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emphistic · 2 months ago

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MEDDLE ABOUT

SYN. Being co-stars with your ex-boyfriend of three months is basically hell; or at least, that's what you think. AKA: Sukuna wants you back, whether he's acting or not.

TAGS. actor AU, fem!Reader, mean!Sukuna, exes to lovers, forced proximity, sharing a cigarette, smoking, arguing, eventual smut, Sukuna likes to shut you up with his dick, cockwarming, answering the phone during séx, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, porn w/o plot, use of pet names: baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, my dear (mockingly)

WC. 5.4k (please read anyway 😞)

AN. requested by anon (you didn't specify any genre, so i just freestyled 🤷‍♀️), animated dividers by @/cafekitsune; i'm a sucker for actor AUs; available on ao3; MDNI

“I know you wanna kiss me,” you smiled, leaning closer to Sukuna’s face. Your noses were barely apart, and you couldn’t tell where his breath ended, and where yours started. To be honest, this was far more intimate than any other kiss scene you ever had to film.

“Yeah?” Sukuna grinned, getting equally as close. “And what’re you going to do about that, pretty girl?”

“. . .Fucking slap you, that’s what.”

“CUT!” The director yelled, groaning in exasperation. “C’mon, people. I know it’s been a long day, but put your differences aside for the sake of one movie, will ya? When you receive your paycheck, you’ll regret all of this ‘huffing and puffing’ you two are both doing right now.”

You exhaled, pulling away from Sukuna. It’s not that you couldn’t remember your correct lines, it’s just. . . You couldn’t take it anymore. Being in the same room as him, breathing in the same air as him, starring in the same movie with him. Fuck, you hated this.

You and Sukuna had broken up exactly three months ago despite having what seemed like a pretty healthy relationship. Seemed is the key word.

Of course, you two had your ups and downs, like an ordinary couple, but what differentiated you two from a normal couple was the fact that you guys both juggled busy careers as an actor and actress. Being booked with interviews, PR stunts, and in general, movies, you and Sukuna didn’t have the ability to spend much time together. And, as if that wasn’t enough, there was constantly a multitude of women on his arm during movie premieres. Yeah, you knew those were all for PR, but still, it hurt to see your boyfriend standing with a woman that wasn’t you every day.

At first, you thought you could take it. Being an actress yourself, you had your fair share of rumors and made up scandals. But it came to a point where you couldn’t take it anymore. You and Sukuna broke up, consequently, and fans immediately voiced their opinions and concerns, bombarding Twitter with trending tags, and posting videos on several apps. The internet had been obsessed with you guys as a couple since the first movie you two co-starred in—which was years ago—so their complaints definitely weren’t for naught.

Originally, you thought that your relationship with Sukuna would end on good terms, but boy, oh boy, were you wrong. Sukuna, just mere days after your breakup, was spotted by paparazzi walking around the city with his arm around a girl you definitely did not recognize as one of his current co-stars. And to make matters worse, he had the audacity to hit you up and ask if he could come over to your penthouse right after.

Men, am I right?

You two may or may not have slept together as exes a few times after your inevitable argument about him and that new girl, but rest assured, you did eventually break things off permanently. Well, you thought you did. As if by fate, you and Sukuna were casted as co-stars in an up-and-coming romance movie that had your fans just dying in anticipation of finally being able to see their favorite (broken up) couple together on screen again.

To be frank, you were originally going to pass up the role as the female lead—seeing as your luck had landed you as co-stars with Sukuna—but your manager apparently really, really wanted you to work on the film, saying things like Think of how elated your fans will be and It’s an adaptation from a book that made millions and Just imagine all of the PR and promoting you could do. It took a while of convincing—and coercing—to get you to finally agree to the role since, after all, PR was the main reason for your and Sukuna’s breakup. But, honestly, you would be lying if you said there weren’t any feelings left for your ex-boyfriend, Sukuna.

“I think we should all take a breather,” Sukuna began, jeering, “before someone gets all hot and bothered by just being on the same set as me. Wouldn’t you agree?” Sukuna turned to you, an expression on his face that just made you want to punch him in the nose.

“‘Hot and bothered’, seriously? Don’t make me laugh.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sukuna tilted his head to the side, grinning. “Do you think I’m joking? I could feel the way your heart was racing earlier, when we had to shoot that hugging in the rain scene. Just admit it, this isn’t acting for you.”

He was definitely self-projecting, you scowled just by the thought of it.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, sweetheart. We all know how you really feel,” Sukuna teased, leaning down to your eye-level. His breath fanned your reddening ear as he whispered, “You want me so bad it makes you look fucking stupid.”

And when he pulled away, Sukuna added one last remark, “I know it’s been a long three months for you. Say, how’s that blondie treating you, hm? I bet his dick is as small as his future in acting.”

“Ryomen, just stop.” You shook your head. “It’s not like that with him, and you know that. Just leave me alone.”

You shoved at his chest as you walked off set, your assistants following you promptly with water bottles and towels.

In all honesty, you remembered it like it happened yesterday. Before you and Sukuna became boyfriend and girlfriend, your first meeting was in a movie that you both starred in as the female and male lead. It was a romance movie, of course, that was about a couple meeting on an island while both on individual vacations. You two spent most of your days on set in swimsuits and bikinis, consuming fake alcoholic beverages, and, consequently, sleeping together—after the tension just grew unbearable.

On and off camera, Sukuna had been growing an attraction towards you. I mean, who could blame him? You two had to be near each other while being basically half-naked. And, if your pretty face wasn’t enough to beguile Sukuna, your ass definitely was. From the moment he shook hands with you at your first meeting as co-stars, he knew he had to have you—acting or not.

That movie was the start of the skyrocketing of both your and Sukuna’s career in acting. Fans quickly noted how much chemistry the two of you had together, and how well you two could act out emotions and intimate scenes. What the audience didn’t know, though, was that you and Sukuna had started seeing each other a few weeks after shooting together.

Sukuna had invited over the whole cast and team for drinks after a successful movie premiere, and you two ended up talking and conversing in his kitchen whilst a little under the influence. You two hit it off, and learned that being an aspiring actor wasn’t the only thing you two had in common. One glass turned into two, and two turned into stumbling into Sukuna’s bedroom after everyone had responsibly ordered a cab home.

Waking up the morning after, and deciding it wasn’t just going to be a one night stand, you and Sukuna thus began your new relationship. At first, you two avoided being spotted in public together, but it came to a point where your relationship just couldn’t be hidden anymore and you both decided to go public. The internet responded almost immediately with cheers, enthusiasm, and occasionally, expressions showing how un-surprised they were. I mean, you two had been shipped together almost constantly; making it official was almost expected.

Years passed, the honeymoon stage was over, your careers were more demanding and busy than they had ever been, and, well, you know the rest.

—

“Fancy seeing you here.”

A grimace immediately made its way onto your face at the sound of Sukuna’s voice calling out to you from behind.

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned, turning to face Sukuna as he sat down beside you and slung an arm around the back of the couch, “I was hoping the next time I saw you would be at your funeral.”

“A little harsh, don’t you think?” chided Sukuna, as he brought out a cigarette and lit it.

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back against the couch. “What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sukuna leaned his face closer to yours, his eyes running down your face and naturally drifting to your lips.

“Unless you’re being your usual asshole-self, and here to annoy me in my dressing room, I’m afraid not.”

After you stormed off set, the director decided it was best to just call it a day and continue filming tomorrow. You went outside for a bit to get some fresh air, before deciding to return to your dressing room and get unready. Stripping down and putting on nothing but your robe, you had sat yourself down on the couch and picked up a magazine, planning on spending a few minutes relaxing before making your way home. Sukuna barging in, despite being off the clock, was something you definitely weren’t expecting. He wasn’t supposed to be here, and if someone found out. . .

“You’ll be in a lot of trouble if my makeup artist comes in here and sees you,” you commented. “Go smoke somewhere else.”

At this, Sukuna’s eyes flickered up to your own, and he removed the cigarette from his lips before blowing out the smoke right in front of your face. Your nose scrunched up, as if on instinct, and Sukuna booped your nose with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I swear,” you began, snatching the cigarette out of Sukuna’s hands, “if I don’t kill you, I hope these will.” Now was your turn to put the cigarette between your lips. You inhaled, and took a deep breath. But, only moments after, the cigarette was out of your hands and abruptly stubbed on a nearby ashtray.

Sukuna looked at you with an intent look on his face. “As much as I find that hot, I’d rather I be the one damaging my lungs. Not you.”

“Looking out for little old me? How cute,” you smiled, your tone sarcastic. “I see you’re not over us, yet, hm? Did that new girl change your mind?”

You leaned closer to Sukuna, your shoulders brushing ever so slightly.

As soon as you mentioned that other chick, Sukuna rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. It was nothing, we didn’t even hold hands. C’mon, all we did was sit next to each other at a party, and now you’re on my ass about her?”

You shrugged, picking up the magazine you had previously discarded and flipping through the pages with faux interest. “Oh, really? Didn’t look that way to me. You two sure seemed buddy-buddy.”

“Like hell we did. Fuck, do you want me to bring up that twig you were with last week? Kid’s got no meat on his arms. Can’t even call him a man. Is that seriously how low you’re willing to go, babe?” Sukuna scoffed at your lack of attention to him. “Shit’s even worse than a downgrade.”

“You can think that all you want. But I definitely disagree.” You struggled to stifle a giggle.

Sukuna, furrowing his brows, narrowed his eyes at you. “The fuck do you mean by that? Don’t tell me you’ve seen his dick.”

“I dunno, have I?” You turned to Sukuna, meeting his gaze with an equal amount of irritation.

“Must’ve been pretty small, though, if you can’t even remember it,” Sukuna pressed, leaning closer to you, your noses touching, before pulling away. “Whatever, this is boring. Say, how about we get back to where we left off, and practice that kissing scene, hm? I think it’s a great idea.”

“Ryomen, let’s not. You know we’re done. Been done. We’re through.”

“You don’t really mean that.”

“Oh, is it not obvious? I think it was pretty obvious when you had the nerve to get with a new girl just days after we broke up. And then you have the balls to call me right after the paparazzi catches you two. Really, Sukuna? I don’t mind the idea of us ending on neutral terms, but . . . 48 hours? Two days after we broke up, and you’re already fucking some girl? Way to go, Sukuna.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there, baby. We didn’t even kiss, did you see any pictures of us kissing? No. And, besides, it’s called provocation. Honestly, you should be praising me, because it worked in the end, didn’t it? I came ‘crawling back’ like one of your little bitch boys, and what happened? Oh, I remember; you let me right the fuck in to your apartment.”

As much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t deny Sukuna. He was right. And, just the mere thought of what you two did after he hit you up brought heat to your cheeks.

The very same night after pictures of Sukuna and that new girl started circulating around the internet, Sukuna decided to text you:

hey pretty girl,

you up?

You were drying yourself off with a towel when you received two notifications on your phone, and when you saw the contact name, you frowned and turned off your phone without giving a response. Minutes after, there was a ring on your doorbell, and when you checked the camera, lo and behold, stood none other than the last pink-haired man you wanted to see that evening.

When you opened the door, wearing nothing other than a towel around your still dripping body, Sukuna couldn’t help but shamelessly check you out, deciding then and there that this definitely wasn’t going to be the end of your relationship. Of course, an argument ensued soon after, because that’s what life was like dating a dick like Sukuna. Luckily for you, however, Sukuna’s bulge in his pants was bigger than his ego, and so it made up for all of the playful bullying and teasing remarks that he frequently gave.

Sukuna—because he wasn’t born yesterday—knew his looks and charms fairly well, and often used them as a weapon or bargaining chip. That’s why, after you spent a minute or two berating and yelling at Sukuna near your front door, it only took the man one look into your eyes and one sultry comment to have you both stumbling into the . . . bedroom? No, you two had been apart for two days too long, and just decided to utilize your expensive kitchen counters for purposes completely unrelated to cooking.

The next morning, you two woke up—after getting just half an hour of sleep—and didn’t untangle from each other’s limbs until your manager called you nearly a hundred times, and forced you to get up and attend some interview or something. That, however, was not your last night with Sukuna. You two met up—intentionally or not—within the same week, whether it be at interviews or just random outings, and meddled with the other until one of you would fold (usually Sukuna) and consequently do something you would end up not fully regretting the next morning.

This affair continued until you finally came to your senses and blocked Sukuna out from your life in all ways possible. But, due to his bank account, Sukuna did end up purchasing multiple different phones just to be able to contact you. You may or may not have given in a few times, but in the end, you did end up leaving Sukuna for good.

“Reminiscing, are you? It’s okay, I’ve been doing that every night since you left the penthouse,” Sukuna laughed, noticing the way you went silent. You hated the way he referred to his place as The penthouse, and not, simply, his penthouse because, to be frank, for the years you both spent as a couple, you practically lived together despite having individual residences.

“What the hell, Sukuna. Just—Why are you even—?”

Sukuna cut you off, rolling his eyes. “I find it pretty hard to believe that not a single part of you misses me. Don’t lie; lying is a sin, y’know.”

“Sukuna—Excuse me? Don’t give me that shit. ‘Lying is a sin’ my ass. You must have to ask for God’s forgiveness pretty often, then. I can’t believe you want to call me a sinner, I mean, just—just look at you! You’re no saint, either, and you know that damn well.”

Sukuna raised his hands in defense, humoring you. “Woah, looks like I’ve been caught,” he laughed, before getting a little more serious. “But, don’t try to avoid the fact that you’re not innocent. Okay, we broke up due to not being able to make time for each other, and because of how much women I had to be around. Yeah, I get that. But it’s not like I was the only one taking up PR stunts. You did the same, too, didn’t you? So don’t try and paint me out to be the bad guy, when, at the end of the day, we did the same fucking thing.”

Irritated, you pinched the space between your brows. “I barely have any energy to say something to your stupid face right now. We broke up because of that, but also because of how much of a fucking dick you were and are. I knew you weren’t a total angel when we got together but—”

“Look. Do you want a nice guy?”

“. . .”

“Don’t feel pressured to answer, baby. We all know how you really feel.”

“Go. to. Hell. Sukuna. Seriously. This? Again? Do you even know how much of an ass you are? I should deserve an award for putting up with your shit for so long, God—”

“Yeahh, just keep talking,” said Sukuna in a teasing manner, as he leaned back against the couch, spreading his legs apart. You had never wanted to sit somewhere so bad.

“Are you fucking kidding me—mmph!”

You would’ve continued yelling and cursing Sukuna out for being such a dick had he not roughly pressed his lips against yours, immediately shutting you up. Because you still had some self-respect left, you fought back, throwing weak punches at his chest; but when Sukuna caught your wrists in his hands, you knew it was game over. Your muffled complaints soon turned to whimpers and sighs, as you shut your eyes and let your body do the talking.

Minute after minute, you gradually turned to putty in Sukuna’s hands. Fuck, as much as you hated to admit it, you had truly missed this. The feeling of his large, coarse hands roaming your body, tracing your curves, the feeling of his soft, but unruly hair under your fingertips, but most importantly, the feeling of his lips on yours.

At this point, you couldn’t even remember why the two of you broke up.

“Sukuna,” you murmured, pulling away for a moment to breathe. “We’re not together anymore. We shouldn’t—”

“Shouldn’t?” repeated Sukuna, eager to get back to where you left off. “Are you in a relationship with someone else? Am I in a relationship with someone else? No, and no. So enlighten me, my dear, why should we stop?”

“. . .” It was like he was challenging you, except, this time, it was a battle you could afford to lose. You wanted Sukuna, you really did. But admitting it was the hard part. You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating every outcome, as Sukuna continued to stare at you with so much desire you could practically feel it.

“Are you hesitating because,” Sukuna paused, “—because you fucked someone else while I was gone?”

You sighed, swallowing the lump in your throat; you had never been more conflicted in your life. Placing your hands on Sukuna’s shoulders, you pushed back until Sukuna was sitting on the couch, and you were sitting on top of him—seated on his lap. As if on instinct, his hands made their way from your hips to the curve of your ass.

Sukuna gripped the globes of fat and muscle with a purpose, and let out an exaggerated groan at the missed feeling of you practically sitting on his dick. You were wearing nothing but a dainty, silky robe, and you clearly didn’t cross it over your chest too well, as Sukuna could see almost everything he had been missing out on during the past few months.

“Don’t even think about lying to me. I can feel you throbbing on my thigh, y’know.”

“. . .And?” You raised a brow; whispering in Sukuna’s ear, “What about it?”

Biting your lip, you let your hands wander up and down Sukuna’s neck, the spot you knew he liked you touching. When you broke things off with Sukuna, you didn’t know you could miss being able to trace his tattoos as bad as you did.

“Oh?” asked Sukuna. But when his fingers wandered up your robe, there was a sudden change in Sukuna’s demeanor, and he sucked in a breath.

“Adorable,” you laughed. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Shit, baby,” Sukuna groaned, “I bet you were expecting me to come and visit your little dressing room, huh. Even planned ahead and gave me a little surprise. Cheeky thing.”

Just seconds earlier, Sukuna’s fingers had been teasingly ghosting where you wanted him most, but when he noticed the lack of underwear you had on, he nearly lost it. You clearly weren’t making it easy for Sukuna to stay composed, he was sure of that much. Despite all of his belittling and teasing remarks, he definitely wasn’t as unaffected as he let himself seem to be.

“We’ve just been apart for so, so long.” You looked into Sukuna’s eyes, a faux pout on your lips as you looped your arms around his neck and pressed your tits up against his chest. “Can you blame me?”

“Fuck, girl,” Sukuna kissed his teeth. “You’re dripping wet. All for me?”

“Who the fuck else?”

Sukuna’s fingers danced around your entrance, collecting your slick as you pressed your thighs together, trapping his hand between your legs (not like he was complaining, though; that was probably the closest to Heaven Sukuna would ever get in his lifetime). “Mmm, that’s what I like to hear.”

It wasn’t a surprise when you pressed your lips against Sukuna’s, bringing him in for another zealous kiss. In an effort to get impossibly closer, your body curved into his, like you were puzzle pieces molded and created just for each other. You two moved in sync, as if you had both rehearsed this before; but, in truth, you two had just made out too many times to count, so kissing Sukuna was basically like breathing air. You needed it to survive, and, it was light work. What more could you say?

The tension and lust between you two grew, and your dressing room soon filled with the sound of sensual desire, moans and quiet gasps, and the creaking of the framework of your unfortunate couch, which had the misfortune of being beneath the two of you.

From the moment you had begun straddling his lap, you had pretended not to notice the growing erection below you; but, by now, it was pretty hard to ignore the bulge pressing against your ass. It was like, during the months you two spent apart, Sukuna’s dick was growing even larger than before. You didn’t remember it being so big. And, just the sight of it was enough to make you lick your lips in fear? Anticipation? . . .Definitely a mix of both.

As Sukuna made a show of removing his belt and pants, he grinned at the evident look of unfamiliarity on your face. “Scared?”

“Of course not,” you quipped, trying to put up a front, but your body betrayed you, displaying otherwise.

“Naturally,” Sukuna mocked, “that’s why I can practically feel your arousal, right?”

You bit your lip, “Shut up.”

Sukuna laughed, pushing the ends of your robe up to rest on your hips, and sliding his hands to your ass, squeezing each cheek with an equal amount of force. Damn, thought Sukuna, he had missed his favorite girls.

“Just because we haven’t done this in a while doesn’t mean you have to be afraid of it. C’mon,” Sukuna slowly repositioned and lowered your hips and spread your legs apart, easing his dick through your cunt, “there’s nothing to be shy about. I know you��ve been missing this.”

It was true, you and Sukuna hadn’t fucked in three whole months, and your body was definitely starting to forget how he felt. The feeling of your walls stretching to accommodate Sukuna’s length and size burned pleasurably, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan, which, in turn, just came out as a whimper instead.

Bracing yourself, you planted both palms on Sukuna’s broad shoulders as your lashes fluttered and your eyes shut tight. “So—nngh—So big, Sukuna. God.”

“Bet you’re real glad you decided to accept this role, after all, huh.”

Your eyes snapped open, and you glared at Sukuna. “Will you just shut—oh!”

Just as you were about to yell at Sukuna, he decided it was the absolute perfect time to give a rough thrust; and you could’ve sworn you felt him in your womb. Throughout all the years you two had been together, you rarely had the opportunity to actually sit on his dick, and, now that you had the chance, you realized how full you felt in this position compared to how you two usually fucked. Sukuna knew you liked it rough, but this . . . was like nothing you had experienced before.

Sukuna—laughing—leaned down just enough to whisper in your ear, “You were saying?”

“Fuck,” you gritted your teeth. “Just move, Sukuna, goddamnit. What’s the holdup? Don’t tell me the late twenties are catching up to your libido.”

“Ha! in your dreams. I was just thinking of a new way we could have fun. Let’s see, just how long can you go without moving, hm?”

You gulped. “W-What? Why would you—?”

“Because it’s exciting, and spices up things. Don’t you think so?”

“. . .”

As the minutes idly passed by, you grew hot and bothered, and exasperated. You couldn’t believe Sukuna was making you do this. Nearly ninety days you two spent apart, and now that you had gotten back together, he had the audacity to leave you high and dry? In a final attempt at getting any satisfaction, you moved to roll your hips, desperate to create any amount of friction to free you from this everlasting state between Heaven and Hell; but two rough hands abruptly caught you in motion, and swiftly held you down.

“Ah, ah, ah,” tutted Sukuna, in a mocking tone. “Did I say you could move?”

Clearly frustrated, you let out a whine; but as your hands move to give punches against Sukuna’s chest, he catches your wrists in his hands with ease, an evil smile on his face, like a predator that had successfully cornered their prey and was just seconds away from latching their teeth in.

The belt was already pretty loose, so when one of the sleeves on your robe slipped down your shoulder, revealing your bare chest, no one was that surprised.

“Oh?” Sukuna began. “What have we here?” His scarlet eyes roamed up and down your figure, as his grip on your wrists turned almost deathly.

“You . . . bastard,” you—suddenly feeling a bit shy—tried to tug your wrists out of his grasps, in order to cover yourself up, but your attempts were futile. “Let go of me—hnngh, shit.”

Your back arched, body curving closer to Sukuna’s as his lips abruptly wrapped around one of your already hard nipples, catching you off guard. You had never felt so overwhelmed; the feeling of Sukuna sucking on a tit while his dick was buried inside of you—unmoving—was nearly enough to make you cum, despite the lack of movement that Sukuna allowed.

Bringing you out of your dazed state was the sudden ringing of your phone on the table beside the ashtray. Your eyes widened in surprise, as you softly pushed Sukuna off of you. “Just—Just ignore it. It’s not important.”

“Right. But where’s the fun in that, huh?”

“You don’t mean. . .”

“You know what I mean. Answer it, on speaker,” Sukuna pressed. His tone told you he wasn’t going to repeat himself.

With shaky fingers, you reached for the phone, answered the caller, and put it on speaker. “H-Hello? Katayama?”

Katayama was the name of one of your co-stars. Or, in other words, the blonde dude, which Sukuna kept mentioning earlier.

“Hey, you! It’s pretty late right now, perfect time for us to go out and get some drinks, y’know? I’m a bit bored, as of lately.”

You were about to respond with an apologetic declination to his offer, but Sukuna cut you off as he roughly lifted up your hips and abruptly slammed them back down, causing you to choke back a moan, and cover it up with a faux series of coughs. “I’m, ah, a little . . . busy,” you whimpered, wincing at the tight grip on your hips—which was sure to leave a bruise in the morning, “right now.”

“Are you sick?”

“Uhm, no—I mean, yes!” You let out another fake cough just to seal the deal. “Yup, just a little under the weather.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a string of moans and curses as Sukuna continued slamming your hips up and down onto his.

“Well, if you’re ever in need of an extra warm blanket, don’t be afraid to—”

“Hahh.” A breathy moan slipped past your lips, and you could practically see the surprised look that was probably on Katayama’s face right now.

“—call . . . me. Uhm, are you sure you’re sick? You sound like you’re in the middle of . . . something. Is everything okay—?”

“Yup! Yeah, everything is totally okay,” you forced out, with an enthusiastic tone. Gripping Sukuna’s shoulder with your free hand for leverage, you shut your eyes tight as you quickly ended the call. “I’m a little occupied at the moment, I’ll call you ba—I’m gonna go. Bye!”

As swiftly as you hung up the call, you threw your phone across the couch, and let out all of the noises you had been previously bottling up.

“I’m so c-close.” You mewled, now even more desperate than you were before.

“If you dare cum,” Sukuna began, his voice low, “I’ll stop.”

“Sukuna!” You whined, scratching at his back and leaving little crescent shaped marks from your nails on his tricep. “I need to—ahnn!”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you held onto Sukuna’s shoulders for dear life as he quickened his pace. Lifting your hips up with ease, and slamming them back down with equal force. Fucked out of your mind was not enough to describe your current state, as your eyes rolled back into your head, and your lipstick was smudged across your mouth.

Sukuna leaned down to whisper into your ear, never stopping his movements. “Bet the little blondie didn’t fuck you like this, huh?”

It was obvious that Sukuna wasn’t an insecure guy; I mean, he had no reason to be. He had nice muscles, a good body, overall, sharp features, tempting eyes, and tattoos for days. But, you had to admit, the spark of jealousy was definitely a good look on Sukuna, one that you wouldn’t mind seeing every once in a while, if it meant seeing him like . . . this.

“. . .S-Sukuna, we never—we never even fucked in the first place.”

“Oh, yeah? How long you been without cock, then, huh? Must be why you’ve been acting like such a bitch. I almost feel bad; all this time, my baby’s just been depraved.”

“. . .F-fuck you,” you shivered, body practically shaking with need.

“No need to state the obvious, sweetheart. Fuck, even your tears taste sweet,” Sukuna groaned, licking a stripe up your cheek. “It’s as if you were literally made for me to devour.”

“Please, please let me cum! I’m so—hnngh—close.”

“Yeah, no. C’mon, I know my girl can last just a little longer, can’t you?” Sukuna grinned, biting his lip as he admired your dazed state. He hadn’t been able to touch you in three months, ninety days, 504 hours. If anyone was going to get their fill, it was him.

—

“Oh!” Your stylist exclaimed, after walking into your dressing room and noticing you lying asleep on the couch. “You’re already here. And, Sukuna’s here, too. Wait. . . SUKUNA’S HERE, TOO!?”

#sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x y/n #em writes ˎˊ˗

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mwahsol · 1 month ago

Text

Hot sauce makes me nervous

Description: You have been invited to go on Hot One's First We Feast. It was recently announced that you're releasing an album but when some were looking through the title names they noticed some were romantic names, there have been rumors of you and a specific Uconn basketball player, leading there to already be a lot of attention on the anticipated album. Later on in the interview, you get asked about a specific song already out asking you who and/or what was the inspiration for it. I am using Sabrina and her music as well from other artists as yours in this because I can't think of good song titles…enjoy :)

“It's the show with hot questions and even hotter wings. Today we’re joined by Y/n L/n, she is one of the most talked about artists. Her debut album from 2021 still to this day is one of the most played in the last four years, some of her latest singles being Please Please Please, Espresso, Nonsense, and The Diner. As well as her new album called Sort n’ Sweet. Y/n L/n welcome to the show.” Sean announces while turning to look at you during the end as to give you the greeting.

“Hi thank you for inviting me, this has been a dream of mine to be here so I am honored and nervous,” you reply a bit nervous since you're fangirling on the inside.

“We’re excited to have you, how are you feeling going into this, are you a fan of hot sauce or prefer to keep things more tame?” He starts with a simple question to try and get you a bit comfortable, keeping things light and steady.

“Umm, I wouldn't say I'm a fan.. when I'm out at dinner I don't go for the spicy flavors but like as a small snack like chips or something yes I'm a fan. Hot sauce makes me all sweaty and nervous if I'm honest.” You say giggling towards the end because you know if you lied your girlfriend's team would never let you live it down when they watch this. “Like one time I thought it was a good idea to try those hot soups filled with peppers and stuff I started to tear up by like the fifth bite.”

At your retelling of the event, Sean is also laughing with you before he starts asking you the question he's prepared and having to dig in.

“I never eat wings with bones in them so this is a little new to me,” you tell him while taking your first bit of the first wing.

“Really? I thought most ate them with the bone in.”

“Yeah I just have an irrational fear of my teeth falling out if I bite down on the bone, that's also why I hate eating with forks.”

Sean and the rest of the people behind the cameras can't help but laugh at your admission. In the background of everyone laughing with you both, you can hear her laughing as well knowing that what you're saying is very much true. Hearing her you turn your head subtly, thinking people wouldn't notice this when posted, looking at her laughing admiring her for a second. You would find out later on people could decently see you turn your head, and if you listened close enough you could hear Paige's laughter in the back.

As the show went on Sean asking you questions about your career, your opinions on your songs, and how you came to be a singer, he asks, “So your song Let the Light In is one of your more romantic yet darker songs. Is there a story behind it or how did the inspiration come to you to create a song like this?”

When hearing his question you started worrying a bit knowing the inspiration wasn't just yours but Paige's too. You look at her in a way asking if she's ok with you answering knowing that this involves a personal situation with her and yourself, when you see her nod and give you an encouraging smile you know she's giving you the go-ahead and will be supportive of your answer. “Well, I wrote the song from my girlfriend mainly, when she had a serious injury and was in a dark place at the time when I met her. As she slowly got better the day she was cleared to play again she told me that she was grateful to have me because meeting me was like a light coming into her life encouraging her to get better. When she told me that I cried because I admitted to her that when I met her I was also at a dark place in my life so meeting her was also like the sun shining after the storm for me. We are each other's lights so I wrote the song for her.” You answer tearing up at the memory but smiling remembering her face when you told her she's your light too.

“It such a heartwarming thing to see how you can take special memories like that and write something beautiful for it, thank you for sharing.” He replied also smiling fondly at you seeing how you made sure with Paige first and telling such a personal moment.

“Thank you too for asking,” you know some interviews would keep pushing for more details, and you're grateful he didn't seeing as how it's not just your story to tell.

By the ninth wing, you started crying while laughing, there were funny instances from you getting a wing and running to Paige telling her to eat it since she was dying by laughing at you, to you falling out of your chair from how fast you turned and reached to grab the milk from the table away from you.

“I feel like my makeup with melting off just by my sweat and tears,” you say struggling to just sit upright but still laughing at your situation.

“Yeah, you look like it.” You heard Paige mumble in the background teasing you knowing it would get a reaction out of you.

“Babe I swear I will go back there and pour this hot sauce down your throat.” Threatening her, not being cautious anymore, while you felt like your mouth was on fire. This makes her laugh even harder as well as the crew and Sean.

After most of the laughter settled down Sean gets ready to ask another question. “This past year you have been spotted at a lot more WCBB and WNBA games, when did you get into watching women's basketball, and why?”

“When I was younger I had brothers that played basketball, they would teach me to play, and tried to get me to watch the NBA. As most big brothers do I just never could get into watching men play but anytime I would find a WNBA game you could bet I was fighting for the controller to put on the game. This year I’ve had a bit more free time since the tour for my last album was done and I took a bit of a break before I started writing this new album so I decided to attend as many as I could.” You weren't technically lying but you did leave out the part where you would mainly go to Uconn games to see your girlfriend back on the court and support her.

“Do you still play?”

“Yeah, a bit nothing serious though,” which is true if anyone on the team asks you to play you would say yes. Paige, while you are both away from Connecticut, if she finds a court shell beg you to play. Even though they're very much significantly taller you'll sometimes land a few points.

“Alright Y/n last one,” he tells you while shaking the last bottle.

“Oh gosh ok ok,” You can feel yourself shaking a little with nervousness but you have to see it through, or else she will never let you forget it. Shaking the bottle as well you try to put a of hot sauce enough to get it but not too much where you're burn your tongue off.

“Before I do this I want the camera and people to see that I did put some on there so she can't say I wussed out,” you tell everyone holding up your wing and looking directly at Paige while she shakes her head laughing at your expression.

“Yes, no one can claim you didn't go through with it, going out with a bang,” Sean tells you backing you up.

When you bite down you can already feel yourself regretting this. You start sweating again, eyes tearing up, nosey runny, you're defiantly making her drive you to go get ice cream.

“So Y/n you stated that in you're elementary through middle school years you took ballet lessons,” as soon as he said those words you knew where this was going and started to mentally prepare yourself, “we wanted to see if you could choreograph a small routine to your song All mine.”

“Of course, I can't promise it'll be good,” you respond while laughing and sniffling.

“Alright let's move these tables and chairs,” Sean says while laughing with you.

When doing your routine you only got a few steps in before you stopped and could continue because of your laughter, “I'm sorry omg I can't do it.”

“Fanominal dance couldn't have asked for better. There it is Y/n L/n taking on the wings of death, living to tell the tale, is there anything you would like to promote.”

“Short n’ Sweet comes out August, listen to it please it'll make me feel better from this. Watch the WNBA they're really cool and watch WCBB they're really cool too.” Biding everyone goodbye while still panting a little.

“Those wings got you good hm baby?” Paige says while driving to a McDonalds to get you a ice cream you almost demanded for.

“Paige, honey, I love you but I swear on everything I love I will make this car crash if we don't get ice cream. I can feel my face melting off.” You claim not even looking at her too busy trying not to keep sniffling.

“Ok ok we're almost there,” she can't help but laugh. I mean can you blame her, you were excited to do this a few hours ago now you look light you lost a fight.

After finally getting you your ice cream it's like your mood did a complete 180. “Thank you my love,” you say as you kiss her all over her face showing her how much you wanted that ice cream.

“The switch-up is crazy,” Paige says while chuckling at your attitude and holding your waist.

“I can stop.”

“Now I never said that come here mama.”

I'm slowly defrosting y'all (I'm losing my mind.) ANYWAY, I hope you guys enjoyed this <3

Kiss the sun 🌞

#fluff #wlw #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige x reader #uconn wbb x reader #uconn x reader #wcbb x reader

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water-to-drink · 4 months ago

Note

Ooooo can you write a self aware Neuvillette? Thx!

Self Aware Neuvilette

(Pairing): sagau!Neuvilette x gn!creator!reader

(Tags/Warnings): Foul language, crack fic (reader doesn’t take anything seriously), Neuvilette is down with the shits, might feel rushed, not proofread, (if I missed something lmk)

(Word Count): 500

(A/n): Sorry this took forever, these interactions are based off of stuff I said while playing, if y’all are interested in more in this then let me know

💧Whispers of a famous traveler supposedly blessed by the creator of Teyvat have long since reached the pointed ears of the Iudex of Fontaine

💧Having lived during the time when their Grace still walked Teyvat and having the privilege of saying that he was well acquainted with them, Neuvilette was curious to say the least

💧Having known you personally he can confidently say that depictions of you as a wise and elegant being aren’t exactly all that accurate. Neuvilette remembers times where you would make him double over in laughter, to the point where he could barely breathe

💧Perhaps fate wanted you to reunite when he didn’t expect it, the traveler right next to him waiting for one of Lyney’s performances to begin. His conversation with the traveler went well, Neuvilette thought that the rumors of the traveler being blessed by their Grace were just rumors, he heard the familiar sound of your voice

“Oh my god. He’s so babygirl!”

💧Neuvilette was stunned, “babygirl?” You were “peculiar” when you were still on Teyvat, but he never used that word to refer to him or anyone

“Come home to me hydro daddy, I’ll treat you right.”

💧He could see the grimaces of both the traveler and Paimon’s faces, it’s apparent that they aren’t fans of your behavior

💧When the performance went awry and a trial had to be held your comments didn’t stop, but the most memorable was the trial of the Harbinger Childe. Once you walked in you made your opinion on the situation heard

“Childe, what the fuck?! I left you alone for 5 minutes and you get arrested?!”

💧The trial went ahead, but with your input

“I ain’t no Saul Goodman, but I will get you off… Not sexually! I mean you’ll go free!”

💧It was hard for Neuvilette to keep a straight face. Your constant commentary catching him off guard and the shocked reactions of the audience makes it difficult to remain stoic

💧You made good points towards the Harbinger’s case and when it was time to bring the gavel down for the verdict, it came back guilty. After dealing with Tartaglia who made a ruckus in his court

“And getting your ass beat by the judge, embarrassing.”

💧Stay composed. Stay composed, Neuvilette. He told himself

💧The next time he saw the Traveler he need a favor from them. To go the the fortress of Meropide to investigate the disappearance of Tartaglia

“Oh hold on!”

💧You said before you went quiet. Suddenly rock music fills his ears and he hears you singing along to the lyrics

“Breaking the law! Breaking the law!”

💧While the traveler and their floating companion shook their heads in disbelief, a slight smile made its way on the dragon’s face. If he wasn’t stuck in his current position he would be doubled over laughing

💧Oh how much he misses you and your antics

#genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin sagau #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin x female reader #genshin x f!reader #genshin x m!reader #genshin x male reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x gn reader #neuvilette x male reader #neuvilette x gn reader #neuvilette x female reader #neuvilette x reader #sagau neuvilette #genshin headcanons

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cottonlemonade · 12 days ago

Text

Dating You For A Bet [Part 1]

word count: 1767 || avg. reading time: 8 mins.

pairing: university AU!Matsukawa x chubby!Reader

genre: angst

warnings: some swearing

It was becoming increasingly harder to ignore the barely hidden stares and whispers surrounding you. You looked up to check if maybe you were just imagining things but the hastily averted eyes and hush of voices solidified your suspicion that you were once again the talk of the town. It happened many times before that you, the chubby foreigner with the mediocre grades but big opinions during seminars, were subject to gossip and after a year of studying in Tokyo, you were somewhat used to it. The gossip died down a few months after your arrival only to spike exponentially when the handsome middle blocker of the varsity volleyball team came up to you one day during lunch and with a disarming smirk that belonged on the pages of scandalous romance novels simply sat down across from you, asking if you enjoyed the miso soup that was hardly touched and by now stone cold on your tray. Oblivious to any kind of possible flirting you just shrugged and went back to your phone when a long finger tapped gently on your knuckles to get your attention. Matsukawa tilted his head a little and asked if you’d like to study with him later in the library and you agreed and it all just developed from there. He did have to spell it out for you that he was interested since you just assumed that he was being nice like most guys you talked to but you quickly came into the dessert-like luxury of being acknowledged as his girlfriend, fingers entwined, him pulling your legs over his lap when you lounged on a bench on the university grounds, talking about anything and nothing for six glorious, sunny months. You were in fact waiting for him right now, keeping your backpack on the seat next to you just in case someone dared to plop down. Giggles and pointing now joined the stares and whispers and frowning a little you pulled out your phone to text your boyfriend how long he’d be.

“Sorry! Sorry. Hey, I said sorry, now shoo~“ Your tall glass of water of a man shuffled through the row of seats a minute later and a little out of breath from running over from another building got comfortable and produced his laptop from his messenger bag. “Thank you, beautiful.”, he panted when you brought the straw of your iced coffee to his lips.

“What’s up?”, he asked when you didn’t lean in as usual for a kiss. Following your gaze he looked around the lecture hall. Some people quickly turned the other way again while others just blatantly continued their gawking.

“What’s going on?”

“No idea but I feel like it has something to do with me.”, you said quietly. Slouching further down in your chair you added, “Maybe some stupid rumor again in the class forum. Like last time when they thought I only have one pair of pants because most of my jeans just have the same cut.”

“Well, better check it out so I can vehemently defend my girl against any and all evil doings that are being evil done.”, he said chivalrously and grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket. But after a bit of typing you saw all color drain from his face. His usually relaxed half hooded eyes widened in shock and he quickly locked the screen.

“Babe.”, you gave a nervous chuckle, “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

You raised a brow. “You do realize that I also have access to that site and can check myself.”

Slowly, very very slowly he handed you his phone and with a few swipes it unlocked.

Sure enough the community forum of your year was open and a set of screenshots from a group chat was pinned to the very top.

You recognized one of the profile pictures. It was Issei’s old one before he changed it to a photo of you and him kissing at a lake.

Your boyfriend meanwhile sat silently next to you, staring at his hands.

Three minutes passed in which the air around became thick with tension.

You swallowed the impossibly large lump that had formed in your throat while you read, then stared ahead at the many other students now obviously waiting for you to react.

But you were not about to give them the satisfaction. You tossed the phone back into your … into Matsukawa’s lap and having no patience to put your things away, just grabbed tablet, notepad, pen and phone awkwardly in one hand, your backpack in the other and got up.

“Please let me out.”, you said calmly.

“Y/n, I-“

“I said, let me out.”

Matsukawa stood up to let you pass, so did the other people in your row. You felt your eyes burn but you willed yourself not to cry or breathe until you left this room.

Stoically, you walked up the few steps towards the double doors when you heard shuffling behind you and a hand grabbed your wrist. You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him.

“Princess, please-“

You yanked yourself free and reached for the handle.

“Mr Matsukawa, Miss L/N.”, the voice of the professor who had finally arrived stopped you in your tracks, “May I remind you that in order to pass my class you need an 80% attendance rate? Especially you, Mr Matsukawa, if you leave now I’m going to have to fail you.”

Grim satisfaction filled your head when you pushed open the door to leave him behind.

He should stay like a good boy. He should have the decency to give you a head start to go to his dorm so you could collect every single thing you ever left there and you began to wonder if you’d need one or two trash bags for all the crap he kept in your room.

But much to your surprise the door behind you didn’t close as quickly as you thought. Familiar footsteps caught up to you.

“Y/n, it’s not what you think.”

Your heart began to sting and twist; the tears, no longer under your control, streamed down your plump cheeks when you spun around.

“Alright.”, you began, letting out a quivering breath to steady your voice, “Tell me. Explain to me why you obviously making a bet with your jerky friends about getting me into bed is not what I think. Oh, and make sure you use small words for the foreigner. Go on. Make me laugh.”

“Gorgeous-“

“Don’t call me that.”

He flinched. He looked small, kneading his hands like that, head ducked between his shoulders and staring at your shoes.

“Y/n…”, he said but then fell silent.

“That’s what I thought. Don’t talk to me. Don’t call me. Don’t come near me ever again.”

You turned on your heel and not caring about the highly entertained grin some passersby threw your way you hurried out of the building.

Issei looked after you for a long while, then he returned to the lecture hall.

You lay on your bed, arm over your eyes and heating pillow on your tummy. Ever since this morning you hadn’t been able to eat anything and were now paying the price for trying to keep down an old milk bread bun you had found squashed at the bottom of your backpack. Without all of Matsukawa’s stuff cluttering your side of the room it felt a lot emptier. All the plushies from the arcade he’d won for you, his spare Pyjamas (kept hidden under your bed) for when your roommate was out of town, a bouquet of flowers, impulsively picked from someone’s front yard that you had pressed and framed, a tattered old jersey from his high school team he left for you as a makeshift pillowcase so you could breathe him in if he couldn’t be with you - all of that was stuffed into a bulging black trash bag by the door. It genuinely surprised you that your phone had stayed silent all day. In the very back of your mind, a small unwelcome part of you had hoped that he’d try to talk to you despite your warnings. That he would try to explain himself and get you back but then again it had all just been a game to him, right?

The rustling of paper had you sit up. A folded note slipped under your door. You got up to investigate. The handwriting, almost illegible chicken scratches, and almost illegible, was unmistakable. Fighting the urge to read it, you simply crumpled it up and threw it away, proud of yourself. But when you turned to go back to bed, another note appeared.

It looked identical to the first.

“What the…”, you muttered, and as you balled up this new message you called through the door, “Go away!”

But a third note, the same as the first two, swished towards your feet.

You had enough and pulled the door open.

Crouching before you, a stack of paper in his arms, was Matsukawa, arm outstretched with yet another note, ready to deploy apparently.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I-“

“Didn’t I tell you that I don’t want to see you again?”

“Well…”

“Well what?”

“Technically you didn’t see me. U-until… now.” You glared at him and he quietly added, “Loophole.” in a weak attempt to lighten the mood.

“Are you seriously trying to be cute right now?”

“No! Not at all, I- uhm, did you read the message?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Okay, give me five minutes to explain. Please!”

“What’s there to explain? Your dumb friend offered you a dumb bet and your dumb ass accepted it. With zero hesitation, might I add.”

“Yes, but-“

“Did you get the money?”

“What?”

“You heard me, did you get the money?”

“I… yes.”

“Did you feel guilty for getting the money?”

“Babe- I mean, y/n”, he quickly swerved after seeing you seething with rage at the nickname, “the money didn’t matter! I was hopelessly in love with you the moment you pushed Makki into the pool.”

He shuffled half a step closer to you and took a whole one back again when you frowned.

“That party was in July. We started dating in the spring. So for the first half of our relationship you were just pretending?”

“N-no! That’s not what I - no!”

“Take your shit and get out of my sight!”

“Listen to me, I won’t let you go! You’re the best thing that ever happened to me! I know I don’t deserve you but please don’t leave me! I love you, y/n!”

“Goodbye!”

And after chucking the trash bag into his face you slammed the door shut.

art: I wasn’t able to find out who the OG artist was. If you know, please lemme know and I’ll add

[part 2]

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biolumien · 6 months ago

Text

... carried flower petals

pt 2 to this

notes: I AM. such a bad writer. help. going through double the stages of grief on this one. who even cares. who even gaf! i don't. im winning in the dgaf wars. (lying)

samurai!soshiro hoshina x fem!reader NSFW! w/ m/f sex. no i did not proofread this. this isn't a flex i actively just squinted trying not to look too hard at my own writing. this is also hoshina pov word count: 2415

hoshina supposes that he couldn’t blame you for your reaction. there was no way you would have been happy about marrying him, a complete and utter stranger–no matter how many times you might have met prior. and in the three times you’d met, he’d tried to keep his distance. there was an aura of deep discontent about you, and he didn’t want to disturb you, for fear that your anger would turn darker.

at least, until you pulled a dagger on him.

the dagger that he’d gifted you, no less.

or, well–he hadn’t gifted it to you directly. he had selected the gift, but it had come alongside the marriage offer–and so hoshina wondered if you’d conflated the dagger as something utterly negative. when he’d picked out the dagger, he’d vowed it to keep you safe from harm. a selfish well-wishing on his part, sure–as a samurai, he was bound to make enemies that could hurt you.

he raises a hand to his neck, touching where you might have slashed him.

would he have let you?

he brings himself to his feet as the sliding door to his room opens. you stand in the doorway, dressed in a simple nightgown–a far cry from the garments you wore during the ceremony.

his mind flits back to them, for a moment–you’d chosen to wear pure white, contrasting him in his black haori and hakama. your expression had been severe, distant even then. you’d followed your new attendants into the quarters of your new housing within the hoshina clan’s home to change out of your wedding attire, and you hadn’t met his glance once.

you bow your head.

“your attendants tell me you’re quite the talent in bed,” you say, your voice crisp. your eyes meet his, your gaze unreadable. his eyes flick to your hands, folded neatly in front of you–and yet your fingers are fidgeting ever so slightly, a possible indication of just how nervous you were.

hoshina can’t help but laugh.

“is that what they say? my mother can’t help but find people that run their mouths…” hoshina runs a hand through his hair. “sit. i can’t have my wife–” the word still felt foreign to him–wife, he was really a husband, was that even a moniker that fit him?–but he swallows his misgivings, pats one of the cushions next to the futon. “–standing for so long. it would be unfitting.”

“so are you?” you gather your kimono, sitting down.

hoshina hums.

“if i tell you, would you see me differently?” hoshina asks.

“well. you’re my husband,” you say. the corners of your lips twitch when you say the word husband, your brow furrowing a little bit as you say it. a clear show of your definite displeasure. “i have to… accept it, after all. as your wife. hell, your attendants tell me that you were in the process of courting concu–”

“ahh,” hoshina leans his head back. “so is that what that’s all about?” he sighs, a strange, tightening pressure forming somewhere in his throat. the marriage acceptance hadn’t been on his end. it’d been his father’s, much to his mother’s chagrin. you were from a no-name clan, having long lost your family’s relevance. his mother had complained about your family’s name dragging down the hoshina family’s name.

but as hoshina reminisced–he couldn’t give a damn about his family name.

his brother–his proud, arrogant, stubborn, awful brother–had made his opinion on their family name very clear, by just leaving.

hoshina did resent him for it, just a little. it just meant that he couldn’t run away, now.

“no. the concubine rumor’s bullshit,” hoshina says. “quite honestly, i couldn’t be bothered. i’m not in the interest of producing my family an heir.”

“huh?” you ask, sounding confused. “but–” “i mean. the sex is fine,” hoshina says candidly, placidly. “and if the family gets an heir, we get an heir. but it’s never been my concern. i think you ought not to worry about it, either. our families need each other. it’ll be reason enough for you to stay.”

you stare at him, perplexed for the moment, before your brow also furrows.

“so, you… don’t, want—”

“mm. you pulled a knife on me last time we talked,” hoshina teases as he begins to undo his ponytail. “i thought that made your opinion on me fairly clear. i won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable if you don’t want it. my folks won’t be happy, but there’s nothing like lying that can’t fix that.” he runs a hand through his hair. “so it’s your call.”

you watch him.

“it’s fine,” you say. you lean in closer to him, and he simply watches you—watches you like he did on the first day the two of you met, watches you like he did when you raised the dagger to his throat. always watching, waiting for you to make the first move.

“i’d rather just get it over with,” you say. “the first time.”

“mm. as you command, then,” hoshina says.

when he leans in to kiss you, he does it slowly. you taste faintly of the sake you drank during the marriage ceremony, though the alcohol has long worn off.

he wishes he could take you apart more cleanly. to take you apart with intention. he can draw the lines from the veins in your wrist to the beating, fluttering of your heart in your breast. you kiss him with your eyes open, as if you’re watching for his every movement. he supposes that he’s watching you, too, trying to see what you’ll do. what you like.

“are you just going to kiss me?” you murmur, something like spite in your voice. “or are you actually going to show me something interesting?”

“interesting?” he pulls back from the kiss, raising an eyebrow.

“i’ve read all the woodcuts,” you say. “as apparently was my duty as your wife. i was just wondering if there was anything more interesting than that.”

“mm. you can’t possibly learn what it feels like through reading alone,” hoshina says. “experience is the best teacher.”

“big talk,” you retort. hoshina almost hates the way his heart flutters at your words, entranced by you. one hand reaches out to touch your face, the other hand gently reaching down to undo your obi as he pulls you closer to him, letting you straddle his lap.

“i’m afraid most of my lovers say i’m a talkative one,” hoshina purrs. “but i hope you’ll find me satisfactory.” when he leans in to kiss you again, your sash falls gently onto the ground, and the inner layers of your kimono come undone.

he’s had no small share of lovers—or, well, general brothel experience, he supposes. he’s a man in the end—a samurai from a family of renown, for whom many lovers might have found him appealing simply for how much money he was willing to pay for good service. but he knows what he’s doing, in any case.

he revels in it, though—at how responsive and jittery you seem to be. the faintest touch of his hand against your skin is enough to make you jolt out of your skin, and you whimper ever so slightly as his fingers pull at a nipple, and he feels your pulse jump in your throat as his teeth graze at your neck. he feels you shift against him, attempt to press your thighs together and he laughs.

he’s surprised there, too—the way you shudder when he laughs, as he’s pressed against you.

when his fingers seek between your legs, he’s thrilled, but still surprised to find the telltale sign of slick.

“mm. this wet already, really?” hoshina teases. his hand brushes against your inner thigh, coaxing you to spread your legs a little more, and he feels your leg twitch against the shift of his knuckles. “you’re desperate.”

“as if.” your breath sounds shuddery, and hoshina laughs, not meanly. he wonders how he could take you apart—could he use just his mouth? his fingers? the mere suggestion of touching you, just using words alone? he wanted to know, desperately so. desperately in the same way he wanted to know your heart, if only you’d let him. but in the meantime, he smiles—and it’s more of a smirk.

he takes his fingers to his mouth, sucking the wetness from his fingers, and he revels in the way you flush, a half-scandalized and half-flustered sound escaping your mouth.

“it’s alright,” hoshina says, teasing.

“i don’t—need you to tell me it’s alright,” you say, flustered. “i just—”

“less talking from you,” hoshina says, fondly. gently. he’s entranced by you, the swell of your breast and the way your skin flushes red from your neck to your collarbones. he wishes he could sink his teeth into your pulse—or would you give him your beating heart, let him devour the tender organ? “you’re doing wonderfully. do you feel up for more?”

you pause, biting your lip. he marvels at the way your fingers twitch against his in anticipation, and your brow furrows.

“let—i want to be on top,” you say, and hoshina simply smiles.

“alright,” he acquiesces. “i’m all yours.”

that much was true. he was learning far too quickly that he was very much a man that would follow you anywhere, that he was at your beck and call.

you help him undress with shaking hands, pulling his belt away and pushing the kimono from his shoulders. your hands stop for a moment as you survey his chest—hoshina watches your face, propped back and leaning back on his hands. your fingers press against a deep scar against his chest, and your eyes meet his.

“long story,” hoshina says softly. “not the kind i’d tell my wife on our first night together, anyhow.”

your hand gently touches his cock and he hisses, practically, wincing at how it feels like too much and not much at all. it takes most of his discipline to not rut up into the touch, to let himself be taken by that pleasure. you gently push him back, letting him lie back against the futon.

as you lower yourself slowly onto his cock, hoshina watches as your fingers flex against his chest, your eyes squeeze and your toes desperately curl. he shifts his hips a little bit, and you whimper.

“don’t tease,” you keen.

“m’not.”

hoshina thinks it’s quite the opposite, really. he’s a patient man, but not this patient. you’re about halfway down his cock at this point, slowly taking him in bit by bit—and then his patience just snaps somehow when he hears you whine again. not in a bad way—just in a he’ll fucking die like this, he’s sure kind of way.

you gasp immediately as he thrusts up, causing you to bottom out. your hips meet his, and you lean your head back, a loud and desperate moan leaving your lips.

“y-you awful man,” you moan out, something like a pout in your tone. “i wanted to take my time—”

“mm—hm. sorry,” hoshina teases, not quite apologetic at all. his voice strains a bit—you feel almost like a fire, your cunt desperately squeezing against his cock. “just don’t think i’ll last long with you squeezing me like this. does it feel that good?”

your face flushes, your hair plastered to your forehead.

“shut up.”

“i’ll take that as a yes, then,” hoshina says, unrepentant in the way he thrusts up into you, reveling in the way you respond to each movement with tiny little whimpers that stretch into longer and longer cries. you don’t say his name, but he finds himself uncaring for the moment. does he wish you’d say his name? does he wish, however selfishly, that this moment might burn itself into your memory?

surely he doesn’t. it would be unbecoming of him to ask that much.

your hand leans out, digging into his skin, and he lets out a soft, raspy breath, taking your hand into his.

“‘m close,” you whimper out through shaking breaths, and hoshina’s heart squeezes again, at the way your hips cant against his, as if each touch almost hurts, but you can’t help but continue to press your hips against his, trying to find more traction. hoshina smirks, his free hand reaching out to thumb at your clit, flicking upwards, and tries to see if he can memorize the way you seize up against him, the way you squeeze down on his cock–tries to see if he can memorize every twitch.

he hopes he can.

you cum soon after, and your hand digs into his so hard that he wonders if you might be able to break his fingers one day–and hopes that you can. he holds you tightly against him, letting you ride out the waves of your orgasm as you whimper tiny uh, uh, uhs–until you wince.

“hurts, i–please,” you say, and hoshina takes pity on you for the moment, pulls out, and strokes soothingly at your face. your chest heaves, and hoshina thinks he could get lost in your every motion. as hoshina shifts to move away–he’d rather prioritize your comfort over his in the end, so despite the fact that he was hard to the point it almost hurt, he figured he’d just deal with it on his own—you shift up.

“but you–you didn’t,” you say after a moment, grabbing his wrist.

“hm?” hoshina hums. “mm. don’t worry about me, dear. i’m more than capable of–fuck, you–” his voice halts right as your hand wraps around his cock, your thumb grazing over the head of it ever so gently. “fuck. you-you don’t have to–”

“please,” you say, something like disdain–or spite? or something, he really couldn’t tell–in your voice. “i can do this much.”

he cums embarrassingly fast–the mixture of being so strung out at this point, so strangely affected, enamored by you–and he can’t help but laugh. he wants to press his face into your collarbone, but he can’t bring himself to cross the distance. he hums, instead, simply exhaling through his teeth for a moment.

“get some rest,” hoshina says. he watches as your face shifts ever so slightly–and he wishes he knew you better, if only so he could understand what you were thinking.

“alright,” you say.

hoshina fears he’s in love.

but the part of him that knows better says he shouldn’t be. he watches silvery moonlight paint the planes of your back, and you turn away from him, lost in sleep.

he sighs.

#kaiju no 8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #x reader #kn8 x reader #kn8 smut

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threeacttragedy · 11 days ago

Text

Entry 7: The One Where the Queen Asked, “Did That Go the Way You Thought It Was Gonna Go?”

I’m probably one of the few people in this fandom who find Antonia entertaining.

Goddammit – put down your fucking pitchforks!

I didn’t say I liked her – I simply said I found her entertaining.

If Antonia’s existence bothers the fuck out of you, you’ll likely enjoy my commentary here.

*And, right about here is when I’ll slip in my disclaimer: this is my opinion only; merely speculation based on information that is out there in the public realm.

Now, where was I?

Oh, yes, Antonia. I don’t find her entertaining because I think she’s a great dancer. Is she? You tell me. I mean, I have two left feet so just about anyone is better than me.

And, I have never seen a picture or video where she’s made me “like” her as a person. In fact, she comes off more like a villain, but not a brilliant villain (I might like her, then). She’s more like an Iago to, say, Deux Mois’ Jafar.

I just find her so fucking reckless, but in the most amusing way possible. If she were a movie, I’d give her 4/5 stars. The movie would be a low-budget comedy, of course.

In my opinion, she loves to troll the fandom and I’m convinced she must have notifications turned on for Nicola. The patterns started patterning early on during the World Tour (and probably before). The problem is, she’s just not great at trolling. Her attempts always fall flat, and she ends up making herself look like, well, a tryhard (hence why her movie only gets 4/5 stars).

I’m not sure what Antonia ever was to Luke but, at a minimum, I will (begrudgingly) say they dated. I know some people don’t want to hear that, but she was a player in this game for a reason. Rumor also suggests she, at the very least, squatted in Luke’s flat (and I don’t mean in THAT way).

That said, I believe she was officially taken out of the game at the end of July. However, that doesn’t mean she wasn’t still making noise from the sidelines.

One of the most humorous (in my opinion) “rah rahs” Antonia pulled was on September 28 when she posted some stories of herself at a theatre. I’m not sure if she could have been any more obvious when trying to show us her phone screen. The screen was lit up, her thumb pressed against it, and angled almost directly at the person taking the picture. We get it, honey. You want us to see what’s on your screen. Not surprisingly, it appeared to be a blurry ass picture of Luke.

Big whoop, right? Well, actually it was because the Conscientiously Stupid took this as confirmation Luke and Antonia were together (again) and the Sincerely Ignorant swallowed their cyanide pills without water (again). And, the Fact Finders, while trying to resuscitate their dearly beloved Sincerely Ignorant friends foaming at their mouths, immediately called “bullshit” (again). The picture appeared to be old and, to be honest, it was too blurry to tell who was on the screen – although I will concede it could have been Luke. In fact, I tend to believe it was an old picture of Luke based on what happened next.

The problem with Antonia’s play style is that she doesn’t seem to catch on to the rules. She moves her pawn two spaces because she can, not because it advances her game. She has this nasty habit of ignoring, say, the opposing party’s pawn, which is in position to en passant her overly confident pawn.

Nicola had been living high on life throughout the month of September, which, in my opinion, is quite possibly the reason why Antonia seemed a bit unhinged by the end of the month (jealousy can make us do crazy shit). Among other things, Nicola had the Emmy’s (and the Wordle), the Gucci show, and, on October 1, she was presenting Simone with a Glamour Award. By this point, I believe Nicola had had enough of Antonia’s gameplay. The phone screen had struck a chord.

So, what does Nicola do?

She plays the game right back but not like she normally does with Scrabble boards, Dewy Skin Creams, and BTS wedding footage dropped at the perfect moment. This time, she does it with a power move that left her hands virtually spotless.

On October 3, Halley Brisker, Nicola’s frequent hairstylist, posted a set of four pictures to his Instagram grid, three of which showed Nicola casually posing for the camera and one showing Nicola in the process of having her hair done. It was the latter picture (#3/4 in the slide deck) that perked every Lukolas’ ears.

Low and behold sat a man, his face conveniently covered by a hairdresser’s arm, but his hands in full view. Hands that, at this point, we (embarrassingly) know too well. To date, no one has debunked the theory – more like, assertion – that the man in the picture is Luke.

Nicola liked this post by Halley, and even commented, “You legend [red heart emoji].” You’re welcome to read between the lines on that one.

I’ve always believed this Halley Brisker photo dump was Nicola’s very clever, albeit indirect, way of telling Antonia, “Checkmate, bitch.”

The point of this entry is not to convince you that Antonia is a red herring (she is), or that Luke is in the Halley Brisker photo dump (he is), or that Nicola plays the game better than most (she does). No, the point of this entry is to tell you Antonia’s game is over (because it is). Antonia lost.

So why does she remain on the roster?

Because, collectively, we as fans keep her there, sitting along the sidelines in her collapsable camp chair making noise with her cowbell. We pay attention to what she posts. We talk about what she posts. We argue over what she posts. We panic about what she posts. WE keep her in the game.

How about we don’t?

Why not start off this week with a positive change? And, not just for the USS Lukola, but for yourself as well.

If you’re following Antonia on social media (for sinister reasons) – stop. Meander over to Instagram, X, Tiktok, whatever, and unfollow her. Don’t look back. Stop checking her page. If you see or hear she has a new post, ignore it. Move on. The first day will be hard. But, the second day will be easier. You know where I’m going with this…

I mean, Luke can’t quietly unfollow her if we’re constantly looking in that direction, right?

P.S. If you need more convincing that Antonia’s shelf life has expired, I have a CliffsNotes response for that: https://www.tumblr.com/threeacttragedy/767137910999957504/great-blog-but-if-all-was-not-good-with-l-and-a?source=share.

P.P.S. Moving forward, I don’t give two boiled rabbits about what Antonia does. I will most certainly refer back to her in a historical sense (she does fill in bits and pieces of the Lukola timeline), but if she posts a crockpot tomorrow, don’t expect me to comment on what could be in it.

P.P.P.S. If you have any understanding of what the little chessboard I’ve dropped in to my picture means, I salute you.

#lukola #luke newton #nicola coughlan #my thoughts #speculation only #my opinion

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wethotcrazy · 11 days ago

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Tsunoda or Verstappen x princess reader where the media catches them?

Max Verstappen’s Mystery Girlfriend Revealed—She’s a Princess!

pairing: Max Verstappen x Princess! Reader

word count: 951

a little short fic im a little unsure of this but i think its cute. i have never written for max so i hope you like it.

The hum of engines filled the air as the Belgium Grand Prix roared to life, the energy palpable even beyond the track. It was in this electric atmosphere that Max Verstappen, Red Bull’s ace driver and reigning Formula 1 champion, first crossed paths with Princess Y/N of a small but wealthy European kingdom. She wasn’t there for pomp or ceremony, but for her unshakable love of motorsports. Her fascination with engineering had brought her into the paddock, under the guise of a “guest of honor,” though she was far more interested in torque ratios than champagne receptions.

Max had noticed her standing near the Red Bull garage, her eyes sparkling as she watched the pit crew fine-tune his RB19. She wasn’t like the other VIPs who came to the paddock for photo ops. She asked questions—intelligent ones—about the aerodynamics of the car and how it adapted to the tricky Spa-Francorchamps circuit. When she turned to him and asked, “How does it feel to handle Eau Rouge at full throttle?” Max couldn’t help but grin.

“Pretty thrilling,” he replied, his Dutch accent softening his words. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

She blushed but didn’t shy away. “I might’ve simulated it once or twice,” she admitted, and Max’s laughter was genuine.

From that moment on, they were inseparable that weekend. Between practice sessions and qualifying, Max found himself looking for Y/N in the crowd, her royal guards standing at a respectful distance while she chatted animatedly with engineers. She was intelligent, quick-witted, and refreshingly down-to-earth for someone who could probably claim ownership of a castle or two.

By the end of the weekend, they had exchanged numbers. What started as lighthearted banter and shared interests evolved into long, late-night calls discussing everything from racing to the struggles of living under the public eye. Max learned that Y/N had been fascinated by motorsports since she was a child, but her royal duties had always kept her at arm’s length from the world she loved. Y/N, in turn, found Max’s straightforwardness and his dedication to his craft intoxicating.

From then on, Max and Y/N were inseparable. Between races and royal engagements, they carved out moments just for themselves. Sometimes it was a late-night call after a long day, Max’s voice soothing as he recounted the chaos of the paddock. Other times, it was quiet afternoons strolling through parks in cities they barely knew, their laughter blending into the rustle of leaves.

Max was careful not to share too much in public, but he couldn’t entirely hide his happiness. In interviews, he would casually mention his “girlfriend” with a sly smile, never elaborating but always leaving fans buzzing. Clips of him dropping hints circulated endlessly on social media, fueling theories and debates about who the mysterious woman could be.

Their secret didn’t last forever.

It happened one sunny afternoon in Monaco, where Max and Y/N were enjoying a rare day off together. A candid photo surfaced online of them sitting on the edge of the marina, her hand resting lightly on his knee as they watched the boats sway in the harbor.

The internet exploded. “Max Verstappen’s Mystery Girlfriend Revealed—She’s a Princess!” read one headline. Others followed, speculating wildly about their relationship.

For a moment, the world seemed to close in. Reporters hounded them both, and social media was flooded with opinions—some supportive, others less so.

Max, however, remained unfazed. During the next press conference, when asked about the rumors, he simply shrugged. “We’re happy,” he said, his voice steady. “That’s all that matters to me.”Y/N faced her own challenges. Her advisors worried about the implications of such a public relationship, but she met their concerns with quiet resolve. “Max is kind, driven, and genuine,” she told them firmly. “He makes me happy. This is not up for discussion.”

Despite the noise, they didn’t let the spotlight dim their connection. Instead, it seemed to strengthen their bond. Y/N became a quiet force in Max’s corner, offering him calm reassurance during stressful race weekends. Max, in turn, encouraged Y/N to pursue her passion for engineering, helping her connect with teams and experts in the field. Their love only grew stronger in the face of scrutiny. Between the whirlwind of races and royal duties, they found comfort in each other. Y/N often joined Max in the paddock, where she quickly became a beloved presence. Mechanics respected her keen interest in their work, while Max’s team appreciated the grounding influence she brought to his often-hectic life.

On their quieter days, they escaped the chaos entirely. Max taught her how to kart, laughing as she spun out on the first few laps but cheering her on when she finally nailed a clean run. Y/N, in turn, introduced him to her world—showing him the intricacies of royal life and sneaking him into her palace’s private library, where they would talk for hours.

At the Austrian Grand Prix, Max took her on a private tour of the Red Bull factory. Watching her excitement as she examined the intricate details of the car made his heart swell. “You’re amazing,” he told her, his voice filled with awe.

Though their story seemed unlikely to outsiders, it made perfect sense to them. They shared a love for pushing limits, for the thrill of speed and the beauty of innovation. Most importantly, they found in each other a kindred spirit—someone who understood the weight of expectation but refused to let it define them.

And so, they continued forward, hand in hand, their hearts racing not just for the thrill of the track or the demands of the crown, but for each other.

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gatorbites-imagines · 1 year ago

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Hobie x deadpool reader or spider reader

Hobie Brown x Deadpool male reader

Headcanons

I love Deadpool, who doesn’t love Deadpool? I tried to think of what Deadpool would be like in Hobies’ earth, and I just feel like he would kinda just be the same as always, except maybe with a metal aesthetic. And any chance to work my favorite music into stuff? I’m taking it.

You were Deadpool, and had been Deadpool for a long time. In the beginning it had just been your musician and artist name. Much of your music was different types of metal, with lyrics focused on judging the system and pointing fingers at its corruption.

Of course, a lot of people hated your music, but there was also those who loved it. One of them being Hobie Brown. Even before he became spiderman, hed always been a very righteous person with strong opinions about corruption and capitalism, so finding an artist who shared his views was great.

That was until you got a little too popular and stepped on the wrong people’s toes with your music and art. When you started pointing fingers at Osborn and his wild corruption, those against you grew more and more violent.

And at one of your biggest concerts to date, one that offered all the proceeds to those in need, you were assassinated right on stage. Theories would go around saying it was Osborn wanting to get rid of you, and telling everyone what would happen if they crossed him.

Panic consumed the arena after you were shot right on stage, and in the panic your body was whisked away. Deadpool became an icon in the anarchist circle, as one of the first to stand up against suppression and never back down no matter what.

Time would pass, Hobie would become Spiderman, and he would fight people like Osborn, even killing the guy with his guitar in the end.

But even after killing Osborn, the world was still in disarray, meaning a lot of work had to be done. So, when someone who went by Deadpool started popping up in stories and rumors, it caught people’s attention.

It was assumed you were just a fan, who wanted to use the legendary name of Deadpool to spread your message, or maybe the honor the original Deadpool. That was until people met you though.

You had the same clothes, only now wearing a mask. Your boots, your jacket, your spikes, and patches, even your guitar, you had it all. And on closer inspection, true fans could see it was the real thing.

You were almost like a ghost of the past, stories would go around that you were the angered spirit of the musician Deadpool, having crawled out of hell to wreak havoc on the upper class and tear out the roots of capitalism.

Hobie would want to meet you of course, you were like his hero and biggest inspiration. The first time you two would meet would be during a fight of some sort, and you’d chuck your guitar across the battlefield to nail a corrupt cop in the head before they could get a lucky shot at Hobie.

After that you two became close like two peas in a pod. Hobie would never treat you like you were someone above him, even though he had admired you for years, because he doesn’t believe in treating celebrities like gods.

Soon Deadpool and Spiderman being spotted together was a common sight, and so was seeing spiderman swing around with Deadpool in his arms or hanging on his back like a koala.

You never really take off your mask in the beginning, but when you do Hobie learns why you keep it on. You have a large scar taking up part of your head where the bullet had blown your head apart all that time ago.

You had apparently always been a mutant with a light healing factor, which had kept you alive, but you had been whisked away from Osborn researchers who wanted to use your healing factor. But in the end, they’d simply boosted your powers and you became pretty much unkillable.

This leads to you taking most of the hits during battle, since you can easily take it, anything you lose will just grow back. That doesn’t stop Hobie from worrying though, because seeing someone get their arm sliced off is pretty extreme.

Your first kiss is something you’d only have with a version of Deadpool. Hobie would be carrying your head after it’s been sliced off, and you would be asking him for a kiss and blowing him kisses from where hes carrying your head.

Now, anyone normal wouldn’t do what Hobie does, but Hobie doesn’t like to fit the mold. So, he would lift your severed but still living head and kiss you on the lips. Cue a make out until your body stumbles over and you can get your head back on.

You two never actually put a label to what you are, because that’s not the type of person you two are. But you two are pretty much dating now. You move into an apartment together, and sleep in the same bed at night, and kiss whenever you want.

Spiderman and Deadpool pretty much become icons in your community, for standing up towards oppression, and also being two hot guys who hold concerts after fights.

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elladreams · 3 months ago

Text

The Perfect Setup (Zandvoort) // LN4

summary: Zandvoort '24. A young engineering prodigy, recruited by McLaren to solve complex F1 challenges, grapples with media scrutiny and an undeniable chemistry with driver Lando Norris. As tensions rise during a crucial race, they must balance professional duty with their growing personal connection.

warnings: she/her reader, smut (18+), unprotected (shower 😳) sex, size kink.

words: 6.9K

The roar of engines filled the air, a symphony of power and precision that reverberated through the paddock. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline mixed with the salty breeze from the nearby coast, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that signaled another race was about to begin. The McLaren garage was a hive of activity—mechanics making last-minute adjustments, engineers poring over data, and drivers mentally preparing for the challenge ahead. Amidst the controlled chaos, you stood, a pillar of calm in a world of speed.

You have always stood out, a prodigy in a field where experience often outweighed talent. But here you were, at the heart of one of the most prestigious teams in Formula 1, your hands and mind guiding the finely-tuned machinery that could make or break a race. At just twenty-two, you were already a respected figure in the paddock, known for your brilliance in engineering and your unyielding dedication to the sport.

Your family had sacrificed so much to help you reach your potential. You were always miles ahead of the other kids. While they were playing with dolls or video games, you were more interested in how those things worked. At six years old, you were already taking apart remote control cars, not to play with them, but to understand the intricate systems that made them move. By the time you were ten, you were building small engines from scratch, fascinated by the power and precision of mechanical systems.

Your parents quickly realized they had a prodigy on their hands. They encouraged your curiosity, enrolling you in expensive science and engineering programs meant for kids much older than you. You thrived in these environments, always eager to learn more, to push the boundaries of what you could create. By the time you were a teenager, you had already won several national engineering competitions, earning a reputation as a young genius in the world of mechanics.

When you first discovered Formula 1, everything changed. The speed, the technology, the sheer complexity of the cars—it captivated you like nothing else. You devoured everything you could find about F1 engineering, learning about aerodynamics, power units, and the delicate balance between speed and control. While other teenage girls were dreaming of prom dresses and much older boyfriends , you were dreaming of being in the garage, fine-tuning the machines that drove the world of motorsport.

Your parents knew that pursuing a career in F1 was a long shot, especially for a young woman, but they supported you every step of the way. They worked multiple jobs and sacrificed their own dreams so that you could chase yours.

Thankfully, your talent didn’t go unnoticed. By the time you were 16, you had caught the attention of several top engineers in the F1 world, earning an internship with Mercedes. You quickly made a name for yourself as a technical genius, capable of understanding and improving complex systems that seasoned engineers struggled with. The paddock buzzed with stories of the young girl who was instrumental in Mercedes' dominance.

With your newfound fame came an onslaught of media attention. Reporters from major news outlets were relentless, hounding you for interviews and prying into every aspect of your life. They asked invasive questions about your personal relationships, sought your opinions on the sport's latest controversies, and even pressed you to address misogynistic rumors linking you romantically with certain drivers. The spotlight, once a place of professional pride, had become a battlefield where your every word was scrutinized, and your achievements were often overshadowed by baseless gossip.

Zak Brown fought tooth and nail to bring you to McLaren, recognizing that you were the missing piece they needed to conquer the new regulations. When it became clear that the team was struggling to master the latest specifications, he knew they needed someone with your unique blend of technical expertise and innovative thinking. Zak saw in you a mind that could bridge the gap between theory and practice, someone who could not only understand the intricacies of the new rules but also translate them into real-world performance on the track.

But today, on the day of Max Verstappen's home race, there was an unmistakable charge in the air—tensions were higher, the stakes more personal. It wasn’t just another race; it was a proving ground, not only for the car but for you, the team, and especially for the driver who had become both your greatest challenge and your fiercest ally: Lando Norris.

Lando, the young, fiercely talented star of McLaren, had a natural charm that made him a media darling, but it was his relentless drive to win that truly defined him. From the moment you joined the team, your relationship with Lando had been anything but smooth. Your strong wills collided over every detail, every decision. He saw you as a nuisance, someone who constantly questioned his instincts and pushed him beyond his comfort zone. To you, Lando was stubborn, even arrogant at times—a driver who needed to understand that perfection on the track wasn't just about raw talent but about achieving the perfect synergy between man and machine. And today, that’s exactly what you were trying to achieve.

Standing in the garage, you reviewed the data on your tablet for what felt like the hundredth time. You had pulled an all-nighter, fine-tuning an experimental setup that you believed could give Lando the edge he needed on this notoriously challenging circuit. But convincing him to trust your untested approach was another matter.

Lando stormed into the garage, the top part of his race suit hanging low on his hips revealing his fire proofs, his expression a mix of frustration and determination. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, glancing at the setup specs displayed on the screen. “This is what you’ve been working on all night?”

“Yes,” you replied, meeting his gaze without flinching. “This setup could give you the downforce you need through the corners without sacrificing speed on the straights. I’ve run the simulations a dozen times—it works.”

“Simulations?” Lando scoffed, running a hand through his curls in agitation. “Simulations aren’t the same as the real thing. We can’t afford to take risks like this, not here, not today.”

“This isn’t a risk, Lando,” you shot back, your voice steady despite the tension. “This is a calculated decision based on hard data. I wouldn’t be recommending it if I didn’t believe it would make a difference.”

He crossed his arms, his jaw set in that stubborn way you’d come to recognize all too well. “You’re asking me to trust a setup we’ve never used in a race, in front of Max’s home crowd, no less. What if it doesn’t work? What if it costs me the race?”

“And what if it wins you the race?” you countered, stepping closer to him. “You know as well as I do that playing it safe isn’t going to cut it against Verstappen on his home turf. We need every advantage we can get, and this setup is that advantage.”

Lando stared at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. But you didn’t waver. You believed in this setup, and more importantly, you believed in him.

Finally, he relented, nodding slowly. "Fine. But if this doesn’t work, I swear I will never let you live it down."

“It will” you interrupted, a small tired smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’ll be right there with you, making sure it does.”

A ghost of a smirk played on his face, his eyes betraying the glimmer of a sparkle. For a moment, the garage was silent, the two of you standing closer than you realized, caught in the intensity of the moment. The intoxicating blend of his dark, amber-scented perfume mingled with the unmistakable and familiar scent of the paddock, created a heady aroma that threatened to cloud your senses entirely.

Your breath hitched as his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a fraction of a second before flicking back up to your eyes. You could feel your cheeks burning as his gaze caressed you.

Lando cleared his throat, breaking the spell and stepping back.

"Well, let's get this done." he said, his usual light tone returning as he ran a hand through his hair again. "Wouldn't want to keep the adoring crowd waiting." He winked.

You rolled your eyes and smiled, thankful for the change in energy.

You both turned back to the screen to finalize the setup adjustments. As you worked side by side, the air between you felt different—not just charged with the usual tension, but with a deeper, more intimate connection. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped, and you had moved from being teammates to something more.

The race was minutes away, but for the first time, you felt like you were truly part of a team—Lando’s team. And that, more than anything, was what mattered. The moments before the race were a blur of final checks and hurried conversations. You stood by Lando’s car, your heart pounding with adrenaline, not just from the intensity of the race but from something deeper—something you were trying desperately not to acknowledge. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the Zandvoort Circuit, you caught Lando’s eye. He was already in his race suit, helmet in hand, but there was a softness in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you’d both been dancing around for months.

The starting grid was tense with anticipation. Lando had secured pole position in a spectacular qualifying session, and the team was buzzing with excitement. But everyone knew this race wouldn’t be easy—not with Verstappen starting right behind him, eager to impress his home crowd.

The lights went out, and the roar of the engines filled the air as the cars launched off the line. Lando got a good start, but so did Verstappen. As they barreled into the first corner, Verstappen made a daring move, diving down the inside and taking the lead. The crowd erupted in cheers, the sea of orange on its feet as their hometown hero took charge.

“Hold steady,” you whispered under your breath, your eyes glued to the screen. Lando had lost the lead, but the race was far from over.

The next few laps were a blur of precision and strategy. Lando stayed close to Verstappen, not letting him get away, but it was clear that the McLaren’s setup was allowing him to conserve his tires while maintaining pace. The tension was palpable, every corner, every straight a testament to the fine-tuning you and the team had worked so hard to perfect.

As the race approached its midpoint, an opportunity presented itself. Verstappen, pushing hard to maintain his lead, began to show signs of tire degradation. You watched the data closely, your fingers gripping the edge of the console.

“This is it, Lando,” you said over the radio, your voice steady but laced with anticipation. “His tires are gone. You’ve got this.”

Lando didn’t respond, but you knew he’d heard you. His driving became more aggressive, more precise, as he closed the gap to Verstappen. And then, on lap 47, the moment you’d been waiting for arrived. Lando set himself up perfectly coming out of Turn 9, using the slipstream to his advantage. As they approached the hairpin, he made his move, diving down the inside with the confidence of a driver who knew his car—and his own abilities—were more than a match for the challenge.

He retook the lead, and this time, he wasn’t about to let it go.

“Nicely done, Lando!” you cheered into the radio, unable to keep the excitement out of your voice. The entire team erupted in applause, but your focus remained on the car, on the driver who had just reminded everyone why he was one of the best.

The final laps were a masterclass in control. Lando maintained his lead, keeping Max at bay and managing his tires to perfection, while also building a substantial gap. As he crossed the finish line, taking the checkered flag, the McLaren garage exploded in celebration.

“You did it, Lando! You won!” The words burst out of you, the relief and joy evident in every syllable.

Lando’s voice crackled over the radio, filled with the same emotion. “We did it. The car came alive.” A flush of pride warmed your cheeks. This was your win, too—your idea, your hard work, your dedication to perfection.

As Lando pulled into the pit lane, the world seemed to slow down. He stepped out of the car, removing his helmet to reveal a smile that lit up his entire face. You had joined the team to celebrate alongside Lando. Before you knew it, he was walking toward you, his eyes locked onto yours. The team was cheering, clapping him on the back, but Lando didn’t stop until he was right in front of you. He reached out, taking your hand in his, the contact sending a jolt through you.

“Thank you.” He said simply, the words full of meaning.

Your smile widened as you squeezed his hand, the rush of adrenaline and pride filling you with a new kind of certainty. In this moment, the only thing that mattered was him, and you. You squeezed his hand, your heart racing not from the adrenaline of the race, but from the intensity of the moment between you. “Thank you for trusting me, Lando.”

There was a brief silence, the noise of the celebration fading into the background as the world narrowed to just the two of you. Then, with a quick glance around as if to check that no one was watching too closely, Lando leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, his breath warm against your skin.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he repeated, a whisper that sent your heart into overdrive.

You smiled, feeling the warmth spread through you. “And we’ll do it again.”

The race had been a victory, but this moment—standing with Lando, the connection between you undeniable—felt like something even more precious. It was the start of something new, something that went beyond the garage and the racetrack.

—-

The podium celebration had been nothing short of electrifying. The roar of the crowd, the spray of champagne, and the sight of Lando beaming as he hoisted the trophy high above his head was a moment you knew you would never forget. As the McLaren team gathered to celebrate, you found yourself on the podium alongside Lando, representing the team that had worked tirelessly to secure this victory. It was a whirlwind of emotions—pride and undeniable joy.

But as you made your way back to the garage drenched in Ferrari champagne, the adrenaline of the win still pulsing through your veins, you rounded a corner and nearly collided with Chiara, McLaren’s senior PR manager. Her usually composed expression was tense, and you could tell immediately that she had something on her mind.

“Great job out there,” Chiara started, her voice measured but tinged with concern. “The team couldn’t be happier, but we need to talk.” Your stomach sank as a sense of foreboding crept over you. Chiara had been your main point of contact for media communication since joining the team, and you knew that if she was this worried, it must be something serious. You felt a knot form in your stomach. The way she was looking at you told you that this wasn’t just about the race. “What’s on your mind, Chiara?”

She glanced around, making sure no one else was within earshot, then pulled you aside into a quieter corner of the garage. “Look, I don’t want to rain on your parade, but we need to be careful about how things appear. The media and fans are already buzzing about you and Lando, especially after that little moment after the finish.”

Your mind flashed back to the celebration, to the kiss on the cheek Lando had given you, the way his hand had lingered on yours just a bit longer than necessary. It had felt private, special, but of course, nothing was truly private in the world of Formula 1, especially not when the cameras were always rolling.

“You know how it is,” Chiara continued, her tone softening slightly. “Fans are passionate, and the media loves a good story. They’ll spin anything to make headlines. I’m not saying you can’t have…whatever it is you have with Lando, but we need to manage the optics. The last thing we want is for this to distract from the team’s success.”

You nodded, understanding her concerns. The last thing you wanted was to give the press ammunition to turn your hard-earned victory into tabloid fodder. But the idea of keeping your newfound feelings for Lando hidden, of pretending there was nothing between you, felt like a bitter pill to swallow.

“I get it, Chiara,” you said finally, meeting her gaze with determination. “I’m not going to let them turn this into a scandal. Lando and I…we’re professionals first. We’ll handle this.”

Chiara smiled, relieved by your response. “I know you will. Just keep in mind that perception is everything in this sport. And right now, you both have the world’s attention.”

With that, Chiara gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before heading off to her next order of business. You stood there, rooted to the spot for a moment, letting her words sink in. The exhilaration of the victory still buzzed through you, but it was now tinged with the sobering reality of the situation. The weight of her advice pressed down on your shoulders, reminding you that nothing in this world came without its complications.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, dislodging tiny droplets of champagne that sprayed out like glittering confetti. The sticky remnants of the podium celebration clung to you, a tangible reminder of the night’s highs. What you needed now was a serious shower—something to wash away not just the champagne, but the lingering tension from your conversation with Chiara.

As you made your way toward the team’s private quarters, the hum of activity in the paddock slowly faded, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Chiara’s words echoed in your mind, a reminder of the reality you both lived in—a world where every glance, every gesture, could be dissected and spun into a narrative you had little control over. The media would indeed be relentless, and the fans, always watching, would be insatiable in their curiosity. But how could you distance yourself from something—or someone—that had become so central to your life, to your happiness? The chemestry you shared with Lando was undeniable, and no amount of PR maneuvering could erase what you felt for him.

As you reached the lockers, you turned on the shower, eagerly anticipating the soothing warmth of the water to ease the tension knotted in your muscles. The promise of relief was a welcome thought after the intensity of the day.

You let out a small sigh, beginning to discard your champagne-soaked clothes. The polo that had clung to your skin now felt heavy, both physically and metaphorically, as you peeled it off and tossed it into the laundry bin. The day’s victories and challenges seemed to weigh on you all at once. The exhilaration of the win, the tension with Lando, the quiet moments where everything between you felt so effortless—they all mingled in your mind, creating a cocktail of emotions that left you feeling both intoxicated and exhausted.

You stood there for a moment, stripped down to your underwear, the cool air of the locker room a welcome contrast to the heat of the day. Lost in thought, you hadn’t even noticed Lando entering until you felt his presence, a subtle shift in the air that made the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The realization of how exposed you were hit you all at once—half-naked and vulnerable in more ways than one.

Your first instinct was to cover yourself, but something in the way Lando looked at you made you pause. His eyes, darker now with an intensity that was impossible to ignore, roamed over your body, lingering on the curves and lines revealed by your lack of clothing. The heat that flushed your cheeks had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the way his gaze set your skin ablaze. You couldn't meet his gaze fully, not when you were absolutely sure it would burn you from the inside.

He murmured your name, his voice low, vibrating with a tension that matched the fire in his eyes. The way he said it, the way his gaze traced over you, made it feel like a caress. “Look at me.”

There was a challenge in his tone, and you met it head-on, your breath catching as your eyes locked with his. In the fluorescent lighting of the locker room, his features seemed more defined, his jawline sharper, his lips fuller.

There was no mistaking the desire that simmered just beneath the surface, a reflection of the same need that pulsed through your veins. It was as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you, the space between you crackling with a chemistry that had been building for far too long.

Lando took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours, and with each inch he closed, the air around you seemed to thicken, heavy with anticipation. He was close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the scent of his skin—champagne and amber with a hint of the adrenaline that still lingered from the race—filling your senses.

The silence stretched between you, and yet, it was as if an entire conversation was taking place, unspoken but understood. Every fiber of your being was attuned to him, the tension between you palpable. "I can practically hear that big brain of yours working overtime." he said, his voice even lower now, almost a rumble. His hand reached out, fingertips brushing lightly against your arm, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake. The touch was gentle, but it was enough to make you shiver, your skin hypersensitive to every point of contact.

The last remnants of your resolve began to crumble, and you could see the same struggle playing out in Lando’s eyes. There was a flicker of hesitation, a silent question hanging in the space between you—whether to cross this line, to take what you both so clearly wanted.

But then he stepped even closer, his hand sliding up your arm to your shoulder, his fingers tracing the curve of your collarbone. The touch was light, almost reverent, but it carried the weight of everything unsaid between you. His eyes followed the path his hand made, and when he looked back up at you, there was no more hesitation, only a hunger that mirrored your own.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, his voice rough around the edges, as though he was barely holding himself back.

You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, a familiar ache begging to be satisfied. With every brush of his fingers, you felt your resolve crumbling.

You tilted your chin up, your lips parting in invitation. The look in his eyes was pure need, a reflection of the desire coursing through you. He leaned in, his breath warm on your lips, his scent simply intoxicating now that it was mixed with the sharp fruity champagne.

It was as if time had slowed down, and all you could focus on was the heat of his body, the anticipation of his touch, the promise of everything that would come next. And then, finally, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your body.

The feel of his lips on yours was electric, sending sparks racing across your skin. His mouth moved against yours, hungry and demanding, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. You opened for him, letting him deepen the kiss, savoring the taste of him. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before—the combination of the champagne, the adrenaline, and the sheer relief of finally giving in to the chemistry that had been simmering between you was enough to make your head spin.

As his hands roamed over your bare skin, igniting a trail of heat wherever they touched, you could feel your body responding, the desire building with every passing second. He kissed you like a man starved, and you met his hunger with your own, matching his pace. Your hands found his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palms, the heat of his skin drawing you in like a magnet. He was solid and real beneath your touch, and you pressed yourself against him, the sensation of his body against yours igniting something primal and uncontrollable inside you.

Lando’s breath hitched at the contact, his hands splaying across your back, fingers digging in just enough to send a shiver down your spine. His mouth hovered just inches from yours, his breath warm against your lips, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter between you, ready to snap.

“Lando,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, more a plea than anything else.

That was all it took to break the final thread of restraint. There was no gentleness now, only the raw, urgent need that had been simmering between you for what felt like forever.

You kissed him back with equal fervour, your hands sliding up to tangle in his damp curls, pulling him even closer as his hands roamed over your back, your waist, every inch of skin he could reach. The heat of his body, the taste of him on your lips—it was overwhelming in the best possible way, drowning out every thought that wasn’t about him, about this.

Lando’s hands found the clasp of your bra, and with a practiced flick, he had it undone, the fabric slipping away as his hands moved to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp against his mouth. The sound seemed to fuel him, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he backed you up against the lockers, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the heat between you.

You could feel the solid press of his body against yours, his arousal evident as he pinned you to the lockers, his hands never ceasing their exploration. Reaching your panties, his fingers slid under the band, tugging them down in one smooth motion, his movements sure and confident, as if he knew exactly what he wanted. The sheer contrast of standing before him completely naked while he remained fully clothed amplified the raw vulnerability of the moment, making it feel intensely intimate and charged with a potent, almost primal, energy.

Your own hands moved lower, sliding down his clothed chest, his hard abs, until you reached the waistband of his pants. The feel of his muscles tensing under your touch sent another wave of desire through you, and you wasted no time in slipping your hand beneath the fabric, finding his impressive length and trying to wrap your fingers around him.

His forehead resting against yours as he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes closing as the friction elicited a rush of pleasure that had him breaking the kiss to let out a curse. For a moment, he just stood there, his breath ragged, his hands tightening on your hips, as if trying to steady himself.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire, and the raw honesty of it sent a thrill through you.

“Good,” you replied, your own voice husky with need, your hand beginning to move with deliberate strokes that had him groaning, his head dropping to your shoulder as he tried to keep himself in check. He reached for his fireproofs and pulled them off, his movements almost frantic. You helped him, pushing the fabric over his hips, revealing the perfection of his physique.

You couldn't help but stare at him, taking in the lean, sculpted lines of his body, the taut muscles that flexed with each movement. You inhaled a sharp breath as your eyes finally landed on his cock, hard and swollen with desire. You were no stranger to the male anatomy as your hormones and curiosity had gotten the best of you in the past, but you were starting to become nervous about taking his impressive size inside of you.

Before your brain could spiral too far, you felt Lando's hands on you, his touch firm but gentle, his calloused fingertips sending shivers of pleasure through your body as he traced patterns along your skin, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you. The chemistry between you had ignited into a full-blown inferno, and neither of you had any intention of putting it out.

In a fluid motion, Lando lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you over to the shower that had been steaming in anticipation. You giggled as the warm water hit your skin, the tension between you melting away as the shower cascaded over you both.

"I've been wanting to do this since the moment I saw you," he said, his voice low and rough, the sound of it sending a shiver of anticipation down to your core.

"Then don't make me wait any longer," you replied, a challenge and a plea, and the heat that flared in his eyes at the words was enough to make you burn for him.

He lowered his mouth to yours, the kiss slow and deep, a delicious contrast to the urgency. His hand reached between your legs, finding the wetness there and stroking with just the right amount of pressure, his thumb circling your clit and making you gasp into his mouth. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, and he used it against you, building you up slowly but surely, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter with every expert movement of his hand.

You clung to him, your nails digging into the slick skin of his back, a desperate attempt to anchor yourself against the waves of pleasure that threatened to consume you. He entered two of his thick fingers making you whimper at the stretch. His free hand was on the side of your face, tilting it up to capture your lips with his, kissing you with a tenderness that belied the urgency of the situation. You knew he was trying his best to prepare you for his cock, but it was a lot. He was a lot.

"I don't think you're going to fit," you whispered, feeling embarrassed, but he just smiled, his fingers still working their magic.

"Oh, I will," he promised, and you felt a jolt of desire shoot through you at the certainty in his voice.

The words sent a rush of heat through you, and you felt yourself clenching around his fingers, the pleasure intensifying as he stroked your g-spot with precision. Lando swallowed your moans, the feel of his body pressed against yours, the warmth of the water surrounding you, and the expert movements of his hand bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He was relentless, his fingers working you relentlessly until the pleasure became too much, the tension snapping and sending you crashing over the edge.

The orgasm tore through you, leaving you trembling in its wake, and Lando held you close, his hands gentle now as he supported you. You were gasping for air, the feeling so intense it was almost overwhelming. He murmured your name, his voice soft and low, the sound of it making something inside you ache.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, the intensity of his eyes almost enough to make you forget how to breathe.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice full of emotion, and in that moment, you believed him.

Slowly, the haze of pleasure began to clear, and you became aware of the tension coiled in his body, the way his muscles were taut with restraint, the evidence of his own desire pressed against your thigh. He was still rock-hard, and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you, to experience that connection on a deeper level.

"I'm ready," you breathed, your voice laced with a need that you could no longer deny.

He nodded as he turned you around, pressing your face against the cool tile, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the water. Your breath hitched as he lined up his cock with your entrance, the blunt tip already threatening to breach you. He gathered some of your moisture by rubbing his tip against your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"I'll go slow," he whispered, as his other hand grabbed your neck, forcing you to arch your back. He took a moment to burn this very image in his mind. He had thought about this moment countless times before, but now that it was happening, it was even better than he could have imagined.

With a slow, deliberate push, he was able to get the head inside. Your eyes shut as you felt the stretch, his girth much more than you were used to. You let out a whimper as you reached for the hand currently holding your neck, seeking his support. You could hear him mutter under his breath, the words too quiet for you to make out. You assumed it was a string of curse words, but you didn't dare look.

With his hand gripping your hip, he pushed deeper, slowly but steadily, inch by inch. You could feel every vein on his perfect cock, the stretch dancing on the edge of pain and pleasure. He kept stopping, pulling back a bit and then pushing deeper again. You could tell he was doing his best to let you adjust to his size, but it was still a struggle.

Once he bottomed out, he groaned as you let out a sound that you've never heard yourself make before. A mixture between a moan and gasp. His hands traveled up your body, finding your breasts and giving them a squeeze, before settling on your shoulders. You could feel the water trickling down your back as the steam created a haze around the two of you. You were both panting, trying to catch your breath. You could feel his hot breath against your ear.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice rough, a mixture of desire and concern.

"Yes," you answered, not even recognizing your own voice, "I'm just a little...full."

He chuckled at that, his cock twitching inside you. He slowly started moving his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls lighting up every nerve in your body. You couldn't string two thoughts together as he started creating a torturous rhythm. One of his hands travelled down to your bundle of nerves, pinching it with every thrust.

"Fuck," you cursed, "fuck, fuck, fuck." You couldn't believe how drunk you were on him.

He chuckled as he grabbed you from the now warm tile, resting you flat against his front. The new angle allowed him to reach deeper, making you whimper and whine with every thrust. His hands reached for your jaw, tilting it so he could stare deeply into your eyes. He was watching every reaction, every change in your expression.

"Tell me what you feel." he demanded, his voice hoarse, and you forced yourself to open your eyes, meeting his gaze. The intensity of his stare was almost enough to send you over the edge again, but you clung to the last threads of your self-control, desperate to prolong this moment.

"I feel...I feel everything," you gasped, the words barely more than a whisper. “I’ve never felt like this b—"

He silenced you with a kiss, swallowing the rest of your words. It was a clash of tongues and teeth, a battle for dominance that neither of you could win. The heat between you was unbearable, the need for release consuming every thought. You knew he was close, could feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the way his thrusts were becoming more erratic, less controlled. But you weren't ready to let go, not yet.

You pulled away from the kiss, forcing him to meet your gaze. "Please don't stop," you begged, your voice rough with need, "I need you, Lando."

That was all it took. His eyes darkened, and he let out a growl, his grip on your jaw tightening as he captured your lips again, the kiss almost violent in its intensity. It was as if a switch had been flipped, the raw hunger between you reaching a new level.

He fucked into you with wild abandon, his hips snapping as he chased his release. The pleasure was blinding, the sensation of his cock filling you, stretching you, sending you spiraling toward the edge. You could feel the tension building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until you could no longer hold back.

The orgasm crashed over you like a wave, stealing the air from your lungs as your body shuddered in his arms. Your eyes closed, the white light behind your eyelids pulsing in time with the waves of pleasure washing over you. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only cling to him as you rode out the storm.

Lando buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips finding the delicate skin there, sucking and nibbling. You could feel the pleasure building again, the combination of his cock inside you, his hands gripping your hips, his lips against your neck sending you hurtling toward another climax.

"I'm close," he panted, his voice rough with need, "so close, fuck."

The words sent a surge of heat through you, and you clenched around him, feeling him shudder as his own release washed over him. You grabbed as his curls, forcing him to look at you, the intensity of his gaze pushing you over the edge again, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

"Fuck, I can feel you," he gasped, his cock twitching inside you as your core milked him, the sensation of his release triggering another wave of pleasure.

You both clung to each other, riding out the waves, the intensity of the moment rendering you speechless. You were both gasping for air, the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your bodies. Lando buried his face in your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin, the sensation almost too much to bear.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other's arms, the only sound the steady beat of the water as it cascaded over you. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so sated, so utterly spent.

Finally, Lando pulled back, his eyes searching yours, his expression a mix of emotions—relief, contentment, and a hint of something else, something that sent a thrill through you. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

"That was...fuck," he said, his voice rough, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You grinned, the joy and satisfaction evident in every line of your body. You could feel him slowly softening inside you, and you reluctantly unwrapped your legs, letting him slide out of you. You gasped feeling yourself become sore already. He chuckled as he noticed, turning off the water and wrapping you in a towel, gently drying you off before lifting you up in his arms.

"You're gonna kill me," he muttered, a spark of humor in his voice, and you laughed, the sound echoing off the tiles, the sound carefree and light.

You kissed him, slow and deep, the kiss full of promises and possibilities. This was only the beginning, and you both knew it. You pulled back, gazing at him with a mixture of awe and admiration, your heart full of the realization of what you'd found, the connection between you now undeniable.

"Get that perfect ass to media duty before they start sending out a search party," you teased, a chuckle escaping as you watched the realization of his looming responsibilities flicker across his face.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, giving you a quick peck on the lips before setting you down, "but just know, this was the best shower I've ever taken."

You smirked, unable to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. "I'll keep that in mind."

As he left, a sense of calm washed over you, the satisfaction of the moment lingering in the air like a sweet perfume. The memory of his touch, the weight of his body against yours, the deliciously filthy sounds he had coaxed from you, would stay with you forever, a private treasure. You sighed, reveling in the warmth and comfort that seemed to envelop you, the afterglow of your tryst still humming through your veins.

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raguiras · 3 months ago

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SKETCH COMIC: Deuce/Yuu at the beach

Reblogging is highly appreciated! 🥹🙏

AAAAA finally another Spade of Storms post! Today is their 150 days anniversary, so I just HAD to post!! More coming soon ^^

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NOTE: My Yuu is named Allen and primarily uses he/him pronouns. However, I tend to change this in comics for general insert purposes.

Part 3 of the relationship timeline (= how they finally got together) below the cut!

More ship content

Previous parts of my Deuce x Allen ship introduction: 1 // 2 // 3

Deuce x Allen blog: @spade-of-storms

Event where you can draw this ship & get art of your own ship back :3

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Relationship timeline (pt. 3)

♠︎♤ POST BOOK 7 ♤♠︎

By now, pretty much everyone at NRC knew that Deuce and Allen had a thing for each other, and many people even assumed that they were a couple already.

Nobody could blame them, though: the two boys were not only inseparable and constantly smiling at each other, but also extremely touchy nowadays. Having built unparalleled levels of trust and being incredibly comfortable with each other, Allen and Deuce did more and more together, eventually even cuddling in public on the regular.

One day when Deuce had done incredibly well on a test, Allen gave him a cheek kiss out of sheer euphoria. This absolutely made Deuce bluescreen and he later rambled to Ace about it — it was his first ever kiss!!! Did Allen like him back?! Did this kiss mean anything?! Would it be okay for him to give Allen a kiss as well?!

When they were watching a movie together in Allen's room, Deuce decided to spontaneously kiss Allen's cheek, too. The blonde boy got incredibly nervous as he had not expected this in the slightest — after all, he was "disgusting and unlovable" — and simply laughed it off.

Another time, Deuce was comforting Allen during one of his low moments. As Allen went on about how much he hated his body, Deuce was basically rendered speechless and could reply with nothing but sincere compliments on Allen's appearance. This warmed the Ramshackle prefect's heart a ridiculous amount... did Deuce really mean it? Was Allen actually beautiful to him...? Why was Deuce not growing sick of complimenting him and instead always sounded genuine...? After a quick gaze was exchanged, Allen suddenly found every area of his face other than his lips being covered in gentle, soft kisses. "I'm here for you. You're so beautiful."

These happenings caused them to occasionally kiss the other in various places (except for the lips) — yes, including their necks — which shocked everybody due to the physical distance both held with other people. However, it was still strictly "platonic" as neither Allen nor Deuce dared to say a thing. Everyone around them was losing their minds in the meantime — how could they act this lovey-dovey with the constant cuddles, gazes and kisses and STILL not be a couple?!

Deuce was convinced that he was way too average for someone like Allen. Despite the Ramshackle prefect's many flaws, he was the embodiment of perfection in Deuce's eyes. Allen would definitely want someone prettier and smarter, right...? Deuce surely couldn't compare...

Allen, on the other hand, still firmly believed that he was not only ugly, but unlovable, undeserving, and easy to replace. In his opinion, he had to be absolutely perfect in every way to be a worthwhile partner, and his crushing fear of rejection held him back anyway.

Both boys were terrified of destroying their friendship through a love confession. While they strictly avoided the topic of the rumors and of them potentially getting together in each other's presence, both Allen and Deuce secretly rambled to their friends and were desperately searching for advice. No matter how often everyone told them that the other one definitely liked them back, neither of the two teenagers could/wanted to believe it.

Sometimes, Deuce and Allen even talked about their crushes together, describing them to each other's face in hopes of them realizing that the other one was their crush. However, this backfired A TON: neither could believe that the described positive traits applied to THEM, and instead, Allen firmly believed that Deuce was crushing on someone else (and vice versa).

Ace couldn't stand it anymore and forced Deuce to gift Allen a red rose to test the waters. While the Ramshackle prefect did want to believe that the gesture was of romantic nature, Allen instead decided that it was a platonic souvenir from Heartslabyul's gardens — after all, Deuce had described his crush as "beautiful, kind and the most perfect person he had ever seen", which SURELY couldn't have been Allen...

Deuce didn't know what other hints to drop (outside of the fact that he regularly gave Allen gifts, complimented him a ton, got touchy with him despite hating it with other people, was eager to hang out with him all day, and literally KISSED him). Allen simply appeared to be oblivious to absolutely everything.

One day when they were cuddling on Allen's bed while watching a movie, Deuce yet again planted little kisses on Allen's neck and spontaneously decided to be bold, asking Allen if they could finally kiss on the lips. The Ramshackle student blushed and was taken by surprise, but obviously agreed. Their first kiss was innocent, loving and downright PERFECT — both felt as if they were about to explode — until Allen brushed it off as "practice" with a sad chuckle. Deuce's heart was broken within a second.

Allen was so heavily traumatized and convinced that he was unlovable that he genuinely thought Deuce wanted to use him as practice for his future relationship with the aforementioned "perfect, kind and beautiful" crush. Deuce thought the same about Allen — so this wonderful kiss was only practice for the blonde boy's upcoming relationship with his crush, huh...?

Both yet again talked to their friends in search of help, but all they got was further reassurance that the other one DID like them and that there was simply a massive misunderstanding.

At some point, Deuce couldn't wait anymore. He loved Allen more than anything and he NEEDED him, but Deuce knew full well that he'd likely get too nervous and stumble over his own words if he confessed to Allen in person. Instead, he decided to gift the boy another Shiba plushie, place it in front of Allen's door, and attached a letter to it.

Unfortunately, this also backfired. Allen was convinced that the letter was a prank; he was convinced that someone was impersonating Deuce and recreating his handwriting with magic in order to give Allen wrong hopes and possibly destroy the friendship he had with Deuce (however, Allen did keep the letter and plush Shiba). When Deuce heard about this, he was even more saddened — what did he have to do for Allen to realize that he was not only worthy of love, but actively loved by Deuce? What did he have to do for Allen to realize... that Deuce wanted him more than anything else in life? There was only one way left...

Deuce planned the confession in detail and even practiced in front of his mirror. He bought twelve red roses, two matching gumball machine rings, and another plushie. Additionally, Deuce also wrote a second love letter.

He then invited Allen to a blastcycle tour, which the Ramshackle student obviously agreed to. When it was time for them to go, Deuce showed up at Allen's window and blasted "Baby" by Justin Bieber at full volume, and once inside Allen's room, Deuce gifted him the bouquet. But this time, Allen couldn't just mentally brush it off as a platonic gesture — he saw the desperation, sincerity and love in Deuce's eyes, and took the flowers with a bright blush while nervously thanking Deuce.

The two teenagers went off to the beach, with Allen holding onto Deuce tightly as they rode the blastcycle.

When they arrived at the beach, Deuce's heart was pretty much beating out of his chest. After a short walk, the blue-haired boy gathered all his courage, breathed in deeply one last time, took the gifts out of his bag, and went on one knee in front of Allen.

Allen's heart was beating out of his chest as well. He couldn't deny it any longer, his insecurities couldn't deny it any longer — this was indeed a confession.

Allen opened the letter and teared up immediately upon reading Deuce's sweet words. It was another sincere love confession, this time handed to him directly by Deuce. There was no excuse and it couldn't be mistaken for a prank. The Heartslabyul student kneeled in front of Allen, looking up to him with the most desperate, nervous puppy eyes — Deuce wanted nothing more than to date him.

Allen couldn't believe it yet and started crying. Deuce actually loved him... Deuce genuinely wanted to be with him. All his life, Allen had been told that something like this was impossible... but here he was now, being confessed to in the sweetest way by the sweetest person he had ever met. He was loved.

Deuce slowly got up to comfort Allen, but instead, the Ramshackle prefect initiated a kiss. This time, it wasn't "practice" — it was their first genuine kiss as a couple, and it became one of their most treasured memories for both of them.

They were officially together now... and little did Allen know that they'd stay lovers for the entirety of their lifes.

"I love you." — "I love you, too."

Deuce and Allen had fixed the mistakes of the past; Allen's previous incarnation had died before Deuce's got the chance to confess. And in their next lifes, they'd be together as well.

They were destined to find each other in every universe.

♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤

Fun fact: There are 3 Spade of Storms days.

22th March: The day when I first decided that I want them to be together in an old rp server. It was likely the first official confirmation of the ship, and it was 150 days ago.

20th May: The day when they got together in the canon lore.

27th July: The day that's exactly in between of their birthdays (3rd June & 20th September).

Thank you very much for reading! 🥹🥹

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teacasket · 2 years ago

Text

omg

genre: fluff au: gamer au, streamer au warnings: none word count: 0.6k pairing: gn!reader x lee felix song: omg by new jeans

THEY KEEP ON ASKING ME, “WHO IS HE?”

Chat won’t stop asking, despite how many times you try to steer the topic at hand to something else. Their opinions on your current Animal Crossing build? Ignored. If you should crochet a cardigan or bucket hat for your cat? Little to no responses. Lavender latte or milk tea for Drink of the Day? Lavender latte wins, but Chat immediately goes back to your hidden boyfriend.

This is what you get for forgetting to mute your mic. You had a whole phone call about dinner before realizing your mistake, and now everyone knows that wholesome, cozy Twitch streamer lightberry swears like a sailor when discussing pork katsu and calls a special someone “baby.” It’s been clipped already, you just know. At least you didn’t put him on speaker.

“‘100 subs if you tell us his name?’” you read. You'll indulge them because indulging Chat makes for good content. “I’ll tell you literally anything else.”

If you told them his name, you would end up trending on Twitter.

“‘Is he also a gamer?’ Yeah. Mostly League, Genshin, Apex. He’s been trying to get into Valorant. Now, 100 subs, please.”

Felix, otherwise known as LixInABox, is a gamer and streaming personality who has nearly a million subs on Twitch. He has a partner, an elusive figure exclusively referred to as “My Partner.” There are rumors that My Partner (MP) doesn’t actually exist and that they’re a cover for his singleness.

“‘20 subs if you tell us his rank?’ Sure. He's pretty high in everything. I can’t ever duo with him, except in Genshin.”

When he started streaming, he was primarily known for his League of Legends skills. Low Masters on a good day, Diamond 3 on the bad ones.

“‘Show us a picture.’ You know what, I’ll do that for free.”

Chat is not happy when you pull up a photo of Marshal from Animal Crossing. To be fair, he does resemble Felix a little.

While they continue to pester you about his identity, you continue terraforming your butterfly-shaped lake. When Marshal walks by with a sandwich, you make sure to point him out.

“There’s my boyfriend,” you say as you glance at the chat, which is scrolling by so quickly, your eyes can barely keep up.

IT’S LIX

MP MP MP MP

LIXBERRY

You’ve got a ship name already? How did they figure it out? Did Felix reach a million subs? He joked that he would reveal who MP was once he hit a million, and you sort of gave him the green light, but surely he would tell you beforehand? You sit motionless at your chair and try to come up with a solution that doesn’t involve straight up lying.

LIXBERRY LIXBERRY

MP IS REAL

HE’S LIVE

It doesn’t matter what you do. By doing nothing, you’ve confirmed it, so you go back to how it all started—you call Felix, live on stream. You leave your mic unmuted intentionally this time.

“Hey, what did you do?” are your first words. You have his stream up as well, so you see the blush on his face. “You’re live on mine, by the way.”

“I didn’t do anything! They figured it out! I mentioned that I was gonna have pork katsu for dinner, and like five minutes later, they connected it back to you. What did you do?”

“I forgot to mute during our call,” you admit. “And I also gave them hints in exchange for subs, but I didn’t think they were anything obvious.”

He looks at his chat and laughs. “You basically told them what I’m famous for. And a picture of Marshal? No wonder.”

“My bad. See you at dinner?”

He smiles, and you can’t help but do the same. “Yeah. Love you.”

“Love you, too, baby.”

Chat explodes. You and Felix will never live this down, but it feels better than you thought. And you really don’t want to admit it, but lixberry is really, really cute.

HE’S THE ONE THAT’S LIVING IN MY SYSTEM, BABY.

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moronkombat · 1 year ago

Note

can you write headcannons on marriage proposals from the Lin Kuei trio? How nervous do you think they would be? Lol

Kuai Liang:

He knew for awhile now that he has wanted to marry, to have you and him be intertwined in the most sacred of promises

The devotion carried for you has climbed steady and smooth and how he wishes to seal it together but he wants it to be at the right time

Problem with that is he unsure when that special time is. Should it be where you two first met? Should it be when the two of you have your morning conversations?

His mind spins and spins about the hows and wheres. He is not too concerned with your answer. The love that flows through the two of you thick and heavy

The nerves that shake his spine are how to make the proposal memorable and meaningful. How can it possibly convey all this love for you?

This the primary reason why it take him quite a bit of time to offer his life to you. The idea has been there, ruminating and ruminating but his execution forever changing

Kuai Liang would settle for somewhere that is known just to you and him. A private place that you two escape to when you only wish to know each other and forget about the entire world

The proposal is done without rings or bands of gold. He takes you hands into his before slowly your fingers spread apart to match and rest against his

A smile so soft his upon him and he speaks of his love for you, how much you mean to him and how long he has wanted to say this

He says to you then "I would be a lucky man if you were to marry me" and your future together is now set

Tomas:

His thoughts of marrying you have been shared with his brothers as Tomas wants them to know his upcoming intentions along with hoping to find some encouragement

Kuai Liang affirms his decision, tell Tomas that he would be a good husband and that the two of you would be happy together. Bi-Han tells him "It sounds like your mind is already set. You don't need our opinions. Go and do it"

He wants to just go and do it as Bi-Han said but there are nerves tingling all throughout him. What if you say no? What if this is too much? Tomas does not wish to suffocate you

So then why has he already bought the ring? It a simple wedding band, one he purchased out of tradition. There are scattered memories of his mother's wedding ring but the image of it is unclear

Tomas brings the ring with him wherever he goes, taking time to gaze upon it during moments of free time. Should he ask? Should he not?

It is an accident that you happened upon the ring. You catch him, his back turned to you and hunched over, and you figure he must be looking upon something

You ask him to show you but he is quick, too quick to say it is nothing and so you persist and as you try to see, peering over him and pulling at him playfully, the ring is dropped

It is you hand that picks it up despite his attempt to stop you and when you look at the ring, you know what it is and slowly you place it in his palm

Then slowly, you hold you your hand to him, your ring finger elevated slightly and Tomas smiles with a small and sheepish nod before sliding it on your finger

Bi-Han:

Tells no one of his plans to marry you, keeping it exceptionally obscured. Though there have already been rumors about it

You have taught him how to love pure and true. You are at his thoughts when he awakes and rests. You mean absolutely everything to him and so he wants to bind your souls together

Problem is he is quite at a loss of how to go about such a task. Does he ask you directly? Does he plan something?

A full on occasion seems...gaudy. Would it not take away from the moment? Yet to merely ask is...dull?

And what of your answer? Is this what you truly want or is he selfish as so many of called him before?

Bi-Han isn't sure and that frustrates him, irritates him. He tries to drop hints to gauge your feelings towards marriage but they often come out as awkward and he is getting nowhere

He'll toss and turn obsessing over this idea of matrimony and suddenly he is beginning to lose sleep over it and it doesn't go unnoticed

Bi-Han is considerably more irritable around his subordinates but never with you but you can't help but take notice in his stress

Over the course of many months, Bi-Han juggles the idea of prosing to you. He looks quite scary when he thinks about his choices. Brows knit close together, eyes narrowed and foot tapping incessantly

He can take no more of this and so he approaches you when you in the middle of a task. He says your name, takes in a deep breath and tells you "I am Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei and it is my duty to lead but...I am also a man. A man who wants you by his side for the rest of my days and so I ask you will you marry me?"

You're stunned, shocked and whatever you had been holding in your hand has gone dropped to the floor. Once the shock has left you smile to him and tell him "Okay"

#mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fanworks #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #bi han #mk1 bi han #sub zero #tomas vrbada #tomas headcanons #tomas x you #tomas x reader #kuai liang headcanons #kuai liang x reader #kuai liang x you #mk1 kuai liang #kuai liang

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fandoms-x-reader · 2 months ago

Text

Making It Big

Requested By: @bellassssssss

Summary: You are in a band and everyone's reactions to seeing you perform for the first time. The Seven Demon Brothers x Reader Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon & Solomon x Reader Word Count: 2,863

Everyone in the Devildom had heard rumors of your adventures in the human world.

They knew that you were good at many things. You had so many talents that it should have been no surprise to hear that you were in a band in the human world.

And it wasn’t that they didn’t think that you could be in a band. They knew that you were the type of person to exceed at anything you put your mind to.

Still, it came as quite a shock when they all came up to the human world to visit you.

You had only been up there for a little while after having to leave the Devildom. But, during that time, you reconnected with your old bandmates and you all started playing together.

The seven demon brothers couldn’t stay away from you for long and neither could the Prince and his loyal servant or the two angels.

They were all so excited to see you again and they were sure that you would feel the same way.

And although you had made your feelings about them known, there was no greater feeling of satisfaction than when they saw the way you smiled when you finally saw them again.

The reunion couldn’t have been going better until you abruptly announced that you had to leave.

The twelve people surrounding you went into a frenzy of panic as they began questioning why you were leaving and if they did something wrong.

They were expecting a vast array of reasons you would have - but having to play a gig was not one of them.

Once they found out that you were performing with your band, their mood immediately changed from panic to excitement as they all invited themselves to watch you perform.

Before you knew it, they were leaving with you to the venue, telling you how happy they were to get to watch you.

Despite their protests, you had them go to their seats while you went to get ready in your dressing room.

You began overthinking things as you got into place. You wondered if they would like the songs your band was going to play. And you wondered if they would like your outfit.

It was a bit nerve-wracking to perform in front of your friends.

Unlike performing in front of people you might never see again, you would see them again - right after the show.

And their opinion of you was important to you.

You were stressing out over small details and you took a couple of deep breaths as the minutes until it was time to go on stage turned into seconds.

You told yourself to treat it like it was just a normal performance.

And when the lights came on and you stepped out onto the stage, all of your worries melted away as you put your heart and soul into the performance.

Lucifer wasn’t the type to express his feelings in front of everyone.

So, when they all decided to go and watch you perform, he did his best to keep up his calm and collected facade.

He couldn’t imagine if one of his brothers found out how excited he actually was. They would never let him live it down.

But, his facade faltered when you came out from behind the curtain, a smile on your face as you began playing.

Lucifer was once thought to be the most radiant creature, but he believed that you were the most radiant creature he had ever seen.

He was taken aback by how talented you were and every time the crowd applauded you, Lucifer couldn’t help but smirk.

Because you were his human and he couldn’t have been more proud of you.

He just couldn’t wait until he could have a moment alone with you so that he could tell and show you how amazing he thought you were.

He didn’t care if he had to fight the others for your attention.

Hearing others cheer for you fed his sin and gave him an intense need to hold you in his arms - to show others that you were with him.

Mammon tried to remain indifferent about going to watch you perform.

But he was bursting at the seams with anticipation.

It didn’t matter if you were the best singer in the world or the worst singer. He would be your number-one supporter either way.

Mammon was blown away by your talent.

He loved everything about your performance and he wasn’t the only one.

He doesn’t exactly come out and say how good you were or dote on you as much as some of the others.

But you can tell how proud he is because he started his own online store selling all of your merchandise; and, the success of that website was his most prized possession.

Not only that but he’ll approach you multiple times, begging to be your manager.

Granted, the merch is way overpriced but Mammon was excellent at selling things.

There have been multiple times when you’ve overheard him singing your praises to one of his customers and the happy glimmer in his eyes and sincere smile when he talked is all you needed to know how he really felt about it.

Levi was a professional - for lack of a better term - fanboy.

Whenever he found something to be obsessed with, he went all out.

He would learn everything about that person, buy anything to do with them, start online chat rooms about them, write their own wiki, etc.

Levi was already enthralled by you but after hearing you perform he was obsessed.

You had reached the level of all of the other idols he held in such high regard.

He would one hundred percent be Mammon’s best customer for all of the merch his older brother was offering.

Mammon would even give him “the family discount” and yet the price would still be outrageous.

Levi would treat you differently at first, acting more awestruck around you and nervous once again.

He’ll treat you as if you were a famous person he had never met before until you ask him to stop and go back to being your favorite otaku.

Only then will he start acting like himself again. But, his support for you never died down.

In fact, there were a few times when you found Levi competing with Mammon to try and determine who was your bigger fan.

He is the Avatar of Envy, after all; and, he can’t have anyone else being a bigger fan of you than him.

Satan is as detail-oriented as ever when he came to watch you perform.

He paid attention to everything from the color of the lighting to the jewelry you were wearing.

He listened to every word in your songs and to every instrument that was playing.

And he was highly satisfied with the story you were creating with your performance.

Your set had clearly been well thought out and planned, and just like any good story, it completely grasped Satan’s attention.

And it wasn’t just your music that captivated him but you yourself.

You looked so confident and alluring up on the stage. Satan couldn’t help but watch you intensely, a small blush coating his cheeks as he thought about how fascinated he was with you.

He liked to remain calm and composed like his oldest brother, so he won’t freak out as much as the others - on the outside.

But on the inside, he is dying.

It’s like he’s experiencing you all over again, but this time in a different light.

And that light was making you shine brighter than anything he had ever seen before.

Naturally, Satan helps his brothers with their attempts to support you, making sure he is seen by you just as much as them.

And behind closed doors, Satan isn’t afraid to rave about how amazing you are.

Asmo’s excitement had already hit the maximum when he saw you step out onto the stage in your outfit.

He thought you looked so stunning. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

He was lost in a trance, taking in every detail. From the color you were wearing, to the fabric it was made of, to the beauty products you used.

He took a moment to finally regain his composure but promised himself he would make you take him to your dressing room after the show. He wanted to see every outfit you had!

His composure was soon lost again the second you started singing.

They all knew how talented you were; but, knowing it and hearing it were two very different things.

Asmo was mesmerized all over again, the smile never leaving his face as his eyes shone with adoration.

He was the loudest fan in the crowd, making sure to give you every ounce of praise he believed you deserved.

Asmo was now your number one fan and he would make sure to do the job well.

He would never stop complimenting you on your talent and he would have tons of appreciation gifts.

Whatever love he received from his fans, he would give it to you multiplied by two.

He just hoped that one day you would let him perform with you.

You had always been such a huge support for Beel whenever he had one of his fangol games.

You would always sit there, cheering him on and making him feel like he was doing a good job.

So he was really excited to come to your performance and get the chance to do the same for you.

He sat there a bit nervously as he waited for the show to start, anticipating what it would be like.

But when you came out on stage, the only thing Beel could think about was how stunning you were.

You moved around the stage like you owned it, and you didn’t have a single worry or fear in your mind.

He was so happy just to see you start performing but whenever you did something particularly impressive, Beel had the biggest smile and felt a surge of gratification.

He wondered if you felt that way whenever he scored during one of his games.

He would do his best not to blink the entire time you were on stage, afraid he would miss something.

And when you were done, he would run backstage and give you the biggest hug, his large arms wrapping around you and pulling you tightly into him.

He would keep you there for a bit, praising you and complimenting you.

Belphie has a hard time staying awake at most things.

It was nothing personal, it’s just sooner or later he found himself nodding off no matter how hard he tried to stay awake.

And he was really nervous about it happening while you were performing.

Not only was he excited to watch you, but he also knew that if you looked at him and saw him sleeping it would be rude and offensive.

But when you started your performance, Belphie knew that there was no way he would ever be able to fall asleep during it.

You completely bewitched him and every smile you gave or move you did sent a shot of adrenaline through his veins.

He could feel himself falling harder and harder for you by the second, and it didn’t take long for him to look more attentive and lively than the others.

Belphie didn’t typically show jealousy, but after the show, he would definitely try and keep you away from his brothers.

For one reason - because he knew they were all thinking the same thing.

And for the second reason - because he wanted a chance to congratulate you on an amazing performance in private.

Diavolo was always taken by you.

It didn’t matter what you did, he found it enticing.

But watching you perform was on a whole other level.

It was beautiful and awe-inspiring. He was completely taken aback by it in the best way.

He enjoyed every second of it and when you announced that it was going to be your last song of the night, he got more disappointed than he thought he would be.

Watching you perform made him feel so happy and alive and you were so radiant that he felt like he could watch you forever.

So, he decided he was going to find a way to convince you to perform in the Devildom for them.

It would be a great reason for you to come visit and, for his own selfish reason, then he would get to watch you again.

Being the Prince had its perks and he would get you many gifts of stuff you could use to decorate your set or new instruments that had been customized.

Diavolo not only completely supports you but he wants everyone else to see how much he supports you.

And he hoped that you would give him the opportunity to show you that by sneaking away from the others with him.

Barbatos had seen many performances in his very long life.

But your beauty and talent surpassed anything he had ever seen before.

Barbatos wasn’t oblivious to how special you were, but you never ceased to amaze him.

Whenever he thought he had learned everything about you, you found a new way to impress him.

He was a bit embarrassed to admit how much you enchanted him.

He may have had the gift of foresight but he never would have predicted that you would have such a big hold over his heart.

That you would be able to make him feel such strong things.

He knew that Lord Diavolo would undoubtedly have plans of asking you to perform in the Devildom and he would do everything he could to make them come to fruition.

Your performance was something he could watch a million times and never get bored of.

Until that could happen, Barbatos would make sure you knew just how much you charmed everyone.

You deserved every compliment and praise that was thrown your way, and he would make sure he gave you just as much as anyone.

Just because he was Diavolo’s butler didn’t mean he wasn’t in the competition for your heart.

And seeing you perform gave him the push he needed to be more forward with you because he was certain everyone else would as well.

Simeon has found inspiration in so many things. That’s why he was such a talented writer.

But there was nothing more inspiring than you. There was no greater muse.

Your beauty was unparalleled, your personality was more lovable than anyone’s, and now you had just proved your talent was unmatched.

Simeon was sure that there was nothing in the three worlds that you wouldn’t be great at.

He was so blown away by your performance that he could have written a book about it.

Though instead a story, it would most like turn into an ode about the one he treasured so much.

He won’t admit it to you, but watching you perform your songs inspired him to write his own version.

He ended up writing an entire book of poems about you, published under a pen name.

He couldn’t help it - he needed some outlet to express all of the feelings he had for you.

You are by far the most ethereal creature Simeon had ever seen and he hoped that one day you would hold the same affection that he held for you.

But, until that day, he would settle for being your number-one supporter and he would make it known that if you needed any help with your career or anything else, you could always turn to him.

Thanks to Solomon being a fellow human, he had an advantage the others didn’t - he had seen you perform before.

He had been in the human world with you the entire time and he made sure he didn’t miss a single one of your performances.

Solomon’s way of showing his support and appreciation was through dedication.

He was there, in the front row, at every show cheering as loudly as he could and getting the crowd even more behind you than they already were.

He wasn’t opposed to adding special effects to your show to help you as well, such as fireworks at the end or a few additions to the decor that had you wanted but couldn’t afford.

That was the benefit of him being an all-powerful sorcerer - he could give you almost anything you wanted.

And when you came to ask for his help in the most adorable way, who was he to refuse?

Solomon knew that the others would be all over you after watching you perform and it made him miss when it was just you and him - when he was the only one there to shower you with love and affection.

But he hoped that you would see he has and will always stand by your side.

And that only intensified now that the others were in on it too.

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