him good luck backstage. He wore this goddamn black t-shirt that showed off his trained arms too well and was the cause of this whole mess.

You had only run your eyes over him once, pupils dilating at his toned biceps and were just glad that Pedro hadn't seemed to notice your reaction. Then you had said goodbye to take your seat in the audience your cheeks flushing as you had felt his strong arms tightly wrapped around you and a part of you was relieved to get out of his room because you were scared of what you might have done if you had spent another second with him alone.

You had felt like a horny teenage boy that had only sex on his mind and had needed a moment to calm down after the encounter with your husband. And now, almost an hour later you were at the exact same point.

When Pedro had came out a couple of minutes ago you had cheered along with everyone else, glowing with pride of him but when you had watched him hug Jimmy Kimmel the smile on your lips had faded your eyes glued to his arms.

'Fuck,' you had cursed inside of your head and tried your best to hide your arousal as you simply couldn't look anywhere else. You obviously knew how well-trained Pedro was at the moment and had never felt shy to give his arms and shoulders a special treatment during sex but it had never been that bad.

You wanted him so badly that you would have run up to him and pull him into a hug just to feel how strong he was at once hadn't there been this quiet rational voice in your head urging you to act normal and not embarrass your husband.

Now it was the middle of the show and you felt incredibly bad for not being able to listen to the interview but your mind traveled elsewhere all the time no matter how hard you concentrated on their conversation. Your eyes relentlessly wandered to his shoulders and arms that were so perfectly hugged and shown off by the shirt.

You wished to sink your teeth into his muscles, trace them with your fingers or tongue and spoil him until he would fall asleep. You wanted him to show you how strong his arms were by pinning you down on the bed and holding you there while pounding into you and – Fuck.

This couldn't be true. You seriously sat there a few feet away from your husband who gave an interview on one of America's biggest late night shows and you daydreamed about him fucking you? Not only did you have zero restraint, no, you were also a very bad wife.

You blinked a few times and shook with your head trying to make the heat in your face vanish and then forced yourself to listen to what they were talking about. You suceeded for a few seconds but then the interview was already over and you quickly rose to your feet and clapped with your hands feeling worse with every second. You had barely heard anything because you were too fucking horny. Fuck.

Once the applause had died down you sat back in your seat inhaling deeply and savoured the fresh air entering your lungs. Now that Pedro had vanished behind the curtain your mind started to feel more clear again, of course. But now it was too late and you had kind of missed your husband's whole appearance. You sighed again hands folding in your lap and chewed on your bottom lip while Coco next to you searched for something in her purse.

"He was amazing, wasn't he?" she then asked turning to you with a big smile.

You forced a chuckle out of you that sounded much more insecure than you had imagined but quickly nodded. "Yes. He really was."

"Are you alright?" Coco then wanted to know and you wished to disappear in the ground.

"Y-Yes. It's just a little warm in here, don't you think?"

Well done. Out of everything you could have said, that was the answer you had come up with. If Coco hadn't already realized what was wrong with you she surely did now.

"A little. But we will be out of here soon."

You nodded looking down at your hands counting the minutes until you could leave and go to the bathroom to splash some cold water in your face. But of course you had to be patient for almost 30 more minutes until you finally had the opportunity to rush to the toilets after having let Coco know.

Once there you rested your hands on either side of the sink taking deep breaths before letting cold water pour into your hands and splashing it onto your cheeks careful not to ruin your makeup. It worked wonders and after doing it a few more times you started to feel like a normal human being again. Of course you still felt a little bad but at least your body had cooled down and you felt kind of ready to meet with Pedro. If only he would take off this goddamn shirt already and then you might be able to focus on the words coming out of his mouth.

You met Pedro backstage in his wardrobe again and to your misfortune he hadn't changed yet.

"Hi baby," he smiled immediately pulling you towards him and you almost moaned at the way his arms locked you to his body.

"Hey," you whispered already failing in acting normally. "You did so wonderful, Pedro, I loved it."

To say you felt bad saying this was an understatement. It broke your heart to lie to him but at the same time you definitely wouldn't tell him that you hadn't listened to a single word of the interview right after.

"Thank you, honey. I had such a good time. I feel like the vibe was there, right?"

You nodded against his chest feeling grateful that he didn't see your guilty expression.

"Yes. It was, I… I did…"

Your voice broke tears welling in your eyes because you simply couldn't do that. You hated lying and what you hated even more was lying to your husband. Therefore you hugged him tighter seeking comfort snuggled up against his chest and sniffed when Pedro kissed your hair.

"Are you alright, baby? What's wrong?"

You slightly pulled away so you could look up to him but made sure that he didn't let go off you.

"I'm sorry, Pedro. I… I'm really sorry."

He frowned a deep crease appearing between his brows as he questioningly tilted his head at you.

"For what?"

You dropped your gaze your hands caressing his chest and shoulder before cradling the back of his head.

"I… I'm sorry. I was kind of distracted during the interview and I… I didn't really listen to most of what you were saying. I'm sorry, I know I'm a terrible person and wife and I regret it so much and I'm feeling really terrible right now but I can't lie to you and pretend and… Fuck, I don't know."

You rubbed over your eyes lips forming a pout but then Pedro pulled you to his chest again carefully pressing your head to his nape.

"Stop," he chuckled and traced patterns over the back of your head.

"No. I'm sorry. I wanted to be there for you and support you and I didn't. I let you down and I'm gonna make it up to you, I promise."

Pedro sighed and kissed your forehead while gently combing through your hair.

"Jesus, y/n… I don't think you know how much you've supported me these last couple of weeks and months. And today as well. Just because you haven't listened to the interview doesn't mean you let me down. You were here for me the whole day, letting me complain about my anxiety and nervousness, you listened to me and were so patient with me although I was a nightmare. I should be the one apologizing to you."

You shook with your head reaching with your hand to his mouth in order to shut him up but missed and the both of you had to laugh as you pressed your hand against his chin. But then you got serious again pulling away from his chest so you could meet his gaze and make sure he took your words to heart.

"Don't say that, Pedro. Don't say you were a nightmare. I'm so fucking proud of you for all of this and don't you dare apologize for anything. You're the sweetest and kindest and funniest person every single day and the very least I can do on days like these is listening to your goddamn interviews."

He broke into a smirk at your words shaking his head in disapprovement but then pulled you in for a kiss.

"Please don't beat yourself up for this, baby. I'm so far from being mad at you about it and you are aware that we can watch the interview together on youtube tonight, right? It's not a big deal, I promise. Please look at me."

Your eyes darted up to him again smiling softly as his finger trailed up your jawline.

"I love you and I would still love you if you missed my next 50 interviews."

"I will never miss any interview of yours again," you quickly stated cradling his cheek but Pedro interrupted you bringing a finger to your mouth.

"Baby, I appreciate your support so much and you can't seriously believe that you're a bad wife just because you didn't properly listen to one interview. I can't imagine how a person could support me better and be there for me more than you are and I mean every. Single. Word."

You teared up at his words wrapping your arms around him with a new determination and shut your eyes simply enjoying to smell his familiar scent and listen to his heartbeat.

"I love you, Pedro."

You could feel him smile against your head and then the two of you stood like that until he took your face in both of his large hands holding you away from him a little. "Baby?"

"Mhm?" you lazily made blinking a couple of times as though you had just woken up from a heavenly dream.

"But why were you distracted?"

Your heart sank into your legs at the question and you instantly felt the heat rising in your face as you tried to come up with an answer as quickly as possible. Pedro was your husband and you definitely shouldn't feel ashamed about yearning for a particular body part of his and yet you couldn't help but feel flustered as he curiously observed you.

"What is it, honey? What drew your attention away from me?"

You shyly grinned looking down at his shirt so you wouldn't have to deal with his piercing eyes because this was already enough to handle.

"Nothing, I… I think it was just… you?"

He narrowed his eyes looking more confused now than before. "What?"

You sighed and gave up in this moment your shoulders dropping but you simply couldn't meet his gaze.

"I think… I was distracted by… you know, your shirt… and the way it makes you look…," you mumbled while nibbling at your thumb that you had brought up to your mouth.

At first you didn't see Pedro's reaction to your words still too shy to take your eyes off the floor but then you heard him chuckle his thumb drawing lazy circles over your cheeks.

"Is that so?" he asked his tone having completely shifted in a way that made your heart skip a beat and goosebumps rise on your arms.

"What about it?"

"Pedro," you whispered pleadingly staring up to him.

"What?" he repeated a mischievious smile sparkling on his lips.

"Your arms. Your shoulders. Your hands."

You had whispered these words close to his nape and in response Pedro's hands ran down your side his grip now firmer and heated up.

"Tell me more," he whispered in your ear holding on to your waist while he started to push you back towards the wall.

"I… I was thinking about kissing your arms and… feeling you grab and hug me. You looked so fucking hot, Pedro, god…," you whimpered feeling him squeeze your waist.

"You're a naughty girl, aren't you?" he chuckled leaving little kisses on your cheek and then when he trailed his hands over your stomach and then to the button of your pants you gasped for air.

"We can't, Pedro. Not in here."

"Why, baby? It's just you and me."

Within seconds of him devouring your swollen lips like it was his tastiest meal and a simple glance downwards to where his hands fumbled with the opening of your pants you were a mush in his arms head falling backwards to rest on the wall and your desire for him taking over your brain.

"Pedro," you whined again your hands gripping his muscular arms the way you had wanted to all night which evoked a low growl in him.

"Yeah honey… Take what you want from me…," he murmured against your parted lips and then finally opened your pants and shoved them down your legs.

The heat pooled in your stomach making your whole body feel like it was on fire and you were sure sweat was already dripping down your forehead just like you were certain your pants were beyond soaked.

Pedro seemingly was wondering the same thing bringing a finger to your clothed pussy and running it over your slit.

"Mhmm yes, there we go… Is that from right now or from the show earlier?"

You once again blushed still not feeling completely free of embarrassment when you thought about the way you had been utterly swept off you feet just because his arms had happened to be on display tonight.

"Both," you plainly answered which wasn't even a lie and then, feeling so eager to fight the throbbing ache between your legs, you rocked your core against him to create some friction with his hand between your thighs.

Pedro laughed which was the happiest and most beautiful sound you had ever heard and then started to suck on your neck his tongue tracing your delicate thin skin.

"I know you need it so badly, mhm? I'm gonna give it to you, baby, I promise. Just tell me what you need."

Your eyes rolled back in your head as your clit brushed against the palm of his hand and your trembling hands held on to his thick arms.

"Need… your hand, Pedro, please."

He smirked a crooked smile, complying to your want though and started to go through your folds with two thick fingers to tease you before stopping at your clit and circling it through the fabric of your underwear. You moaned eyes springing open again and then your eyes darted at his bicep for a brief moment which Pedro obviously noticed.

"Oh honey…," he sniggered his left hand squeezing your waist firmly. "Go on," he then said his husky voice sending you spiraling.

"No need to get shy on me. I told you, I want you to take from me whatever you want. You can look at it, you can kiss it, you can bite it…"

He caressed your chin tilting your head a little so you had no choice but to meet his gaze but his eyes looked so sincere and warm that you had to believe him. Feeling reassured you glanced at his arms again and bit your lip at the way his right arm flexed so wonderfully as he was still busy flicking and toying with your clit.

"Pedro… Oh my fucking god, I need you."

It seemed like these were the words that made him push down the rest of the fabric separating your needy pussy from him and once you were bare he didn't waste any more time collecting your arousal with the pat of two fingers and smearing it all over your cunt.

You writhed and shifted, your whole body shaking with anticipation and the need to push yourself impossibly close to your husband and then when Pedro finally pressed his digits against your throbbing clit you cried out arms wrapping around the back of his neck.

"Fuck, Pedro… Huh," you panted your thighs threatening to close around his hand.

"The things I wanna do to you…," Pedro's hot breath brushed over your ear and it definitely wasn't helping.

He enclosed your clit between two fingers creating delicious friction and teasingly flicking the little nub. When he felt like giving you more he rubbed in tight circles using your arousal as lubrication and soon your wetness was running down your legs which probably would have made you feel embarrassed had he not have you wrapped around his little finger, drooling and salivating at how he knew his way around your body like he had studied you.

"I need you to come for me, baby. I need to see you come all over my hand."

You started to rock your body against him riding his hand to bring yourself closer to your orgasm while Pedro whispered sweet words of encouragement in your ear. Your eyes were fluttering, hand clenching in fists to get rid of the tension in your body but you knew reaching your high would be the only relief that would help you so you tried to get off, rubbing your clit against his hand in time with the movement of his fingers.

But before you could come there was a wish lingering in your head that you just had to express as it had consumed you all night and you knew telling him was what Pedro wanted.

"I need your arms, Pedro," you therefore pleaded helplessly grasping his bicep and without even knowing what exactly it was you needed him to do, he picked you up under your arms, carried you to the carpet in front of the couch and sat down on it.

He turned you around so you could settle between his legs with your back pressed against his chest and then instantly got back to work fingering your pussy while your head was spinning. You seriously wondered how he managed to stay so cool and clear-headed while you were utterly stunned by this new position and when Pedro wrapped his arms around your abdomen his large hand sprawling on top of your stomach your pussy clenched and your body tensed up.

"I'm gonna cum," you whimpered eyes widening while you watched his hand and arms around you and before you could even listen to his answer a fire exploded inside of you and you saw white. You allowed yourself to drop back, your head resting on his shoulder and Pedro was happy to catch you as his arms held you firmly and his mouth whispered phrases of comfort.

"That's good, baby, that's right… You're being such a good girl for me right now… I'm so proud of you for being so honest with me."

He kissed your hair softly cradling your body and trailing his hands up and down your arms.

"I always wanna give you just what you want. Because I love you and I wanna make you feel good."

You let out another whine but this time it was the sound of a cat that had just found her favourite position in the world that she never intended to leave. You snuggled up in his arms adjusting yourself to be closer to him and closed your eyes while listening to his heartbeat.

"That was so perfect, Pedro," you whispered and your smile intensed when he offered you his arm to coil your body around and cling to for dear life. Your fingers were buried in his muscles which sent little shockwaves through his body every now and then and when you started to kiss his skin the both of you almost lost it.

"Baby…," Pedro moaned trying to move his arm away a little but you were determined hands clutching him tightly.

Your mouth traced his veins leaving open-mouthed kisses and the sheer thickness of his biceps alone drove you insane. The prominent bulge that pressed up against your ass didn't go unnoticed by you and to tease him even more, you began rocking yourself against him. Pedro reacted to it by sighing into your ear the hand of his right arm, that you hadn't captured, moving up your leg.

"Baby. I need you."

Instead of answering you continued, eager to evoke more of these sweet little whines in him and to say that you were doing a good job was an understatement. Considering the amount of pressure with which he squeezed your thigh he really was in need of some relief and the huge bulge beneath you hinted at the fact that he was already close to busting. Now you had him right where you wanted him and if there was one thing in the world you were addicted to, it was driving Pedro Pascal mad.

"Baby, I need you. I need to fuck you… jesus fucking christ."

The combination of your pretty ass rubbing against him and your mouth devouring his biceps like it was something holy and admirable made his mind go blank and all he could think about was feeling your pussy clench around him.

"Fuck me," you answered, not any less able to hide your lust and then felt Pedro lift you by your waist and then turning you around so you could sit on his lap.

You didn't stop with your hip movement, your core desperately grinding down on him and now it was the perfect angle for your clit to get some stimulation as well.

"I want you to ride me, baby," Pedro demanded and you were quick to reply by opening the button of his pants.

Despite your trembling hands you succeeded pulling them down, his underwear following just enough so his cock was freed. His dick looked so delicious and hard that you just had to lean down to kiss the tip and taste his precum for a few seconds but Pedro's fingers unpatiently pressed in your ass letting you know what he wanted.

That was why you eventually pulled away again straightening up and wrapping a hand around his cock while you moved in his lap until your entrance was hovering over his leaking dick. Your eyes locked, Pedro's hand connecting with the side of your face and the both of you let out a gasp when you slowly sank down on his length, lashes fluttering as you felt him disappear in you inch by inch.

"Oh fuck me," he grunted head dropping to his chest and his hands resting behind him on the carpet to keep himself up. Your knees were on either side of his body on the ground, your hands all over his face and head while you began to ride him. You simply loved how vocal and responsive he was, not shy about reacting to each roll of your hips with a deep gasp or growl.

"That's it, baby," his raspy voice soothed you, his hands still lingering at your waist.

"You're doing so well for me. Treating my cock so fucking well."

"Pedro," you sighed out hands trailing down his chest and over this damn shirt. "Choke me. Please. Hard."

An evil smile appeared on his lips the slight bite on his bottom lip sending you straight to heaven and hell at the same time and of course your precious husband was happy to fulfill your wish bringing his right hand to your neck and applying light pressure.

"You dirty, dirty girl," he snarled blaring his teeth when your lips parted in order to gasp for air.

Your eyes shot down to his arms to admire the way his muscles tensed and by now you were so far gone that no part of you felt ashamed for your clear obsession with his bicep anymore. Pedro didn't neither; he kept his hands tight around your throat, enjoying the way you squirmed while you tried to uphold your steady pace of bouncing on his cock.

It was obvious that you struggled your rhythm getting destroyed by his light squeezes every now and then but Pedro had too much fun watching you try so hard for him that he just smirked at your frustrated moans. He then suddenly pulled you towards him your hands coming up to rest on top of his hand around your neck, his mouth so close to your ear you felt his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

"You want me to take over, mhm?"

You could only nod your whole body aching and burning from the exhaustion, your limbs feeling like you had just run a marathon although it had barely been 10 minutes of riding him.

"Alright, babygirl," he whispered the dominant and caring side of him having taken over now and his main purpose from now on was to make you come again for him. Just for him.

He pushed you backwards until you fell over but of course caught you before your head would hit the floor and gently laid you down on your back. Pedro hovered over you his knees parting your legs, aligned his cock with your entrance once more and then started to thrust in you at his pace now.

The room was filled with pornographic sounds that were more than inappropriate to be heard in the wardrobe of a late night show but the two of you couldn't care less. You were so drenched that the wet sound of his cock pounding your pussy echoed against the walls along with your heavy pantings and the little pleas escaping your lips every few seconds. Pedro's balls slapped against your core, his fingers additionally playing with your clit now and you knew it would be a matter of seconds until you would come again.

Scared to leave your husband behind you scratched over his hand that was still tight around your throat to let him know that you needed to say something and luckily he understood loosening his grip slightly.

"I'm close, baby, I'm gonna come."

"Come for me, honey. I'm close too. Just let go for me, baby."

Finding that you might need the extra thrill Pedro tightened his hand around your neck again, a little more intense this time so you choked on a gasp and actually reached your high in this very moment. You cried out, your whole body arching underneath him and Pedro lovingly watched each of your little squirms and twists.

"Yes, baby. That's what I wanna see, yeah…"

His hand didn't leave your clit for once, wanting to tease out every last bit of your exquisite release and when your glossy eyes rolled back a milky shimmer covering your pupils he decided that you had enough and as he didn't want to push you too far Pedro eased his hand choking you and stopped circling your clit.

Now it was time for him to orgasm as well and so he finally allowed the knot in his stomach to tighten and explode and the effects of it were truly divine.

Pleasure spread all throughout his body, little shockwaves making his limbs twitch and soon he couldn't hold himself up anymore crashing into your body and breathing heavily against your nape.

"Ohh baby… You feel so goddamn perfect, jesus… Don't know what I did to deserve you."

Pedro closed his eyes focusing on savouring the beautiful emotions his orgasm evoked in him and then carefully moved his hips making sure his cum would stay inside of you which you reacted to with a jolt, your pussy aching at the overstimulation.

"Shh…," he soothed you moving a strand of your sweaty hair behind your ear his hand lingering at your waist while pulling out of you.

"There you go... You're a fucking dream, baby."

You twitched again quietly moaning when Pedro gently fondled your shoulders while moving down your body to get a taste from your pussy. He licked through your folds collecting your wetness mixed with his cum and hummed in pleasure as he relished your releases.

You watched him quietly, your breath still hatching in your throat and your eyes glowing with the aftermath of your high. Pedro took his time cleaning your cunt and then gave your clit one last kiss that made you jerk as it felt beyond swollen.

He crawled up to you again pressing his lips on yours which made you taste him and you on your tongue but it was only a brief moment before there was a loud bang on the door echoing against the walls and you widened your eyes in shock.

"Pedro? Are you in there? And have you seen y/n?"

A wide smirk appeared on your husband's face seemingly feeling a lot more amused about this than you were, whose fear was clearly visible on your face. Pedro carefully stroked your cheek fingers tracing the area under your eyes and then turned his head to the door.

"It's fine, Coco. Y/n is with me and we'll be ready to go soon."

At first there was no reply and you furrowed your brow but then a loud "Alright. I'll wait down the hall for you." made you exhale in relief and Pedro crawled off you to stand up.

"Relax, honey. Coco wouldn't just burst in on someone like that. And even if she had, you believe she thinks we don't sleep with each other?"

You rolled your eyes getting up as well and adjusting your clothes while Pedro did the same.

"Of course not. But that doesn't mean I want her to catch us doing it."

"Fair. But she didn't."

He closed his belt pursing his lips as he watched you comb through your messy hair and then approached you pulling you in for a deep kiss.

"We shouldn't make Coco wait," you whispered at some point already lost in the closeness of his body again and just because you had just orgasmed didn't mean that his gorgeous arms didn't have this special kind of effect on you anymore.

"I know…," Pedro mumbled the sound muffled by your lips but he didn't make an attempt to pull away.

Eventually you managed to break away though kissing the tip of his nose with a peaceful smile on your lips and took his hand to guide him to the door.

You just wanted to open it to finally step outside when you heard him lowly chuckle next to you so you stopped in the movement curiously looking up to him.

"I think I should keep this t-shirt."

[imheretoreadafic]

There is an absurd amount of juice boxes in the Watchtower.

At first, they thought J'onn was the one purchasing and stashing them. It made sense. They're good for when you have low blood sugar, are dehydrated or lost blood. They're also tasty! And everyone knows how much J'onn likes sugary drinks and snacks.

But when Clark asks J'onn where he buys them, he gives him an odd look and says, "I do not purchase those."

Everyone interrogates him about who it is, but the alien is nothing but a man of his word and apparently promised whoever purchased them he wouldn't tell. It becomes a whole thing, obviously, because they won't let it go.

Bets are made about who the Juice Giver is. The younger members ask the Juice Giver for good luck before going on missions, and the older members are trying their absolute hardest to figure it out.

Then, Nightwing joins temporarily for a global wide meta human and alien kidnapping ring and is loopy from blood loss after being stabbed and stitched up. Batman is by his side in the medical area, cooing softly to him. Then, he pulls a juice box out of his belt.

Wally, who was also injured and is getting patched up on the cot next to them, gasps at the recognizable juice box brand. "YOURE THE JUICE GIVER!!" He literally screams, making Nightwing jump.

Batman's eyes widen, and he goes to shush him, but it's too late. Everyone with super hearing is busting through the door, and everyone else is following them. He sighs and resigns himself to the following chaos while helping his kid not stab himself in the eye with his straw.

[k0mmari]

Sword Spirit AU - Xiu Ya (pt.1)

Hello hello! This is going to be a very very casual AU with the first half being dedicated to Xiu Ya(jiuyuan) and the other Xin Mo(bingyuan), so sit tight, relax, and maybe put on some Soul Eater in the background, because this is basically it.

This post is going to be VERY LONG, so sorry in advance ^^;;

It's finally time for Shen Jiu to go to Wan Jian Peak and get his spiritual sword, one of the final steps for his Shizun to finally, oficially, name him Head Disciple, even if the rest of Qing Jing will most likely fight Shizun in her decision.

It would be no surprise, ever since SJ stepped foot there, rumors have been spreading about him, usually about how he only got in so late due to Yue Qi's influence, or how he paid his way in as a young master (as if the rest of the disciples hadn't done exactly that) and thinks he's better than everyone, or how he never fights fair and uses underhanded methods during spars. All rumors don't hold a drop of truth in them of course, but SJ has better things to do than trying to clean his image to a bunch of spoiled brats.

It's not like any of them would believe him, anyways.

In all honesty, he'd rather not be Head Disciple at all, but this is the best way at getting to a secure enough spot that he won't have to worry as much about his safety, even if he will be forced to look after a bunch of children he couldn't care less about. Anyways, SJ's only hope now for something to go marginally right his way is for him to get a good sword.

He gets to the sword wall and, as luck would have it, he feels a pull, calling him to a beautiful sword: elegant, refined and everything SJ desperately hopes he can be.

SJ carefully pulls the sword out of the wall and immediatelly he can feel a connection forming, his slugish qi rushing into the blade and in exchange, a flash of bright, almost refreshing qi runs through him. For a moment his muscles relax as he feels the sword gently humming in his hand.

He walks away from the wall, a few of the other disciples that also had come to retrieve their spiritual sword already holding their own blades, but the only person that SJ cares to show his own sword stands a bit further away. His ever aloof Shizun and... Yue Qi, who was not invited, but decided to come anyways. Great.

YQ wastes no time in praising his sword and how it's a perfect fit for 'Xiao-Jiu' (which only earns him a nasty side-eye), but SJ controls his urge to bite the other boy and focuses on his Shizun. She merely send the sword a glance, unimpressed, and instead says "Disciple Shen has now a spiritual blade of his own. He will get to know his blade, which will aid him with his... cultivation problems, but also raise his cultivation to new heights."

SJ grinds his teeth, not wanting to be reminded about his shitty cultivation, but thankfully, Shizun doesn't dwell on the topic. "When Disciple Shen fully becomes one with his sword, the blade will reward him and show it's true self. It is only then that Disciple Shen will become a truly honorable cultivator."

True... Self? With a subtle glance, SJ confirms even YQ looks a bit surprised, apparently also never haven heard about a swords 'true self', but Shizun doesn't ellaborate any further on it, instead moving on as if she hadn't said anything special, and turning to head back to Qing Jing, uncaring if any other disciples weren't done getting their swords yet.

She unsheathes her own spiritual sword, intending on letting her disciples walk all the way back, but before setting off, she turns towards SJ. "Disciple Shen, the name of your sword."

SJ huffs but brings his sword closer, and reads the engraving on the base of the blade. "...Xiu Ya."

Just as SJ finishes reading the name out loud, the sword starts violently vibrating, catching SJ and his Shizun off guard, and it flings itself off of SJ's hands, flying a short distance before it stabbed the ground.

SJ's hands are left hanging in the air where he once held the sword, frozen stiff in his shock. It certainly doesn't help that is Shizun, who is never phased and now looks visibly shocked, mutters to herself: "I... didn't know a sword could do that."

.........Great.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week after the whole... situation on Wan Jian, SJ is now convinced his spiritual sword hates him.

It just... doesn't do anything he wants it to do! If his Shizun orders him to spar with another disciple with it, Xiu Ya could randomly just fling itself out of his hand, or physically pull him in another direction when he is speaking with another disciple, and no matter how Shizun instructs him to send his qi to the blade, to 'connect' with it, Xiu Ya refuses to cooperate, one day even straight up denying his qi.

Unbeknownst to SJ, his sword is no longer a regular spiritual blade, and actually a host for a recently deceased Shen Yuan, who woke up from his sleep to his new owner pulling him out of the wall and promptly panicked when he heard his name be declared Xiu Ya, which could only mean his new owner was none other than the scum villain himself, SQQ.

It was then and there that SY decided it would be now his life's mission to stop any evil wrongdoings a teenage SQQ must get up to. (It translated to him flinging himself out of SJ's hand any time he felt himself getting too close to another disciple's skin, or vibrating angrily when SJ started to insult someone.)

SJ takes Xiu Ya to his Shizun, and even to Wan Jian's Peak Lord, to check if there's something wrong with his sword, or if he had done soemthing wrong, but both reassure him that the sword is fine, and it must be testing him, urging him to 'clear his heart' to better connect with it.

SJ, feeling like his chance at being Head Disciple is slipping through his fingers the longer he can't get a hold of his own sword, it's supposed to obey him, tends more often than not to... argue with it. It, of course, only creates more rumours about him and his 'cursed sword', but he doesn't have time for this, and he won't let a piece of metal ruin his chances at rising up the ranks.

Everything starts to change one fateful day where everything just seems to go wrong all at once for SJ: His Shizun goes away in a three-day long mission, which leaves him the responsability to look after the peak, and none of the other disciples are willing to make it easy for him, constantly getting in his way, purposefully waisting his time and straight up insulting him to his face.

Yue Qi even tries to grace SJ with his presence, but it takes him no longer than 5 minutes before he manages to say the wrong thing, and it takes even less for it to snowball into SJ expelling him from the peak unless the whole Sect is set on fire. It gets so bad even SY, usually happy to mostly daydream where he sits sheathed at SJ's waist, takes note of it, and gets a bit concerned for the boy.

SY already notices SJ's spiritual veins where all sorts of messed up, but it only becomes relevant when he notices his qi heading straight towards a qi deviation, and no matter how SY tries to vibrate and wiggle, it only seems to upset SJ even further and by the end of the day, as SY suspected, SJ hides away at the bamboo house and falls to the floor, gasping through a qi deviation.

He'd usually just tough his qi deviations out, or pass them at the Warm Red Pavillion, but now he isn't even afforded the mercy of being to suffer alone, as some disciple might come looking for his 'help', and he'd be damned if someone snitched on him to Shizun for not doing his duty as (unnoficial) Head Disciple.

SY, as much as he doesn't really like SJ, for once understands SJ's constant state of frustration when the moment the Peak Lord leaves, his peers treat him like this, and no matter how shitty SJ is- or, rather, may become in the future, SY can't stand being idle as he watches the boy shaking on the floor, gasping in pain.

It's a bit awkward but SY manages to make himself float over towards SJ's trembling body, trying his best to project his own energy outward and reach towards SJ. It's there for only a second, but SY manages to feel a similar connection to when SJ first picked him up, and SY can feel, in a weird flash, the mix of emotions swirling in SJ's soul: his anger, his frustration, but most importantly his deeply rooted sadness, and fear.

It's not really an explanation for why SJ acts the way he does, but SY can understand when a child lashes out in fear when that's all they know. He reaches into SJ's qi, carefully patting it down and soothing it until SJ finally stops trembling and slumps onto the ground, knocked out.

Maybe... Maybe Shen Yuan was in the wrong, and Shen Jiu deserves a second chance.

[myricall]

Bllk boyfriend headcanons<3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Boyfriend! Isagi who would never miss out the chance of giving you one of his jersey's to wear. He would never admit it but the way he felt seeing his name on your back, his number. Truly made him feel like you were his (ofc you always saw the he blushed when you wore them tho<3)

...

"Yoichi..? Are you okay?" you smile softly whilst laying on your stomach on his bed. He'd make sure to always have time every day to hang out.

Your boyfriend stood there in the doorway in some sort of gaze. God he loved the way his name was splayed out across your back.

His cheeks heated up.

"y-yeah.. Just thinking about something" he mumbled back, shutting the door behind him.

"why don't you come think about it on the bed with me?"

He couldn't resist you...

>>>>>

Boyfriend! Bachira that constantly peppers your face with kisses and cannot keep his hands off of you! You're sitting alone on his bed? Cuddles! Walking with him? You bet he's holding your hand. Just be prepared to be bombarded with physical touch.

... 

"Meg- that tickles" your sweet voice cuts through, trying to hide your neck as Bachira covers your shoulders with quick little kisses.

How could he resist!

You wore that strappy top that revealed your perfect skin. You tasted so sweet he could just eat you up for the rest of his life.

"just a few more!- peck, missed you today"

"-we only haven't seen each other for a few hours!"

"I know- too long. Now stay still"

>>>>>

Boyfriend! Rin that acts nonchalant when out in public but acts all soft when just with you. He may not act like it all the time but trust when I say this man is head over heels for you and he'll definitely show it when jealous... He makes sure to let everyone know you're his after<3

... 

Today was one of the rare days that Rin was free from all the training that he did.

"Rin! Isn't this shirt so cute?" You pulled out another shirt from the rack, showing it to your boyfriend who already had a handful of bags stacking up on his arms.

"Don't you already have one like that?" He muttered, raising an eyebrow as he looked at you.

"you just don't get it" huffing as you check out the shirt more.

Rin sighed, looking around the store before his eyes caught onto something. More like.. Someone.

Was that employee looking at you?

Eurgh. Not on his watch.

At an instant, he linked your arm with his, taking the shirt from your hands.

"We're going"

"But the shirt-"

"We'll buy it- let's go"

You left the store with a new shirt and a much more clingy Rin on your hands.

>>>>>

Boyfriend! Nagi who acts needy and helpless whenever you are near him. Everything suddenly becomes a hassle that requires your help. He swears that without you sitting in his lap, he'd lose at every single videogame.

... 

"Just one more game pretty" Nagi held you tighter in his grip making sure you were secure.

"You said that last match.. And the one before that.."

"Yeah but I'm on a win streak.. Please, you're my good luck charm" he huffed, keeping you in place as his thumbs tapped on his phone.

You shuffled in his lap, figuring you should at least get comfortable. You're gonna be here for a while...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~work of @myricall (help i need more ideas </3)

[covenofagatha]

Summer Starts With You

Agnes x reader

You're bored at your graduation party until your mom's best friend, Agnes, shows up.

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: agnes has a penis, blowjob, sex, age gap, bratty reader, choking, handjob

“So, graduation…what’s next?”

It’s the only question you’ve been asked for the last few months. It’s gotten boring—you’ve lately started switching it up. Sometimes, you’ll tell them that you have absolutely no clue. Other times, you’ll tell them you’re thinking of going on to get your doctorate. 

God forbid they give you more than two seconds after graduating college to figure out the rest of your life. All you know is that you want to have a free summer so you can do whatever you want, whenever you want, with no responsibilities or school or work to worry about. You’re owed at least that. 

You plaster a smile onto your face. “I’m going to probably take a small break, maybe a gap year, and then apply for my Masters.” 

A lie, or maybe not. You don't know yet.

It’s a distant relative you’re talking to, a cousin a few times removed that you haven’t seen in a few years, but for your grad party, your parents pulled out all the stops and invited as many people as they could. It’s a party at their house and guests have been trickling in and out for the past two hours. 

Only one more hour of The Question to go. 

“Don’t take too long in between,” your cousin advises solemnly. “Super hard to get that motivation back.” 

You nod. “That’s what everyone says.” 

There’s people hovering in your periphery, just waiting to talk to you. You told your parents you didn’t want a big thing but of course, this was more about showing their daughter off to everyone rather than actually giving you the small get-together you actually asked for. 

All you want is a break. 

Or someone interesting for you to talk to. 

As if on cue, the front door opens and in walks Agnes O’Connor, one of your mom’s best friends. She’s a detective and you’ve had the hots for her ever since she pulled you over your sophomore year of college for not coming to a complete stop at a stop sign. She had ultimately turned you down after you had flirted for a bit—you could tell she was thinking about it, at least—but she didn’t give you a ticket. A good sign.

That's actually how she met your mom, after you had exaggerated just a little when you told your parents about getting pulled over and your mom had flown into the station in a rage, hellbent on finding the woman who had “accosted” her darling daughter. 

Agnes had explained what really happened—although she left out the flirting; another good sign—and for some reason, that’s what made them click. 

You watch her look around the crowd of people and you lock eyes. She raises a brow and you wink. 

Just because she turned you down the first time, and the second time, and all the other times you’ve tried, doesn’t mean you stop. She’s fun to tease, even if you know it’s probably not going anywhere ever. Plus you see the heat in her eyes, the way she checks you out when she thinks you're not looking. She wants you just as bad, she just has a harder time admitting it to herself.

Agnes walks over into the kitchen where platters of subs, chicken nuggets, and fruit are laid out and she picks up a plate. Her long, dark hair is tied back and she’s wearing a royal-blue checkered shirt with navy pants and black boots. Your vision is glued to the subtle swaying of her ass in those pants that fit her just right and someone says something to you that you completely miss. 

She grabs a sandwich and spoons some watermelon onto her plate and then takes a beer. You feel hope rising in your chest that she’ll come over and save you, but much to your chagrin, she walks over and finds your mom. They strike up a conversation and you’re left having to answer The Question again. 

This time, you tell them that you’re going to try to find a job and the couple says, “Good luck.” You know what that means—you’re not finding a good job right out of college and you better get your ass back in school. 

All of your friends are outside, actually having a good time. You long to join them, but your mom will kill you if you disappear into the backyard, or anywhere. You’ve thought about making a break to your room a few times, but she always stares you down like she knows exactly what you’re thinking and she’s just daring you to try. 

But then Agnes touches your mom’s arm, whispers something in her ear, and walks right past you into the sitting room at the front of the house. It has doors and she’ll be the only one in there. 

“Will you excuse me?” you say to the person you’re talking to now—a neighbor of your parents, maybe a friend of your dad’s—and avoid your mom’s eye contact as you follow Agnes into the room. 

Just as you suspected, it’s only Agnes, and she’s sitting on the gray couch against the wall, right in the middle. Her legs are spread just a bit, the plate of half-eaten food on the end table next to her, and her beer in hand. 

“Thanks for coming, Agnes,” you say as you close the door behind you. She smirks and rakes her eyes over the crop top and definitely too-short jean shorts you’re wearing. “Were you expecting someone in here?” 

She gives you a crooked, wry smile. “Just wanted a little break from the festivities.” It’s not a definitive “yes, I wanted you to follow me,” but you can read between the lines. 

You grin and cross the room in a few long strides and slide right onto her lap sideways, so your thighs are perpendicular on top of hers. You steal the beer bottle and take a swig. 

“Congrats, kid,” she says in a gruff voice and she shifts beneath you. Her lashes are long and you’re so close you think you could count them. Her blue eyes are deep and full of something. You can see her pupils expanding. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing after graduation?” you simper and hand the bottle back to her. 

She huffs and takes it and ignores your fingers blatantly brushing against hers. “Figured you’ve been drowning in that question.” 

You shrug with a coy smile playing on your lips. “I’d happily answer anything you ask.” 

Agnes shifts again and you bite your lip. There’s a hardness—or at least a semi-hardness—in her pants that’s now pressing into your thigh. 

Her cock. 

The outline has been visible before and it makes your head foggy and your cunt wet. You’re not sure when the last time you came not thinking about it was. 

You push your leg further into her cock and she grimaces, but she doesn’t pull away. You can hear people outside talking and you can’t remember if you locked the door. You’re friendly with Agnes in front of others—albeit, not sit-on-her-lap friendly—so it wouldn’t be super damning if someone were to walk in right now, but you don’t want to be interrupted. 

“Did you get me a gift?” you ask teasingly, but there’s no mistaking the heat in your voice. 

Agnes takes a deep breath and she takes a sip of beer before resting the bottle on your thigh. It’s cold and your chest flares. “There’s a card on the gift table. Wrote in it that you shouldn't roll through stop signs.” 

“If it gets you to pull me over again, Agnes, I’d do anything,” you say sweetly and she rolls her eyes fondly. As much as she puts up a front, you know she secretly likes you like this. “But I know something else you can give me.” You wink, just so she knows exactly what you mean, and she scoffs. 

“I’m best friends with your mom and you’re like twenty-five years younger than me,” Agnes points out, as if you can’t feel her erection right now. 

“So?” you breathe, pushing your leg harder against her cock and she presses the bottle harder into your leg with a glare. “Don’t act like that doesn’t turn you on. I can feel you.”  

Agnes grits her teeth. The lines on her face are hardened and you want to drag your tongue over them. “You need to go back out to your party, kid. Your parents will be mad.” But her resolve is weakening, you can tell. 

“Please, Agnes?” you say, giving her puppy-dog eyes. She refuses to look at you so you get out of her lap and sink to your knees on the white carpet in front of her. 

Now she does look at you and there’s no denying the heat in her pupils. You put your hands on her knees and drag them up her thighs until your right hand is right below her bulge. 

“Let me give you what you need,” you plead, taking a chance and laying your fingers over her length. She jolts and bites her lip. 

It’s her, in the end, that unbuckles her belt and unzips her pants for you. She doesn’t take them off, just opens them enough for you to eagerly reach into her boxers and wrap your fingers around her. 

She groans quietly when you pull her out and you’re surprised she made it this long without fucking you if this is the reaction you have on her. Her cock is standing tall in the air, rigid and leaking, and blue veins stretch from the base to right under the head. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper and it’s echoed by her when you start slowly moving your hand up and down her length. You collect the liquid beading at the top to reduce the friction and it works because Agnes’s head drops back onto the couch and her eyes flutter shut from just your hand. 

“I shouldn’t fucking want you this bad,” she spits out, almost as if she’s angry at herself for it, and you chuckle sweetly before rubbing your thumb over her tip. Her hips jerk up. “Your mom would kill me.” 

It should be a turnoff, her mentioning your mother, but something about the forbidden nature of this—and Agnes bringing it up as you're stroking her cock—makes your cunt ache even more. 

“What would she say if she knew you fucked her daughter?” you ask and twist your wrist so she can’t answer the question. She clamps a hand over her mouth because if she makes a loud sound, your mom will know. 

“I don’t fucking care right now,” Agnes growls and a thrill runs through you. She’s leaking copious amounts of precum right now and it’s getting all over your hand and the only thing you want to do is taste her. 

She watches your mouth get closer to her cock and her breathing becomes short and shallow like she can’t actually believe what you’re about to do. 

Your tongue darts out to flick the head and Agnes gasps. You smile up at her and then enclose your lips around her before sucking gently. She moans and it’s muffled by her hand as she struggles to keep eye contact. 

Her hand buries into your hair when you start to move further down her cock, always bobbing back up to give yourself a break and some time, and her fingers tighten but never push. She’s being gentle, even though you can feel the restraint in her thighs. 

One of your hands strokes the bottom half of her cock while you mouth at the top part, dragging your tongue filthily over the tip and tasting the salty precum. You moan softly around her and she screws her eyes shut at the vibrations. 

Agnes is having a really hard time staying quiet and you’re loving every second of it. You almost want her to make noise just so you can know how much you’re affecting her, but her cock is twitching and pulsing and throbbing on your tongue, so you have a good idea. 

There’s an ocean between your legs and you’re a bit worried you’ve soaked through your underwear and shorts. Your entire body is humming with energy and you’ve never felt so alive, even when you take Agnes’s cock all the way down and you feel it hitting the back of your throat. You gag and spit flies out of your mouth and gets on your chin and the bottom of her flannel, but she just whimpers lowly and tugs at your hair as encouragement. 

Her hips thrust up, pushing her cock over and over into your mouth, and more precum is dripping onto your tongue, which you rub on the underside of her length. Her legs spasm and she sharply inhales. 

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” she pants and you chuckle as much as you can with her cock in your mouth, which only makes her whine more. You lose yourself in sucking on her, closing your eyes and getting more enthusiastic with your movements, and you think she’s about to come very soon. 

You open your eyes and look up at her through your hooded lashes and she groans at how you look with her dick in your mouth. The only sounds in the room are her quiet but heavy breathing and your slurping sounds and you wish you were able to hear her falling apart for you properly. 

Maybe next time. 

Your throat is raw but your clit is aching and if you don’t get some relief soon, you’re not sure what will happen. And you have to go back out to your party after this. 

That’s enough for you to pull back with a pop and it takes a moment for the strands connecting your swollen lips to her wet and messy cock to break. You stand up while she watches you, too dazed out with pleasure to ask what you’re doing, and shimmy off your shorts. 

Agnes’s cock lurches forward and spills precum on her shirt when she sees the purple underwear you have on underneath. Can she see how wet they are from there? You can certainly feel it. 

“Do you have—”

She knows what you’re asking for before you finish and she reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a gold, square packet. 

You smirk. “Do you always come over to my house with a condom or were you just feeling lucky today?” 

Agnes doesn’t answer; she just tears the wrapper open with her teeth and rolls it onto her cock. You ache for her, you long to feel her inside you, so the moment the condom is on, you’re straddling her lap again, only this time, facing her. 

Her tongue pokes between her teeth as she reaches down between you to pull your panties to the side and then position her cock at your entrance. Even the slight pressure brings you pleasure and you can only imagine what she’ll feel like inside you. 

You move down slowly, pausing after the tip slides inside to adjust to the girth—she’s big, bigger than you realized even when you were sucking her off. Her head drops back again and your forehead falls onto her shoulder, your mouth open-breathing against her flannel as you take her in. Your walls stretch to accommodate and it burns in the best way and you whimper when you feel her finally all inside you. There’s a feeling you’ve never felt before in your stomach, almost like you have to pee, because of how deep her cock is. 

“Fuck, Agnes,” you whine into her shirt and her hands grip onto your hips to hold you still. You can feel her pulsing and she’s holding her breath like she’s afraid to let too much out. 

When you pull back, you see her bottom lip is sucked in between her teeth and the vein in her forehead is throbbing. There’s a pink tint to her cheeks. She’s never looked so hot to you right now. 

“You feel so fucking good,” she groans, voice rough as gravel, and it sends tingles down your spine; you unconsciously clench around her. “Your cunt is so tight. So fucking wet.” 

You nod, not able to put how good she’s filling you into words, and you need to start moving. 

Her fingers dig into your hips when you lift yourself back up, putting your hands around her shoulders to stabilize yourself, and you feel her cock drag against every groove inside your pussy. It’s delicious and mind-blowing and this is the best thing you ever could’ve gotten. 

What are your plans for after graduation? 

Agnes. 

Both of your mouths drop open when you start to slide back down her cock and your warm, wet walls are once again wrapped around her. 

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” Agnes says sternly, but thrusts her hips up so she hits even deeper inside you and that’s the message you choose to listen to.

She gasps when you grind on her and then swirl your hips around and it feels like her cock is swelling inside you. 

Her nails scrape against your skin and you stop going slow because both of you need this so insanely much right now. You start riding her, fast and hard and determined, and she bucks up to meet you each time. 

It’s getting harder to stay silent and you reach down to tug at her left hand and pull it up and around your throat. Her eyes flash, her breath catches, and her rhythm stutters and you’re worried for a second that you’ve gone too far, but her fingers tighten around you, not too much, but just enough to make your thoughts blur. 

The light pressure makes your gasps more breathy, but they’re definitely quieter and Agnes’s lip starts to bleed from how hard she’s biting it while watching you move up and down. You arch your back on the way up and her hand still on your hip claws at you. 

Your walls are clenching furiously, spasming and convulsing around her, and you can feel her pulsing inside of you, too. 

“Agnes, fuck,” you moan and her fingers on your throat tighten, making your vision swim for a second. It only makes you wetter and you can feel the slickness on your inner thighs from the mess leaking out of you. Her pants are going to be soaked. 

She nods frantically, cheeks a bright red now, and you never break eye contact. It’s strangely intimate, but you know how long both of you have been waiting for this. 

If only she had let you blow her for rolling through the stop sign the first time you met her. It could’ve been two years of her cock inside you. 

But in some ways, the wait just makes it better. 

The pressure in your stomach is building and it’s getting harder to keep moving up and down on her and she’s feeling it too, based on how sloppy her thrusts have become. Your breaths intermingle and your forehead is resting against hers, sweat mixing, and you’re so fucking close. 

“Agnes, I’m going to—fuck—I’m gonna come,” you pant out and she laughs breathlessly and the hand on your hip moves down and effortlessly finds your clit. You clench around her with a steel grip and you crash your lips against hers without even thinking so you don’t moan loudly. She groans into your mouth and then her tongue is sliding against your tongue and you momentarily forget that you’re supposed to be riding her. 

Her hand tightens around your throat and you keen into her mouth, clenching, and she keeps rubbing your clit and you’re so close, you’re so fucking close—

“Come for me,” she growls and nips at your bottom lip, drives her hips up, squeezes your throat, and presses hard on your clit. 

That’s all it takes and she swallows all of your moans even though a few escape as you fall apart for her, but you can’t find it in yourself to care that someone outside this room at the party—your party—could come barging in and see you coming all over your mom’s best friend’s cock. Your mind goes blank and your vision goes white and for a moment, the only thing that exists is Agnes. 

She hasn’t come yet and she takes her hand away from your throat, letting air finally rush in unrestricted, and paws at your hips with a desperate look in her eyes. 

“Your mouth,” she whispers like she’s hurt and you quickly get off her, the emptiness gaping in your cunt now, and sink to your knees. 

Agnes rips off the condom and her cock is weeping precum and it looks angry and painful with how red it is. 

She grabs your hair preemptively before you envelope her tip with your mouth and hollow out your cheeks. She lets out a strangled groan, both of you apparently past the point of caring if you get caught, and she throbs on your tongue. 

Agnes pumps her cock in hard and fast and you gag but relax your throat so she can use you however she wants. Her face contorts with pleasure; she’s close, you can see and feel it. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come in your mouth,” she gasps and you nod eagerly, sucking and licking and swallowing around her thick length that’s making your jaw ache. You feel tears gather in your eyes and you’re not sure how you’re going to hide your ruined state from the partygoers. “And you’re going to be a good girl and swallow all of it, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” you garble around her cock. 

Her hips jerk and the vein in her forehead throbs furiously and then she thrusts up one last time, stiffens, and lets out a slow groan, idly moving her hips while she pumps a load of cum into your mouth. It’s salty and hot and you make a muffled sound as more strands keep shooting out. 

You swallow all of it the best you can and Agnes nods approvingly. You can feel some of it leaking out of the corners of your mouth and you hope that none of it is dripping onto your shirt. 

“Fuck, you’re good,” Agnes says despite herself and you hold her cock in your mouth as she softens and then she slides out, fully limp. The praise settles warmly in your cunt.

She leans forward to wipe off the excess cum and holds out her finger to you. You suck her off it and she bites her lip at the feeling. Her spent cock gives a little twitch and you wonder if you’ll get her back in here before the party is over. 

You’re willing to bet that you will. 

Agnes stands up and you scooch back on your knees to give her some space. She tucks her cock back into her boxers and zips her pants before fixing the buckle. Her booted foot slides your jean shorts back over to you and she holds out a hand. 

You reluctantly take it and she pulls you up. You fix your underwear and then put your shorts back on while evaluating Agnes’s pants. There’s a few wet spots, but someone would have to look closely to see them with how dark the fabric is. 

Agnes looks at you and barks out a laugh. “You look well-fucked.” 

And of course, you smirk. 

When you both rejoin the party, no one notices that you came out of the sitting room together, looking significantly more disheveled than before. Thankfully, there was an incident with the dessert that your mom had to take care of, so she didn’t have the chance to send out a search group for you. 

Agnes crumples her plate up and slips the condom in between the folds and throws it away, all physical evidence of your tryst gone. 

You’re pulled into a group of relatives, who are all so excited for you and can’t wait to hear about what you’re going to do next. 

You feel someone’s eyes on you and you look across the room to find Agnes staring at you. You give her a wicked smirk and she raises her bottle of beer. 

A silent toast. 

It’s going to be a fun summer. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @500daysofmarissa @tobeawriter98 @hapuchika

[clesired]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 | 𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ! “can i request a george weasley x reader where she’s harry’s sister? set in the goblet of fire?” thank you to the lovely anon who requested this <3

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ! fun fact: no one loves harder than a weasley!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! no warnings, fluff, comfort ( reader big sister-ing harry ), gryffindor potter fem!reader, established relationship, second person pov, 1.7k words!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You watch as your little brother storms through the doors of the Great Hall, Hermione hot on his heels.

You want to move—but you’re torn between chasing after Harry and his angel of a best friend, or turning around and hexing his dimwitted doorknob of another.

Ever since Harry’s name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire, it’s like the whole school has turned on him. And no one worse than his very own best mate, Ron Weasley.

And of course when Ron is upset, everyone else has to be too.

He’d started a row with Harry in the middle of breakfast, and when he’d lost it on Hermione for stepping in and defending your brother—Harry had reached his limit and walked away. No doubt because he’d been seconds away from socking Ron a good one.

And you’re honestly not too far behind him, but your big sister instincts ultimately win out and you rush out of the hall in hopes of catching up to the younger Gryffindors before they’re out of sight.

Your head swivels from left to right as soon as you burst through the doors, but to no success. And with the amount of hidden passageways and corridors in this castle—you’re shite out of luck.

So caught up in looking for any clues as to which way they may have gone, you completely miss the arrival of another person.

“C’mon, sweetheart—there’s no use looking for them now.” George’s voice rings out gently as he steps in front of you. His large hand falls to your shoulder and squeezes, a familiar feeling that calms you.

You lean into his touch—seeking his comfort, but shake your head in denial. “I have to try, Georgie. He’s my brother.”

“He’ll be alright, sweetheart. Hermione’s got him.” He murmurs against your hairline as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead, his hand rubbing up and down your arm soothingly.

“You hardly even touched your plate before mini Potter was storming off. Come back and eat. Give him some time to cool off, yeah?” He coaxes gently and you let out a soft sigh.

“If I go back in there now, I’m afraid you’ll be walking out with one less brother.” You murmur quietly as you look up at him, earning a soft chuckle from your boyfriend.

“That’s okay, still got four of ‘em left.” He jokes quietly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Ginny’s beat you to it, darling.”

That makes you smile, and you pull away from him to peer at the doors—as if trying to see through them.

“She throw a Bat-Bogey yet?” You ask curiously, the smile on your face a testament to how upset you are with Ron right now.

Normally, you’re like two peas in a pod—mainly because Ron knows if he’s on your good side, George won’t prank him.

You know that’s the real reason he talks to you, but you don’t really care.

Ron can be particularly nasty if he’s on bad terms with a person—proven by this morning’s lovely show, and you’d rather not deal with that sort of nuisance; so you entertain him.

But all of that is out the window now. Ron has gone too far this time—accusing Harry of deliberately putting his name in the Goblet of Fire and cheating. As if he needs another threat to his life after all that he’s already been through. Ridiculous.

“Not yet, but her hand was looking pretty twitchy before I ran out.” George’s voice is laced in amusement now, as he comes up behind you and gently steers you toward the Great Hall.

You smile softly. “You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

George chuckles. “Comes with the job of being your boyfriend, sweetheart. One promise of Weasley-on-Weasley violence, check.”

“Well now that makes me feel bad.” You frown softly as you walk through the doors.

“Don’t. He had it coming.” He squeezes you gently before smirking. “And plus—Fred and I have been waiting for an excuse to prank ickle Ronniekins without making you mad.”

As the Gryffindor table comes back into view and you find that Ginny has in fact casted an absolute wicked Bat-Bogey Hex while you were gone, you smile.

George’s words ring in your ear as a thought occurs and you turn to look at him—momentarily ignoring the chaos the flying bats are causing among the students and staff.

“You know what? Consider him out of my protection. You and Fred can prank him as much as you want from now on.” You declare.

This will be your get back at Ron for being a little shite to Harry. Only you are allowed to be mean to your little brother and get away with it.

George positively beams down at you as he places a fat kiss against your forehead and then looks over to his twin.

“Hear that, Freddie!? My witch gave us the go ahead on ickle Ronniekins!” He shouts, and you can’t help but laugh as you watch Fred pump his fists in triumph.

As you settle down at the table beside George and watch the Professors struggle to help Ron fight off the bats, you scan the table until you find Colin Creevey.

“Colin!” You call out, gaining his attention. “Do me a favour and take a picture of this, yeah? I’m sure Harry’s gonna love it.”

The amused smile on your little brother’s face when he looks at the picture later that day in the common room proves you correct.

“Figured since you couldn’t be there to see it in all its glory, I could get you the next best thing.” You shrug casually, before smirking.

“Oh, and the twins are working on a few ideas to make Ron’s life a bit more…entertaining for the next few weeks.” You say lightly.

Harry looks up to where Fred and George are sitting at a table, quietly discussing as they both pour over a parchment.

After a moment, he turns to smile at you, all traces of anger due to Ron’s awful behaviour absent from his expression—at least for the time being, until Ron inevitably opens his mouth again.

“You’re a great big sister, you know that?” Harry says quietly, and you chuckle.

“Obviously. We Potters never do anything by halves.” You smirk.

“Except for boyfriends!” George suddenly calls out as he looks up from the table and winks at you. “Get it, sweetheart? Because you’re dating a twin?”

You shake your head in fond amusement as you look at your boyfriend. “I got it, Georgie.” You smile, holding back a laugh.

He blows you an air kiss and you catch it before blowing one back in return. He smirks, before you both refocus on your respective brothers.

Harry is already looking at you by the time your head turns, and his smile is smaller now—but also softer.

“George is good for you. I’m glad you have him.” He says quietly, and you feel your heart warm.

By the time your little brother had entered Hogwarts, you and George had already been dating—and with all the crazy shenanigans that’s been going on ever since Harry’s first year…you two never really had a conversation about how he felt about it.

You know he never had a problem with your relationship—he would’ve said something if he had; but to actually hear him verbally approve you and George fills you with a particular joy you only ever feel when it involves your boyfriend.

“I’m glad I have him too.” You murmur softly as you glance back at the aforementioned wizard.

“No one loves harder than a Weasley, you know.” You add on as you look back at your brother.

“No one hates harder than one too, apparently.” He grumbles, and just like that—his face is darkening all over again as he thinks of Ron.

You sigh softly and wrap your arm around his shoulder, smiling when he lets you. The Dursleys did their number on the both of you, but it was worse for Harry—with physical touch being one of the things he sometimes gets a little finicky about.

Both you and Hermione have been working overtime throughout the years to get him used to it, and you’re proud to say that the progress is there.

Harry’s first instinct is to usually shy away from touch when he’s angry, but rather than pull away this time—he leans into your warmth.

“Ron is…Ron, and I have no doubt that Hermione can and probably already has given you a more in depth explanation on why he’s being a prat—so I won’t even bother trying.” You smile gently, before continuing.

“But what I will tell you is that sometimes friends fight. And it’s messy and it sucks, but it also strengthens the bond between you.” You pat him consolingly.

“I’m not saying you two are gonna make up tomorrow—even I know Ron’s too much of a git for that. But you will eventually.”

“How can you know that, though?” Harry asks quietly.

You shrug gently. “Call it big sister instinct, or the fact that you two have been through more things together in the past three years than most people go through in a lifetime. Whatever it is, you two are going to be just fine.”

Harry relaxes at that, and as the twins join you on the couch—George pulling you into his lap, and Hermione comes bursting through the common room rambling about what she read in the library about the Triwizard Tournament rules—you look back at your brother.

He’s watching the twins—who are now rattling off ideas to Hermione about how to get him out of the tournament, and you can tell that he’s touched by their efforts.

You lean into Harry to give him one last word of big sister advice. “Ron’s poor behaviour is more than upsetting, but he’ll come around eventually. In the meantime—you’ve got a pretty solid group of friends right here.”

You gesture to Hermione and the twins, and hold up the picture of Ginny casting a Bat-Bogey at Ron.

It’s not lost on either of you that three of the four people you pointed out are Weasleys, and Harry smirks.

“No one loves harder than a Weasley, indeed.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! its actually criminal that i dont have my own george, smh. i hope you lovelies enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©clesired - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

xoxo,

mila! *: ･🐚༄🫧*ੈ✩

[pucksandpower]

Stroke of Midnight

Max Verstappen x Alonso!Reader

Summary: New Year’s Eve sees you crouched under a table, shoving grapes into your mouth as the seconds tick by in a desperate attempt to find love in 2025 … but it just so happens that love finds you a whole lot sooner than you expect

Note: Happy (almost) New Year! Wishing everyone a sweet and fulfilling 2025 ❤️

The club is too loud, too crowded, too much. Somewhere near the DJ booth, your father is probably breaking it down to the worst remix of an already bad pop song.

You don’t want to know what’s happening. You don’t even want to be here, except here is Monaco on New Year’s Eve, and it’s supposed to be magical. That’s what the internet said when you Googled it this morning. But so far, the magic feels more like sweat and regret.

And desperation. There’s no use pretending otherwise anymore.

Your legs cramp as you shift under the table, pulling your knees to your chest to avoid the sharp heel of a passing stranger. The white tablecloth is a flimsy barrier between you and the chaos outside — limbs, perfume, champagne flutes tipped at precarious angles.

You check your phone. Eleven fifty-seven.

“God,” you whisper to yourself, clutching the little plastic bag in your hand. “This is rock bottom.”

But is it? The thought stops you short. You could argue there’ve been worse moments.

There was your first boyfriend, for starters. The trust fund baby who somehow thought being wealthy made cheating excusable. “It’s not like I need you,” he had said when you caught him. Yeah, no kidding.

Then came the mechanic. Charming, sweet, and exactly what you thought you needed — until you overheard him laughing with his friends about how he only asked you out on a bet. The details are blurry now, but the humiliation is crystal clear.

And, of course, the summer of horror: introducing your third boyfriend to your dad, only to walk in on him rummaging through your father’s underwear drawer. “I just wanted to see what greatness looks like,” he had explained with a sheepish grin, clutching a pair of Fernando Alonso’s boxer briefs like they were relics from the Vatican.

Three strikes. You’re out.

“Not this year,” you mutter, shaking your head. This year, you’re taking things into your own hands.

You dig into the bag, spilling green grapes into your lap. Twelve of them. One for each second before midnight, each representing a wish for the year ahead. You glance at the clock again — eleven fifty-eight now. Two minutes to go.

Someone shifts the table above you, and you nearly choke on your gasp. The tablecloth lifts slightly, and a pair of curious eyes meet yours.

“What the hell?”

It’s a man — dark-haired, stubble-jawed, vaguely familiar, though everyone in Monaco looks like they could be a movie star. He’s crouched, trying to see past the shadows. You stare back, frozen.

“Are you hiding?” He asks, tilting his head. His accent is clipped and Dutch, which somehow makes this all worse.

“Uh — no,” you stammer, holding up a grape like it’s evidence in court. “I’m … I’m doing something. It’s a tradition.”

“Under a table?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause. He blinks at you, then ducks his head fully under the tablecloth. “Alright, I’ll bite. What kind of tradition involves grapes and hiding under furniture?”

“It’s Spanish.” You’re not sure why you feel defensive, but you do. “You eat twelve grapes, one for each second before midnight, for good luck in the new year.”

“Good luck.” He glances pointedly at the table legs surrounding you. “How’s that working out?”

You scowl. “It’s not midnight yet.”

He snorts. “Fair enough. Carry on.” He starts to retreat, but something stops him. “Wait. Why under the table?”

“Because …” You hesitate, not wanting to explain that part of the superstition involves being in a confined space to focus your intentions. It sounds ridiculous out loud, even to you. “Because it’s quieter down here.”

“Right.” His tone is skeptical, but mercifully, he leaves it at that. “Good luck, grape girl.” He’s gone before you can respond.

The clock ticks closer to midnight. Eleven fifty-nine. You clutch the grapes tighter, willing yourself to focus.

“Okay,” you whisper, heart pounding. “This is it. Love. Luck. Anything but whatever the hell the last three years were.”

You pop the first grape into your mouth as the countdown begins, the music fading just enough for the crowd to yell, Twelve!

It’s sour, but you swallow it quickly, reaching for the next. Eleven!

The third grape is sweeter. Ten!

Someone bumps the table above you, but you keep going. Nine!

The fifth grape tastes like possibility. Eight!

You’re halfway through the sixth when the tablecloth lifts again.

“Sorry, but I just-” It’s him again, the Dutch guy. He ducks under the table fully this time, looking half-apologetic, half-curious. “I couldn’t help it. What happens if you don’t finish in time?”

You glare at him, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk. “Whuh ah oo doin’?”

“Trying to understand the stakes here,” he says, crouching beside you. “It’s fascinating.”

“Go ‘way!” You manage, scrambling for the eighth grape. Five!

“Is this, like, a universal Spanish thing? Or just your family?”

You shove the ninth grape in your mouth, ignoring him. Four!

“You’re really committed,” he notes, watching you chew furiously. “I respect that.”

You jab a finger toward the edge of the tablecloth, signaling him to leave.

“Alright, alright,” he says, hands up in surrender. “Good luck, truly. I hope it works.”

He disappears just as the countdown hits Three!

The eleventh grape is a struggle, but you manage. Two!

You grab the last one, cramming it in just as the crowd roars, One! Happy New Year!

It’s chaos — cheering, champagne popping, music surging back to full volume. You sit there under the table, sticky with grape juice and feeling utterly ridiculous.

“Happy New Year to me,” you mutter, wiping your hands on your dress.

Above you, the tablecloth shifts again.

“I had a feeling you’d make it,” the Dutch guy says, grinning. He’s holding two glasses of champagne. “Figured you might need this.”

You stare at him, utterly baffled. “Do you always bother strangers under tables?”

“Only the ones who look like they’re about to choke on tradition.”

You take the glass hesitantly, unsure whether to thank him or tell him to leave you alone. He raises his own in a toast.

“To luck,” he says simply, his smile oddly sincere.

You sigh, clinking your glass against his. “To luck.”

And for the first time in years, you think it might actually work.

***

The Dutch guy, whose name you still don’t know, doesn’t leave. You expect him to. After all, who bothers someone under a table, offers them champagne, and then sticks around? But here he is, leaning casually against the table, like this is his New Year’s Eve tradition too.

“So,” he says, studying you over the rim of his glass, “how do you know it worked?”

“What worked?”

“The grapes. Your luck in love.”

“It’s not instant,” you reply dryly. “I don’t think someone’s going to walk up and propose to me tonight.”

“Shame,” he says, smirking. “Would’ve been a great story.”

You roll your eyes, standing up carefully to avoid smacking your head on the table. The club is still throbbing with music, the crowd a drunken sea of sequins and suits. Your father is nowhere to be seen, probably charming half the room with drunken stories from his glory days.

The Dutch guy follows you, holding his champagne like it’s an extension of himself.

“So, do I get a name?” He asks.

“Do I get a name?” You counter.

He laughs, setting his glass on a passing waiter’s tray. “Martin. Martin Garrix.”

It clicks immediately. The Martin Garrix. You’ve seen him on magazine covers, his face plastered on Spotify playlists, his name on Coachella lineups.

“Oh,” you say, a little surprised. “You’re that Martin Garrix.”

“Depends,” he says with a grin. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

He laughs again, an easy sound that somehow cuts through the noise around you.

“And you are?”

You hesitate. The last thing you want is to be recognized as Fernando Alonso’s daughter tonight. “Just … me,” you say, shrugging.

“Alright, Just Me,” he teases. “What’s the plan now? Back to the dance floor?”

“I don’t really have a plan.” You glance toward the bar, but it’s swamped. The thought of pushing through that crowd makes your skin crawl.

Martin tilts his head, considering you. “You know,” he says after a moment, “I’ve got to play a set in a bit. But before that, I could introduce you to someone.”

Your brow furrows. “Introduce me?”

“Yeah. A friend of mine. You’ll like him.”

You cross your arms. “Why do I feel like you’re trying to get rid of me?”

“Not at all,” he says, grinning. “But if you’re looking for luck, he’s got plenty of it.”

Before you can argue, he’s already motioning for you to follow him.

Martin weaves through the crowd effortlessly, stopping just long enough to charm security guards and exchange handshakes with people who look vaguely important. You trail behind, clutching your champagne glass like a lifeline.

“VIP,” he explains over his shoulder, as if that answers anything.

“I was in VIP,” you mutter. “Then I left to crawl under a table.”

“Your loss,” he quips.

The VIP section is smaller than you remember, cordoned off with velvet ropes and guarded by men in black suits. Martin flashes a wristband, and the guard steps aside.

You’re led to a booth tucked in the farthest corner, hidden from most of the chaos. Someone is slouched in the corner seat, a drink dangling from his fingers. His head tilts up when Martin approaches, and your stomach flips.

Max Verstappen.

You stop dead in your tracks, heat rushing to your face. Of all the people — of course it’s him.

Max looks at you, then at Martin, then back at you. His brow furrows in confusion, his normally sharp blue eyes a little unfocused.

“Martin,” he says, voice thick with alcohol, “who’s this?”

Martin grins, gesturing toward you. “Stray kitten I found under a table. Thought you might want company.”

You gape at him. “I am not a stray kitten.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Martin says, completely unbothered.

Max blinks, then sets his drink on the table. “Wait. I know you.”

“Yeah,” you say quickly, “I know you too.”

It’s a terrible response, but you’re too flustered to think straight. Max Verstappen, reigning Formula 1 world champion, is sitting in front of you, looking unfairly handsome even in his clearly drunk state.

Martin claps Max on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t scare her off, mate.”

“Wait, what-” You start to protest, but Martin is already disappearing into the crowd.

You’re left standing there awkwardly, clutching your glass like it’s a shield. Max watches you, his expression softening into something unreadable.

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the empty seat beside him.

You hesitate, then slide into the booth, leaving just enough space between you that it doesn’t feel too intimate.

“So,” he says, leaning back. “What’s this about a table?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “It’s a Spanish tradition. You eat twelve grapes at midnight for good luck in the new year. I was under the table to-”

“Focus your intentions,” he finishes, surprising you.

Your eyes widen. “How do you know that?”

“Carlos told me about it once back when we were teammates,” he says with a small smile. “He thought it was funny.”

You relax slightly. “Well, it’s not funny. It’s practical.”

“Under a table, though?” His smile widens.

“It’s quieter!”

He laughs, and it’s the kind of laugh that makes your heart twist in your chest. You’ve always found Max intimidating — cool, calm, untouchable. But right now, with his hair slightly messy and his guard down, he seems … human.

“You’re drunk,” you blurt out.

He nods, unabashed. “A little.”

“A lot,” you correct.

“Fair.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But what about you? You’re here on New Year’s Night, eating grapes under tables. What’s that about?”

You hesitate, then shrug. “Bad luck. Bad … everything, really. I figured it couldn’t hurt.”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze steady despite the alcohol. “Bad everything?”

“Love life,” you admit, looking away. “It’s been a disaster.”

“Join the club,” he mutters, taking a sip of his drink.

You glance at him, surprised. “What do you mean? You’re-” You stop yourself, realizing how stupid it sounds. He’s Max Verstappen. He could have anyone.

“Exactly,” he says, reading your expression. “And that’s the problem. No one takes me seriously. They just see the driver, the fame, the money.”

You soften. “That sounds lonely.”

“It is.”

There’s a beat of silence, heavy with unspoken words.

“You know,” he says finally, his voice quieter now, “I always wondered what it’d be like to talk to you.”

Your breath catches. “What?”

“In the paddock. You’re always with your dad, or with someone else. I never knew how to …” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” you say quickly, surprising yourself. “I always wondered too.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a moment, the noise of the club fades into the background.

“Yeah?” He asks softly.

You nod, suddenly shy. “Yeah.”

His lips twitch into a small smile. “Maybe Martin was right.”

“About what?”

“Luck.”

You laugh, the sound light and unexpected. “Maybe.”

He leans back, the tension in his shoulders easing. “So, what now? Are you going to wait for the grapes to work, or are we going to make our own luck?”

You raise an eyebrow. “And how do we do that?”

“Well,” he says, a playful glint in his eye, “we could start by getting out of here.”

“And go where?”

“Anywhere,” he says, standing up and holding out his hand.

You stare at his hand, then take it, letting him pull you to your feet.

“Alright,” you say, your heart pounding. “Let’s see where this luck takes us.”

***

The valet pulls up with the car, and it’s … a Ferrari Monza SP2. Of course it is. Sleek, black, and absurdly expensive, it looks like something out of a Bond movie. The kind of car you don’t just drive; you wear it, command it.

Max grins at you as the valet hands him the keys, his drunken sway almost imperceptible — almost. He heads straight for the driver’s side, but you grab his arm before he can open the door.

“Are you serious?” You ask, wide-eyed.

“What?” His expression is equal parts innocence and mischief.

“You’ve been drinking.”

He glances at the keys in his hand, then back at you, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “I’ve had worse nights.”

“Max,” you say firmly, your voice cutting through the noise of passing cars and drunken revelers spilling out onto the Monaco streets. “You’re not driving.”

He raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. “So, what? You’re offering?”

You blink, caught off guard. “I-I didn’t mean-”

But he’s already opening the driver’s side door and stepping aside, holding it open for you with a dramatic flourish. “Your chariot awaits, madam.”

Your first instinct is to argue, to remind him that this is his car and you’re not exactly in the habit of taking over Ferraris from Formula 1 champions unless they’re your father. But the glint in his eye dares you to say yes.

“Fine,” you mutter, slipping past him and sliding into the driver’s seat.

The leather feels luxurious under your fingers, the steering wheel practically begging to be gripped. You know Ferraris — you grew up around them, after all — but this one feels different. It feels … alive.

Max climbs into the passenger seat with surprising agility for someone who’s had more than a few drinks. He looks entirely too pleased with himself, leaning back like he owns not just the car, but the world.

“Where to?” You ask, trying to sound nonchalant as you adjust the seat and mirrors.

He shrugs, a lazy smile on his face. “Surprise me.”

The car roars to life under your hands, the engine purring with a deep, satisfying growl. You pull out of the valet lane and into the Monaco streets, the city lights sparkling like they’ve been sprinkled with diamonds.

You have no plan, no destination in mind. So, you let the roads guide you. Past the harbor, where yachts bob gently against their moorings, and out onto the open road leading away from Monaco.

Max watches you drive, his gaze heavy but not uncomfortable. “You’re good at this,” he says, his voice cutting through the low hum of the engine.

You glance at him, one hand on the wheel. “I should be. My dad made sure I could handle cars before I could even ride a bike.”

He chuckles. “Sounds about right.”

The road begins to curve as you head toward Nice, the city’s glow fading behind you. The winding asphalt hugs the coastline, offering glimpses of the dark sea shimmering under the moonlight.

Max leans his head back against the seat, his eyes half-closed. “This is nice,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

You smile, focusing on the road. “It is.”

The stretch of beach comes out of nowhere, a small, deserted slice of sand tucked between rocky cliffs. You might have driven past it without a second thought, but Max suddenly sits up, pointing wildly.

“Stop!” He yells.

You react instinctively, slamming on the brakes. The tires screech against the pavement, and the car comes to a jarring halt.

“Jesus, Max!” You exclaim, turning to glare at him. “What is wrong with you?”

He’s already unbuckling his seatbelt, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “We’re going skinny dipping.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” He grins like a kid who just discovered a hidden jar of candy. “Come on. The water’s right there.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” He pushes open the door and climbs out, gesturing for you to follow. “It’s New Year’s. Perfect time to do something stupid.”

“Skinny dipping isn’t just stupid, Max. It’s-” You gesture vaguely, your cheeks heating. “It’s ridiculous.”

He leans down, resting his arms on the open car door. “Exactly. That’s the point. Live a little.”

You hesitate, glancing toward the beach. The moonlight glints off the waves, the sound of the surf mingling with the gentle rustle of wind through the grass. There’s no one else around.

“Max,” you start, your voice uncertain.

He tilts his head, his expression softening. “Hey. It’s just water. I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stalling.” He steps back, holding his arms out as if to say, what’s the worst that could happen?

You sigh, unbuckling your seatbelt. “If I freeze to death, I’m haunting you.”

“Deal.”

The sand is cool under your feet as you follow Max toward the water. He’s already pulled off his shirt and pants, tossing them carelessly onto the beach. The moonlight catches on his skin, highlighting the lean muscles of his back.

You hesitate at the water’s edge, the waves lapping at your toes.

“This is crazy,” you mutter, crossing your arms.

“That’s the point,” Max calls over his shoulder, already wading into the surf.

You bite your lip, glancing around one last time to make sure you’re alone. Then, with a deep breath, you pull off your dress, leaving it in a heap beside Max’s clothes.

The water is shockingly cold as you step in, but it’s not unbearable. You wade in deeper, the waves swirling around your waist, then your chest.

Max is already floating on his back a few meters ahead, his arms stretched out like he’s completely at peace.

“See?” He says, his voice carrying over the water. “Not so bad.”

You tread water, glaring at him. “I hate that you’re right.”

He laughs, the sound echoing across the beach. “You’ll get used to it.”

For a while, neither of you says anything. The water is calm, the world around you eerily quiet except for the soft crash of waves.

“This is nice,” you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Told you,” he says, tilting his head to look at you. His expression is softer now, less playful. “Thanks for indulging me.”

You shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks for trusting me with your car.”

He grins. “I figured it was in good hands.”

The silence stretches between you again, but it’s not uncomfortable. It feels … easy. Like the two of you have always been here, floating in the moonlit water, sharing something unspoken.

“I’ve always liked you,” Max says suddenly, his voice quiet but firm.

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat. “What?”

He turns onto his side, treading water to face you. “I mean it. For years, I’ve … I don’t know. I never thought you’d feel the same, so I didn’t say anything. But tonight …” He trails off, shaking his head. “I don’t know. It felt like the right time.”

Your throat tightens, your mind racing. You’ve always thought Max was out of your league, untouchable. But here he is, confessing in the most Max way possible — honest, straightforward, no games.

“I’ve always liked you too,” you admit, your voice trembling.

His eyes widen, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He laughs, the sound full of relief and joy. “Well, I guess the grapes worked after all.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Never,” he says, his voice soft.

It feels like a promise.

***

When you and Max finally stumble out of the water, shivering and laughing, you head straight to the spot where you’d left your clothes. Only, when you get there, the beach doesn’t look quite the same.

Your dress isn’t where you left it.

“Oh no,” you mutter, scanning the dark sand.

“What?” Max asks, standing next to you, his arms crossed against the cold.

“My clothes.” You point at the waterline, which has crept much closer during your impromptu swim. “The waves must’ve gotten to them.”

Max glances down and then back at you with a smirk. “You mean those clothes?”

You follow his gaze to a small, soggy heap half-buried in the sand.

“Oh, for the love of-” You dart toward them, scooping up your dress and underwear, which are completely soaked and dripping.

Max doesn’t even try to suppress his laugh. “Well, this is awkward.”

“Don’t,” you warn, glaring at him.

“I didn’t say anything!” He holds up his hands defensively, still grinning.

You groan, holding up your dress, which now feels about ten pounds heavier with seawater. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t wear this.”

Max tilts his head, considering. “Guess you’ll have to drive back naked.”

“Max!”

“Kidding, kidding!” He steps closer, tugging his own damp shirt over his head and holding it out to you. “Here. Problem solved.”

You hesitate, eyeing the shirt. “What about you?”

“I’ll live,” he says with a shrug, clearly unbothered by the chilly night air. “Take it.”

You sigh, knowing you don’t have much of a choice. “Fine. Turn around.”

Max smirks but obeys, turning his back to you.

You quickly pull the oversized shirt over your head, the fabric still warm from his body. It smells like him, too — a mix of salt, sweat, and something distinctly Max. You tug it down as far as it will go, grateful that it’s long enough to cover everything important.

“Okay,” you say.

Max turns back around, and his grin is immediate and wide. “Wow.”

“What?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“You look good in my clothes,” he says, his voice dropping slightly.

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn at the way he’s looking at you, his gaze lingering a little too long. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re beautiful,” he counters, his tone light but earnest.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you shake your head, muttering, “Let’s just go.”

Max doesn’t argue, but his grin lingers as the two of you make your way back to the car.

“Where are we going?” Max asks as you slide back into the driver’s seat, the leather cool against your bare thighs.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” you say, adjusting the mirrors again.

He shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “We could go back to my place.”

You snort. “Why does that sound like the setup to a bad pickup line?”

“Hey,” he protests, mock-offended. “I’m a gentleman.”

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you, though?”

“Sometimes,” he says, grinning. “Depends on the company.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Well, as much as I’d love to see your undoubtedly bachelor-esque apartment, I have a better idea.”

“Oh?”

“My dad’s place,” you say, pulling onto the road.

Max raises an eyebrow. “Fernando’s?”

“He’s not there,” you assure him quickly. “He’s probably still at the club, or passed out somewhere. And I happen to know he stocked the apartment with some really good champagne.”

Max hums, considering. “Fancy champagne, empty apartment … I like the sound of this.”

You smile, turning onto the highway. “I thought you might.”

The drive back to Monaco feels different this time. The adrenaline from the beach has faded, replaced by a quiet comfort. Max sits beside you, his head tilted back against the seat, humming softly to himself.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “You’re not falling asleep, are you?”

He shakes his head, reaching for the radio. “Nope. Just thinking.”

“Dangerous,” you tease.

He laughs, fiddling with the dial until he lands on a station playing 80s hits. The familiar opening chords of Take On Me by A-ha fill the car, and Max immediately starts singing along.

“Talking away,” he belts out, completely off-key but fully committed.

You can’t help but laugh. “Oh my God, Max.”

“What?” He says, grinning at you. “You don’t like my singing?”

“I’m just saying, maybe stick to driving cars.”

He clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch. That’s harsh.”

The chorus kicks in, and Max leans closer to you, practically shouting the lyrics. “I’ll be gone, in a day or twoooooo!”

You’re laughing so hard you can barely keep your hands steady on the wheel. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he says, winking.

You roll your eyes, but the truth is, you kind of do. There’s something about the way Max is so unapologetically himself, even when he’s being completely ridiculous. It’s endearing in a way you didn’t expect.

The next song comes on — Africa by Toto (not that Toto, the other one) — and Max doesn’t miss a beat, launching into another impromptu performance.

“I bless the rains down in AfricAAAA!”

“Please stop,” you beg, though your cheeks hurt from smiling.

“Never,” he says, grinning at you like this is the most fun he’s had in ages.

And as the lights of Monaco come back into view, you realize you’ve never felt more at ease with someone. Max’s off-tune singing, the salty breeze still clinging to your hair, and the warmth of his shirt against your skin — it all feels like something out of a dream.

“Hey,” Max says suddenly, his voice softer now.

“Yeah?” You glance at him, and for once, he’s not smiling. His expression is thoughtful, almost serious.

“I’m glad it was you tonight,” he says simply.

Your heart skips a beat, but you manage to keep your voice steady. “Me too.”

He turns back to the radio, cranking up the volume as another song starts. And as you drive toward the city, the two of you singing along to the music, it feels like the beginning of something you’re not quite ready to name — but it feels right all the same.

***

The apartment is just as you left it — sleek, minimalist, and undoubtedly your father’s. Clean lines, muted colors, and an expansive view of Monaco’s twinkling lights spilling in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Max whistles low as he steps inside, running a hand through his damp hair. “Your dad has good taste.”

You scoff, kicking off your shoes by the door. “He has a good interior designer. There’s a difference.”

Max chuckles, padding after you as you head straight for the kitchen. “Where’s this fancy champagne you promised?”

You open the fridge, scanning its contents. Sure enough, five bottles of Dom Pérignon are lined up like soldiers, condensation clinging to their dark glass.

“Here,” you say, pulling one out and setting it on the marble countertop. “But don’t complain if it ruins you for whatever it is that Formula 1 uses on podiums these days.”

Max grabs two flutes from the cabinet you pointed to and shrugs. “I think I’ll survive.”

You pop the cork with a satisfying pop, pouring the sparkling liquid into the glasses he offers.

“To questionable life choices,” Max says, raising his glass.

You laugh, clinking yours against his. “To new beginnings.”

The first sip is crisp and effervescent, the kind of taste that makes you close your eyes for a second to savor it. Max seems equally impressed, letting out a low hum of approval.

“You weren’t kidding,” he says, taking another sip. “This is good.”

“Only the best for Fernando Alonso,” you say, rolling your eyes.

The two of you settle on the couch, the city lights casting a soft glow over the room. Conversation flows easily, the champagne loosening whatever walls you might have had left after the events of the night.

By the second bottle, you’re both leaning into each other, laughing at stories you’ve never told anyone else.

“So, wait,” Max says, his voice slightly slurred. “You actually punched him?”

“I didn’t punch him,” you correct, giggling. “I just … shoved him. Hard. With my fist.”

Max snorts. “That’s literally a punch.”

“Semantics.” You wave him off, taking another sip of champagne. “He deserved it.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Max says, shaking his head with a grin.

By the time you open the third bottle, everything is a blur of laughter, shared glances, and a warmth that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

You’re halfway through another story when Max interrupts, leaning closer. “You’ve got …” He gestures vaguely at your face.

“What?” You ask, frowning.

“Hold on.” He reaches out, brushing the corner of your mouth with his thumb. The touch is light, almost hesitant, but it sends a jolt of electricity through you.

“There,” he says softly, his thumb lingering a second too long before he pulls back.

The room feels suddenly smaller, quieter. Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

Then, without thinking, you lean in.

The kiss is messy, fueled by champagne and years of unspoken tension. Max’s lips are soft but insistent, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer.

You barely register the sound of your glass clattering onto the coffee table as you climb onto his lap, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs against your lips, his breath warm and ragged.

You nod, your hands already tugging at the waistband of his jeans. “More than okay.”

His hands slide under the shirt you’re wearing — his shirt — his palms warm against your skin. The touch makes you shiver, but you can’t tell if it’s from the cold or something else entirely.

“You look so good in this,” he whispers, his lips trailing down your neck.

“Stop talking,” you mutter, pulling him back up for another kiss.

He laughs softly but obeys, his hands roaming freely now, exploring every curve like he’s trying to memorize you.

You lose track of time, of where you end and he begins. The champagne bubbles in your veins, making everything feel hazy and light.

Somehow, you both end up half-naked on the leather sectional, your legs tangled together. Max’s hands stay under the shirt, resting against your waist like he’s anchoring himself to you.

Your hand drifts lower, brushing against the waistband of his briefs. He lets out a low groan, his head falling back against the couch.

“Careful,” he says, his voice thick with a mix of amusement and warning.

You smirk, leaning down to press a kiss to his jaw. “You’re the one who said to live a little.”

He laughs, pulling you back down into another kiss.

Eventually, exhaustion gets the better of both of you. The kisses slow, turning softer, lazier, until you’re both too tired to do anything but collapse against each other.

Max’s arms wrap around you, his body warm and solid beneath you.

“Don’t let me fall asleep like this,” you mumble, your voice muffled against his chest.

“Too late,” he replies, his voice already heavy with sleep.

And as your eyes flutter closed, you can’t help but think that this might be the best questionable life choice you’ve ever made.

***

The first hint of dawn spills into the apartment, a soft, golden hue creeping through the glass walls. The city below comes to life slowly, but up here, in the quiet sanctuary of your father’s apartment, everything feels frozen in time.

You’re vaguely aware of the early morning light as you stir, still half-asleep, tangled in the warmth of Max’s arms. His hands are still under the shirt you’re wearing — his shirt — resting against your bare waist. Your head rests on his chest, his steady heartbeat like a metronome beneath your ear.

You should feel embarrassed, maybe even regretful. Instead, you feel … safe. Content.

The sound of keys jingling outside the door doesn’t register immediately.

Then, the lock turns, and the door creaks open.

“Ah, mierda.”

The low curse comes from the entryway. The unmistakable, groggy voice of your father.

You jolt upright, your blood turning ice-cold as the realization sinks in.

Max stirs beside you, groaning softly. “What’s going on?”

You don’t have time to answer before Fernando appears in the living room doorway, his hair disheveled, his jacket slung over one shoulder, and the beginnings of a hangover etched across his face.

His gaze lands on the two of you — your bare legs, Max’s shirt haphazardly covering you, and the obvious fact that both your pants are nowhere to be seen.

There’s a long, excruciating silence.

“Papá,” you manage to squeak, your voice higher than you intended.

Fernando blinks once, twice. Then his eyes narrow. “What is this?”

Max freezes, his brain clearly struggling to catch up. “Uh …”

You scramble for words, any words, but your mind is a complete blank.

Fernando steps closer, his voice sharp. “You. Verstappen. What are you doing here?”

Max raises a hand, as though he’s trying to surrender. “I can explain-”

“Oh, you better,” Fernando interrupts, his tone dark. “Because from where I’m standing, this looks like …” He gestures vaguely at the two of you, his expression a mix of disbelief and fury. “… a very bad decision.”

You hastily pull a throw pillow over your lap, trying to muster some semblance of dignity. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Fernando arches a brow. “It looks like I came home to find my daughter and Max Verstappen half-naked on my couch.”

“Okay, so maybe it’s a little what it looks like,” you admit, cringing.

Max finally seems to snap out of his stupor. He sits up, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Listen, Fernando, I-”

“You don’t get to call me Fernando,” your father snaps. “Not right now.”

“Okay,” Max backtracks quickly, holding up his hands. “Look, this isn’t her fault. It’s on me.”

You turn to him, frowning. “Max-”

“No, it’s true,” he continues, his voice steady despite the situation. “I shouldn’t have let things get … out of hand.”

Fernando crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing further. “Out of hand?”

“I mean-” Max stumbles over his words, clearly realizing he’s digging himself deeper. “It’s not like we planned for this to happen.”

Fernando’s gaze flicks to you, his expression unreadable. “Is that true?”

You open your mouth, then close it, your cheeks burning. “Well … yes. Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“It’s complicated!” You blurt out, throwing your hands up in frustration.

Fernando pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that you’re pretty sure isn’t complimentary.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he says after a moment, his voice tight. “You-” He points at Max. “Why are you even here?”

“We were … celebrating,” Max says hesitantly.

“Celebrating,” Fernando repeats flatly. “By taking your pants off on my couch?”

“Okay, that part was-” Max starts, but you cut him off.

“Can we not talk about pants right now?” You plead, your face hot enough to fry an egg.

Fernando gives you a look that could melt steel. “No, we’re absolutely going to talk about it. What were you thinking?”

“Maybe we weren’t thinking,” you admit quietly, avoiding his gaze.

“That much is obvious,” he mutters.

“Papá, please,” you say, your voice softening. “It’s not like we meant to disrespect you or your home.”

Fernando sighs, the anger in his expression giving way to something else — disappointment. It stings more than you care to admit.

Max shifts uncomfortably beside you, breaking the silence. “I know this looks bad-”

“It is bad,” Fernando interrupts. “Do you have any idea what this could do to your reputation? To hers?”

Max frowns, his jaw tightening. “With all due respect, I care more about her than my reputation.”

Your breath catches at his words, but Fernando doesn’t seem impressed.

“Convenient to say that now,” he mutters, crossing his arms again.

Max’s expression hardens. “It’s the truth.”

The tension in the room is suffocating, the silence stretching out until you can’t take it anymore.

“Can we just … take a minute?” You say, looking between them. “Please?”

Fernando stares at you for a long moment, his expression softening just a fraction. “Fine. One minute.”

He turns on his heel, muttering something under his breath yet again as he storms toward the kitchen.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, you let out a shaky breath, turning to Max.

“This is a disaster,” you whisper.

Max reaches for your hand, his touch grounding. “We’ll figure it out.”

“How?” You ask, your voice tinged with panic.

He squeezes your hand gently. “Together.”

Despite everything, his confidence is reassuring. You take another deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Together.”

Fernando’s voice cuts through the moment from the kitchen. “You better be decent when I come back.”

Max lets out a low chuckle, and you can’t help but smile despite the situation.

“Let’s just survive the next five minutes,” you murmur, standing to pull on your still-damp jeans.

Max grins up at you, his eyes warm. “I like our odds.”

You glance toward the kitchen, where your father is undoubtedly fuming, and pray he’s right.

***

The tension in the room is suffocating as your father storms back from the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand and a sharp glare aimed squarely at Max. You sit on the edge of the couch, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Max, to his credit, doesn’t flinch under the weight of Fernando’s gaze, though his posture is tense, shoulders squared like he’s bracing for impact.

Fernando takes a long sip of his coffee before setting the cup down on the counter with a decisive clink. “Alright,” he says, folding his arms across his chest. “Let’s talk.”

Max leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “I-”

Fernando holds up a hand, cutting him off. “No. I’ll talk first. You’ll listen.”

Max glances at you briefly, then nods. “Okay.”

Your father steps closer, his eyes narrowing. “So. Verstappen. Tell me — were you trying to sleep with my daughter under my own roof?”

The bluntness of the question makes you choke on air. “Papá!”

“Stay out of this,” Fernando says sharply, not even sparing you a glance. His eyes are locked on Max, who blinks in surprise before straightening in his seat.

“No!” Max says quickly, his voice firm. “Of course not.”

Fernando tilts his head, his lips twitching as though he’s fighting back a smirk. “Oh, so she’s not attractive enough for you to want to sleep with?”

“What?” You gasp, standing up. “What is wrong with you?”

“Sit down,” Fernando says over his shoulder, though there’s an unmistakable gleam of amusement in his eyes.

Max looks like he’s been thrown into the deep end of a pool without warning. “That’s not — what? No!”

Fernando raises an eyebrow. “No, she’s not attractive, or no, you weren’t trying to sleep with her?”

Max glares at him, his jaw tightening. “You’re twisting my words.”

“Am I?” Fernando says, taking another slow sip of his coffee.

“Yes!” Max snaps, then seems to catch himself. He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I wasn’t trying to disrespect you or your home. I swear.”

Fernando steps closer, looming over Max. “You swear, huh?”

“Yes,” Max says firmly.

“And yet,” Fernando says, gesturing at the couch with a dramatic wave of his hand, “I walked in on this. My daughter, half-naked, tangled up with you.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my god, stop.”

Fernando ignores you. “Explain that, Verstappen.”

Max meets his gaze, unflinching. “I care about her. That’s the truth.”

Fernando’s eyebrows lift slightly, but he doesn’t respond immediately. He paces a few steps, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup as though mulling over his next move.

Finally, he stops, turning back to Max. “You care about her,” he repeats, his tone skeptical.

“Yes,” Max says, his voice unwavering.

Fernando tilts his head again, studying Max like he’s a puzzle he’s trying to solve. “Alright. Let’s test that.”

Max frowns. “Test what?”

“Your commitment,” Fernando says simply.

You groan again, standing up. “Papá, this isn’t some kind of-”

“Sit,” Fernando says, pointing at the couch.

“Stop telling me to sit!” You snap, but you drop back down anyway, crossing your arms over your chest.

Fernando turns back to Max, a small, mischievous smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “So. Verstappen. If you care about her, you won’t mind answering a few questions.”

Max hesitates but nods. “Alright.”

Fernando sets his coffee cup down again, cracking his knuckles for dramatic effect. “First question. Do you even know her middle name?”

Max’s eyes flick to you, then back to Fernando. “Of course I do. It’s-” He pauses, frowning. “Wait. Do you have one?”

Fernando lets out a bark of laughter. “Strike one.”

You roll your eyes. “Max, I don’t have a middle name. Don’t listen to him.”

Max glares at Fernando. “That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Fernando says with a shrug. “Next question. What’s her favorite color?”

Max’s frown deepens. “Pink?”

Fernando shakes his head. “Wrong.”

“Wrong?” Max turns to you. “It’s not pink?”

“It’s not pink,” you confirm, biting back a smile.

Fernando smirks. “Strike two.”

Max leans back, exhaling slowly. “Alright. What is it, then?”

Fernando opens his mouth, but you cut him off. “It’s burgundy.”

“Burgundy,” Max repeats, nodding to himself. “Got it.”

“Too late,” Fernando says, waving him off. “You’re already failing.”

“Papá,” you say, your tone a warning.

Fernando raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. One last question.”

Max leans forward again, his expression determined. “Go ahead.”

Fernando’s smirk returns. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

The question hangs in the air like a loaded gun.

Max doesn’t flinch. He meets Fernando’s gaze head-on and says, “I don’t know yet.”

You blink in surprise, as does your father.

Max continues, his voice steady. “But I know I want to figure it out. I care about her, and I want to spend more time with her. That’s all I can say right now.”

Fernando studies him for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Then, to your astonishment, he nods. “Fair enough.”

“Fair enough?” You echo, staring at him in disbelief.

Fernando shrugs, picking up his coffee cup again. “At least he’s honest.”

Max lets out a breath he probably didn’t realize he was holding, and you shake your head, still trying to process what just happened.

“Just one thing,” Fernando adds, turning back to Max with a pointed look.

“What’s that?” Max asks cautiously.

Fernando leans in slightly, his voice low but firm. “If you hurt her, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Max doesn’t hesitate. “Understood.”

Fernando nods once, then steps back, his demeanor relaxing slightly. “Good. Now, get dressed. Both of you.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands again. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“Could’ve been worse,” Max says, nudging you gently.

You glare at him, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips despite everything.

Fernando smirks, heading toward his bedroom. “You’ve got ten minutes before I come back with more questions.”

“Papá!” You call after him, but he’s already gone.

Max chuckles softly, leaning back on the couch. “That went well, all things considered.”

You stare at him, incredulous. “You think that went well?”

He grins, shrugging. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you like me anyway,” he says, his grin widening.

You roll your eyes, but you don’t argue.

***

One Year Later

The club is just as loud and chaotic as it was a year ago, but it feels different this time. Maybe it’s the crowd, maybe it’s the glow of the New Year’s lights, or maybe it’s the fact that Max’s hand hasn’t left yours all night.

You’re back where it all started, tucked into the VIP section of the Monaco club where you had once crouched under a table eating grapes in a last-ditch attempt to find love. That night had been nothing short of chaotic, but looking back, it had been the beginning of something you wouldn’t trade for the world.

“Is it how you remembered it?” Max asks, leaning in close to be heard over the music.

You glance around at the glittering lights and pulsing crowd, then back at him. “It’s definitely less embarrassing this time around.”

Max grins, brushing a thumb over your knuckles. “I don’t know. You were pretty cute in your desperation.”

You groan, nudging him with your shoulder. “Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

“Not a chance,” he says, laughing. “It’s one of my favorite stories to tell.”

“Great. Glad my suffering is so entertaining for you,” you tease, though you can’t help but smile.

Max tugs you closer, his voice softer now. “You know, I’m really glad you ate those grapes.”

You look up at him, your heart fluttering at the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Me too.”

The DJ announces that it’s nearly midnight, and the crowd buzzes with excitement. Max pulls you to your feet, his hands resting lightly on your waist.

“Ready to count down?” He asks, his voice warm and low.

“With you? Always,” you say, grinning.

The countdown begins, and the energy in the room spikes. You can feel the excitement in the air, the anticipation of a new year, a fresh start.

“Ten!” The crowd shouts.

Max’s hands tighten slightly on your waist, and you lean into him, your pulse racing.

“Nine!”

You look up at him, your eyes locking.

“Eight!”

His gaze softens, his smile turning gentle.

“Seven!”

You bite your lip, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Six!”

Max leans down, his forehead brushing against yours.

“Five!”

Your breath catches as the noise of the crowd fades into the background.

“Four!”

“Three!”

“Two!”

You close your eyes, tilting your head up.

“One!”

Midnight strikes, and Max’s lips meet yours, soft and certain. The room erupts in cheers and confetti, but all you can focus on is the way he’s holding you, like you’re the only person in the world.

The kiss deepens, his hands sliding to your back, pulling you closer. You smile against his lips, your heart full and light-

Only to be rudely interrupted by someone literally wedging themselves between you.

“Alright, break it up!”

You stumble back a step, blinking in surprise. Max looks just as stunned, his hands still midair where they’d been resting on your waist.

Fernando stands between you, his arms crossed and a deeply unimpressed look on his face. “Leave room for Jesus.”

You gape at him, your cheeks burning. “Papá! What the hell are you doing?”

“I think the better question,” he says, looking pointedly at Max, “is what you two were doing.”

Max stares at him, then throws his hands up. “We were kissing. It’s New Year’s!”

Fernando raises an eyebrow. “And you couldn’t do that with a little more … decorum?”

“You’re not even religious!” You protest, exasperated.

Fernando smirks, clearly enjoying himself. “And that’s why, by Jesus, I mean me.”

Max blinks. “You mean … you?”

You stare at your father, your frustration warring with the urge to laugh. “Are you serious right now?”

“Completely,” Fernando says, deadpan. “Now, why don’t we all take a nice step back, breathe, and reflect on the fact that I’m allowing this relationship to exist at all.”

“Allowing?” Max echoes, crossing his arms. “With all due respect, I don’t think you get to allow anything anymore.”

Fernando turns to him, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, is that so?”

“Yes,” Max says firmly. “We’re adults. And we’re together. Whether you approve or not.”

Fernando looks at him for a long moment, then lets out a low chuckle. “Well, at least you’ve got guts.”

“More than that,” you interject, stepping between them. “He’s good to me. Better than anyone else ever has been. And I love him.”

Fernando’s smirk fades, replaced by something softer. He looks at you, his expression unreadable, then nods slowly. “I know.”

“You know?” You ask, surprised.

He shrugs. “Of course I know. I’m your father.”

Max exchanges a glance with you, clearly just as confused. “So … what’s with all the drama, then?”

Fernando grins, stepping back. “Because it’s fun.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands again. “I can’t believe this.”

Max laughs, pulling you into his side. “I can.”

Fernando claps Max on the shoulder, his grin widening. “Happy New Year, Verstappen. Don’t screw it up.”

Max meets his gaze, his expression serious. “I won’t.”

Fernando nods, then turns to you. “And you — try to keep him out of trouble, will you?”

You smile, leaning into Max. “I’ll do my best.”

Fernando waves you off, disappearing back into the crowd with a casual, “Don’t make me come back over here.”

Max watches him go, then turns to you, shaking his head. “Your dad’s insane.”

“Welcome to my world,” you say, laughing.

He grins, leaning down to kiss you again. This time, no one interrupts.

[celestiamour]

Accept my Hyun-ju request and my life is yours 😩🛐 (/lh you totally don't have to accept it if you don't want to <33)

BUT. The part where Hyun-ju is about to leave to fight the masked guards. Throughout the games, fem!reader developed a crush on Hyun-ju and before she left to fight, reader decides to go for it and give her a goodbye/good luck kiss 🤭

I am SO obsessed with this queen omg

ft. cho hyun-ju x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ giving her a goodbye kiss before she leaves during the revolt┊0.8k words

setting: season 2, episode 7 contains: , angsty & open-ended, season 2 spoilers, canon-typical gun violence! love confessions, reader is sapphic obviously, mentioned homophobia/transphobic in conservative korea

➤ author's note: i’m so glad to see so many requests for this queen, i’m also obsessed

“goddamn it, where the fuck is dae-ho?!” you could barely even hear yourself over the sounds of shots being fired on both sides, hiding behind the pink walls which were steadily being painted red with the blood of your companions. 

the younger marine had left at some point to gather more magazines from the pockets of the deceased guards back at the barracks, but he was currently nowhere to be seen and the situation was becoming more dire by the second. although you had been conservative with your bullets to focus on accurate hits that would kill them on the spot, there were only a handful left at the moment and some of the other men were completely out. 

over all the ruckus, you could hear hyun-ju yelling into the walkie-talkie trying to get a hold of him, but he was nowhere to be seen or heard so she roughly shoved it into her tracksuit pocket and began to shout, “something must have happened! i’ll go down and check!”

“wait, let me come with you! it’s too dangerous to go alone!” you tried to get up from your position but was stopped when an oncoming bullet managed to graze your face, making you shriek in surprise as a shaky hand lightly brushed at the wound and found your fingers now smeared with blood. 

“it’s even more dangerous for you to move from your spot! i’ll be okay, i promise!”

her determination was awe-inspiring, yet your heart sank at the realization this might be your last time seeing her face. your affections toward her were unexpected even though you already knew you loved differently than most people did, something you both bonded over when being a part of the lgbtq+ community was still a taboo topic socially, but you found her to be beautiful inside and out with her caring personality and resilience in times of danger even though you were too scared of ruining your special friendship to admit it. you had no idea it was possible to become so attached to another in the span of less than a week, being so surprised at the realization you stayed up for hours when others were asleep to take it in. the only other person who knew about your feelings for her was young-mi, and she was…

suddenly hyun-ju was next to you wiping away the sole tear about to drip down the corner of your eye, holding on to you with a worried look on her face, “are you okay? i thought you went into shock for a second.”

god, you didn’t even notice with the battle going on around you sounding almost muffled with the two of you feeling like the only souls for miles around. everyone here insisted you should stay behind on account of being a woman even though you believed you had proven yourself to be tougher than most throughout the games, but she had faith that you could fight just as fiercely as a man and defended you each time they said you should turn back. (as annoying as it was, you don’t blame them since they were only looking out for you.)

you stared back at her for a second, blinking away thoughts of the past to focus on the present, the knowledge of this possibly being your last interaction with her once again coming to the forefront of your mind. taking in a deep breath, you decided “fuck it” with closed eyes and pulled her towards you for your first and possibly last kiss.

her eyes remained wide open in shock, trying to process the sudden action. it lasted for a few seconds but felt like an entire minute, feeling your soft lips against hers as she reciprocated the kiss and feeling her heart jump for joy. the earth seemed to stop spinning for those few moments until a voice called out to interrupt. “hey lovebirds! we’re kind of in the middle of something here!”

you finally parted with her, gazing deeply into her eyes and noting her blown-out pupils. “come back safe, and when we get out of here, we’re going to pay for your surgeries and move to thailand together, and i…” you closed your eyes again, taking a deep breath to muster up the bravery to utter the words you might never be able to say again, “i love you.”

now it was her turn to stare at you. you loved her? loved her as she is? she can’t remember the last time she heard those words after getting essentially disowned by her family. she always knew, deep down, she shared the same feelings for you, but was too scared she would end up alone again as she has been for so long so chose to push them down out of fear of rejection. yet when you’re by her side like this in the face of certain death, she feels courage. “i love you too. we’re going to get out of this together,” her confident voice made it sound like she was an oracle who already foretold your happiness in the future, “but first, you guys are going to have to cover for me.”

“don’t worry, i got your back!”