#i finished them in record breaking speed for me

[lonely-moonshine-still]

🎪💙

This is an original custom i creaded for a secret santa last year!

Their horns, clothes and arrow heads are made from apoxie sculpt, and the arrows through their head from a piece of wire.

I wanted this custom to have a harlequin look to it and am really happy with how they turned out. Red, black and white are my go to colours for any time I choose a colour scheme, so I wanted to add some blue in there as well to highlight and add some more interest to the character.

Overall, I really love how this one came out and definitely miss having them around 😅

[evnseokz]

hii, hope you're doing well!

i'm thinking... bf!jungwon asks to record the sounds while doing sex and his gf decides to surprise him by asking him to cum inside

my first ever ask!! thank you so much for sending 🫶 hopefully i did this suggestion justice ^_^

pairing: bf! jungwon x f. reader

contents: p in v, unprotected sex (do nawt be like them), recording of moans/sex, pet names: baby, babe, kissing, nipple play

w.c. 640

his cock was nestled deep inside you, stretching you out so well. his thrusts were slow and deep, his tip kissing your cervix. your hands gripping his biceps as hard as you could, moans spilling from your lips.

jungwon was obsessed with the way you sounded, your moans being like music to his ears. an idea popped into his head. “baby, can i record your moans please?” he asked suddenly. your eyes which were closed previously, shot open, blush creeping onto your cheeks. “w-what?” you ask, slightly embarrassed at the question. “it’ll be for my ears only babe i swear, just for when i’m away and need to hear you.” he replied sensing hesitancy in your voice. you chewed on your lip as you racked your brain for an answer. finally you nod, jungwon not wasting another second to lean over to grab his phone off the nightstand and hit record. he set the phone down next to your body and focused his attention back to you and only you.

he continued his thrusts into you, light whimpers still falling from your lips, but now hyper aware of the phone recording you, you seemed to be holding back. “c’mon baby let me hear you” jungwon pouted. jungwon picked up his pace without warning, thrusting into you with speed, thus causing loud moans to fall from your mouth. jungwon smiled in satisfaction as he brought his hand down to your heat, and started rubbing circles on your clit. you cry out, the combination of him filling you up so well with his cock and the attention to your clit being all too much. jungwon smirked to himself, feeling you clench around his cock, he groaned slightly.

he can tell you’re close, his thrusts never slow and he leans down to capture you in a kiss. “feels s’good won” you mumble against his lips, he breaks away, and peppers kisses down your neck and to your chest. he brings his mouth down to your nipples, swirling and sucking on the sensitive nubs. the extra sensation sending waves of pleasure through your body, your orgasm ripping through you as jungwon continues to thrust in and out of you, seemingly chasing his own high. “w-where do you want me? i’m c-close” he stutters slightly. you contemplate in your head for a moment. “baby hurry and answer i can’t last much longer” he whines.

you wrap your legs around his waist trapping him in place as he continues to thrust inside you. you can tell he’s holding himself back from cumming, and you giggle slightly at his frustration. “baby it’s not f-funny” his head hangs as his balls begin to tighten. “i’m serious where do you want me” he says again. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to be face to face with you, “inside” you say simply. you bite your lip, starting to feel overstimulated from his thrusts. shock is written all over jungwons face, “a-are you su-“ “yes.” you cut him off before he can even finish his question. you smash your lips into his, clenching around him slightly as you feel a second orgasm bubbling up in your stomach. he moans loudly, his hips stuttering and his thrusts becoming sloppy, emptying his seed into your cunt. your second orgasm follows shortly after, milking him for everything he has.

he reaches to his phone, pressing end recording and then he collapses on top of you, you shrieking slightly at the sudden weight on your body. “wonnn you’re heavy” you whine. he slowly lifts himself up, looking you in your face, “sorry baby, you were just too good” he smiled before dropping down to pepper your face with kisses. you giggle, managing to capture his lips into yours for a quick kiss. he pulls away, “i love you so much” he says, “i love you so much my wonie.”

[dollniu]

late nite spicy headcanons with niu ! 🌃💋— JJK men

synopsis — part 2 of late nite spicy jjk headcanons with niu !

characters — sukuna, gojo, choso, nanami, toji, ino, higuruma

content — blood play, praise kink, bondage, overstimulation, clothes swap, angry sex, consensual recording, nipple play, oral sex, shower sex, overstimulation, cyber sex, mutual masturbation, office sex, after care, first time, nudes, double penetration, neck kisses, lingerie, spanking, and cuddle sex

info — y’all showed so much love on my first ‘late nite spicy headcanons’ so i thought i’d do another one!

other — MDNI 🔞, if you have any prompt requests or suggestions, feel free to reblog or comment!

SUKUNA — “so pathetic for me, do you need a punishment?”

sukuna lovesss blood, especially the taste of yours. even when you’re on your period, he doesn’t care and will eat you out and even fuck you however he wants. he just loves the taste

his favorite foreplay is sucking on your tits or chest, just playing with your nipple while he sucking, biting, and licking the living shit out of the other 🤭

there’s nothing our king of curses loves more than lingerie, specifically the red lacey ones that put your tits and ass on full display 🤭 he imagines himself ripping them off your body and fucking you right then and there

our two dicked king will double penetrate you regardless of what position y’all are in, fucking you in both wholes makes the experience 10x more pleasurable especially at the fast speed sukuna goes at.. practically breaking you apart

he calls you names like “doll”, “slut”, “pathetic thing”, anything that dehumanizes you and turns u into a play thing for him to toy with

GOJO — “you like it when i’m fucking you like this, princess?”

gojo has plenty of kinks, one of his favorites being handcuffs! specifically on himself, the black fluffy ones are his fav 😚 putting his hands behind his back, on his knees, the intimacy of not knowing what you’ll do to him next is enough to make him cum! touching him, riding him, fucking him, it’s all too much for our sensitive satoru ♥️

occasionally, while he’s teaching or out on a mission, you’ll send him a casual lewd photo which usually leads to him finishing up whatever he’s doing rather quickly… to teleport home and fuck the shit out of you

his favorite place to have sex is in the shower, just showering together is enough for him but being able to push you up against the marble wall while fucking you, the hot steam making it hard to breath, it feels god so good

gojo will call you princess/prince, but in and out of the bedroom!

a single neck kiss can send gojo into a complete horny frenzy, peppering his neck in slow and steady hickeys and kisses drives him absolutely insane, it’s his most sensitive part after all

CHOSO — “please keep using me, just like that..”

there’s nothing choso likes more than pathetic overstimulation, feeling everything at once— fucking you, getting his dick sucked just right, riding him, he can’t help but let out sweet loud moans and whimpers 🤭

choso also lovesss it when your loud, specifically screaming his name. while he’s fucking you, hitting your sweet spot over and over again, your moans just make him fuck you harder !

he has a huge praise kink, loves being called a good boy and will absolutely beg for you to touch him, “i’ll be good, please just touch me- please!”

mutual masturbation is so intimate yet romantic in a way, choso loves fingering you and playing with your clit, hearing how good you sound when he’s pleasuring you. along with getting his dick stroked? he’ll melt 😫

his fav position is cuddle sex for sure, slowly grinding against you just before bed turns into an endless night of cumming from behind you!

NANAMI — “you’re so beautiful beneath me, my love.”

nanami loves making you feel good especially through praise. making you feel special, stroking your hair and guiding you through everything, saying how good your doing, etc etc. he can’t get enough of it

nothing turns him on like when he sees you wearing nothing but his dress shirt that practically looks like a dress on you! it won’t be long till he drags you to the bed and fucks you with it on 😵‍💫

feeling your hands on his chest while you’re riding him is probably one of the best feelings in the world, feeling you scratch at his skin out of pleasure is something he didn’t know he liked till you started doing it

he’ll fuck you on his office desk, just saying. whenever you stop by at work in an outfit that’s a little too revealing he’ll practically drag you to his office and strip you down, pushing you onto his desk and fucking you good.

nanami is hugeee on after-care, like this man will clean you up, cuddle you, bring you water and food, everything to make you feel loved and cared for

TOJI — “i’ll cum in you over and over till i’m tired of it.”

toji is ROUGH, like really rough. he will bite you, shove his tongue down your throat, choke you, all while pounding into you and repeatedly cumming inside of you! (similarly to sukuna!)

he’s prone to fucking you while he’s mad, basically fucking his anger into you which makes him an uncontrollable horny bastard that’ll fuck you till he’s finished 😫

this man lovesss your ass, especially spanking it while fucking you from the back!

he uses his tongue fairly often during sex, which is probably why he likes oral so much. eating you out, making you cum over and over again.. along with licking your sensitive skin while he’s fucking you, he loves the taste of you

toji likes recording him fucking you, in every position, eating you out, fucking you from the back, and especially from the front cause he gets to see you become a complete mess. he keeps them saved on his face just in case you send him a teasing text which you’ll probably regret later

INO — “dont touch me there i’ll- fuck.. cum!”

before you and ino met, he always avoided anything intimate besides casual make out seshs. so his first time with you was absolutely fucking life changing. he was arching his back at the smallest touches, putting in just the tip made him almost cum immediately, he’s extremely sensitive!

ino becomes a blabbering mess during sex, like he genuinely can’t stop talking and mutters quiet “you feel s’fucking good’s”and “god, please don’t stop’s”.

during sex, he can’t help but crack small jokes that make the whole experience 10x funnier, whole time he’s fucking you, y’all are just giggling with moans in between them 🤭

he LOVES EATING PUSSY!! end of story.

ino’s a sucker for titty pics and def jerks off to pics of yours whenever he misses you a little too much.. he’s a little perv that can’t control his desires for you!

HIGURUMA — “dear, if you keep looking at me like that i won’t be able to control myself.”

he’ll let you ride that big nose and we all know it! i’ll make this known till i die, higuruma’s favorite sex position is when your sitting right on his face, grinding your clit against his nose as he explores your cunt with his tongue

he can’t control himself when you beg for him, looking up at him with pleading eyes that are wet with tears, drives him absolutely crazy

higuruma is usually away at work for long periods of time, sometimes making it home only for you to be already asleep :( so whenever he’s out for the night and staying at a hotel, a quick facetime call of pleasuring yourself all night long does just the job

he has a thing for you being on your knees for him, especially eye contact. he likes squeezing your checks and holding up your face to look at his regardless of how embarrassing it is for you because seeing how much of a mess you are is just what higuruma needs for him to cum in you!

you’ve had bath tub sex with him far too many times, with and without a suit on. the warm water while your bouncing on his dick is just what our overworked lawyer needs after a long day at work 😵‍💫

[diamonddaze01]

Full Throttle (ii)

pairing: ferrari driver!yoon jeonghan x journalist!reader chapter wc: 16.7K (dont look at me)genre: humor, fluff, angst, smut (?) au: f1 au (i am sorry i am a nerd abt this) rating: m (MINORS DNI)warnings: SLOW BURNNN. mentions of injuries, car crashes // unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), some nipple-play, vaguely (?) rough (?) sex, begging

PREQUELS: would highly recommend reading On the Record and Off the Record to gain some context into the relationship! This fic starts directly after the end of Off the Record 

a/n: ok pt 2 here we gooooo! to kae @ylangelegy , who hasn't read the ending of this because they wanted to be surprised. i love you, im sorry, i love you // to alta @haologram , who hyped me up so much and made me feel so much better about my writing // thank you to lola @monamipencil and haneul @chanranghaeys for beta-reading! // and finally, an ENORMOUS thank you to jupiter @cheolism for the banner!

read part 1 here.

FORMULA 1 PIRELLI GRAN PREMIO D’ITALIA 2024 Track: Autodromo Nazionale Monza

Monza, the Temple of Speed. The track that had seen countless legends, where every tire mark told a story of glory and heartache. The crowd—the tifosi—roared like a living entity, their chants filling the air, demanding greatness from Ferrari’s finest. It wasn’t just a race here, it was a pilgrimage. The heat of Italy in late summer mixed with the electric atmosphere of a home Grand Prix, and Jeonghan could feel it all—the energy, the expectation, the weight of a thousand eyes on him.

The Autodromo Nazionale Monza was a track built on speed, but more than that, it was a track built on history. The sweeping curves, the long straights, the iconic Parabolica that would make or break a driver—it was a place where only the brave thrived, and only the strongest survived. Jeonghan knew the stakes: it wasn’t enough to be fast, not when you were wearing Ferrari red. He had to win, not just for himself, but for the tifosi, who saw him as their golden boy. He had to deliver.

As the weekend progressed, he couldn’t escape the growing weight on his shoulders. His performance was scrutinized with every passing second. In the pits, the team’s eyes were on him, hoping for that perfect lap. The techs, the engineers, the strategists—all working in harmony, hoping that Jeonghan would be the one to pull them across the finish line, but in the back of his mind, Jeonghan kept hearing the unspoken truth: nothing less than pole would suffice. Anything less was a failure.

He felt his pulse quicken as the qualifying session wore on, his concentration laser-sharp, every move calculated. But the tire strategy wasn’t perfect, and as the final moments ticked down, the truth settled over him like a cloud of doom. He was not going to make Q3. Neither was Soonyoung. The agony of it slammed into him like a punch to the gut.

The Ferrari garage was quiet, save for the hum of the engines being powered down. Soonyoung clapped him on the shoulder, a small gesture, but Jeonghan could see the frustration in his eyes, the mirror of his own defeat. The disappointment felt like a heavy weight on Jeonghan’s chest, suffocating, and he couldn’t shake it off. He couldn’t even look at the team, let alone the tifosi waiting outside.

The mood around the paddock was tense as Jeonghan left the garage, still in his race suit. The world felt unreal, as though it were in slow motion. He couldn’t escape it. The tifosi would be waiting to cheer their heroes, but today, he hadn’t been the hero they wanted. He was just another failure in a sea of victories that had come before him. He needed to escape it, to clear his mind.

It was then, as he walked toward his motorhome, that he felt it—a small, electric connection. Your hand brushed against his.

He froze.

Your presence was like a balm, soothing the sharp sting of defeat, but it also distracted him. The familiar, intoxicating scent of your shampoo, something floral and faintly sweet, hit him like a memory, and his heart skipped a beat. That scent, mixed with the lingering tension of the day, flooded his senses. He couldn’t look at you, couldn’t form words. All he could think about was that fleeting moment—so close—and the ridiculous notion that he had never noticed how desperately he wanted to be closer to you.

You didn’t stop walking either, your movements fluid, confident. But he couldn’t help the way his eyes followed you, the way the tension built with every step.

Without a word, you both continued on, the space between you shrinking until you finally spoke. Your voice was soft, but there was an edge to it, something that told him you understood more than he let on.

“Tough luck out there,” you said, a hint of sympathy in your tone.

The words were simple, but they hit harder than he expected. His chest tightened as he swallowed. “It’s... whatever,” he muttered, trying to brush it off. He didn’t have the energy to care.

You glanced at his fist, clenched so tightly it was almost painful to watch. “Doesn’t seem like ‘whatever’ to me,” you countered, raising an eyebrow, your words cutting through the fog in his mind.

He let out a small, mirthless chuckle. “I’ll be fine,” he said, his voice more convincing than he felt. But even as he said it, he knew. He wouldn’t be fine—not until he had redeemed himself, not until he could prove to the world that he was still Ferrari’s shining star. He had to be.

But for now, there was a fleeting connection between the two of you, and it was the only thing that made his heart skip, even if just for a moment.

The race was an uphill battle from the start, as expected. Jeonghan’s starting position was far from ideal, and the track ahead was a maze of cars, each one blocking his path, each one a reminder of the high stakes. The pressure weighed on him heavily, like an invisible force that squeezed the air from his lungs. It wasn’t just about the race, it was about redemption. The tifosi—his tifosi—filled his mind with a deafening chant, a roar of expectation, as if they were willing victory into existence. The weight of their adoration and their demand for perfection followed him, a constant reminder of the legacy he carried.

But Jeonghan had never been one to back down. The track felt like an extension of himself, the tires gripping, the engine vibrating beneath him, urging him to push. Even with traffic clogging his way, he found openings. He fought for every inch of track, his movements sharp, instinctive, like a surgeon making precise cuts. Overtaking felt almost effortless—his car slipping through gaps with the grace of a dancer. He was fluid, controlled, never losing sight of the goal.

As the laps unfolded, his nerves sharpened, but so did his focus. The aggressive strategy that had been laid out for him was beginning to pay off. He was making up ground, inching forward, climbing the ladder of positions one battle at a time. The thought of the tifosi cheering, of their voices blending into one thunderous symphony, drove him. They believed in him. He had to deliver. His mind cleared. He no longer heard the roaring crowds, the whirling thoughts of doubt. All that mattered was the track, the tires, and the roar of the engine beneath him. The conditions became his advantage—he thrived in this chaos.

Through the speed-trap corners, Jeonghan carved his way through the field. The world outside the cockpit blurred into a haze, his focus narrowing into sharp precision. He saw every gap, every opportunity, and he seized them without hesitation. The rain had turned the race into a dance of risk and control, and Jeonghan was leading the waltz.

Crossing the finish line first, Jeonghan allowed himself a single moment of release. The victory wasn’t just for him—it was for Ferrari, for the tifosi, for everything that had been building in his chest since the first day he’d strapped into the car. He had done it. He had delivered.

The roar of the crowd felt like an affirmation of his own heart, beating in time with the cheers of thousands. In that moment, the weight lifted off him, replaced by an overwhelming surge of satisfaction and relief. He had proven himself once again, and it was more sweet than any victory lap could ever capture. The tifosi were wild, their cheers ringing through the air, a thunderous confirmation of what Jeonghan had already known in his heart: this was his race. This was his victory.

After the podium celebrations, the champagne-soaked cheers, and the endless barrage of media questions, Jeonghan finally managed to steal a moment of solitude. His body was spent, muscles aching, his throat raw from the adrenaline-fueled roar that had escaped him as he crossed the finish line. And yet, his mind wasn’t on the race anymore. Not on the points, not on the tifosi.

It was on you.

The fleeting brush of your hand earlier lingered like a phantom touch, a warmth that refused to fade even as the hours passed. The memory of your scent—the subtle floral notes of your shampoo—clung to him, more grounding than the overwhelming chaos of the Monza circuit.

He walked toward his motorhome, each step feeling heavier now that the adrenaline had begun to wane. The din of the paddock was fading, replaced by the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat in his ears. The glow of the overhead lights cast long shadows, and as he turned the corner, there you were. Waiting for him. Leaning casually against the side of his motorhome, your arms crossed and a knowing smirk dancing on your lips. His footsteps slowed as his eyes locked onto yours, the soft gleam of your smile both a challenge and an invitation.

“You’re late,” you teased, tilting your head in mock disapproval.

Jeonghan huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he approached. “Didn’t realize I was on a schedule.”

“You’re always on a schedule,” you shot back, your tone light but your gaze sharp. “Besides, I thought you’d be faster off track too.”

His smirk deepened as he stopped in front of you, close enough that the scent of champagne and adrenaline clung to him. “Big words for someone who’s hanging around my motorhome.”

“Big win for someone who barely made it out of Q2,” you quipped, the corner of your mouth twitching upward.

Jeonghan’s chuckle was low, almost indulgent. “Touché.”

There was a moment of silence, the din of the paddock fading into a distant hum. His eyes traced your face, noting the way your lashes cast faint shadows on your cheekbones, the way you seemed perfectly at ease under his scrutiny. That unnerved him more than he cared to admit. You’d always been too good at staying cool, keeping him on edge.

“So,” he finally said, leaning casually against the doorframe, “where’s your article? Shouldn’t it be out by now?”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh, you think I’m done? I’m holding out for an exclusive.”

Jeonghan’s grin widened, his ego soaking up your words. “An exclusive? From the tifosi’s god?”

Your laugh was soft, teasing, and it sent a warmth through his chest that rivaled the rush of the race. “Your words, not mine.”

“You want a headline that bad?” His voice dropped, his tone dipping into something darker, something that made the air between you shift.

“Maybe,” you replied, your voice steady despite the way he was looking at you now—like he was ready to devour you whole. “But you’d have to give me something worth writing about.”

It was playful, the banter you always shared, but there was something crackling beneath the surface tonight, an electricity neither of you could ignore. Jeonghan stepped closer, his presence swallowing the space between you. You shifted back instinctively, your spine meeting the cool surface of the motorhome door.

“You always have something to say, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low, intimate.

“Someone has to keep you grounded,” you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly as his hand braced against the door beside your head, caging you in. His other hand hovered near your hip, close enough to make you hyper-aware of the heat radiating off him.

“Grounded?” he repeated, his lips curling into a slow, predatory smile. “You’re doing a great job of that.”

Your heart was pounding now, the proximity, the tension—it was overwhelming. “Jeonghan,” you started, your voice quieter, more measured, “this… this isn’t professional.”

“Fuck being professional,” he said, the words slipping out like a confession. Before you could respond, his fingers tilted your jaw, firm but not rough, guiding you to look up at him.

And then his lips were on yours, capturing them in a kiss that was as fierce as it was unrelenting. It wasn’t sweet or tentative—it was raw, all the tension and frustration that had built up between you spilling over in a single, consuming moment. His hand slid to the nape of your neck, anchoring you to him as if he was afraid you might pull away.

But you didn’t. You kissed him back with equal fervor, your hands finding the front of his race suit, clutching the material as if to steady yourself. The world around you blurred into nothing; there was only the warmth of his mouth, the taste of him, the way he kissed like he was claiming something he’d wanted for far too long.

Jeonghan’s breath hitched as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours for something—confirmation, permission, anything. Whatever he found made him grin, wicked and hungry. Without a word, he reached for the door handle, pushing it open with a sharp motion. The door swung wide, and then his hands were on you again, pulling you inside. 

The door clicked shut behind you, plunging you both into the dim interior of the motorhome. Jeonghan's hands were everywhere at once, tracing the curve of your waist, sliding up your back, tangling in your hair. His lips found yours again, more urgent this time, as if he couldn't bear to be separated from you for even a moment.

You stumbled backward, your legs hitting the edge of the small couch. Jeonghan followed, never breaking contact, until you were lying beneath him, the leather cool against your heated skin. His weight pressed you down, a delicious pressure that made your head spin.

"God, I've wanted this for so long," he breathed against your neck, his words punctuated by hot, open-mouthed kisses that trailed down to your collarbone.

You arched into him, your hands fumbling with the zipper of his race suit. Your fingers trembled slightly as you tugged it down and yanked off his fireproofs, revealing more of his sweat-slicked skin. Jeonghan groaned against your throat as your hands slipped inside, exploring the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen.

"How long?" you managed to ask between ragged breaths, curiosity mingling with desire.

Jeonghan lifted his head, his eyes dark and intense as they locked onto yours. "Since the first time you interviewed me," he admitted, his voice low and husky. "The way you challenged me, saw right through my bullshit... I knew I was in trouble."

The confession sent a thrill through you, and you pulled him down for another searing kiss. Your tongues danced as his hands roamed your body, pushing up your shirt to caress the soft skin beneath. You gasped into his mouth as his thumb brushed the underside of your breast.

Your fingers curled into his hair, tugging gently as you deepened the kiss. Jeonghan groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. His hand slid lower, tracing the curve of your hip before gripping your thigh, hitching it up around his waist. 

“So what you’re saying,” you whispered, grinding your clothed cunt against him. “Is that you’ve been obsessed with me as long as I have with you.”

He drops his head and groans, hot and heavy, against your throat. “You’re telling me we could have been doing this for three years?”

You pull him back to your lips by his hair, relishing the way he hisses at your touch. “If only you’d put your money where your mouth is, pretty boy.”

At that, he props himself up above you, grinning like the cat that got the canary. “I knew you called me pretty in Japan!” 

You desperately claw at his shoulders in an attempt to bring his mouth back to yours. After three years of cat and mouse, you do believe you’re entitled to it. “Jeonghan, I swear to everything that is holy-”

“Say it.” His necklace hangs in front of you, glinting in the dim light of the motorhome. You have half a mind to crane your neck and take it with your teeth. But instead, you choose to stare up at him in mock confusion, fingers dancing at the nape of his neck. 

“Say what?”

His answering laugh mocks you a little, and he leans down to gently bite your earlobe. When he speaks, it’s low and deep. “Say I’m pretty. I know you think it when you’re drunk.”

You shiver at the sensation of his teeth grazing your ear, heat pooling in your core. His words make you flush, remembering all the times you'd drunkenly gushed about him to your friends. You'd always been careful to keep things professional in person, but apparently some of your true feelings had slipped out.

"And how would you know what I think when I'm drunk?" you challenge, trying to regain some control.

Jeonghan chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin. "You're not the only one with sources in the paddock, sweetheart."

The pet name sends another thrill through you. You decide to give him what he wants, if only to move things along. "Fine," you breathe, trailing your fingers down his chest. "You're pretty, Jeonghan. Gorgeous, actually. Happy now?"

His grin is triumphant as he captures your lips again, the kiss deep and consuming. "Ecstatic, darling," he murmurs against your mouth.

Your hands roam his body, tracing the lean muscles of his back, feeling them flex under your touch. Jeonghan's fingers dance along your sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He breaks the kiss to nip at your jaw, then your neck, drawing a soft moan from your lips.

"You know," he says between kisses, his voice low and husky, "I've imagined this so many times. On the couch in the media room, in the garage, during those long interviews..."

You gasp as he finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck. "Is that why you always fidget so much during our talks?"

He chuckles against your skin. "Guilty as charged."

Your hands find the waistband of his fireproofs, , but as one hand curls around your jaw, the other stops you. 

“You first,” he breathes, sitting back on his knees to gently urge you out of your shirt.

You lift your arms, allowing him to peel your shirt off slowly, his eyes drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin. The cool air of the motorhome raises goosebumps on your flesh, but Jeonghan's heated gaze makes you feel like you're burning up.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the lace edge of your bra. "Even better than I imagined."

You reach up to pull him back down to you, craving the warmth of his body against yours. As your lips meet again, his hands roam your sides, mapping out every curve and dip. You arch into his touch, desperate for more.

His hands brush over your clothed nipple, and you inhale sharply. The sound makes Jeonghan raise his head, a faint smirk dancing across his lips. “Sensitive, are we?” He coos, hands drawing shapes against the swell of your breasts until goosebumps erupt on your flesh.

Your breath hitches as his fingers tease you though the thin fabric of your bra. “Jeonghan,” you breathe, half-warning, half-plea.

His smirk widens as he lowers his head, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. "Yes, sweetheart?" He murmurs against your skin. His lips trail lower, ghosting over the lacework.

You arch your back, silently begging for more. Jeonghan obliges, his tongue darting out to trace the lace edge of your bra. Your hands find his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you hold him close.

With deft fingers, he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra. You lift slightly, allowing him to slide it off. His eyes darken as he takes you in. You moan wantonly, arching your back in an effort to touch you - somewhere, anywhere.

“Jeonghan, please-”

A singular finger traces the curve of your waist up to your collarbone. He hums as you squirm. “Look at you,” he murmurs. You shriek as he pinches your waist. “You act so big in the paddock, and here you are, begging for me to touch you.”

It enrages you a little, how easily he takes you apart. Hell, he’s barely even touched you and you’re already rubbing your thighs together, desperate for any amount of friction.

"Jeonghan, please," you gasp, not even sure what you're begging for. More? Less? Everything?

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours. The intensity in his gaze makes your breath catch. "Tell me what you want," he says, his voice low and commanding.

You swallow hard, and the heat pooling between your legs feels hot enough to burn. “Y-your-”

“My what, baby?” His words are punctuated by hot, open mouthed kisses against your collarbones. He pointedly ignores your nipples, a thought that makes you whine. “Speak up.”

“Your mouth, Jeonghan,” you finally get out, hissing when his teeth find purchase on the skin of your neck.

“Yeah? Where, baby?” His hands fit themselves against the curve of your waist. “Here?”

“N-no,” you hate it, the way Jeonghan turns you into a whimpering mess. You shiver as his hands trail up your body.

“Hm…how about…here?” His thumbs brush against the underside of your breast again, and you arch your back, desperate and aching for him.

“Higher,” you breathe, mesmerized by the way his fingers dance up your body, by the way his eyes never leave yours.

“Here, baby?” His fingers tweak an already-hard nipple, and you gasp.

“Yes, please-”

“Say I’m a good driver, sweetheart, and I’ll give you what you want.”

Your eyes snap open, narrowing at him in disbelief. Even now, with you half-naked and writhing beneath him, he can't help but tease. "You're kidding, right?"

Jeonghan's grin is wicked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Not at all. Come on, darling. Just a few little words."

You bite your lip, torn between your pride and your desperate need for his touch. His thumb circles your nipple lazily, sending jolts of pleasure through you. Finally, you cave. "Fine," you breathe. "You're a good driver, Jeonghan. The best, even. Now please—"

Before you can finish, his mouth is on your breast, hot and wet. You cry out, arching into him as his tongue swirls around your nipple. His hand kneads your other breast, fingers teasing your other nipple. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as he lavishes attention on your breasts. Jeonghan's tongue and teeth work in tandem, drawing gasps and moans from your lips. The sensations are overwhelming, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"God, Jeonghan," you breathe, your head falling back against the couch cushions.

He hums against your skin, the vibration sending another shiver through you. His free hand trails down your stomach, fingers dancing along the waistband of your pants. You lift your hips instinctively, silently begging for more.

Jeonghan lifts his head, his eyes dark with desire as they meet yours. "Tell me you want this," he says, his voice husky and low. "I need to hear you say it."

You nod frantically, your breath coming in short gasps. "Yes," you breathe, your voice filled with need. "I want this. I want you, Jeonghan."

His eyes darken further at your words, a low growl escaping his throat. In one swift motion, he unbuttons your pants and slides them down your legs, taking your underwear with them. You kick them off eagerly, now fully bare beneath him.

Jeonghan's gaze rakes over your body, hungry and appreciative. "Beautiful," he murmurs, his hands skimming up your thighs. "So fucking beautiful."

You reach for him, tugging at the fireproofs still clinging to his hips. "Your turn," you say, your voice breathy with anticipation.

He grins, standing to shuck off the rest of his clothes. Your eyes widen as he reveals himself fully, drinking in the sight of his toned body. Jeonghan's grin widened as he caught you staring. "Like what you see?" he teased, his voice low and husky.

You nod, unable to form words as your eyes roam his body. The lean muscles of his abdomen, the sharp cut of his hipbones, the impressive length of his cock standing proud against his stomach - it was all even better than you'd imagined.

He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?"

That snapped you out of your daze. "Shut up and get back here," you growl, reaching for him.

Jeonghan obliges, lowering himself back onto the couch and covering your body with his. You gasp at the feeling of skin on skin, the heat of his body against yours. His lips find yours in a searing kiss as his hands explore every curve and dip of your body. When his fingers finally brush against your core, you gasp into his mouth, your hips bucking involuntarily.

“So wet,” he murmurs against your lips. “All for me?”

"Yes," you breathe, your hips rolling against his hand. "All for you."

Jeonghan's fingers explore your folds, teasing and mapping out every sensitive spot. When he finally slides a finger inside you, you moan loudly, your back arching off the couch. He sets a slow, torturous pace, curling his finger just right to hit that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

"More," you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders. "Please, Jeonghan."

He obliges, adding a second finger and increasing his pace. His thumb finds your clit, circling it in tight, precise movements that have you writhing beneath him. You can feel the tension building in your core, a coiling heat that threatens to consume you. Your hands scramble for purchase against his shoulders – you’re too drunk on lust to recognize if you’re pushing him away because it’s too much or pulling him closer because it’s not nearly enough. 

"That's it, baby," Jeonghan murmurs, his voice low and encouraging. "Let go for me.”

His words push you over the edge, and you come with a cry, your body arching off the couch as waves of pleasure wash over you. Jeonghan works you through it, his fingers never stopping their relentless rhythm until you're trembling and oversensitive.

As you come down from your high, Jeonghan peppers soft kisses along your jaw and neck. "Beautiful," he murmurs against your skin. "You're so beautiful when you let go."

You're still catching your breath when you feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh. Your hand snakes between your bodies, wrapping around his cock. Jeonghan hisses at the contact, his hips jerking involuntarily.

"Fuck," he groans, his forehead resting against yours. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

"Show me," you breathe, thumb brushing over the tip of his pre-cum slick cock. You relish the way he shudders against you. “Show me everything you imagined, pretty boy.”

He preens a little at your teasing words, arms shaking with the exertion of keeping himself above you. “Yeah?” he purrs, hips bucking to the tempo of your hand. “You wanna see, sweetheart?”

You barely have the time to nod before he’s sweeping his arms under your thighs and sitting back against the couch, setting you on top of him. Your wet heat is inches from his weeping cock, and you give him an experimental roll of your hips. The friction is delicious, and you bite your lips at the way his head rolls back.

You take advantage of his position and press hot kisses against his neck as he squirms below you.

“This is what you wanted, baby?” you whisper against his ear, biting gently. He shudders, one arm circling your waist and the other finding purchase in your hair. “You wanted me on top? Me in control?” 

He laughs breathlessly at that, hips grinding against yours with such fervour that you almost succumb right then and there. “You might be on top, sweetheart,” he hisses as you position yourself above him, one hand circling his length. “But I’m the one in char-”

He cuts himself off with a strangled moan as you sink down until your hips are flush to his. “Hmmm?” You hum sweetly against his throat, exhaling at the sheer size of him inside you. “What was that?”

“Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back against the couch as his hands trail down to rest on the curve of your ass. “Move, please, sweetheart.” 

“Tell me how much you love my writing.” The words leave you in a rush, the sight of him panting for you almost too heady to ignore. You hadn’t planned on teasing him, but his earlier words had lit a fire in your core that would only be doused once you flipped the script on him. 

His head is still on the back of the couch as he barks out a laugh. “You’re a fucking menace,” he murmurs, pinching your waist. “Now, move.”

“No.” It takes every bone in your body to stay absolutely still. You can feel him, thick and throbbing, and the thought of it makes you almost forgo this insanity to ride him into oblivion.

His eyes meet yours, and he raises his eyebrows in mock outrage. “Are you serious?” He punctuates his words by dragging a hand down your body, fingers finding your clit and pressing until you jerk away from him. It’s a futile attempt though, because his other hand is still fisted in your hair, and he uses it as leverage to hold you against him, powerless against his ministrations. 

With a shaking hand, your press against his wrist until his fingers stop moving in circles around your clit. “C-come on,” you tease breathlessly, using your other hand to thread through his sweat-soaked hair and yanking until he bares his throat to you with a groan. “Play nice, pretty boy. Tell me how much you love my writing.” 

He groans again as you lick a stripe up his throat, the hand in your hair loosening as his resolve weakens. “Y-you don’t play fair,” he moans, legs shaking with the exertion of keeping still, of playing your little game of cat and mouse. 

“Neither do you,” you whisper, your words paired with a tweak to his nipple that has him gasping and arching his back. 

“Fuck!” He cries out, curling forward until his chin rests against your ribs and he’s staring up at you. “Y-your writing is perfect.”

He’s rewarded with another gentle tug on his hair and a firm, “keep going.”

“S-so perfect and wonderful, I – fuck, baby please – read every word th-three times,” he’s almost whimpering now, looking up at you with so much desire that you decide it’s time to reward him for being so pliant, so good for you. “You-you’re the best writer in the whole paddock, fuck, yes, thank yo-”

You decide to put him out of his misery, preening at his praise, you start with an experimental grind against his hips, and watch with glee as he almost melts back against the couch. You decide to take advantage of the situation for a little while longer, rocking your hips faster as his lips find your nipple.

“Who’s in charge?” you coo, fingers gripping his hair a little tighter. He draws back to give you a quick smirk. They don’t call him the fastest on the grid for nothing – one second, you feel like you’re in complete control, and the next, he’s lifting you off of him with surprising ease. Your chest meets the couch before you can even form a single thought, and Jeonghan gathers up your wrists in one of his hands. 

“You really thought,” he hisses as he re-enters your aching pussy. “You were in charge, sweetheart?”

The new angle allows him to sink even deeper inside you, drawing a low moan from your lips.

"You were saying?" he purrs, chest pressed against your back, his breath hot on your neck as he sets a punishing pace. Each thrust drives the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping and whimpering beneath him.

"You thought you could tease me like that and get away with it?" he groans, his free hand gripping your hip tightly. "Thought you could make me beg?"

You can only moan in response, overwhelmed by the sensation of him pounding into you relentlessly. The couch creaks beneath you dangerously.

"Answer me," Jeonghan demands, slowing his pace torturously.

"J-Jeonghan," you manage to stammer, your voice muffled against the cushions.

He leans over you, his chest pressed against your back as he whispers in your ear. "What was that, sweetheart? I couldn't quite hear you."

You turn your head, meeting his intense gaze over your shoulder. "Please," you whimper.

“Please what?” He demands.

"Please," you gasp, struggling to form coherent thoughts as Jeonghan's hips continue their torturously slow pace. "Please, I need more."

His low chuckle sends shivers down your spine. "More what, baby? Use your words. You’re so good with words, aren’t you?"

You whine in frustration, trying to push back against him, seeking the friction you desperately crave. But his grip on your hip is firm, holding you in place.

"Fuck me," you finally manage to choke out. "Please, Jeonghan, fuck me harder."

"There we go," he purrs, satisfaction evident in his voice. "Was that so hard?"

Before you can retort, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt inside you. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your fingers clawing at the couch cushions.

Jeonghan sets a punishing pace, each thrust driving you further into the couch cushions. The hand not holding your wrists snakes around to find your clit, rubbing tight circles that have you seeing stars.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Jeonghan groans, his breath hot against your neck. "So tight, so perfect for me."

You moan at his words, feeling the familiar coil of heat building in your core. "J-Jeonghan," you whimper, "I'm close..."

"That's it, baby," he encourages, his fingers working faster against your clit. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

Every part of your body is on fire, from the way Jeonghan's hips press against yours to the way his fingers expertly stroke your clit.

You come with a cry, your body shaking as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your inner walls clench around him, drawing a deep groan from Jeonghan.

He doesn't slow his pace, fucking you through your orgasm and pushing you towards another. You're oversensitive, every nerve ending on fire, but the pleasure is too intense to resist.

"God, you're perfect," Jeonghan pants, his rhythm becoming erratic. "So fucking perfect."

You feel his thrusts becoming more desperate, his breathing ragged against your neck. "Come on, Jeonghan," you manage to gasp out.

"Come for me," you urge him, clenching around him deliberately.

With a guttural groan, Jeonghan's hips stutter and he comes, spilling inside you as his body shudders with release. The feeling of him pulsing within you sends you over the edge again, and you cry out, trembling beneath him.

For a long moment, the only sound in the motorhome is your combined heavy breathing. Jeonghan releases your wrists and gently pulls out, causing you both to wince at the sensitivity. 

Jeonghan collapses onto the couch beside you, his body warm and solid as he pulls you into his arms. The weight of him, the feeling of his heartbeat drumming against your cheek, is grounding. You curl into his chest, letting the rise and fall of his breathing lull you into a rare moment of stillness. His fingers trace lazy patterns across your back, the movements unhurried, almost absentminded, as if he can’t bear to stop touching you just yet.

“Well,” he says finally, his voice rough and lower than usual, laced with satisfaction. “I think that was worth the wait.”

You huff a laugh, the sound barely audible over the soft thrum of life outside the motorhome. “Of course you do,” you mutter, your cheek pressed against the hard planes of his chest, which smells faintly of sweat, champagne, and something uniquely Jeonghan.

His fingers pause their tracing for a moment, as though considering his next move, before starting again, this time slower and more deliberate. “Admit it,” he murmurs, his tone teasing, though softer now, quieter, like the vulnerability from before hadn’t completely left. “You’ve been thinking about this as much as I have.”

You tilt your head up, catching the faint glow of the ceiling light reflected in his eyes. They’re darker now, warmer, but still full of that infuriating smugness. Your lips twitch in defiance as you fight the urge to smile. “What makes you so sure I was thinking about it at all?”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, a lock of hair falling across his forehead in a way that’s unfairly distracting. His grin is sharp and unrelenting. “You’re terrible at lying.”

“Am not,” you fire back, though your tone lacks any real conviction. The way his fingers continue their soft, languid exploration of your back doesn’t help.

“Okay,” he says, clearly enjoying himself as he leans his head back against the couch. “So when you cornered me after qualifying that one time in Japan two years ago, that wasn’t because you couldn’t stop staring at me in my race suit?”

You gape at him, your body jerking upright just enough to glare at him properly. “I cornered you because I wanted a quote, you egomaniac.” You punctuate the accusation with a half-hearted swat at his arm.

He catches your wrist easily, his grip firm but gentle, and intertwines his fingers with yours. The warmth of his hand against yours is distracting, and it takes all your willpower not to lose focus. “Oh, you got a quote, all right,” he counters, his laughter bubbling up like he’s savoring every second of your indignation. “Admit it—you’ve been counting the days.”

You roll your eyes, the movement dramatic, though the warmth blooming in your chest betrays you. “And if I was?”

Jeonghan’s grin softens at your words, the sharp edges smoothing out into something quieter, something vulnerable. He lifts a hand to your face, his fingers tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that makes your breath catch. “Then I’d say it was worth the wait,” he says, his voice lower now, more intimate.

The air between you shifts, heavier now, the teasing replaced by something else entirely. His gaze locks on yours, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades—the low hum of the paddock outside, the faint creak of the motorhome settling. All that exists is him, his hand still resting near your face, and the weight of his words hanging between you.

Your throat feels tight, and you clear it quickly, trying to shake off the spell he’s cast over you. “Don’t let it go to your head,” you mutter, shifting slightly to put some distance between you.

“Too late,” he replies with a ghost of a smirk, leaning back lazily against the couch. His arm stretches along the back of the cushions, the casual sprawl of his posture somehow making him seem even more confident. Then, with an easy grace that feels entirely unfair, he leans forward and plucks something from the coffee table. “By the way, your article? It’s still late.”

You blink at him, incredulous, before groaning and burying your face in your hands. “Now you care about professionalism?”

Jeonghan shrugs, holding out his hand as if offering you an invisible microphone, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Exclusive with the winner of Monza? Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

You peek at him through your fingers, shaking your head with a laugh that’s half exasperation, half affection. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he counters, his voice softening again as he leans forward to press a kiss to your temple. His lips linger there, warm and reassuring, before he pulls back just enough to look at you again. “But I’ll let you pretend for a little while.”

Jeonghan’s arms tighten around you as the laughter fades into a comfortable quiet. The warmth of his hand on your back and the steady rhythm of his breathing are grounding, but your thoughts won’t stop spinning. You tilt your head up to look at him, searching his expression for something you can’t quite name.

“What?” he asks softly, his tone warm but teasing. His fingers brush over the curve of your shoulder, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

“What… what are we now?” you ask, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. They hang in the air between you, vulnerable and raw.

Jeonghan’s gaze doesn’t waver. His thumb brushes your cheek with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. “We’re whatever you want to be, sweetheart,” he says simply, his voice low and full of something too deep to name.

You feel your heart stutter, the weight of his words sinking into you. “Can we…” You hesitate, the vulnerability of the moment making your voice falter. “Can we take it slow?”

For a second, he just blinks at you, and then the corners of his mouth lift into that infuriatingly familiar smirk. “Take it slow? After you just made me beg?” He chuckles, the sound soft but undeniably teasing. “You’re full of surprises.”

Your face heats instantly, and you swat at his shoulder, your embarrassment overridden by his smugness. “Shut up.”

Jeonghan catches your wrist before you can retreat, his laughter fading as he shifts closer, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m kidding,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. The mischief in his eyes melts into something gentler, something that makes your breath catch. “I’ll wait as long as you want.”

You glance at him, your walls crumbling under the weight of his sincerity. “It’s just…” You trail off, trying to find the right words, the weight of reality settling in around you. “Our careers, the season… It’s a lot. I don’t want to mess this up, not with everything else happening.”

Jeonghan’s expression softens even further, the teasing flicker in his eyes replaced by understanding. “I get it,” he says quietly. His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “I’ve waited three years to feel this close to you. What’s forever if it means I get to do it right?”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, equal parts devastating and beautiful. You close your eyes for a moment, letting them sink in, before leaning forward to press your lips to his—soft, brief, but full of everything you can’t quite bring yourself to say.

When you pull back, Jeonghan’s smile is softer than you’ve ever seen it, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he gazes at you like you’re the only thing in the world worth looking at.

“No pressure, though,” he adds after a beat, his teasing tone returning as his grin widens. “Unless you’re writing a follow-up article about me being the world’s most patient man.”

You groan, burying your face in his chest as he laughs, the sound rich and warm. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, but you love me for it,” he counters, his hand sliding back to your hair, cradling you close.

And maybe you do. Maybe you always have.

FORMULA 1 QATAR AIRWAYS AZERBAIJAN GRAND PRIX 2024 Track: Baku City Circuit

The streets of Baku were as much a character in the race as any driver—a stunning clash of history and modernity, where medieval walls stood beside glimmering skyscrapers. The track was notorious for its tight corners and long straights, a playground of risk and reward. Jeonghan knew every inch of it like it was an old rival, one he had to best to keep his championship hopes alive.

Qualifying was tight—Jeonghan secured P2, just behind Mingyu. "He’s fast," Jeonghan muttered to you that evening, the weight of the competition clear in his voice. But there was no self-doubt, just the quiet calculation that always preceded his brilliance.

Race day was a spectacle. Jeonghan’s precision through the castle section was breathtaking, and when the opportunity came to pass Mingyu on the long straight during the final stint, he didn’t hesitate. The roar of the tifosi—echoing even in Azerbaijan—followed him as he crossed the line first. The team’s radio had erupted with cheers as Jeonghan crossed the finish line, and when you saw him after the podium ceremony, his champagne-damp hair and triumphant smile had made your heart skip a beat.

Later, after the media frenzy, Jeonghan pulls you aside. "Come on," he says with a conspiratorial grin, grabbing your hand. "You didn’t think I’d let you leave Baku without exploring, did you?"

The cobblestone streets of Baku feel like something out of a postcard. The sun is just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the historic Old City. Jeonghan walks beside you, his hand occasionally brushing yours as he gestures to the buildings with a sense of wonder that’s rare to see in him.

“How do you know all this?” you ask, genuinely curious as he points out the Maiden Tower and recounts its legends with surprising accuracy.

He grins, tilting his head in that maddeningly charming way. “What, you thought I only studied race strategies? I’ve got layers, sweetheart.” He insists on taking cheesy tourist photos, including one where he pretends to be a knight defending you at the city walls.

“I could be your knight in shining armor,” he teases, holding his imaginary sword aloft.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re already Ferrari’s golden boy,” you shoot back, snapping the photo anyway. “Isn’t that enough?” 

He’s good at this—whisking you away from the chaos of the paddock and making you forget, even if just for a moment, that the world is watching him.

Now, as you wander the streets of Baku, he’s more relaxed, his usual playful demeanor slipping into something softer. You pause in front of a street vendor selling intricate souvenirs, and Jeonghan picks up a small, hand-carved wooden box.

“For your desk,” he says simply, handing it to you before you can protest.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but you take the gift anyway.

“Yeah, but you love me,” he teases, slinging an arm around your shoulders as the two of you continue down the street, the sound of distant music and laughter filling the warm night air.

That night, back at the hotel, Jeonghan skims your article on his phone while sprawled on the couch.

Jeonghan’s Baku Blitz: Closes the Gap to Mingyu with Stunning Victory

His smirk grows wider with every sentence. “Stunning victory, huh? You really know how to make me sound good.”

You roll your eyes, throwing a pillow at him. “It was stunning. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s too late for that,” he quips, pulling you into his lap. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the little shout-out to my late-braking move. Makes me wonder how closely you’re watching me.”

“Always,” you admit softly, the truth laced between your words. His grin softens, and he leans in to press a kiss to your temple.

FORMULA 1 SINGAPORE AIRLINES SINGAPORE GRAND PRIX 2024 Track: Marina Bay Street Circuit

The Marina Bay Circuit was infamous—its oppressive heat, humidity, and unforgiving corners made it a grueling test of endurance. It was Jeonghan’s least favorite track, something he’d muttered repeatedly during practice.

In qualifying, he delivered a masterclass, securing pole position under the glowing lights that lined the circuit. "See?" he said, leaning casually against his car afterward, sweat still dripping from his brow. "Guess the heat doesn’t bother me as much as I thought."  Watching him grin through post-quali interviews, drenched in sweat but radiating confidence, had you practically floating back to your hotel room.

You’ve barely ventured outside the hotel after qualifying, and he texts you cryptically to “stay put.” Now, the air conditioning hums softly as you sit cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through headlines about his performance. You’re still reading when the door swings open, and Jeonghan strides in, carrying a tray.

“Room service,” he announces with a dramatic flourish, setting it down beside you.

Your eyes widen at the sight of chocolate-covered strawberries and a chilled bottle of champagne. “What’s the occasion?”

He shrugs, popping the cork with practiced ease. “Pole position deserves a celebration. Plus…” He smirks, holding up a strawberry. “I wanted to see you smile.”

You laugh, shaking your head as he moves closer, offering the berry. But when you reach for it, he pulls it back, dragging it over your lips instead, smearing chocolate at the corner of your mouth.

“You missed a spot,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss it away. The sweetness lingers on his lips, and before you know it, he’s pulled you into his lap, the rest of the world forgotten.

The race the next day is less triumphant. A perfectly timed pit stop keeps Jeonghan ahead of the pack for most of the race, but a late safety car allows another driver to close the gap, relegating him to P2. Still, with Mingyu out of the race, Jeonghan’s second-place finish is enough to reclaim the championship lead.

Jeonghan’s expression is unreadable when he reads your latest article:

Heat and Havoc in Singapore: Jeonghan Takes Second as Mingyu Crashes Out

“Well, at least you didn’t call me lucky,” he says finally, leaning back in his chair.

“You weren’t lucky. You earned that result,” you reply, watching his face carefully.

He hums, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Still. Next time, I’d rather win outright.”

FALL BREAK: SEPT 23-OCT 17

The crisp autumn air brushes against your face as you unlock your front door, arms full of groceries. It’s been a quiet few weeks since Singapore, the space between races stretching out like an eternity. You’ve tried to enjoy the pause, but it feels strange—unnatural, even—to be so far removed from the whirlwind of Jeonghan’s life.

Your thoughts drift to him as you drop the keys on the counter. Monaco. Ferrari’s headquarters in Maranello. Both places are worlds away from your little apartment.

You’re unloading a carton of eggs when there’s a knock at the door. Confused, you glance at the clock. It’s too late for deliveries and far too early for your neighbors to come by.

When you open the door, your heart stops.

Jeonghan stands there, his frame relaxed yet somehow magnetic. He’s dressed in a simple leather jacket and jeans, his dark hair catching the golden glow of the setting sun. A bouquet of your favorite flowers is clutched in one hand, their vibrant colors almost as captivating as the smile tugging at his lips.

“Jeonghan?” you ask, blinking in disbelief. “What are you—how—”

“Miss me?” he interrupts, stepping inside before you can fully process his presence. He hands you the flowers like it’s the most natural thing in the world, leaning in to press a quick kiss against your lips.

Your breath catches, and you can only stare at him, your mind struggling to keep up.

“You live in Monaco,” you point out, still staring at him. “And work in Italy.”

“I’m aware,” he says, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Of course, I missed you,” you murmur, your cheeks heating.

“Good.” He grins and takes your free hand, tugging you toward the door.

“Wait—where are we going?”

“Out,” he says simply.

You try to protest, gesturing to the groceries still sitting on the counter, but he’s already leading you down the hallway. His excitement is infectious, and you find yourself laughing despite your confusion.

An hour later, you’re standing at the entrance of a sprawling amusement park, the neon lights casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the evening sky.

“You’re serious?” you ask, staring at the carousel spinning lazily in the distance.

“Dead serious,” Jeonghan replies, his tone light as he hands over your ticket. “I figured you could use a night off.”

“I’m not the one traveling the world every other week,” you point out.

“Exactly,” he counters, his smile growing. “I needed to see you smile. And this seemed like a good place to start.”

The night unfolds in a blur of laughter and adrenaline. Jeonghan, surprisingly competitive, insists on winning you a giant stuffed bear at the ring toss, only to fail spectacularly—twice. You tease him mercilessly, your stomach aching from how hard you’re laughing.

When you step off the bumper cars, your cheeks are flushed, and your voice is hoarse from yelling. Jeonghan is no better, his hair sticking up in all directions after you gleefully rammed into him three times in a row.

“I think you’ve got a mean streak,” he says, pretending to nurse an invisible injury.

“Me?” you gasp, feigning innocence. “You literally tried to corner me!”

He doesn’t respond—at least, not verbally. Instead, he grabs your hand again, intertwining your fingers as he pulls you toward the Ferris wheel.

The view from the top is breathtaking. The park stretches out below you, a sea of lights and movement, while the city skyline glimmers in the distance.

Jeonghan is quiet beside you, his gaze fixed on your face instead of the view. You turn to him, suddenly aware of how close he’s sitting.

“What?” you ask softly.

“You’re happy,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I like seeing you like this.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that steals your breath. It’s slow and deliberate, his hand moving to cradle your jaw as the world around you seems to fall away.

When he pulls back, you’re both smiling.

“This is dangerous,” you tease, though your voice is barely above a whisper. “You’re going to make me think nothing can go wrong.”

“Maybe nothing will,” he replies, his forehead resting gently against yours.

FORMULA 1 PIRELLI UNITED STATES GRAND PRIX 2024 Track: Circuit of the Americas

Austin brought a different kind of challenge. The Circuit of the Americas was iconic for its mix of sweeping corners, elevation changes, and a crowd that rivaled the tifosi in their enthusiasm. Jeonghan thrived here, securing P1 in qualifying and delivering a flawless race to claim another victory.

"Two wins in three races," he said that evening, pulling you into his side as you walked into a cowboy-themed bar downtown. "Guess I’m on a roll."

The bar was loud, filled with locals and fans alike, but Jeonghan stood out effortlessly. His cowboy hat tilted just right, a plaid shirt unbuttoned enough to make you wonder how he managed to look like that after hours in a car.

He kept his hand in your back pocket all night, his touch a silent claim when no one was looking. Every time he leaned in to murmur something in your ear, his lips brushed your skin just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy," he whispered at one point, his grin wicked as he tipped his hat at you.

That was all it took. You dragged him back to the hotel, barely making it through the door before he was on you, the hat ending up on the floor somewhere between the bed and the door.

The article you write the next day earns a rare whistle of approval from Jeonghan:

Cowboy Jeonghan Rides High in Austin, Extends Championship Lead

“I think this might be your best one yet,” he says, setting the phone down as he pulls you into his lap.

“Because I complimented you, or because I called you a cowboy?”

“Both,” he answers, his lips brushing against yours. “You know how much I love it when you’re right.”

And as his hand slides to the small of your back, you can’t help but think this season isn’t just his championship—it’s yours, too.

FORMULA 1 GRAN PREMIO DE LA CIUDAD DE MÉXICO 2024 Track: Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez

The atmosphere at the Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez crackles with energy even hours after the race ends. The stands have mostly cleared, but the celebratory chaos of the paddock lingers. Jeonghan, fresh off another stellar performance, grins as reporters crowd around him, microphones extended like offerings. His hair is damp with sweat, his race suit tied around his waist as he leans casually against the Ferrari garage.

You watch from a distance, notebook in hand, trying not to let your gaze linger too long. He catches your eye anyway, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He’s been calling you his “lucky charm” ever since you started waking up in his bed on race mornings, and it’s a moniker he seems to enjoy reminding you of at every opportunity.

"Don't go too far," he says when the interviews wrap up, his voice low as he brushes past you on his way to the motorhome. The warmth of his fingertips grazing your wrist sends a jolt of electricity through you. "We’re celebrating tonight, and you’re not wriggling out of it this time."

You don’t see the ambush coming.

You’re reviewing your notes in the quiet corner of the paddock when your editor finds you. His expression is stern, almost irate, as he approaches. The celebration around you suddenly feels muffled, the weight of his presence pulling you back to reality.

"Finally," he snaps, crossing his arms. "I’ve been trying to get hold of you for days."

"Hey, sorry, it’s been hectic," you start, tucking your notebook under your arm.

He doesn’t let you finish. "Hectic? I gave you the Ferrari all-access months ago. They’re breathing down my neck about where the hell it is. Where’s the draft?"

The question lands like a punch to the gut. You open your mouth, fumbling for an answer, but he’s already barreling forward.

"And don’t think I haven’t noticed your tone shift," he continues, his voice lowering but losing none of its edge. "All this newfound niceness toward Jeonghan in your articles. What’s that about, huh? You sleeping with him or something?"

The accusation slices through you, leaving you momentarily stunned.

"That’s not—" you begin, but your voice falters.

"Spare me," he says, waving you off. "I don’t care what’s going on between you two, but I do care about the reputation of this outlet. You’ve built your career on being incisive, unbiased. So get it together, or I’ll find someone who can."

He doesn’t wait for a response, leaving you standing there as the din of the paddock swells around you. The celebration feels distant now, muffled by the blood rushing in your ears.

When Jeonghan finally finds you later that night, you’re a bundle of frayed nerves. The confrontation with your editor replays in your head like a broken record, each word cutting deeper into your carefully constructed sense of self. You sit hunched over your laptop in the corner of the media center, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows that match the knot in your chest.

“What, you sleeping with him or something?”

The accusation echoes, burrowing into your mind, where it tangles with your own insecurities. You’ve built your entire career on being sharp, unbiased, and unflinchingly honest. And yet, somewhere along the way, Jeonghan had slipped through your defenses. You can still hear the venom in your editor’s voice, feel the judgment in his eyes. The doubt wasn’t just his anymore—it was yours, too.

Was he right? Had you compromised everything for Jeonghan?

Your hands tremble slightly as you scroll through the notes you’ve been trying to organize for hours, but the words blur together, useless. Guilt presses against your ribs like a vice, mixing with a raw ache of something you’re too scared to name. You’re drowning in your own thoughts, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve let everyone down: your editor, your readers, and most of all, Jeonghan.

When he finally appears, his presence fills the doorway like a shadow cutting through the sterile light. He leans against the doorframe with a casualness you can’t match, arms crossed and head tilted slightly, his damp hair still clinging to his forehead. The sight of him, so familiar and yet suddenly so distant, sends a pang through your chest.

“Working late?” he asks, his voice low but carrying the faint edge of concern.

You look up, startled, and quickly shut your laptop as if that might erase everything weighing on you. “Just...catching up,” you say, forcing a smile that feels as flimsy as the excuse.

Jeonghan doesn’t move, his eyes scanning you with the precision of someone who knows you too well. He doesn’t buy the act—you can tell by the way his brows knit together, a subtle but telling sign of his worry.

“Catching up on what?” he asks, stepping closer, his tone light but probing.

You shrug, trying to sound casual. “Just notes. Articles. The usual.”

His gaze sharpens. “Right. And that’s why you look like you haven’t breathed in hours?”

You glance away, your fingers curling into fists on the tabletop. “I’m fine, Jeonghan. Go enjoy your win. You earned it.”

“And what, leave you like this?” He pulls out a chair and sits across from you, resting his arms on the table. “Not happening.”

The flood of emotions bubbling under your surface threatens to spill over. You want to tell him everything, but the words feel too tangled, too raw.

“I just need to get this done,” you say, your voice tight.

Jeonghan frowns, studying you more closely. "What’s going on? Did something happen?"

"Nothing," you say quickly, sidestepping him. "I just need some space tonight, okay?"

His hand brushes your arm, but you pull away, and the confusion in his eyes makes your stomach twist. "Fine," he says after a moment, his voice quieter now. "If that’s what you want."

Jeonghan wakes up to sunlight filtering through the blinds, but the bed feels empty. The cool sheets where you usually sleep tug at his attention before he fully registers the weight in his chest. Frowning, he rolls over and reaches for his phone on the nightstand, still groggy.

The screen lights up with a mess of notifications: congratulatory texts, memes from Soonyoung, and a dozen links to your latest article. He swipes through the chaos with a faint smile, already anticipating your sharp insights mingled with the familiar affection that’s always laced through your critiques.

Propping himself up against the headboard, Jeonghan opens the piece. At first, the smile lingers—he’s grown to appreciate the balance you strike between honest criticism and admiration. But the further he reads, the slower he scrolls, the words pressing into him like bruises.

His smile fades entirely by the time he reaches the paragraph describing his meltdown in Spain. The words cut too close, dragging him back to that moment in the Aston Martin garage: the oppressive silence, the rain hammering against the roof, and the suffocating realization of yet another missed opportunity.

"Jeonghan’s brilliance is undeniable, but brilliance without consistency leaves championships just out of reach."

The sentence burns itself into his mind. The carefully chosen words feel clinical, detached—so unlike you. He rereads it, hoping to find the warmth he’s come to expect, but it’s nowhere to be found.

Jeonghan tosses his phone onto the bed and stares at the ceiling, disbelief simmering into anger. This wasn’t just an article. This was personal.

The paddock is bustling, teams dismantling their motorhomes to get ready for next weekend. Jeonghan doesn’t bother changing out of his sweats before leaving his room, each step through the maze of hospitality suites and garages fueled by frustration.

When he finally reaches the media center, his chest tightens at the sight of you hunched over your laptop, headphones in, oblivious to his stormy approach. He doesn’t hesitate.

"You want to tell me what the hell that was?" His voice slices through the low hum of conversations around you.

Startled, you pull off your headphones, your eyes widening as you take him in. "Jeonghan—"

"No." He slaps his phone onto the desk in front of you, his movements sharp and deliberate. The article stares back at you, a glaring reminder of the wedge you’ve driven between you. "Don’t ‘Jeonghan’ me. What is this?"

"It’s my job," you say, standing to meet his intensity. The tremor in your voice betrays your composure. "You’ve always said you respected that about me."

"Respect?" His laugh is sharp, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes. "You think I respect this?" He gestures to the article like it’s a living thing, something venomous and cruel. "You went for my throat."

"I didn’t go for your throat," you argue, though your voice cracks at the edges. "I wrote the truth."

"The truth?" His hands ball into fists at his sides. "You think I don’t know when you’re pulling punches? You tore me apart for no reason."

"You’ve been avoiding media days. You had a meltdown in Spain," you fire back, your tone rising as your frustration bubbles to the surface. "Those are facts, Jeonghan."

"You didn’t have to highlight them," he counters, his voice quieter but no less cutting. "You know how much this season means to me."

"And do you think this was easy for me?" you ask, tears pricking at your eyes. "Do you think I wanted to write that?"

"Then why did you?" His voice softens, the anger slipping to reveal something raw and vulnerable. "Why would you do that to me?"

"Because I had to!" The words explode out of you, breaking the fragile tension. "Because people already think I’m biased. That I’ve gone soft. That I’m compromised because of you."

The weight of your confession hangs in the air, pressing down on both of you. Jeonghan’s face shifts, the fury giving way to something heavier—hurt, confusion, disappointment.

"I never asked you to compromise anything for me," he says quietly, his voice thick. "I never would."

You look away, your gaze falling to the floor. "I know. But this isn’t just about you. It’s about my career. My integrity."

"And what about us?" he asks, his voice breaking slightly. "Where does that leave us?"

You have no answer, the words lodged in your throat. The silence stretches, broken only by the faint hum of activity outside the room.

Finally, Jeonghan exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I can’t do this right now," he mutters, taking a step back. "I need...I need to get out of here."

Jeonghan finds himself at the bar later that evening, the neon lights washing over him in hazy blues and reds. The whiskey in his glass is halfway gone before Soonyoung slides onto the stool next to him, his arrival quiet but not unnoticed.

"You look like shit," Soonyoung says, his tone light despite the obvious concern in his eyes.

"Thanks," Jeonghan mutters, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

They sit in silence for a moment before Soonyoung breaks it. "Want to talk about it?"

Jeonghan stares at his drink, the ice melting faster than he can keep up with. "I don’t know what we’re doing anymore," he admits, the words coming out heavier than he expected. "Me and her."

Soonyoung hums thoughtfully, taking a slow sip of his drink. "You two have always been complicated."

Jeonghan huffs out a humorless laugh. "That’s one way to put it."

"But," Soonyoung says, setting his glass down, "you’ve also always figured it out."

Jeonghan doesn’t respond, his thoughts a tangled mess of frustration and longing.

"You’re not going to fix it tonight," Soonyoung continues, his voice quieter now. "But if it matters—and I know it does—you’ll find a way. Just...don’t wait too long, yeah?"

Jeonghan nods slowly, the whiskey burning on its way down. Soonyoung’s words linger, a reminder of what he already knows but isn’t ready to face.

Not yet.

FORMULA 1 LENOVO GRANDE PRÊMIO DE SÃO PAULO 2024 Track: Autódromo José Carlos Pace

The rain is relentless in São Paulo, hammering down on the paddock and turning the atmosphere into a chaotic mess of drenched personnel and frayed nerves. Qualifying has been suspended indefinitely, the downpour rendering the track undriveable, and the mood in the Ferrari garage is grim. The asphalt glistens under the floodlights, reflecting streaks of color from team banners and sponsor logos. It feels like the world is holding its breath. 

You’ve never liked rain. It has a way of amplifying what’s already simmering under the surface, and today is no exception. Your heart pounds as you weave through the maze of garages, dodging puddles and sidelong glances from team members. You know exactly where he’ll be—Jeonghan never strays far from the Ferrari setup, even when there’s nothing to do but wait.

Sure enough, there he is. Sitting on the edge of a workbench, his race suit unzipped to his waist and his damp undershirt clinging to his torso. His head is bowed, one hand gripping the edge of the bench while the other pushes wet strands of hair back from his forehead. He looks exhausted—physically, emotionally—but the moment your shoes scuff against the concrete floor, his eyes snap up to meet yours.

You’ve been blowing up his phone all week. Texts, calls, voice notes—all unanswered or met with cold, clipped replies.

"Jeonghan," you start, the sound of your voice barely carrying over the rain pelting the garage roof.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t smile. "What are you doing here?"

The coldness in his tone sends a shiver down your spine, but you force yourself to step closer. "I could ask you the same thing."

His laugh is short, bitter. "Why are you surprised? This is where I always am."

"Don’t do that," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "Don’t act like this is normal. You’ve been ignoring me for weeks."

"I haven’t been ignoring you," he snaps, pushing off the bench. He stands tall now, towering over you, his hands resting on his hips. "I’ve been busy."

"Busy?" You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "You call one-word replies busy? Jeonghan, I’ve been calling and texting nonstop, and you’ve barely said anything to me."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he says nothing. The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the distant clatter of tools being packed away. Finally, he exhales sharply, running a hand through his damp hair again.

"Maybe I’m tired," he says, his voice quieter but no less sharp. "Maybe I’m sick of pretending everything’s fine when it’s not."

Your heart twists at the admission, but you push it aside. "What’s not fine? Tell me, Jeonghan. Because I don’t understand why you’re shutting me out."

He shakes his head, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. "You don’t understand?" His voice rises, cracking with the weight of his frustration. "How could you not? You tore me apart in that article like I was just another driver. Like I meant nothing to you."

"It’s my job," you argue, but the words sound weak even to your ears.

"Your job?" he repeats, throwing his arms up. "You mean the job where you’re supposed to be unbiased? Yeah, I’ve noticed how ‘unbiased’ you’ve been lately. Especially when it comes to me."

"That’s not fair," you shoot back, taking a step closer. "You know I’ve always tried to be honest—"

"Honest?" He laughs, the sound bitter and hollow. "You call dragging my worst moments into the spotlight honest? You didn’t write about me; you dissected me. Like I was nothing more than a story."

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let him see how much his words cut. "I didn’t mean to hurt you."

"But you did," he says, his voice softening but losing none of its edge. "And now I don’t even know where we stand."

"We stand..." You falter, your throat tightening. "We stand where we’ve always stood. I care about you, Jeonghan. But this is complicated."

He steps closer, his eyes searching yours. "It doesn’t have to be. It’s only complicated because you’re making it that way."

You look away, unable to hold his gaze. "You don’t understand what this means for me. For my career. For the season."

"And what about me?" he presses, his voice breaking. "What about what this means for us?"

The weight of his words hangs between you, heavy and suffocating. You take a shaky step back, the sound of the rain growing louder in the silence. "Maybe I should go," you whisper, turning toward the garage entrance.

"Don’t," he says sharply, and before you can take another step, his hand wraps around your wrist. “Don’t walk away from me.”

You barely have time to register the movement before he’s pulling you back, his other hand cupping your face as his lips crash against yours. The rain spills into the garage, soaking you both as his kiss deepens, desperate and unyielding. His hands slide to your waist, holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead presses against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "I won’t give you up," he whispers, his voice raw. "But I need you to choose."

"Jeonghan..." Your voice trembles, but he cuts you off.

"You love me," he says, his hands cupping your face. "Yes or no."

You hesitate, the weight of his question pressing down on you like the storm outside.

"Come on, sweetheart," he pleads, his voice cracking. "Don’t make me beg."

"I’m scared," you admit finally, your voice breaking. "Scared of losing myself. Of losing everything I’ve worked for."

He exhales shakily, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Are you willing to lose me to keep writing?"

"I..." The words catch in your throat, the truth slipping through your fingers. "I don’t know."

His hands drop to his sides, and he takes a step back, the distance between you like a chasm. "When you decide," he says quietly, his voice heavy with resignation, "give me a call."

The rain clears just in time for Sunday’s race, and Jeonghan is unstoppable. He weaves through the slick track with the precision and grace that made him a legend, crossing the finish line first and extending his lead in the championship.

But you’re not there to celebrate with him.

You watch from the media center, your chest tight as the cameras capture his triumphant smile. But there’s a hollowness in his expression, a flicker of something unspoken as he scans the crowd for someone who isn’t there.

The post-race interviews blur together, and even as you type up your article, the words feel lifeless. Without him beside you, the hotel room feels cold and sterile, the thrill of the race dulled by the ache in your chest.

The days leading up to the Las Vegas Grand Prix are a haze of press releases and anticipation. Jeonghan is one race away from becoming a world champion, but all you can think about is the sound of his voice, the warmth of his touch, the way he looked at you under the floodlights.

Your editor calls to praise your latest pieces, but the compliments feel hollow. The articles are polished and professional, but they lack the spark you used to feel when writing about him.

You glance at your phone, your thumb hovering over Jeonghan’s name. You haven’t called. Haven’t texted. Haven’t dared to.

Because the truth is, you’re terrified. 

Terrified of losing yourself. 

But even more terrified of losing him.

FORMULA 1 HEINEKEN SILVER LAS VEGAS GRAND PRIX 2024 Track: Las Vegas Strip Circuit

The sun sets over Las Vegas in a haze of neon and desert dust, the city already buzzing with anticipation for the final race of the season. But in the paddock, the air is electric for all the wrong reasons.

Jeonghan crashes out in Q3.

Your eyes are glued to the screen as Jeonghan’s car slides violently into the barriers, the sharp sound of the impact slicing through the usual hum of commentary. Gasps ripple through the room, but your stomach lurches with something deeper than professional concern. 

You’re in the media center when it happens, staring at the screen as his time locks in. The commentators speculate, the other journalists start drafting headlines, but you can’t hear a word of it. Your heart is already in free fall, and you don’t breathe again until he climbs out of the car, his hands held up in frustration as he waves off the medics.

P8. A disastrous result for the race that could make—or break—his championship. It might as well be the end of the world. 

The room erupts into murmurs as analysts speculate on strategy and rival team fans cheer, but you barely hear them. Your editor sidles up to your desk, his grin practically gleaming in the fluorescent light.

"Well, well," he says, leaning over your shoulder. "Looks like we’ve got our headline for tomorrow. ‘Jeonghan’s Championship Dream in Tatters.’ Perfect angle to dissect his mistakes, maybe even his cocky attitude catching up with him—"

His words fade into the background as something clicks inside you. Every fiber of your being recoils at the thought of reducing Jeonghan—your Jeonghan—to nothing more than a headline. You love writing, yes, but this? This isn’t writing. This is tearing apart the one person who matters most to you, all for clicks and ad revenue.

Without thinking, you swivel in your chair, fixing your editor with a glare so sharp it silences him mid-sentence. "This is my two weeks’ notice."

He blinks, taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." You stand, grabbing your bag and laptop. "I’m done."

Before he can argue, you’re already out the door, leaving behind the cacophony of keyboards and camera flashes. The paddock is chaos as you weave through the throngs of team personnel and fans, your heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and urgency.

You run.

The Ferrari garage is chaos. Engineers scramble to pack up the car, Jeonghan’s manager barks into his phone, and his publicist looks ready to faint. You push your way through it all, ignoring the glares and the shouted protests.

“He doesn’t want to see anyone right now,” Soonyoung says, stepping in front of you as you approach the motorhome.

“I don’t care,” you snap, shoving past him.

The motorhome is empty.

For a moment, you’re frozen, your chest heaving as you glance around the pristine space. The stillness only amplifies your worry. And then it hits you, like a sudden gust of wind: you know exactly where he is.

You sprint again, your heartbeat pounding louder than the chaos of the paddock behind you. The world blurs into streaks of neon lights, the hum of distant conversations, and the faint roar of engines being powered down for the night. The grandstands loom ahead, their cold metal steps stretching upward like an impossible climb. Each step burns in your legs, your breath coming in shallow gasps, but you don’t let up.

You don’t stop until you see him.

Jeonghan sits alone, halfway up the grandstands, his figure slouched as though the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders. The floodlights bathe him in a pale glow, illuminating the soft curve of his profile, his hair catching the light in strands of gold. His head is tilted back, eyes fixed on the track below as if searching for answers in the lines he couldn’t master tonight. A half-finished beer dangles loosely from his fingertips, the bottle swaying slightly with every small movement. Beside him, another bottle sits untouched, condensation pooling on the aluminum seat beneath it.

Waiting.

You take the last steps slowly, your chest tightening as your breathing evens out. Up close, his exhaustion is palpable—dark shadows under his eyes, his usual sharp features softened by an unfamiliar vulnerability.

“I knew you’d come,” he says without looking at you, breaking the silence. His voice is soft, but it carries a weight that settles heavily in your chest. He doesn’t even look at you, his gaze still fixed somewhere far ahead, lost in thought.

You hover for a moment before lowering yourself into the seat beside him. The cold aluminum seeps through your jeans, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your own skin after the sprint. Jeonghan doesn’t move, doesn’t turn toward you, and the distance between you feels like a chasm.

“Jeonghan...” you start, your voice hesitant, but he cuts you off with a bitter laugh.

“This is what happens when my lucky charm leaves me,” he mutters, a sad smile curling at the edges of his lips. His tone is light, but it does nothing to hide the ache in his words. He takes a slow sip of his beer, the motion unhurried.

You glance at the track, the sharp turns and straightaways now cloaked in shadows. “It’s not your fault,” you say softly, your hand reaching out to brush his arm. He flinches at the contact, his muscles tense beneath your touch, but he doesn’t pull away.

“P8 doesn’t mean it’s over.”

This time, he turns to look at you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. The raw vulnerability there makes your chest tighten further. His voice is quieter now, almost fragile. “You don’t get it,” he murmurs, shaking his head as his gaze drops to the beer bottle in his hand. “This race... it’s everything. If I win, I’m a champion. If I don’t...” He trails off, his words hanging in the air between you.

“I’m scared, Y/N.” His voice cracks, and the sound is almost unbearable. “Scared of all of it. The pressure, the expectations... losing.”

You stare at him, the usually unshakable Jeonghan, the Golden Boy, the Ferrari God, unraveling before you. Your hands move without thinking, cupping his face and tilting his chin so he’s forced to meet your gaze again. His skin is warm beneath your palms, a faint flush from the alcohol—or maybe the stress—lingering across his cheeks.

“Jeonghan,” you say, your voice steady despite the storm in your chest. You press your forehead against his, your breath mingling with his as you close the distance between you. “You love me. Yes or no.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. And then his hands come up to grip your wrists, his touch firm but trembling. “Yes,” he whispers, the word spilling from his lips without hesitation, raw and resolute. His voice shakes, but his eyes hold yours, steady and certain despite the tears brimming there.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you lean in, your lips brushing against his forehead in a feather-light kiss. “Good,” you whisper, the word carrying a quiet strength. “You’ll always have me.”

His grip on your wrists loosens, his expression shifting to something between confusion and hope. “But your job... your writing?”

“I’m quitting,” you say simply, letting the words hang for a moment. You watch the shock bloom across his face, his eyebrows shooting up as he sits back slightly, pulling your hands with him.

“You’re what?”

You laugh softly, brushing your thumb against his cheek as if to soothe him. “Not writing, idiot,” you tease gently. “I’m still going to write. But I’m not writing for any organization that profits off me tearing the man I love to shreds.”

His lips part, but no words come. He blinks rapidly, trying to process, and you take the opportunity to continue.

“Besides,” you add, your voice lighter now, “Sky Sports has been trying to recruit me for an on-air job for almost a year now.”

He stares at you, his gaze searching your face for any hint of doubt or regret. Finally, his voice comes, soft and uncertain. “You love me?”

The corners of your mouth lift into a playful smile, and you raise an eyebrow. “Is that what you decide to focus on?”

“Y/N,” he says again, his voice dropping to a whisper, almost desperate. His hands move to clasp yours, his fingers lacing through yours as if afraid you’ll slip away. “Do you love me?”

You answer with action, leaning in and capturing his lips in a quick, tender kiss. His breath hitches, his fingers tightening around yours. “Win tomorrow, golden boy,” you whisper, your lips brushing his as you speak. “And I’ll tell you my answer.”

For the first time that night, Jeonghan smiles—a real, genuine smile that reaches his eyes and softens the tension in his face. And in that moment, as the world fades to just the two of you under the floodlights, you know he’s already won.

Jeonghan is going to lose.

He’s sure of it.

The car feels like it’s fighting him at every turn, the tires slipping just slightly when he needs them to grip, the brakes locking up when he’s trying to conserve them for the final laps. His body aches from the sheer force of the race—the g-forces on the corners, the strain in his neck, the tension in his hands from gripping the wheel too hard.

The numbers on his dashboard blur together, his mind a muddled mess of strategies, tire temps, and sector times. He’s made up four places since the chaotic start and sits in P4 now, but every gain feels like a herculean effort. Every corner feels like it could be his last.

He slams the steering wheel in frustration as he exits another turn slower than he should, the car wobbling slightly under him. “This isn’t working,” he growls into the radio, his voice clipped and strained.

His engineer’s calm voice filters through the crackling static. “We know, Jeonghan. Stay focused. We believe in you.”

Jeonghan clenches his teeth, a biting retort forming on his tongue, but before he can spit it out, the radio crackles again.

“Your girl is here. In the garage. She’s watching.”

“What the fuck?” The words come out before he can stop them, his tone incredulous.

“Soonyoung wanted to surprise you,” his engineer explains, and Jeonghan can practically hear the grin in his voice.

His mind stutters to a halt, and for a moment, all the noise fades—the engine’s roar, the tires screeching against the asphalt, even the deafening wind rushing past his helmet. He blinks, the image of you sitting in the garage flashing in his mind, your presence there grounding him in a way nothing else can.

And then, like a light cutting through the fog, your words echo in his head. “Win tomorrow, and I’ll tell you my answer.”

His grip on the wheel tightens, his breath steadies, and something in him clicks. It’s not just the car anymore—it’s him. His mind, his body, the machine—they all fall into alignment like pieces of a puzzle.

“Copy,” he says into the radio, his voice calm now. The frustration is gone, replaced by a steely determination.

Lap 50. Jeonghan is chasing down P3, the gap shrinking corner by corner. His tires scream in protest as he takes each turn with precision, braking just a fraction later, accelerating just a fraction earlier. The car isn’t perfect, but it doesn’t need to be. He’s making it work.

As he dives into the braking zone at Turn 7, the car in front of him falters, locking up slightly. Jeonghan seizes the opportunity, darting to the inside line and slipping past with a calculated aggression that leaves no room for error.

P3.

Lap 53. The leader pack is within sight now—Mingyu in P1, his closest rival, and Seungcheol in P2, a surprising dark horse this season. The three of them have danced this dance all season, but tonight feels different. Tonight, everything is on the line.

Lap 55. Seungcheol’s car begins to falter, his tires degrading as he struggles to maintain pace. Jeonghan hovers in his slipstream, biding his time.

On the main straight, he pulls to the outside, pushing his car to its limits. The engine roars as he edges past Seungcheol, the two of them side by side into the braking zone. Jeonghan holds his line, his heart pounding as he feels the car stick.

P2.

Lap 58. Mingyu is just ahead, the gap less than a second now. Jeonghan can feel the strain in his body, his hands cramping from the sheer effort, but he doesn’t let up. Every ounce of energy he has left is poured into these final laps.

Lap 59. DRS is open, the rear wing flattening to reduce drag as Jeonghan closes the gap on the straight. Mingyu defends aggressively, forcing Jeonghan to the outside.

They enter Turn 10 side by side, the apex inches away. Jeonghan holds his breath, his tires brushing the curbs as he edges ahead. But Mingyu doesn’t back down, his car pushing right up to Jeonghan’s rear wing as they exit the turn.

Lap 60. The final lap. It’s a battle of wills now, neither of them giving an inch. Jeonghan’s heart feels like it’s about to burst, the sweat dripping down his face soaking into the padding of his helmet.

The final corner looms ahead, and Jeonghan knows this is it. Mingyu is on his inside, the two of them neck and neck as they approach the braking zone.

Jeonghan brakes just a millisecond later, his car sliding slightly as he takes the tighter line. He holds his breath, willing the car to stay steady, and then he’s through.

The checkered flag waves, the two cars crossing the line almost simultaneously.

Jeonghan’s chest heaves as he slumps back in his seat, his mind a blur of exhaustion and adrenaline. He doesn’t know if he’s won or lost—everything was too close, too fast.

The radio crackles to life, and for a moment, all he hears is chaos—shouting, cheering, voices overlapping in a cacophony of noise.

And then, cutting through it all, your voice rings out.

“YOON JEONGHAN, TWO-TIME WORLD CHAMPION!”

The words hit him like a lightning bolt, and a yell tears from his throat, loud and raw and triumphant. He punches the air, his entire body trembling with emotion as he lets out another scream, so loud he’s sure the neighboring cars can hear him.

He’s done it.

Through the static of the radio, he hears your laughter, bright and unrestrained, and it’s the only sound that matters.

Jeonghan rolls into Parc Fermé with deliberate precision, the sound of his engine fading into silence as he pulls to a stop. His hands are shaking, his knuckles pale from the grip he’s maintained for the last grueling laps. The cockpit feels stifling, and yet he lingers for a second longer, the enormity of what’s just happened crashing over him like a wave.

He’s done it.

The realization leaves him breathless. His fingers fumble with the steering wheel as he pulls it free, his movements automatic even as his mind spirals. Around him, the world is chaos. Fans scream from the stands, the floodlights of Las Vegas painting the scene in stark gold and shadows. Through the static in his earpiece, his engineer’s voice is still ringing with elation, and he hears indistinct shouting from his crew, but it all blends into a distant roar.

All Jeonghan can think about is you.

He climbs out of the car, bracing his foot on the halo as he pushes himself upright. For a brief moment, he stands tall atop the machine, his body vibrating with adrenaline. His fists shoot into the air, and he lets out a triumphant yell, a sound ripped from deep within his chest. The Ferrari crew erupts in response, a sea of red swarming toward him, shouting his name, their arms outstretched in celebration.

But Jeonghan’s eyes are already searching, scanning the barriers beyond the chaos, darting from one face to another. He’s not looking for his engineers or the cameras or even his teammates. He’s looking for you.

And then he sees you.

You’re there, pressed against the barricade, your hands gripping the edge so tightly your knuckles are white. Your face is wet—tears streaming freely—but your smile is brighter than anything he’s ever seen. It’s disbelieving, joyous, and so achingly familiar that his breath catches in his throat.

In that moment, everything else fades away. The cheers of his team, the flashing cameras, the rules about protocol—none of it exists anymore.

Jeonghan jumps down from the car, tossing the wheel to a waiting mechanic, and tears at his helmet strap. The world around him is a blur of movement and noise—his team surging forward, the cameras flashing, the announcer’s voice booming overhead—but none of it registers. His helmet comes off with a sharp tug, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat as he grips the sleek surface in one hand and bolts toward you.

He’s moving before he realizes it, his boots pounding against the pavement as he cuts through the throng of people. The barricade draws closer, and the sight of you—your tear-streaked cheeks, your trembling shoulders—grounds him in a way nothing else could.

When he reaches you, he doesn’t stop.

His hands find you immediately. One curls around your neck, his palm warm and steady against your skin, while the other cups your face, his thumb brushing away the tears tracing paths down your cheek. His chest is still heaving, his breath ragged from the exertion of the race, but his touch is impossibly tender.

Your lips part, and your voice comes out in a trembling whisper, just loud enough for him to hear over the chaos. “Congratulations, pretty boy.”

It’s like the world holds its breath. For one fleeting second, it’s just the two of you. The noise of the paddock fades, the flashing lights dim, and all that remains is the quiet intimacy of your words.

Jeonghan’s lips curve into a smile so pure, so unrestrained, that it feels like sunlight breaking through a storm. “You love me,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent. His forehead dips to rest against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Yes or—”

You don’t let him finish.

Your arms shoot out, locking around his neck as you pull him down into a kiss. It’s desperate and dizzying, a culmination of everything left unsaid. Jeonghan freezes for the briefest of moments, his eyes widening, before melting into you entirely. His lips move against yours, soft but insistent, and the hand on your neck slides up to thread through your hair, holding you close as if you might disappear.

“Yes,” you whisper against his mouth, your voice breaking. Your hands fist in the front of his race suit, anchoring yourself as you press your forehead to his. “Yes. I love you.”

The barriers around you tremble as the Ferrari crew erupts in celebration, their cheers deafening. Jeonghan barely registers it. His fist shoots into the air, his lips still brushing against yours as he laughs—a sound full of pure, unrestrained joy.

“You’re my lucky charm,” he murmurs, his voice shaking with a mix of awe and certainty.

And when you smile back at him, it’s brighter than the floodlights, warmer than the victory. 

EPILOGUE

FORMULA 1 ROLEX AUSTRALIAN GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Albert Park Grand Prix Circuit

The air at Albert Park hums with the kind of energy that only a new season can bring. The stands are packed, a sea of flags waving for drivers and teams, and the scent of freshly cut grass mingles with the faint tang of engine oil. It’s not quite spring yet, but the Melbourne sun still beats down relentlessly, leaving Jeonghan’s fireproofs clinging uncomfortably to his skin as he strides out of the Ferrari garage.

His mind buzzes with the aftermath of qualifying—P2 isn’t pole, but it’s close enough to feel like a promise. Yet, beneath the satisfaction, there’s the familiar tug of nerves that always follows a strong start. Tomorrow is what counts.

His publicist catches up to him, clipboard in hand. “Sky Sports first,” she says, her tone clipped but not unkind.

Jeonghan barely suppresses a groan, already knowing what awaits him. He doesn’t mind media—not entirely—but right now, his thoughts are miles away from answering questions about his out lap or tire degradation.

He rounds the corner into the media pen, where cameras are trained on bright logos and polished smiles. But his eyes find you immediately, waiting just behind the barricade, a microphone in hand, your hair catching the golden glow of the late afternoon sun.

You’re a vision.

He slows as he approaches, his publicist muttering instructions he doesn’t bother to hear. Your eyes catch his, and a secret smile spreads across your lips. He mirrors it, his heart lifting in a way that has nothing to do with his qualifying position.

Jeonghan leans against the barricade, his hands braced on the metal. It’s casual, nonchalant—a stark contrast to the spark simmering beneath the surface. As the questions begin, his fingers shift, brushing yours. The touch is featherlight, a soft sweep of skin against skin, but it’s enough to make his chest tighten.

The lanyard around your neck gleams in the sunlight, a stark reminder of how much had changed—and how much hadn’t. You’re still you.

And you’re wearing it.

The chain glints faintly against your skin, the two charms catching the light with each movement. One is the microphone, delicate and detailed, perfectly crafted. The other is his initial: J. Small, simple, yet undeniably his.

(You’d teased him endlessly when he gave it to you at Christmas. “Modest as always, aren’t you?” you’d laughed.

“Of course,” he’d replied, his voice low and teasing as he leaned into your hair. “One charm for your new job, because I’m so proud of you. And one for me, because I’m so amazing.”

“Two-time world champion,” you’d corrected, poking his ribs.

“Two-time world champion,” he’d agreed with a grin, pulling you into his arms.)

“Jeonghan,” you greet, a secret smile tugging at your lips.

The sound of his name on your lips—professional but laced with affection—sends a warmth through him that he doesn’t bother to hide. “Y/N,” he replies, his tone light but his eyes heavy with meaning.

The interview begins, your questions sharp and to the point. Jeonghan answers with his usual ease, the confidence that had earned him his titles. But he’s distracted, his focus flickering between your voice and the way your thumb absently brushes the microphone charm as you speak.

“You’re awfully cheerful for someone who only managed P2,” you tease, tilting your head slightly.

He leans closer, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Just keeping it interesting. Wouldn’t want to win everything too easily.”

You roll your eyes, but the soft laugh that escapes you betrays your amusement.

The banter continues, each exchange laced with an undercurrent of warmth that only the two of you can fully understand. To anyone watching, it’s just another driver and journalist sharing a lighthearted moment. But to Jeonghan, it’s everything.

When the cameras finally cut, the energy between you shifts. He leans over the barricade without hesitation, his hands curling around the edge for balance as he dips his head toward you.

The first kiss is quick, a soft press of lips that feels like a punctuation mark to the conversation.

The second is slower, more deliberate, as if he’s savoring the fact that he can do this now.

The third lingers, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that makes your breath catch.

“Jeonghan,” you murmur, glancing around with a mix of amusement and exasperation. But your grin is wide, and your cheeks are flushed, and he knows you’re not annoyed in the slightest.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice so low it barely reaches you. His eyes are soft, his expression open in a way that’s reserved only for you.

Your hand finds his wrist, your fingers curling gently around it. “I love you too,” you reply, your voice steady, your gaze unyielding.

For a moment, the world around you fades—the bustling media pen, the hum of conversations, the clicking cameras. All that exists is the space between you, filled with unspoken promises and the quiet certainty of what comes next.

And as Jeonghan straightens, reluctantly stepping back into the whirlwind of his world, he knows he’s carrying a part of you with him—just as you carry a part of him. Always.

a/n: and that, was full throttle. i cannot express to any of you how proud i am of myself for finishing this. i think i spent more time deleting things on this doc than i did writing it and somehow, i fucking love the way this turned out. alta, kae, if you're reading this - thank you. from the bottom of my heart. this story would have never happened had it not been for the two of you motivating me to get this out of my head and onto a doc. you both inspire me every day and i am lucky that i had you on my side for this one.

[sundew199]

Look so good

Tags: Reiner Braun x f!reader, cum play, cream pie, multiple orgasms, messy sex

Kinktober Day 10: cum play for @wintrrxxo

!!minors dni!!

"Shit that's good."

Reiner grunted from behind, releasing the grip he had on your plush cheeks, massaging them to relieve the bruising hold he had with his fingers while going in from behind. You were panting, sucking in deep breaths to get your heart rate back down to a normal speed after the absolute beating he gave to your pussy. You were so blissfully sore, thighs and biceps shaking from the strain of the position Reiner kept you in, feeling the relief that came from not arching your back anymore.

Flopping over on your side after he pulled out, you reached over for your phone while he went to grab a rag, scrolling through the missed messages and notifications that piled up. Didn't expect much less, given the two of you almost went for forty five minutes this time, unfortunately not even breaking a record.

"Spread your legs for me?" The request coming from beside you, Reiner holding a damp rag with one knee on the bed already, waiting for you to do as he asked. Slowly, ignoring the ache, you parted your legs just enough to clean the mess you and him made.

Setting your phone back on the bedside table, you waited for the warmth to touch your skin, needing the relief but still not feeling it after sometime, peaking one eye open to see what the hold up was.

He was gazing at the mess dreamily, like a work of art you'd see in a museum that just took your breath away. The rag wasn't even in his hand anymore, tossed to the side and soaking the comforter as it lay there unused.

"Reiner."

"Sorry just-" Practically moaning as he sighed his response, running the rough palms of his hands over your thighs and back down to your knees, itching with temptation that was so strong you could feel it in his touch. "Looks so good, wanna slide back in-."

You whined to drown out the end of his sentence, emphasizing the mere idea of him entering you would send you into overstimulation. But the way he looked and marveled at the sight of your cum and his leaking and smearing everywhere, made it all the more tempting.

"And do what?" Spreading your folds with two fingers, showcasing the milky white liquid flowing out of your hole, going the extra mile to push some of it back in, wincing from the sensitivity.

"Go again, obviously." Now moving to hover over you, one hand by the side of your head with the other gently trailing down your abdomen, closer and closer to your leaking cunt. Something about the way his cum leaked out of your used hole made Reiner feral, got him hard in a near instant if he stared for too long and that was the case now. "If you're up for it."

"Round two with no prep huh? Sounds intentional." Sneaking in a jab with your breathy response, watching the way his lips curled above you as his hand now hovered over yours parting your folds.

"Might be." Taking his middle finger to shove some of it back in, pressing a kiss to the center of your pinched brows, knowing it was a lot after just finishing minutes ago. A huff of air fanned over your face as he slowly shoved more of it inside, knowing his cum was deep inside and about to fuck more of it into you was making him weak, turning him greedy with wanting to fill you more than you already are.

"Can't help myself sometimes, ya know?" Breathing the words right into your ear, a rasp in his voice from how desperate he'd become from the mere idea of fucking his cum back into you and of course coming again. In a way it was addicting, you looked so good in everyday, whether it was leaking and smeared on your inner thighs or sporadically painted on your face and chest, Reiner couldn't get enough.

"Mm yeah I know." Laughing softly, letting a hand thread through the back of his hair as you peppered a few kisses to the side of his face, a small distraction as he worked in a second finger inside you to ease the linger ache and sensitivity. A small whine echoed in his ear as he took in a deep breath, pulling away from your face and sitting back on his knees, removing the cum soaked fingers to coat his cock. A groan that bordered on a sigh left his lips, his shaft sporting a milky sheen once more and he twitched in his own hand knowing it was a combination of both of your releases.

Moving to bend one of your legs at the knee, Reiner kissed the inside, sliding forward to tuck his arms behind your neck, press his bare chest to yours as the tip of his cock teased your entrance. He chuckled cumbersomely to hide the raging arousal inside him as he pushed the head past your tight ring of muscle, cracking a smile at your immediate arch and pitchy whine.

"God how do you feel even better sweetheart?" Asking to himself after he sheathed himself fully inside you, holding himself there for longer than normal, knowing he was going to cum faster no matter what.

You smiled after pulling his face back at bit, cupping your hands on either side of his face, clenching around him intentionally and drinking in the blissed expression and soft moan he gave. "Don't think I have an answer for you baby."

Reiner laughed under his breath at that, pulling his hips back only half way and pushing them forward, beginning a gentle rhythm to work his way up. You were already digging your nails into his freckled shoulder at the first thrust, so sensitive but feeling so good at the same time. Sensitivity had you writhing and arching from the start, instantly vocal with the way your pussy squelched and stretched around him, putting such a decadent display for the man above you.

"Hold still for me baby, can't keep it inside you like I want if you keep moving." Sounding rather stern as his hand came to hold you down at the hip, keeping you pinned to the bed and unable to squirm away.

"I'm trying just - fuck Reiner it's almost too much." Whining pitifully with a strain in your voice, dragging your nails down the meaty arms, leaving bright red streaks in the skin, turning something in Reiner's gut.

"You can take it," Cooing into your ear with such a seductive convincing, back to being inches from your face and running the tip of his tongue on the outer shell of your ear, making you shutter. He breathlessly laughed again when your hips rutted off the bed, trying to meet his deep long strokes and how your body reacted to the overstimulation. Oh what a sight you were for him, what a fucking sight.

His hips inevitably increased in pace after you came around him, juices mixing and smearing with the old and creating such a mess between the two of you, a mess that inflamed the fire of lust inside Reiner's gut. Making a mess with your cum and his was something he couldn't pass up, fucking his first orgasm back into your and filling you with another in the same span of time? Yeah Reiner would always find an excuse to do so.

"Such a mess, such a gorgeous mess all for me." Growling into your lips, snapping his hips hard into yours, rolling them in a circle and swallowing your whines. You were grappling every inch of his body, running your nails deep into his skin, where ever you could reach.

"Fuck - yes-" Forcing yourself to respond, repeatedly clenching around him as another orgasm was fast approaching, loosing count from the first round and this one, but knowing Reiner was keeping track.

"Want me to fill you up? Keep fucking my cum into this perfect pussy?" Asking as if the answer were far from the obvious, but wanting to hear your pretty voice tell him so.

"Mhm." Burying your face into the side of his neck, trembling against his body and to the point of tears.

"Can't hear you sweetheart." Hiding his smile in your hair, keeping the firm hold he had on your hip to snap his hips forward a couple more times.

"Yes please, want your cum, again." Whining into the sweaty skin on the side of his neck, releasing a long moan and hearing a similar response come from above,

Expecting him to pull back, Reiner surprised you when he didn't pressing his face harder into the side of your head and letting out shaky breaths that were followed by grunts and groans. Your bodies were so pressed together it was a wonder he was able to thrust into you as fast and hard as he was, but finding a way nonetheless.

"God just wanna keep you filled all the time, want you leaking for days baby." Sputtering out and giving away how close he was, simply nodding your head and whining his name, the tension in his body growing taunt with each thrust.

You muffled your sob into his neck still when you came again, feeling him pull away and hold both of your hips down, focusing on where his dick thrusted in and out of you and the absolute mess that was between you. His head fell back, jaw falling slack and his eyes squeezed shut as the final thrusts were slammed into your hips.

There was so much cum already you could barely notice the warmth of his second release filling you, and to no surprise that it immediately leaked out from the sides down his shaft and your inner thighs. Reiner huffed, wincing from his own sensitivity and overstimulation, waiting for his body to relax before pulling out.

Maybe you should've guess it when he snaked his arms under you, rolling you on top of him while still keeping himself inside. Greedy bastard he was.

Of course he reasoned with wanting to stay like this for just a moment longer and you had no energy to question him, shaking your head and pressing a lazy kiss to his lips.

Careful fingers ran up and down your spine, soothing you nearly to sleep if it weren't for the pulsing cock still inside you.

"Kinda stuff you see in porn." Amusing himself with his own comment, shamelessly smiling still even after you removed your head from his chest to give him a disapproving look.

"Filthy bastard, good god." Propping yourself on an elbow on the chisled chest you laid on, rolling your eyes with a small laugh.

"Yea, but who keeps fucking this 'filthy bastard' hm?" Cocking a brow and not missing the way tried to lift yourself off of him, immediately thwarted by the hand on your hip.

"About to be no one if you don't let me nap." Flopping back down with your face press to the center of his chest, the same hand that caressed up and down your back, giving a playful squeeze to your ass, choosing to ignore it for now.

"Mm, love you." Hearing him laugh under his breath, kissing the top of your head and the relaxation seep into his body and nothing bothering to move from the current position either of you were in, too tired to even try.

[just-jordie-things]

as usual @delzinrowe has my brain rotting at an exceptional rate

so let's talk about gojo and how he cannot drive

for the record, if gojo satoru wanted to drive, he could pick it up at anytime. he's gojo satoru after all, there's nothing he can't do, he's a god among humans.

but a god doesn't really need to learn how to drive.

as a youngster he always had people there to do that for him. at the mere snap of his fingers he had a ride to the candy shop. he likes to think he wasn't that much of a brat... but if his sweet tooth was particularly achey that day he might've gotten a bit of an attitude.

and as an adult, driving just wasn't a skill he deemed worthy of picking up. he could teleport anywhere he pleased without breaking a sweat. why waste his time with traffic and a stuffy car? besides, he loved to show off, and teleportation was just one of his many tricks.

so if you asked him, gojo satoru would tell you that he didn't need to learn to drive, he had much faster ways to get around.

that was, until (y/n) was giving him her address and the time of evening at which would be the best time to pick her up for their date, and satoru finds himself so blinded in his moment of gooey infatuation, that he agrees to her terms without thinking twice. it's not until she's walked back towards her classroom that his best friend and fellow colleague spawns next to him and points out his fatal flaw.

"and how exactly do you plan to pick her up, romeo?" geto suguru half purrs half sneers out the little comment, and it's obvious that gojo freezes up in that moment.

"suguru, can i borrow your c-"

"absolutely not"

and that's how he finds himself in this position. staring at the brand new sleek black car in his driveway with his hands on his hips and the shiny new keys to match clutched in his hand. he's been staring it down for a good ten minutes now, much to his kids' annoyance and impatience.

"well are you gonna drive it or not?" the spiky haired boy next to him huffs.

"don't rush me, brat" gojo huffs back with the same level of childish frustration.

"i'm sure you'll do fine," the boy's sweetheart of a sister counterpart chirps up. "you have a license, don't you? it'll be like riding a bicycle"

gojo's face twists into a sour wince, and now megumi and tsumiki are both staring up at him with wide apprehensive eyes.

"you don't have a license?" megumi barks out before his guardian could dish out some half-assed lie. "isn't it illegal to drive without-!?"

a large hand is slapped over the boy's mouth before he could finish berating the man, and gojo's baring his teeth in that grin that the kids know means he's up to bullshit.

"nonsense!" the white haired sorcerer practically cheers. "of course i have a license! i'm a phenomenal driver. i'm a phenomenal everything,"

megumi and tsumiki share a side eye that suggests they believe otherwise. gojo rolls his eyes and finally struts over to the driver's side door. those kids always believed the worst in him.

without another word, he plops in, sticks the key in the ignition, and tries not to startle as the car purrs to life and all the lights come flickering on.

he realizes in this moment that he's never even sat in the driver's seat of a real car.

but he's driven go karts with suguru and shoko many times, in high school- and even just last week when he begged them to.

the car groans at him when he tries to force a shift into reverse. it groans again when his foot taps the gas before settling on the break, and finally he' can move the's putting the car in reverse.

with a grin he glances out the window where the fushiguro siblings are still standing at the edge of the lawn, watching the whole ordeal with silent concern. he gives them a thumbs up before tapping the gas again.

his head is jerked forward as the car speeds backwards faster than expected, the needle on the speedometer flying towards the 10 before shooting back down when he slams on the left pedal again. it screeches to a halt before it could even enter the road, surely leaving a short streak of black on the otherwise clean driveway.

gojo winces, and dares a peek out the window. he's not surprised to find his kids with their hands clamped over their mouths. he gives them another, more sheepish, thumbs up.

well, maybe this was a bad idea, he starts to wonder as he checks the street behind him. there was little to no traffic right now, which made for the perfect time for a driver with only five minutes of a youtube tutorial for knowledge on the rules of the road to enter the roadway. and besides, nothing was going to keep him from going on this date.

so he puts the car in park before rolling down the window and leaning out to holler at the kids.

"keep the door locked and call uncle suguru if there's an emergency!"

"okay! have fun!" tsumiki's ever so present optimism is in full bloom as she smiles and waves at her guardian.

"he's not our uncle" megumi mutters with a roll of his eyes.

they stand on the lawn and watch as gojo slowly backs out of the driveway, hitting the brake every two seconds and jolting the car the whole way out. he's crooked in the street, and it takes him a second longer than the average driver to put it in drive and get going. even then, the kids stand and watch a few minutes longer as gojo intermittently taps the brake and gas, rolling forward only a few feet a minute.

"do you think he's gonna get arrested?" tsumiki asks her brother once he's turned off their street, still on his tap and go method.

"who knows," megumi replies. "but he's definitely losing the car"

"yeah, definitely"

by the time gojo actually pulls up to (y/n's) address- the car crooked in your empty driveway, he's certain that he's mastered driving with the past ten minutes of experience, and surely she'll be impressed.

obviously, he misses the way she tilts her head at his parking job, but she quickly shakes it off as she joins him in the car, too eager for their first proper date to question the angle of his car in her driveway.

he has to gush over how pretty she'd done herself up for the night for a good five minutes before they get moving, and that's when his true colors begin to shine.

forgetting that he wasn't properly pulled into the drive, he backs over the curb after a rush of gassing and braking in reverse. (y/n) may have delayed in buckling her seatbelt, but she's just as soon scrambling to grab the belt and snap it into place, clutching onto it as discreetly as possible.

when he sends a proud grin her way, she can't help but force a gentle smile back at him. he might still be tapping the brake an unnecessary amount of times as he cruises down the road, but she doesn't have it in her to question his ability- or lack thereof.

however, at the end of the night when he drops her off and they solidify their plans for a second date, she insists that she picks him up next time <3

___

a/n: he's literally just a girl !!! xoxo ~ jordie

[darthannie]

day seven: sex tape with neil lewis

pairing: Neil Lewis x f!reader word count: 738 warnings: p in v sex, gf!reader, unprotected sex, blowjob, a/n: If he could, he’d film his sex tape on Super 8. This one is a little silly but it’s fun. I love Neil.  kinktober masterlist

There was no real reason you and Neil wanted to make a sex tape, you just thought it would be fun to make a little movie for each other. You went to his house one night, ready for the “shoot” as he called it. He had even cleaned his room for the occasion. 

You’d both gotten completely naked so as not to waste any precious minutes when you started filming. He was already getting hard at the sight of you. The viewfinder from the camcorder was facing towards you so you could see what was happening. 

He thought you looked pretty with spit on your face and his cock on your cheek. You tapped it on your face and smiled, licking It again. You didn’t break eye contact with the camera as you took him in your mouth again, bobbing up and down. You closed your eyes to enjoy the moment. 

You looked up at Neil as he moved the camera and flipped the viewfinder to get a head-on view of the action. You used both your hands and mouth, cupping his balls with one hand and stroking him with the other. Your tongue danced on the tip of his cock and he moaned loud enough for the janky microphone to pick up. He flipped the viewfinder to watch through the camera.

“Wait, wait, wait. Fuck, we’re running out of time on the card. Get on your back.” You let out a long AHHHHH, as you maneuvered around him. It made him laugh and he forgot about the camera for a moment as he bent over to kiss you. 

You pulled away. “Okay, babe, no time.”

“Right, right,” he froze for a second. “Here, you grab the camera and film me.”

Once you put him in frame he was back in it. You zoomed in on his cock sliding over your wet pussy. He put the tip inside you and pulled out. You groaned, “Neil, no time for teasing just fuck me.”

“Okay, okay.” He thrust hard, reaching a deep spot that made you twitch, shaking the camera slightly. He settled on a moderate pace as he found which angle got the best reaction out of you. 

He knew he had you when your head dipped into the pillows under you. He focused on you. He couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend that was willing to shoot this with him. Someone willing to immortalize one of the most intimate moments of your life. 

He took the camera from your hands, flipped the viewfinder, and placed it on the nightstand. He kissed you as he started moving again. He moved from your lips to your neck, nipping at the skin and leaving marks that would soon turn red. 

“Neil, faster please…”, you begged. 

He didn’t change his speed. “I don’t care if it stops recording.”

“Me neither, I just need you.”

He groaned, “Say that again.”

“I need you, baby.”

He wanted to hear that more than anything. He sped up before you finished saying baby. Your nails ran across his back as you started feeling your orgasm build up. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

He huffed and puffed, slowing down as you came on him. He felt you squeeze around him and he pulled out. He moaned as he stroked his cock and came on your stomach.

When you both caught your breath you looked over at the camera. It read “Memory card full”. You looked at each other and chuckled. He told you to stay put and ran into the bathroom. He ran back out with boxers on and a wet washcloth. He cleaned you up and you found your underwear and t-shirt.

You put them on as he took the camera and sat down on the bed. The bed dipped as you sat next to him. Neil opened up the media library to find the movie and you both watched, listening to the sound coming from the crappy camcorder speaker.

You giggled and hid your face in the crook of his neck, unable to watch what was not on tape. He shrugged his shoulder to get you to look. You were nervous to see yourself in such a vulnerable position but had to admit you looked hot. Then came the moment of truth. You watched as Neil came on you, and then it stopped.

 Neil looked at you and smiled. “Well, I guess we got the shot.”

Taglist:

@devotedlyshadowytheorist, @dxnger-dxys, @tommyshelbywhore, @quinnlilias,@madnessandobsession, @mvpr-moon, @nela-cutie, @faebirdie, @charmed-asylum, @anasanthology, @ilikefictionalmen, @akanne-aka, @no-fooking-fighting,@queenofstresss, @flwrs4aust, @mrkdvidal1989, @eleanorthemo,@ilovepeoplesdads, @00hsv

(If something is up with your tag or you would like to be added, let me know!)

[whumplump]

Experiment

Despite my lack of motivation, I suddenly had a burst of ideas that led me to write this.

CW: medical whump, surgeon whumper, knives, blood, testing, torture, vivisection

Information may not be medically accurate.

Whumpee woke up to a bright light. Their eyelids were heavy, making it difficult for their eyes to open, and even when they opened, their vision was blurred. Whumpee wasted a few seconds until they saw a silhouette of someone wearing a surgical mask and gloves positioning a large white lamp over their body. Their eyes wandered more, bringing more information to their disoriented head. Their arms and legs, tied to a hard and uncomfortable stretcher, but rigorously clean.

The entire room was dull and uninteresting in color, like a hospital usually is. Whumpee tried to speak and finally realized they were gagged. Their eyes returned to the person they had seen before, who now stood in front of a small table with some metal trays that displayed some materials and tools.

Whumper pressed a button on a small recorder.

“Test log, section 32. This time, the procedure will rely on a live specimen."

He took a rolled-up piece of paper and held it out in front of him to get a better look. The position in which Whumper lifted the paper allowed Whumpee to peek at the contents. It was blue paper with several frighteningly detailed drawings of human organs. There were post-its with notes written in different colored pens.

Whumpee got scared and started struggling, trying to free themselves. Whumper seemed to have heard but ignored it.

"I will carry out the test paying attention to signs of previous results. The steps will be the same."

Whumpee stopped squirming and paid attention.

"First, an opening of three cuts is made, from the belly to the chest of the specimen."

Whumpee's eyes widened.

"Then, the layers of flesh lower down are cut and the edges are pulled back, exposing the organs."

Whumpee saw the experiment drawings on the paper and began to struggle again. Their gag-muffled screams reached vaguely on the voice recorder as background music for the diary.

“Then, extraction begins. First, the kidneys. Then, the liver... And so on. With the specimen alive, I can collect more results regarding pain resistance and lifespan. There will be no anesthesia. I'm looking forward to the experiment unfolding."

He rolled up the paper and set it aside on the table. He picked up a small scalpel and a handful of gauze and turned around, approaching Whumpee. The "specimen" became even more desperate, trying so hard to free themselves from the restraints that their wrists and ankles were getting bruised.

Whumper looked into the eyes of his living experiment. Whumpee looked back with teary eyes. They prayed that Whumper would be sympathetic and give up, or kill them outright. They prayed that they would receive empathy. However, Whumper maintained his neutral expression and said:

"A skittish and nervous specimen. The accelerated heart rate will promote blood circulation, facilitating the procedure."

Whumpee helplessly watched the scalpel approach their body.

"Starting incisions.”

Whumper began by cutting Whumpee's belly horizontally, holding the scalpel with his hand at a slight angle, letting the instrument slide beneath the surface of the skin, breaking through a layer of flesh. Whumpee screamed as loud as they could under the gag. Whumper proceeded with the cut hellishly slowly, holding the piece of gauze with his other hand, stopping the excess blood from leaking from the wound. When he was finished, Whumpee could breathe for a few seconds, albeit with difficulty.

“The specimen's blood is slightly darkened. I'm still waiting for the results of the blood samples I collected, but I believe the specimen has some disease. The skin sits comfortably on the bones, and the flesh is as soft and fragile as paper. Anyway." Continuing incision.”

He began a vertical slash at the same agonizing speed. After a while, Whumpee lost the strength to scream. It was already difficult to breathe with all the pain and anxiety, and the gag made their situation even worse.

Whumper stopped the second cut halfway and took a look at Whumpee. He set the scalpel and gauze aside and took a small flashlight from the instrument tray.

"Relapse. Paleness, heavy breathing." He held Whumpee's eyelids and flashed the light directly into their eyes, one at a time. "Dilated pupils. The specimen is not very resistant. It may not hold until the end of the tests. I will suture the incisions already made and stop this section at that. I will place the specimen in a saline supplement and give it a few days to recover briefly.”

Whumpee lost their strength and passed out. Whumper returned to the table and replaced the lantern. He took off his gloves and mask, letting out a long sigh.

He pressed another button on the voice recorder.

"Section 32, summary. The specimen has a low tolerance for pain and blood loss. I will focus on strengthening it until the results of the blood tests arrive and finally proceed with the main experiment. End of recording."

He turned back to Whumpee. He ran his hand through the victim's dehydrated hair.

“You're the best test subject I've ever had.”

[cmncisspnandmore]

One Night Stand: part 4

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: None? slight angst? Maybe if you squint

Summary: Simon is away on a mission, but things are speeding up back at home.

A/N:....... Hi, sorry. I'm back, i'm sos sorry for the long break between parts. I'm also sorry this is a short part, i started writing it before i went on a break, and i finished it today and its kinda a flop. But i promise to do better on the next part. asdfghjkl, please stick with me, I promise i'll do better.

Word Count: 2.909

New to the series? Catch up here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

It had been almost a week since you heard from Simon. He has sent you a brief text the morning he left. It was vague, didn't give you any details about where he was going, or how long he would be gone. He had promised to contact you as soon as he could. You find yourself staring down at your phone, hoping that maybe if you stared at it long enough he would text you. But it never came. 

Your knee shakes as you sit in the doctor’s office, the nurses coming out periodically to get someone from the waiting room. Your appointment was in 5 minutes, but you had been sitting there for the last 20 minutes. Nervous was an understatement, if you could describe how you felt out loud people would think you were insane. You felt like your lungs were vibrating in your chest, every organ moving at the fast pace of your heartbeat. 

The nurse calls out your name as you stand on shaky legs. The world is out of focus as you walk towards her. She smiles, and leads you back to her ultrasound room, her voice muffled  by the pounding in your ears. A hand touches your shoulder and it takes you a moment to realize that she was talking to you. 

“This is your first?” She asks, sitting in the chair next to the bed, pulling her stool up to the computer. 

“Oh.. yeah..” You lay back on the bed, and look over at her. She was wearing a pair of cartoon character scrubs. Her hair pulled up into a french twist, as she typed on the keyboard. 

“Okay, well lay back, and roll down the top of your jeans, and pull up your shirt as we’ll see if we can get a good look at that baby of yours. Do we need to wait for dad?” She asks, as you lay back against the paper. It crinkles as you roll down the tops of your jeans, your body shifting as you adjust. 

“Oh, no… he’s away,” heat rushes to your cheeks, red hot embarrassment coursing through your veins. 

“Oh no problem lovely, we’ll make sure to get extra pictures and you can even record the heartbeat for him. How does that sound?” She asks as she picks up the wand and rolls closer to you.

“That would be lovely,” 

“This will be a little cold,” she says as she squirts some of the ultrasound gel onto your stomach. The contact makes goosebumps break out along your skin, you watch the screen across from the bed. The grainy black and white picture moving around as she adjusts the wand. After a few moments a small white, baby-like blob takes over the screen.

“There they are! Look at them,” she smiles as she spends time taking measurements, and telling you what you were seeing on the screen. She takes some pictures while shes doing it, before she smiles at you. 

“Okay, ready to record the heartbeat?” she asks, and presses a few keys on the keyboard. 

You take your phone out and record the screen, the baby’s heart fluttering on the screen. After a moment the sound of fast paced wooshing fills the room, your eyes  fill with tears. It was real, you knew about the baby obviously, but hearing the heartbeat made it real. There was a tiny person growing inside you. A part of you and Simon. You stop the recording as you wipe your eyes with one hand. The Ultrasound tech smiles and hands you a tissue, before she hands you another. “Here Love,” she smiles, “wipe that off and then I’ll be right back with your pictures to take home.” 

You wipe the gel off your stomach, swinging your legs over the side as you wait. You open up the text thread between you and Simon. Your fingers tap the screen as you forward him the recording of the heartbeat.

Y/n: I know you couldn’t be here because of work, but I heard the heartbeat today. It was beautiful, they’re developing right on track. *heartbeat*

The nurse comes in and hands you two long strips of ultrasound pictures, you smile down at them. In one picture the baby’s hand is up in the air and it looks as if they’re waving. She added a little caption that says “hi Daddy!” On it and you can’t help the pang of guilt that settles in your gut.

This was Simon’s first child too. He should be able to experience everything with you. But you knew he couldn’t just abandon his post. He was needed, that much was clear, you couldn't ask him to give it up. You wouldn’t. 

As you walk out of the doctors office towards the bus station, you can’t stop looking down at the roll of pictures in your hands. As the bus pulls up to the sidewalk you climb on and take an empty seat. You study the white baby-like outline as the bus pulls away from the curb, you wonder who they would look like. 

Would they have Simon's light blonde hair?

Maybe his dark brown eyes?

Or would they look like you?

Maybe they would be a perfect blend of you both, with your eyes and Simon’s nose. Whoever they looked like, they would be loved. Your heart swells as you look down at the pictures, your fingered tracing outlines. They were only the size of a lemon, which was crazy to you. 13 weeks ago they didn't even exist, they were nothing. Just two cells that had yet to meet, and now they were the size of a lemon. They could move around although you couldn’t feel it yet, some babies even suck their thumb. 

Your thoughts drift back to Simon… Did he know that the baby was the size of a lemon? That it could now suck its thumb and move around?

Sighing you pull out your phone and text the video of the baby's heartbeat to him, along with a picture of the sonograms. You watch as the blue text bubble sends and the word delivered appears under it. You stare at the screen, wishing that it would change to read, but it doesn’t. Your eyes burn from not blinking, as the bus pulls up to the stop by your neighborhood. You quickly tuck your phone away and step off. The brakes of the bus squeal as it pulls away, leaving you standing on the side of the road alone. 

The walk back to your apartment isn’t long, it only takes 5 minutes at most. But today it felt like the longest walk of your life. You couldn't shake the feeling that pooled in your stomach when the tech looked at you, the pity in her eyes when she found out Simon wasn't there. It had done nothing but remind you that you would probably be doing most of this alone. That there was a chance Simon would miss the birth of his child due to having to be on a mission. 

You haven't given it too much thought, because that seemed so far away from the present. But in reality you were already in your second trimester, and time was going to go by a lot faster than you thought it would. Your relationship with Simon was still in its infancy, you barely knew anything about one another. Sure there was the undeniable attraction between you two, the magnetic pull that caused this whole situation in the first place. 

You climb the 3 flights of stairs to your apartment, your boots thudding on each step. The neighbors below you argue loudly, the crash of things being thrown jars you from your thoughts. You really hated them sometimes. It was like their entire relationship revolved around making each other mad. If they werent fighting they were stoned out of their minds, their eyes glazed over from drugs as they leant against the hoof of their beat up car. They had neer done anything to you personally but you had heard them fighting with some of the other residents. Mostly your direct neighbor to your left. She was a small old lady who would get fed up with them fighting and would call the cops on them regularly. 

As you unlock the door to your apartment, the door to the left opens. The old woman steps out of her apartment with a scowl on her face as she looks at you. You pause, and clear your throat. “Can i help you Mrs. Hines?” You ask, stuffing the sonogram into your pocket.

“Those blasted drug addicts, at it again i tell ya! Throwing things, arguing all hours of the day. Outta teach them a lesson,” she mumbles as he heads towards the stairs. Her cane tapped on the floor as she headed down to the floor below. You wait until her white hair is out of sight on the staircase before you push open your apartment door. The apartment is exactly how you left it, your eyes flickering to the couch. Air rushes past your lips as you find it empty, your laptop sitting in the middle just as you left it. 

You settle into your apartment, and hang the sonogram pictures on the fridge, a small smile on your lips. Settling back onto the couch you pick up your laptop and continue where you left off this morning with your article, the words flowing easily. Hours pass as you near the end of the article, your phone pinging on the couch next to you startles you. For a moment a flash of fear races through your body. Like a bucket of cold water was dumped on you, your heart hammers loudly in your chest. With shaking hands you reach over and grab it, tapping the screen with your thumb. 

The small picture of an adorable ghost next to the name eases your anxiety that settled in your chest. You can't help the small smile that spreads over your lips as you read the messages from Simon. 

Simon: Wow, I wasn't expecting them to look like an actual baby just yet. That's kind of insane. 

You: I know.. Did you get a chance to listen to the heartbeat?

Simon: Yeah… Don't tell anyone but I may have teared up… 

You: Your secret is safe with me. 

There's no reply after that, which is expected. Honestly you were even surprised to have heard from him at all. He was out there doing god knows what, god knows where. Given that he had a few moments to reply to your text must mean that he wasn't fighting for his life at that very moment. 

That thought gave you some comfort… Well kind of. Lately not a lot of things could make you feel at ease anymore. You never truly felt relaxed, not even after moving a few hundred miles away from your hometown. You still felt like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop. For it to be your turn to meet the same fate as your family. But it hasn't come yet, and that alone was enough to make every noise, every bump in the night send prickles of fear skittering across your body. Like thousands of ants running wild along the smooth plains, making you shift uncomfortably. 

The apartment complex was surprisingly quiet for 8pm, normally around this time most of the residents were arguing. Mainly the couple from downstairs, but you haven't heard anything in a little while. You furrow your brows as you look out the window. Their car wasn't there, maybe they had gone out?. The parking lot was mainly empty save for a few cars that you were sure didn't run anymore. TUrning in your seat you glance down at your phone, the screen still dark. 

Exhaustion pulled at you, over the last few weeks you had been having a hard time sleeping.The constant fighting from the people below you coupled with the raging hormones made sleep hard to come by. This past week is especially hard now that the small voice in the back of your head reminding you that Simon wasn't here. He wasn't just a phone call away right now. For all you know he could be on the other side of the world, and there was no established time he would be back. He very well could be gone for months. 

Taking a deep breath you grab your phone and climb into your bed, pulling the blankets up over your head as you try to block out the small pang in your chest. The small part of you that missed Simon's presence. When he was around it was like someone had closed the doors to the roaring fears inside your head. They were still there, but they were muffled and you could be easily distracted from them. Allowing your body to relax for once, after being wound tight for months. 

A blush creeps up your cheeks as you remember how blissfully blank Simon was able to make your mind that night. The night that led to the unplanned but not unwelcome baby that was currently growing in your uterus. Your eyes grow heavy as your mind drifts back to that night. You missed how his hands felt, skating across your skin. The warmth of his lips on yours, the way his heart pounded in his chest under your hands. 

Your hand drifts down to your lower stomach, your fingers brushing the now taught skin. A small smile on your lips as you drift off to sleep with images of Simon's dark brown eyes and blonde hair dance in your mind. 

~~~~

Smoke.

The first thing to cross your mind when you stir from your sleep is smoke. 

The smell was suffocating as you sit up, and blink rapidly into the darkened room. Thick grey clouds billow under the door of your apartment. The loud creaking of the building settling startling you fully awake. Outside you can hear commotion in the parking lot. Quickly throwing the blankets to the side you pad over to the window. People from the lower floors of your building are filing out, waving their hands in front of their faces as they attempt to run from the building. Thick clouds of smoke follow them, as yellow and orange light flickers across their faces. 

You drop to your knees as your throat starts to burn, the air in the room becoming harder and harder to breathe in. Your knees scrape along the uneven floor boards, scratching the soft skin. Pulling your shirt up over your mouth and nose you attempt to take slow even breaths, as the smoke rises to the top of the room. As you reach the door you lift your hand and place the back of it against the door. Its warm but not hot. Taking one last deep breath you reach up hand grasping the warm door knob as you turn it.

Smoke rushes into the room, stinging your eyes as you crawl forward. The hallways is hazy but you can see the stairs at the end of the hall. They look clear of any fire, and you start to crawl there. As you reach the top of the stairs a sound behind you causes you to stop. The floor by your door creaks and groans before it splinters and falls through. Flames lick up through the hole, heat dancing across your skin. It was hot. So incredibly hot. Your eyes water, as you struggle to pull air into your lungs. 

Your throat burns as tears slide down your cheeks, your lungs ache as you start coughing. Your mind becomes fuzzy from lack of oxygen, as you grasp the railing of the stairs you start to feel your way down them quickly. Your feet blindly hitting steps, a few times you almost slip on the stairs. As you get down to the second floor the smoke is thicker. You can't see your own hand in front of your face. The staircase to the first floor is engulfed in flames, they lick up the stairs as they threaten to singe your clothes. 

The window in the stairwell before it shatters above you front he heat, tiny shards of glass rain down on you where you crouch on the staircase. Your body is sluggish from the carbon monoxide. This was it… 

The way out was blocked and you didn't have the energy to climb back up the stairs to try the back staircase. It had only been a few minutes since you left the apartment, but it felt like a lifetime. Your body ached, your skin hurt from the heat, like the worst sunburn you’ve ever gotten. Your lungs screamed like you were being held under water, each cough that forced its way from your throat felt like razor blades.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving trails through the soot and ash that covered your face. The world is slightly muffled as you put your head on the warm concrete of the stairs. The last of your energy fading as sirens scream in the distance. At least they would find your body, maybe there would be enough to identify, so someone would be able to get back to Simon about what happened. 

Simon.

Your heart aches in your chest.

What if no one ever told him what happened?

Your mind starts to go fuzzy and your eyes slide closed, sweet oblivion pulling you under.

As the world fades out you feel someone's arms wrap around you, lifting you from the stairs, their deep voice vibrating in their chest. “Bloody hell, Love. Trouble just knows how to find you, yeah?”

Next Part: Part 5

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

the mystery woman. ( sean renard x reader )

gif belongs to me

Adalind was stunned by the time Diana finished explaining her drawing. In the center was her, surrounded by Nick, herself, Sean, and "Daddy's girlfriend" who had never been mentioned until now. She wasn't shocked that Sean had a woman in his life, as the Captain always seemed to have someone floating in his life before he distanced himself in favor of a physical relationship rather than an emotional one. But from Diana's explanation, it seemed Sean had kept you around for a record-breaking amount of time and Adalind had to admit she was curious about who you were and why after nearly eight months, she was only hearing about your relationship now.

"I can take you to her if you want." Diana smiled, "She works at the bakery downtown, and keeps a table reserved just for me."

Adalind knew there would be a fight if Sean realized she was looking into his private life - their civility only surrounded matters involving their daughter. Anything else was an instant battle of wits, insults flying across the room at breakneck speed. But from Diana's expression, there was no choice. They had to go to the bakery.

The blonde looked around as she followed Diana inside. It was filled with mouth-watering scents and a cozy atmosphere - friendly given how many knew Diana who greeted them politely before pushing her way to the front of the line.

"Diana -"

"Hi, Y/N!" The young girl beamed when you exited the kitchen with a tray of freshly baked cookies. You set them on the counter ready to be drizzled in chocolate and dusted your hands on your apron, sending Diana a bright smile.

"Well, howdy, princess." You greeted, holding your apron as you curtseyed much to Diana's amusement. You spotted Adalind who glanced at her daughter, meeting your gaze with a raised eyebrow, but your smile never faltered. "Hi, you must be Adalind. It's great to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you."

Adalind shook your hand, "I haven't heard a word about you."

"He isn't much of a sharing person. But then again, neither am I." You looked at Diana who was eyeing the freshly baked cookies, knowing it was your recipe. And ever since you had baked cookies to pass the time until her father returned home from work, attempting to bond with the young princess who was wary of you at first, she was always eager for more. "How about you two take a seat and I can bring you something over? On the house, of course."

Adalind ordered coffee while Diana chose a muffin, and insisted her mother should try it. You smiled as they headed to the table that was empty all day for staff breaks, or surprise family visits like today, ensuring they always had a seat. You entered the kitchen as Sean entered the bakery, his gaze dancing around the room until they landed on Diana and Adalind, who agreed with her daughter that the muffin was the best she ever had. It was clear to the blonde how much Diana liked you, and given her past with her father's 'girlfriends' it was nothing short of a miracle which only added to her intrigue.

He approached the table and Diana greeted her father whose narrowed eyes were focused on Adalind. "What are you doing here?"

"Eating a muffin." Adalind shrugged.

She knew there was more he wanted to say, but he wouldn't with Diana around, nor with so many witnesses. But his glare spoke volumes about how he felt about her presence in the bakery, his grip on the back of the chair tightening as he controlled his temper.

"Diana told me about her, and I was curious." She explained. "That's it."

You approached the table, and Sean stood straighter, turning as you set a mug of coffee on the table. You set a glass down next to Diana who thanked you.

"You're welcome." You looked at Sean, "Anything for you, Captain? Pumpkin Spice? Ooh, nutmeg?"

Sean shook his head, "Coffee."

You rolled your eyes although Adalind knew it was in jest. "As black as your soul, got it."

The blonde looked at Sean when he sat down, but his focus was on watching you return behind the counter to brew his coffee. Diana chose this moment to show him her drawing and he could see how much she had matured this past year - before she would have killed you and Nick for keeping him and Adalind apart, but now she valued the large family she had. And seeing her parents happy, even when it wasn't together, she learned to accept it.

"So how did you meet?" Adalind spoke up.

Sean chose to be vague in his reply, hoping she would back off, "I come here for coffee sometimes."

But Diana hadn't noticed the tension between them, offering more information than he was willing to give. "He comes here every day. Morning, lunch, and after work."

Adalind raised an amused eyebrow, "Is that right?"

Diana nodded. "That's how they met. Y/N moved here a year ago and took over the bakery." You caught her gaze and waved her over, and she grinned, leaving to choose a cookie to decorate.

Sean looked away from a smirking Adalind, his eyes scanning the counter finding you weren't there. She observed the way he searched for you and her smirk faltered, her eyes widening in surprise.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day Sean Renard fell in love."

He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond harshly when Diana returned with you a few steps behind. You held out his coffee and he thanked you, his posture tensing under the untrained eye - but Adalind had known him for a long time and could see how protective he was over you.

You rested your hands on his shoulders, standing behind his chair, and Adalind noticed the way his gaze softened, a smile on your lips as you arranged with Diana to stock ingredients this weekend during her stay with Sean so the three of you could bake together.

"You're living together?" Adalind spoke louder than she intended, stunned at the news.

"Uh-huh. But only for two weeks. Although it feels longer." Adalind smiled when you looked at Sean who raised an eyebrow at your answer, "I'm kidding," You squeezed his shoulders and his lips tugged upwards at the gesture.

She finished her coffee, thanking you as she got to her feet. "We should get going."

Diana pouted, but after being reassured that she would see you soon, she followed her mother who sent you a small smile.

"It was nice meeting you."

"You too." She truly meant that.

You looked at Sean when the two blondes left, "Those two are scarily alike."

"Tell me about it." He sighed, and you noticed the drawing on the table. "Diana drew it." He explained when you picked it up. "That's why Adalind came here, to find out who you were."

You smiled down at the drawing before meeting his gaze, "Does this mean I can sleep peacefully without fear that she will try to kill me?" Sean had once told you about how she had killed his mistress, and after explaining that your relationship with her father was different, she had many questions about how you started dating and if you were going to hurt him. She was protective over her parents and from the story he told you about the murder, Diana was the last person you wanted to upset. It took a while to get used to her powers, but Sean could see that your initial apprehension became curiousness and then admiration and he knew how protective you were of his daughter.

Sean chuckled, "I'd say so." He placed a hand on your back and you stepped into his side, smiling down at him. "Why don't we have dinner tonight? Eat in. Grants a little privacy."

You nodded, "We could double date."

Immediately his expression changed and you giggled behind the drawing, watching as he relaxed, realizing you weren't serious.

"What did you have in mind?" You asked.

"Let's just say, that I've enjoyed having you all to myself. And I'm not ready to share just yet."

You leaned down to kiss him softly, placing a hand on his cheek. His cell phone rang and he groaned when you pulled away. "It could be important." You reasoned with a smile.

He sighed as he answered the call, and you picked up Adalind's empty coffee mug, looking at him when he stood. "There's been a development on a case."

You sent him a smile, nodding to show you understood. "Okay."

"I could ignore it and we could head home early..." He whispered suggestively and you bit the inside of your cheek.

"We both know we'd never make it home, and I'd rather my regulars didn't see me naked in a steamed-up car."

He grunted quietly in agreement. "I'll pick you up after work?"

"Sounds great." Your smile elicited a genuine smile from him, which wasn't common when he was out in the open where his enemies could see. He had explained it all to you, his past and the threats he still faced, and you understood his reasons for keeping your relationship a secret as did Adalind who had observed you both for less than twenty minutes. It was for your protection. "I love you."

He mouthed his reciprocation and you closed your eyes when he kissed you. "I'll see you tonight."

"I'll be counting down the minutes." You teased as he headed to the door with his takeaway cup of coffee. After he entered the bakery for the first time since you took over you had learned to brew his perfect cup of coffee and he found himself ditching the instant coffee at the precinct in favor of seeing you and buying a decent cup of coffee.

Sean looked back at you as he walked out and you smiled before heading to the kitchen to check on the pastries you were baking. You pinned the drawing with a magnet and smiled softly before getting back to work, checking the clock now and then with excitement as your date grew closer.

[enchantedrose]

Charlie Gillespie ~ Sex Tape

warning: sexual content. if you’re not comfortable with that, please don’t read. also, this man is so fine toooooo.

————————————————————————

Y/n: “I’ll see you later!” I yell to my best friend Sarah as she drops me back off at my house from work. As i get to my front door, i unlock it and open the door, shutting it behind me. Charlie already told me it was gonna be a late night so i already know he’s not home right now. I go upstairs to our bedroom and change clothes into a pair of shorts and one of Charlie’s shirts before sitting on our bed and getting my phone out. Conveniently enough, as I get it out, my phone rings and i see that Charlie is calling me. I smile before answering the call. “Hey Char.”

Charlie: “Hey baby.” He says on the other end.

Y/n: “What’s up?”

Charlie: “Nothing. I just wanted to hear your voice for a few minutes.” He says making me smile again.

Y/n: “Are you coming home?”

Charlie: “No.” He says before sighing a little. “I’m on a small break right now. I have one more small thing to do after and then I’ll be on my way home. Are you home yet?”

Y/n: “Yeah. I just got home a few minutes ago. Do i need to make you any dinner?”

Charlie: “No. Don’t worry about it love. They have food for us over here. Feel free to make yourself something if you’d like though.” It’s then silence for a few moments before he speaks again. “I love you.”

Y/n: “I love you too baby.”

Charlie: “I gotta go love. I’ll see you later.”

Y/n: “Yeah. Bye Char.”

Charlie: “Bye baby.” He says before we end the call and i look at my lock screen. The one of the both of us. I smile to myself again before opening my phone and laying down a little. I start scrolling on Instagram and checking stories for a few minutes as I see that Owen posted one. I open his story and see Charlie playing around a few hours ago. I smile again watching Charlie being weird and laughing before going back to checking my insta notifications. When i finish checking those, i go to TikTok and watch some of those. I was scrolling for a few minutes when I found a hot edit of Charlie. As i watch it, i can feel myself getting wet. Without realizing, my hand goes down to my cunt and i start rubbing myself slowly. After a few minutes, i set my phone down next to me and continue rubbing myself over my shorts as i moan out thinking of Charlie. “What are you doing?” I hear a voice ask with a small chuckle. I pop open my eyes and see Charlie leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed watching me.

Y/n: “Charlie…” i say moving my hand away quickly.

Charlie: “Ah.” He says stopping me. “Hand back. Now.” He says walking over to me slowly. I then hesitantly put my hand back on my clit as Charlie stands next to me.

Y/n: “I d-didn’t know you were home…” i say as my heartbeat speeds up a little.

Charlie: “Clearly.” He says chuckling a little. I rub myself a little over my shorts again as i moan out again. I barely see Charlie slightly lean against the wall as he watches me.

Y/n: “C-Char…”

Charlie: “Stop love.” He says making me stop my movements whining a little. “Don’t worry love. You’ll get to. I just want to make you do it myself.” He says coming close to me and kissing me, one of his hands on the back of my neck. We make out for a few minutes before he pulls apart and looks at me. “I have an idea.” He says before pecking my lips again and walking over to our dresser at the foot of the bed. I see him take his phone out and go to camera before setting it down.

Y/n: “What are you doing?” I ask him, my heart racing.

Charlie: “You’ll see love.” He says smirking a little as he presses the record button before walking back over to me. “Move over a little love.” He says making me move over a little and he sits where i was laying. He stretches his legs out a little and pats the space in between. I then move to where im sitting in between his legs. He then moves his lips close to my ears before whispering in them. “Show me what you were doing before I showed up.” I look at him in shock before turning my face away from him and hesitantly moving my hand over my clit. I rub it over my shorts again as i feel him slightly stretch my legs out a little more. I see him watching it from the camera and i feel his hand on my thigh slightly caressing it. “You can stop love.” He says making me move my hand away. I lean my back against his chest as i feel his left hand go around my stomach. “Can i touch you love?” He asks making me look at him. I then nod quickly.

Y/n: “Please Char…” i say making him chuckle a little. He moves his right hand slowly down to my clit slowly rubbing me over my shorts for a moment before bringing both of his hands up to my boobs and cups them over my shirt. He then moves to take off my shirt, well his shirt, and throws it somewhere in the room before playing with my boobs. As he kneads them, he kisses my neck and shoulder blades making me moan out from the pleasure. “Char… please…” I say making him chuckle a little against my skin as he moves his right hand over my shorts again. He just rests his hand over my clit before speaking again.

Charlie: “I want you to look into the camera and watch me rub you baby.” He says whispering in my ear before rubbing my clit over my shorts. As I watch Charlie in the camera, I moan out from the pleasure and I can feel myself getting wetter again. After a minute, Charlie stops before speaking again. “Take your shorts off baby. I want to feel your panties.” He says, his voice husky. I comply and lift my hips a little to slide my shorts down my legs before throwing them in the room somewhere. “Good girl.” He says before moving his hand to rub my clit again. “Fuck. You’re so wet love.” He says his left arm wrapping around my waist again. After a few minutes, Charlie can sense I’m getting close so he moves his hand away.

Y/n: “C-Charlie…” I say breathing heavily.

Charlie: “What is it love?”

Y/n: “F-fuck me… with a vibrator… please…” I say making him chuckle a little before giving a small kiss to my shoulder blade.

Charlie: “If that’s what you want love.” He says slightly sucking and kissing on my shoulder blade. “What do you want? A dildo? A bullet?”

Y/n: “A wand…” I say moaning in pleasure from his kisses.

Charlie: “Okay. If that’s what you want baby. You’ll get it.” He says giving one final kiss to my shoulder before reaching over to the bedside table and grabbing one of the vibrating wands. “Ready love?” He asks making me nod and I see him grin in the camera before turning on the vibrator and softly sticking it on my clit above my panties making me moan out.

Y/n: “Oh fuck Charlie!” I moan out as I feel the vibrations. I grip onto Charlie as I buck my hips against the vibrator.

Charlie: “That’s it love.” He says groaning out. As I can feel my high coming again, I speak again.

Y/n: “Charlie, stop for a minute.” I say breathing heavily. Charlie takes the vibrator off of me and looks at me worriedly.

Charlie: “Everything okay baby?” He asks making me nod a little. I lift up my hips to take my panties off as I slide them down my legs before throwing them somewhere in the room and getting comfortable again.

Y/n: “Okay… You can keep going.” I say smiling to him making him smile back. He then pecks my lips before moving the vibrator back over my clit, just this time, directly on it as my clit is fully exposed to the camera. “Fuck!” I yell from the vibrations. I feel Charlie move the vibrator in little circles making me writhe a little.

Charlie: “That’s it love.” He says softly caressing my stomach with his left thumb while his right hand is busy with the toy.

Y/n: “Charlie-“

Charlie: “I know baby. Let go.” He says giving a gentle kiss to my shoulder as he roughly puts the vibrator against my clit to help me cum. I scream out Charlie’s name as I come undone for the first time tonight and he leaves the toy running for a little longer before turning it off and setting it aside.

Y/n: “C-Charlie… finger me…” I say breathless.

Charlie: “You’re needy tonight aren’t you?” He asks chuckling a little before putting his fingers back on my clit like he did earlier. He starts rubbing his fingers against my clit for a moment before pumping a few fingers in.

Y/n: “Oh god Char…” Even with his arm around my waist, I’m still grabbing to try to steady myself.

Charlie: “You like that baby?” He asks as his fingers pump inside me. I moan out a quick yes as I lean my back against his chest and lean my head on his shoulder.

Y/n: “Char… I’m close…”

Charlie: “I know baby. I got you.” He whispers to me as he continues pumping his fingers. After a few pumps, I come all over his fingers and he moves them not long after and brings them up to my mouth. I open my mouth and suck his fingers, sucking up my cum. When he brings his fingers out, he speaks again. “God you’re hot.” He says catching me off guard making me look at him shocked.

Y/n: “W-what?” I ask him shocked. We’ve been dating for a while and had sex before of course but he’s never told me I was hot.

Charlie: “I mean it love. You’re so fucking hot it’s unbelievable.” He says smiling to me making my smile fade just a little as I slightly look away a little. It’s then silence for a moment before he speaks again. “You… think I’m lying to you, don’t you?”

Y/n: “It’s not that I think you’re lying it’s just… unexpected I guess… I’ve never thought of myself that way…” I say before I feel Charlie softly caress my hip with his thumb.

Charlie: “You should love. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Inside and out.” He says before moving my face so I look at him again. “I just want you to see yourself the way I see you.” He says softly before cupping my face a little. “You’re perfect.” He says sincerely looking into my eyes.

Y/n: “You think so?” I ask my voice barely above a whisper.

Charlie: “I know so.” He says before pecking my lips a little again before we start making out a little again. As we make out, Charlie speaks again. “I want to show you just how amazing you are…” He says before kissing me again. “Just how hot you really are.” He says pushing my back flat against the mattress slowly as he kisses me. He caresses my hips as he softly moves his kisses down. He kisses my cheek, my jaw, my neck, all the way down to my chest making me moan out a little. “My babygirl.” He says kissing my chest. “So naked under me. So pretty.” He says kissing my chest again. “So hot.” He says before sucking on my chest a little, definitely gonna leave a hickey, as I moan out again.

Y/n: “Charlieee…” I say making him chuckle a little, making me feel the vibrations against my skin. Then, I feel his right hand’s fingers against my clit making me gasp a little.

Charlie: “Oh god you’re so wet again.” He says groaning a little before rubs me and fingers me a little as he nips at my neck.

Y/n: “Charlie…” I gasp out as he puts a little pressure to my clit as he starts kissing down to my boobs again.

Charlie: “So fucking sexy.” He says sucking on my boobs a little. I wrap my arms around his back as he pleasures me, occasionally messing with his hair. He moves his hand away from my clit and back to my waist, caressing it as he kisses my boobs. “So beautiful.” After a minute, Charlie gets off of me and sits up a little as he takes off his shirt and throws it somewhere in the room. He then goes back to kissing me again as I wrap my arms around his neck. “I am so glad the camera is catching all of this.” He says in between kisses.

Y/n: “I forgot all about it.” I say before moaning again.

Charlie: “You want the feeling of a vibrator against you again?” He asks me as he’s kissing me. I quickly nod my head yes as Charlie reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a purple silicone vibrator. He turns it on and sticks it against my clit before pushing it in. He kisses me again as he pumps the vibrator in and out. “God I love you.” He says in between kisses.

Y/n: “I love you too Char.” I say breathlessly as he continues pumping the vibrator. “G- Fuck!” I moan out throwing my head back. After a few more pumps, I can feel it coming. “Char-“

Charlie: “Cum baby.” He says before I come undone and he pumps a few more times to ride out my high before pulling the vibrator out and setting it aside. Once he gets it set down, he puts his mouth over my clit and licks it a few times to get some of the cum before lifting his head up and standing up. I watch him as he undoes the button and zipper on his jeans before sliding both his jeans and boxers down. “Think you can cum for me one more time?” He asks getting back on the bed.

Y/n: “Yeah.” I say smiling as I still try to catch my breath. I then see Charlie smile again before speaking again.

Charlie: “Good.” He says hovering over me. He then kisses me for another moment before he speaks again. “I want you to watch the camera as I fuck you love. I want you to see just how hot and beautiful you are.” He says before he goes to my sweet spot on my neck and sucks on it as he pushes his dick in me. I watch the camera as Charlie thrusts in and out and sucks on my neck. I turn my head back to Charlie above me and watch him, admiring him. He thrusts a few more times before moving his head to look at me and smiles as he thrusts. He turns his head to look at the camera before speaking again. “Look how hot we are together love.” He says turning to look at me again to motion me to look back at the camera. I chuckle a little watching it before I cup his cheek with my right hand and speak.

Y/n: “I love you Char.”

Charlie: “I love you too babe.” He says and we kiss again, and, without warning, I break again and not long after, Charlie does too before pulling out and laying next to me. We lay there catching our breaths for a moment before I hear Charlie. “Best. Night. Ever.” He says making me chuckle again as I move to lay my head on his chest. “Oh I can’t wait to watch that when I’m away from you again.”

Y/n: “You’re such a goofball Charlie.” I say chuckling.

[galvanizedfriend]

Klaroline WIP Wednesday

This is my humble contribution to this wip Weds! It's a tiny little snippert from the next chapter of Speed Dating, which has been sitting untouched for way too long. Genuinely hoping this might give me the will to keep going because I am this 🤏 close to the finish line (before editing starts and the finish line gets away from me again but shhhh, we're not going there yet).

--

She doesn't see Elijah again for the next two days. Whatever he's in town for, he either glides around the apartment like a ghost or their schedules are totally at odds. If not for the extravagantly fancy woolen overcoat by the door and what she has quickly learned is a very particular brand of moodiness for Klaus, she would've thought he'd already left.

It's probably for the best, considering the horror of that first meeting, but curiosity is an unscratchable itch. Elijah has intrigued her for years, more so than any of Klaus’ other siblings. Putting a face - well, a little more than a face, really - to the person is a given, but she can't help the desire to dig deeper. It’s in her nature to be nosy. About him, about Klaus, about the whole family. 

Despite the fact she's lived with one and been friends with another for years, the Mikaelsons remain a mystery to her. The more she knows, the more confusing it gets. Nothing about them seems to make much sense, and Caroline hasn't even decided if that's a super-rich, children of the 1% thing, or if the Mikaelsons are especially wacky even among their peers.

After two days, though, she's just about lost hope of bumping into Elijah again. She doubts he'll be staying for much longer, especially with Klaus' cordial show of hospitality. Not that Elijah seemed bothered - being rude to siblings for no apparent reason seems to be one of those things that are normal by Mikaelson standard. It's just how they operate.

She's just back from a shift at the hospital, idly scrolling through her Instagram while she waits for the microwave to deliver her sad leftover dinner. Bitterly, she realizes it has been months since she last updated her feed. Her last photo is with Tyler, for crying out loud. Should she even keep it there? What's the etiquette for when you break up with someone for no earth-shattering reasons, the relationship just fizzling out and running its course? Is it rude to delete all evidence of him from her social media records? Is it expected? Will he be upset? Has he deleted her from his social media? 

In fact, now that she thinks about it... Is Tyler even seeing anyone?

"Huh," she mumbles to herself, fully internalizing in that second how truly messy her life has become that she hasn't even cyber-stalked her ex to know what he's been up to since they broke up. That's a whole new level of rock bottom unlocked, right there.

"Miss Forbes?"

Caroline nearly drops her phone when she looks up to find Elijah standing by the kitchen door. She swears to God the man is unnaturally feline; she didn't even hear him approach.

Unlike in their first encounter, he's now fully clothed and, unsurprisingly, he looks just as good as he did without a stitch on. Maybe better. His suit looks as though it was sewn directly onto his body by an Italian master tailor. The range of that man.

"Hey!" She cringes at her high pitch, standing up straight. 

His smile is affable as he steps further into the kitchen. "Do I interrupt?"

"What? No. I was just scrolling."

Caroline feels suddenly very self-conscious of just how crazy frumpy she must look standing in front of Elijah. The man is a poster boy for wellness and prosperity, while she is... Well. Not.

Suffice to say she's wearing a Timberwolves t-shirt from her long-gone cheerleading days in high school with at least five visible holes on it.

"I've been meaning to apologize for that horrid incident the other day," he starts. Caroline wouldn’t have brought the incident up, assuming he would rather forget it ever happened, but if it causes him any measure of discomfort to have been butt naked in front of a complete stranger, he does not show, which - now that she thinks about, is something else that feels very Mikaelson-esque. They do all seem to be incredibly comfy in their own skins. "Niklaus warned me that you would be home soon, but my despair for a proper shower was stronger than caution. I should've been more careful."

"You don't have to apologize. It's fine. It was nothing." That would've been a good place to stop. A very mature and dignified let's leave it at that and never mention it again. But her stupid mouth just keeps going. "I see naked people all the time at the hospital. It's totally unremarkable." Elijah's eyebrows inch upwards into a mildly curious expression. "I don't mean that you are unremarkable!" she corrects, and then, getting immediately horrified at the implications, adds, "You're not - I mean, you're ok, you're - obviously. Not that I was looking, I wasn’t - I just mean - You know what? I'm just gonna shut up now." She snaps her lips sealed, half-wishing that a hole would open underneath her feet and suck her into the magma of the earth.

[raapija]

Just a regular day

Fernando Alonso/Lance Stroll

No warnings needed, just fluff <3

It's been a long day at the karting track and Lance goes to find Fernando to take him home.

This is part of the pookie au ->

Lance stretched back in his chair and yawned. He was finally done cataloging every piece of paper and recording everything on the computer database. He rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch.

"Half seven..." he mumbled to himself and relaxed for a moment longer. He looked out the office window and down towards the track. The sun was setting and painted the sky pink. It was so quiet compared to just a few hours before with about 20 karts speeding around the track and dozens of family members and friends cheering for them.

Lance could see some movement from the other side of the track where the garages and storage buildings were. He sat up to see better and could make out a familiar figure wheeling along one of the karts used in the race. Oh, Fernando was still working on something. The Canadian decided to wrap up his things and head down to see what he was doing. The whole building was empty, apart from a little old cleaning lady tidying up the offices. Lance said his good byes to her and made his way outside.

***

"Hey," Lance said as he stopped at the garage opening, looking at Fernando hunched over the kart he had been moving. "Whatcha doing?"

Fernando peered up and smiled as he saw Lance, his hands busy loosening some screws. As he looked back down, his face contorted in frustration as one of the screws wouldn't come out. "The engine was making a sound so I'm just checking it."

"It's almost seven, we should go home." Lance said and walked over to him, crouching down and watching Fernando tinker with the engine. The Spaniard's hands were covered in black oil and grease and Lance thought it made him look quite rugged. In a good way.

"Yeah, it's not gonna take long. You can go if you want to. I'll get a ride from someone." Fernando said and Lance huffed.

"I'm not leaving you here, you'll stay the whole night. Besides, it's only us and Juanita still here. And she can't strap you onto her Vespa." the Canadian said. Fernando chuckled and then pointed towards a toolbox off to the side.

"Well, help me then and we'll go." he said and Lance reached for the toolbox, handing Fernando whatever he needed. They worked together on the engine with Lance giving suggestions on the possible fix and Fernando trying them out. Finally, they found the right part that was causing the noise and Fernando ripped the whole thing off and changed in a new one. They fired up the kart and were satisfied to hear it run smoothly.

***

"Well!" Lance chirped with a clap as Fernando got up to clean his hands. It was almost eight now and he was feeling famished. They had only had a quick lunch break between practise and qualifying and that was almost 7 hours ago. "Can we go home now?"

"Yeah, sí." Fernando said as he wiped his hands clean with WD-40. Lance grimaced as he knew how rough Fernando's hands would get after that. The Spaniard rinsed his hands with water and then walked over to Lance, pulling him close by the waist. He looked up to Lance and gave him a warm smile. "How was your day?"

Lance smirked at him and loosely wrapped his arms around Fernando's shoulders. "Fine. Busy, but fine. I had a lot of fun actually."

"Yeah?" Fernando hummed. Lance could see how tired he was, eyes all droopy and his whole being a bit disheveled. "A lot of official, very important race director business?"

"Yeah, sure." Lance laughed. His job for today had been to keep a record of everything happening on track. Participants, timing, possible penalties, finishing positions... It was a lot but he was pretty good at handling ten different things at once. And he had a couple people help him that worked full-time at the museum, so it wasn't really all that bad.

"Hmm..." Fernando hummed again and got up on his tip toes to give Lance a good and long kiss. Content with the smooch, he slumped back down and rested his forehead on Lance's shoulder. "Take me home, por favor."

"Okay..." Lance said and held him for a bit longer. Fernando smelled like oil, petrol and sweat, not the best combination of flavours but Lance loved it. It reminded him of his own karting days in Canada.

"Come on, then." Lance said and they let go of each other. They gathered their belongings and closed up the garage. It was pretty dark outside with only a few lamps lighting up the track. They walked hand in hand, talking about what they were going to have for a late dinner. Lance loved these kinds of sweet moments with Fernando. Nothing but them and ordinary every day conversation. Like they weren't famous F1 drivers with a million eyes on them at every waking moment, but just a couple of regular boring people with regular boring lives. Oh, what he would give for it to be like this always and forever. But then again, driving an F1 car was pretty nice, too.

"Lancito, churri?" Fernando called for him gently and Lance broke out of his daydream. He had fallen a few steps behind and now had to catch up.

"Yeah, yeah, coming." the Canadian hurried over to the car, throwing his things on the backseat as Fernando held the door open. They then went to their own respective places; Lance on the wheel and Fernando riding shotgun. It didn't take long after pulling out the parking lot that the Spaniard already fell asleep. Lance listened to the radio on low volume, driving along an empty road and cherished the moment once more. Him and his husband going home, the home that they had bought together. Just regular people driving back to their regular home. It was perfect for him.

▹.࿙𝆤𝆤࿚'𝆤࿙𝆤𖹭𝆤࿚𝆤'࿙𝆤𝆤࿚.࿙𝆤𝆤࿚'𝆤࿙𝆤𖹭𝆤࿚𝆤'࿙𝆤𝆤࿚.▹

Thanks for reading <3 I've been thinking of writing something with the karting school for a while now and finally got inspired enough to do it. Hope y'all like it 🥰

[adventuringblind]

Drive With You Forever

Chapter 7.5: The one about Daniel

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader

Chapter summary: Daniel is a pervert and the quartet wants to thank him

Warnings: Daniel is kinda gross in this (I'm sorry, I promise I love him), BDSM themes, dom/sub vibes, consent is given, then taken away, use of safe words, choking, PinV, blacking out and dissasociation, hate fuck, anal,

Notes: I've been on A03 far too much in the last three weeks for research purposes. Now we are here, and I have no idea what I'm doing. But! I give this stupid interlude while I try to figure out who on earth to write smut between three and four people. Don't judge me, okay? I'm trying T_T

Previous <-

Masterlist

Originally, the entire group was dumbfounded, knowing the things Daniel openly talked about. Even though Max had been his teammate for years, Daniel said he couldn't get past seeing him as a seventeen year old kid. Then which talking about such things is just gross.

It was day five of Charles and Max staying with the Australian. The two having found that making sure the door is locked behind them is an important detail.

The text conversation that night made it seem as though they would never consider this an option.

Charles: Daniel is never allowed to go near the children

Lando: what children?

Chatles: you and y/n

Lando: just because we're the youngers dosen't mean we're kids -_-

Y/N: Wouldn't the things we do be very illegal if we were?

Lando: Exactly!

Maxy: I think the idea here is that Daniel doesn't deserve to be around you two. I don't trust him either.

Charles looks over to Max after the lack of respons from their younger counterparts.

Lando: *video message* pretty sure children don't do this.

Max: Ha! Charles just played the video so fast he forgot to check his volume and Daniel came running at an inhuman speed and fell into the door!

Charles: serves him right

Charles: also Lando how are you recording with your tongue down her throat?

Lando: skills ;)

Max: so we're all agreed that we're keeping Daniel at arms length right?

Y/N: without a doubt

Charles: further might be better

Lando: *video* nope he dosen't get to experience this

Things escalated when all four were there. Daniel seemed to love putting his ear to the door. Max had not hesitated to put a hand to his face for that one

Only for him to be more frustrated when Daniel started saying filthy things right after.

Daniel was utterly determined, and it was concerning.

The worst attempt was when Daniel said he was going to a party and wouldn't be back until the morning. Opting to stay with his friend instead of driving and wanting to respect that the four were trying to be out as little as possible.

Pent-up sexual tension came to a breaking point after Daniel had been gone for an hour.

Clothes were off far too quickly. Things had escalated way too far that any logical sense was lost to raging hormones.

They left the door unlocked.

Daniel thought he was so clever lying to them. And in his defense, he was. He waited outside the apartment door for an hour. The walls weren't thin, but with four of them, it was easy to tell what was going on.

He snuck back in quietly. And even managed to get the door open without them noticing.

It took Max three minutes to notice him. Five minutes to get his clothes on. Anither five to make sure his partners were okay. Then an hour of chewing out Daniel.

All four had a usual role that they slipped into. Max happened to be the most dominant of the four. His want for control is not just on the race track.

They'd managed to convince him to give up that control when they raced and someone finished higher, but it wasn't to often.

With this, Max was also dubbed the king of consent. He never did or tried anything without discussion. Always asked before continuing. Communication in the bedroom was easier for him than in everyday life.

So when Daniel decided to watch them without their knowledge, Max was all over him.

~

"I feel like we should get him something as a thank you." The girl brought up one afternoon.

The other three shoot her a look of shock.

"For what? Watching us be intimate?"

"No, but at least for letting us stay with him and for keeping us safe from everyone but him."

Lando couldn't help but agree. "No idea what to get him thought."

Charles rubs his face. More in exasperation than anything. Sometimes, he hates how giving the younger two can be.

"We could ask him? Maybe take him out to dinner or something?" Shrugs Max.

They asked that night while they were seated in the living room. Daniel had kept some space after Max had lectured him, so the thought of him asking for anything to do with sex was not what they thought would happen.

"Absolutely not."

"You said anything."

"I lied."

"You're speaking for all four of you, Max."

Max exchanges a look with Charles. The two are on the same page. The younger, however, are people pleasers.

"We need to talk about it first."

~

"I feel bad though."

"Y/N, it's your body. If you don't want to, then you say no. Simple as that."

"But I also want to thank him."

It's a difficult decision, to say the least, but Max eventually gives in to the idea of a discussion.

Max is cautious about his words and makes sure Daniel knows exactly what the rules are. Charles is still reminding the younger two that they can back out at any point. Lando is actually turned on by his partners protectivness over them and thinks but wants to show Daniel their appreciation. Then the female, who has managed to be the only one with three partners she trusts.

This is different.

She trusts Max isn't going to let anything bad happen. She trusts Charles to communicate if she's struggling; the Monegasque can read her body like a clock.

Thats what got them here. Specifically, he got Max in his least favorite place. Out of control.

It didn't help that him and Charles still had their clothes on. It didn't help that they were tied to dining room chairs and made to watch the scene unfold.

Everyone was shocked they gave in to it. But Daniel had agreed to every term and condition, so again, Max relented. Though a bit peeved at being called no fun.

Him and Charles keep exchanging glances. Charles didn't take kindly to being called an attention hog. Ultimately landing him next to Max.

The two watch on as Daniel put himself in charge. They had the luxury of not being tied down and the freedom of moving around.

They knew who was really in charge, though. Every time Daniel did something, they would look to Max and Charles for approval. Only continuing after having been given the nod to continue.

Daniel was the most excited. Finally, he had them where he wanted them. His teammate from years ago made to watch him take his lovers just ad Daniel was forced to watch him steal redbulls' priorities.

Charles who stole away his fans with his charming looks and contagious smile made to watch his lovers smile at him instead.

Lando. His current teammate. Now at his complete mercy after having outshown the entire season.

Then, lastly, the female currently underneath him. The one who he knew was a slut for different men. He finally was getting his chance with her.

It's was perfect. Until it wasn't.

Lando had started disassociating. He was exhausted, and Daniel was relentless. Lando had officially left when Daniel litterally slammed into him for the first time. It hurt way too much for how little they worked up to it. He couldn't communicate his needs, and the girl beside them couldn't either.

She was gone when Daniel started name calling. The filthy things that left his mouth similar to things her dad had said growing up. Similar to those of the toxic fans she worked so hard to combat.

Daniel basically threw Lando to the side and took her next. There was no foreplay for her. There was no build-up. Daniel kept hitting her for some reason she couldn't figure out.

Then, his hands were around her throat. She tried to turn away from him. Look at Max and Charles for help, but Daniel forced her gaze to him.

"Don't look at them. Look at me."

Lando was attempting to come back to himself. Daniel was still touching him roughly, and he wanted it to be over, but to get that, he needed to come back.

"God, I've been wanting to use you so bad for so long."

Black spots dance around her vision. It's funny because the things he's doing and saying sometimes we're nice when they came from her lovers. Why was this so different.

His hands were far too tight on her throat. She couldn't get air in. Her body was going limp on the bed as she tried to force oxygen into her system.

The word on the tip of her tongue. But she was gone before she could get it out.

Lando is the first to feel in happen given he's somewhat on top of her. Daniel doesn't stop, and he's now in panic mode.

He wills himself back. He lets out a shrill noise as he comes back to his senses. Though he curses himself for not just saying his word. But his panicked eyes are still able to meet those of Max and Charles who are looking around frantically.

It's Max who says it first. "Red!"

Bu Daniel either doesn't hear it or chooses to ignore it.

Lando is actively fighting the hold now. Daniel's hand on his face feels like it's burning him.

Then it's Max and Charles shouting the word.

The Australian finally halts in his tracks and removes his hands from the two youngers.

Lando is up in an instant, untying the two. Max first as he is going to drag Daniel off the female. The Charles who's soothing Lando. Helping him to cover up.

"What happened to respecting the safe word?" Max is furious. He can feel he anger boiling over as he shoves Daniel away.

The girl who wanted to please now lay unconscious and naked. Max can see her chest rising and falling it rapid breaths. The bruises and red patches had been blossoming across her skin.

Daniel looks ashamed of himself. He knew he shouldn't go into this with the mindset of taking back something. But he couldn't resist the temptation.

Charles tosses Max a blanket. He lays it down gently over the female to cover her body from Daniel's eyes.

Lando was hurting to the touch, and Charles could clearly see every unnecessary mark. Lando was practically passing out in his arms from the sheer mental and physical exhaustion.

Max shoved Daniel out of the room. He'd lecture him later about safe sex practices and how he needs to watch more carefully.

Something in Max told him he wasn't deliberately trying to hurt them. Daniel just wasn't right going in, and Max could see the regret on his face.

Lando was dripping with apologies. Something Max and Charles were quick to soothe. He wanted to please, and they knew that. It hurt then to see the Brit so distressed.

Max left the room to get supplies. Ice, water, food, and some rags to help the two get cleaned up. Daniel had his head in his hands when he came out.

"I'm truly sorry. I got caught up in my own emotions."

"Look, Daniel, I'm pissed at you for not being careful and disrespecting boundaries. However, at the end of the day, you are still my friend. But I swear to you, if you ever try anything like that again, I'll make sure you never drive another car for the rest of your life."

"Valid." Daniel looks around awkwardly. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you have them."

"Yeah, you're lucky you were on the receiving end of their giving. Neither of them finished because they were so focused on you."

"Yeah sexually they're great. But I mean in every way. I guess I'm jealous of what you four have."

"It is pretty amazing."

"I take it I'm in for another lecture?"

"No, and I think you'll like what ne and Charles are planning for you much better."

~

Everything hurt when she came back to the land of the living. Her throat and neck were stiff. Her lower half ached in a way she didn't know was possible. Then the memories came rushing back.

She's quick to sit up and look around for her partners. Panic settled in that she did something wrong and disappointed them.

Lando is next to her, still asleep. She vaugley remembers the pain on Landos face when Daniel first took him.

She figures they are going to hear about it later from Max and Charles. But to be fair, they had tried multiple times to get it to stop.

Lando is startled awake at the sounds of a shrill shriek from down the hall.

Both shoot out of bed, look at each other, and assess the damage.

The noise can wait. Hugs are neccecary first.

Lando runs his fingers over her throat, and she traces the outline of red hand prints along his waist.

"Are you feeling alright?" He asks her.

"Sore but okay. You?" Her voice is raspy due to the pressure from earlier.

"Same. I didn't think he would go that hard."

"He didn't listen to Max at all I don't think. And even though we all consented and agreed, I don't think he was fully there to do so."

"Do you think their mad at us?"

"No, we tried to stop it. We didn't do anything wrong."

"Charles wants us to talk about how we two need to put ourselves first."

She groans in exasperation. "Speaking if them, where are they?"

Soon, they find themselves sneaking off down the hall. Their lovers are nowhere insight. Anither shriek startles them.

"You don't think..?"

They come up to the door where the noises are coming from and peer inside.

It takes all their willpower not to laugh as Daniel is at the complete mercy of Charles and Max. His limbs tied tightly to the bed.

They're not even touching him, and he looks completely blissed out.

Max spots the two in the door and nods them inside with a smile. "We've agreed that Daniel needs to learn about respect during scenes. Care to join us?"

The two look at each other skeptically. Is this an order? Is Daniel okay with this?

Charles takes his fingers out of Daniel's mouth and comes to greet the two. "Same rules, different set-up. You two are taking not giving. You hear me?"

That one was definitely an order.

They stare at Daniel, whose muscles are twitching. "Does he... want this?"

"The better question is if you two want this? Otherwise me and Charles are going to make sure he knows what he did was wrong." Max winks.

They can't help but be a little excited at the prospect of watching Max and Charles make Daniel squirm.

~

Next ->

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Trainee Geralt & The Advanced Obstacle Courses

A little oneshot I just had to write out. It's only about 1k words long.

I hope you enjoy it!

The trainers grew frustrated with Geralt after he'd finished his trial of the grasses(both of them), as he'd slowed down on the obstacle courses.

He used to run the trainee courses with the frantic reckless hope that all the trainees did. Pushed, as they were, by their trainer's harsh words and expectations.

He now plodded through the advanced courses, pausing on every obstacle to watch how the next moved, even after having completed the same courses over and over again. The trainers had tried shouting and beating and bribing and threatening and cajoling and scorning, but still he crept through each course. 

The trainers went to Vesemir, as he was leader of Geralt's Cohort, and Vesemir tried to encourage a bit more confidence into Geralt; he knew that Geralt could run those courses just as fast as any of the other trainees, if he'd just apply himself. 

But still Geralt refused to speed up. 

There came a day that Vesemir was headed to the library and, while crossing a walkway, spotted Eskel running the third advanced course. Curious, and knowing the trainees rarely went anywhere alone, he stopped to see what they were up to. 

The trainees weren't forbidden from running the courses independently, but they rarely chose to in the rare bits of free time they had. 

Eskel seemed to be trying to improve on his speed record, sprinting as hard as he could through the obstacles, and getting summarily swatted off for prioritizing speed over caution.

Vesemir winced as Eskel tucked into a hasty roll to break his fall and crashed into a support pillar of the neighboring course,

"Doing better, Keli." Came a soft rasping voice, 

"Yeah," came a more acerbic voice "Last time you took way longer to fall from there."

Vesemir looked over and wasn't surprised to find Geralt and Lambert stood nearby, they were a trio none had seen pairing up, but they hadn't yet had a spat bad enough to permanently split them. 

Geralt was tallying up the marbles from the counter; a contraption of turning gears and popping ropes the mages had put together to accurately time things. Marbles dropped out of it at specified intervals, the more marbles, the more time had passed. 

The record for the third advanced course by a full witcher was set by Naumir at eight marbles, the trainee record was fourteen. Eskel seemed to have run about three fifths of the course in eleven, which was about where he should in his training. 

Eskel groaned as he disentangled himself from the pillar and pushed himself to his feet, the many scuff marks and skids of dirt on his clothes showing that he'd been at this for a while. Lambert looked to be only a touch cleaner, so the pup must have given it a few tries as well. Vesemir studied Geralt, hoping for even the smallest smear of dust, but was dissatisfied to find he showed no signs of having fallen from the course. 

Vesemir didn't know where the boy's sudden fear of falling had come from, it wasn't a large fall, and he didn't seem to fear heights when climbing or running the walls, but still he refused to take any risks on the obstacle courses.

Vesemir shook his head and began to walk away, but paused when he heard Lambert pipe up through Eskel's plotting and self chastising,

"Will you run it, Geralt?"

Vesemir turned back and watched Geralt study the course with a pensive look in his eye, he seemed about to decline when Eskel spoke,

"Would you? Show me how it's done, Wolf"

Geralt gazed at the course for a moment more then tilted his head to eye his brothers, Eskel and Lambert stared back with pleading eyes, and Geralt finally nodded a slow agreement. Lambert broke into cheers and Eskel clapped him on the arm with a beaming grin.

Vesemir watched with trepidation, and a small amount of hope, as Geralt clambered to the start of the course and stared it down while he waited for Lambert to shove all the marbles back into the counter and Eskel to set everything moving again.

"Ready… Go!" Shouted Lambert as he pulled loose the starting cord of the counter.

Vesemir felt his heart sink in his chest, when instead of launching forward Geralt slid into a crouch, his eyes unwavering from their lock on the course's first obstacle. 

Vesemir might have left then, but there was something about this that felt different, so he stayed and watched his boy watch the rhythm of course.

For the first time Vesemir was able to have his full attention on Geralt as he faced a course and he realized that the gleam in Geralt's eyes wasn't fear, but a fierce calculation.

Geralt's head started a small sway in time with the first pendulum and then, all of a sudden, he was off.

Vesemir felt his jaw slacken, he'd never seen a trainee run this course that fast, or that fluidly. It was as though Geralt knew exactly what was going to happen an instant before it did, he swung around pendulums, under bars, leapt gaps, and dodged spikes without a single toe misplaced. Not a move was wasted.

Vesemir found himself holding his breath as Geralt approached the final stretch, it was designed to force Witchers to use their signs, the obstacles unnavigable without them. 

Geralt threw himself into the fray without a single beat of hesitation. His fingers flowed through his signs, but he left them half powered, giving them the bare minimum of the strength that was needed to let him eel through the great moving pieces, that could and would break any limbs they caught.

Geralt was nearly out when a piece moved a touch faster than he'd anticipated and clipped his heel, sending him tumbling madly into the last set. Vesemir wouldn't be surprised if he left an exact imprint of his fingertips in the balustrade he was clutching, with how tightly he was strangling it. 

Geralt bounced off one clapper into another, and kicked off a third to tumble desperately over the finish line and, blessedly, off the obstacle course. 

Only then did Vesemir register Lambert and Eskel's screaming whoops and howling. Geralt's brothers rushed to congratulate him and Vesemir sagged to the floor of the walkway.

As he calmed, Vesemir began to make out words over the thunder of his heart in his ears,

"TEN!" They were screaming "TEN! GERALT!" and Vesemir felt a grin creep onto his face.

I do have more on this, so if you have any questions feel free to ask!

💝 Thank you for reading 💝

[asterias-record-shop]

I just finished your Finnick series and omg!!! It’s absolutely amazing! If it’s not too much trouble though, I would love a scenario in that universe where Finnick does fuck the reader in front of someone or multiple someone’s. I just love possessive Finn 😩

╭════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╮

            — like I do

╰════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╯

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪

Finnick had a problem with being impatient, extremely impatient.

You both had gotten used to having sex daily, and as a result, without it, he was getting desperate, and it didn't help the fact that Katniss, Johanna, and Peeta couldn't keep their eyes off of you. You weren't the epitome of sex for nothing, of course he knew people were looking at you.

"Y/N, please, I need to fuck you." He groaned against your neck, both of you hidden in the trees of one of the sections, his eyes maintaining eye contact with a hidden Peeta. "I promise, I'll make you feel good, I swear."

"Finnick, we can't-!"

"Yes we can," Finnick responded, grunting as he started slipping off your suit from the top, pressing firm kisses to your skin. "Everyone's looking at you like they want to fuck you but they can't. Only I can fuck you and make you feel good."

He blocked your body with his own, slipping his fingers inside of your cunt for a mere second before pulling them out. It wouldn't be the first time he fucked you without prep, besides, you always moaned louder when he didn't prep you.

"Come on baby, I need you to moan for me. I need you to show everyone who you belong to."

Oh, he didn't even need to prep you. You were so wet and desperate, your legs wrapped around his waist and holding you up against the tree. He kept you off of it just enough, making sure your back wasn't scratching against the bark, his mouth pressed firmly against yours.

He was rough, his hips thrusting into you at a speed he couldn't stop or control, the fact that he hadn't fucked you in so long making him desperate. You could practically feel yourself break, his girth stretching you out in a way you could barely remember, sobbing as his tongue traced your own before he pulled away, staring back at the crowd you both had now gathered.

"Enjoying the show?"

i meant for this to be longer but i swear, i accidentally posted it, i'll try to make a part 2!!!

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