#i do think the next one will be slightly unexpected

[rafecameronssl4t]

Fake it 'till you make it || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: You ask Rafe to pretend to be your boyfriend at an event, leading to unexpected tension as the line between pretense and reality blurs.

Warnings: none!

Word count: 927

A/n: inspired by that one scene in blackbird!!!

MASTERLIST

You stood in front of the mirror, applying the final touches to your makeup. Behind you, sprawled out on your bed like he owned the place, was Rafe Cameron, his broad frame stretching out against the sea of throw pillows. He looked maddeningly relaxed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other flipping through a vogue magazine he’d picked up from your nightstand.

His hair was perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to reveal his tanned forearms, and his khakis were tailored just enough to scream old money without trying too hard. “You know, this is the weirdest thing anyone’s ever asked me to do,” Rafe said, his voice smooth but laced with amusement. “Why not just tell your parents you’re single?”

“Because then they’ll spend the entire event introducing me to every trust fund baby in town,” you retorted, fixing your eyeliner. “Do you think I like asking you for favours?” You added, your voice sharp but distracted. His lips curved into a smirk, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “Feels like you do, actually. First that thing with Sarah, now this… You’re starting to make a habit out of needing me, princess.”

You capped your eyeliner and turned to face him, hands on your hips. “I only need you because you owe me, Cameron. Remember that the next time you want someone to keep Sarah from going nuclear.” He let out a low chuckle, sitting up slightly and resting his weight on his elbows. “Alright, fine. I’ll play along. But pretending to be your boyfriend is a big ask.”

“What exactly does that exactly involve? Hand-holding? Smiling like an idiot?” You turned around, holding your mascara in one hand as you eyed him pointedly. “Just act like you would if I were your girlfriend—grabbing my ass, slipping me tongue, whatever,” you said, your tone clipped but casual, as if you hadn’t just handed him enough material to tease you for years.

Rafe’s grin spread slowly across his face, mischievous and cocky all at once. “Grabbing your ass?” he repeated, his voice dripping with mockery as he raised an eyebrow. You rolled your eyes, already regretting every decision that had led to this moment. “Yes, Cameron. Cop a feel. Do what it takes. Just make it convincing.”

He pushed himself upright, his long legs swinging off the bed as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His smirk never faltered, and his voice dropped an octave as he asked, “Should we practice now?” The air in the room seemed to shift, a charged tension filling the space between you.

You froze for a second, mid-swipe of your lip gloss, before turning to face him fully, one eyebrow raised. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you quipped, the corners of your lips curving into a knowing smirk. “But no, thanks. Now, come help me zip up my dress. Make yourself useful.” Rafe stood slowly, his height and presence somehow making the room feel smaller. “Yes ma’am.”

He crossed the distance to you in a few strides, his eyes trailing over the elegant fabric of your dress. The back was open, the zipper halfway down, exposing the soft curve of your spine. “Turn around,” he said, his voice quieter now, a subtle rasp to it that sent a shiver down your spine. You held your breath as you turned, gathering your hair and lifting it away from your back to expose the open zipper of your dress.

You could feel the heat of his hands before they even touched you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he took hold of the zipper. He didn’t rush. He moved it up slowly, deliberately, as if savouring the moment. When it reached the top, his hands lingered for just a second too long, his thumb grazing your shoulder.

“There,” he murmured, his voice close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your neck. You turned to face him, trying to maintain your composure despite the way your heart seemed to be pounding in your chest. “Thanks,” you said lightly, brushing past him to grab your earrings from the vanity.

But Rafe didn’t move. He stood there, leaning casually against the edge of the vanity, his eyes fixed on you with a smirk that made it clear he was enjoying every second of this. “If I didn’t know better,” he began, his voice slow and teasing, “I’d think you’re actually enjoying this little arrangement.” You met his eyes in the mirror, your lips curving into a small smile as you slid on one earring.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron,” you said, slipping in one final jab. “And keep your hands to yourself unless absolutely necessary.” His laugh was low, rich, and entirely too self-assured. “No promises, princess,” he said, his smirk deepening as he crossed his arms and leaned back.

[diorstarkey]

Good Graces | 01

Rafe Cameron x Princess!Reader | series masterlist.

summary; Being the son of the President of the United States came with its fair share of responsibilities, but none as infuriating as this. To secure his father's re-election, Rafe Cameron was forced to spend weeks under the same roof as the Princess of England. Diplomacy, they called it. Torture, he thought. The last thing he needed was a spoiled royal ruining his summer. But between gala events, unexpected conversations, and stolen glances, Rafe realized the line between hate and attraction was thinner than he'd ever imagined.

warnings; no smut. reader is two years younger than rafe. english is not my first language. the images are for the aesthetic. 'forced marriage au' by @rafecameronssl4t inspired<3

author's note; this is my first series!!! hope you liked it, reblogs and comments are appreciated<3

The presidential ballroom was impeccably decorated, a display of luxury that Rafe found unnecessary and pretentious. He leaned against one of the high columns, watching the political and royal elite move like chess pieces on a board. Ward has talking to the King, your father, about something he wasn't paying attention and didn't bother to pretend to care about.

The ride over had been torturous enough. For the thousandth time, Ward lectured him on how to behave in front of the Royal Family, reminding him—again— not to embarrass him in front of "the most powerful allies we could ever have."

Now, as he stood there, arms crossed and mind elsewhere, he saw you enter to the ballroom. Your entrance was impossible to ignore, your dress shimmering as if the stars themselves had been woven into it. Everything about you was poised, practiced and perfect, from the tilt of your chin to the way you greeted the room with that ever–diplomatic smile.

When your gaze finally met his, your expression shifted slightly, and an eyebrow arched. You approached with purpose, the polite smile on your face as cold as the champagne being served.

"You should bow", you said, your British accent cutting through the noise around them.

Rafe didn't move, instead crossing his arms tighter. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I'm royalty" you replied matter-of-factly, through your smile remained polite.

"And I'm the President's son" Rafe shot back, his tone dry. "I'd say that makes us even, wouldn't you?"

Your smile tightened ever so slightly, but you didn’t back down. “Are you always this charming, or is it just when you’re forced to interact with people far more important than you?”

"Only when those people are wearing a crown and an attitude." he countered, smirking.

Before you could retort, a voice interrupted.

“Ah, there you are, Rafe!” Ward’s tone was overly cheerful, drawing both your attention. “Why don’t you and the Princess take a photo together? A perfect opportunity for the press, don’t you think?”

You exchanged a quick, reluctant glance with Rafe, silently agreeing on one thing for the first time: this was going to be a long night.

Rage groaned internally, but this well-practiced fake smile was already in place. He extended an arm toward you in mock politeness, his smirk sharp enough to cut glass. "After you, Your Highness. Don't want to break royal protocol now, don't we?"

You rolled your eyes, but your own diplomatic farcade never faltered. "How thoughtful of you, Mr. Cameron."

As you both moved toward the photo backdrop, flashes from cameras already began to light up the room. Rafe leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “Smile big, Princess. The world’s watching.”

“I'd rather choke and believe me,” you replied through gritted teeth, “I’ve been smiling through worse company than yours.”

The photographer barked instructions as if posing next to someone you couldn’t stand wasn’t awkward enough. “Closer, please! Let’s see some warmth!”

Rafe, ever the troublemaker, slipped an arm lightly around your waist. “Anything for the press,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You stiffened at the gesture, your eyes shooting daggers at him. “Get your hand off me before I make you regret it,” you hissed quietly, though your face maintained an air of perfect grace for the cameras.

“Relax,” Rafe replied, his grin widening. “I’m just playing the role your family paid for.”

“Paid for?” you echoed, your smile faltering for just a fraction of a second.

“Sure. Isn’t that what this is? A transaction? You play nice with us so my dad looks good, and in return, we keep your little kingdom relevant.”

Your eyes narrowed dangerously, and for a moment, you wondered if anyone would notice if you stabbed him with your heel. “Your arrogance is truly astonishing.”

“And your entitlement is truly exhausting,” Rafe shot back, his voice just low enough to keep your verbal sparring private.

“Perfect!” the photographer called out, breaking the tension. “You two have such natural chemistry. Just lovely.”

You stepped away from Rafe the second it was socially acceptable, smoothing down the fabric of your dress as if even proximity to him had somehow wrinkled it.

“I need a drink,” you muttered under your breath.

“Make it a double,” Rafe quipped, already heading toward the bar.

A few minutes later, you found yourself stationed next to Rafe at a small table as your families chatted about alliances, trade agreements, and other topics that seemed infinitely dull. You weren’t listening, of course. You were too busy internally debating whether it was worth the scandal to excuse yourself entirely.

Rafe, meanwhile, was stirring the ice in his glass with a look that screamed disinterest. His posture was casual, legs stretched out slightly under the table as if he were deliberately trying to take up as much space as possible.

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Immensely,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “I especially enjoy sitting through conversations about ‘strengthening ties’ and ‘mutual benefits.’ Thrilling stuff, really.”

“Perhaps if you paid attention, you’d learn something,” you countered, keeping your voice neutral as possible.

“Perhaps if I wanted to listen to lectures, I’d go back to college,” he shot back.

You arched a brow. “Ah, yes. How could I forget? The prodigal son of the President, gracing the Ivy League with his presence. Did you even finish?”

Rafe’s smirk returned, though this time it was edged with something more genuine. “Touché, Princess. I did, actually. But I guess the finer details of my resume didn’t make it across the Atlantic.”

“Oh, I’m sure the tabloids covered it thoroughly,” you said. “Right next to your exploits at frat parties and your extensive collection of speeding tickets.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve done your homework. Impressive.”

“Unlike you,” you shot back, taking a sip of your champagne.

“Touché again,” he said, tipping his glass toward you in mock admiration. “You’re sharp. I’ll give you that.”

The conversation, sharp and biting as it was, didn’t go unnoticed. Across the room, Ward exchanged a glance with the King, who raised an eyebrow as if to say, Is this really going to work?

DIORSTARKEY — do not plagiarize, translate or copy my work.

[ironicsoap]

What I've learned from making 2 fursuits!

I've learned a TON from the process of both of these suits, making my 2nd suit I improved on a lot of stuff I had learned from the first! Here's stuff I would've liked to know before I started either of these

For reference, the white cat suit's name is Sophie and she was made first. The blue one is Raine, and she was made second! I'll be referring to them throughout this.

I've learned nearly everything I know about sewing and these types of craft projects from making these 2 suits, I haven't had any prior experience. This is all very much advice From a beginner TO beginners, experienced makers may say some of this is wrong, this is just my lived experience written down. I figured I'd write all this now while it's fresh in my mind! When you get experienced at doing stuff, you tend to forget what problems you faced as a beginner.

Fur Bulk

Fur bulk is REAL and a MASSIVE PROBLEM when making your sculpt. Regardless of what method you use to make your base, 3D printed or foam. Depending on how short you can shave your fur, fur bulk will add about 1cm - 0.5cm of thickness to your base

Look how much her mouth closed up from the base sculpt! I ended up still loving the end result, but it was a bit unexpected. (Despite learning about fur bulk from my first suit, and ALSO testing fur bulk in Blender with a fur particle system when I was making the sculpt for this head.)

Raine's ear is an unfortunate victim of fur bulk still, but I didn't have time to remake it how I wanted it. I even tried to make it slimmer on purpose since Sophie's ear ended up so stupidly thick 😭

Seam Allowance & Stitches

(Talking PURELY about hand sewing, I've never used a sewing machine, I cannot give any advice for that)

You should be using a blanket or whip stitch for most of your fursuit, in terms of speed and seams, they are the most effective! Whip stitch for most of your face, it's going to be glued down.. so truly you just need the fabric together and not SECURE since it'll be glued. Use the blanket stitch for things like paws or stuff that's more likely to pop a seam (ears? tails? etc)

More experienced suit makers might say use blanket for everything, that may be more correct 🤷‍♀️ Whip/Blanket are nearly the same stitch, blanket is just more secure than a whip stitch, takes a little longer, and uses slightly more thread. I haven't timed other stitches, but the blanket takes me about 5 minutes per inch to do.

On Sophie, I had made up my own bizarre version of a backstitch that was stupidly strong.. but also took a million years to do. It also made my paws near IMPOSSIBLE to turn inside out. Sewing raines face together with a whip stitch was way quicker!

For your face pattern, use next to no seam allowance for the cleanest look. The areas that I added seam allowance on Raine, I really regretted the bulged out look they had. If you aren't confident in your pattern making ability, some seam allowance does give you some wiggle room in terms of how easily your pattern fits onto your base

Designing your suit for airflow

This wasn't actually a problem for me, I did this from the start. But I've worn suits that weren't designed for proper ventilation, and it really just makes suiting a very unpleasant experience. You want to have a mouth hole that is right in front of your own mouth, so you can easily get fresh air in your suit. I'm not saying you HAVE to do this, as not all designs can accommodate this, but it's absolutely something to think about for your comfort!

Another thing I've learned, is the roomier your suit is around the mouth hole, the more overall airflow you get! I tried on my friends head which I sculpted, and they printed in TPU, significantly roomier than Raine, and much more breathable! Raine is still comfortable for me to wear even masked underneath, since I made her ventilation so good!

My future suits I make, I'm going to be looking into TPU due to the sheer weight and breathability difference from my PLA suit!

Non-Fur Supplies

I highly recommend getting hand sewing needles and EVA foam at Daiso if you have one! Daiso has lots of little sewing kits, and I got both of my main needles there. The little circle disks of needles you can find at other stores didn't have needles that were the right size and shape for my hands to comfortably use. Daiso also sells EVA foam in the smaller amounts that you'd need for a suit, unlike hardware stores which usually sell giant square packs of 5

For handsewing, I noticed going for the slightly thicker thread lead to stronger seams overall.

For what you should have in a sewing kit for fursuit, here's what I have (ranked by importance)

Multiple handsewing needles you're comfortable with, just in case you lose one

Pins

Wonder clips (the little plastic rainbow clips) ABSOLUTELY necessary for suit making honestly, they work better than pins in most situations

Seam ripper

Soft measuring tape

Some generic white and/or black thread, as well as your fursuits thread

Safety pins

Overall helpful fursuit supplies

Velcro patches

Masking tape

Duck/Duct Tape

Have garbage shitty scissors, and separate scissors JUST for fabric. Your fabric scissors will remain sharp for much longer if you don't use them on other stuff. (3rd pair of scissors that's not used on tape/sticky stuff, but thread and paper also is helpful. The garbage scissors can get gunky when cutting tape, and your medium scissors remain sharp enough to easily cut other stuff)

Xacto knife + LOTS of new blades. The blades go dull FAST when cutting fur and foam. If you're having to use a lot of pressure to cut through your fur's backing, that means you need a new blade

Box cutter + LOTS of new blades for box cutter. I have a Kobalt box cutter, it's nearly as sharp as my xactos. I use it for cutting out big sections of fur and foam.

I get my eye mesh from Curlworks! I love the visibility on it ^_^

Fur Brands

In terms of my fur company quality rankings, it would be this (I've tried fur from a million different companies on my sample hunt for Raine)

1. Howl Fabrics 2. BigZFabrics 3. MofuMofu.shop

Howl overall is the most dense, relatively soft, and best to shave out of all 3. (Canfur is of very similar quality to Howl, except it has a mild crayon or carpet smell. The smell wears off completely after around 6-7 months, at least on the small sample I got)

BigZ is kind of like a middle ground, but shaves HIGHLY powdery compared to the other 2. As well as shaves a little worse/choppy compared to better quality fur.

MofuMofu is the least dense out of the 3, but I would consider the softest. Best if they have a niche color you need. The fur tends to clump together when it is shaved like sheep wool, and is less powdery than BigZ.

Random furs from etsy are usually LQ/MQ and patchy on their density, not great for shaving super short

Fur Shaving / Length

If you're going for a high quality look on your suit, you want SHORT fur for the face, full-stop. Every suit I've seen that's truly made me go WOW has always had VERY short face fur. Shorter fur shows the look of your sculpt better, instead of hiding it all behind any lumpy fur bulk or unbrushed sections. (Brushing fur doesn't last very long after a suit's been put on haha)

If you can buy your fur in shorter lengths like teddy/beaver, ABSOLUTELY do so. It'll make your shaves much shorter and cleaner. The longer your fur is, is the harder it is to get it to a "HQ" shave length. I personally couldn't get Raine as short as I wanted her to be 😩 But her colors are niche, so I couldn't locate them in shorter fur lengths

Once your suit is complete, don't be afraid to go in there with scissors and your clippers to clean up the fur+markings as well! Raine's mouth opened up a LOT more when i trimmed it down to shape with my scissors

Pattern Making

Avoid putting any seams down the middle of your face, it is noticeable! This is roughly how my pattern for Raine worked, I think the eyebrows helped disguise that horizontal middle seam really well! (the fur from the "eyebrow" piece covers the seam to the forehead piece as it is brushed over it!) I also made the nose bridge it's own piece, to utilize the visible seam to create a crease for it.

I also recommend avoid making any + shaped intersections on your seams if you can avoid it, it's really hard to sew cleanly😭 Sometimes they're unavoidable, but I try my best to avoid doing them.

Wearability

I'm not sure how much this applies to foam suits, but I really recommend using some elastic, a parachute clip, and some velcro to make an adjustable strap to keep your suit on your head! I tried to use foam on Sophie to get a snug fit, it did not work and made her struggle to stay on. The elastic strap on Raine is way better and more secure.

Misc / Random

When making your ears, you don't necessarily need to sew the minky/inner ear onto the fur parts! You can get a much flatter look on your minky if you just glue it on seperate, and have the fur not connected to it

(Specifically for beginner suit makers making personal projects) Not everything has to be perfect! No one will notice your little imperfections, and you don't have to make a nice product for a client. You can leave some things unsewn, you can have tiny bits of foam show from weird angles. You can hot glue some things instead of sewing them to save time. You can have small accidental bald spots. You can have little unsewn holes in corners if it's too hard to sew around those parts. Take it easy on yourself!

You may spring for fleece to save some money on buying minky, I honestly recommend not doing this. Minky feels significantly nicer, and minky from Howl is really not that much more than some fleece, for small pieces like inner mouths, noses, ears, etc, all you need is a "Fat Quarter" sized piece. It's more than enough! And only $6.50 (if you want fleece specifically, ignore this haha. I just regret going for fleece instead of minky on Sophie!)

Carving a foam base, to me, is the hardest part of suit making. So much so, that I never plan to do it again :P It's some people's thing, definitely not mine. If you've been frustrated with how your foam results turn out, consider 3D printing! Or buying a base from someone.

When looking for fursuit advice and tutorials, beyond the obvious places to look (matrices, youtube, google), I genuinely recommend Tiktok! A lot gets posted there for small niche problems you may have

Use this method for tying a knot on your thread when hand sewing, it's extremely fast https://youtu.be/LWWhRtxl6eE?si=AEt2HDiwp09AigOS

When making a 3D printed base, do not go too thin. I'd do test prints to see what thickness feels right to you, raine was about 0.5-0.7 cm but I wish she was a bit thicker because I worry a lot about her shattering 😨

Removeable eyes are very useful, if i get hair in my face I'm able to pop out Raine's eyes to move it out of my way x)

[viiolyns]

abby anderson x reader

cw / somno. ass humping. kinda shit writing.

a soft moan slips past her lips as her small, perky tits press gently against your bare back; puffy, wet cunt grinding against the curve of your bare ass. you stir slightly, your eyebrows furrowing at the unexpected contact, but you don't wake.

you were asleep, and she found herself doing...this, she knew she shouldn't, but the urge was too strong to resist. she couldn’t wait any longer.

she hadn't seen you in weeks. recently, reports of infected had surged, with some even breaching the base's defenses. as a result, isaac had been sending groups out for extended missions, often leaving for weeks at a time. unfortunately, you were part of the last group chosen, and it had been nearly two frustrating months since you left.

frustrating for her and you, mainly her because she missed you like crazy, she loved you so much. you're one of the only people she had left in this fucked up universe. aaaaaaand because she couldn't fucking get off without you.

she wanted to deny the fact, she really did. and she tried, over and over, but nothing worked. not her fingers, not her pillow, not even the very few toys she had tried. nothing worked like you did, only you could make her come. it was humiliating, she couldn't believe she had been conditioned to need someone so badly. she was a grown woman not some child, and yet somehow you had found a way to have that much control over her.

now you were back, which was great. but you were exhausted, crashing almost the second you got back. barely giving abby any sort of attention beside a quick kiss and a promise to satiate her desires the next morning. but she needed more.

she needed you.

...even if this wasn't the right way to go about it.

her eyes are squeezed shut now as she pants, clit throbbing so hard it was almost painful. cheeks dusting a rosy pink as she heard the wet, sticky sounds coming from where you two were connected. shyness, humiliation even, eating away at her because she couldn't just wait a few hours for you to wake.

her nose was buried in your neck, breathing in your sweet scent with every shaky intake of breath. she bit down on her bottom lip, praying to whatever gods above to keep you asleep.

she eventually found a steady rhythm, pussy thinking first as she sped up, any self restraint she had long gone. your body racked with her harsh thrusts and, unfortunately for her, she didn't notice you moving just a bit too much.

"fuck." she whines, chasing that warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. her hand comes up to palm at her breast, squeezing and fondling herself as she imagines it was your touch instead of her own. she presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck, leaving a series of dark bruises behind.

she’s not being very subtle right now.

as abby moved on top of you, her toned muscles quivered with each movement, sending shivers down your spine. her breath came in shallow gasps, each one a high-pitched whine on her lips. it was clear she was close now, so fucking close.

her grip on you tightens, her blunt nails digging crescents into your thighs. that’s when you started to wake up.

“the fuc—abby?” your words cut through her impending orgasm and she freezes. it's when you start to shift some more that she finally starts to scurry off of you.

“i’m so-sorry…you were asleep so..” she muttered sheepishly.

“i was, yeah.” you grumbled, propping yourself up some, taking in the sight in front of you. she was fully naked, tank top hanging around her neck. her braid had come undone, loose pieces of hair framing her pretty face.

you sat up completely, turning to face her fully. your hand came up to cradle her face. “why didn’t you just wake me up, abs?” god, she was mortified. her eyes didn’t meet yours, ashamed of what she’d done. “you know you could’ve.”

she knew this. she nods weakly, attempting to ignore the intense throbbing between her legs, getting increasingly wetter at the sound of your thick, sleepy voice. "didn’t wanna wake you. i’m sorry, baby.”

poor thing…so weak and pathetic. she couldn't help herself. not when it came to her wants, her cravings. she needed you, craved your touch, your control. you could see it in the way her body trembled, her eyes begged. "you just can't get off without me, can you?"

she nods, unable to find any words.

"you want more, don't you?”

another nod.

you lay back down in your spot, eyes closing as you edge back into sleep. "go on then. clean my ass off when you're done."

booooooooo. boringggg and rushed ending. i forgot about this account whoops

[anincompletelist]

2025 wips!

hi all! :D

very low pressure tag to everyone (open tag as well!) to share what you're working on in 2025! I've hit a bit of a wall and need to get organized, and even though most of my fics are impromptu 4am ramblings, I figured I'd hold myself accountable here and make it into a game of sorts for anyone who might be inclined to do the same.

I hope you've all had a lovely new year so far! x

*obligatory slightly nsfw warning*

ex-marine henry

after being dishonorably discharged from his position in the royal marines that he never truly wanted in the first place, henry finds himself adrift, hoping to start anew in the states. he meets alex, a younger, freshly divorced lawyer with whom it appears at first he has nothing in common with, but soon finds much more than he bargained for as they embark on an at times tumultuous but ultimately fulfilling fifteen-year relationship, navigating the threads of vulnerability, grief, friendship, and love.

rejected soulmates support group

the world has begun to move past the singular thinking that one is incomplete without their soulmate. henry knows that many people live long, fulfilling lives on their own or with a partner that might not have been fate's first choice for them. but at heart he's always been a hopeless romantic, and when fate decides to take his soulmate's life before they've even met one another yet on the tail end of the still-raw grief of losing his father, it feels as if the world is against him. lonely and lost, henry reluctantly seeks out support in the form of a small group that meets once a week, each member bringing their own perspective of loss to the circle. he'd thought he'd decided on staying alone for the rest of his life, but alex, a kind, curious empath with plenty of baggage of his own, might be the fresh perspective he needs to give love another try.

the simple life au

as part of their damage control tour, alex and henry are forced to take part in a reboot of the show 'The Simple Life' with a twist -- they'll spend five episodes between texas and washington and five in the uk, taking turns learning what each other's day-to-day looks like. between the press junkets and lazy rivers in the states and the ballrooms and etiquette training in london, both of them find themselves with more empathy for the other than they'd anticipated. the cameras capture not only their fast friendship but the beginning of a burgeoning, unexpected romance as well, defying their initial objective and sparking tentative optimism for a previously impossible future. they're still far from free, though, as both countries have their best interests in mind and full control over what narrative is aired to the world. it's going to take a leap of faith to make it work, but alex is more than ready to show henry how to jump.

speak easy

alex, a computer science major, has never met a number he didn't like. until he starts failing the poetry section of his mandatory english course. encouraged to seek out a tutor, his professor points him toward henry, a known writer and fellow student that always seems to evade alex's attempts to get to know him more deeply. henry leads him through his own self-proclaimed five step program to becoming a 'poet', strengthening his voice and ultimately helping him pass the course. but finding his voice means visiting parts of himself that alex had previously kept locked up tight or hadn't even known were there in the first place, and sharing his realizations with henry forms a bond between them that not even the journals-full of prose passed back and forth can scratch the surface of. that won't stop him from trying, though.

+

detroit become human inspired au

henry and pez run a safe haven for those who were once machines, deemed faulty for having developed genuine humanity and facing imminent decommission if found out. the next evaluation is in less than 24 hours, and alex's humanity is at 94%. luckily, he makes it to henry just in time.

midnight cowboy

alex, the lead singer of the widely known and highly acclaimed band midnight cowboy, is henry's biggest guilty pleasure—which is saying quite a lot. as a professional escort for the rich and elite, almost none of his pleasure is guilty these days. it feels like a fever dream when he gets the request from alex himself asking to spend a night together. he's long since being anyone's experiment, but with alex, unfortunately, henry finds he enjoys the idea of being some kind of first. (is 'only' too much to ask for?)

gynecologist henry

alex has done the college thing. the dream job thing. the casual, short term relationship thing. on paper, he has everything he ever said he wanted. it'd just be nice if he had someone to share it with sometimes. it'd be even nicer if his sister would stop trying to set him up with her gynecologist, who evidently finds himself in the same position.

+1 for the let's talk about sex! series

henry attends therapy in brooklyn once alex has moved in and things have slowed down a bit. it's predictably difficult but for the better, until they begin to cover the topic of his past relationships -- more specifically, sex. facing realizations that can no longer be shoved away, henry confides in alex and they reevaluate what intimacy might look like for them in the wake of healing from trauma.

+2 for the let's talk about sex! series

henry has to switch antidepressants and worries that his decreased libido will cause issues with his and alex's active sex life.

+3 for the let's talk about sex! series

henry arrives home early one night to find alex touching himself, which prompts a conversation about alex's past partners, misplaced shame, and self-pleasure within intimate relationships.

chauffeur alex

alex is the personal driver for henry, secret writer and infamous royal who'd abdicated and come to the states in his 20's to live freely and to marry his husband. now in his near-forties, the glamour and novelty of his story having long since worn off alongside his failing marriage, henry finds that alex is the only one he can confide in without fear -- and who is convinced that henry deserves so much more than he's getting. the last thing either of them need is to get feelings involved, but neither can say they tried as hard as they should've to have stopped them.

+

texan slang +1's

henry's been learning spanish already for the last few years in an effort to connect more with alex and his family. he did not, however, prepare for the myriad of texan-ism's that he encounters once they're back in austin, which is beginning to seem like a language all its own.

aftercare (+4 for the let's talk about sex! series)

neither alex nor henry have been in a serious relationship before and are unfamiliar with aftercare since it isn’t something they had with their previous partners. after a particularly intimate and intense round of lovemaking, they find themselves both feeling a little lost and restless, leading to a conversation about how they can best be there for each other after sex going forward. 

bottoming 101 (+5 for the let's talk about sex! series)

alex wants to bottom for the first time post-canon. henry walks him through the process—even the not-so-glamorous parts—and alex experiences a newfound appreciation for the previously unknown efforts that they go to to express their love.

dom bottom alex

self explanatory, really.

.

plus probably a lot of random ideas and/or add-on's to current series!

.

.

.

tags (no pressure!):

@kiwiana-writes @rmd-writes @everwitch-magiks @run-for-chamo-miles @firenati0n

@zwiazdziarka @miharaikko @littlemisskittentoes @judasofsuburbia @anchoredarchangel

@suseagull5914 @porcelainmortal @nocoastposts @clockwrkpendrxgon @sophie1973

@iboatedhere @getmehighonmagic @smc-27 @cha-melodius @tintagel-or-cockleshells

@caterpills @eusuntgratie @inexplicablymine @happiness-of-the-pursuit @sparklepocalypse

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @wordsofhoneydew @cricketnationrise @whimsymanaged @myheartalivewrites

@junebugclaremontdiaz @hypnostheory @blueeyedgrlwrites @futureseaempress @ninzied

@tinyarmedtrex @dizzymisslizzie @clottedcreamfudge @kj-bee @largepeachicedtea

@miss-minnelli @bananzie @starrypiscesao3 @fairflowered @4rthurfox

+ OPEN TAG please feel free to join in, and also if you're an artist feel free to modify it to include what art you're excited to make in 2025!

see you all soon! x

[jazziejax]

𝐂𝐨𝐳𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬…

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black! Fem! Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲- a unexpected night in with your ex turns into something you both wanted deep down.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬- third person, 18+, NSFW, MDI, fingering, kissing, spit, let me know if I missed anything

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I don’t really know how to write smut, this was my first time so I’m not sure if this is good or not. Let me know what you guys think. I might not ever write smut again, this was a little awkward for me. But, I also did like it because Kelvin is super cute and sexy to me.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 4,967+

The sound of keys jingling didn’t wake the sleeping woman on the sofa. She was in a deep sleep as the man entered her small space, moving to sit down the bags he had after locking the door. He let out a sigh as he stepped into the small area that separated the living room and the kitchen. He placed his hands on his hips, looking at the sight before him.

The brown-skinned woman laid out on the couch on her stomach, wearing what looked to be one of his shirts, which rode up to show she only had her panties on the bottom. She was softly snoring with her face smushed against one of the throw pillows. Her head was angled towards the television to show she fell asleep enjoying the show, which was playing the ending scene of the movie ‘NOPE’ by Jordan Peele. The small coffee table in front of the couch was littered with small candy wrappers, some falling to the floor due to the wind from the ceiling fan.

Kelvin couldn’t help but grin at the sight of her, even though there was nothing inherently special about it. To a stranger, this sight was something as simple as an attractive woman sleeping on her couch. But to him, it was more than that. His heart just lurched at the sight of her. Her smooth skin glowed under the light of the television. How the rise and fall of her breathing made her butt poke out more from under the shirt, as well as her arched leg. How her face was being against her pillow made her lips pucker. He couldn’t help but lick his bottom lip at the sight of her.

After slipping out of his sneakers, Kelvin then padded his way over to the couch. He squatted down next to her, reaching his hand out to place it on her back. “Baby,” He hummed, rubbing his hand up and down her back. “It’s time to get up, you’ve been sleeping all day.” He said softly, watching her face.

The woman’s brows twitched, her lips slightly scrunching. That was all the reaction he got from her, causing him to pursue his lips. “Come on, baby. You know sleeping in late messes up your sleeping schedule and you hate that.” He said again, moving his hand down her back to creep his way under the fabric of the loose shirt. This caused the tee to rise even more, showing more of her plump bottom in her cute cotton panties. He could also feel her smooth back under his fingers, running his pads up and down the curve in the center. Her face didn’t change, if anything it looked like she got more comfortable within her slumber, humming at the feeling of his fingers on her skin.

Kelvin couldn’t help the small grin that made its ways onto his face, his ears delighted by the soft sounds she was subtly making.

“See, I tried to do be cute with you but obviously that’s not what you listen to so I’m going back to my ways.” He began as he adjusted himself in his squat, about to rise. And before he could even think about it, he smacked her exposed butt cheek. “Get up, girl, I got food.” He said before licking his lips and standing to make it way back over to the kitchen, though tempted to watch it recoil under his pressure.

The woman on the couch groaned, sitting up with a hiss and she clenched her bottom. “Dammit Kelvin.” She groaned in a groggy voice, still not used to the feeling of the unexpected wake up no matter how many times he did it. As well as the feeling she always got afterwards that sent a shock of arousal through her body, which she thought couldn’t be good to immediately wake up with.

“I got your favorite.” The man grinned over at her from the kitchenette as he began to take takeout buns from the bags he sat down in earlier. She furrowed her brows, her eyes adjusting to the world as she gazed at him as she sat up. “What are you doing here?” She asked, now sitting on the soft sting that he left as she scratched her back.

“Saving your life and your bad attitude.” He said, but even falling at her already sour mood as she placed the food on the counter and disposed of the bags. She smacked her lips, looking over at him. “Dramatic.” She mumbled to herself.

“Not dramatic.” Kelvin heard her. “Nala said you weren’t feeling well and that you fell asleep. That was five hours ago and it’s 10:30pm. You haven’t eaten and you hate it when your sleep schedule gets messed up.” He explained as he opened the containers around him, filled with different varieties of food from this stakeshack down the street. “You’re blessed to have me.” He stated as he picked up and fry and ate hit, rolling his neck and eyes at the woman.

The woman could only blink at him from across the room, watching as he raised his eyebrows at her before going back to his food. “Come eat.” He demanded.

“Why is Nala always telling my business.” She playfully hissed, ignoring what he said and throwing her body into the back of the couch in a small tantrum.

“Because she loved you and you don’t tend to give a damn about yourself sometimes. Now, I’m not going to say come get this food one for a time.” He said again. His tone was much for fine this time, catching her avoidance of his eyes and all-around presence since he’d been in this side of the room. His weight was leaned onto his hands, which held up his figure against the countertop, his eyes locked on her. A lot of people didn’t expect such an aura from Kelvin, and that’s what about him that always drew her in.

One would never suspect a man like him to have this intimidating nature, and he quite honestly didn’t know he had it either but it was a mix of everything about him. His non wavering confidence, his charismatic demeanor, he always had it and he always knew how to turn it on and off. All that with a serious tone, his sharp gaze and a locked jaw, it had everyone freezing and submitting to his will.

That’s why she stood up from the couch then, no questions asked as she trudged her half bare figure over to the other side of the counter. Her arms was crossed and she avoided eye contact with him the whole way, even thought his gaze was not leaving her from until she stood directly across from him.

“Good.” He said, picking up another fry and popping it into his mouth. She glanced up at him from the food, watching as his jaw flexed as he chewed. “I was in a hurry so I just got your usual down the street. A double cheeseburger with American and Jalapeño cheese and mushrooms. And a large fry.” He said, not looking up at her as she gathered her meal so it was layer out in front of her. She just nodded, arms crossed as her mouth almost began to water at the sight of the food in front of her. She was quick to open the paper containers the greasy food was left in, eating her first meal of the day at almost 11:00pm.

It was silent between them as they ate. The silence between was’t as awkward as it could be due to all the noise that surround them. Amazon Prime starting another movie in the television after the last one stopped. The ceiling fan with its soft hum as it cooled the already drafty apartment. The sound of their chewing as they devoured their food, her faster then him since she was wasting like a started woman. And the sound of police sirens outside, maybe even an ambulance if you really focused.

She took a large sip from the lemonade he got her before placing the thin cut down. “What are you doing here?” She asked, not taking her eyes off her food.

Kelvin glanced up at her, seeing her stilling looking down as she dipped her fries into an extra jalapeño cheese dip. “I heard you didn’t feeling well.” He stated simply. She shook her head, stilling looking down at her food. “No.” She said before stuffing a cheesy fry into her mouth. Kelvin quirked a brow at her.

“No?”

“No, I mean, what are you doing here, Kelvin.” She said, now glancing up and, to her surprise, locking eyes with him. She blinked. “I don’t like you out here, it’s not safe.”

“I don’t like you out here.” He said firmly, raising his head more to look at her. She only licked her lips, letting out a small sigh as she glanced away from him. “I told you not to come back.” She said.

“And if I don’t, who’s going to check on you?” He questioned as if the answer was obvious.

“Nala still lives downstairs.” She added quickly.

“Nala hasn’t been in her apartment in two weeks because she’s been with Aaron.”

“She calls.” She shrugged, her brows furrowed as she started to get annoyed.

“Well, today is just one of those days where she was checking and you weren’t answering. I was already out so I decided to stop by and calm her nerves.” Kelvin answered back just as quickly as she did, moving to cross his arms as she looked at the girl who was very focused on her spicy cheesy dip. She shoved a fry in her mouth, physically stopping herself from saying ‘And your nerves?’. She didn’t know if she could handle his answer.

“Well, I’m fine, so…” She trailed off with a shrug, offering him a small glance. Kelvin just gave her a once-over. “Yeah, we’ll see.” He said. She frowned at him, sitting down her cheese. “I am fine, Kelvin.” She said firmly, but the man had already started cleaning up his trash in front of him. “Okay.” He said, offering her a glance as he tidied up.

“It’s nothing serious.” She said, finishing her food as well, subconsciously tracking after him as he moved to throw the trash in the bin on the other end of the counter, on the floor. “I almost ate a whole bag of small Reece’s cups and Kisses. You know how I get when I have too much sugar.” She said, gesturing over to the candy wrappers that lay on the table and floor. That seems to catch his interest, the man moving to pick up the wrappers from the living room, the woman telling behind him still.

“Mmhmm.” He said as he gather the trash into his large hands and then moved to dispose of it as well, sidestepping the woman the blocked his path. He was about to turn and face the living room again but she was already in front of him, her arms crossed. “I’m fine.” She said firmly.

“Why are you trying to convince me that you’re fine?” He asked, folding his arms as well. They blinked at him. “I'm not trying to convince you. I’m just telling you.”

“And I said okay.” He stated. “It’s not like that’s gonna make me leave.” He scoffed with a chortle, making his way around her. She frowned, looking at the empty spot he left before her. She quickly turned just as he planted his rear on the sofa.

“What do you mean?” She questioned, her tone less hostile than before. Kelvin picked up the remote from the table and began looking through her subscriptions. “I’m not leaving.” He said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“You’re staying?” She asked, her eyes widening slightly. Kevin glanced over at her. “Yeah, that’s, like, the definition of not leaving.” He grinned, not hiding the way his eyes traced her figure. From her smooth legs to her round shoulder that hung out the large neck of the shirt, that also didn’t seem to cover enough. She crossed her arms tighter around herself, feeling exposed under his gaze, but that only brought attention to her unsupported breasts that were now being held up by her forearms. She cleared her throat from its dry spell at his gaze.

“Why are you staying?” She asked.

“Because I can.” He shrugged. She jerked her head back at him. “Uh, no.” She stated firmly. “You can’t just make plans to stay at someone else place without permission. This is my house.” She said. Kelvin shifted in his seat, leaning further into the back of the couch with his crotch further out, his legs spreading as he got comfortable. He only turned his gaze to her, still facing the television. “Do you want me to leave?” He asked coyly. And they both knew what he was doing. He was using that silver tongue of his to get what he wanted and they both knew it was going to work. All Kelvin had to do was bat his eyelashes or smile with those gorges teeth and he could get anything he wanted. And he could never say no to that outrageously handsome but somewhat adorable face.

She pursed her lips as she looked down at her feet, her bare toes padding against the brown wood out of nerves. “No.” She mumbled, a slight pout in her lips. Kelvin couldn’t hide his grin, and she wasn’t looking in the first place. He had her right where he wanted her.

Their relationship was complicated. From past lovers to co-workers to…whatever it was now, there was always this odd cat and mouse game between you. Kelvin has always been the same, charming and funny, used to hide his true vulnerability and deep wants. She was blunt and sarcastic, even though he had an immense amount of love and affection to give. They were sort of perfect, but those veils they rarely let down led to a toxic path. There was never any truth between them, things were always said but weren’t to be taken serious, even if they seemed like it. Passive aggressiveness and stubborn attitudes from both ends. It was all so destructive.

But no matter how bad it got, they both knew the feelings they still held for one another. She would always love him. He was some of her best memories, her greatest times. He showed and taught her so much, that it was hard for her to go through life without thinking of him. He was the angel on her shoulder and when she created, he was her muse. Pained but beautiful. He was everything she wanted to give her love to.

Kelvin could never hate her. He could never not care for her. She was this alluring force that pulled at his heart wherever he went. She was the angelic voice he heard whenever he was speaking to another woman, or whenever he booked a new role. She was the warm embrace he felt every time he went to bed at night and woke in the morning, taking God that the sun has risen, he has seen another day, and that her memory has never left his mind. She was as clear as day and if he had to create her form from memory, he would get it to the last detail.

They had their down, which they were still in, but boy were their highs above the clouds.

She looked up from her toes, seeing his eyes were still on her. He then patted the space next to him. “Come here, honey.” He said softly, and she could feel the warmth spread through her insides.

She made her way over to him with little hesitation. Kelvin’s eyes never left her face, angling his head up as she got closer, even though she never looked him in the eye until she stood above him. He thought she was going to take a seat in the place he patted, but to both of their surprise, she sat herself in his lap. Her legs straddled his and his hands subconsciously made their way to her thighs. Kelvin’s gaze was locked on her’s, the pair just looking at one another.

She bright her hands up to his shoulders, beginning to play with the strings on his back jacket. She dint stay there long, her fingers moving to the silver zipper in the middle of his chest, feeling the heat radiating off of him. She pulled the zipper down slowly, her eyes groaned in her hands, too nervous to look at the man she knew was looking at her. Kelvin watched her movements the whole way, looking at her face to see if he could see her thoughts through her skin, only glancing down when the garment was fully unzipped.

He didn’t move a muscle, his fingers still on the outside of her warm and bare thighs. At first he thought she was going to pull the jacket off, showing his black wife pleaser underneath. But she didn’t take the jacket off. She slipped her hands down his torso slowly, feeling the slightly tensing muscles underneath her fingers from the agony she was putting Kelvin through with her touch. She then let her fingers drag her closer, the mumble limbs slipping around his waist and towards his back. She then had her arms wrapped around his waist, her chest against his and her head on his shoulder. Kelvin blinked, thinking that this whole interaction was going to go another route, but it instead seemed that she just wanted to cuddle.

But he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her in closer on his lap. His breath lightly hitched at the feeling of her heated area rubbing against his own. He could also feel her lush chest against his from under her shirt, her nipples now pert against his chis hard chest.

Her hands didn’t stop their movements on him once her arms were around his waist. She kept her fingers softly rubbing against his back as she leaned her head against his shoulder, her nose taking in his nice bergamot smell.

“Oh, honey.” He cooed as he rubbed his hands up and down her back, riding her shirt up. He then leaned his head on top of hers, the skin of his cheek connecting with her warm forehead. “It’s okay. You’re just a little under the weather, that’s all.” He said softly before placing his lips on the closest skin of hers, which was on the corner of her mouth. Her breath hitched at the feeling of his lips near hers and she moved to follow his, only to make contact with his neck. She wasn’t thinking as herself anymore as she began to kiss at his neck, small pecks repetitively hitting the same spot.

Kelvin hummed at the feeling of her lips on his skin, his hands on her hips tightening. “I’ll make you feel better baby, don’t worry.” He mumbled, his large hands running down that arch of her back. She continued to kiss at his neck, curving under his touch that stopped at her ass. She hummed against his skin, her kisses becoming deeper as she began sucking at the spot under his jaw.

Kelvin’s hands tracked over her rear and back to her thighs, cupping the bottom of her cheeks. He’d relate the action again and again, his tracing slow and deliberate. She hummed at the feeling of his hands moving over her barely covered bottom then all the way back up to her back, pushing her shirt up further and further each time, uncovering her breasts. She felt his chest vibrate as hummed. He’d stop every now and then, grabbing handfuls of her ass, meshing the fat together in his hands as he hummed in enjoyment.

She subconsciously started to grind her hips against his, caught up in the feeling he was giving her with his simple touch. Kelvin hissed when her center met his bulge briefly, his grip tightening on her ass cheeks. She hissed as he pulled her bottom, feeling a rush leave and wet the center of her panties. She flexed her thoughts around his, causing him to chuckle.

“You like that?” Kelvin asked her in her ear. She hummed in a response, the sound coming almost coming out as a moan. “Yeah?” He grinned, his fingers tips inching closer to her center. She agreed again, her kisses becoming sloppy on his neck. Her breath then hitched as Kelvin began to rub his hand against her heat, dampening the grey underwear further. She let out a moan against his neck at the unexpected contact, her cool breath hitting the salvia that gathered around the hockey she gave him. Kelvin softly hissed at the feeling of her wetness against his fingers through the cloth and the cool air hitting the stinging spot on his neck.

Feeling a newfound scene of arousal, she placed her lips feverishly against his skin again, moving her lips from under his jaw, to the side of his neck and then all the way to under his ear. Kelvin kept a slow pace as he rubbed her pussy from the back. She was rolling her hips against his aar the feeling, her lips still attached to his skin. He paused his rubbing to gather the sides of the cloth in his hands, pulling it taunt at her center. She moaned out again, feeling the pressure against her clit. Her lips never detached from him, moving up to nip at his ears as she let out soft noses of pleasure.

Kelvin then moved the fabric to the side, giving view to the fire between them. She felt the cool air hit her lips, not long having to deal with the shiver before Kelvin’s fingers were rubbing up and down against her. “Ooh, baby, it’s so much.” He moaned at the feeling of her in his hands, the wetness gathering around his fingers. She gave his ears a few licks and bites before moving her way to his face. Her breaths were ragged against his cheek, basking in the feeling he was becoming within her from just swipes at her labia.

“Fuck.” She sighed, her hips moving to match the pace of his hand strokes from around her body. “Ohh Kelvin.” She moaned, her lips still against his skin, although not moving. He hummed, turning his head towards her. “Yes, baby?” He questioned immediately, his eyes taking in her flushed face. She didn’t answer, only looking at his relaxed expression as she felt a knot in her stomach. Kelvin didn’t seem to expect an answer either, his eyes netting hers, taking in the sight of what his fingers were doing to her.

“You’re so wet already.” He said, his words breathy against her slightly opened mouth that was letting out equally breathy moans. He didn’t take his eyes off her hers, the pair just looking at eachother as he spoke to her. “You feel so good in my hands. But you know that, right? Hmm? All wet and ready for me even when you’re sick. Such a good girl.” He hummed seductively, watching and feeling as his words affected her. He knew it would drive her crazy, she lived for his words, not matter how small. She could feel herself tightening on the inside at the utterance of anything he said. Overwhelmed by his small praise, she lent forward, placing her lips into his plump ones that’s been rubbing against hers as he spoke.

She then let out a moan into his mouth just as she felt two of his fingers enter her. The feeling had her biting down in his juice lips, inciting a muffled moan of slight pain and pleasure to come from his mouth. The slight sting didn’t last long, the woman moving her tongue to lick at his bottom lip, as if trying to soothe the pain. She then began sucking and nipping at the soft appendage, not caring for the wet mess it was making in the both of their faces. One hand had made its way to his neck while the other was sifting down his body to palm at the bulge in his sweats just beneath her center. Kelvin, caught up in the kissing and fingering, brought his other hand to her breast under her shirt that was almost off anyways. He caressed her supple nipples, rubbing his fingers around the nub that formed, all while his fingers sped up.

She was overwhelmed with pleasure, the feelings of his hands everywhere while his lips drifted across her face. She could barely focus her hands on his bulge. She just kept palming at it, her moans getting louder from just the thought of pulling it out and going crazy on it. “Fuck, Kelvin, oh my goodness.” She sighed, her eyes closing as his fingers sped up.

Kelvin hummed against her lips as he felt her throb around his fingers. “Come on, give it to me. I know you can do it, baby.” His words enticed more moans from her, the woman practically whining as she tried to focus on something. His other hand was still at her titties, pinching and rubbing on her nipples, while his fingers worked magic inside of her. “I want it all over my fingers so I can taste it afterward. Be good and give it all to me, baby.” He continued to speak. She then felt waves of warmth cascade across her limbs to match the near sob in her throat, her breath pausing as his fingers continued.

He kept his kisses again her skin going as he rode out her orgasm. His lips laid small pecks against her open mouth as she caught her breath. She was silent as felt Kelvin finally pull his hand away from her, watching as he brought the soaked fingers up to his supple lips. Every trace of her against his hand was washed away by his tongue. His eyes were trained on her while hers watched his mouth. Once he was finished, she didn’t waste any time to place her lips against his. She stuck her tongue into his mouth, licking at any traces of herself on his. She could feel her taste rubbing against his own as she moved her hips on his crotch, still feeling the bulge he had in his pants. Kelvin pulled back once he felt it and she bang sucking on his lip again, knowing that this was only going to go further if he didn’t stop it.

He began to run his palms up and down her legs again, calming her down from her high while he showered her temple with whispered praises and sweet kisses. Once her breathing was even, she found herself still in his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck as they just enjoyed the feeling in each other’s arms. His lips were resting on her temple when she turned her head to see felt place her lips against his. The kiss was chaste, the woman pulling back to look him in the eyes. Kelvin’s eyes just jumped between hers, her pupils still blown and reflecting the soft light of the living room. She gave him one more small peck before closing her eyes and rubbing her nose against his, causing the man to chuckle.

“Okay, now you’re getting clingy.” He grinned, looking at the close face. “Like a cat.” He said, but his voice was soft, rubbing his hands up and down her back as she basked in his proximity. “Let’s get you to bed.” He stated when he reached in a set from her, the woman just resting against him. This was usual for them, she tended to always, sort of, shut down after being intimate with Kelvin. She liked being in his care and she knew he would go above and beyond for her. But she also hated when her mind gained clarity hours later and she remembered that they weren’t together anymore.

He stood up with the woman still in his arms, her legs moving to wrap around his waist as he moved down the small hallway off the wall of the television and into the room to his right. The room was dark but he was an expert at moving about in the area at this point, dodging the clothes she had in the floor to place her on the bed. He gave her a kiss before he stood back up.

“I’ll be right back.” He said before leaving the room. He returned seconds later with a damp cloth. He cleaned her before going through her drawers to grab a fresh pair of underwear. Her eyes didn’t leave his form once, watching as he handled her with care. She could feel her heart skip a beat every time he looked up, making eye contact. He would flash a quick smile before continuing. Once he was done, he discarded his sweats and his shirt, moving to place himself in bed next to her. Kelvin usually liked to be the little spoon and that’s how they usually slept, but she clung to him as soon as he planted his rear into the mattress. He chuckled, leaning back with the girl in his arms, her head on his chest, rubbing her fingers up and down the apex of his pectorals. He kissed her forehead before settling back into the pillows. And they drifted off to sleep, their breaths evening out wrapped in each other’s arms.

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (06)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 06 - Passed

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 07

PREV : Chapter 05

All of you waited in silence as the pink-clad guards moved methodically, cleaning up the aftermath. They placed the corpses into pink and black coffins adorned with neat pink ribbons. However, the fresh blood on the rainbow circle remained untouched.

You had managed to calm your trembling body. Even so, you braced yourself for more gunshots, knowing they would come again as long as you stayed here. You told yourself you needed to get used to it, no matter how impossible it seemed.

But then, two booming gunshots echoed through the air. Your heart jumped as you looked over in fear. A triangle-masked guard had just finished shooting a corpse lying in an open coffin. Without pause, the guard turned and walked away.

Your gaze shifted to player 001, who watched the scene unfold with an unsettling calmness. He hadn’t flinched during the earlier gunshots either, and now, as if detached from the horror around him, he sat unbothered.

You began to wonder if he was used to this kind of environment. How could he be so composed while the rest of you barely held it together?

That was when player 001 noticed you staring. His emotionless expression softened slightly as he turned to you and asked, “Are you okay?”

You nodded and averted your gaze, avoiding further eye contact.

But player 001 seemed unconvinced. “Oh. I’m worried. You were trembling too much earlier.”

You hesitated before replying, “I tend to do that when I’m… too shocked. I think it’s normal, though.”

Suddenly, player 001 leaned in slightly. With a careful tone, he said, “In my work, I've learned that this habit occurs when something reminds you of difficult moments. If it happens again, you can steady yourself by gripping my arm… or even my jacket, if that feels easier.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, feeling a sudden warmth rush to your cheeks. The unexpected observation struck you deeply, leaving you both flustered and slightly vulnerable.

How did he know? Could he read you so effortlessly? But he was right. Your trembling wasn’t just from shock. It stemmed from buried memories clawing their way to the surface. His gaze was sharp yet unintrusive, his words cutting through your defenses with a gentleness that caught you off guard. In a way, you felt understood, as though he’d reached into a part of you you rarely let others see.

“Maybe,” you admitted softly. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Player 001 nodded. “If you ever need to talk about it, I’m here.”

Your gaze stayed on the sandy floor beneath you as he stared at you for a moment before he leaned back to give you space.

His words lingered, offering comfort even as the weight of the room pressed on you again. For now though, you tried to focus on steadying yourself, one breath at a time.

“The next teams, please get ready,” the announcer stated.

The teams scheduled to play next rose from the floor. Among them was Team 3, a group with a few familiar faces. You recognized player 120, the mother (149) and son (007) duo, and the shaman (044). The remaining two members were new to you: a petite girl (095) and a man with slight stubble (246).

You watched with concern, silently hoping they could pass this hexathlon.

At the Ddakji event, things didn’t start well. They failed several times, and the tension among them grew palpable. Player 120 leaned toward player 095, who was handling the game, and said something quietly. Whatever she said seemed to work, as the Ddakji tile finally flipped on the next try. The team cheered and advanced to the next event.

“I can’t watch,” Jung-bae muttered, bringing a hand to his forehead. “It’s making me anxious.”

“I hope they make it,” you said softly, drawing glances from player 001, player 222 and Jung-bae. “The mother seems so gentle and nurturing. She reminds me of my own mom.”

“Me too,” Jung-bae agreed, his tone matching your somberness.

Team 3 reached the Flying Stone event next, where it was the son’s turn. His first throw missed, forcing the team to retrieve the stone. They had clearly planned for this scenario, moving forward in unison despite their tied legs. When they reached the stone, they reversed back in sync, saving precious time.

“We could save some time walking backward like that,” player 001 pointed out.

“They’re actually faster going backward,” Jung-bae added, his voice tinged with surprise.

The team returned to the starting line, and this time, player 007 succeeded in hitting the tombstone. Their collective scream of relief and excitement echoed across the field. The other players, yourself included, gasped in astonishment before breaking into supportive cheers. You got on your knees, caught between suspense and excitement, marveling at how quickly they had completed the first two events.

Next came the Gonggi event, where it was the mother’s turn. Her first two tries ended in failure, and a hush fell over the spectators. She steadied herself before trying again. This time, she succeeded, earning cheers not only from her team but also from the watching players. You cheered along. Beside you, Jung-bae and Dae-ho had risen from the floor, shouting “One, two” for Team 3.

Team 3 advanced to the fourth event: Tuho. It was player 246’s turn. His first two arrows missed the vase entirely, causing tension to rise. But then, with a steady hand, he threw the next two arrows perfectly, each landing squarely inside the vase. Now he was left with one final arrow.

You shot up from the floor, your heart pounding as you watched in suspense. Player 246 took his time, carefully aiming the last arrow. The silence in the room was palpable. When he finally threw it, the arrow arced smoothly through the air and landed precisely in the vase. Cheers erupted from the crowd, yourself included, as players hollered and clapped in celebration. Even player 246 looked stunned before breaking into a grin.

With Tuho complete, Team 3 moved on to the fifth event: Spinning Top. This time, it was player 044, the shaman’s turn. Everyone fell silent as she picked up the top and began wrapping the string around it. However, it quickly became apparent that she didn't have experience on this. The string slipped repeatedly as she muttered prayers under her breath, her chants growing louder with each failed attempt.

At one point, she stopped entirely, her eyes wild as she muttered incoherently about gods abandoning them.

Then, out of nowhere, player 120 slapped her. Hard. Twice. The sound of each slap echoed through the room, drawing audible gasps from the watching players. A thin line of blood trickled from the shaman’s nose, but her eyes seemed to clear. Player 120's threat and the shock of it snapped her focus back, and on her next attempt, she succeeded in spinning the top flawlessly.

Cheers erupted again, louder this time. Player 222, player 001, and Gi-hun rose from the floor, shouting encouragement. Even player 001 joined in as the crowd began chanting, “One, two!” alongside Team 3 as they hobbled toward the final event.

They reached the sixth and last event: Jegi. The announcer’s voice rang out, “You must kick the Jegi five times.”

It was player 120’s turn, and she requested that everyone look away. Respecting her wishes, you, your team, and all the spectators turned around, granting her the privacy she needed. A heavy silence filled the air. Then, the sound of paper Jegi being kicked into the air broke through. You couldn’t help but count the kicks under your breath.

When the fifth kick echoed softly, you and everyone else turned back simultaneously, anticipation thick in the air. All eyes locked onto player 120, waiting to see if she had passed.

The circle-masked guard raised their arms, forming an ‘O,’ and the announcer’s voice rang out, “Pass.”

A wave of cheers and hollers erupted, filling the room with pure joy. You bounced on the spot, unable to contain your excitement. Team 3 began their final march toward the finish line, their tied legs moving as quickly as possible. The entire room joined in, chanting, “One, two!” in rhythm with their steps. Only six seconds remained on the timer.

“Come on! Go faster!” you shouted, willing them to make it.

As they crossed the finish line, the timer hit zero. Not only had Team 3 completed the hexathlon, but Team 4 had also finished just in time. For this round, no one was eliminated.

The cheers became deafening, an explosion of shared relief and happiness. You found yourself jumping up and down, caught up in the collective joy. The entire space vibrated with the sound of stomping feet and jubilant voices, a stark contrast to the fear that had gripped everyone earlier.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed player 222 bouncing with happiness despite her pregnancy. Dae-ho, looking visibly nervous for her belly, hovered protectively. Overcome with emotion, you rushed to them, pulling both into a tight group hug.

As you stepped back, an arm draped over your shoulders. You turned to see player 001, his face lit up with ecstatic energy. Without hesitation, you wrapped an arm around his waist, and the two of you bounced together like overjoyed children, cheering at the top of your lungs. The infectious energy made you laugh when you saw Jung-bae grabbing hold of Gi-hun, the two of them joining in the celebratory jumps with you two.

The atmosphere was electric. Happiness radiated from every corner of the room. Players who had been strangers before were now celebrating together in one resounding cheer of triumph and unity. For the first time in what felt like forever, the room was alive with hope.

After Team 3 and Team 4, many teams managed to pass the hexathlon. It seemed as though watching those teams succeed had given them confidence and a sense of strategy. Still, not everyone was so fortunate.

Some teams failed to make it to the finish line in time. One team came heartbreakingly close, just a handful of steps away, before the timer hit zero. The guards acted immediately, the sound of gunfire cutting through the air as the entire team was eliminated.

Each time it became clear a team was running out of time, the other players cowered, bracing themselves for the inevitable gunshots. You were no different. Sometimes, you locked arms with the adorable player 222; her small presence was actually comforting. Other times, you gripped player 001’s jacket at his back, steadying yourself against the dread that hung heavy in the room.

Certain games consistently slowed teams down: Flying Stone, Tuho, and Spinning Top. Gonggi occasionally caused delays too, but you found yourself agreeing that Tuho was one of the most challenging. Despite the vase’s wide opening, the 1.5-meter distance made accurately throwing the arrows a daunting task.

Time passed in a blur. Though you knew you should feel hungry, the constant threat of death gnawed at your nerves, subduing any physical need.

Finally, it was your team’s turn. You and another team were the last ones to play the game. The room felt eerily quiet without an audience of players watching.

The six of you lined up according to the games you were assigned to play. From left to right, it was player 222, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, you, player 001, and Gi-hun. Guards moved methodically, tying your legs together. As they worked, Jung-bae spoke up, breaking the tense silence.

“It’s a little sad that we have no audience, isn’t it?”

You nodded silently, already feeling the weight of the nerves pressing down on you. The thought of playing Tuho soon sent a fresh wave of anxiety through you.

Next to you, Dae-ho seemed lost in his own thoughts, his eyes unfocused. Jung-bae nudged him lightly. “Hey, are you scared?”

Dae-ho straightened immediately, his tone snapping into military precision. “No, sir! It’s quiet and easier to focus without anyone watching.”

Jung-bae turned to the other team. “See you at the finish line.”

The other team shouted encouragement to you and your teammates, their voices filled with determination. They wrapped their arms around each other in preparation.

You and your team followed suit. You wrapped your left arm around Dae-ho’s right and your other arm around player 001’s left. Letting out a shaky sigh, you tried to steady yourself when player 001’s voice broke through the tension.

“I believe in our team,” he said confidently, his calm tone cutting through the nervous energy. He paused, glancing at each of you in turn before adding, “Plus, we have the previous winner with us.”

His gaze rested on Gi-hun as he spoke, his words carrying a quiet sense of faith.

You nodded, drawing in a few deep breaths to center yourself. The sound of a gunshot rang out, signaling the start of the six-minute countdown. Your team and the other moved forward in unison, shouting “One, two!” in rhythm as you marched with your tied legs.

The first event, Ddakji, came quickly. Player 222 stepped forward and, with one decisive slam, flipped the other Ddakji tile successfully. Cheers erupted from your team and you moved forward to the next event.

At Flying Stone, it was Jung-bae’s turn. His background as a baseball pitcher showed in his focused stance. Dae-ho stepped aside to give him space, and with a single throw, Jung-bae struck the tombstone dead center. The six of you erupted in cheers, excitement pushing you forward to the third event.

Now it was Dae-ho’s turn for Gonggi. The guard crouched to set up a small, low table for the game. Your team followed suit, lowering yourselves to watch. Once ready, Dae-ho’s hands moved with impressive speed, his motions a blur as he tossed and caught the dice. It was so quick you struggled to keep track of his movements.

When he caught all the dice in the air and opened his palm to reveal them, your team stared in stunned disbelief. The circle-masked guard formed an ‘O’ with their arms and declared, “Pass.”

Dae-ho let out a high-pitched scream of victory while the rest of you hollered in excitement. As the guard cleared the table from your path, your team rose together, already chanting “One, two!” as you hobbled forward to the next challenge.

Anxiety spiked sharply as you hobbled toward the next event. All the players before you had passed on their first try, and now it was your turn. The pressure weighed heavily on your mind. Tuho demanded precision. What if you fail on the first try? What if the second try doesn’t work either? What if you couldn’t land a single arrow?

The thoughts spiraled, tightening the knot in your stomach. Then you felt a hand gently rub your back. Glancing over, you saw it was player 001. His steady gaze met yours, and he nodded encouragingly. The simple gesture eased some of the tension, grounding you as you reached the Tuho zone.

The guard had already set up the vase and handed you five arrows. You exhaled deeply, trying to steady your nerves as you raised your right arm to aim the first arrow.

“You can do it! You can do it!” Jung-bae cheered enthusiastically.

“If you miss, we still have time!” Dae-ho added.

Player 001’s calm tone cut through the chaos. “Stay calm. Don’t think about the timer.”

Gi-hun chimed in. “Take all the time you need. Come on!”

Their encouragement was meant to help, but the overlapping voices became a chaotic jumble in your mind, like an out-of-tune orchestra conducted by panic itself. You tried to focus, but their combined efforts made you feel like a celebrity surrounded by overzealous fans offering contradictory advice.

Finally, your frustration boiled over.

“Please be quiet!” you blurted, raising your voice just enough to startle them into stunned silence.

The group froze, exchanging wide-eyed glances like kids caught passing notes in class. They nodded and zipped their lips. The sudden quiet felt like a gift from the heavens. You took a deep breath, turned back to the vase and lined up your shot.

Once you felt confident, you threw the first arrow. It arched gracefully and landed perfectly in the vase. Your teammates erupted in cheers but quickly quieted themselves as you prepared the next shot.

Trying to replicate your earlier throw, you lined up the second arrow and let it fly. It landed cleanly in the vase again. This time, your teammates couldn’t contain their excitement.

“You can do it!” Jung-bae shouted enthusiastically.

“One more! One more!” Dae-ho encouraged.

“Stay focused,” player 001 said, his tone calm and steady.

“You still have more arrows left, so don’t worry about it,” Gi-hun reminded you.

Their words lifted you rather than distracting you. You took a deep breath, aiming the third arrow with care. Exhaling slowly, you waited for the right moment before letting it go. The arrow flew true, landing perfectly in the vase once more.

Turning to the circle-masked guard, you held your breath. They raised their arms to form an ‘O,’ and the announcer’s voice rang out, “Pass.”

You let out a triumphant scream, your grin wide as your teammates cheered with equal excitement. The guards took the remaining arrows from your hand and removed the vase from the path. With renewed energy, your team moved forward.

“We’ve got plenty of time!” Jung-bae pointed out.

Your team reached the fifth event: Spinning Top. Player 001 began wrapping the string around the top with precision.

“There’s no rush. We have a lot of time,” Jung-bae reassured him.

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah, take your time.”

Dae-ho watched with a grin. “Damn, we might get through everything on the first attempt.”

Once the string was wrapped tightly, player 001 threw the top forward. But instead of spinning, it clattered awkwardly to the floor, landing with an anticlimactic thud. The silence that followed was heavy with surprise.

“It’s okay,” Gi-hun said, gesturing toward the timer. “We’ve got enough time.”

You nodded quickly and locked arms with Dae-ho and player 001. “Yeah, let’s not waste time. Let’s go pick it up.”

Your team began moving forward on your tied legs, chanting “One, two” in unison. When you reached the top, player 001 bent down to pick it up, and the six of you reversed back to the Spinning Top zone, maintaining your rhythm.

“No fun passing everything without a hitch,” Jung-bae commented optimistically.

“That’s right,” Dae-ho added. “You can’t grow without failure, right?”

Back in position, player 001 wrapped the strings around the top once again. You, Gi-hun, and Dae-ho took turns reassuring him.

“It’s okay. Just stay calm.”

“You can do it.”

“Don’t stress about it.”

Once the strings were secured, player 001 asked for space, and Gi-hun stepped back. Player 001 threw the top, but it flew to the back, landing awkwardly in the Tuho zone. The silence that followed was deafening.

“I’m sorry,” player 001 muttered.

“Let’s go pick it up,” Gi-hun said. “Alright, come on.”

With arms linked, your team shuffled backward to the Tuho zone.

You turned to player 001 as you moved. “We still have time. A couple of mistakes are nothing.”

“But are you sure you did this a lot as a kid?” Jung-bae quipped. “Throwing it backwards, now that’s a skill.”

When you arrived, player 001 bent down to retrieve the top but stayed hunched over for a few seconds longer than necessary.

“Get up, hurry. Are you taking a break or something?” Jung-bae urged, his tone filled with urgency.

Player 001 straightened and quickly began wrapping the strings again. The six of you made your way back to the Spinning Top zone.

“Hang on, hang on,” player 001 said as he withdrew his arms from yours and Gi-hun’s. “Let me do this.”

It was clear he was growing frustrated. Ever since his first failure, he had become quieter, his movements stiffer. The weight of the repeated mistakes was wearing on him, making his throws more clumsy and his demeanor increasingly tense.

The six of you arrived at the Spinning Top zone, and player 001 rushed to throw the top forward. It wobbled briefly before clattering to the floor – another failed attempt.

“Haish!” Dae-ho sighed loudly.

You noticed player 001 start to raise his hand as if to facepalm, but instead, he ran it through his hair, visibly agitated. While Gi-hun bent down to pick up the top, you patted player 001 on the back.

“Don’t stress about it. Come on, try again,” you said gently.

“What the hell is wrong with me?!” he suddenly shouted, his voice raw with anger and frustration. The outburst startled everyone; you and Dae-ho even flinched at the intensity.

Player 001’s frustration boiled over as he let out a scream. Then, to your horror, he slapped himself hard on both cheeks, berating himself and calling himself an idiot.

Reacting quickly, you grabbed his left arm closest to you while Gi-hun moved to stop him entirely.

“No one is blaming you!” Gi-hun said firmly.

Player 001 finally stilled, the tension in his shoulders easing as he took a shaky breath.

“Alright,” Gi-hun said, his voice steady. “Take a deep breath, okay? Try to think back to when you had fun playing this.”

You nodded encouragingly, adding your silent support. Player 001 straightened up. He took a deep breath, wrapped the string carefully, and threw the top forward once more. This time, it spun perfectly on the floor.

All of you erupted in cheers, your voices ringing out in pure delight as the guard gestured for you to proceed.

Linking arms again, your team hobbled forward to the final event: Jegi. It was Gi-hun’s turn. Without hesitation, he began kicking the paper Jegi. He made it to four consistent kicks before the Jegi bounced farther than expected.

Before anyone could react, player 001 extended his right leg forward, pulling Gi-hun’s left leg with him due to the tied ropes. The Jegi landed squarely on Gi-hun’s left foot.

“You did it!” Jung-bae shouted, pointing at the Jegi before turning his gaze pointedly toward the guard.

The circle-masked guard raised their arms, forming an ‘O.’ That single gesture sent your team into an uproar of cheers and hollers. Without wasting a moment, all of you began marching hurriedly toward the finish line, chanting “One, two!” in rhythm with your tied legs.

You crossed the finish line with just three seconds to spare. The moment your feet touched the line, an overwhelming wave of relief and happiness swept over you.

“We did it!” one of you shouted.

“Well done!”

The atmosphere was electric, filled with uncontainable delight. You wanted to bounce around in celebration, but the clasp tying your legs together made it impossible. Instead, you stood there cheering. Jung-bae’s tears of pure relief were contagious, and soon your own eyes welled up. The realization that you had made it, against all odds, was almost too much to process.

Player 001 patted you on the back, his voice brimming with pride as he praised everyone. “We did it. Every single one of us.”

Gi-hun nodded. “Great job, everyone. Great job.”

Your team celebrated not just the win but the fact that none of you were shot to death. The collective relief and joy were palpable, lifting the heavy cloud of fear that had hung over you for so long.

Then, a loud barrage of gunshots shattered the jubilant atmosphere. Dae-ho flinched with each shot, his body trembling. The noise was sharp and merciless, cutting through the room like a violent reminder of where you were. Your heads turned in unison toward the source of the sound.

It was the other team. They hadn’t made it in time. The guards stood over their bodies, their guns smoking as the final shots rang out.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at the lifeless forms on the ground. This was the stark reality of the game. One second too late, and it was over.

The announcer’s voice broke through the silence, listing the numbers of the eliminated players. Each number felt like a punch to the gut, a grim reminder of how close your team had been to the same fate.

A/N: I am happy to see your comments and decide to push out this chapter as soon as possible! This will take time but I also plan to publish this in Tumblr. For Wattpad, I've already published there as well but it's not as successful as here. The next chapter is finished already. I just want to complete chapter 8 first.

NEXT : Chapter 07

PREV : Chapter 05

Story Masterlist

I would love to know what you think so feel free to comment as long as you could!

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[freydis-freydat]

She did not especially appreciate the way he looked at her, although she figured it was her mistake for using more words than necessary, even in Elvhen. It had been some time since she had dug her heels in so firmly, long enough that she wasn’t sure how the last time she had been truly stubborn had turned out. The difference here was she was trying to abide by his boundary for the time being once she noted how it affected the dragon, at least for as long as it managed to be within her control. Freydis didn’t answer him knowing that anything she could think to say in the moment would only be her additional assumptions and possibilities that vexed him. She didn’t necessarily feel like touching him, but it felt like more work to back out from her drawing him toward her now. Her temper settled again over the minutes-long stretch of silence she spent sitting slightly above him first pulling the oil through his locks before methodically massaging it into his scalp. In another life, one of her twin girls had curls, and the other pin straight hair–the only discernible difference between the two. Through muscle memory alone she separated and coiled his curls around her finger so they’d dry in soft, orderly spirals. “I simply meant I wouldn’t go looking for them,” she said quietly after she had finished, “but I won’t hide or abandon my own purpose for fear they’re somewhere unexpected. Like the Feywilds.” 

Freydis dropped her hands to her lap when she spoke again and she raised a disapproving eyebrow and moved a few inches to the left to hide the bottle of warming oil she’d brought expressly to massage any pain or knots from his back. She wouldn’t be doing so now, although her soured expression wavered momentarily at his amusement, and in the next moment her agitation was nearly washed away entirely. But she still felt like she had become tiresome and that quiet was the best insurance policy against further agitating him that evening or making him cross. “I forgot them,” she lied.

Eivor gave her a look, tilting his head as she spoke. He refrained from scowling, but he wasn't very good at controlling his confused expressions. "You can do what you want, but you're asking to involve yourself in my past. My issues. And I've said no." The dragon wasn't going to budge. He understood Freydis was different, asked of him help where he could be of benefit – such as Nintra. But Aetheron was his own demon to carry, and if it found her, then he would feel responsible enough as it was. "And I can't promise my heart will change." His frown stayed for the time being, even as she beckoned him closer. He moved towards her so she could do what she wished, but Eivor was silent as she admitted enjoying what he thought. It wasn't like he had a lot of those that were remotely sane, but something about that must do it for Freydis.

If the shieldmaiden was looking for comfort, Eivor was not the best suited to do so. He had made that clear before, but this was another thing as he looked at Freydis, "I use you for massages, you use me for information?" He thought it was a good joke, a great joke even, and he grinned despite himself as he sunk lower into the water. The questions that she saved for next time just may not get another answer, dependent on his mood upon return. As it was, he was going to have to tell her the South was calling him, and this visit was going to be the last for however long until he saw her once more. He would have to test the Vanguard on how much they'd heard, if anything. "Ask."

[schrijverr]

I was so focused on the idea of the Oceans 9-1-1 and the Truck Bombing having the potential of police procedural and hospital reveals that my brain forgot about the possibility of a hospital jail reveal in Fight or Flight. Idk there's something about people finding out in a crisis that tickles my brain.

Genuinely the AUAUs are genius because I can never stop thinking about different ways the firefam find out and that'd be true even after the actual reveal I think. (BTW I've given up on actual reveal predictions I have a better track record guessing AUAUs!)

lskdghd thank you! There are just so many good ways for everyone to find out, like indeed ranging from silly to uncomfortable to wild to adrenaline fueled, which is why writing those AUAUs is so fun! At this point, the main verse is just an excuse to avoid having to write the set up for it lmao

I do have something planned to post during the Doug arc that isn't an AUAU, but I feel will add to the pain >:3 and I cannot wait for a certain playground conversation... but now I'm going to zip it xp

[teamred]

any other way

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | 1.8k

SUMMARY | in which your good friend, wade, ditches your planned movie night, but his roommate offers to watch one with you instead. however, logan ends up falling asleep on your shoulder.

WARNINGS | drinking, kissing, swearing, gets a little steamy/handsy

RATING | teen+

NOTES | it's funny... i've been a big x-men fan for a while, but i never really fell for logan until d&w. if this pops off, maybe i'll write more for him!!!

///

“Wade, hurry up and let me in! A girl can only hold freshly popped popcorn for so—oh.” 

Instead of your dear, annoying friend, it’s his gorgeous, rugged roommate who answers the apartment door instead. Your eyes sweep over him, taking a liking to how his brown plaid button-up drapes over his white tank top. His clothing choices compliment his sturdy frame and strong pecs. His facial hair is perfectly groomed and—  

And it doesn’t help that you have just the teeniest, tiniest crush on him. 

“Logan, hey!” you exclaim, a little too enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you were going to be here for movie night too.” 

“Wade’s not here, bub,” Logan says, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms and a sympathetic half-smile.

“What?! That little shit said he’d be free tonight…”  You sigh, shaking your head. “Well, it’s all good. I’ll just—” 

“Did you want to watch a movie with me instead?” Logan offers. You think you hear a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “Since you came out all this way?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’m sure you’re—”

“Darlin’,” he interrupts with a soft chuckle. Your heart stumbles at the sound. “I have never been more free on a Saturday night. You’re welcome to join me, but only if you’re comfortable with it.” 

Now your heart is melting over his kindness. You smile warmly. “I always feel comfortable around you, Logan.” 

He returns the smile and gestures for you to come in, offering to take the popcorn and if you want anything as you remove your shoes.

“I got it, but thank you. A beer would be good,” you reply, settling in on one end of the couch in the living room. You glance around curiously. “Is Blind Al not home either?” 

“Yeah,” Logan calls from the nearby kitchen, bending towards the open fridge to grab the drinks. “She’s getting, in her own words, ‘turned up’ at the casino tonight.”

You snicker as you browse through streaming services to pick a movie for tonight. Logan returns with a beer in each hand and you’re surprised when he takes the middle seat next to you. You catch a whiff of his scent and it is intoxicating–a blend of woody notes, perhaps leather and pine. 

“So what’s the movie for tonight?” Logan asks, taking a sip from his bottle. 

“Well, be honest with me here: Wade promised that we could watch this new movie that just released a few days ago, but it’s a romantic movie, so—” 

“Of course,” he cuts in with a roll of his eyes, tossing a kernel into his mouth. “That’s his favourite genre.” 

You deflate a little. “Okay, with that tone, I’m assuming I will have to change the movie choice.” 

“No! Don’t change it because of me,” Logan quickly interjects. “We can watch whatever you want. I’m genuinely content to just sit here and do something other than watching reruns I’ve seen a million times before.” 

You study him for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he reassures you, nodding and flashing another smile. You will yourself to calm your racing heart and focus on finding the movie. Once you select it, you press play and relax into the couch cushions. 

Out of nowhere, Logan places his arm around you, his hand slightly hovering above your shoulders. You stiffen at the unexpected move, unsure why he’s doing it. But then he quickly pulls back, shuffling a bit away from you.

“Shit, sorry,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed. “It’s out of habit when I watch stuff.”

“You can leave your arm there,” you blurt out. You don’t even register the words coming out of your mouth. Where was this boldness coming from? 

He quirks an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you nod fervently, rushing to grab your beer to steady your nerves. Taking a long sip, you try to force your body to relax again. 

The first few minutes of the movie starts quite slow, but your eyes are glued to the screen to ensure you don’t miss the exposition. Just as you reach for the popcorn, so does Logan, and the back of your hands brush against each other. 

“Sorry,” you both mumble, glancing at each other in awkwardness and something hanging in the air. He juts his chin out with a subtle smirk, gesturing you to go first. You grab a handful, and as he follows suit, his fingers graze against yours, causing you to shiver. 

The air in the room is electric, and you wonder if the tension is just in your head or if Logan feels it too. The movie continues, but your thoughts are consumed by the warmth of his body so close to yours and the possibility of what might happen next. 

Later into the movie, you freeze as you feel Logan leaning in closer. You turn your head, ready for what might happen–

But then, he goes completely lax, slouching into your shoulder and resting his head in a comfortable position. 

“I should’ve chosen a different movie…” you think, shaking your head. 

It’s hard to focus on the movie with this gorgeous being asleep on your shoulder (and the movie doesn’t seem to be that great anyway). Towards the end of the movie, your attention drifts completely and you indulge in how Logan sleeps. His soft snoring. The gentle squeezes he gives your shoulder as he dreams. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out. 

Suddenly, Logan stirs and lifts his head, almost snorting up air cutely. He blinks groggily. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, gorgeous. Did I sleep through the movie?” 

You hesitate, hung up on the fact that he called you gorgeous. Your cheeks prickle as you search for the right words to say.

“Yeah, you did,” you whisper with a small smile. “But it’s fine. It wasn’t that great anyway.” 

“Mm, figures,” he mumbles. “Did you wanna watch another movie or—” 

As he straightens up, you instinctively lean towards him, closing the gap between you two. Your noses practically touch.

“Or did you wanna do…” Logan’s voice is low and gravelly. You hold your breath and hold his gaze. “...something else?” 

You barely nod, and he drags you into a searing kiss. His hands cup your cheek and neck with urgency. Soon enough, his tongue dips into your mouth, sending a jolt to your core. 

Logan cradles your body and carefully positions you lower onto the couch. The weight of his body pressed up against you sends you into overdrive. His hands dive underneath your shirt, exploring your soft skin. The pressure of his body against yours leaves you breathless. Not only the pressure of his body, but also his—

“Winner winner, chicken dinner!” 

Wade’s booming voice cuts through the front door like a tornado, forcing both of you to scramble away faster than opposing magnets. However, it’s too late; Wade has witnessed everything. 

“Oh, my God, Blind Al, my plan worked! It fucking worked!” Wade squeals, jumping up and down. 

“Oh, no. Are they butt-ass naked on the couch? Times like these, I’m grateful to be blind.” 

“No, they’re thankfully fully clothed. But they were just dry humping the shit out of each other though.” 

“You ditched movie night on purpose, you asshole!” you screech. 

“Hey, you should be thanking me,” Wade retorts with a wink. “You and Wolvie always have had palpable sexual tension every time you were in a room together. Hell, even Laura agreed it’d be a good idea to set you two up.” 

Logan and you exchange a sheepish smile, acknowledging the truth in Wade's words. 

“Blind Al and I will just be basking in our casino winnings with a few drinks and then we’ll be out of your hair in a few. And then you two can carry on and fuck each other freely on the couch.” 

“But keep it down, please,” Blind Al adds with a hint of desperation.

“I probably should get going now,” you chime in, eager to avoid the awkwardness. Logan quickly follows behind, walking you to the front door. 

“I’m sorry about all this,” he says in sincerity.

You wave him off. “You never have to apologize for them. They’re like family; I’m used to them.” 

“I didn’t know where the night was heading, but—” He turns around to check over his shoulder, lowering his voice and leaning in slightly. “—I’m glad Wade set us up.” 

“Heard that!” Wade calls out from inside the apartment. 

“Damn it,” Logan mutters, making you giggle. “Anyways, would you let me take you out on a proper date tomorrow night?” 

You beam as you reply, “I’d love that.” 

“Great, I’ll call you later.” 

Logan steps outside of the apartment and closes the door behind him, pulling you in by your waist for another kiss. Innocent at first, but then he presses you up against the wall and his hands grips at your waist, extracting a few moans from you.

“Either get back inside or just go home with her rather than wall-fucking her outside of the apartment!” Wade’s muffled voice echoes through the thin walls. 

Logan retreats slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. He keeps his voice low. “And not trying to put pressure on our date tomorrow, but if—”

“If things get heated, let’s go back to my place,” you finish his thought with a soft promise. 

His eyes light up with a relieved smile. “You read my mind. Thank you.” 

You smile into one last kiss, the world fading away as you savor the sensation of Logan’s mouth on yours.

Until Wade pops his head out through the door like a whack-a-mole you’re dying to hit. “Okay, seriously. I will offer you my bedroom, if you’re really that horny, you guys.” He calls out your name. “Also, did you know he can smell how horny you are?” 

“I—what?” you stammer, blinking in confusion.

“Wade, shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps with gritted teeth. He faces you again with a gentle smile. “Have a good night, gorgeous. I’ll call you as soon as you get back home.” 

Logan’s a man of his word, almost calling immediately as you stepped foot in your apartment (with Wade providing unnecessary commentary in the background, as always). 

Later, as you get ready for bed, you can’t help but admit how grateful you were for Wade’s set-up. If it wasn’t for him, neither of you would’ve made a move; it would’ve progressed at a glacial pace. 

Lying in bed and looking up at your bedroom ceiling, you think to yourself how tonight truly was perfect, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Smiling, you drift off to sleep, dreaming of what tomorrow’s date might bring. 

ENDING NOTES | thank you so much for reading and giving some love! part two can be read here!

[areislol]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤhow they react to a child wooing you

pairings. various (hsr + genshin impact) x gn! reader

warnings. fluff, mentions of jealousy, established relationship

a/n. i find men getting jealous over a little kid so funny, never fails to crack me up.

wordcount. 2.4k

synopsis. how they react to seeing you getting wooed by a child

you’re casually minding your business when a bold little kid struts up to you with a flower they picked from who-knows-where. "you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen!" they declare, face as bright as their words.

"awww, thank you sweetie!"

"...."

the jealous one (despite their big age)

the moment the child runs up to you with wide eyes and a flower clutched in their tiny hand, you can practically feel the temperature shift around you.

whether he's subtle about it or blatantly obvious, as they watch this scene unfold, he is most definitely NOT thrilled. he can not believe his eyes right now.

he doesn’t mean to react the way he does—it’s not like a child could ever be serious competition—but something about the moment sends a spark of possessiveness through him. his entire demeanor changes. his arms cross over his chest, his jaw tightens, and his eyes narrow slightly as he watches the scene unfold.

just what in tarnation is this stupid kid doing?!!?!?

he’s not angry at the child, but the audacity of it throws him off. really? even kids are lining up now? he thinks to himself, feeling his pride take an unexpected hit. as you crouch down to accept the flower with that sweet smile of yours, he can’t help but bristle. there’s a tug at the corner of his mouth that he tries to suppress, but the faint scowl is hard to miss

he crosses his arms, as if the whole situation is beneath their concern, but his sharp eyes never leave the child. he visibly stiffen, his body going tense as they quietly seethe.

when the child boldly proclaims their affection for you, offering their flower with the confidence only a child could muster, you suddenly hear a quiet scoff under his breath, muttering something like, “ridiculous,” before he speaks up, eyes trained on the poor child.

“a bold move, kid, but maybe aim for someone your own size next time.” his tone is teasing (is it really??), but there’s an unmistakable edge to his words, his presence looming protectively by your side.

after the child scurries off, his chest puffed up with pride at his bravery, the jealous one steps in almost immediately, closing the distance between you as if to reclaim his territory.

“so,” he starts, his tone casual but laced with pointed sarcasm, “should i be worried? do i need to watch my back now?” his eyes search yours, and though he’s trying to play it cool, there’s a hint of vulnerability in his gaze—a silent plea for reassurance.

if you laugh and tease him about being jealous, his cheeks darken slightly, and he huffs, looking away. “i’m not jealous,” he insists, though the way his arms cross tighter over his chest says otherwise.

“it’s just… what kind of guy lets someone else give his girl flowers without saying something?” his voice trails off, grumbly and defensive, but you can tell he’s mostly embarrassed by his own reaction.

later, he finds ways to reassert his place by your side, subtle but deliberate. maybe it’s the way he holds your hand a little tighter or slings an arm around your shoulders when you’re out together. he doesn’t need to say it outright, but his actions make it clear: you’re mine.

there’s a faint air of possessiveness to their actions, whether it’s the way they guide you away from the scene with a hand on the small of your back or the way they glance over their shoulder to make sure the child is gone.

if you call him out on their jealousy, the reactions are just as varied. he will deny it outright, scoffing, “jealous? of a kid? don’t flatter yourself.” but their lingering glances and subtle protectiveness give them away.

he simply shrugs, his calm voices betraying none of his innerturmoil: “it’s only natural. beauty like yours is bound to attract attention, even if it’s… unconventional.”

for the rest of the day, you’ll notice small shifts in his behaviour. he'll stand closer, touch you more often—whether it’s a hand on your arm, your waist, or your shoulder—and find little ways to remind you of their presence.

his jealousy, as amusing as it is, only serves to highlight one thing: he want you to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's the only one who deserves your attention.

— CHILDE, SAMPO, WANDERER, BLADE, aventurine, MOZE, DR. RATIO, jiaoqiu, gorou, lyney, XIAO

the (soft) supporter

when the child shyly approaches you, clutching a flower with trembling hands and nervously stammering out a confession, his reaction is immediate but far from possessive. instead of jealousy or annoyance, he watches with a warm smile, his eyes softening as he takes in the innocence of the moment.

his first thought isn’t to interrupt or overshadow but to appreciate the sincerity of the child’s feelings and your gentle response to it.

he watches the scene unfold with quiet amusement, his heart swelling as he takes in the sweetness of the moment. he doesn’t see the child as a rival or a nuisance—far from it. instead, he’s struck by how earnest and brave the little boy is for approaching you with such sincerity.

he knows how kind and patient you are, and seeing you respond with such gentle affection only reminds him of why he adores you.

as you crouch down to accept the flower, thanking the child with a kind smile, he can’t help but admire you even more. there’s a tenderness in the way you interact with the child that makes his heart ache in the best way possible.

he doesn’t feel threatened by the situation—in fact, he finds it endearing. if anything, it reminds him of how natural it is for people to be drawn to you, no matter their age.

standing just a step behind you, he chuckles softly to himself, murmuring under his breath, “well, that’s brave of him.” his voice carries a note of amused admiration, but he doesn’t feel the need to insert himself into the moment.

instead, he stands by as a quiet presence, ready to step in if the child needs a little encouragement but content to let you handle it.

if the child looks nervous or unsure, he might step closer and kneel down to meet the boy’s eye level, his tone kind and reassuring. “that’s a beautiful flower you’ve got there,” he’d say with a small smile. “you chose well.” he has no intention of stealing the spotlight or intimidating the child; he just wants to make the situation feel a little easier for everyone.

his gentle demeanor leaves no room for misunderstanding—he’s here to support you, not compete for attention.

after the child scampers off, cheeks flushed with pride and excitement, he turns to you with a soft laugh. “you’ve got quite the admirer,” he says, his tone light and teasing but laced with genuine affection. there’s no jealousy in his voice, just quiet amusement and warmth.

he even suggests preserving the flower as a keepsake, offering to press it in a book or find a small vase for it later. to him, it’s a sweet moment worth cherishing.

you thank him for being so calm about the situation, he simply shrugs, his smile soft and unassuming. “he’s just a kid,” he says, his voice full of understanding. “and honestly, it’s sweet. how could anyone not fall for you?” the sincerity in his words is undeniable, and the way his gaze lingers on you for just a second too long tells you everything you need to know about how he feels.

later, he might bring it up again in passing, unable to resist a little playful teasing. “so, should i be worried?” he asks with a grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “seems like you’ve got admirers lining up these days.”

despite the joke, his actions remain steady and reassuring—he never leaves your side for long and finds subtle ways to remind you of how much you mean to him. whether it’s brushing his hand against yours, standing a little closer than usual, or simply looking at you with that soft, adoring expression, his quiet support is unwavering.

for him, the moment wasn’t about competition or insecurity. it was just another reminder of how incredible you are, and how lucky he feels to be the one by your side.

— KAZUHA, ZHONGLI, WELT, GEPARD, ARGENTI, LUKA, SUNDAY, LUOCHA, JING YUAN, tighnari, THOMA, DILUC, BAIZHU

the dramatic ones

when the child approaches you, holding out a flower with all the sincerity in the world, the dramatic one immediately acts as if the universe itself has betrayed him. his eyes widen in exaggerated shock, a hand flying to his chest as if struck by an invisible arrow.

“oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” he exclaims, his voice dripping with mock offense. he takes a step back, looking between you and the child with theatrical disbelief, as though he’s stumbled into the climax of some tragic love story.

as the child nervously stammers out his confession, the dramatic one groans, running a hand through his hair as if trying to collect himself. “really? really? even kids now?” he mutters under his breath, though loud enough for you to hear. his tone is less genuine frustration and more exaggerated exasperation, the kind that begs for your attention.

when you smile at the child and crouch down to accept the flower, his reaction shifts into full-blown melodrama. “a flower? oh no, not a flower!” he gasps, pretending to stagger backward as if this tiny gesture has dealt him a mortal wound.

“this is how it starts! next thing i know, he’ll be writing you love letters and stealing your heart!” he places a hand on his forehead, tilting his head back with a long-suffering sigh, as though the betrayal is simply too much to bear.

if the child dares to glance his way, he leans in slightly, crossing his arms with a mock-serious expression. “you’re bold, kid. i’ll give you that,” he says, narrowing his eyes playfully. “but do you have what it takes to keep them happy? hmm? flowers are just the beginning, you know.” despite his words, there’s no real malice—he’s just playing up the moment, reveling in the absurdity of the situation.

when the child finally scampers off, proud of his bravery, the dramatic one steps closer to you, shaking his head with a heavy sigh. “unbelievable. i leave you alone for one second, and this is what happens?” he grumbles, though the grin tugging at his lips betrays his amusement. “what’s next? a line of admirers waiting around the corner?”

if you laugh at his antics, it only fuels his performance. “don’t laugh! this is serious!” he says, though his voice is far from convincing. he leans in closer, his tone dropping to a mock whisper. “tell me the truth—did he win you over? do i have competition now? should i be worried?” his eyes glimmer with playful mischief, his entire demeanor practically begging you to reassure him.

later, he won’t let you forget it. “do you remember earlier? that kid? yeah, i’m still recovering,” he teases, his voice full of faux indignation. “i mean, who does that? confessing right in front of me? bold move, i’ll give him that.” he’ll recount the story to anyone willing to listen, embellishing every detail to make it sound even more dramatic.

“i had to stand there and watch my partner get swept off their feet by a four-foot-tall rival. you have no idea the pain i endured.”

despite all the dramatics, his actions make it clear that it’s all in good fun. he doesn’t actually feel threatened—in fact, he enjoys watching you smile and laugh at his antics. the entire situation only gives him another excuse to shower you with playful affection and remind you in his own ridiculous way just how much you mean to him.

— KAVEH, SAMPO, venti, luka, BOOTHILL, JING YUAN, ITTO, CYNO, kaeya, lyney, BAIZHU, MR. RECA, wriothesley

the quiet ones

when the child approaches you, holding out a flower with trembling hands and a nervous confession, he is instantly at a loss. his breath catches, and he freezes in place, wide-eyed as he tries to process what’s happening. for a moment, he just stands there, completely still, as though moving might draw attention to himself. his hands awkwardly hover near his sides, unsure whether to intervene or stay back.

his gaze darts between you and the child, his face rapidly turning pink as he realizes how sweetly you’re smiling at the little boy. the warmth and gentleness in your voice as you thank the child make his heart ache in the best way possible. he swallows hard, suddenly hyperaware of how soft and kind you are, and it only makes his cheeks burn hotter.

as you crouch down to accept the flower, he glances away, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve or brushing through his hair in a nervous attempt to compose himself. it’s not that he’s jealous—no, he wouldn’t even know how to be jealous in this situation—it’s just that seeing someone else, even a child, shower you with admiration leaves him tongue-tied and painfully aware of his own feelings.

he mumbles something under his breath, barely audible, like, “that’s… bold of him.” but the moment the words leave his mouth, he cringes internally, wondering why he couldn’t come up with something better. instead of saying more, he stays rooted in place, trying to appear calm even as the tips of his ears betray him with their deep blush.

when the child looks at him, perhaps seeking approval, he manages a small, awkward smile and a quiet, “good choice.” his voice is soft, almost shy, and there’s a hesitant nod to go along with it. he wants to be encouraging after all, this is a child.

still, he’s not upset—he’s impressed by the child’s courage and, more than anything, endeared by how naturally you handle the situation.

after the child runs off, proud of his brave confession, the flustered quiet one exhales a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as he finally allows himself to relax. he hesitates before speaking, his voice low and slightly uneven. “that was… something,” he murmurs, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he dares to meet your eyes.

if you tease him, his blush deepens, and he looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. “i’m not flustered,” he insists, though his tone is far from convincing. he might even add, “it’s just… surprising, that’s all.” his attempt to downplay his reaction only makes him seem more endearing, his bashful demeanor a clear giveaway of how much the moment affected him.

for the rest of the day, he’s quieter than usual, replaying the scene in his mind and feeling his heart skip all over again. when he finally gathers the courage to bring it up, it’s in the form of a shy, almost hesitant comment.

“he was pretty brave, you know,” he says softly, his gaze flickering to you before quickly looking away. “but, uh… i hope you know that… well, i admire you too. a lot.”

his words are sincere, even if his voice is barely above a whisper. while he may not be as bold as the child who approached you, his quiet admiration and the way he lingers close to you for the rest of the day speak volumes.

— CAELUS, IMBIBITOR LUNAE/DAN HENG, gallagher, GEPARD, XIAO, DILUC, DAINSLEIF, ALBEDO, ALHAITHAM, NEUVILLETTE

note: got hit w baby fever sadly

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: not proof read so if you found any spelling/grammar mistakes PLEASE tell me

[livelaughlovesubs]

Dom!reader x sub!scarletella

Warning: fictional stuff - stimulation through a separate object (?), inspired by some fanarts (artists are amazing), teasing, degrading pet names

I’m seeing so many fanarts that have this implanted and I HAVE to do something about my horniness that’s holding me back from working so, as far as I understand, for mr. Scarlettela his real body is his umbrella or it’s at least connected to him - anyway, can’t believe I’m writing about homicipher bruh, I feel ashamed T^T

!!Spoiler warning!! This is not canon but has some elements from it

He is a good boy, he really is! Well, maybe not at all times, but he’s trying his best for you. And haven’t you seen just how much he loves and trusts you? He’s basically devoted to you! Like a faithful follower~ Handing the red umbrella he always carries over to you so easily, when he normally would never let anyone touch it, let alone give or lend it. It’s just proof of how much he likes you!

So why were you so mean and destroyed it? You like him, didn’t you know that his umbrella is connected to him? Why were you hurting him. He didn’t understand, he didn’t even know what to do. Because in the end, he still liked you.

Now this over 8 feet tall creature was kneeling in front of you, head lowered in confusion as he stared at the concrete floor. You were still holding the now broken umbrella, scoffing as you stared down at his rather pathetic form. It wasn’t entirely broken, just some bend metal and rough ends, or a little tear here and there. Yet for some reason his clothes were torn and disheveled, hands shaking slightly as he kept mumbling the words ‘I don’t understand’ or ‘I like you’ over and over again. At first he seemed intimidating, but now you didn’t have an ounce of fear left.

There must have been a connection between him and this umbrella. Instead of speculating, best just ask him.

Slowly you pointed the long object in your hand at him, the tip pushed below his chin as you made him look up at you. His round, almost completely dark eyes stared right at you, one side was covered by his crimson hair. There were tears steaming down his cheeks, he was crying, how unexpected. The two of you locked eyes for a few seconds, and you wondered what you should do about this crazed man.

While their language was hard to grasp at first, you were getting the hang of it by now. “This umbrella, is you?” The meaning of the question itself was unbelievable, but since this ghost realm exists, maybe your hypothesis wasn’t that out of place. “Yes. Me body.” Look at that, you were right. That explains why he suddenly got so sad. You groaned internally and pulled your arm back, using the umbrella as a cane instead.

As you were still thinking over your next step, his hands reached out to you hesitantly, and softly tugged at the ends of your coat. After stretching the fabric out a little, he leaned his forehead against it, mumbling almost inaudibly, “please don’t go, I like you.” You raised an eyebrow, the corners of your mouth subconsciously moving upwards as you snickered, “What?” His grip got a little tighter and his hand trembled from tensing his muscles so much, then he said a little louder, “I like you, don’t you like me?”

God you wanted to laugh, this was so sad it was laughable. How in the world did he come to that conclusion? In that moment, you had a lot to say t0 him, but due to the language barrier you couldn’t convey it really well. So you just talked to yourself, needing some time to vent.

“Oh you poor thing.” You chuckled in your own language, the one he didn’t understand. “What am I supposed to do with a perv like you?” He looked up at you again, wanting to ask what you said if not for your shoes that were pressing against his chest. “..what?” The person- or monster asked, but he didn’t resist your touch and leaned back, following your guidance. From earlier up to this point, he has been kneeling, just this time he was also using his arms behind his back to stabilise himself.

Without changing the almost arrogant look in your eyes, you used the gift he gave you to trace some imaginary lines on his body. The tip glided from his jawline to the tip of his chin, and you asked, “your name?” The heavy tension was something he also caught on, and he hesitated, not knowing to what this would lead. He shook his head, forcing out a “don’t know…”

You hummed slowly, showing you understood the message. Nonetheless, you continued to move the tip down his neckline all the way to his toned collarbones, “I’ll give you a name.” His eyes widened even more, it made him look objectively creepier, but you thought he looked like a dumb puppy. All big eyed, bearing a deep need and raw desire in his pupils. “How about,” then, just like drawing with a stick in the mud, you traced the word, “Scarlet,” over his chest, simultaneously voicing out the word.

He shuddered as the hard surface scribbles around his torso, squeezing his lips together while he tried to stay still for you. You weren’t being exactly gentle there. When you stopped to glance at him, he quickly nodded. That wasn’t the end to your little play yet, and you slid the pointy end across his abs and stomach, down to his thighs, making him spread them a little wider, “I gave you a name, so you’ll be my servant from now on. Understood?” This has been said in your language, but you hoped he’ll get the overall meaning.

Again he nodded. In his head, being your servant meant you liked him, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t keep him around! So how could he ever say no.

“Use your mouth.” You ordered, digging the tip into his flesh a little, and he answered shortly after, “I understand, me happy.” Sweat was forming on his forehead, and his previous crying ceased. Instead a faint taint of pink covered his cheeks, and he stared at you almost manically. “Good.” You said, which was basically a praise— right? —and he smiled, a shaky, breathless one.

A little behind you was a chair, and you dragged it closer to the still kneeling man below you. Even you were starting to get tired of standing, so you sat down in a comfortable position. “What now.” You said to yourself, not really paying him any attention anymore. It would be nice if you had a collar, would red or black look better on him? But your resources were limited, and you didn’t exactly have a lot of things with you as well. That’s when you absentmindedly thought over what you did own.

Besides that crowbar you’ve found down here, you really didn’t have a lot. Well, you also had a broken umbrella now— hold up, that’s right, you own him now. A rather sadistic thought came to mind, and you pondered to what limit you could control him with this red, unusual umbrella. Would he feel your presence when you just hold it? You got lost in your thoughts again, fumbling with the torn textile and the handle. This didn’t stop until a strange sound caught your attention.

Your eyes left the red batch of fabric in your hands, and instead wandered to the other red thing in the room. He crawled into a ball, arms folded in front of his body while his head pressed against the ground. It looked like he was in pain again, though you weren’t sure if these noises were whimpers of pain or pleasure. “You okay?” You eventually asked, and he whispered in a higher pitch, “me okay..!”

Once again your gaze returned to the umbrella. He must be in this state due to something you did, and so you tightened your grip around the handle while mindlessly drawing a line with your index finger on the panel. As expected, his shoulder jerked upwards even more, and he rolled more together, as if he wanted to take up as little space as possible. His entire body was twitching, also for some reason his coat was only hanging off his arms now.

“You are into it.” You commented, not even too shocked to learn this rather unnecessary fact. At least you can have your fill of fun with this. “What about this?” Suddenly you started moving your hand up and down the handle, rubbing the umbrella panel with the other hand. It was a truly humbling experience to do something implied sexual to a literal object, but your eyes were glued to the ghost before you, so you didn’t even notice how weird it must have looked.

And sure enough, there was a change in his behaviour, he got louder. Your smile widened involuntarily, and your pace also got quicker and rougher. Oh fucking hell, if he was really feeling that kind of sensations, you won’t be able to stop yourself. It was like you were hypnotised, concentrated on nothing but his expressions. On the different ways his face twisted into one of ecstasy.

A big, dark, lunatic grin, paired with fanatic eyes that were ripped wide open. Some hints of a scarlet blush covering his face while sweat rolled down his face. Those perverse sounds he made were proof of the probably internal pleasure he felt, and he quivered all over, still bend down on the floor. Now that you’ve got a better grasp of what was happening, you realized he was crawled together to hide something.

“Ngh, hgGnn- ah..! Please…♥︎～” he whined at your feet, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth and landing on the floor. You’ve been fumbling with the handle for some time, so you’ve gotten bored again and was curious about if the textile was a part of his being as well. Without a second thought, you simply stuck two fingers between the folds, and you were met with a heavily muffled moan.

“Arghhh-…MmmHFfffF～ ♡♡♥︎” Once he felt your touch, he bit into his own palm to quiet himself down. At some point he started crying again, glistening tears decorating his already ruined face. You didn’t think his reaction would be this good, this lewd, whatever you did, he must have liked it a lot. Which is why, despite the absurdity of your actions, you moved your fingers in and out of the holes or just randomly caressed whatever part you felt like touching.

Out of nowhere you felt something tugging at your coat again, it gave off a sense of Deja vu. Of course it was him, who was only pinching the corner of it with a shaky hand. His grip had lost any strength compared to before, and you couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction. “What?” You asked him, though you didn’t stop your administrations. He cried out when he opened his mouth to speak, breaking down in front of you, for your entertainment only.

“Haaaa-HnnGh… wait, p-please wait-!♡” Was he telling you it was too much? It’s making you want to overstimulated him even more. He was being so pathetic it was cute. Without wasting a single second, you went as fast as you could, blatantly ignoring his pleads. Based on your own observations, he must have been close, if he was similar to a real person. “Feels good?” You asked, to make sure he was alright. He didn’t reply again and only nodded all weakly, but you’ll let it slide this time.

He felt so hot and strange, it was a nice but unfamiliar feeling. Not only that, he felt something burning building up inside him and it was threatening to spill. That’s why he wanted you to slow down. Poor thing was confused, absolutely baffled what this warm feeling was. Is it love? It must be love. He loved you and you loved him after all. All in all it wasn’t a bad feeling, and since you seemed happy, he is too!

Another sudden wave of pleasure coursed through him, his eyes were clouded with lust and bliss, and the dirty whimpers that slipped past his lips got more erotic by the second. How desperate and lovesick he sounded, begging, pleading, squirming and trashing around on the spot. Thighs pressed together while his toes curled, back arched as a last moan ripped from his throat, “nnNgGHhh ♡♥︎ ♡～” Just as you predicted, that must have been his climax. Now’s the question, did he came in his pants? Did such things still have a reproductive system?

My my, it seems that is the case, whatever it was it seeped through the dark fabric of his trousers, causing an even darker spot to appear.

You only caught glimpses of it since he was hiding his own body so much, but you were content nevertheless. Since he was so obedient the entire time, you decided to be nice to him with the limited vocabulary you had. “Cute.” His kneeling figure was still shuddering and twitching, ragged gasps and pants were also coming from him. But for him, the only thing he could hear was your voice ringing and echoing in his mind, as well as the awfully loud beats of his own heart.

After all this time, you finally praised him! Well you did before but this time he was sure of it! And you found him cute! He was so happy he couldn’t stop grinning. That’s when you said, “do you want anything?” It was to kind of make up for making a fool out of him, or maybe for breaking his umbrella. He didn’t even think before quickly turning his head up, slurring out, “g-give me you name?” You blinked, that wouldn’t have been what you wished for but oh well. Right before you simply told him the answer you stopped yourself, and responded teasingly, “call me master.”

You weren’t sure if he knew the meaning behind it, but it didn’t matter. He had a blank look for a few seconds, mumbling to himself, most likely repeating that word a thousand times. While he did that, he let his head hang low again, facing the floor. His hair hid his face really well, and you couldn’t read his expression. “You alright?” You asked once the silence started to make you feel uneasy.

He placed both his hand on the floor and leaned down, until his face was hovering centimetres above your shoe, and he whispered eagerly, excessively so, “I’m happy, master. I love you.” Before kissing the tip of your shoe. You stared down in disbelief, a shiver running down your spine. He was more of a freak than you thought.

The moment he was done, you grabbed a fistful of his hair, proceeding to yank on it, making him face you on eye-level while he gasped in surprise. Your other hand clutched the umbrella more tightly, causing him to groan slightly. “Stupid dog.” You chuckled with a sinister smile spread across your face, watching as hearts appeared in the middle of his pupils.

[sonarspace]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆STUDY BREAK (FT. GOJO)

꒰ synopsis. being in the same class as gojo satoru was bad enough; having him as the professor’s insufferably smug assistant made it worse. content. college au. nsfw. (teasing. slight praise kınk. fıngering. oräl. p in v. multiple ōrgasms.) wc. 5.3k. an. to clear up any confusion 😭.. satoru’s a senior student + the professor’s assistant in the course you’re both taking. (fic is kinda all over the place so idk if this works but let’s pretend like it does).

there’s something about gojo satoru that drives you insane. not in the fun, heart-fluttering way that comes with a secret crush or the thrill of banter. no—this is the kind of insane where you want to hurl something, preferably at his stupidly smug face.

“class,” he drawls, leaning lazily against the desk at the front of the room, his shirt slightly rumpled like he doesn’t give a damn—and he doesn’t. “these papers? a mixed bag. some of you really impressed me. others… well.” his lips curve into a smirk. “let’s just say the recycling bin was hungry.”

you groan inwardly, already sensing where this is going. he’s done this before, holding your work hostage like it’s part of his routine entertainment.

“and here,” he continues, brandishing a paper like a prop. your paper. “is a prime example of someone… almost getting there. strong ideas, decent execution, but the conclusion? oof. fell harder than my GPA sophomore year.”

a few students laugh. your jaw tightens, the heat in your chest bubbling up into something sharp and biting. he doesn’t have to name you; everyone knows exactly whose paper he’s waving around.

“anyway,” he finishes with a shrug, tossing the paper onto the desk like it’s disposable. “there’s potential. keep at it.”

you don’t even wait for class to end before your resolve solidifies: you’re going to kill him. maybe not literally, but metaphorically? absolutely.

you don’t plan on storming to his dorm room. it just… happens. one moment, you’re replaying his smug grin and the way his eyes gleamed when he mocked your paper, and the next, you’re standing outside his door, your fist raised to knock.

he answers quickly, and the sight of him makes you falter. his hair is damp, sticking out in soft tufts like he just got out of the shower, and his plain white t-shirt clings to him in a way that’s almost—no. you shake the thought away.

“well, this is unexpected,” he says, leaning against the doorframe with a grin that’s all teeth. “if you wanted private tutoring, you could’ve just asked.”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you snap, brushing past him into the room without waiting for an invitation.

he whistles low under his breath. “feisty tonight. to what do I owe the pleasure?”

you spin to face him, your hands clenched at your sides. “what is your problem with me?”

he blinks, his smirk faltering for a fraction of a second before returning full force. “problem? sweetheart, i don’t have a problem with you.”

“you humiliate me in class,” you say, your voice rising. “you make these comments, you single me out—what, are you that bored with your life?”

“humiliate?” he echoes, feigning a wounded look. “i think you mean ‘motivate.’ you’re one of the smartest people in that class. if i don’t push you, who will?”

“that’s bullshit,” you fire back, stepping closer. “you don’t ‘push’ anyone else.”

“because no one else is as fun,” he replies easily, his grin tilting into something sharper. “the way you react, the fire in your eyes—it’s addictive.”

your breath catches, the heat in your chest spreading to your cheeks. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, here you are,” he says, his voice dropping just enough to make the air between you feel heavier. “in my room. alone.”

“because you drive me crazy,” you snap, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

his eyebrows lift slightly, as if he’s genuinely intrigued by your outburst. “good crazy or bad crazy?”

he takes a step closer, too close. the kind of close that makes your pulse stutter and your instincts scream at you to step back—but you don’t. instead, you stand your ground, your jaw clenched as he waits for your answer, his gaze steady and almost daring.

“what does it matter?” you mutter, your voice quieter now, the heat of your earlier anger ebbing into something more uncertain.

“it matters,” he says, his voice low as his eyes flicker to your lips. “because I need to know if I can do this.”

before you can ask what he means, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. but you don’t. his hand finds your waist, tugging you closer as the kiss deepens, his mouth hot and insistent against yours.

it’s like a dam breaking. weeks—months—of tension and unspoken words all come crashing down in a rush of heat and urgency. his other hand slides into your hair, tilting your head to kiss you deeper, and the sound you make in response is embarrassing and needy, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

you should stop this. you should push him away, tell him he’s crossed a line. but the way his thumb brushes against your waist, the way he tilts his head just right, the way he kisses like he’s been waiting for this moment as long as you have—it’s addictive. you can’t stop. you don’t want to.

but then reality slams into you like a cold gust of wind. what are you doing? your chest tightens as the weight of it crashes down all at once, the heat between you dissolving into something sharper, more terrifying.

you pull back abruptly, your breathing uneven. “i can’t.”

he blinks, his expression softening from one of heat to confusion. “what?”

“this—this is a mistake,” you stammer, backing away. your hands feel clumsy as they fumble behind you for the door. “i shouldn’t have come here.”

“wait.” his hand reaches out, almost instinctively, but you’re already opening the door, your chest tight and your mind racing as you step out into the hall. you don’t look back, even as the warmth of his touch lingers on your skin.

────

you avoid him after that. in class, you sit as far from him as possible, claiming a seat in the back corner, close to the door. the usual tension he brought to the room—his teasing remarks, his piercing gaze when he caught you rolling your eyes—feels conspicuously absent. he doesn’t call on you, doesn’t glance your way, doesn’t even acknowledge you.

it’s been weeks since that night in his dorm, and as the semester nears its end, the distance feels heavier with every passing class. his silence, once the thing you desperately wanted, now presses on your chest like a weight. you wonder if he regrets it, if he’s just as caught in the what-ifs as you are—or if he’s already forgotten.

the final project looms, deadlines creeping closer, but the distraction isn’t enough to stop the quiet ache that’s settled in your chest. you remind yourself it’s for the best. boundaries were crossed, a line you know you shouldn’t have stepped over. it doesn’t matter how he made you feel, how his kisses left you breathless and yearning. none of it matters.

and yet, every time you leave class, you rush, head down, praying he won’t stop you. and every time he doesn’t, the ache grows.

when class ends today, the air feels heavier than usual. your peers chatter around you, their voices blending into background noise as you pack your things quickly, eyes fixed on the door. if you can just slip out unnoticed, avoid another day of walking the tightrope you’ve been balancing on since that night—

but then a hand wraps gently around your wrist, warm and familiar.

“you’re avoiding me,” he says, his voice low and steady. there’s no edge to it, no teasing grin or smug undertone. just quiet certainty, like he’s stating a fact.

you freeze, your heart thudding in your chest. it’s been so long since he’s said anything to you that the sound of his voice directed at you feels foreign.

“i’m late,” you mumble, tugging your wrist weakly in an attempt to free yourself. “let me go.”

“you don’t have any classes after this,” he says, his grip loosening but not letting go. his eyes meet yours, calm but resolute. “i checked your schedule.”

your jaw tightens, irritation flashing through you. “you shouldn’t have access to my schedule.”

“probably not,” he admits with a shrug, a hint of the old satoru creeping into his voice, “but i’m me.”

you open your mouth to snap at him, to tell him to back off, but he cuts you off first. “come have coffee with me.”

you blink, caught off guard by the casual offer. “what?”

“coffee,” he repeats, his tone light, as if this is perfectly normal. “you like coffee, don’t you?”

“that’s not the point,” you snap, yanking your wrist free from his grasp. “what is this, some weird apology?”

“it’s not weird,” he says, his smirk faltering slightly now, his expression open and strangely earnest. “it’s just coffee. with me.”

you stare at him, struggling to find the right words. “gojo,” you begin, your voice heavy, “you and i are not friends.”

his face falls, the shift so quick and unexpected that it makes your stomach twist. you see the way his shoulders tense, the way his gaze drops for just a moment, but you force yourself to look away. without giving him a chance to reply, you turn and push past him, your steps quick and unsteady as you leave the classroom.

the ache in your chest grows with every step, and even as you round the corner, out of sight, the image of his expression lingers. there’s no relief this time. only guilt.

────

you don’t know why you’re here. no, that’s a lie—you know exactly why you’re here. the memory of his expression, the slight drop of his shoulders at your retort, has been looping in your mind, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

your feet carry you down the familiar path to his dorm, the ache in your chest twisting tighter with every step. before you can talk yourself out of it, your fist is already knocking on the door.

it opens almost immediately, and the sight of him steals the breath from your lungs. his white hair is a mess, sticking up in chaotic directions, and his glasses are perched crookedly on his nose. there’s a faint crease on his cheek, like he’d been leaning against a book, and his shirt hangs loosely off one shoulder, rumpled from sleep or hours spent working. he looks… soft. disarming. almost painfully cute.

“coffee,” you say, holding up the cups like a white flag. “can i come in?”

his lips twitch, a hint of a smile breaking through the haze of surprise as he steps aside. “bribery, huh? didn’t think you had it in you.”

his dorm is as cluttered as you remember—papers and notebooks sprawled across his desk, a blinking laptop shoved precariously to one side. you set the coffee down on the edge of the desk, your gaze catching on the scrawled notes and dense blocks of text.

“grading?” you ask.

“research,” he replies, dropping onto the edge of his bed with a tired sigh. his hand rakes through his already-messy hair, making it stick up even more. “finals prep. you know, glamorous TA things.”

you hand him a cup, your fingers brushing against his as he takes it. the simple contact sends a jolt up your arm that you stubbornly ignore. “thought you could use it.”

he hums as he takes a sip, his lashes fluttering briefly before he lets out a quiet sound of approval. the noise is so low, so soft, it makes your stomach twist. you glance away quickly, your grip tightening on your own cup.

“about the other day,” you start, the words quiet and tentative.

he glances up, the coffee still in his hands. his expression is unreadable, but his fingers still against the cup, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. “you don’t have to explain,” he says, setting his cup down on the desk. “if you don’t want this—if i got it wrong—just say so.”

“it’s not that,” you blurt, the words tumbling out too fast, too raw. warmth floods your cheeks, creeping down to your chest. “i just… i don’t know what this is.”

he doesn’t respond immediately, doesn’t fall into his usual teasing deflection. instead, he stands, crossing the small space between you with deliberate steps. his gaze holds yours, steady and unguarded, and it makes your stomach flip in a way you can’t control.

“let me show you,” he says softly, his voice low, uncharacteristically serious.

he’s so close now, his hand brushing against yours, his touch light, almost hesitant. and then his lips are on yours, and everything else fades away.

this kiss is nothing like the first. there’s no uncertainty, no restraint. his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him as his mouth moves against yours, hot and insistent. your grip on the coffee slips, the cup hitting the floor with a dull thud as your hands find his shoulders, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

when his hands slide under your shirt, the roughness of his palms against your bare skin makes you shudder. he guides you backward, his body pressing into yours until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. you sink down, the weight of him grounding you as he follows, his lips trailing fire along your jaw and down your neck.

his hands are everywhere—tracing the curve of your waist, brushing the underside of your ribs, exploring like he’s memorizing every inch of you. when he pulls back to look at you, his lips are curved in a wicked, breath-stealing grin.

“you’re infuriating,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as his eyes rake over you, drinking in every detail.

“you’re worse,” you manage, though your voice is barely more than a whisper.

his grin widens, and his laugh is warm against your skin as he dips his head, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. “you’re already so worked up. it’s cute.”

“shut up,” you snap, though the way your hips arch into his touch betrays you.

“make me,” he challenges, his lips brushing against yours before descending lower, kissing down your collarbone and tugging your shirt higher with every inch. his hands roam greedily, tugging the fabric over your head and tossing it somewhere behind him without a second thought.

his mouth is back on you immediately, nipping and kissing along the swell of your breasts as his hands work the clasp of your bra. when it comes free, his lips part in a satisfied hum, his hands kneading your soft skin like he’s savoring every second of this.

“so fucking perfect,” he mutters, his voice husky as he leans back slightly to take in the sight of you. his gaze is heavy, filled with something dark and hungry that makes your stomach twist in the best way.

“stop staring,” you grumble, though the heat in your cheeks betrays the sharpness of your words.

“can’t help it,” he says, his grin tilting into something softer, more genuine. “you’re gorgeous.”

before you can respond, his mouth is back on you, his tongue flicking over your nipple as his other hand trails down your stomach, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of your pants. your breath hitches as he pauses, his gaze flicking up to meet yours.

“can i?” he asks, his voice quieter now, his expression serious.

you nod, and he wastes no time. his fingers hook under the fabric, tugging your pants and underwear down in one swift motion. the cool air against your bare skin makes you shiver, but the warmth of his hands is there immediately, coaxing you to relax under his touch.

“look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick as his hands part your thighs, his gaze drinking in every inch of you. “so fucking pretty.”

your cheeks flush, and you try to turn your head away, but his hand cups your chin, gently coaxing you to meet his eyes. “don’t hide from me,” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “not tonight.”

his other hand slides between your thighs, his touch featherlight at first, teasing. when his thumb brushes over your clit, a jolt of heat shoots through you, and your hips buck involuntarily.

“sensitive,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a wicked grin. “i barely touched you, and you’re already squirming.”

“shut up,” you snap, your voice shaky as your fingers clutch at the sheets beneath you. but the way your body reacts—arching into his touch, chasing the pressure—makes it clear that his teasing isn’t far from the truth.

“you don’t really want me to, do you?” his voice is low, almost a growl, and the sound of it sends a shiver down your spine. “i think you like when i talk to you like this. when i tell you how good you’re doing, how fucking beautiful you look right now.”

your chest heaves as his fingers dip lower, sliding through your slick folds with infuriating slowness. every movement feels deliberate, calculated, like he’s savoring every second. when his fingers finally slip inside you, the stretch makes your head fall back, a gasp tumbling from your lips.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, his thumb circling your clit as his fingers begin to move, slow and deliberate at first. “you feel so fucking good, baby. so perfect.”

your hands fly to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he curls his fingers, hitting a spot that makes your vision blur. “oh my god—gojo—”

he tuts sharply, his fingers pausing inside you, his thumb stalling its maddening rhythm. your head snaps up, breathless and confused, to find him staring down at you with a dark look, his lips curving into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“no,” he says firmly, his voice low and commanding as he tilts his head. “say satoru.”

“w-what?” you stammer, your heart racing as his fingers remain perfectly still, the tension building with every passing second.

“not ‘gojo,’” he says again, his free hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward his. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his grin sharpening. “say satoru.”

you hesitate, your breath hitching as your body trembles beneath him. he presses his fingers deeper, curling them just enough to make your toes curl, and your resolve shatters.

“satoru,” you gasp, your voice breaking on the syllables.

his smirk widens, something dark and triumphant flickering in his eyes. “good girl,” he murmurs, his thumb resuming its slow, torturous circles on your clit as his fingers pick up their rhythm again, harder this time, deeper.

your head falls back against the mattress, your body arching into his touch as the pleasure builds again, higher and hotter than before. his name tumbles from your lips like a mantra, breathless and needy as he drives you closer to the edge.

“that’s it,” he coaxes, his voice dripping with praise as his free hand slides down your body, his touch possessive. “just like that, baby. let go for me.”

the coil in your stomach tightens to the breaking point, and when he curls his fingers just right, pressing against the perfect spot, it snaps. your orgasm crashes over you, white-hot and overwhelming, and his name spills from your lips in a broken moan.

“satoru—fuck—”

“that’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough with approval as he works you through the waves of pleasure, his movements slowing but never stopping until your body goes slack beneath him, trembling and spent.

he pulls his hand away slowly, his gaze fixed on you as he brings his fingers to his lips, licking them clean with a deliberate, satisfied hum. “even better than i imagined,” he says, his voice dripping with arrogance, his eyes gleaming as they roam over your flushed, trembling body.

you blink, your breath still uneven as his words settle over you. “wait—” you say, your voice catching slightly. “you’ve thought about this?”

his grin widens, slow and deliberate, and he leans down, bracing himself on his forearms so his face is just inches from yours. “oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, “you really think i haven’t?”

your cheeks flush even hotter, your pulse racing as his words sink in. “you’re—” you stammer, at a rare loss for words. “you’re ridiculous.”

“ridiculous?” he repeats, feigning offense, though the wicked glint in his eyes never falters. “i’d say i’m a man of focus. you’ve been in my head for weeks, driving me insane with that sharp mouth and the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice.”

“i don’t—” you begin, but his lips curve into a knowing smirk, cutting you off.

“you do,” he insists, his tone softening just slightly. “and every time you glared at me, every time you rolled your eyes or bit back some little retort, all i could think about was how much i wanted to shut you up. like this.”

his lips capture yours again, and this kiss is slower, heavier, laced with an intensity that makes your toes curl. his hands roam, sliding over your bare skin with a reverence that feels almost out of place against his words.

when he finally pulls back, his gaze is still on you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “and now that i’ve got you,” he says, his voice dipping into something darker, “i don’t think i’ll ever get enough.”

the weight of his confession leaves you breathless, and before you can respond, his lips are trailing down your body again, his hands parting your thighs as he settles between them.

“what are you—” you start, but his eyes flick up to meet yours, and the look in them steals the rest of your words.

“relax,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a soft, almost mischievous smile. “i’m not done tasting you yet.”

his hands slide to grip your thighs, pulling you apart with ease as his lips descend, brushing over your inner thighs, teasingly slow. his tongue flicks out, hot and wet against your skin, and when his mouth finally finds you again, you feel your body arch instinctively, your breath leaving in a sharp, unrestrained gasp.

he’s relentless. his tongue drags up your folds in a languid stroke before circling your clit with maddening precision. his mouth is hot, the slick, wet sounds mingling with your soft moans, and his breath—warm and uneven—fans against your skin with every movement.

his hair brushes against your thighs, soft and messy, and your fingers thread through it again, tugging sharply enough to make him groan against you. the vibration of it sends a jolt of pleasure straight through your core, and your hips buck against his mouth.

“satoru,” you gasp, but it’s barely coherent, your voice breaking as he latches onto your clit, sucking just enough to make your toes curl. “oh my—”

the cold press of something against your inner thigh pulls you out of the haze, just barely. it’s sharp, unfamiliar, and you glance down—his glasses. they’re still perched on his nose, slightly crooked, the metal frame fogging faintly from the heat of his breath. he’s so lost in the moment, so focused on the way his tongue works against you, that he hasn’t even noticed.

your hand drifts down, brushing against the cool frame, and you slip them off without a word. the absurdity of it—the way he’s been eating you out with his glasses still on—makes you want to laugh. the corners of your mouth twitch, and a soft sound bubbles up in your throat, but then his tongue presses flat against your folds, dragging up in one slow, deliberate motion, and the laugh dissolves into a sharp moan.

your head falls back against the pillow, your hand tangling back in his hair as you toss the glasses onto the bed with the other. the noise they make as they hit the mattress is faint, drowned out by the obscene wet sounds of his mouth, the low hums of satisfaction he lets out as he devours you.

“fuck,” you whimper, your thighs trembling as his tongue flicks against your clit again, faster now, more insistent. your body arches instinctively, chasing the pressure, and his hands tighten on your thighs, pulling you even closer to his mouth.

he growls against you, the sound low and rough, vibrating through you in a way that makes your toes curl. his tongue dips lower, teasing your entrance before sliding back up, and the sharp scrape of his teeth against your swollen clit has you seeing stars.

“so fucking sweet,” he mutters, his voice muffled against your slick skin. “can’t get enough of you, baby.”

you can’t respond, can’t think. the only thing you can focus on is the way his tongue works against you, precise and relentless, building the heat in your stomach until it’s unbearable. your fingers twist in his hair, pulling harder, and the groan he lets out in response sends you spiraling.

“satoru—” his name falls from your lips like a prayer, breathless and broken. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, his mouth dragging you closer and closer to the edge until you can’t hold on any longer.

your orgasm hits you hard, ripping through you in waves that leave your entire body trembling. your hips jerk against his hold, your moans loud and unrestrained as you ride it out. his tongue slows, working you through every aftershock until you’re left panting, boneless against the bed.

when he finally pulls back, his chest is heaving, his lips and chin glistening with your slick. his hair is a mess, strands sticking up where your fingers had tugged, and his eyes—those impossibly bright blues—flick up to meet yours, gleaming with satisfaction.

“twice,” he says, his voice low and teasing as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

he sits back on his knees, his hands smoothing over your trembling thighs as he takes in the sight of you—flushed, panting, your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. his grin is lazy, self-satisfied, like he knows exactly what he’s done to you.

“you’re staring,” you mutter weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“hard not to,” he replies, his tone low and full of amusement. his fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, his touch soft, teasing. “you look so fucking good when you come.”

your cheeks burn, and you want to glare at him, to tell him to shut up, but the words catch in your throat as he reaches for the hem of his shirt. in one fluid motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it to the side, the movement effortless and maddeningly confident.

your eyes follow the shift of his muscles, the way they ripple under his skin, lean and defined. a faint sheen of sweat glistens across his chest, catching the dim light, highlighting every sharp line and curve. your gaze drifts lower, down to the sharp ridges of his abdomen. the faint trail of white hair starting just below his navel draws your attention, leading your eyes further, until his hands move to the waistband of his boxers.

he doesn’t rush. he hooks his thumbs under the fabric, dragging it down slowly, deliberately, letting the anticipation coil tighter in your stomach. as the fabric falls away, your breath hitches.

he’s fully bare now, and your mouth goes dry.

his cock is… breathtaking. thick and flushed a deep pink at the tip, already leaking beads of precum that catch the light as they drip down the length. it’s long, the kind of length that makes your thighs press together instinctively, wondering how he’ll fit, but the heat pooling low in your stomach burns hotter, overriding any hesitation.

his hand wraps around it, and he strokes himself slowly, his thumb swiping over the head to collect the wetness there. the motion is deliberate, almost lazy, and the soft groan he lets out sends a shiver down your spine.

you’re staring—you know you are—and he notices, his lips curving into a wicked grin as his eyes flick up to meet yours.

“don’t worry, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing as he leans forward, the head of his cock brushing against your folds, slick and hot. “i’ll make it fit.”

his words send a shiver through you, his voice low and dripping with confidence. the weight of his cock against your folds, hot and heavy, is enough to make your hips twitch instinctively, chasing the friction. but he doesn’t push in right away—of course he doesn’t. instead, he drags the head up and down your slick, letting it catch on your clit with every pass, teasing you until you’re squirming beneath him.

“satoru,” you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. you’re not above begging at this point. “please.”

his grin widens, his head dipping to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “what’s the rush, baby? we’ve got all night.”

“satoru,” you repeat, more insistently this time, and he groans at the sound of his name on your lips, his cock twitching against you.

“fuck,” he mutters, his voice tight now, losing some of that smug edge. “you sound so pretty when you beg.”

he lines himself up, his hand still wrapped around the base as he presses the head against your entrance. the stretch is immediate, a sharp, overwhelming mix of pleasure and pressure as he pushes in slowly, inch by inch.

“holy shit,” he breathes, his voice rough as his head falls forward, his hair brushing against your cheek. “you’re so fucking tight.”

your fingers clutch at his shoulders, your breath catching as he sinks deeper, the fullness stealing every coherent thought from your mind. he pauses halfway, his free hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward his.

“you okay?” he asks, and there’s something softer in his voice now, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

you nod, your voice shaky as you answer. “yeah. just—keep going.”

his jaw tightens, and he exhales slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he starts to move again. every inch feels impossibly deep, your walls stretching around him, and when he finally bottoms out, you both pause, your breaths mingling as you try to adjust.

“fuck,” he groans again, his voice strained as his hips twitch against yours. “you feel so good. better than i ever—” he cuts himself off with a shaky laugh, shaking his head. “shit, you’re perfect.”

you can barely respond, the stretch and fullness leaving you trembling. but then he starts to move, pulling out almost entirely before sliding back in with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips. the drag of his cock against your walls is enough to have you moaning, your head falling back against the pillow.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, his voice rough and approving as he sets a steady rhythm. “good girl. taking me so well.”

your hands trail down his back, your nails scraping lightly against his skin, and the groan he lets out sends a fresh wave of heat through you. his movements quicken, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, and every thrust has him hitting that perfect spot deep inside you, making you cry out.

“satoru—” his name falls from your lips again, and he leans down, his teeth grazing your neck as he thrusts harder, deeper.

“you’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips tighter, holding you in place as he drives into you. “you feel so good—so fucking perfect for me.”

the coil in your stomach tightens with every roll of his hips, the pressure building higher and higher until it’s unbearable. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing in tight circles that make your vision blur, and your moans grow louder, more desperate.

“come for me,” he demands, his voice rough and low in your ear. “let me feel you.”

the command sends you over the edge. your orgasm rips through you, your body arching into his as you cry out, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. your walls clench around him, and the sensation makes him groan, his thrusts growing erratic as he chases his own release.

“fuck—” he gasps, burying himself as deep as he can go as he comes, the heat of him spilling into you, thick and warm. his head falls to your shoulder, his breath ragged against your skin as he rides out the last waves of pleasure.

the room is quiet except for the sound of your heavy breathing, the air thick and charged as he finally pulls back, his weight pressing into you as he collapses onto the bed beside you. his arm slides around your waist, pulling you against his chest as he presses a soft, lazy kiss to your temple.

“told you i’d make it fit,” he murmurs, his voice still rough, but there’s a hint of smugness there, his lips curving into a small grin.

you can’t help the laugh that escapes you, your body still trembling against his. “you’re such an asshole.”

“yeah,” he agrees, his tone light, teasing, as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “but you like it.”

you roll your eyes, but there’s no heat to it, your lips curving into a faint smile as you bury your face against his chest. “shut up, satoru.”

“never,” he replies, and the warmth of his laughter vibrates through you, grounding you as your breaths slowly even out.

an. gojo with glasses... *hnnggghh*

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[theonottsbxtch]

EL COQUETO | FC43

an: welcome back as we write about my n.1 pookie, i've got some more works planned for him BUT i've just gotten to france so imma be very busy rip, based off of this request

summary: when franco catches feelings for a journalist who is persuaded he doesn't really want her.

wc: 7.6k

The paddock was alive with energy, buzzing with the hum of engines and the chatter of the press as they swarmed around the new driver. She watched him move through the crowd with ease, a slight swagger in his step and a dazzling smile that had already made him the focus of every camera. He was the story of the weekend: Franco Colapinto, the unexpected mid-season replacement, here to shake up the grid with his flashy driving style—and, evidently, his unapologetic charm.

He caught sight of her, raised an eyebrow in recognition, and made a beeline toward her with the confidence of someone who knew he’d be welcome, even if he hadn’t been invited.

“Hola,” he greeted, his voice carrying a thick, rolling Spanish accent that seemed to coat every word in warmth. “You must be my next question of the day. They warned me about the best journalist here—of course, I was told to behave.”

She gave him a practised smile, cool but polite. “Franco, welcome to the team. How are you feeling about joining mid-season?”

His eyes sparkled, unfazed by the businesslike tone. “How am I feeling?” He leaned in just slightly, as though sharing a secret. “Well, right now, very lucky. They said I’d get tough questions, but they didn’t say the interviewer would be… distracting.”

She fought the urge to look away, just barely managing to keep her composure. “So you feel ready for the pressure, then?” she asked, refocusing, though the tiniest hint of a blush warmed her cheeks.

“For the track? Yes, I am prepared to race anyone.” He paused, letting his gaze linger on her a beat too long. “For the interviews? That remains to be seen. Perhaps you can teach me how to handle that part, sí?”

She could sense her colleagues nearby, some watching with open amusement as they caught his flirtatious energy. Franco was as smooth as they came, that much was certain. But she wouldn’t be the one to crack first.

“I’m sure you’ll learn quickly,” she said, tilting her head, her voice steady, though her heart raced. “Now, back to the race. What are your goals for this weekend?”

His grin broadened, but he played along. “Goals for the weekend,” he echoed thoughtfully, shifting back into the question. “Win a few hearts, break a few records—no particular order.” He winked, and she felt a laugh bubble up before she stifled it, opting instead for a brisk nod.

“Right. Well, I hope you’re ready for the competition,” she managed.

He shrugged, eyes glinting with mischief. “With you here, qué competencia?”

She gave him a pointed look, resisting the smile tugging at her lips. “You know, charm doesn’t score you points on the track.”

“Ah, no?” He tilted his head, feigning surprise. “Then I suppose I’ll have to win the hard way.”

Just then, a flash of cameras went off around them, the media eating up every angle of Franco’s arrival. He seemed entirely unfazed, even performing slightly for the flashes. The crowd around them surged with questions about his plans, about what his first practice would look like, about his last season in Formula 2. But Franco’s attention was still locked on her, and he hadn’t missed a beat.

“So,” he said, with that soft smile of his, “do you think I’ll be able to charm Formula One, or will they be immune to my Argentian ways?”

She gave him a dry smile. “You might have your work cut out for you. It’s not a stroll through Argentina, after all.”

He laughed at that, clearly enjoying her wit. “You’re tough,” he said, a touch of admiration sneaking into his voice. “I can see why you’re the best.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Flattery won’t distract me from the questions, Franco.”

“No? Not even if I try very, very hard?” he asked, drawing out the words with a grin. It was ridiculous, really—the way he leaned into every word, the way he seemed to shine in the spotlight. But there was something endearing about it too, something that felt… unexpectedly genuine.

“Not even then,” she replied, her tone light but steady. “Let’s talk strategy. What’s your focus for your first race?”

He sighed, shifting slightly but keeping that glint in his eye. “Fine, I’ll behave,” he said with a sigh, straightening up to answer. “My focus is simple: get the car under me, push it to its limits, and aim for a strong finish. Maybe even a few surprise overtakes. I’ve been itching to get back on the track.”

It was the most serious answer he’d given yet, and she noted the shift in his voice—a hint of intensity breaking through the smooth, easy charm.

“And your teammate?” she pressed, sensing she’d found the thread to pull him out of his flirtatious veneer. “Are you prepared for the rivalry?”

Franco’s expression turned thoughtful for a moment, a flicker of something sharper in his eyes. “My teammate…” He paused, glancing away briefly before meeting her gaze again. “He’s William’s best. I’ll learn from him, give him the respect he deserves. But I didn’t come here to play second.”

She watched as someone next to her scribbled down his answer, though her mind wandered slightly, wondering at the complexity beneath his charm.

“Good to hear,” she said, offering a small nod. “We’ll all be watching to see if you live up to that confidence.”

“I live up to my promises,” he replied smoothly. Then he leaned in one last time, lowering his voice just for her. “One of them being to get at least one smile from you by the end of the weekend. I’ll start with that goal.”

Before she could reply, he gave a casual wave to the crowd, moving on to the next journalist as though he hadn’t just made her heart skip a beat with his easy, disarming confidence. She watched him go, flustered despite herself.

One thing was certain: Franco Colapinto was going to be a story.

When the time came, the race had barely begun, but her eyes were already glued to the screen, following the sleek white-and-blue car with Franco’s number emblazoned on the front. Despite her best efforts to stay neutral, to approach this like any other weekend, there was something magnetic about watching him. Franco Colapinto, the audacious rookie, who’d barely spent a week with the team and had taken to the grid without a single day of training in an F1 car.

From the start, it was clear he was playing it differently. He didn’t charge forward recklessly like other rookies might have, eager to prove themselves. Instead, Franco took a few cautious laps, feeling out the car, testing its responses. She noticed how his style evolved lap by lap, each one more aggressive, his moves sharper. He was adapting, learning the car right there in the thick of the race.

As the race progressed, he began to gain ground. Corner after corner, he squeezed every ounce of performance from his machine, edging closer to the pack with each lap. By mid-race, he was overtaking the backmarkers, slipping past seasoned drivers who had years on him, and the commentators were buzzing.

She caught herself smiling, feeling a strange, almost foolish pride as she watched. The memory of his easy, arrogant grin flashed in her mind, his voice low and teasing: “Do you think I’ll charm Formula One?” She’d laughed it off, but he had something special, didn’t he? That hunger for the track, the sheer nerve to go head-to-head with anyone in his way.

Then, as if her thoughts had summoned trouble, the camera cut to his car—a close-up on his visor as he fought for P12. Her heart caught as he made a daring move, threading his car through a razor-thin gap into the next turn. It was reckless, and yet somehow—somehow—he made it stick.

“P12!” The radio crackled through his team radio, their voice as surprised as she felt. For a rookie with zero F1 experience, it was practically a victory.

She exhaled, releasing a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. The chequered flag fell, and Franco’s car slowed down, his voice breaking through the team radio with a triumphant laugh, half-sighing, half-cheering in disbelief at his own result.

When she saw him back in the paddock, she managed to slip past the swarm of journalists waiting to pounce, positioning herself where he’d inevitably cross her path. She didn’t want to admit how much she wanted to hear his version of the race firsthand, to see if the adrenaline still sparkled in his eyes the way it had behind the visor.

When he finally caught sight of her, his face lit up. “Ah, my toughest questioner returns,” he said, the grin wide as he raked a hand through his hair, still tousled from the helmet. “So? Impressed?”

She raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her expression composed. “Not bad for a first race,” she said, voice calm but betraying the slightest hint of a smile. “Though I have to say, you took some pretty risky moves out there.”

Franco laughed, that low, familiar chuckle that could disarm anyone. “You sound like my engineer. But I had to make it interesting, didn’t I?” His gaze softened slightly, the playfulness ebbing for a moment. “I did better than you expected, maybe?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, leaning in just a bit. “I wouldn’t let it go to your head, though.”

He feigned a wince. “Ah, so I’ll have to work harder to impress you, then.”

With that, she couldn’t hold back the smile any longer. “Perhaps,” she said, voice softer. “But you’ve made a start.”

She followed the rest of the press corps into the media pen, her notebook in hand, watching as Franco slipped into his role with practised ease. The other drivers, still catching their breath, answered questions in measured tones, clearly exhausted. But Franco was… well, Franco. He leaned back against the barrier, relaxed, a half-smile playing on his lips as he answered questions, some about his lack of training, others about his shockingly high finish.

She hung back at first, observing him as he effortlessly charmed each journalist in turn, flashing that disarming grin and making even the toughest questions seem like casual conversation. But when his eyes caught hers across the small crowd, he subtly waved her forward, his grin widening.

“Ah, finally,” he said, his tone playful as she approached. “I was starting to think you were hiding from me.” The other journalists shot her curious glances, some smirking at Franco’s obvious interest.

She managed to keep her expression neutral, clearing her throat and lifting her voice to a professional tone. “Franco, congratulations on P12. Quite a debut.”

“Gracias, cariño,” he replied, eyes sparkling. “For a moment, I thought you didn’t think I could do it.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly take the most traditional route,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You had us all on the edge of our seats with those overtakes.”

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice to just above a murmur, his gaze fixed on hers. “I thought about what you said. ‘Charm doesn’t score points.’ So I had to give you something else to smile about.”

She could feel her cheeks warm under his steady gaze, and she fought to keep her expression cool. “Don’t flatter yourself, Franco. I’m just here to report the facts.”

“Hmm,” he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, though a playful smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, the fact is, I went from P20 to P12 on my first day. But somehow, I think I still haven’t impressed the person who matters most.”

“The person who—?” She trailed off, exasperated. “Franco, you were the story today.”

“Was I?” he asked, the innocent tone entirely ruined by the mischief in his eyes. “Because if I’m the story, you’re the reason it’s a good one.”

Before she could protest, he glanced over her shoulder at the next journalist, nodding politely. Then, in a flash, he was back to her, clearly undeterred. “When can we continue our interview?”

She forced herself to keep her composure. “I think you’ve given me more than enough material for one day.”

“A pity.” He shook his head, though his grin was unmistakable. “Then maybe next time, you’ll be a little more impressed.”

She watched him walk away, shoulders loose and steps casual as he moved from one group of reporters to the next, answering their questions with the same easy confidence he’d shown with her. She could still feel the heat of his gaze, the lingering effect of his words making her pulse quicken.

“Wow.” The journalist next to her, a seasoned reporter with a wry smile, gave her a knowing look. “You okay there? He has that effect, doesn’t he?”

She blinked, quickly snapping out of her daze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. “I—yeah, I don’t know what’s going on,” she muttered, shaking her head, trying to compose herself. But she could still hear his words ringing in her ears, his playful teasing, the warmth in his gaze. “The person who matters most.”

“Oh, I think I do.” The other journalist smirked, nodding in Franco’s direction as he laughed and clapped a fellow driver on the shoulder. “It seems Franco over here has a slight crush.”

She scoffed, though it came out more flustered than she’d intended. “Franco has a crush on every woman he talks to. It’s his… thing since he got here.”

The journalist raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Maybe so, but I’ve watched him all day and that was different.”

Her colleague’s words only made her cheeks grow warmer. Was it that obvious? She was used to managing tough interviews, unflappable under pressure, and here she was, thrown off by a driver who hadn’t even been in Formula 1 for a full week. But somehow, Franco’s charm wasn’t just some casual game to him; it felt more… intense. And he’d directed every bit of that intensity straight at her.

The journalist chuckled. “Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the attention—it’s not every day a rookie looks at you like you’re the finish line.”

She glanced away, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. She didn’t want to admit it, not to her colleague, and definitely not to herself, but there was something in the way he’d looked at her, like she was more than just another journalist, more than just one of the many people crowding his spotlight.

“Well, let’s hope he stays focused on the real finish line,” she replied, aiming for a casual tone that didn’t quite land. But she couldn’t deny it—Franco Colapinto was becoming more than just the story of the weekend. He was starting to feel like her story, too.

Later that evening, she sat in her hotel room, trying to unwind from the chaos of race day. The lights of the city glimmered outside her window, but her mind was still caught on Franco—his effortless charm, that maddening smirk, the way he’d singled her out, even with half the media pen watching. It was absurd, really. She’d covered far bigger stories, spoken with veteran champions, and yet one rookie had managed to leave her feeling more flustered than she’d care to admit.

With a sigh, she scrolled through her phone, halfheartedly catching up on messages, until a notification popped up that made her heart skip.

Francolpainto has sent you a message.

She hesitated, a mix of curiosity and nerves swirling in her stomach as she opened it. The message was simple, casual—like he hadn’t already spent the whole day keeping her off balance.

Franco: Hola! Are you at the hotel?

Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed a quick reply.

Her: Yes, I am.

The response came almost immediately.

Franco: Perfect! I’m downstairs in the lounge. Come have dinner with me?

She stared at the screen, her mind racing. It was tempting—she’d be lying to herself if she said it wasn’t. But she knew his type all too well, didn’t she? The charming new driver who flirted with every journalist, every fan, anyone who would listen. She could already imagine him saying the exact same things to another reporter tomorrow.

No, she couldn’t let herself get pulled in. Not by someone who was probably just looking for a bit of attention.

Her: Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. Long day.

She set the phone down, hoping that would be the end of it, but a new message came through almost instantly.

Franco: Too bad. I was hoping I’d finally get a smile out of you without a hundred cameras around.

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t deny the small flutter his words sent through her. He was persistent, that was for sure.

Her: You’re very determined, Franco. But I have to ask—do you make this invitation to all the journalists?

A pause, just a few seconds longer than his usual quick responses. Then, his reply appeared, simple and direct.

Franco: No, just the one who keeps me on my toes.

Her: Pity, this one isn’t intrested.

She set her phone down after typing that, ignoring the little thrill that shot through her when he messaged her again almost immediately. Franco’s charm was undeniably effective, but she wasn’t about to let herself become just another name on his roster of admirers. He’d have to do a lot more than offer a casual dinner invite if he wanted her attention.

Franco: Really? You’re going to turn me down just like that?

She smirked at the screen. Of course he wasn’t used to hearing “no.”

Her: Really. I’ve seen you in action today, Franco. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to keep you company.

A longer pause this time, as if her words had taken him off-guard. When he replied, his tone was more thoughtful.

Franco: That’s not what I meant. Today was… different. I don’t want to go to dinner with just anyone. I want to go with you.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay firm. She typed a quick reply, keeping it casual.

Her: Nice try. But I’ve seen the way you charm everyone you talk to. You’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want me to believe that.

A few minutes passed, and she wondered if maybe he’d let it go. But just as she was about to put her phone down, another message appeared.

Franco: Okay. Fair enough. How about this: tomorrow, after practice, let me show you what a real date looks like. No crowds, no cameras. Just you and me.

She hesitated, feeling the pull of curiosity mingled with doubt. She knew he could be as persistent as he was charming, and there was something intriguing about his willingness to push past her refusal.

Her: Why should I believe this isn’t just a game to you?

His response came quickly this time, almost earnest.

Franco: Because no one else makes me want to try this hard. I’m not playing around here, cariño. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.

She smiled, a little thrill rushing through her. For the first time, he seemed genuinely off-balance, unsure, and she couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Her: We’ll see if you mean that. Good luck tomorrow, Franco.

Franco: Gracias. And just so you know… I’m not giving up that easily.

The following week, she found herself in the bustling paddock of the Baku, her eyes catching sight of Franco’s car parked in the paddock. She had to admit, he’d stayed true to his word since their last exchange, staying out of her messages—though his lingering glances and smiles across the paddock hadn’t exactly disappeared. If anything, he seemed more determined, more focused. It was all part of his act, she reminded herself. And yet, there was something undeniably thrilling about it.

She was busy gathering notes when she felt a familiar presence beside her. Franco had sidled up, hands tucked into the pockets of his team jacket, his easygoing grin making her pulse quicken in spite of herself.

“Back to cheer me on, sí?” he asked, eyes bright with that familiar mischief.

She held back a smile, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “I’m here to cover the race, Franco. Your cheering section is back there.” She nodded to the growing crowd of fans waving his name on signs with Argentinan flags just a few metres away.

He laughed, the sound warm and rich. “They’re great, sure, but I was looking for one particular fan. The one who told me I’d have to work harder if I wanted to impress her.”

She raised an eyebrow, stepping out of earshot of the nearest camera. “Oh, you remember that, do you?”

“Every word,” he said, his gaze steady. “I thought about it all week.”

A small thrill ran through her, though she kept her voice steady and her tone cool. “Well, if you’re serious, you’ll have to do better than last week’s P12. Otherwise, it just looks like more talk.”

His expression shifted, his easy grin giving way to a flash of determination. “If it’s a higher position you want,” he said, leaning in just slightly, “then I’ll get it. Just keep watching.”

She crossed her arms, fighting the smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll be watching, Colapinto. Don’t disappoint me.”

He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes flickering with something that felt genuine, earnest. “I don’t plan to,” he murmured, stepping back with a wink before heading toward his car.

As he disappeared into the garage, her heart raced. Franco Colapinto, the rookie charmer, was setting out to prove himself to her. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was looking forward to seeing if he could keep his promise.

She sat in the media centre, eyes locked on the screen as the race unfolded. Franco’s car was easy to spot, weaving its way through the pack with a precision she hadn’t expected. He was starting further up this time, P18, but it was still a long shot to even think he’d break into the top ten. Yet as the laps ticked by, he held his ground, pushing, clawing his way forward with a tenacity that had everyone watching in awe.

“Impressive for a rookie,” she overheard another journalist mutter, and she felt a strange pang of pride.

Halfway through the race, Franco made a daring overtake, squeezing past two midfield drivers into P10. She sat forward, barely breathing. He wasn’t just hanging on—he was gaining, going after every single opportunity on the track with a fierceness she hadn’t seen before.

He’d promised her he’d finish higher than last week, and she’d thought it was just talk, maybe a little playful charm. But here he was, proving her wrong lap by lap.

By the time he made it to P9, she was leaning forward in her seat, clutching her notebook tightly. And then, with a bold move on the final few laps, he passed another driver, slipping into P8. Her heart raced as she watched him hold his ground, fending off the competition, determined to keep the position he’d fought so hard for. The chequered flag dropped, and Franco crossed the line in P8.

She exhaled, a rush of surprise and admiration flooding through her. She’d known he was talented, of course—he wouldn’t have made it this far otherwise. But this? Climbing ten positions in a single race, all for a chance to prove himself to her? It was more than she’d expected.

As the race ended, she moved through the paddock, her mind whirling. Franco Colapinto, the charming rookie who flirted with everyone, had just delivered one of the most impressive drives of the day. For her. And she wasn’t sure if she was more impressed with his skill or his determination to keep his word.

She barely had a chance to catch her breath before she was back in the paddock, microphone in hand, ready to take on the post-race interviews. As she waited for Franco, she replayed his climb through the ranks in her mind—his nerve, his timing, the way he’d handled himself on the track. It wasn’t just impressive; it was astonishing. And as much as she tried to shake it off, she couldn’t ignore the small thrill that ran through her at the thought that he’d done it, in part, for her.

Finally, Franco appeared, still in his race suit his face glistening with the sheen of hard work. There was a slight glimmer of triumph in his eyes as he spotted her, a grin spreading across his face. He walked over, ignoring the other cameras and reporters, his gaze focused squarely on her.

She raised her microphone, keeping her expression as neutral as she could. “Franco Colapinto, P8—your second race in Formula 1, and already a massive improvement from last week. Can you walk us through it?”

He took a quick breath, then leaned in, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Well, you know, someone told me I had to get higher than P12 if I wanted to impress them,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady on hers. “So I did it for them. Great motivation.”

Heat crept up her neck, and she forced herself to stay focused. She could feel the eyes of the other journalists and team members on them, her colleagues probably smirking at his obvious attempt to fluster her, but she managed to hold her ground.

“Impressive,” she said, keeping her voice level. “And this ‘motivation’—I assume it’s the same one who’s kept you on your toes all week?”

Franco’s grin grew wider, unabashed. “Absolutely. Turns out, when someone challenges me, I take it seriously.” He shifted his stance, his gaze softening just a fraction. “And if they ask, I’ll do it again.”

A few people around them chuckled, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. This wasn’t the usual post-race banter, and he didn’t seem interested in giving anyone the typical driver answers. He was speaking to her as if they were alone, and for a brief moment, she almost forgot the cameras.

“Well, whatever you’re doing,” she replied, finally letting a small smile slip, “it seems to be working. P8 is no small feat.”

He tilted his head, as if studying her. “Then maybe next week, you’ll set the bar even higher for me?” His voice was low, just enough for her to hear.

She felt her resolve waver slightly, but managed to maintain her professionalism. “We’ll see, Colapinto. For now, let’s just focus on how you plan to keep this up.”

He chuckled, shifting his grip on his helmet. “Oh, I think I have all the motivation I need right here.” With one last grin and a wink, he turned to greet the other journalists, leaving her to process what was easily the most disarming post-race interview she’d ever conducted.

Later that night, she was back in her hotel room, unwinding with a cup of tea, trying to shake off the lingering thrill of Franco’s performance—and his audacity in the post-race interview. She still couldn’t believe how he’d shamelessly directed half of his answers at her, leaving her just as off-balance as he had on the track. But as much as she tried to dismiss it, her thoughts kept circling back to his determination, his promise that he’d push harder just because she’d challenged him.

Her phone buzzed with a message, and she glanced down to see it was from the William’s Instagram Account.

Team Rep: Hey, what’s your room number?

She frowned for a moment, surprised by the casualness of the message. But teams occasionally followed up with journalists for clarifications or comments, especially after high-profile performances like Franco’s. Assuming they needed to drop off some post-race press notes or team statements, she quickly typed back her room number.

Her: Room 914.

Team Rep: Perfect. Thanks.

Not even a minute later, she heard a quiet knock on her door. She glanced at the time, wondering if the team rep had come by himself. But when she opened the door, the hallway was empty. Instead, resting on the floor in front of her was a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers—vibrant, unruly, and charmingly imperfect, wrapped with a small card slipped between the stems.

Her pulse quickened. She didn’t have to check the note to know exactly who had left them.

Still, curiosity got the best of her, and she crouched down, carefully lifting the bouquet to pull the card free.

“To my motivation: thank you for the push. Let’s raise the stakes again soon. — F.

A soft, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. She felt the warmth creeping up her cheeks, aware that Franco Colapinto had managed to surprise her again. It was a move so bold, so unexpected—and, somehow, more genuine than any casual dinner invitation could have been.

She sighed, shaking her head but unable to fight the smile any longer. As she placed the flowers on the table, their vibrant petals catching the soft light, she couldn’t help but wonder what Franco would pull next to prove himself. Because one thing was certain: he wasn’t giving up. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want him to.

She couldn’t resist. Picking up her phone, she sent a quick message, keeping it light, casual.

Her: Cute.

It didn’t take long for his response to pop up.

Franco: Oh? You find me cute?

She rolled her eyes, though her heart skipped a beat as she typed back.

Her: No, the flowers were a cute move.

A beat passed, and then came his reply, playful but edged with a hint of something more.

Franco: Well, then… would you let the guy behind the cute move take you out for dinner?

She hesitated, fingers hovering over her phone. She knew what this looked like—a line blurred between work and something personal, maybe too personal. And for him, a rookie who’d just broken into the sport, one misstep could easily become a distraction he couldn’t afford. It wasn’t just her reputation, but his too, and the stakes felt higher than either of them probably realised.

Her: I don’t know, Franco. There’s too much on the line.

A pause, longer than his usual quick responses, and for a moment she thought maybe he’d let it go. Then his reply came through, brief and simple.

Franco: Okay.

She stared at the word, an unexpected pang of disappointment catching her off guard. Franco, usually so persistent, so bold, had accepted her hesitation without a fight. But as much as she wanted to push away her own reservations, she knew she was right. Still, the thought of him backing off now left her feeling… unbalanced.

Setting the phone down, she let out a sigh, glancing over at the flowers resting on her table. A small part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, she’d made the wrong choice.

Four weeks later, they were back at the track, Austin, the usual energy humming through the paddock as teams and drivers prepared for the weekend ahead. She found herself scanning the garages, a little spark of nerves in her chest that had nothing to do with work. Franco had kept his distance over the past few weeks—well, as much distance as someone like him could manage. He was still his playful, charismatic self with the press, charming everyone in sight, but there was something different. He hadn’t followed up on his dinner invitation, hadn’t tried to push beyond her boundaries. She told herself it was for the best. Still, a small part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been too cautious.

Just then, she spotted him near the team’s garage, leaning against the wall in his race suit around his hips, deep in conversation with one of his engineers. When he looked up and saw her, his face lit up, a grin breaking across his face as if no time had passed. She felt a little of that old thrill in her chest as he walked over.

“Hola, stranger,” he greeted, hands tucked into his pockets of his team jacket, his voice as warm and casual as ever. “Miss me?”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “You were just here four weeks ago, Colapinto. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled, giving her that familiar, playful look. “Four weeks is a long time, don’t you think?”

She shook her head, feeling a bit of the tension from the past month melt away. Whatever her own doubts, Franco hadn’t let her brush-off change him—he was still here, as charming and persistent as ever. And somehow, that lifted a weight off her shoulders.

“Have you been behaving?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or should I be prepared for more unexpected flower deliveries?”

Franco’s grin grew wider, his eyes flashing with that spark she was growing dangerously used to. “Depends. You miss them?”

She laughed softly, looking down to avoid letting him see her smile. “I’d hardly admit that if I did.”

He leaned in just slightly, his voice lowering. “Good thing I’m a patient man, then. Because I’m not done yet.” There was a softness to his tone, a hint of something genuine beneath his usual confidence, and it made her heart skip a beat.

Despite herself, she found comfort in his persistence, in his way of toeing the line between serious and playful without putting any pressure on her. For all his charm, he hadn’t crossed any lines. He was waiting, leaving the door open if she ever wanted to step through.

As he turned to head back toward his car, he glanced over his shoulder, giving her a wink. “You know where to find me if you change your mind, cariño. I’ll be around.”

And with that, he disappeared into the garage, leaving her standing there with a soft smile, feeling just a little lighter, a little braver.

She found herself glued to the screen as the race unfolded, Franco’s car darting through the pack with all the finesse and raw determination she’d come to recognise in him. Starting from P17, he had a long climb ahead of him, and as the laps ticked down, he kept gaining ground, his timing sharp, his decisions bold. He was relentless, working his way through the grid with an intensity that kept her at the edge of her seat.

By the halfway mark, he was already up to P12, and she could feel the anticipation building among the journalists and crew around her. Franco wasn’t just driving; he was fighting for every single position, taking advantage of each moment with an almost calculated risk. And he was doing it with the confidence that had both frustrated and charmed her from the start.

Then, in the final laps, with a daring overtake on the inside line, he claimed P10. A top ten finish. It was almost too perfect—his words from the last race echoing in her mind as he crossed the line: “If they ask, I’ll do it again.”

The paddock was buzzing with excitement as she made her way toward the media pen, preparing herself for the post-race interview. She tried to tamp down the flutter of nerves, reminding herself that he’d been charming his way through interviews with her for weeks now. But there was something different this time, a spark of pride mingled with her excitement, and she couldn’t wait to see him walk in.

When he finally appeared, the smile on his face was brighter than she’d ever seen. Still in his race suit, a towel on his head, he strode over to her with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. She raised her microphone, struggling to keep her voice steady.

“Franco Colapinto,” she began, her own smile betraying just a hint of the thrill she felt. “P10 from P17—congratulations. Tell us, how did you manage such an impressive climb?”

He grinned, leaning casually into the microphone. “Well, you know me. I like a good challenge,” he said, his gaze holding hers for a second longer than necessary. “And I couldn’t let down the one person who told me I had to keep improving.”

The implication wasn’t lost on anyone listening, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She rolled her eyes slightly, playing it off as best she could. “Seems like you’re making a habit of climbing positions to impress,” she replied, keeping her tone light.

Franco’s smile softened, turning almost genuine. “For some things,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear, “it’s worth the effort.”

She swallowed, momentarily at a loss for words, but managed to pull herself together, keeping the interview rolling. “Well, you’ve certainly earned that P10. What’s the plan for next time? Any more surprise performances in store?”

“Oh, definitely,” he replied, flashing her a grin. “But let’s say I’ll aim higher than P10 next time. If someone out there is willing to set a new challenge for me, I’ll be ready.” His words hung in the air, a subtle invitation that made her heart skip a beat.

She couldn’t hold back her smile as she wrapped up the interview, his gaze lingering on her with that same unspoken promise. And as she watched him walk away, her heart raced with the thrill of what might come next, realising that maybe—just maybe—she was ready to see where this challenge would lead.

As Franco walked away, she felt the lingering warmth of his gaze, that same thrill coursing through her that she’d tried so hard to brush off. But now, it seemed, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to. The interview had felt like more than just a casual exchange; his words, his look—there was something real beneath the flirtation, something she found herself wanting to chase.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of post-race coverage and media duties, but her thoughts kept drifting back to him, to the way his eyes had held hers, steady and genuine, as he’d promised to aim even higher. It was only when she caught herself looking around the paddock, almost instinctively, that she realised she was seeking him out. By then, her professional caution had faded, replaced by something far less reasonable but far more enticing.

She knew she was violating so many unspoken rules as she made her way around the paddock, ducking out of the more crowded paths and slipping past the occasional lingering crew member. A pang of guilt buzzed at the back of her mind, but it was no match for the magnetic pull drawing her toward his driver’s room.

She stopped outside the door, exhaling a shaky breath as her pulse raced with a mix of nerves and anticipation. The hallway was quiet, the sounds of the bustling paddock fading away. Before she could second-guess herself, she raised her hand and knocked softly.

The door opened, and there he was, in a grey tracksuit and plain black top, his expression shifting from surprise to that warm, familiar smile that had always managed to disarm her.

“Well,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “I didn’t expect my motivation to show up in person.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding her smile. “I figured I’d come to make sure you’re planning to keep your word. That climb to P10 wasn’t exactly a small feat.”

His smile softened, and he stepped aside, wordlessly inviting her in. As the door clicked shut behind them, the noise and pressures of the paddock slipped away, leaving just the two of them. The look he gave her—warm, unguarded, and almost vulnerable—made her heart skip a beat.

She’d broken so many of her own rules just to get here, but in this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to regret a single one.

Taking a moment to look around, she noticed his bags were packed and ready for the triple header and that there was nowhere to sit.

She sat on the edge of his bed, trying to look at ease despite the heat rising in her cheeks. Franco stood in front of her, close enough that her knees brushed his legs. The room felt charged with his presence, the quiet intensity in his gaze making it impossible to look away.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he murmured, leaning down a bit. The way his dark eyes lingered on her, sweeping over her face and holding her gaze, sent a rush of warmth through her.

She felt a smile tugging at her lips, trying to keep her voice steady. “Figured I’d make sure you’re holding up after all that hard work.”

He chuckled, his voice low, with just a hint of playfulness. “Oh, I’m holding up just fine.” He reached out, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek, letting his thumb linger just a moment too long against her skin. “In fact, I think I’m doing better than fine.”

Her cheeks flushed even deeper, but she held his gaze, determined not to let him throw her off-balance—at least not completely. “You know,” she said, trying to match his tone, “you don’t have to turn everything into a line, Colapinto.”

Franco tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Only with you, cariño.”

She let out a soft laugh, her heartbeat picking up as he moved closer, until he was standing right between her legs. She felt his fingers trace gently along her jawline, his thumb tilting her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes.

“Not used to being flirted with, cariño?” he asked softly, his voice smooth and teasing.

She swallowed, feeling her blush deepen as her usual composure slipped. “No… not like this.”

“Shame,” he murmured, his thumb grazing her cheek as his eyes searched hers, warm and intent. His voice softened, and the playfulness gave way to something more genuine. “Because I’m just getting started.”

She felt her breath hitch, her pulse racing as his words sank in, leaving her both disarmed and impossibly drawn in. And in that moment, she realised that every wall she’d put up around him was slipping away, piece by piece.

For a moment, she couldn’t take her eyes off him, the air between them thick with anticipation. Then, she noticed the small silver chain dangling from his neck, glinting faintly against the fabric of his black top, and without thinking, she reached up, wrapping her fingers around it gently.

Franco’s gaze flickered in surprise, his breath catching as she tugged on the chain, pulling him just close enough that their faces were inches apart. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, and the intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through her that made her heart pound. His hands settled on either side of her hips as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the charged silence.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, soft and exploratory, but the warmth in his response was immediate. His hand slid up her back, pulling her closer, and she felt his fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his touch gentle yet confident.

She didn’t realise how tightly she was gripping his chain until she felt his hand cover hers, his thumb tracing lightly over her knuckles as if to say, I’m here.

When they finally parted, both of them slightly breathless, Franco looked at her, hand caressing her cheek, his smile soft and real, devoid of his usual playfulness. He looked at her with a quiet intensity that made her stomach flip.

“You know," he started, his voice dipping into that smooth, charming tone, “I thought I never had a chance with you. You made me work for every single look, every smile…” He shook his head, his hand still resting against her cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath her jaw. “I was convinced you’d never actually let me get this close.”

She felt a warm, amused smile tugging at her lips as she listened to him, his words genuine but tinged with that familiar, playful charm. Watching him, her heart surged with an undeniable impulse, one she didn’t want to ignore any longer. In one fluid motion, she slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his again with a fierce, unrestrained intensity that sent sparks through her.

Franco’s surprise melted instantly, his hands slipping from her cheek to either side of her hips, matching her passion. The kiss deepened, turning slower, almost reverent, as if neither of them wanted the moment to end. She could feel his pulse racing under her hands, his warmth overwhelming in the most exhilarating way.

Without breaking the kiss, she leaned back, drawing him down with her onto the bed. She felt his weight settle gently over her, his hands bracing on either side of her as he kissed her with a hunger that felt both new and inevitable. When he finally pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over hers, his voice was breathless, a bit dazed.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his fingers tracing down her arm as he held her gaze, a vulnerable softness there she hadn’t seen before.

“Good,” she whispered back, her own voice unsteady, feeling as though her walls were completely gone now. “Because I don’t plan on making it easy for you.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned down, his mouth finding hers again with an eagerness that left them both completely lost in each other, as if the rest of the world had faded away.

Maybe he was worth the wait.

the end.

[moonstruckme]

could i request poly!wolfstar or poly!jily where they’re pursuing reader and reader accidentally matches with them (like matching costumes) at a halloween party?

i think the teasing and flirting would be so cute!! 🥰

Thanks for requesting!

cw: mention of alcohol, smoking, Sirius makes lame and humorously objectifying jokes

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You arrive to the party late, the Gryffindor common room already bustling by the time you and your friends have finished doing your last-minute costume alterations. There are glowing pumpkins floating on the ceiling, someone has charmed the room so that a thick layer of fog drifts along the floor, and the air already smells slightly of booze and cigarette smoke. 

You lose Lily’s attention immediately, but that’s to be expected. You’re more than accustomed by now to her searching for her boyfriend whenever you enter a room. What’s unexpected, however, is her reaction when she finds him.

“Uh oh.” 

“Uh oh?” You look at her, following her gaze to the couch across the room. “Oh. Oh, no.” 

Lily laughs. “It sort of seems like fate, doesn’t it? I think it’s sweet.” 

Sitting on their usual couch are the marauders. James, predictably, is wearing a costume matching Lily’s; they’ve both come as cowboys. Unfortunately, Sirius and Remus are sitting next to him dressed as pirates. 

You’re also dressed as a pirate. 

“It’s not sweet,” you moan. “If I go back up, do you think Marlene will make me some of her fake blood? I can change and be a vampire instead.” 

Lily hums. “Think it’s too late for that, babe.” 

She’s looking back towards the couch, where the boys have already caught sight of the pair of you. Sirius is beaming something atrocious, and even Remus looks amused while his boyfriend waves you over exuberantly. 

Lily takes your hand in hers, tugging you with her as she goes to them. 

“Howdy, darlin’.” James puts on an exaggerated southern drawl as you approach, opening his arms to his girlfriend. 

“My, my,” says Sirius as you sit between him and Lily, “don’t you look nice.” 

You ignore the warmth that brings to your face. “The point wasn’t really to look nice.” 

Your costume is thrown together from things you already had, the only thing that really distinguishes you as a pirate being the bandana you’ve tied around your head. Remus appears to have gone a similar route, although the white shirt he’s tucked into his pants looks a bit more on-theme than yours and he’s clearly been forced to wear an eye patch which is currently flipped up so that it’s not covering anything. Sirius, of course, does nothing halfway. He’s wearing a billowy black top that’s been unbuttoned nearly to his navel, more belts and buckles than you knew one person could have, and a captain’s hat he surely bought just for the occasion. Altogether, you make a fairly fearsome group. 

“Not sure you can help it, gorgeous.” Sirius winks at you. “You always look nice. Did you plant a spy to find out what you needed to wear to match us, then?” 

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “I should probably be asking you that.” 

“Must’ve just been fate,” Sirius says. It’s so close to what Lily said that your cheeks blaze, but you also don’t know if you quite believe him. Remus, too, turns to give his boyfriend a questioning look. 

Sirius catches it and scoffs, holding up his hands. “I didn’t! Honestly.” 

Remus nods, appeased. In a less booming voice than his boyfriend’s, he tells you, “You do look very nice.” 

“Thanks.” You catch yourself fingering the ends of your hair like a nervous schoolgirl and tuck your hands underneath your thighs. “So do both of you.” 

Sirius grins knowingly, and you have to fight the urge to shove your face into Lily’s shoulder for refuge. He knows as well as you do that for all of his brazen flirting, it’s Remus’ quiet sincerity that flusters you the most. You’re not sure when it started, exactly, but it’s been clear for some time now that both boys are interested in you. You’re not sure in what capacity—they could want to take you to bed for one night, integrate you into their relationship, or anything in between—but as of yet you’ve neither encouraged nor discouraged their advances. 

“Thanks, dollface.” Sirius gives a winsome crack of a smile. “You know, I’ve already acquired some booty, but I wouldn’t mind winning some more.” 

“Sirius…” Remus groans.

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “Some what?” 

“You know, like pirate’s loot? My booty.” Sirius sidles closer to Remus, giving his thigh a solid pat. 

Remus’ eyes narrow. “I will leave you here and go back upstairs right now.” It sounds as though this is not the first time this has been threatened. 

“I worked hard for it!” Sirius defends himself. 

You cover your mouth against an appalled giggle. “It?” 

“I toiled, and I fought, and I had to battle many other fearsome ships! It’s mine.” 

“Remus,” you stage whisper, “blink twice if you need help.” 

Remus’ smile blooms, but when he starts to blink Sirius objects, “Oi!” 

“No,” you correct him, “you’re supposed to say ‘arr.’”

Sirius is grinning again, too, clearly chuffed that you’re joking around with them even if it is at his expense. “If I say ‘arr,’ you’ll agree to be my second booty for the rest of the night?” 

“I won’t make any promises. But it would be persuasive.” 

He growls enthusiastically, “Arrrrgh!” and slams his fist down on the table. The sound it makes is enough to tear James and Lily’s attention away from each other. 

“Merlin,” says James. “Did’ya hurt yourself there, Pads?” 

“No,” Sirius replies, but he gives his hand a little shake. 

Remus, rolling his eyes, takes it and kisses the side. He brings it into his lap for safekeeping. Your heart gives a painful little throb. 

You must have some stupid lovestruck look on your face, because Lily peers around James to see you better, a smile playing on her lips. She knows about your crushes on the two boys, just as well as she knows that you haven’t decided what to do about them yet. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t like to help you along. 

“Come on,” she says to James, standing and taking him with her. “Let’s dance, and I’ll let you pretend to lasso me.” 

James beams. “Yes!” 

You watch them go while Sirius seizes the opportunity to move to your other side, the three of you taking up the entirety of the couch. 

“Phew,” he sighs, swinging his feet over the armrest. 

“You may want to take your legs out of the fog,” Remus suggests, also using the new space to bring his feet onto the couch. “It gets sticky after a while.” 

You frown but do as he says, pulling your feet from your shoes so that only your socks are on the couch. And sure enough, when you touch a finger to your ankle it feels like there’s an odd sort of coating over it. 

“I thought it was just fog,” you say. 

“It was supposed to be,” agrees Sirius, “but James entrusted the task of making it to Marlene, and there are some who think she might’ve laced it with some sort of drink.” 

“I’m some,” Remus owns. 

You smile. “So is the point that you should be able to…drink the fog?”

“No clue.” Sirius leans over the edge of the couch. “Let’s find out.” 

“Sirius, no,” Remus says weakly, trailing off when it’s clear the other boy won’t be deterred. You both watch as he sucks in what fog he can, closing his mouth around it. “That’s disgusting, everyone’s been walking around in it.” 

“I think it might be brandy,” Sirius muses. “It’s faint, though.” 

Remus frowns. “I’m not kissing you until you brush your teeth.” 

Sirius grins. “Yes, you are.” 

“We’ll see, won’t we?” 

“Wouldn’t you rather just get your own drink?” you ask Sirius. “Rather than sampling the faint traces of brandy that have been touched by other people’s shoes, I mean.” 

“Oh, rest assured, gorgeous, I’m all covered.” Sirius picks a cup up from the table. He seems to notice at the same moment that you don’t have a cup of your own. “Would you like one, though?” 

You glance to the table cluttered with alcohol and mixers, a throng of students clustered around it. “I’ll get one in a bit.” 

“Let me.” Sirius stands. He edges around the table, stopping to pinch your chin affectionately and give his boyfriend a kiss. “Rem, my love, keep her company, would you?” 

“You don’t have to,” you object. “I can get it.” 

“No, don’t be ridiculous. A pirate has to take care of his booty, hasn’t he?” 

“I never agreed to that!” you call after him. In a quieter voice, you add, “And I don’t think that’s how the relationship between a pirate and their booty works.” 

“Let him go,” Remus advises you. You startle a bit when his hand finds your knee, resting there in fond commiseration. “If he’s going to degrade us like this, he can at least bring us drinks.” 

You feel your lips tilt. “Are you really going to let him call you his booty all night?” 

“Probably.” Remus shrugs, his eyes finding his boyfriend across the room. “Anyway, it’s nice not to be alone in it. As far as he’s concerned, you’re already his as well.”

[hoffmansgirl]

𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗬 𝗕𝗢𝗬 ━ nicholas a. chavez

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ author's note. based off this request... enjoy ♡

↱ cw. nsfw (+18)! switch!reader x switch!nicholas, begging, dirty talk, oral (m+f receiving), praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected piv, creampie, this one's kinda sweet ☹️ | wc. 2929

𝓣he last few days were pure torture for nicholas.

he just came back home from filming, gone for almost three months; three agonising, incredibly hard months. of course he was happy to see his girlfriend after such a long time. they would cuddle for hours, and she'd ask him all about the movie he was currently working on. y/n was so excited, eyes sparkling with excitement every time she spoke to him, yet she could feel the shift in her boyfriend's behaviour. something was so off.

he was more... touchy than usual. hands on her body every time and every second, kisses needier, body reacting to even the slightest touch. nicholas often found himself staring at her when she was doing casual stuff around the house, shorts riding up on her thighs as she stood on her tiptoes to get something from the cupboard, cock twitching uncomfortably in his pants.

three months. three months without sex. of course he masturbated, and of course y/n would send him a dirty picture every now and then. but it wasn't enough, not at all. and ever since he got home, he was waiting for something, anything; an occasion to push his fingers under her panties, or under her t-shirt to grab her boobs.

and y/n wasn't oblivious to it. his erection pressed against her in the most unexpected moments, he pushed into her slightly, trying to get her to notice. nicholas' desperation was so visible, but she wanted him to break. she wanted him to ask for it.

it was a friday afternoon, and instead of going out, they stayed in, deciding on watching friends.

"mind if i take a shower first?" y/n asked, walking down the stairs, eyes lighting up at the sight of her boyfriend already curled up on the couch, waiting.

"no, no. of course not", he replied mindlessly, looking through his instagram. his eyes met hers, and the sight of her standing there, smiling, almost made his stomach hurt with need.

"be right back. love you!" she ran upstairs quickly and nicholas heard the bathroom door closing shut. he exhaled, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. it's been so hard. and y/n acted as if she didn't notice the shift in his behaviour. he knew she wanted him to beg for it, but he didn't really know where to start. and most importantly, he was ashamed of feeling that way. why was sex the only think he could think about? why did it keep him up, dick hurting as she pressed her ass against him with purpose, pretending to be asleep?

before he could find the answer, y/n appeared at the top of the stairs, looking absolutely scrumptious.

face flushed from the bathroom's temperature, his t-shirt hanging on her body, ending mid-thigh, and he wondered if she even wore any panties underneath.

y/n rubbed the towel on her damp hair as she walked down the stairs. she took a seat next to nicholas on the couch, lashes fluttering as she looked up at him.

"y/n...", he started, quite unsure how to talk about his need, as his problem seemed so ridiculous.

"yes, babe?", she cocked her head, brushing a hand through her hair, throwing the towel on the floor mindlessly.

his breath hitched, usual confidence fading as he gazed at her, looking so effortlessly hot.

"i..." nicholas hesitated, and before he could think about it, his lips were already on hers, hands tugging at her - his - shirt, guiding y/n to straddle his hips. y/n melted into his touch, smiling into the kiss. "what is it, nick?" she let out between kisses, but he was all over her again, hips thrusting up to meet her thong-covered pussy.

"no, no. you have to tell me first", she whispered, pulling at nicholas' hair, causing him to groan. his eyes fluttered shut, chest heaving with each breath, cheeks flushing slightly. "what do you want?"

she grounded herself on his lap, cunt pressing on his hard-on purposely.

"fuck- i need you. need you so bad, doll", he muttered, chasing her lips with his', and she grinned, allowing him to force his tongue into her mouth, exploring every inch of her as she whimpered softly. and it drove him crazy, the taste of her, the feeling of her skin against his hands, everything she did.

y/n bit on his lip, pulling away just for a second before placing wet kisses on his neck, tongue twirling around his skin, her long nails clawing at his arms.

she moved down, sucking on his nipple softly, tongue lapping at the bud, earning a satisfied groan from nicholas. she licked, sucked and bit every part of his hard chest, teasing him, playful smile on her lips.

"fuck- shit, i want- i want your mouth", nicholas whimpered, chest heaving as she worshipped him, the upper part of his body sticky from her saliva.

"but baby, i am using my mouth", she grinned, meeting his half lidded eyes before dropping to her knees between his legs. she traced the bulge in his pants with her hand, breathing deeply at the sight of him.

"suck my dick. please, just- stop teasin'", nicholas' hips lifted up from the couch as y/n tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants. she took his boxers off in the process, and his cock sprang free, angry red and leaking with pre-cum. y/n's eyes widened at the sight of him, so defenceless and desperate, her own arousal soaking her black panties.

"is this why you've been acting so weird lately?" she asked, teasingly running her hands over his muscular thighs, and his cock twitched at the sensation. nicholas' head fell back against the couch, yet he kept an intense eye contact, bucking his hips up. his cock bounced, and he could almost feel her own need as she bit her lip at the sight.

"yes, yes, yes", he chanted as she stuck her tongue out, taking his dick in her hand, guiding it to her lips. "needed you so bad, doll. fuck, yes", nicholas muttered lowly at the sensation of her mouth closing around his pink tip, tongue swirling around it as if she was licking at a lollipop. she looked up at him, the sight of his well trained body making y/n moan around his shaft. she was so eager to please him, so eager to feel his cum paint the back of her throat. it never failed to amaze him, the way she was worshipping him, taking her sweet, sweet time teasing him, enjoying it almost as much as he did.

nicholas' hands found her hair, and he tugged at it, causing another moan to escape y/n's mouth.

she sucked on the tip softly before pulling away, a string of saliva still connecting her lips to his cock. her tongue darted out as she licked at the underside of his shaft, greedily tracing the pulsing veins adoring it. her tongue reached down to lap at his balls, huge and full of cum, almost begging for her attention. nicholas' cock twitched and his whole body contracted at the stimulation.

"more, please, doll-" he blurted, breathless, and she looked up at him as she left soft kisses on the insides of his thighs. slowly starting to stroke his big cock in her hand, the other tracing over the muscles on his stomach.

he met her eyes, biting his lip at the sight of her on her knees, being so good for him, before throwing his head back in pure bliss. the teasing made him feel lightheaded, heart beating so fast that he thought he might just drop dead any second.

"you're so big" y/n mumbled, almost as if she was talking to herself, swiping her thumb over his sensitive tip. she watched his face with wide eyes, amazed by the sounds that left his mouth and the way his muscles tensed. she thought that in this exact moment, she had complete control over him for the first time ever.

never taking her hand off his member, she got up from her spot on the floor. nicholas' eyes snapped open, wide and desperate, as she leaned over to kiss him.

y/n took her sweet time, never stopping the slow movements of her hand, and he whined into the kiss, his own needy hands already roaming over her body. nicholas melted into her touch, hips starting to rise from the couch as he grew impatient, he needed more. y/n smiled into the kiss before pulling away, every move graceful and thoughtful.

"can i sit on your face, pretty boy?" she asked softly; nicholas' eyes sparkled beautifully and his cock twitched, and she took it as a 'yes'.

what he didn't expect was her turning her back on him, ass on full display as she straddled his chest, and the realisation of what she had in mind finally bloomed in his mind.

before he had the time to think about it, y/n was already straddling his face, and he inhaled, breathing her in greedily. her sweet pussy glistened with wetness, and his cock twitched when she leaned over to be face to face with his his length.

nicholas wasted no time; he wet his lips before swiping his tongue against her clit, straight up to her hole. he gripped y/n's ass in his big hands, pressing her against his face even more, a soft groan leaving his mouth at the taste of her.

she cried out and wrapped her mouth around him, trying to take him as deep as possible. the sensation of nicholas' mouth on her pussy combined with the taste of him had her head spiralling.

she was thankful he wasn't teasing her, going straight into licking, sucking and kissing at her clit, not a single thought in his head as he ate her out.

"fuck, i missed this pretty mouth of yours- and this sweet pussy. so good, so mine", nicholas whined pathetically, making y/n moan around his shaft, gagging slightly when he hit the back of her throat. she grabbed his thighs for stability, licking the underside of his shaft before focusing on his tip again.

nicholas' hands squeezed y/n's butt cheeks tightly as he sloppily made out with her pussy, tongue darting out to flick at the little button hidden between the folds. his mouth closed around it and he sucked hard enough to make her see stars. he could feel y/n's legs beginning to shake as she whined around his cock, bobbing her head quickly, just how she knew he liked it.

"shit, doll, i'm gonna cum-" he managed to get out, already on edge from her previous teasing, as he threw his head back.

y/n moaned around him, taking him in fully, encouraging him to fill her mouth. nicholas groaned shamelessly as his hips twitched, cock getting even deeper in her mouth, nails digging into her flesh with enough force to leave marks.

his vision went white for a second as he painted her throat white, and she took all it without protest, still bobbing her head on him, milking him dry until his whole body started to twitch from overstimulation. y/n let him leave her mouth with a "pop", breathing heavily, swallowing all of his cum momentarily, the taste of him only turning her on more as her pussy clenched around nothing.

before she had the time to react, she was already on her back, legs spread as nicholas towered over her, still slightly lightheaded from the earth shattering orgasm he just experienced.

"i just can't get enough of you" he whispered, arms on both sides of her head as he leaned down, nose brushing against hers. he then started to leave sweet kisses all over her neck, chest - focusing on her breasts for a little longer - before finally kneeling down between her legs, spreading them just a little wider, pupils blown with lust as he took in the sight before him.

"nick-" she didn't get to finish as his mouth came in contact with her pussy yet again, moving his tongue around her clit in fast circles. y/n's back arched, and her hand found place in his hair, the sight of her boyfriend between her legs making her legs shake slightly. he left open mouthed kisses on her slit, making out with her pussy sloppily, before forcing his tongue into her little hole, nose bumping against her clit. nicholas' eyes snapped open to watch her, and his cock twitched yet again, begging for attention, when she made eye contact with him. and y/n felt it too; she clenched around him, legs threatening to close around his head, but nicholas was quick to spread her thighs open, arms wrapping around them tightly. he was being oh so messy, her sweet juices covering the lower half of his face, obscene sounds echoing in the living room - but he didn't seem to care at all.

"come on, pretty girl, give it to me", he almost begged, and y/n tugged at his messy hair again, the feeling of his warm tongue on her clit making her cry out yet again. groans left nicholas' mouth as he devoured her, and one last suck of his mouth around her clit was enough to send her spiralling. y/n moaned his name out loud, and he responded with a satisfied moan as his girl's sweet essence filled his mouth. nicholas lapped at her hole, eager to not miss a drop of her cum, and she twitched in overstimulation. he didn't stop for another minute or two, too lost in his own pleasure, soft moans leaving his mouth as he placed soft kisses and licks on her clit to calm her down.

when he finally pulled away, y/n's legs flew shut, chest heaving with uneven breaths. nicholas smiled proudly before kissing her softly, and she wrapped her legs around his torso, running a hand over his broad shoulders. she could feel nicholas' cock pressing against her thigh, leaking with pre-cum yet again, and her pussy clenched at the feeling of him.

"i need to be inside you, baby", he whined desperately, hiding his face in the crook of her neck; her chest tightened at his voice, so defenceless and needy.

"use me, pretty boy", y/n breathed him in, and he wasted no time in running his tip over her clit, teasingly slow. she moaned at the sensation, hips bucking to feel more of him; nicholas certainly didn't like that, as he pushed her down, hands gripping at her hips tightly. after teasing her for another second or two, he forced himself into her, the wetness coating her walls making it easy for him to move.

satisfied moans left both of their mouths, and nicholas sat back on his knees, watching his cock slowly disappear in her tight hole, mouth slightly agape at the sight.

"you're so wet for me, so warm", he breathed out, gripping y/n's thighs, forcing her to open her legs just a little wider. he watched her face twist in pleasure as he buried himself to the hilt, cock twitching in anticipation. y/n gripped at the couch cushion tightly, her eyes rolling back into her head; the sensation of his cock kissing her cervix with every single move of his hips almost unbearable.

y/n lost it the moment nicholas' fingers came in contact with her perky nipples, rolling them between his long fingers, occasionally squeezing the soft flesh of her breasts in his palms. she gasped breathlessly, sound almost inaudible as pure ecstasy filled her mind.

"look at me, c'mon, doll", he panted, holding himself back, even though his thrusts got more aggressive, desperate, sloppy. y/n opened her eyes, meeting his own immediately, and she clenched around him. hard. "fuck, nick- i- i'm gonna cum" she managed to choke up, and her hands found his strong arms, holding onto them for dear life.

"yeah? come on then, give it to me. i want to feel you cum around me", these words, combined with his powerful thrusts and the look of pure ecstasy on his face sent her over the edge. nicholas was quick to lift her up from the couch slightly, the new angle making him go even deeper; she clenched around his cock as she came, moaning his name like a prayer.

nicholas shut his eyes at the sensation, and kissed her once again, his restless thrusts not stopping even for a moment. the taste of her made his head spin, cock twitching as y/n bit on his lower lip, shaking from overstimulation, cunt gripping him tightly. he buried himself fully inside of her and let go, ropes of cum filling her womb, and he grinded his hips against hers to ride out his orgasm, groans leaving his mouth as he fell forward, entire body shaking.

"holy fucking shit", he managed to get out, and y/n fell back on the couch with him, completely fucked and spent. nicholas hid his face in the crook of her neck, leaving soft kisses there, and she played with his hair mindlessly.

"i love you", he whispered softly after a couple of minutes, finally letting his body relax. y/n smiled at the confession. she planted a kiss on his forehead, heart beating hard in her chest; the love she had for him almost overwhelming. "i love you too, pretty boy."

━━━━━━━━━━

2024, hoffmansgirl ©

nicholas alexander chavez masterlist ✿ | about the author

tags (comment to be tagged in my next nicholas writings): @destrolid @tater-tots-thoughts