#i do think the next one will be slightly unexpected

[drewizz]

THIRD TIME - 02. peripheral

pairing ☆ rafe cameron x reader

WARNINGS: none. (except that the yearning starts..)

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

TAGLIST: open! comment or send in an ask

series masterlist. previous next

peripheral. (adj) related to the key issue but not of central importance

The soft chime of the coffee shop door was as familiar to you every morning, likewise your bitter espresso you ordered. It wasn’t just a part of your routine – it was your peaceful oasis. It was your moment of solitude and silence before the day demanded too much from you. With a content smile and a sigh, you stepped in the shop.

The comforting, aromatic smell of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries wrapped around you, quite a stark contrast to the beachy smell right outside the other side of the door. It was early enough that only a handful of customers lingered, their quiet murmurs of all different conversations blending with the low hiss of the espresso machine and orders being yelled out.

You had already ordered your usual, picking it up from the counter. But then a sharp laugh cut through the hum of the coffee shop.

It was him.

Rafe Cameron.

Of all the places and all the mornings, he had to be here. Leaning casually against the counter, his phone in one hand, looking all effortlessly polished and annoyingly at ease.

Your first instinct was to leave. No coffee was worth this. But then you caught yourself. Why should you let him ruin your morning? This was your place, your time.

You turned your attention back to the pickup counter, as if you were searching for your order. (There was only one drink on the counter.) Maybe, if you stayed quiet and kept your head down, he wouldn’t notice you.

But it’s Rafe, and Rafe always notices.

“Well,” his voice carried across the shop, loud enough to attract a few people’s attention. His smirk followed shortly after, all sharp and cocky. “We meet again. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You ignored him, busily shoving napkins inside your bag.

“Not even a hello?” he teased, stepping closer.

Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t look at him. “I didn’t realize we were on ‘hello’ terms.”

He let out a soft chuckle, more amused than offended. “Fair enough. But you’re not very good at pretending I’m not here, you know.”

You turned then, fixing him with a glare. “What do you want?”

He leaned away from the counter, standing up, tilting his head as if your question genuinely amused him. “What do I want? I guess a conversation. Isn’t that what normal people do?”

You scoffed. “Normal people don’t start conversations by picking fights.”

His grin widened. “I wasn’t picking a fight. Just saying hi.”

“Right,” you said flatly, crossing your arms. “Because you’re so friendly.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You’ve got a lot of fire for someone who barely knows me.”

“And you’ve got a lot of nerve for someone who barely knows me,” you countered back.

Rafe laughed again, the sound surprisingly genuine, though it did nothing to soften the edge of his presence. “I think I know enough.”

“Oh, really?” You challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

He stepped closer, closing the distance between them just enough to make your pulse quicken. “You’re stubborn,” he said, his tone low but teasing. “Quick to snap. And you're getting haughty for no reason.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you’re arrogant, condescending, and way too full of yourself.”

He held your gaze, his smirk never wavering. “You’re not wrong.”

The audacity of his admission left you momentarily speechless.

“You don’t make conversation. You make trouble,” you muttered, carefully picking up your coffee.

“Trouble?” he repeated, mock-offended. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” you said flatly.

He laughed again, a low sound that grated on your nerves and sent an unexpected flutter through your chest. “So, is this you're way of proving that you’ve got me all figured out already, huh?”

“I don’t need to,” you replied, your voice sharp. “You make it easy.”

For a moment, his smirk faltered, just a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual smug expression. “And here I thought you were full of surprises.”

With a roll of your eyes, you were heading straight for the door. However, you didn’t get too far.

“Hey, wait,” Rafe said, his voice stopping you in your tracks.

You turned halfway, one hand on the door, your patience wearing thin. “What now?”

His expression was oddly casual. “What’s your name?”

“You don’t know my name?” Your eyebrows shot up. Huh. You never realized that your name was never mentioned between each other.

“Not yet,” he admitted, the hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “But I figured I’d ask.”

Your pulse quickened – whether from irritation or something else, you couldn’t tell. “Why do you care?”

“Curiosity,” Rafe said simply, his gaze steady.

“Curiosity kills the cat,” you replied, your tone clipped.

His grin widened, and he leaned in closer, slightly dropping his voice. “Good thing I’m not a cat.”

You stared at him, torn between annoyance and the undeniable attraction of his presence. There was something irritatingly pleasant about the way he looked at you, like he was slowly peeling your layers as if you were an orange, trying to reveal a secret deep inside you.

“You don’t need to know my name,” you said finally, forcing your voice to stay steady.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. For a moment, the cocky grin slipped, replaced by something almost close to genuinity. “Fair enough,” he said quietly, surprising you.

But the moment passed quickly. His smirk returned, all sharp and confident. “But you know this isn’t the last time we’ll see each other, right?”

Your fingers tightened around your coffee cup. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Neither,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Just the truth.”

Your stomach twisted in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge. Teeth gritting, you answered. “If you’re done wasting my time, I’ve got places to be.”

He didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. “Hm. See you around then, mystery girl,” he replied with another cheeky smirk – the words somehow seeming to be more promising than needed.

You turned without another word, pushing the door open and stepping into the crisp morning air.

The street outside felt cooler than earlier, a sharp contrast to the heat that Rafe’s presence always seemed to stir. You walked briskly, your coffee in hand, trying to shake the strange sensation away.

But as you walked down the street, his words stayed with you, echoing in your mind.

This isn’t the last time we’ll see each other.

It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t a threat. It was just a fact.

And the worst part? You weren't entirely sure you hated the idea.

Back at the shop, Rafe watched you leave, the door swinging shut behind you with a faint chime. He turned back to the counter, his drink now ready, but he didn’t care about that for now.

He didn’t know why he was so intrigued. You didn’t seem like the other girls he usually spent time with – those who laughed too easily at his jokes and stuck around despite knowing better. Or the ones who listened too easily to what he asked them to do.

You were different.

Maybe it was the fire in your eyes or the way you never backed down even when he pushed. Or maybe it was something else entirely, something he couldn’t quite put into words.

Whatever it was, he knew one thing: this wasn’t going to be the last time he’d see you. All for some reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he didn’t want it to be. 

And he liked it.

NOTES. second day and chapter teww!!!! ngl i was not expecting much interactions but i am already sososo thankful for all the love it's been getting!! very very excited to share the constant yearning and tension (unresolved...??) between rafe and reader.. stay tuuuned

TAGS. @urbrunettebombshell @rafesfavouritegirl

[ultravioxence]

Clingy..

In the heart of UA High, where heroes were trained and friendships flourished, Bakugo Katsuki was known for his explosive personality. His intensity, both in battles and emotions, often left those around him bewildered. But beneath his brash exterior and the loud explosions of his Quirk lay a softer side—one that emerged when it came to you.

It started on a seemingly ordinary day. The sun hung high in the sky, casting playful shadows across the training grounds. You and Bakugo had just finished a grueling session of combat training, and while most students dispersed to socialize or head home, Bakugo lingered.

“Why are you still here?” he grunted, arms crossed, a frown etched on his face.

“I just wanted to cool down a bit before heading back,” you replied, wiping sweat from your brow. Bakugo rolled his eyes, but his gaze softened as he watched you. There was something about your calm demeanor that always drew him in.

As the days turned into weeks, you began to notice the subtle changes in Bakugo’s behavior. He would often wait for you after class, shooting glares at anyone who dared approach you. At first, you thought nothing of it—just classic Bakugo being overprotective. But as time went on, you realized that his clinginess was more pronounced than ever.

One afternoon, you decided to join your friends at a local café, excited to unwind after a challenging week. As you settled into a cozy corner with a cup of steaming coffee, Bakugo stormed in, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk. The moment his gaze landed on you, his expression darkened.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped, striding toward you with purpose.

“Just hanging out with friends,” you replied, motioning to the group. “Want to join us?”

The tension in the air thickened. Bakugo’s jaw clenched, and you could see the internal struggle brewing beneath the surface. “I don’t want to sit with them,” he grumbled, crossing his arms defiantly.

You raised an eyebrow. “And why not?”

“Because… because I don’t trust them!” he finally exclaimed, his voice raised slightly, causing a few nearby customers to glance over. “You don’t need them. You’ve got me.”

A soft smile crept onto your lips. His protectiveness, while overwhelming at times, was endearing. “I appreciate that, Bakugo, but I can handle myself. You know that.”

“Yeah, well…” His stubbornness flared to life, and he dropped into the seat next to you, keeping his glare focused ahead as if daring anyone to approach. The rest of your friends exchanged amused glances, clearly entertained by this unexpected display of possessiveness.

As the conversation flowed, Bakugo remained mostly silent, his presence like a storm cloud hovering over you, protective yet sulky. Noticing his attitude, you leaned closer, nudging him playfully. “You know it’s okay to let me have my space sometimes, right?”

He sighed, shoulders relaxing slightly. “I just… don’t want anyone else getting too close.” The admission hung in the air, and you felt a warmth rise within your chest. Underneath the tough exterior was a boy who cared deeply.

Days turned into weeks, and Bakugo’s clinginess became a familiar rhythm in your life. Whether it was walking you to class, insisting on sparring sessions even when you were tired, or simply waiting for you outside the dorms, his actions spoke volumes. He needed you close, and it was becoming harder to deny how much you cherished that.

One evening, as you both sat atop the roof of the dorms, the stars twinkling above, you initiated the conversation. “Bakugo, why do you feel the need to be so… clingy?”

He shifted slightly, his eyes on the horizon. “It’s not clingy. I just want to make sure you’re safe. You mean a lot to me, alright?” His honesty took you by surprise, and your heart raced at his words.

“Do you think I can’t take care of myself?” you asked gently.

“It’s not that,” he replied, glancing at you, his expression softening. “I know you can. I just… I just don’t want to lose you. I get worried.”

In that moment, everything clicked into place. Bakugo’s clinginess wasn’t merely possessiveness; it was born from a genuine fear of losing someone he deeply cared about. You reached out, resting a hand on his arm, grounding him. “You won’t lose me, Katsuki. I’m not going anywhere.”

He looked at you, vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you assured him.

[gingerrgen]

roommates?

roommate!ellie x f!reader

tw: suggestive

part2 !!

______________________

It's the end of the school year and the school decided to go to a camp for a few days, the rooms were randomly assigned.

The moment you stepped inside your room you locked eyes with Ellie, you knew who she was but never really talked to her.

For the next days you and her started to get to know each other better, flirting here and there.

__________________ time skip

This day we were going to the lake, the day prior we slept on her bed since we stayed up late playing "never have I ever", so you slept there. The moment you woke up you saw Ellie watching you with a lazy smile "Good morning sleepyhead", all you did was groan back at her comment, "Sounds like someone's not up yet", I stretch my bones "I'm awake now, but I wanna sleep more though...", "you could sleep longer", "nah, the counselor will kill us if we're not ready on time", Ellie laughs at your comment.

You and her got ready and headed to the cafeteria where a few students were eating. After quick breakfast you two headed to the lake, as you walk you spotted your best friend Sam, "I'll catch you soon, yeah?", she nods as she keeps walking searching for a spot for the both of you to enjoy the sunny day.

"Hey guys" you say to San and other friends sitting with him.

"You're here hanging out by the lake too?" Sam said surprised "Yeah, I'm with Ellie over there", "You're hanging out with Ellie? That's unexpected" said one of the guys there, "We're roommates" you explained

"So you've been getting along pretty well huh?" you nod at Sam's comment "she's funny" you answered "I must go now guys, have fun!!" you say before walking away.

You get to where Ellie was, a secret spot with small rays of sun going through the leaves. You sit beside her admiring the view, her voice snaps you out of your thoughts, "You're not overheating, are you?" she asks softly but you shake your head, "you should be careful since you have freckles" you said to her "they suit you though" you say looking at her face.

"I've always been a little self-conscious about them", "I think people that have freckles are perfect...you knew that?" you giggle softly. She stares at you for a couple seconds.

"Can I kiss you?" She asks placing her hand on your cheek, her actions made you blush a little, you nod at her request, her soft tender lips kissing yours, making your heart flutter and your cheeks warm, you pull away from the kiss a little dizzy watching her slightly red face.

"I want to try something you said yesterday while playing "never have I ever"", "What do you want to try?" she says looking at you.

"Skinny dipping"

She chuckles at your request "yeah I'm down"

_________________

a/n: PART2 ALREADY UP!

[deatheaterv]

THIS IS RIDICULOUS

pairing : slytherin!draco x gryffindor!reader

genre : fluff

warning : draco might be ooc

summary : “this is ridiculous,” he thought. why on earth would a slytherin fall for a gryffindor? a nasty, filthy human being. but guess what? he couldn’t resist the feeling.

draco malfoy finds himself in an unusual dilemma—he has feelings for you, a gryffindor, and it drives him crazy. to him, it’s ridiculous. why would someone like him, a slytherin, feel anything for someone like you? yet, despite his efforts to deny those emotions, he can’t stop stealing glances at you during meals or noticing every little thing you do.

during dinner in the great hall, blaise catches him staring at you, again.

“draco, seriously. what’s wrong with you?” blaise teases, his voice pulling draco out of his daydream. draco denies everything, insisting blaise is imagining things, but the blush on his cheeks betrays him. blaise doesn’t let it go, continuing to push draco until the latter storms off to avoid further embarrassment.

you, on the other hand, notice draco’s behavior but are unsure how to interpret it. you’ve caught him staring at you multiple times, and sometimes he looks flustered when you lock eyes, but his sharp tongue and sarcastic remarks don’t exactly scream “interest.” it leaves you confused and slightly annoyed.

one day, while walking through the halls, you overhear blaise teasing draco again.

“just admit it. you like y/n,” blaise says, his tone amused.

“no, i don’t,” draco snaps, though his voice lacks conviction. “i hate her, she’s disgusting. a filthy mudblood.”

the words sting more than they should. is that really how he feels about you? you decide to keep your distance, not wanting to deal with whatever complicated feelings he’s stirring in you.

but draco feels the change immediately. you stop meeting his eyes, no longer acknowledge his presence, and the space between you feels unbearable. it drives him mad. blaise notices his frustration and finally calls him out.

“you’re miserable because you messed up. go fix it.”

one evening, you’re sitting alone by the black lake, enjoying the quiet, when you hear footsteps behind you. turning around, you’re surprised to see draco. he looks nervous, hands stuffed in his pockets, and avoids your gaze.

“what do you want, malfoy?” you ask.

he hesitates, then blurts out, “i don’t hate you.”

you blink, caught off guard. “what?”

he sighs, sitting down next to you but leaving some space between you. “i said i don’t hate you. in fact, i think about you all the time. it’s… exhausting, really.”

you stare at him, unsure if you’re dreaming. “so, all those glares and rude comments…?”

“i was being an idiot,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “i didn’t know how to deal with… this. with you.”

you feel a smile tug at your lips. “you’re still an idiot, malfoy.”

he glances at you, a small smirk forming. “i’ll take that.”

before you can respond, he leans in just a little closer, his eyes searching yours. the space between you both feels electric, your breath catching in your throat. then, without another word, his lips gently press against yours in a soft, unexpected kiss. it’s brief, but enough to leave your heart racing, and when he pulls back, his smirk is replaced by a quiet, almost shy smile.

“guess that wasn’t so bad,” he murmurs.

you laugh softly, still a little stunned. “yeah, maybe not.”

from that moment, things change between you and draco. it starts with small gestures—sitting closer during meals, exchanging knowing glances, and even sneaking off to spend time together.

though he’s still draco—snarky and sarcastic—there’s a softer side to him that he only shows you. he surprises you with his wit, his charm, and his surprising vulnerability.

and for draco, being with you is both terrifying and exhilarating. you challenge him, make him question his beliefs, and bring out the best in him. for once, he feels like he doesn’t have to hide who he truly is.

as the months go by, the lines between slytherin and gryffindor blur, at least for the two of you. and while the rest of the school may raise their eyebrows at the unlikely pairing, neither of you care. after all, what’s life without a little risk?

[pdriesta]

CHAPTER EIGHT

“even when it’s bad, i love you”

pairing — trentxblack!girl

genre — angst, angst and more angst

word count — 7.7k

summary — y/n and trent's once strong relationship is strained by his growing distance and her unexpected pregnancy. as they clash over their future, y/n faces the painful choice of leaving behind the love and they love they worked so hard creating. will they overcome their struggles and rebuild their love, or will their fractured bond break beyond repair?

an — i am so sorry for disppearing! life is lifing but i've been sitting on the next two chapters and wanted to make sure it was perfect. i hope you enjoy!

masterlist

trent went still, his eyes widening as he processes her words. he blinks, a mix of surprise and elation washing over him, the weight of her declaration hanging in the air, thick with possibility.

trent gazed at y/n, the soft light of the room casting a warm glow on her features, and for a moment, he felt overwhelmed by the enormity of what was unfolding between them. he wasn’t sure if he would ever feel enough” for her—not the way she deserved. his heart raced with the weight of his insecurities, but as he watched her smile, something shifted within him. she had this remarkable ability to draw out the best parts of him, to make him believe that he could be more than he ever thought possible. her love wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, coaxing him to embrace his flaws and insecurities, teaching him to love himself in a way he never imagined he could. it was an incredible gift, one that left him feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated. trent knew that the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but with her by his side, he felt a flicker of hope—a belief that together they could face anything, and maybe, just maybe, he could finally be the man she believed him to be. 

he blinks, a mix of surprise and elation washing over him, the weight of her declaration hanging in the air, thick with possibility. he had dreamed of this moment for what felt like an eternity—hoping, wishing, longing for the day she would share his vision of a future together. and now, here she was, his beautiful partner, offering him everything he had ever wanted.

“wait— you’re serious?” he asks, disbelief lacing his tone. the breath catches in his throat, the gravity of her words washing over him like a wave, as if the world outside had faded away, leaving just the two of them suspended in this precious moment.

her gaze holds his, steady and sincere, and he feels a warmth bloom in his chest, a rush of emotions that makes his heart race. he’s been waiting for this for so long, and now that it’s finally happening, he struggles to wrap his mind around the reality of it. all the uncertainty, the doubts, the worries about whether they were ready for this next step—every fear he had ever harbored fades away, replaced by the overwhelming joy of her commitment.

“yeah,” she replies, her heart pounding in her chest as she leans in closer, urgency lacing her words. “i already spoke to my family and yours. they’re all on board, ready to come for a wedding.”

“really?” he breathes, the excitement flickering in his eyes. it was as if the whole world had shifted, tilting toward a bright new horizon.

“really,” she confirms, her smile widening. “it just feels right, trent. especially with the twins on the way. i don’t want to wait. i want to start our family as husband and wife.”

he looks at her, his brow furrowing slightly as a tinge of worry flashes across his face. “but what if you regret it?” the words tumble from him, heavy with concern. “this is a big decision, y/n. what if you wake up one day and think—”

“i won’t,” she interrupts softly, placing a gentle finger against his lips to hush his worries. “i’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. i love you, and i want to do this with you.”

with that, y/n shifts, sitting in his lap, the warmth of her body grounding him amidst the whirlwind of emotions. trent instinctively wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the rapid beat of her heart against his chest. he can’t help but gaze into her eyes, the sincerity in her gaze making it hard to doubt her.

“you’re sure?” he asks again, wanting to absorb every detail of this moment. “because once we do this… it’s forever.”

“i know,” she replies, her voice soft but resolute. “i’ve thought about this, trent. you’re my person. you always have been. we’ve already built so much together, and this just feels like the next step.”

as she sits in his lap, their bodies perfectly aligned, trent feels the heat radiating from her skin. he can't help but lightly nibble at her neck, playfully teasing her as he whispers, “sneaky girl, you’ve been planning this, haven’t you? you want to be my wife that bad?”

y/n giggles, her breath hitching as he kisses up her neck, each soft press of his lips igniting a warmth that spreads through her. “maybe,” she teases back, tilting her head slightly to give him better access, feeling utterly alive in this moment. 

“it’s a big leap, you know,” he murmurs against her skin, his voice low and filled with playful mischief. “are you really ready to take on all that responsibility? being married to me?”

“it’ll be an adventure, and i wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else,” she says, her voice barely a whisper, her heart racing as she feels the intoxicating thrill of their connection. “i mean, who else could handle my chaos?”

“oh, you’re chaotic, alright,” he chuckles, pulling back slightly to meet her gaze, the intensity of his affection evident in his eyes. “but that’s what makes you so special.”

“and you love it,” she challenges, raising an eyebrow as she leans closer, their noses almost touching. 

“i really do,” he admits, his voice softening. “more than anything.” 

the weight of her words settles between them, wrapping them in a cocoon of shared dreams and hopes. his heart swells with emotion, and he takes a moment to breathe her in, the scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her skin beneath his hands.

“so, when do we do this?” he asks, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “are we running off to vegas next?”

y/n laughs softly, her cheeks flushing with warmth. “not quite, but soon. i think we could still try to have a traditional wedding. a small ceremony, maybe just our family, and then we can plan something later down the line. i don’t want the stress of a big wedding right now.”

“that sounds perfect,” he replies, his voice filled with warmth. “but let’s be real; we’re going to need a proper party for everyone to celebrate. i want to shout from the rooftops that you’re mine.”

“oh, so you’re planning a big reception after, huh?” she teases, nudging him playfully.

“only the best for my wife,” he smirks, clearly pleased with the idea. “but we’ll figure it all out together.”

in that moment, as they sit wrapped in each other’s arms, the future no longer felt daunting but filled with potential. they were embarking on a new journey, one that would forever change their lives. they knew it wouldn’t always be easy, but as long as they had each other, everything would be alright.

y/n leaned back slightly, looking into trent's eyes with a playful glint. “so, what do you think? do you want to be my husband, trent alexander-arnold?”

he chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “i’m not sure if i’m ready for all that responsibility. i mean, i can barely take care of myself most days!”

“you’ll be fine,” she assured him, laughing at his playful demeanor. “besides, you’ll have me to keep you in line.”

“ah, so that’s your plan,” he grinned. “keep me in check and then boss me around with your new last name?”

“absolutely,” she teased, feeling the warmth of happiness radiate between them. “and you wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“i don’t think i would,” he murmured, pulling her closer again, their laughter fading into comfortable silence as they savored the moment. it was just the two of them, the promise of forever stretching out before them, the love between them deepening with each shared heartbeat.

“are you sure it’s not just because of the mind-blowing sex we just had?” he teases, a playful grin spreading across his face as he lightly nibbles at her neck, savoring the soft taste of her skin. “because, honestly, you might just be a little too caught up in the moment.” 

he pulls back slightly, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he gazes into hers, searching for a hint of doubt. “i mean, how could you resist wanting to be my wife after all this?” he adds with a wink, his voice dropping to a suggestive whisper that sends shivers down her spine. 

“oh please,” she replies, rolling her eyes playfully while trying to suppress a grin. “if anything, it just made me realize how much I want you by my side for everything—especially when our twins come into the world.” she leans in closer, a teasing sparkle in her eyes. “besides, can you blame me? being with you is nothing short of addictive.”

she shifts slightly in his lap, feeling the warmth radiating from his body, and brushes her fingers lightly against his jawline, savoring the intimacy of the moment. “this isn’t just a spur-of-the-moment decision. i’ve thought about it a lot. we’ve been through so much together, and i want to make it official. i want to be your wife, trent.”

her gaze locks onto his, sincere and unwavering. “this isn’t just about the amazing sex—though, let’s be real, it certainly doesn’t hurt,” she adds with a flirtatious smile, biting her lip as she continues. “it’s about you, me, and our family. i want us to be a team in every way possible.” 

as she speaks, she watches the emotions play across his face—surprise, joy, and a hint of disbelief. it’s as if she can see the wheels turning in his head, and the realization washes over her that they are standing on the brink of something monumental together.

the atmosphere is thick with flirtation, and his teasing only serves to heighten the tension between them, igniting the playful chemistry that had always defined their relationship. trent’s heart races not just from the adrenaline of their earlier passion but from the intoxicating thought of her wanting to share her life with him, forever.

the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the bedroom. y/n sat cross-legged on the bed, her back resting against trent’s chest as he held her close, his arms wrapped loosely around her growing bump. a thick bridal catalogue rested on her lap, its pages filled with designs, vendors, and inspiration she’d spent months curating long before her pregnancy.

she flipped through the pages slowly, her fingers tracing the edges of images and handwritten notes in the margins. her dream wedding had been meticulously planned—the florals, the color scheme, the seating arrangements. it was all there, every detail a testament to how much she’d wanted it to be perfect. but now, as she stared at the carefully crafted plans, a familiar doubt began to creep in.

“it’s a lot, isn’t it?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “all of this… it’s impossible now.”

trent tightened his hold around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. “what do you mean, impossible?” he asked, his voice warm and steady. “we’ve got this.”

she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “trent, look at it,” she said, gesturing toward the pages. “this isn’t something we can just throw together in a couple of weeks. i know i said i can't bear the stress of a big wedding roight now but i wanted everything to be perfect—this was supposed to be my dream wedding. but now, with the twins and the time crunch and everything else…” she trailed off, her words caught in the knot of emotion forming in her throat.

he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, his voice low and soothing. “baby, it’s still your dream wedding. just because things are different doesn’t mean it can’t be perfect.”

she tilted her head back slightly, glancing up at him with a doubtful expression. “how are we even going to pull this off? we don’t have time to book half of these vendors, and my dress—”

“stop,” he interrupted gently, turning her face toward his with a soft hand on her cheek. “let me worry about the logistics, yeah? all i need you to do is tell me what you want—what’s important to you—and i’ll take care of the rest.”

she bit her lip, her fingers idly flipping another page. “you make it sound so simple.”

“it is simple,” he said with a small smile, taking the catalogue from her hands and setting it aside. “this is about you, y/n. about us. i don’t care if we have to pull together every favor, every contact, or fly in every vendor. i’ll do whatever it takes to make this day what you dreamed of.”

her eyes softened as she looked at him, her hands coming to rest on top of his where they framed her bump. “you’re really going to take the book?” she teased, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

he grinned, reaching for the catalogue and holding it up like it was the key to a great mission. “consider it my blueprint,” he said. “i’ll even color-code it if i have to.”

she laughed softly, leaning back into his chest, her doubts momentarily quieted by his confidence. “what did i do to deserve you?”

trent kissed her temple, his voice filled with nothing but love. “more like what did i do to deserve you? just trust me, baby. your dream wedding’s gonna happen, and it’s going to be beautiful. i promise.”

as they sat there, surrounded by the remnants of her carefully laid plans, she felt a flicker of hope. trent’s unwavering determination made her believe, just for a moment, that maybe—just maybe—it would all come together.

the boutique had a cozy charm, its walls lined with soft blush and cream tones, creating a tranquil yet luxurious atmosphere. chandeliers cast a warm glow over racks of gowns that shimmered under the light, each one more beautiful than the last. the faint sound of classical music played in the background, soothing and elegant, as y/n walked in with her group.

her mom held her arm, squeezing it gently, while trent’s mom, dianne, followed close behind, her excitement palpable. malik strolled in with a teasing grin, his girlfriend, kiara, playfully nudging him to behave. but y/n’s focus was stolen the moment she spotted her best friend, imani, standing near the seating area, a wide smile on her face.

“imani!” y/n gasped, her voice trembling as tears sprang to her eyes. she closed the distance between them in seconds, pulling her friend into a tight embrace. 

“oh my god, y/n,” imani whispered, her voice cracking as she clung to her. “look at you. you’re glowing.”

y/n laughed through her tears, her hands gripping imani’s shoulders tightly. “i missed you so much. i can’t believe you’re here.”

“as if i’d miss this,” imani said, pulling back just enough to look at her properly, tears glistening in her own eyes. “trent wasn’t taking no for an answer. he wanted today to be perfect for you.”

those words brought a fresh wave of emotion, and y/n wiped at her face, overwhelmed. “he’s amazing. i just… i can’t believe he did this.”

“he loves you,” imani said simply, her gaze soft and knowing. “and honestly? i’ve never been prouder of you. you’ve been through so much, but look at where you are now. you and trent? you were always meant to be.”

y/n’s throat tightened, her heart swelling at the love in her friend’s words. she nodded, unable to speak, and hugged her again, savoring the moment.

“alright, alright,” malik interrupted, his tone teasing as he wiped at his own suspiciously glassy eyes. “are we here to cry or find my sister a dress?”

y/n laughed, sniffling as she turned to face him. “i don’t know, malik. you look like you’re about to cry more than anyone else.”

“me? never,” malik said, but his voice cracked just enough to betray him. kiara burst out laughing, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“he’s been holding it in since we got here,” kiara teased, earning an exaggerated eye roll from malik. 

“okay, lets give malik a break considering he’s already a mess,” y/n said with a smile, though her voice was still thick with emotion. “let’s get started.”

the consultant led them into a spacious fitting room, the plush couch and elegant decor setting the stage. the group settled in, their energy a mix of excitement and anticipation. y/n’s mom and dianne were already exchanging whispers about their predictions for the perfect dress, while imani sat forward, her eyes sparkling with eagerness.

the first dress was lovely but didn’t feel like her. the second was closer, but still, something was missing. when she stepped into the third dress, a soft gasp escaped her lips as she looked at herself in the mirror. 

the dress was nothing like her original dream gown, yet it felt perfect. the lace detailing hugged her growing bump gracefully, the fabric flowing like water around her. it was elegant, timeless, and felt like it had been made just for this moment.

she hesitated before stepping out, nervous about their reactions. but the moment she did, the room went completely silent. 

her mom’s hand flew to her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks. dianne let out a quiet “oh my goodness,” already dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. malik’s jaw dropped, and he quickly looked away, rubbing at his eyes. kiara leaned against him, her own smile watery. 

and then there was imani, who stood up slowly, her hands covering her mouth as she whispered, “y/n… you’re stunning.”

the weight of their reactions hit her like a tidal wave. tears spilled over as she turned fully to face them. “do you really think so?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“think so?” malik choked out, his voice unsteady. “sis, you look perfect. if trent doesn’t cry when he sees you, i’ll personally—” 

“he’s already cried,” dianne interjected with a knowing laugh, cutting him off. 

“malik, stop,” y/n said, though she couldn’t stop her laugh, even as tears streamed down her face.

her mom stepped forward, cupping her face gently. “you’re beautiful, my love,” she said softly. “trent’s going to be speechless.”

the mention of trent brought a fresh wave of emotion. “can i borrow someone’s phone?” she asked, her voice cracking. imani handed her phone over immediately, and y/n quickly facetime’d trent. 

“hey, baby,” he greeted with a warm smile, though his expression quickly turned concerned when he saw her tear-streaked face. “what’s wrong? are you okay?”

she shook her head quickly, wiping at her eyes. “i’m okay,” she assured him, her voice trembling. “i just… i love you so much. i can’t wait to marry you.”

trent’s smile softened, and his eyes glistened as he leaned closer to the camera. “you’re trying to make me cry, aren’t you?” he teased gently.

she laughed, sniffling as she looked down. “maybe a little,” she admitted.

“whatever you’re wearing, i know you look stunning,” he said, his voice full of affection. “i can’t wait to see you walk down that aisle.”

her tears flowed freely now, the love in his words overwhelming her. “you’re going to love it,” she promised softly.

“i already love you, and that’s all that matters,” he replied.

the call ended with both of them a little teary-eyed, and y/n handed the phone back to imani with a grateful smile. turning back to the group, she found herself overwhelmed by the love and support surrounding her.

“this is it,” her mom said, nodding toward the dress. “this is the one.”

and for the first time in weeks, y/n felt the same.

the morning began quietly, the soft light of dawn spilling into the spacious bedroom. trent moved carefully, not wanting to disturb y/n as she slept curled on her side, her hands instinctively cradling her growing belly. he leaned down, pressing a featherlight kiss to her temple, his lips lingering as he whispered, “i’ll be back soon, baby. i love you”

y/n stirred faintly, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks but not fully waking. trent smiled to himself, brushing a stray braid from her face before grabbing his bag and heading out for the day. today’s errands were important—coordinating with vendors, finalizing the details for their wedding. it was all coming together, and while the weight of responsibility hung heavily on his shoulders, he was determined to make everything perfect for her.

when he returned hours later, the house was warm with the soft hum of laughter. trent paused at the doorway, his gaze landing on y/n and imani lounging on the couch, bridal magazines scattered around them. y/n’s head tilted back as she laughed, her cheeks glowing with happiness. the sight eased the tightness in his chest, reminding him why all the effort was worth it.

trent crouched down beside y/n, his warm hand resting on her belly as he asked softly, “you’ve been good while i’ve been out?”  

y/n tilted her head, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “you know i love when you boss me around,” she teased, her voice full of mischief.  

trent raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. “is that right?” his lips brushed her neck, leaving a soft kiss that sent shivers through her.  

but just as quickly as it started, he pulled back, leaving y/n pouting dramatically. “that’s it? just one little kiss? what a tease,” she whined, crossing her arms.  

imani laughed from the other side of the couch, flipping a page in the bridal magazine she’d been perusing. “y/n, you’re the definition of insatiable. give the man a break—he’s already out here planning the wedding of the century and keeping you in line.”  

y/n stuck her tongue out at her friend. “says the woman who’s been married for a year now and still blushes when her husband calls her ‘jagi.’”  

trent’s brows shot up in curiosity, glancing between the two women. “wait, that’s what dohyun calls you? what does it mean?”  

imani blushed, waving him off. “mind your business. just know it’s cute, and we’re happy.”  

y/n grinned, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her mug. “i still can’t believe you got hitched so quickly after moving. i mean, it broke my heart when you made the move permanent, but seeing you this happy? it’s worth it.”  

“don’t get all sentimental on me now,” imani teased, though her eyes softened. “besides, you’re the one with the twins on the way. Wwy are you out to get me next?”  

y/n smirked. “oh, i don’t know. I can’t wait for you and dohyun to have a kid. the twins could use some cousins.”  

imani laughed, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “oh, don’t put that on me just because you got knocked up! my students are my kids, thank you very much.” she paused, grinning wickedly. “or maybe i’ll just steal one of yours.”  

trent, who had been listening with an amused expression, shrugged dramatically. “honestly, i might let you. twins are a lot of work.”  

y/n gasped, swatting his arm. “traitor!”  

imani cackled, leaning back against the couch. “see? even trent’s on my side.”  

the conversation turned as imani’s mischievous gaze settled on y/n. “but really, let’s talk about your brother. malik’s been with kiara since they were what? fifteen? and he still hasn’t put a ring on her finger?”  

y/n laughed, shaking her head. “i know, right? they’re practically married already. but i’m not about to tell them to have kids. my parents barely survived the shock of me being pregnant out of wedlock. they’d keel over if malik tried the same.”  

imani smirked. “well, someone’s gotta carry the family legacy. maybe i should talk to kiara instead. she’s probably already got baby names picked out.”  

trent chuckled, his hand finding y/n’s and giving it a squeeze. “you really think your parents would freak out that much?”  

y/n grinned. “let’s just say i’d rather not test the waters.”  

as the laughter settled, trent found himself leaning back, content just to watch y/n and imani interact. their banter, the easy flow of their friendship—it was one of the many things he adored about y/n. she was in her element, surrounded by love and laughter, and it was impossible not to feel at ease in her presence.  

imani eventually stood, stretching. “alright, i should go call dohyun. it’s going to be a long one,” she added suggestively, winking at y/n.  

“gross,” y/n teased, scrunching her nose. “keep it PG, please.”  

“you started it with all the innuendos,” imani shot back, grabbing her phone and heading toward the guest room.  

as the house quieted, trent shifted closer to y/n, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his chest. she melted into him, resting her head against his shoulder with a sigh.  

“you okay?” he asked softly, pressing a kiss to her temple.  

“better than okay,” she murmured, her voice full of affection. “i’m perfect right here.”  

trent smiled, his hand trailing gently over her arm. “you’re all i need, you know that?”  

y/n tilted her head up, her lips brushing his jaw. “and you’re everything to me.”  

they stayed like that, tangled together on the couch, as the warmth of their love wrapped around them like a blanket.  

as they settled deeper into the quiet comfort of the moment, y/n’s voice broke the silence, soft and laced with gratitude. “thank you for bringing imani here, trent. it’s been so good having her around.”  

trent smiled, his hand gently stroking her arm. “you don’t have to thank me for that, love. i knew you’d need her, especially with everything going on. and she’s family to us now.”  

y/n’s eyelids grew heavier, but she forced herself to stay awake just a little longer. “it gets a bit lonely sometimes... when you’re away,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “this big house... it can feel so empty without you.”  

trent’s arms tightened around her, pulling her closer as his heart ached at her words. “i hate being away from you,” he said softly, his voice carrying a mix of regret and love. “but i’m here now, and soon, the babies will be here too. we’ll fill this house with so much love, y/n. i promise.”  

she smiled against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling her closer to sleep. “being in your arms like this… it makes it all better,” she murmured. “and knowing we’ve got our little ones on the way... it’s everything i’ve ever wanted.”  

trent leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “you’ll never have to feel alone, baby. not as long as i’m here. this is just the beginning for us.”  

her breathing slowed, and trent could tell she was drifting off. he stayed still, holding her as her soft words lingered in the air, a quiet promise of the life they were building together.

the soft glow of the bedside lamp bathed the room in a golden hue, catching the sheen of y/n’s oiled skin as she moved, her silk robe barely tied at the waist. it clung loosely to her, teasing glimpses of the curves that had only grown softer and more pronounced with her pregnancy. she stood by the mirror, her hands smoothing the vanilla-scented oil over her belly with tender care. 

trent leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, fresh from the shower, beads of water still clinging to his curls. his gaze was locked on her, dark and unwavering, the smirk on his lips betraying the thoughts racing through his mind. 

“you’re killing me, you know that?” his voice was low, edged with that teasing rasp that always made her stomach flip. 

y/n glanced at him through the mirror, raising an eyebrow. “killing you? i’m just moisturizing.”  

“exactly,” he muttered, pushing off the doorframe and closing the distance between them in a few easy strides. he stood behind her, his hands lightly resting on her hips as his eyes met hers in the mirror. “you’re standing here, looking like that, and you expect me to behave?”  

she rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “trent, we’re a week away from the wedding. maybe we should try to follow some traditions, like… i don’t know, abstaining?”  

he blinked, his expression shifting to exaggerated disbelief as he spun her around to face him. “abstaining?” he repeated, his hands sliding to her waist. “you’re seven months pregnant with twins, y/n. i think that ship sailed a long time ago.”  

her laugh was soft, her fingers playfully pushing at his chest. “you know what i mean. we’ve done everything out of order. maybe we should try to get something right.”  

“we are getting something right,” he said, his tone dropping, his hands slipping under the loose folds of her robe to caress her bare skin. “we’re getting married. and you’re having my babies. i don’t need anything else.”  

her breath hitched as his fingers skimmed the curve of her belly, the heat of his touch making her heartbeat quicken. “trent…”  

“hmm?” he murmured, leaning down to press his lips against her neck, the kisses slow and deliberate, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. “you’re saying all these words, but you’re not stopping me.”  

she tried to reply, but her voice faltered as he found that spot on her neck that always made her knees weak. his lips lingered there, his tongue teasing against her skin before he nipped gently, pulling a soft gasp from her lips.  

“baby…” she tried again, her hands instinctively clutching at his shoulders for support.  

“what?” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at her, his dark eyes full of mischief and something deeper. “you want me to stop?”  

her silence was answer enough. he smirked, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. it was heated, desperate, as though he was trying to pour every unspoken word into the way his mouth moved against hers.  

her fingers tangled in his damp curls, pulling him closer as the robe slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. his hands roamed her body, reverent and greedy all at once, tracing every curve and dip with an intimacy that made her breath catch.  

“you’re impossible,” she whispered against his lips, though there was no heat in her words, only a soft laugh that turned into a quiet moan as he kissed her again, deeper this time.  

“and you love it,” he replied, his voice low, his hands anchoring her hips against him. “you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger, and you know it.”  

“you’re ridiculous,” she murmured, but her smile betrayed her as she tilted her head, letting him trail kisses down her jaw, her neck, and lower.  

he chuckled, his lips brushing against her collarbone. “ridiculous about you,” he said, the words melting into her skin.  

they stayed there, wrapped in each other, the teasing forgotten as the kisses grew slower, deeper, each one a reminder of the love they’d built and the life they were about to step into together.

the night before the wedding was a magical blend of celebration and relaxation, a testament to how loved y/n was by everyone around her. the living room of her home had been transformed into a haven of cozy, feminine charm. soft fairy lights twinkled along the walls, fresh white roses and peonies adorned the tables, and a makeshift popcorn bar sat on the kitchen counter, stocked with every topping imaginable. gold and blush balloons with “bride-to-be” written on them floated in the corners, and a towering display of cupcakes and cookies added a sweet touch to the festivities.

imani, ever the thoughtful best friend, had planned everything to perfection. the women in y/n’s life—her mom, trent’s mom, imani, kiara, trent’s sister-in-law, olivia and even baby aura—gathered to celebrate her last night as a “miss.” imani had even arranged for matching silk pajamas embroidered with their names, with “bride” proudly displayed on y/n’s. baby aura waddled around in her own little set, earning coos from everyone as she toddled between laps.

the group started the night with a few lighthearted games. there was a trivia quiz about y/n and trent’s relationship, with kiara winning the prize for remembering the exact date trent had proposed. “malik would forge, but i’ll never forget that call. my girl is gonna be a wife,” she teased, earning a laugh from y/n.

then came the movie marathon, a curated lineup of romantic comedies y/n had loved since she was a teenager. they piled onto the couches and plush rugs, snacking on popcorn and sipping mocktails as laughter and chatter filled the room. imani had even created a “photo booth” corner with props, where the group took silly pictures.

as the night wore on, y/n found herself nestled comfortably on the couch, her belly snug under a soft blanket. her mom sat beside her, stroking her hair, while trent’s mom chatted animatedly with kiara about the wedding preparations. imani, meanwhile, was trying to coax baby aura into saying “bride,” much to everyone’s amusement.

“this is perfect,” y/n murmured, glancing around at her friends and family.

imani leaned over, grinning. “just wait until tomorrow. this is nothing compared to what’s coming.”

the next morning, y/n woke up to the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of soft giggles. opening her eyes, she found her bedroom door slightly ajar, the glow of daylight streaming through.

when she stepped out, the sight before her made her heart swell. the entire downstairs had been decorated overnight, with more flowers, streamers, and a banner that read, “it’s your big day, y/n!” imani stood by the counter, pouring coffee into matching mugs while kiara helped set out a breakfast spread of croissants, fruit, and pastries.

“finally! the bride is awake!” imani announced, rushing over to hug her.

y/n laughed, holding onto her best friend. “imani, you outdid yourself. this is incredible.”

“anything for my best girl,” imani said, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

the morning passed in a blur of love and laughter. the group donned matching robes for their getting-ready session, each embroidered with their roles—“bride,” “matron of honor,” and so on. baby aura had her own tiny robe, which she proudly showed off by waddling in circles.

“you know she’s stealing the show tomorrow, right?” kiara teased as she adjusted y/n’s robe.

“if anyone’s allowed to, it’s her,” y/n replied, grinning.

as they got their hair and makeup done, y/n found herself tearing up more than once. her mom gave a toast, sharing stories of y/n’s childhood and how proud she was of the woman she’d become. trent’s mom chimed in, speaking about how much her son adored y/n and how excited their family was to officially welcome her in.

“don’t you dare ruin your makeup,” imani warned, dabbing at y/n’s tears.

“too late,” y/n sniffled, laughing through her emotions.

by mid-afternoon, the group had transitioned to a more relaxed vibe. kiara and y/n’s mom reminisced about old family vacations, while imani chased baby aura around the living room. y/n found herself sitting on the couch, her belly gently cradled in her hands, overwhelmed with gratitude.

“this is one of the happiest days of my life,” she said softly to imani, who sat beside her.

“and tomorrow will top it,” imani promised, handing her a plate of strawberries.

as the evening rolled around, y/n’s nerves began to kick in. she found herself pacing her bedroom, her phone in hand. she knew trent was at tyler’s house with his groomsmen—malik, tyler, robbo, dom, and a few others. they’d upheld the tradition of keeping the bride and groom apart the night before, but the longing to hear his voice was too much.

she tapped his name, and he answered on the first ring.

“hi, love,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. “how’s my bride-to-be?”

“missing you,” y/n admitted, sitting on the edge of her bed.

trent chuckled. “i miss you more. but hey, it’s tradition, right? makes tomorrow even more special.”

“that’s what everyone keeps saying,” she teased, twirling a strand of her hair. “but right now, i just want to hear your voice.”

“you can do more than that,” he coaxed. “open facetime. come on, baby, just for a second.”

y/n hesitated but eventually gave in. when his face appeared on her screen, her heart fluttered.

“you look beautiful,” he said softly, taking in her bare face and relaxed smile.

“i’m in pajamas, trent,” she laughed.

“doesn’t matter. you’re still the most beautiful woman in the world.”

they talked quietly, sharing details of their days and their excitement for what was to come. trent’s groomsmen occasionally shouted playful comments in the background, making y/n laugh.

“how am i supposed to sleep without you?” y/n whispered, her voice soft and almost shy as she traced patterns on her duvet. her face glowed faintly from the soft lighting of her room, but the longing in her eyes was undeniable.

trent leaned closer to the camera, his expression tender. “just close your eyes, my love,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “tonight is the last night you’ll ever have to fall asleep without me beside you. tomorrow, you’ll wake up, walk down that aisle, and we’ll be married. nothing will keep us apart after that—not ever.”

her lips curled into a faint smile, though her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “you make it sound so easy.”

“because it is,” trent replied earnestly. “all you have to do is close your eyes and think about us—our life together, our babies, our future. think about how, from tomorrow on, every night, i’ll be holding you. this house won’t feel so empty because we’ll fill it with laughter and love, and you’ll never have to fall asleep alone again.”

she bit her lip, warmth spreading through her chest at his words. “you always know what to say.”

trent chuckled softly, shaking his head. “it’s not hard when it’s the truth.”

she sighed, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before she opened them again, not ready to let go just yet. “i love you so much, trent. more than i can put into words.”

“and i love you more,” he said, his gaze steady and full of adoration. “now, sleep, my love. dream about us, about tomorrow. when you open your eyes next, you’ll be on your way to becoming mrs. alexander-arnold.”

his words wrapped around her like a warm embrace, and for the first time that night, she felt at peace. “goodnight, trent,” she whispered, her voice tender.

“goodnight, baby. i’ll see you at the altar.”

as the call ended, y/n placed her phone on the nightstand, a serene smile on her face. the room felt a little less empty, her heart a little fuller. she curled up in her bed, clutching the thought of trent’s promise to her chest, and let herself drift into a peaceful sleep filled with dreams of forever.

the soft morning light filtered into the room, casting a golden glow across y/n as she stood before the mirror, her hands resting gently on her belly. the quiet hum of the house preparing for the day’s celebrations barely registered as she took in her reflection. her wedding dress hung on the back of the door, pristine and waiting for her, but y/n couldn’t stop staring at the image in front of her. this was the moment she’d dreamed of, and it was finally here.

she took a deep breath, her hand lightly tracing her growing bump. “we’re almost there, my loves,” she whispered softly, her voice thick with emotion. “you and your daddy are going to make this day even more special.”

her robe, lace and silk, felt soft against her skin as she prepared herself. she kept talking to her babies, almost as if she needed the reassurance herself that everything was about to change in the best possible way.

there was a soft knock on the door, and imani stepped in, holding an envelope in her hand. “here, this one’s from trent,” she said, handing it over with a smile.

y/n carefully opened the envelope, recognizing trent’s handwriting immediately.

my beautiful girl,

the day is finally here. i can’t wait to see you, to call you my wife. i’m so proud of you, proud of everything you’ve done, of the woman you’ve become. i love you more than words can say, and i can’t wait to be with you, forever.

with all my love, your future husband.

y/n’s eyes stung with tears, and she let out a shaky breath, wiping the tears away as she smiled at the note. she was already overwhelmed, but it was impossible to hold back the tears today.

imani grinned, wiping a tear from y/n’s cheek. “girl, you’re making me emotional too.”

y/n chuckled softly, tucking the note into her robe as imani wrapped her arm around her. “he’s going to make me cry all day, isn’t he?”

imani nodded with a wink. “yup, get used to it.”

the morning unfolded in a whirlwind of activity. y/n's house was filled with the laughter and chatter of her bridal party and her family. everyone was busy with last-minute preparations, but y/n found solace in the small moments. a soft kiss on her cheek from her mom as she checked in. little aura running around, too excited to sit still.

as the day went on, aura handed y/n another envelope from trent. y/n smiled at the sight of the familiar handwriting.

my love,

i can’t wait to hold you today, to call you mine forever. i’m counting down the minutes, the seconds, until i get to see you walking toward me at the altar. just know that i love you, and i’ll be waiting, always.

with all my heart, trent.

y/n’s heart fluttered as she looked at the note, feeling more loved than ever.

“thank you, aura,” she whispered, brushing a kiss on the little girl’s head before reading the note again, already getting teary-eyed once more.

later, as the time to get into her dress finally arrived, y/n stood before her mirror, her heart pounding with anticipation. the gown fit perfectly, hugging her curves while gracefully flowing to the floor. she took one last glance at her reflection, her heart racing.

the door creaked open, and y/n’s mother stepped inside first, her hand covering her mouth as her eyes landed on her daughter. for a moment, she didn’t say anything, her breath hitching as she took in the sight before her. y/n stood in the center of the room, radiant in her gown, a vision of grace and beauty. the delicate lace hugged her figure perfectly, the soft train pooling at her feet. her veil cascaded over her shoulders like a whisper, framing her glowing face.

“oh, my baby,” her mother whispered, her voice thick with emotion. her hand trembled as she brought it to her chest, her tears falling freely now.

y/n’s lips wobbled as she tried to hold herself together. “mama,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of years of love, shared moments, and the comfort only a mother can bring.

“you’re beautiful,” her mother said, stepping closer, her eyes scanning every detail of her daughter. “so, so beautiful.”

“thank you,” y/n whispered, her throat tightening as she fought the tears threatening to spill. “mama, don’t start. you’re going to make me cry.”

before her mother could reply, the door opened wider, and her father walked in. his footsteps faltered, his gaze locking on y/n. his usually steady composure crumbled in an instant.

“oh, god,” he muttered, blinking rapidly as his eyes glistened. “that’s my baby girl.”

y/n let out a soft laugh, though her voice wavered. “daddy, don’t you start, too.”

her father ignored her teasing, stepping forward. he stopped just shy of her, his hands shaking slightly as he reached out to touch her arms. “y/n, you... you look...” he paused, his voice cracking. “you look beautiful, sweetheart.”

her mother moved to her side, placing a gentle hand on y/n’s back. together, the two of them gazed at their daughter as though she were the most precious thing in the world.

“we’ve imagined this day for so long,” her mother said, wiping at her cheeks with a tissue. “but nothing could’ve prepared us for how perfect you’d look.”

y/n’s laughter bubbled out, light and airy, an attempt to ease the heavy emotions threatening to overwhelm the room. “you two are going to ruin my makeup before i even get to the aisle!”

her father chuckled through his tears, pulling her into a careful hug. “it’s a father’s right to cry when his baby girl gets married,” he murmured.

when he stepped back, he took both of her hands in his, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity she’d only ever seen when he was truly moved. “y/n, i’ve watched you grow into this incredible woman—strong, kind, and full of love. and when you came to us all those months ago, unsure, scared... i knew in my heart that you and trent would find your way. i’ve seen the way he loves you. his love for you is written all over his face, in every action, in every word.”

her lip trembled as she nodded, unable to speak.

“you two were meant for each other,” her father continued. “your souls are one. and these little ones you’re carrying,” he added, his eyes flickering to her belly, “are proof of that love. they’re proof that no matter the trials, no matter the doubts, love always wins.”

y/n’s tears spilled over now, and she hastily wiped at them, laughing through the sobs. “you’re going to make me ruin my makeup!”

her mother chuckled, stepping in to embrace her. “oh, sweetheart. you’ve always been our joy, and today, you’re our pride.”

her father placed a hand on her shoulder as her mother pulled away, both of them gazing at her like she was their whole world.

“thank you,” y/n whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “thank you both for everything.”

her father kissed her cheek, his voice a little unsteady. “let’s go make you a wife, princess.”

before they turned to leave, y/n paused, placing her hands on her belly. her parents watched as she whispered softly, her voice tender and full of promise. “we’re almost there, my loves. your daddy’s waiting for us. and tomorrow, we’ll all be together, forever.”

her mother squeezed her arm, her eyes shimmering with love, while her father exhaled deeply, his shoulders squared as if anchoring himself in the moment.

and when imani’s voice called softly from the door, letting them know it was time, y/n nodded. her father offered his arm, her mother smoothing the veil one last time.

“ready, princess?” her father asked.

y/n met their eyes, her heart swelling with gratitude and love. “i’ve never been more ready.”

and with that, they walked out together, the day she’d dreamed of finally unfolding before her.

© PDRIESTA 2024

[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!

[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.

[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!

[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

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Sex on the Beach

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Suncream...cum, is there a difference? Bucky is painting you either way.

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: bratty reader with Bucky doing his best at taming, teasing, oral sex (m), bucky fucking your tits, p in v sex, sarge/good girl kink, fingering, creampie, Bucky getting his own back at the end.

A/N: Thank you Daisy @firefly-graphics for this banner!

As Bucky sprawled out across the plush double sun lounger, his chiseled physique on full display in nothing but a pair of well-fitted swim trunks, he exuded an air of pure tranquility. The Ray-ban sunglasses you had thoughtfully gifted him just before the trip now shielded his eyes from the late morning sun's gentle rays, which danced across his lightly tanned skin. Every muscle in his body was completely relaxed, not a hint of tension to be found, as he teetered on the edge of drifting off into a blissful morning nap.

The lounger was situated on the expansive deck of Tony's luxurious Hamptons beach house, mere steps away from the glistening, azure waters of the pool and the endless horizon of the ocean beyond. The expertly positioned fencing surrounding the property offered the two of you a welcome sense of privacy, shielding you from prying eyes while still allowing the soothing sounds of the waves crashing against the nearby shoreline to reach your ears.

When you had first packed for the weekend getaway, the weather forecast had called for nothing but rain and stormy conditions, and you had almost left your vibrant yellow bikini behind, certain that there would be no opportunity to don it. However, Bucky had insisted that you bring it along, and now you were endlessly grateful that you had heeded his advice, eagerly anticipating the chance to join him in soaking up the unexpected sunshine.

As you emerged from the pool, the cool, refreshing water droplets glistening on your skin, you couldn't help but marvel at the unseasonably warm weather. The sun's golden rays felt almost soothing against your unclad flesh, a stark contrast to the chill of the pool you had just left. With a towel wrapped snugly around your waist, you cast a playful, impish glance over at Bucky, who hadn't moved from his reclined position on the nearby lounge chair, sunglasses perched on his nose. A mischievous smirk crept across your lips as you bent down and scooped up a handful of the chlorinated pool water, your fingertips lightly skimming the surface. Carefully, you tiptoed over to where Bucky lay, the water sloshing gently in your cupped palms. 

Though his eyes were shielded by dark lenses, you knew Bucky's heightened senses were ever alert, a byproduct of his turbulent past living in fear - whether under HYDRA's control or on the run. Sure enough, as you neared him, one of Bucky's eyes snapped open, his body instantly tensing, ready to spring into action at the first sign of perceived danger. But when he saw it was merely you, a playful glint in your eye and a splash of water in your hands, his posture relaxed, and he sat up, the sunglasses sliding down his nose as he fixed you with a playful glare, silently daring you to make your move.

“Whatcha doin’ there, doll?”

You flicked the remaining water droplets in your hand at him but they barely reached his bare chest.

“That the best you got?” he taunted, his piercing gaze daring you to try again.

“Not even close,” you replied with a mischievous grin, letting the towel slip just slightly as you pretended to consider your next move.

Bucky raised a single, dark eyebrow, his playful glare still firmly in place. “You think you can just come at me with that pathetic splash? I’d be ashamed if I were you,” he goaded, his deep, rumbling voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Unable to resist the challenge, you let out a bright, carefree laugh that seemed to dance in the air around you. “Oh really? Is that a challenge, Barnes?” you retorted, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you prepared to retaliate, the tension between you electric.

“Depends on what your idea of a challenge is. Because if it involves getting me wet, you might just succeed.” He smirked, leaning back slightly as if preparing for something.

You laughed, sitting down beside him, letting your wet skin rub against his as you rubbed the towel along your arms. “Do my sunscreen?” you asked, looking over your shoulder at him and batting your eyelids coquettishly.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he shuffled closer. “Sunscreen, huh? You sure that's all you need me for?” he asked huskily.

He was halfway through a playful eye roll when your hands moved to the back of your neck, swiftly undoing the halterneck string of your bikini top to reveal your soft breasts. “Don’t want to risk getting tan lines,” you smirked at his widening eyes.

“Of course not,” he mumbled, shaking his head at your antics.

“So you gonna help me or not?”

“Get over here.” He wrapped his arm around your waist and hoisted you into his lap. With his flesh arm he flicked open the bottle of sunscreen, making the same popping sound that you associated with him opening a bottle of lube and you felt a shiver through your body, your skin erupting in goosebumps.

Bucky noticed immediately, there wasn’t anything he missed when it came to your body’s responses. “Cold?” he smirked.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as Bucky pulled you closer, his chest pressed flush against your back, his breath tickling the nape of your neck. Despite the warm fall air, a shiver of anticipation still rippled down your spine at the feel of his body against yours.

“N-No,” you breathed out, your voice a breathless whisper. “Just a bit… sensitive.”

Bucky's eyes darkened further, a wicked smirk playing on his lips as he felt your shiver and heard the huskiness in your voice. He knew the effect he had on you, and he loved it.

He leaned in, his voice low and deep, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke. "Sensitive, hmm?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. One of his hands drifted downwards, tracing a slow, tortuous path along your bare hip.

"Mmm, don't forget the front," you moaned.

Bucky's smirk grew even more wicked at the sound of your moan, his chest rumbling with a low, appreciative growl. He shifted you in his lap so that you were straddling him, your legs on either side of his hips, giving him full access to your front.

He leaned back, the sunlight casting a glow around his head like a halo, his eyes roving hungrily over your body, taking in every inch of bare skin.

"Are you just going to sit and stare? Or you want me to get burned?”

Bucky chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he met your gaze, his hands still resting on your hips.

"Patience, doll. I'm just admiring the view," he teased, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your hips, sending prickling shivers through your body.

Slowly, he began to apply the sunscreen on your torso, his hands moving in sensual, deliberate circles, covering every inch of your skin in the creamy liquid.

Bucky's hands slowed as they reached the curves of your breasts, his palms hovering mere inches away, as if reluctant to touch them just yet. His eyes locked onto yours, his gaze dark and hungry. He swallowed hard, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale.

"You don't know how hard it is to keep my hands off you, doll," he murmured, his voice gruff, his hands slowly moving closer, his thumbs just barely brushing against the swell of your tits.

You leaned forward so your hardened nipples grazed his chest. "Who said you had to?”

Bucky's breath hitched at the feel of your nipples gliding across his chest, a low, guttural moan rumbled in his throat. He shifted his hips, his growing hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his swim trunks.

"Mmm, doll. You're a damn tease, you know that?" he panted, his fingers digging into your hips, his thumbs still brushing against your sensitive skin, teasing but not quite touching where you wanted.

"Who's teasing?" You asked innocently, pushing your ass down into the growing bulge in his trunks.

Bucky's eyes darkened, his expression shifting from playful to downright feral, the veins in his arms bulging as his muscles tensed. He let out a growl, his voice deep and strained.

"Oh, you're playing with fire now doll," he warned, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his body quivering with barely restrained desire. He bit his lip, trying to hold back, but it was taking all his willpower not to throw you down onto the lounger and take you right then and there.

"The only fire I'm feeling right now is that giant ball in the sky that's unevenly tanning my boobs right now," you pouted.

Bucky let out another soft growl.

"Aww, did I make you mad?" You put on a baby voice.

Bucky huffed out a sardonic laugh, his fingers absently tracing patterns on your hip. He was far too distracted by the feel of your body on top of his to be truly angry.

"Mad? Nah, doll. Just struggling to control myself with you being so damn frisky right now." He raised an eyebrow, his eyes locking onto yours, the heat in his gaze undeniable. "Question is, what’re you gonna do about it?”

"Want me to kiss it better?" You leaned forward with pouty lips.

Bucky's eyes darkened at the sight of your pouting lips, his resolve slowly crumbling. This teasing game you were playing was getting torturous, but damn if he wasn't loving it. He reached up, his hand cupping your chin, his thumb tracing along your lower lip.

"Mmm, I think I might need a little more than just a kiss, doll. You're being a brat and you know it.”

"Ask nicely.”

Bucky bit his lip, his breathing growing heavier as your defiance only seemed to fuel his desire. His hand threaded through your hair, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches apart.

"Please, doll," he said huskily, his voice low and thick with lust. "Stop being such a damn tease and let me have you.”

"Only if you're good, Sarge." You bit your lip seductively.

Bucky's breath hitched at the sound of the nickname, a low moan rumbling in his chest. You knew how much he loved it when you called him that, and the effect it had on him was always immediate.

"Doll, you know damn well I'm always good," he said huskily, his eyes locked on your lips as you bit them seductively, his hand in your hair gently pulling your head back, exposing your neck. "But today, you're going to need to follow my orders.”

Your walls fluttered with excitement at his words and you bit back a moan.

Bucky smirked at the reaction he saw in your eyes, his gaze raking over your body possessively. He could see the effect his words had on you, and it only made him more possessive. He knew your weakness, just like you knew his.

"So obedient," he murmured, his mouth hovering over your neck, his lips just barely grazing your skin. "But I want to hear you say it. What’s the safe word?”

You whined against his ear, wiggling your ass in his lap. "Oklahoma.”

Bucky let out a harsh breath, his eyes fluttering closed for just a second as your body moved against his in his lap. He took a moment to collect himself before opening his eyes, a smug look on his face as he looked at you.

"Good girl," he praised, his lips finally claiming your neck, his mouth hot against your skin. "Now, why don't you get on your knees and show me how good you can be for me?”

"No, thank you.”

Bucky's eyes widened slightly at your defiant reply. No one disobeyed him, especially not when he had laid out clear instructions.

He chuckled, but there was an edge to it, a hint of a warning.

"Doll, you can’t be defying my orders already. I know you know the punishment for being a disobedient little brat. Is that what you want? A reminder of who’s in charge here?”

"You're so cute when you try and control me, even though we both know that I'm in charge," you smirked.

A deep rumble left Bucky's throat at your words. He knew you were playing, pushing his buttons and testing his patience, but it was getting harder and harder to hold back.

"Oh really, doll? You think you're in charge?" he purred, his eyes darkening as he held your gaze, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Maybe I need to remind you who you belong to.”

"Do it, I dare you.”

Bucky's eyes flashed with a predatory gleam at your challenge. It was as if you were dangling a steak in front of a lion, and expecting it not to pounce. You were playing with fire, and he was itching to teach you a lesson.

In a swift, fluid movement, Bucky shifted your position on his lap so that you were lying back on the lounger. He hovered over you, his body pressed against yours, trapping you beneath him.

"Oh doll, I'm gonna do more than just remind you," he growled. "You're gonna do as you're told.”

"Yeah?" you asked breathily.

Bucky smirked at the breathlessness in your voice. It was clear that you were already affected, your body responding to his proximity, his touch. He brought his face closer to yours, his lips hovering just millimeters from your ear. His voice was rough and low, carrying a threat that made your heart skip.

"Yep. I'm gonna teach you a damn lesson in obedience, doll. And you're gonna love every second of it.”

"Oh, am I?”

Bucky leaned back to look at you, his eyes raking over your body, taking in your flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. He could see the effect he was having on you, and it only served to make him more confident.

"Damn right you are," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I can see it in your eyes, doll. You love it when I get all dominant, when I take charge. And I love it when I have you all submissive and pliant, begging for more.”

You could only whimper in response, your body consumed by the arousal and promise of his cock.

Bucky smirked, noticing your inability to form a response. He could easily see how turned on you were, how badly you wanted him to take you. His eyes darkened with a mixture of lust and satisfaction. Slowly and sensually he rolled his hips against your core.

"See, doll? You can try to play the brat, but deep down, you know what you want. You want me to be in charge, to take control and make you feel good. And that's exactly what I'm gonna do.”

"Good luck... with... that." You wanted to continue with your little game but his proximity had your resolve faltering. 

Bucky chuckled at your attempt to keep up this charade, but he could see that your resolve was weakening. Your body was responding to his proximity, betraying your act of nonchalance.

He leaned down, his lips grazing your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"Doll, you forget who you're dealing with," he murmured. "I've got you all figured out, and I know all your weaknesses. You can try to resist, but deep down I know you're craving my touch, begging for it, in fact.”

"So what are you gonna do about it?" you challenged softly.

Bucky's eyes darkened at your challenge, his smile turning into a predatory grin. He knew damn well what he was going to do, and he was aching to show you just how in control he was.

"Oh doll, don't tempt me," he warned, his voice low and husky. "I can think of plenty of things I could do to a disobedient little brat like you. But I think you'll find it hard to keep up this act when I've got you pleading and begging.”

"Oh please, I can do this all day.”

Bucky chuckled at your defiant words, taking in your flushed cheeks and breathless state. He could see the effect he was having on you, the way your body was responding to him, even as you tried to keep up your act.

"Is that so, doll?" he taunted. "You think you can keep this up all day, huh? We'll just see about that.”

For the first time since you started this game, you held your tongue. You welcomed whatever punishment he had in store for you... you craved it.

Bucky smirked at your sudden silence, sensing the shift in your attitude. It was clear that you were finally submitting to him, and he loved it. He could see the desire in your eyes, the need for him to take control and give you what you wanted.

"Looks like someone finally realized who's in charge," he murmured, his hands roaming over your body, tracing gentle patterns on your skin, his touch both soothing and dominating.

"Ready to be a good girl and do as you're told?”

"No," you breathed softly.

Bucky chuckled at your persistence in playing this game, his eyes darkening with a mixture of annoyance and desire. He knew you were testing his limits, seeing how far you could push him before he snapped.

"What do you mean, no? If I want my dick in your mouth, it's going in your mouth whether you like it or not.”

You shuddered with anticipation. Of course, you wanted his dick in your mouth. Bucky smirked, noticing the shiver that ran through your body. He could see the desire in your eyes, the way your tongue darted out to moisten your lips, betraying your own need for him.

"I see that got your attention," he murmured. "You want me to use that pretty mouth of yours, don't you?”

You struggled slightly under his weight. Bucky laughed at your attempts to move under him, the sound deep and throaty. He knew he had you right where he wanted you, trapped beneath him. 

"Struggle all you want, but you're not going anywhere until you're dripping with my cum.”

Bucky chuckled at the pout on your lips, but he allowed you to prop yourself up on the lounger, his knees still trapping your hips on either side. The position he had you in was intimate, his cock was almost pressed against your face, his eyes locked on yours, his hands resting on either side of your shoulders, caging you in.

Bucky loved having you like this, so vulnerable beneath him but his body completely at your mercy.

Bucky's eyes darkened as he watched you lick your lips, the gesture driving him wild. He could see the need in your eyes.

"You want it, don't you?" he asked, his voice heavy with desire.

"Only because you want it so bad," you smirked, your eyes roving over his throbbing length. He had pulled it out of his swim trunks, the veins full and pulsating readily. "Look at you, can't wait, can you? Need my lips around your pretty cock?”

Bucky nearly lost his breath at your words, his body shuddering with need. You knew just how to play him, how to push all his buttons.

"Damn doll," he groaned, his voice ragged with desire, momentarily forgetting his character. "You talk like that, and you're gonna make me lose control. But yes, I need your lips. I need your mouth on me. I need you, doll.”

You softened a little, wanting to give in without a fight, to give him what he craved. But a tiny voice in your mind reminded you that this would be so much more fun.

A slow smirk formed on your lips. "Make me," you said with as much defiance as you could muster.

Bucky's eyes darkened with annoyance and desire at your disobedience once again. He loved the challenge. The way you tested him pushed him to the edge, but it was hard to hold back when you were so goddamn sexy.

"Oh doll, are you really gonna push me like that?" he gritted out, his voice strained as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Slowly, he reached out and made a fist in your hair and moved your face right up to his with his firm grip. "Head back, mouth open, tongue out... now.”

Slowly but petulantly, you complied, letting him slide his head onto your tongue. Sensually, you rolled it around the edge before kissing the tip. You loved seeing the way his muscles contracted with pleasure.

Bucky's head fell back slightly, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily, a moment of ecstacy coursing through him.

"That's it, that's my good girl. Now you remember what to do if it's too much?”

You nodded, tapping his thigh three times, making him praise you again. You took him into your mouth again, lips forming an O. Narrowing your eyes, you looked up at him with a hint of rebelliousness and daring.

Bucky's eyes darkened at your gaze, his breath hitching in his chest. He wasn't used to anyone giving him this level of sass, and it was driving him crazy. 

"I see you're still feeling mouthy. Looks like I'll have to find a way to keep that pretty little mouth of yours occupied.”

You decided to show him how mouthy you could be, letting him slip further into your mouth.

Bucky's head slumped back, his breath coming in short bursts as you teased him. Damn, you were so damn good at this, and it was driving him wild.

"That's it, doll. Just like that, that's my girl. You know just what I like.”

You tried to answer him, but you couldn't form any coherent words with the way he filled your mouth.

"What's that, doll?" he chuckled despite his ragged breath, a hint of pride in his voice. He loved making you speechless, especially with your mouth full of him.

"Can't talk now, can you? You look so pretty with your mouth all full.”

You moaned, sending vibrations straight up his aching cock. The way he tasted always turned you on and your pussy was begging for attention. You squeezed your legs together to offer yourself some relief from the throbbing between your thighs.

Bucky groaned, your moans resonating through him, shooting straight through his body. It was like a jolt of electricity to his nerves, and he had to grit his teeth to keep control. 

"Ah darlin’, you know how that mouth of yours is affecting me," he breathed out, his eyes darting down to your squirming form. "Damn doll, you look like you're aching for something.”

Finally, you sank down all the way, your nose brushing the short strands of hair on his skin for a moment before pulling off with a gasp, a long string of spit connecting your lips to the tip of his cock.

Bucky could hardly think straight with the way you were working him over. It was a good thing he was sitting down because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to stand right now. 

"Damn doll," he breathed. "That mouth of yours is something else. But did I tell you you could stop?”

"It's my turn, Sarge.”

Bucky's eyes darkened, his breath hitching in his chest at the title. Something about you calling him by his rank made him a little weak.

"I don't think so, doll," he warned. "You know who's in charge here, and I haven't given you permission to take it your turn yet. You gotta earn it. You're gonna follow my orders.”

You whimpered softly, so turned on now that you couldn't think for yourself.

Bucky's eyes scanned over you, taking in your flushed and panting form. He could see the way you were responding to him, how your need was taking over and making it hard for you to think.

“There’s my good girl,” he murmured, his voice silky smooth. "Now open that pretty mouth and stick that tongue out so Sarge can fuck your face.”

You followed his orders without question, tilting your head back and sticking your tongue out as far as it would go. Seconds later Bucky was shoving his fat cock between your lips, thrusting his hips until the head of his dick was hitting the back of your throat. You did your best to suck around him, hollowing your cheeks while your tongue lapped up every drop of precum leaking from his tip. One of your hands braced on his hip while the other came up to play with his balls as he grunted softly with your ministrations.

Bucky was losing it a little more with each passing second. You were so damn gifted with that tongue of yours, and he wanted to come inside you.

“You’re gonna make Sarge come,” he moaned. So did you, right around his cock. “Bet you'd like that, huh?” His hips thrusted deeper into your throat and you felt tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. “You wanna taste me?”

You gazed up at him with desperate, pleading eyes, and he responded with a dark, mocking laugh.

“Too fucking bad.” He grunted, pulling himself from your mouth as his eyes fluttered shut while you were left panting and speechless.

“Ruined that chance,” he continued. “Show me those gorgeous tits. You want me to make sure they're protected from the sun? I can cover them in cum and you won't have to worry about that any more. How does that sound?” 

Bucky's hands moved to rest on your shoulders, firmly pushing you down onto your back, his body hovering over you, trapping your wrists above your head in his hands. His cock resting between your breasts.

“Is that a nod, doll? You gonna let me come on your tits?

"No,” you answered, rather weakly.

He chuckled, but there was an edge to it, a hint of a warning.

"Oh go on now, get me off, darlin'.”

You struggled slightly in a weak attempt to free yourself from his grip, to take what you wanted.

"Struggle all you want, doll. But you're not going anywhere 'til you're dripping with my cum," he muttered darkly from above you.

This man and his filthy mouth. The way it had you squirming, panting. You could feel the heat pooling between your thighs. The need for him to take you was overwhelming. Your body writhed beneath his, your aching pussy silently begging to be filled.

"Aww look at you all stuck," he laughed. "You're dripping wet, aren't you? You might as well tell the truth because I'm going to fucking check anyway.”

"Go on then.”

Bucky smirked, his eyes darkening with a familiar look. He loved this game, the push and pull, testing your limits and seeing how far he could go.

"You sure?" he asked, his tone taunting. "You want me to touch you, make you squirm even more than you already are?”

"Please..." the word slipped from your lips before you realized what you were saying.

Bucky's eyes darkened at your whimper. He could always tell when you were starting to let your guard down, when you were giving up the fight. It made him want you even more.

"Please? Look at that, you're begging now, doll. You need me, don't you?” He asked, gently thrusting between your breasts.

You whimpered softly. There was no denying it, you wanted to be touched, you wanted him to fill you up, you didn't want to wait. 

Bucky could see the look in your eyes, the desire that had taken over and left you a needy, begging mess. He loved seeing you like this, completely under his control, waiting for his touch.

"You're starting to be a good girl now, huh? I knew you would give in eventually. You just need a little push, don't you?”

"The only thing you should be pushing right now is little Sarge inside me.”

Bucky chuckled deeply. Damn, your filthy mouth was going to be the death of him.

"You're getting cheeky, doll. You won't be getting that anytime soon until you learn some manners.”

"You gonna teach me?" you smirked.

Bucky's laugh was dark and dangerous. "You're just asking for it, aren't you? But I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson, doll.”

You just gave him a long, silent look, slowly wetting your lips.

Bucky's eyes tracked the movement of your tongue, the way it glided over your full lips. You knew exactly what you were doing to him, and he was loving every second of it.

"You're playing with fire, doll. I don't think you realize just how much you're testing my control right now.”

"Show me.”

Bucky's breath hitched at your words. The challenge in your voice, the slight attitude behind your words. He loved it.

"You really want me to show you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You want me to lose control? You think you can handle that?”

"You think you've been in control all this time?”

Bucky actually laughed at that. You were trying so hard to regain a little bit of power, to knock him off balance and turn the tables. But he could see through it all.

"Don't act like you haven't been the one begging for it this whole time, doll," he smirked. "You've been desperate for my touch, my attention, my control. And you know it.”

"Then do it.”

"Oh, doll, you're so impatient," he taunted. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you, just the way you need. You'll get your fill, but on my terms.”

He moved down to kneel between your legs.

Bucky knelt between your legs, his body towering over you as he settled in. He could see the way your breath hitched, the way his presence alone was affecting you.

"You good, doll?" he asked, his voice low and sultry, "You ready for this?”

You smiled at your boyfriend, something had suddenly shifted between you, teasing put aside, your closeness and intimacy taking over as he hovered against your entrance.

Bucky froze for a moment, his eyes softening as he saw the change in you. He knew that feeling all too well, that moment when playfulness gives way to something more tender and true. He met your gaze, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You look so beautiful, doll," he murmured, his voice gentle. "I love you so goddamn much.”

"Love you too, Buck," you whispered.

Bucky's heart filled with warmth every time he heard you say those words. It was a moment of vulnerability, a reminder of the love and trust that existed between them.

He leaned down a little more, his body pressing against yours, the tip of his hard length resting against your entrance. He could see the love and longing in your eyes, and he wanted to make you feel good.

"Are you ready for me, doll?" he asked.

"Always ready for you, Sarge." You spread your legs, inviting him in. 

Bucky darkened eyes sparkling with affection. He loved that nickname, the way it sounded when it left your lips.

"There's my good girl," he praised, his fingers caressing your skin as he positioned himself at your entrance. "I'll take care of you, doll. Just relax and let me make you feel good.”

You panted softly as his thick cock filled you, the glorious stretch of your walls as he pushed into you making your eyes roll backwards. The first movement was slow, cautious, and almost gentle, giving you the chance to accept him. He kept going until he was fully seated inside you, his nose not even an inch away from yours. 

Bucky was in ecstasy, there was nothing quite like the feeling of your body wrapped around him. It was like coming home, a moment where he was yours completely, where he felt safe and accepted.

Bucky could feel your body twitching beneath him, begging for more. He knew he couldn't hold back any longer, the need was too strong.

The moment of stillness was just long enough to let the realization sink in that they were truly connected, body and soul. Bucky was fully lost in the moment, the heat and the sensations that were coursing through him. He needed more, needed to feel those highs, those peaks. He needed you.

"I need you, doll," he managed to gasp out, his voice gruff and raw, "Can I move?”

You nodded fervently.

Bucky could sense the pleading in your eyes, the unspoken plea for him to take you, make you his. His hands moved to your hips, holding you firm while he pulled out and then slammed back into you hard, a groan leaving his lips.

"Damn doll," he grunted. "You feel so good.”

"Ohhh, Buck." You moaned, no other words were left in your vocabulary as he pounded in and out of you, the sound of your skin slapping together almost drowning out the waves crashing on the beach.

The sound of your voice, the way you said his name, it drove him wild. He knew he couldn't last much longer, not when you were looking so damn beautiful, lying under him, taking every inch of what he had to offer. 

"That's it, doll. M'close.”

You weren't too far off either, not with the way that his tip brushed your A-spot before he pulled out, dragging over your sensitive G-spot. You moaned salaciously as he pushed up your thighs, burying himself deep inside you with each thrust.

Bucky was barely holding it together anymore, the need to make you fall apart first was the only thing keeping him from letting go.

You reached down to touch your clit, to speed things along so you could keep up with Bucky. Bucky's hand shot out, stopping you quickly.

"No, doll," he said, his voice firm. "You don't touch yourself unless I give you permission. That's my job. Understand?”

You whined softly, in the midst of your pleasure, you'd forgotten to keep up your act.

Bucky saw the look of frustration on your face and knew you had slipped. He couldn't help but chuckle softly, even as he was on the edge himself. 

"That's right, doll," he teased. "You forgot who was in charge here, didn't you? But don't worry, I'll remind you.”

He thrust into you harder, pounding into you so hard that you weren't forming any coherent thoughts. The familiar feeling was building rapidly inside you. "Buck," you moaned, as if the sound of his name would communicate what you were feeling.

Bucky recognized that sound, the way you were begging him, calling his name. He knew you were close, right on the edge of falling apart. He didn't let up, keeping that hard and steady pace. 

"Yeah, doll," he grunted, "You're gonna come for me, aren't you?”

Your fingers tightened around the towel that was still hanging on the side of the lounger as you whimpered.

Bucky could see the way your body was tensing, the way your grip was holding onto the towel for dear life. He knew he was pushing you to the limit. He wanted to see you come undone. 

"That's it, doll. Let go for me, I want to feel you squeezing me, come on, be a good girl for me and come.”

"Oh fuck!" The words tumbled from your lips as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

Bucky felt your body convulse around him as you came, and it was all he needed to tip him over the edge. The way your walls squeezed around him, milking his throbbing cock, sending fireworks shooting through every nerve in his body.

"Buck-uhhhh," you panted as your body relaxed, coming down from your climax.

Bucky collapsed onto the lounger next to you. He was panting, his breath coming out in gasps. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

"Damn, doll," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "That was something else.”

"Aww baby, did I make you all weak?" you smirked into his chest.

Bucky chuckled deeply, shaking his head slightly. "Don't get cocky, doll. I still got plenty of stamina left." He nipped playfully at your ear, his hand trailing down your side.

“I'm still waiting on that suncream, Sarge.” You gathered some of his cum that had trickled down your thigh onto your fingertip and held it up. “Not sure this is gonna cut it.”

Bucky growled, his eyes narrowing. Suddenly he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the end of the pool.

“Bucky!” you shrieked. “Don't you dare.”

“I think you need to cool off.” The grin on Bucky's face was positively smug.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and gave him a warning look as he threatened to throw you into the pool.

“Don't,” you said warningly.

Bucky chuckled, turning around and held you closer. You were about to sigh with relief but the glint in his eyes betrayed his intent. You gasped as he took a step backwards sending you both tumbling into the pool with a huge splash!

[hoe4hotchner]

hey! i love your stuff :)! was wondering if you could maybe do a short fic with hotch where he's interrogating the reader (who is a suspect, but is actually innocent), and the reader politely informs hotch that they're about to faint (they have a fainting condition, like POTS or something). hotch doesn't panic bc he's, well, hotch, but he calls for medical help. meanwhile, reader is just casually lying down on the cold floor of the cell and being really chill waiting to faint, even making conversation. anyway, hotch finds out that the police officers who had arrested the reader had denied them their medicine, and he rips them a new one.

OBVIOUSLY DONT WRITE IT IF YOU DONT WANT TO, I THINK YOU'RE LOVELY AND I DONT WANT TO PRESSURE YOu

have a nice day!

Unexpected Interrogation | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader | WC: 0.9k | CW: Hurt/comfort?, medical condition (POTS), mistreatment by law enforcement, fainting, medication.

A/N: I'm trying a new layout for when I answer requests, I don't know if I'll commit to it, but I like it for now.

Also I don't know anything about POTS or other fainting conditions, so I hope I did it justice - feedback is appriciated.

Hotch sat across from you, his expression stern and unyielding as he leaned forward in his chair, the dim lighting of the room casting sharp shadows on his face. To any observer, you would seem calm - your hands folded neatly in your lap and eyes focused - but inside, you were already feeling the telltale signs. The tightness in your chest, the lightheadedness creeping in. You’d been here for hours, and now, without your medicine, it was simply a matter of time before you would faint.

"You've been uncooperative since the moment we brought you in," Hotch said, his voice level but carrying the weight of suspicion as he couldn't quite figure out if you were guilty or not. "Tell me why you were at the scene."

You took a slow breath, trying to center yourself. "Agent Hotchner," you said politely, your voice a little too soft for the intensity of the moment. "I understand why I'm here, and I will tell you everything you want to know, but I think I should let you know… I'm about to faint."

He blinked, his gaze sharpening but not a trace of panic crossing his face. If anything, his brows furrowed, a mixture of confusion and concern settling in his expression. "You're about to faint?"

"Yeah," you nodded, shifting slightly in your seat, trying to ignore the swimming sensation behind your eyes. "I have a fainting condition - it's called POTS. Normally, I’d take medicine, but..." You gave a tired shrug. "The officers who arrested me didn’t let me have it."

The tension in the room shifted. Hotch leaned back slightly, the gears in his mind already turning. He wasn’t a man to panic, even in strange situations. He pressed a button on the desk to signal for help, keeping his eyes on you. "I’ll get a medic in here."

You offered him a small smile. "Thanks, but it’s cool. Happens all the time. I’ll just… lie down." Without waiting for a response, you eased yourself off the chair - thankful that you weren't cuffed to the table - and laid flat on the cold tiled floor, your head resting on your arms as if this was the most natural thing in the world. The coolness of the floor helped somewhat, but your vision was already narrowing at the edges.

Hotch stood, watching you for a moment before kneeling next to you, his tone softened slightly. "How long have you been without your medication?"

You glanced at him from your place on the floor, blinking slowly. "Since they arrested me… hours ago? Honestly, it could be worse. But you know, fainting isn’t great for clearing one’s name." You chuckled lightly, trying to make the best of the situation, though it quickly turned into a weary sigh. "I’m innocent, by the way."

He didn't respond to that directly, but there was a flicker in his eyes, something acknowledging the injustice of your situation. "How often does this happen?"

"Often enough that I’m pretty used to it," you said casually, your breath slowing as the dizziness increased. "But hey... it gives me an excuse to lie down on the job, right?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of Hotch’s mouth - just for a moment - but then his professional mask slipped back into place. "Don’t talk. Just focus on staying calm."

You hummed in agreement, though your vision was blurring fast. "I’ll be out soon, but when I wake up, I’d love to continue this conversation. I mean, I know I’m innocent, but it would be great to convince you of that too."

He gave a short nod. "We’ll get to that. First, let’s get you taken care of."

Moments later, the medics arrived, rushing into the room with a stretcher and medical kit. But Hotch didn’t leave your side, ensuring they knew about your condition, making sure they were doing everything right. As they checked your vitals and prepared to move you, you started to fade, your words becoming slow and drowsy. "Thanks, agent… you’re not as intimidating as I thought you’d be."

The medic smiled at that, while Hotch’s lips pressed into a thin line, the smallest hint of amusement in his eyes. But once you were being taken care of, Hotch’s focus shifted back to the situation that had led to this. The officers who had arrested you. The ones who had denied you your medication.

Minutes later, Hotch found the officers outside the room, his demeanor stone cold. “Which one of you denied the suspect their medication?”

One of the officers, a tall man with a smug expression, stepped forward. “We didn’t think it was relevant. They didn’t say it was urgent.”

Hotch’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a low tone. “Didn’t think it was relevant? You’re lucky they’re stable, or you’d be facing a lawsuit at the very least.” He took a step closer, towering over the man. “You do not withhold medical treatment from anyone in custody. I don’t care if they’re a suspect, a witness, or guilty. Do you understand?”

The officer faltered, clearly not expecting the sharp reprimand. “Y-yes, sir.”

“I’ll be filing a report about this. You’ve jeopardized a life today. If I ever hear of anything of the sort again, you’ll be out of a job.” Hotch didn’t wait for a response, turning on his heel and heading back toward the interrogation room. There were few things that set him off more than mistreatment, especially under his watch.

He returned just as the medics were finishing up. You were still unconscious, but stable. Hotch stood by the door for a moment, watching as they prepared to transport you, his expression unreadable.

Innocent or not, he was going to make sure you were treated right.

[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.

[suguae]

tell me....will we still fuck ?

જsynopsis after huge argument you and sukuna decided to make up, only under one condition.

જpairings Ryomen Sukuna x F. Reader

જcontent MDNI! fucking.

"Are you even fucking listening!" You asked, raising your voice as Sukuna just sat back with a beer in hand and scrolling on his phone with his other hand. Not a single care about what you had been complaining about now, "Ryomen Sukuna!" You crossed your arm strutting closer to him.

Sukuna’s eyes flicked up from his phone lazily, a smirk playing on his lips as he took another sip of his beer. "Oh, I'm listening," he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. "Just not sure if what you're saying is worth my attention."

Your jaw dropped at his audacity. "You're fucking ridiculous," you exclaimed, unable to believe his attitude. "Listen to me when I'm fucking talking to you!"

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered by your outburst, "Throwing a tantrum won't get you anywhere." Your fists clenched at his nonchalant demeanor. "This isn't a tantrum, Sukuna. This is me demanding the respect I deserve."

He set his beer down with a sigh, his expression hardening. "Respect is a two-way street," he said coolly. "You want me to listen? Fine. But don’t expect me to bow down to your every demand."

Your anger flared at the thought, and you couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "And what the fuck do you know about respect! Leaving drooling emojis on another bitch's post is not fucking respect!"

Sukuna's expression hardened, but he didn't look away. "It's just a joke, Y/N. You're blowing it out of proportion."

"A joke?" you repeated, disbelief coloring your voice. "You think disrespecting me like that is a fucking joke?" He shrugged, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "I don't see why you're so upset. It's not like I'm actually cheating on you.”

The tension in the room was palpable as you grabbed the keys to your car, your hands trembling slightly with a mixture of anger and hurt. "Okay," you muttered, your voice strained. "Okay, Ryomen Sukuna, whatever you say."

Sukuna's eyes widened as you made your way to the front door. "Where the fuck are you going?" he demanded, his tone bordering on desperation as he stood up quickly.

"Out," you replied tersely, your voice cold as you swung the front door open and stormed out, the slam echoing through the room behind you.

You froze in your tracks as Sukuna's voice cut through the night air, "If you fucking get in that car, dressed like that... it's over, Y/N," he demanded, his voice laced with anger and frustration.

You looked down at yourself, the short, skin-tight dress hugging your curves, your breasts threatening to spill out. You knew you looked good, maybe too good for just a night out. 

With a surge of boldness, you turned to Sukuna before slamming the car door shut, meeting his stunned gaze head-on. "Eat my pussy," you said defiantly.Then, without waiting for a response, you started the car and drove off into the night, leaving Sukuna standing there, speechless and stunned.

Sukuna's whispered curse hung heavy in the air as he watched you drive away, his frustration and anger evident in the set of his jaw. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed back into the house, his mind already calculating his next move.

Grabbing his helmet and keys, he made a beeline for his motorcycle, his movements swift and purposeful. He knew he had to find you.

With a quick glance at his phone to track your location, Sukuna revved up the engine and tore out of the driveway, the roar of the motorcycle echoing through the night as he sped off into the darkness, determined to catch up to you. 

As Sukuna raced through the night, his mind buzzed with a mixture of emotions. He knew he had been mean, perhaps even cruel at times, but he had never seen you unleash your anger with such intensity before. It was unexpected, raw, and strangely exhilarating.

Despite the gravity of the situation, a smirk tugged at the corners of Sukuna's lips as he thought about the fire he had ignited within you. He had always been drawn to your passion, your intensity, but seeing it directed at him in such a fierce way stirred something primal within him.

Sukuna pushed his way through the crowded nightclub, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of you. The music thumped loudly, the air thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol, making it difficult to navigate through the throng of people."Of course she would," he muttered to himself, a hint of annoyance in his voice. 

Sukuna's eyes landed on you amidst the chaos of the nightclub, and for a moment, everything else faded into the background. He couldn't deny the rush of attraction he felt as he took in your appearance, the way the dress hugged your curves in all the right places.

His eyes narrowed as he watched the scene unfold before him. A man approached you with a smirk, holding two shots in his hands. He expected you to turn down the drinks, as you usually did when strangers approach you at the club. But to his surprise, you didn't.

Without hesitation, you took the drink from the man's hand and quickly chugged the shot, a playful grin on your face as you slammed the glass back down on the bar. Sukuna's jaw clenched at the sight, a mixture of jealousy and anger bubbling up inside him.

Sukuna's steps were purposeful as he closed the distance between himself, you, and the stranger who dared to encroach upon his territory. His jaw was set, eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and possessiveness as he reached out and pushed the man away from you.

"Back the fuck up," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "She's with me."

The stranger's smirk faltered for a moment before he recovered, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he cocked his head to the side. "What, I can't offer a pretty girl a drink? Besides, what are you gonna do about it?"

Sukuna's fists clenched at his sides, his patience wearing thin. "Fuck around and find out," he shot back, his voice a low rumble.

Sukuna's demand was firm as he insisted, "Let's go." But you merely rolled your eyes in response, seemingly unfazed by his authoritative tone.

"This is not a fucking joke, let's go," he barked, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

You couldn't help but smirk at his sudden change in demeanor. "Oh, now it's not a joke, huh?" you retorted, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Sukuna's jaw clenched at your remark, his eyes narrowing slightly as he fought to keep his temper in check. "You know what I mean," he muttered, his voice low.

But you remained defiant, refusing to back down. "Do I?" you teased, enjoying the way you had rattled him.

With a frustrated sigh, Sukuna reached out and grabbed your hand, his grip firm as he pulled you away from the bar. "Let's go," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As you followed him out of the nightclub, a smirk played at the corners of your lips. Despite the tension between you, there was an undeniable thrill in pushing Sukuna's buttons, in seeing the raw, unfiltered emotions he tried so hard to conceal. 

As you entered the house, a heavy sigh escaped your lips, the weight of the night's events pressing down on you like a ton of bricks. "Baby..." Sukuna began, his voice soft with concern.

But you cut him off with a scoff, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "Don't fucking baby me, Ryomen," you snapped, refusing to use his first name. The use of his full name was a clear indicator of your irritation.

Sukuna's eyebrows lifted in surprise at your tone, but he wisely chose to remain silent, sensing that now was not the time to push your buttons further.

Your heels clicked against the floor as you stormed away, heading towards the bedroom you two shared. Sukuna watched you go, a knot forming in his stomach as he realized the extent of the damage he had caused.

As you began to undress, Sukuna watched you quietly, the weight of his earlier actions heavy on his mind. He could see the tension in your shoulders, the guarded expression on your face, and it only served to deepen the knot of guilt in his stomach.

"Come here," he said softly, his voice gentler than usual, as he settled on the corner of the bed.

You paused, hesitating for a moment before you replied, your voice tinged with skepticism, "Ryomen..."

"Y/n, just stop being so damn stubborn and come here," he insisted, his tone firm but laced with a vulnerability you rarely heard from him.

"What?" you sighed, feeling a mixture of surprise and disbelief as you stood in front of him.

Without hesitation, Sukuna reached out, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you onto his lap. As he held you close, he reached for his phone, his movements deliberate as he began deleting every social media app from his device.

"You can even take my phone away, if that helps bring back my sweet girl," he mumbled against your neck, his lips trailing soft kisses along your skin.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Sukuna's attempt to make amends, even though a part of you appreciated the gesture. Grabbing his phone, you tossed it onto the bed with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "Yeah, okay," you said, your voice tinged with sarcasm as you let out a sigh.

"Let me make it up to you, in bed," he whispered, his voice husky with longing.

Sukuna's smile was like a wolf's grin as he gently guided you towards the bed, his touch sending tingles of anticipation through your body. "Lay that pretty body of yours on the bed, hmm?" he murmured, his voice sending a rush of heat through you.

"Sukuna, I'm not letting this go that easily, you know..." you said, your voice trailing off with a hint of mischief.

Sukuna's eyebrows raised in surprise as your legs wrapped around his torso, effectively pinning him down as you hovered over him. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, a mixture of amusement and arousal dancing in his eyes as he met your gaze.

“You pissed me off today more than you can imagine.” You huffed as you traced your finger down his chest, tracing over the black ink of his tattoos. “We can have sex.” You smiled, “The catch is, you can look…but you can’t touch.”

His brows furrow, “No…” 

“Hmm yes.” You leaned down whispering into his ear, leaving a soft coat of warm air on his ear, “If you don’t want to do that, then we can just simply stop. I’m tired anyway.” You backed up faking a yawn. 

“How long.” He says, closing his eyes, 

“Whenever I say.” Now he was up for a challenge, a hard one. He opened his eyes, getting a good look at you. Your breast now fully in view as you unhooked your bra, that was the first thing he wanted to grab.

Another hard thing for Sukuna was that you being dominant was rare, really rare. If he were in charge tonight, he’d have you face down and ass up, pressing against your asshole as he thrusted deep inside you, but that wasn’t gonna be the case tonight. 

With a sultry gaze, you press your breast against each other, causing a whispered moan to grace the air. You bite down on your lips as Sukuna’s entrancing eyes meet yours, a fire flickering within them as you tease your nipples into hardened peaks.

Your hands slip down to your covered center, where you gently massage your sensitive clit through the fabric of your delicate undergarment. “ngghhh.” A soft whimper escapes you as you feel Sukuna’s body respond beneath you, his cock growing rigid with a hunger only you can satisfy. 

Your hands move stealthily to the waistband of Sukuna’s pants, his breathing getting heavier and heavier at each delicate touch. Carefully you unbuttoned them, sliding them down. In an instant his massive, girthy cock springs free, eager for your attention. “ride me like you mean it, yeah?” He huffs as you just watched him basically squirming under you. 

“how about you shut your damn mouth.” You blurted out audaciously. Gracefully you descend down Sukuna’s body, arching your back with your ass in the air teasing him as you approach his throbbing cherry-red tip, savoring the taste of precum as it drips onto your waiting tongue.

 The tender kitty licks of your tongue against Sukuna’s tip causes him to squirm, “st–stop fuckin’ teasin.” He groaned, as he was fighting his primal urge to grab that pretty little face of yours and force you down his girthy cock. “Tell me how bad you want it, kuna.” You batted your eyelashes as you wrapped your soft hands on his length. 

He closed his eyes in frustration, never had he ever wanted to submit to you, “I want you, to fuckin suck me good.” He groaned, bringing his hands up to his face, trying his best to resist the urge. Your soft hands take control, slowly and sensually gelding along Sukuna’s throbbing veiny cock as you continue to tease him with your sultry, “mmm look at my good boy.”

“oh shut–ahh.” Sukuna couldn’t help but softly moan as your plush mouth expertly descends, enveloping his entire cock in warmth and wetness as you suck him gracefully. “mmm” You moaned, sending vibrations down his dick. His fat tip constantly coming in contact with the back of your throat, “jus’ like that baby.” He huffs taking in the euphoric feeling running through his body.

Meanwhile your hand cruises down your clothed cunt, sliding your hand into your undergarments with a lew glint in your eyes you begin rubbing your clit in time with your sucking motion, the growing warmth in your cunt building as you take his throbbing cock more and more. 

You throw your head back, letting the drool run down your mouth. “look at my pretty girl.” He whispered as his hands rested behind his back, and his face plastered with a smirk. You crawled back up, leaning closer to his face. You plant wet kisses all over Sukuna’s lips, a few stray saliva mixing with his as you two moan together softly, tongues intertwining with passion and lust. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” He murmurs breaking the kiss, “I want to fuck you so hard right now.” he sighs leaning his head back as you sit up. Your knees sinking into the soft cushion as you slowly slide yourself onto his cock. With each passing inch, you feel yourself getting stretched out and filled to the brim, a soft moan escaping your lips, “ahhh fuck…s–so big kuna’”

He winces in the pleasure, bucking his hips, “come on baby, fucki–ah fucking faster.” With each downward thrust, your ass rhythmically bounces atop Sukuna’s cock, the sensation driving him wild with pleasure, “jus’ like fu–like tha’ doll.” Your breast bouncing and swaying with every movement, “please ba–baby let me touch.”

Too deep in trance, you throw your head back lost in the pleasure. “nnnghh kuna’” you whimper, feeling his tip pulsating inside you. “Fuck this.” He muttered gently, grabbing your face, guiding you to meet his gaze. "Stop looking away," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I want to see your pretty face while you ride me so well." you continued to move, each movement bringing you both closer to the edge of ecstasy. Sukuna's grip on your face softened, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek as he watched you with a mixture of desire and admiration. 

“nn-no m’ tired.” you whine, as you moved slower and slower, trying to catch your breath, Sukuna's eyes remained locked on yours. 

"let me do it then, okay?" Sukuna huffed out, his voice strained with a mix of desire and concern as he watched your exhausted, limp body. You nodded slowly, trusting him completely.

With a gentle but firm touch, he helped you off of him, guiding you onto the pillow beneath you. Your body responded instinctively, positioning yourself with your ass up, ready for him to take you in. 

He couldn't help but smirk as you quickly gave in, a knowing glint in his eyes. Sukuna had anticipated that your dominant streak wouldn't last, and seeing you surrender so completely only fueled his desire further.

"turn around for me, doll," Sukuna murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I want to look at your beautiful face while I fuck you so nice."

You complied, shifting your position to face him. His eyes drank in the sight of you, filled with both raw need and a deep-seated admiration. With a gentle touch he positioned himself over you.

“kuna’” you moaned, each thrust was deliberate,the pleasure for both of you. Sukuna's expression was a mixture of concentration and passion, the sight of you beneath him driving him wild.

"that's it," he breathed, his words barely audible over the sound of your shared breaths. "jus like that." He moaned as your arms wrapped around his neck, “mmnn, gon’ cum kuna..” 

“let it all out baby,”

"That's the last time you ever take charge," he teased, a playful glint in his eyes. "You couldn't even last." You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. Your legs intertwined with his. "Maybe," you replied, your voice soft and filled with affection. 

He sighed, "Baby, I'm sorry for today..." His voice was soft, filled with a rare vulnerability. You gently caressed his cheek, your touch tender and reassuring.

This softer side of Sukuna was fleeting, you knew that well. But in this moment, you cherished it, soaking in the warmth and sincerity he offered.

"It's okay," you whispered, your fingers tracing gentle patterns on his skin.

[evie-sturns]

teach me - Chris Sturniolo

summary: you find out you’re bestfriend chris is a total virgin, and has never touched himself, you offer to teach him everything

contains: nsfw, sub!chris, virginity loss, inexperienced!chris, handjob, fluff.

——————————————————————————

chris and i have been friends for years, i met him in middle school when we were placed in the same class.

we tell eachother most things, but a topic that never gets brought up often between us is our personal sex life, obviously he makes dirty jokes every hour of the day but that’s about it.

i sit on the couch with chris as we yap about useless topics,

suddenly he goes dead silent.

“chris?” i question, inspecting his blank face. he shakes his head before speaking,

“what.” he mutters, my eyebrows furrow from the very unexpected change in attitude.

“what happened with you?” i ask, scooting closer to him on the couch and tracing my fingers over his knuckles.

“i can tell you anything right?” he whispers, my heart rate starts to subtly pick up.

“yes- of course!” i state with a nervous laugh.

he hesitates for a moment, his hand reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck.

“i’m like, really frustrated.” he says with no other context,

“frustrated? did i say something-“ i fidget with his hand.

“no! like… sexually frustrated-“ he says barely above a whisper.

my cheeks flush, that’s the first time chris has mentioned anything sexually involving him.

“oh? when was the last time you fucked a girl.” i ask calmly, he buries his face into his palms with a small groan

“never.” he whines quietly.

“what?”

“never!” he repeats slightly louder.

“you’re a virgin?” i ask, he nods shyly.

“you’re the most- i mean i just didn’t expect that-“ i ramble, trying to make him feel better.

“i’m honestly coming up on 21 and i’ve never done anything it’s so annoying.” chris speaks up.

“i get it, just do stuff with yourself.” i sigh,

“i don’t know how to..” he groans,

“you don’t know how to do what?” i ask,

“touch myself? i don’t fucking know-“ he says.

a small laugh escapes my lips, “you are literally the most horny man i know, how have you gone a solid 20 years without touching yourself.”

“i’ve never had a need to, but these past few months have been.. different” he laughs,

“jesus chris, i understand why you’re frustrated now.” i scoff,

he nods with a grin, a silence filling the living room.

he avoids eye contact before opening his mouth, “you’re like.. the only person who knows about that.”

i nod, “thank you for telling me chris.”

“so- you genuinely don’t know how to touch yourself?” i repeat,

“i mean i know how to but i’ve never tried- i did try once but i don’t think i did it right cause it didn’t feel good.” he sighs.

“i can teach you.” i blurt out, almost cutting him off. i clasp a hand over my mouth before spinning around.

he goes quiet, almost contemplating his decision.

“would you?- teach me..?” he whispers,

“i- i mean i guess” i reply,

how the fuck is this happening.

chris’s chest rises and falls more dramatically now, he runs a hand through his long silky hair.

i stand up off the couch, grabbing his hand and tugging him up.

i pull him down the corridor into his bedroom, “god what are the chances of you, chris sturniolo, being a total virgin?” i say in disbelief, his cheeks go red with a small laugh.

i sit him down on the edge of his bed, “we’re really doing this?” he asks,

“it’ll just be- normal, just a one time thing. i mean it’s a positive thing and you’ll finally be able to do stuff with yourself!” i smile,

“o-okay you can just tell me everything i need to do.” he breathes,

“let’s start by getting these off you.” i say crouching down next to the edge of the bed and tugging his sweatpants down his legs.

“you might wanna take your shirt off, you’ll get hot.” i tell him,

he complies, discarding his shirt onto the pile of pillows at the other end of the bed.

he sits in just his boxers.

i take in a deep breath before harshly pulling my shirt off my body, exposing my completely bare chest.

i mean, i had to get him hard at some point?

a small “woah” escapes his raw lips as he shamelessly stares

“woah is crazy.” i mock him, earning a small giggle from him.

i push him further back onto the bed, his back resting against the headboard.

i sit down and straddle his thighs, looking down at him slightly.

“okay, can i take these off?” i ask, tugging at the hem of his black boxers, which have a large tent in them.

“yeah- go for it-“ he sighs with an excited grin.

i tug them down, his erection springing out and resting against his stomach.

“oh my god chris!” i state without thinking,

“is it bad?” he instantly replies with,

“no- no just big.” i whisper,

i take his length into my hand, just holding it up right.

he sighs deeply,

i almost forget i’m meant to be teaching him.

“right, so give me your hand.” i say, grabbing his hand

i spit into the palm of his hand, “oh-“ he breathes,

“sorry.” i giggle,

i grab his wrist and guide his hand to his cock.

“what i want you to do first is just rub that spit all over it f’me.” i say, looking into chris’s eyes.

he wraps his hand around his dick, before stroking it slowly up and down.

“there we go, just like that.” i nod, he watches his hand intently as it runs up and down his length.

i adjust my position on his thighs before holding the outside of his hand, and taking it off his dick.

i just hold the outside of his hand now, moving it wherever i want it.

“i only need your thumb right now.” i whisper, he nods, curling all his other fingers.

i hold his thumb and brush it over his raw tip, a small gasp escapes his mouth.

“just keep rubbing that for me.” i instruct him softly,

he nods frantically as he continues to do exactly that.

i guide his thumb into his slit, a pathetic gasp escapes his lips, “oh my god!” his voice raises a couple octaves.

“good boy, you’re doing really well.” i praise him, which he responds very well to,

i hear several loud whimpers fall from his lips, along with his hips lifting slightly off the bed.

“now give me your other hand.” i say, prying his hand away from the sheets.

i place it on the lower portion of his dick, and guide it up and down.

i squeeze his hand slightly around his dick, his mouth falling open.

“i- i need to stop its getting too much!” he protests with tears pooling in his eyes,

“no sweetheart, that just means you’re about to finish, which will feel really nice, okay?” i assure him,

“fuck-! yes-“ he squeezes out, bucking his hips up into his hands.

his eyes are squinted open slightly, still directly staring at my tits.

i take my hand off the outside of his, and reach it down to cup his balls.

that seems to tip him over the edge.

“pleasepleasepleaseplease”

he rambles, throwing his head back against the headboard before spurts of white land on his stomach and chest.

“good, so so good, keep running your hand up and down and ride it out.” i instruct him, which he does.

he slowly takes his hands away, letting them fall limp onto the sheets as he’s completely silent.

“that- that felt incredible y/n.” he pants in shock,

“how did i go 20 years without ever doing that? jesus.” he covers his flushed face with his hands.

“you did so well.” i assure him, he lets out a soft whine.

i laugh lightly, “you respond well to words like that” i say under my breath.

“mmhm.” he agrees, “that shit did something to me.”

i reach over and tug on my shirt, he lays still on the bed,

streaks of white still lay across his torso.

“oh- hold on.” i say, grabbing his shirt and starting to gently clean him up.

i tug up his boxers and sweatpants, he sighs deeply before flopping down on the bed.

“thank you- so much.” he sighs,

“do you want me to.. maybe teach you more tomorrow?” i ask boldly,

his eyes almost light up, “shit, please do.” he laughs.

—-

tags:

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