#i just want to be a part of this crowd once

[lesbewriting]

brat

[Dom!Sevika x Sub!Fem!Reader] [ 1.2k words]

SUMMARY: Are you sevika's good girl?

WARNINGS: 18+ | Minors DNI | thigh riding??, cockwarming(but it's a strap), semi-public sex???, smut, sub!reader, brat!reader, brattamer!sevika

A-N: Not me, wondering why, I've never wanted to write smut before. But then I realise I've never wanted to write it if it's of a man.

So yeah, it's 1st time, so it's probably pretty bad, and some parts may not make a ton of sense. But it's Sevika 😍, so I tried

[masterlist]

The crowd in The Last Drop bar was rowdy and quite loud that night, like it always seemed to be. It was filled with all the regular customers, either playing cards, dancing, or drinking as much alcohol as they could possibly get their hands on. 

One of these regulars was Sevika, who sat further towards the back, in her usual booth, alongside a couple of others. A cigarillo nestled neatly between her dark lips, blowing out a bit of smoke, as she scanned the table of her opponents before her. 

You felt a brief squeeze on your thigh for a moment, from where you sat prettily and patiently on Sevika's lap. You bore no underwear, as Sevika's strap nestled deep in your cunt, as you sat there.

Your thighs clenching together at the way your walls folded around the rubber. The only thing that covered your bare bottom half was the short and thinly strapped dress you wore. 

“Be a good girl, sit there, and warm daddy's cock.” She whispers in your ear momentarily, right when she leaned forward to play another card. “You need to be quiet.”

You only nod silently. Despite the warmth that continued to spread between your legs. Having to bite your lip carefully in order to suppress a whine from slipping out. You knew you had to be quiet now.

You knew you had to be, or otherwise you'd let all other attendees at the bar know what was happening. Something which you didn't want, not in the slightest. 

You continued to try and be quiet, staying as still as possible on her lap. The strap stretches your pussy greatly. But it was beginning to get difficult, from how much you itched to ride her thigh. Gain more friction against your bare lower half. 

You mentally curse yourself. Why did you have to suggest doing this while she was playing cards? Why couldn't you keep your damn mouth shut and just stick to the regular kinks and stuff in private. You were really regretting bringing up your wish to try it. 

“Sev...please” you whisper, but it comes out more like a whine. As you begin to shift your position on her lap, in an attempt to feel her more. You needed it. You needed more.

Sevika’s regular arm reaches down to your nearest thigh and clutches at the pudginess of it. Tightly wrapping her long fingers around it, almost enough to leave a mark. Then she leans back down, beside your ear, and whispers into it once more. 

“Nuh, uh, stay quiet. This was your idea. No moving.” The words came out sternly, from her lips. As if testing you, testing to see if you’d listen to her again.

Her eyes were calculating, fierce, and daring as they bore onto you before she focused on the card game that still happened before her. The others who played remained none-the-wiser to you both. 

“B-but—” You start, shifting again on her lap. The feeling of her cock inside you, was overbearing. You itched to feel it stretch you further.

You were silenced once more when another sharp squeeze, tighter now, was felt on your thigh. As if a warning, from Sevika, to behave or you'd regret it soon. You bite back another whine from escaping your lips as you sit there. 

Another minute or so passed by quickly, and your own neediness was growing increasingly stronger. Your legs clench tighter together as you shift on her lap. Slowly, you found yourself rubbing against Sevika's clothed thigh, shifting so that her cock inside you would rub further up against your walls.

With your teeth proceeding to gnaw at your bottom lip in an attempt to not be loud or let everyone know your pleasure. You slowly went a little further, feeling the strap inside you more and more, with each movement you made.

Sevika had noticed.

“What do you think you're doing?” Sevika growls out into your ear. Both her hands suddenly make their way to your hips tightly. Which halted your movements on her thigh. It was evident with how she sounded to you that she was getting irritated. “Did I say you could move?”

You shook your head slowly. When she gripped at your hips. You didn't release your hold on your lip. 

“Then, why did you?” Sevika growls out, again into your ear. Scolding you for going against her orders. Her grip on your clothed hips is getting tighter. It's almost tight enough to leave red markings. 

“‘M sorry.” You apologise quietly, almost inaudible to her ears. But Sevika heard, and next thing you knew.

She’s standing from her spot at the table, lifting you with her so that your legs wrap around her waist, and she’s carrying you with strong arms towards the nearest room in the tavern. 

The door was kicked shut with a slam, by one of her feet. As she’s shoving you onto the nearest surface, a desk inside. Her strap is still buried deep inside you.

“Is this what you want? Brat. Are you so needy for my cock, that you can't be patient and wait till I'm done.” She spits, irritated.

Her hips thrust as she begins to pound into you with the strap. Her thrusts come out aggressive and harsh. Almost taking you by surprise at how fast she’s going. 

You manage to groan out at the pace she’s going. Of the sounds of her cock pounding in and out of your tight cunt. A coil tightening up inside of your stomach, as you slowly go towards your limit.

“I should very well not let you cum, when you're being so bratty, and not listening to my orders.” She spits again, thrusting inside you again and again. Not giving you a chance to take a breath, with how rapid her cock slides in and out of you.

“Sev…”  You start, whining. The continuous sounds of squelching filling the room you two sit in, when the rubber of the strap slides through the wet folds of your pussy. 

With each intense and fast-paced pound of her strap into you. You can feel yourself so close to reaching your limit, and the more you get closer, you groan and whine. 

“Gonna come around my cock brat?” She asks, her aggressive thrusts not slowing inside you. Eyes piercing as she glares and intensely watches your face, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at each rapid thrust. 

You only nod, gasping, at the feeling of her inside your clenched, and wet pussy. Feeling each time the cock slides inside of your tight hole, you come closer and closer towards your limit. 

Eventually, after another couple minutes or so, you do reach it. Your back arching further against the desk, with your legs wrapping tighter around Sevika's waist, with each thrust she continues to pound into your cunt. 

Your whines and groans are coming out just a little bit louder as you find yourself riding your high throughout. Sevika's thrusts begin to slow down now, until you’ve finished your high.

“You learn your lesson now, or do I need to punish you more?” Sevika lets out, her cock now just sitting inside your cunt, no longer pounding harshly into you. Her eyes locking onto the fucked out and dazed expression, that she can tell now resides onto your features.

You nod your head, tiredly. Resting your head back against the wood of the desk beneath you. Maybe you had, maybe you hadn't learned your lesson. But if it gets you fucked like that by her, then you think you'd probably like to be a brat more often. 

[p1astr81]

second chances

in which: Lando tries to get his ex girlfriend back.

pairing: Lando Norris x pop star!fem!reader

genre: angst/fluff

warnings: cursing

an: this is part 2 of “second place”, but I think it could also make sense as a stand-alone.

part 1

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧ *

Performing with the wound of a breakup fresh in your heart was difficult, but the roaring crowds and their endless support made it a little easier.

You just finished up yet another show, the twelfth one since you’d broken off things with Lando three weeks ago. Kiké—knowing how hard the breakup was for you—walked in silence next to you and you navigated the backstage area. He simply offered his presence, which was a mild—but much appreciated—comfort to you.

Your eyes were trained on the way the dim lights made your boots sparkle. The last song on the setlist was the most emotional for you. A love song written for Lando. You nearly cried while singing it, and were struggling to keep it together even now.

Kiké only left your side once you reached the door of your dressing room. “Can you travel on the bus with me again?” You asked him softly. Between the last city and this one, Kiké joined you on your tour bus. Usually, he’d fly between locations with the other dancers, but he was more then happy to spend time with you.

He nodded. “Absolutely. We have to finish our show.” He joked, getting a smile out of you.

You bade him goodbye, and stepping into your dressing room. As soon as the door was closed, you let the tears fall, letting the door support your weight as you tried to not crumple to the floor.

A soft call of your name broke through the sounds of your sobs. You gasped, straightening up and reaching for the door handle. Your flight response automatically ceased when your gaze met Lando’s.

Your eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t you be in Spain?” The tone of your voice was venomous, but he chose not to take offense to it.

“Yes, but I wanted to see you.”

You scoffed at that. “Who even let you in here?”

“Your security. I assume you haven’t told them?” You didn’t answer his inquiry, but that was answer enough.

“Look, I know I treated you like shit and I was never here for you, but I want to be.” A little late for that, you wanted to say. But you settled for a roll of your eyes. “And these past weeks have made me realize that life without you sucks.”

A heavy sigh fell from your lips ass you pushed off the door. You wandered over to your desk, and began taking your makeup off. Lando, left in silence and without a response, continued to sit quietly on the couch.

You glanced at him through he mirror. He was fumbling around with his fingers. “You can’t just show up here and expect me to take you back.”

Lando met your eyes through the reflection. “I know. But I really do mean it. Even if we’re just friends, that’s enough for me.” The fact you hadn’t told him to fuck off yet was honestly a step in the right direction for him.

Your eyes found the cotton pad more interesting than him. “I don’t know. You made me feel like I wasn’t worthy of your time. You can’t just fix that with a sorry.”

He stood from his spot on the couch and cautiously stepped to your side. “I’ll be better. Every show I can squeeze into my schedule, I’ll be there.” He nodded.

Having missed the feel of your skin on his, he wanted to reach out, place a hand on your shoulder, or your arm. But he refrained from doing so.

Considering his proposition, you bit your lip. “You said that before, Lan.” You muttered. He heard the disappointment in your voice and wanted to curse himself out for it.

He nodded. “And I regret not following through but I promise this time. And if I don’t honor it, that’s it. I’ll never bother you again.”

It was a terrible idea. You knew it was. Opening your heart up to him again, giving him all the power to tear it in two once more, it was risky. But with a sigh, you accepted. “One slip up, Norris, and I’m blacklisting you from my shows.” You joked.

———

In the coming weeks, Lando honored his promise to its fullest extent, and then some. Even the shows you didn’t expect him to be at—the ones that fell on a Sunday night, only a few hours after a race—he was there.

He’d even spend a couple hours after the shows with you in your tour bus before he inevitably needed to catch a flight.

So after a month of him showing up consistently, and proving himself, you finally gave into him.

It was after one of your shows, you were sat in the tour bus as it stood stationary. The both of you were planted on the couch, your legs across Lando’s lap. You’d been talking for the last hour and a half about seemingly nothing. And then you licked your lips, and bit your lip softly before calling his name. He looked to you with big brown eyes like a little doe. “I think you’ve proved that you’ve changed.” Lando’s brows raised, hopeful. “And… if you’d still want to-“

“Yes.” He replied without even letting you finish. “Sorry.” His gaze shifted to his hands which sat on your bare legs. His cheeks went red. “Continue.”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, I think you got the point.” You sifted in your seat, and leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek.

[thoughts-nshit]

Lone Bunny

Summary: Reader bumps into a man on the street, he was a stranger to her, but she was not a stranger to him.

TW: Stalker!Konig, Oblivious!Reader, eventual smut, murder of a character, NSFW!!, MDNI, Very slowburn, reader is seen as chubby and a virgin, manipulation, loneliness,

Notes: 730 words, i am a first time writer so this could be shit, if this is recieved well ill work on making a prologue or stuff like that, lots of love xxxxx

Prologue

Part One: Scoped

Alone.

That’s all you were. All that you convinced yourself you were. It didn’t help that whenever you brought up your loneliness to family or friends, the response was always ‘Well you need to learn to love yourself until you can love someone else’. How infuriating, how could you love yourself unless someone set an example and showed you how?

You were so touch-starved that the thought of anyone touching you, showing affection, or pleasuring you made you sick to your stomach. You were repulsed by touch, and you'd shy away from a hug, a handshake, or a platonic cheek kiss. You would do anything to get out of situations like that, like an animal gnawing its leg out of a trap.

That’s why you were in the middle of uni, not in a house share, but a single flat, with barely any friends, and repulsed by the thought of touch, ‘just too complicated to love’ you told yourself as you hurried out your flat to your lecture, another failed human interaction with a tinder date, you wore comfy clothes, it wasn’t like anyone was going to look at you. Why would they?

You sipped your coffee as you darted in between the crowds of people, how you hated city life. The noise, the towering buildings, the rudeness, the publicity. All of it was too much for your soft little head. Until your soft little head collided with a very hard chest.

“Pass auf, wo du hin gehst, Hase,”

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, my head is just in the clouds…with class and all.” You rambled for about a minute trying to apologise but you kept running down a rabbit hole. Until he grabbed your shoulder gently. Now this man was massive, his hand was as big as your head, and he towered way over you, and for being 5ft9 that happened on a rare occasion. You blushed a bit at the contact, not receding.

“It doesn’t matter Hase, just watch where you're going, don’t want you getting trampled.” This deep voice behind a hood chuckles a bit as he soothes you before taking his hand off your shoulder and walking off, gone as quickly as he arrived.

You were flustered, your cheeks burning up, but you lied and told yourself it was the cold. It was odd you didn’t flinch when he touched you. You should I mean this was a 6ft10 man who felt like pure muscle when your head collided with his chest. No one had ever made you this flustered, especially not a man you just met, heat pooled between your legs. Surely you weren’t that needy that the first time a stranger gently touched your shoulder, you were soaked, I mean you didn’t even get a glimpse of his face, so you blamed it on your subtle voice kink.

You hurried to your lecture but couldn’t focus once you sat, your hand between your thighs, thick thighs squished together, trying to get any friction without being too obvious, you mentally scolded yourself. Sure, you masturbated, but never really finished, finding it too overstimulating to finish yourself off, your mind scrambling too much for you to continue circling your nub.

After what felt like torture the lecture finished, you managed to push the stranger to the back of your mind. But you were still very wet. You went home for lunch, and all social interaction, or lack of it, drained you, you collapsed on the couch as soon as you got home.

Awoken by your cat licking your hand for food, you got up and fed it until you went down to the lobby to collect post, you walked down the stairs and fumbled with your keys to find the one that opened your post-box, you stopped in your tracks when you saw a single lavender flower sticking out.

Your favourite flower, maybe it was a coincidence, you were subscribed to a lot of grandmaish magazines for hobbies, maybe it was like a gift, but you didn’t want to risk anything, you saw traffickers did stuff like this. You grabbed it with your sleeve and put it in a nearby bin before cautiously opening your postbox, shutting it, and rushing upstairs, locking your door behind you, hoping you were out of view, safe, but little bunny, you were right insight of a scope.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Eddie Munson's royal wedding

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 21

Prompt: Formal

Rated: M

Tags: Modern AU; Rock star Eddie; Royal Steve; Established relationship; Sexually explicit language

Notes: Previous part | Part 1

“Okay,” Eddie says. The crowd outside the toned windows of the limousine has been getting thicker, which means they must be there soon. “Lemme get this straight again.” 

Steve, seated opposite him and looking both stupidly at ease and infuriatingly handsome in his tailored suit, chuckles.

“You’re talking about your tie, right? Because you’ve been tugging on it again.” 

Eddie groans and attempts to right the dreaded thing. It feels like trying to strangle himself. 

“Very funny, you asshole,” he grouses, but Steve doesn’t rise to the insult, just continues to observe his struggle with fond amusement. “I'm talking about this wedding. Why do we need to- … I mean, how are you related to these people again?” 

“Here, let me,” Steve mutters, leaning over and swatting Eddie’s hands away so that he can straighten the tie for him. “You know my cousin?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “The Duchess of What’s Her Face. Met her at a fundraiser once. Major bitch, please don’t tell me it's her getting married.” 

“No, that’s my father’s niece,” Steve laughs, markedly not correcting him on the major bitch part. “This is my mother’s side of the family.” 

“Ah, the banker and entrepreneur side,” Eddie says. He tries to fiddle with his rings, but they’ve made him leave most of them at home. “Much better.”

“Hey,” Steve says. “Try to look at it from the positive side. You won’t have to remember any titles. There'll probably also be less cameras.” 

Silence drops. The car slows down as they pass another security checkpoint. 

“Hey,” Steve says. His hands settle on Eddie’s shoulders, featherlight and familiar. “Hey, look at me.” 

Eddie does. 

“You don't have to do this,” Steve says. His eyes are serious, his brow furrowed. “I can get out of this car alone and tell the driver to bring you home, and nobody will need to see you like this.” 

“Wow,” Eddie scoffs. “You can tell you've been trained in diplomacy. That's the nicest way anyone has ever told me I looked like shit.” 

Steve drops a chaste kiss to his lips, just as the car stops. “I never said that. I know it's not your favorite type of event, though. Or your favorite type of people. I don't ever want to force you into-” 

“Hey,” Eddie interrupts him. “You're not forcing me. I chose this. I chose you. And for the record, I know I look fantastic in this thing.” 

Steve hums, a low sound that settles heavy in Eddie’s abdomen. The driver’s door shuts and steps approach. An excited chorus of voices swells outside. The goddamn press, eager to catch a photo of him making a complete ass of himself on his first royal engagement. 

“You know when you'll look even better?” 

Eddie flinches back to attention. “Huh?” 

The door swings open. A storm of flashing cameras breaks loose.

Steve smiles, bright and professional. His voice is so low Eddie needs to strain to catch it. 

“When we get back to the hotel and I take it off you.” 

*

“There he is!”

Eddie turns to see the bride swooshing towards him in a flurry of white skirts, her new husband trailing on her heel like an eager puppy. He casts a nervous glance over his left shoulder, then one over his right, but Steve is nowhere to be seen. 

“Eddie Munson,” the bride says, coming to a stop in front of him and taking a generous sip of her champagne. “The rock star who bagged the crown prince. Every eligible person in this room either wants to be you or kill you, you know that?” 

“Yeah well,” Eddie says, taking in the mean curl of her mouth and the sharp glint in her eyes. “Good thing you're not eligible anymore, I guess.”

Her face twitches and her hand grips the glass a little tighter. 

“Carol,” says her husband, smile sharp. “Don't tease him. He must have it hard enough. The backlash from his fans, the media claiming that this is just a rebellious phase Steve is going to grow out of soon. I imagine it can't be easy.” 

“Ah, you know how the press are,” Eddie says. “Better not to listen to them. Steve and I are in this for the long haul. We're planning on making it work.” 

The bride quirks a brow. “Well, good luck with making that white dress work at your wedding.” 

And Eddie wanted to behave, he really did, but what can he do when served a cue like this?

“Bold to assume I'll be the one wearing the dress.” 

Silence drops. The bride and groom gape at him. A scandalized murmur runs through the assembled bystanders, and fuck, when did they gain an audience?

“Um,” Eddie says. “Listen, that was-”

“There you are!” Steve exclaims, materializing out of nowhere and taking him gently by the shoulder. “Tommy, Carol, I'm so sorry, but we need to get going. Early start tomorrow, you know how it is. Beautiful wedding, congrats again.” 

And then Eddie’s being pulled out the doors and into the venue's lush garden, past a crowd of gawking wedding guests. 

“I can't believe you said that.” 

Eddie is already drawing a breath to apologize, but then it dawns on him that it's not rage that's making Steve’s voice shake. It's laughter. Steve's hand, against all rules of propriety and protocol, has slipped into his. 

“Told you I'd be a disaster at this,” he shrugs, and Steve snorts. 

“Ah, they deserved it. We can deal with the fallout tomorrow.” 

“Oh?” Eddie smirks as the limousine rolls to a stop before them and the driver jumps out to open the door for them. “Is this the part where you take me to the hotel and-”

“Oh no,” Steve says, and pulls him inside. His eyes are sparkling. “Change of plans. You're fucking me in the car.” 

And who's Eddie to disregard a royal order? 

More holiday drabbles

[konpeitonom]

Whenever you have a second can we PLEASE get some Girl dad curly HCS? I feel like he'd be like Bandit from bluey as a father :)

- 🎺 anon

captain grant curly as your dad.

sfw— lowercase intended ^_^

fem reader—

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; reader is quite young here, im assuming no older than 6th grade, but intended for maybe.. a 3rd-4th grader? lmk if you wanna see him as like a dad for a teen/young adult 🎺 anon!

— extra, extra kind to you when he has to leave you for long business trips. knows you absolutely hate it. i mean, he’s missing christmas! new years! maybe even your birthday! (i assume that once he’s a dad, he’ll avoid taking trips longer than a year- only if it’s possible)

— his heart breaks a little when you playfully punch at his chest, crying about how he’s leaving again. part of him wants to quit, but obviously he can’t..

— speaking of birthdays.. he would go through hell and back to make sure you get what you want (as long as it’s reasonably priced, of course) a sold out toy? he’s willing to buy it overpriced on some resale site. there’s no way his girl is going to be disappointed on her own birthday.

— goes all out. and does what you want. if you wanna invite your friends, have a sleepover? that’s fine by him. or if you’re a more introverted, quiet kid, just a small celebration with family is fine. maybe even a weekend trip. whatever it is you want, just say the word. makes up for past birthdays he’s missed!

— reunions are the best.. after a week of rest, he’ll be sure to spend all his time with you. he knows how much you missed him.

— helps you out with homework.. prepares snacks at the kitchen table. like your favorite fruits, some gummy bears. fidget toys to help you concentrate. he tries so hard to just not give you the answers, do your homework for you.. he doesn’t, but he’s tempted!

— takes you to/picks you up from school whenever possible. gets to know your teachers and stuff. very active in your education. his parents were great, but i assume weren’t too present within his school life (being in the wrong crowd, and stuff- jimmy being an example) so he makes sure you’re doing a-okay!

— he doesn’t wanna be the kind of dad that’s just work, work, work. it’s his job to take care of his girl too.. he’d feel a lot of guilt if his spouse was taking care of you more than 70% of the time anyway (if he was home). just because he provides financially, doesn’t excuse him from dad work.

— fights the urges to spoil you.. he’s not the richest, but he does have disposable income. and if it’s just gonna sit there in his bank account, why not spend some to make his girl happy? his spouse hates it, you're already spoiled enough as it is.

— very up to date with all your interests. he’d get sad though watching you move on to something more geared towards older kids, like.. you’re growing up so fast! and what a blessing it is to watch in real time..

— loves taking you on little dad-daughter dates. like a day out at the beach, or just at a park. one on one time is important! and he loves hearing all the gossip you have about your friends, school. he doesn’t wanna fit into the stereotype of dads knowing nothing that goes on in your everyday life.

— bakes with you once a week. usually a sunday. just a little treat for you, along with bonding time. if he’s busy, he’ll get you ice cream or a chocolate bar before he comes home. he tries to sneak in vegetables or some form of protein, but as you get older you call him out on that..

— avoids box mixes, likes to make things from scratch. sometimes shows you how to bake bread, and stuff. it’s a good life skill!

— keeps fit, we know this.. encourages you to run with him. he likes his alone time, but teaching you good habits come first and foremost! tries not to be too overbearing though.

— he used to place you on his chest and cuddle with you as watched tv together. as you got older he stopped as to not embarrass you, but he would shed a few tears if you ask to- or initiated it. seeing you grow up is just so sad for him! you’ll always be his little girl, even when you’re 50 and balding,

[maskedbyghost]

Hiii I just read your stalker!reader and simon fic it got me hooked. I just wanted to ask if you don’t mind, what if reader was just obsessing simon because reader thought he wouldn’t care and once simon cornered reader they would pull a “I don’t like you anymore” which drives simon crazy

Anyways feel free to ignore this!! It’s just a thought💗💗💗

this idea had me laughing so hard, i just had to write it. the thought of simon losing it over a 'just kidding, i'm over you' moment? priceless. here's my take, hope you enjoy! ❤️

part 1

it wasn’t supposed to end like this: you, pinned to the wall of a supply closet, simon standing way too close, his hands braced on either side of your head, glaring at you through his mask.

you hadn't planned on blurting that of all things. but there it was.

i don’t like you anymore.

the words were still fresh in the air, and if the sudden twitch of simon’s eyebrow meant anything, it had definitely hit a nerve.

“what did you just say?” his voice was quiet, but you could feel goosebumps all over your body.

you crossed your arms over your chest, ignoring the heat crawling up your neck. “you heard me. i’m over it. totally done. moving on.”

for a moment, the closet fell silent—save for the faint hum of the overhead light. then, simon tilted his head slightly, his body still leaning uncomfortably close.

“so… after all that—bumping into me after missions, conveniently forgetting your jacket in my gear, death-glaring half the team for talking to me—you’re suddenly done?”

“yup.” you nodded, refusing to let the panic slip through. “done like burnt toast.”

simon blinked.

“burnt toast,” he repeated, voice utterly deadpan.

“well, yeah.” you said. “toast burns, it’s done, right? i’m the toast in this scenario.”

something like sheer confusion flashed in his eyes. he stepped closer, closing the gap.

“you’re lying.”

“i’m not!”

“uh-huh.” his sarcasm was evident even behind the mask. he crossed his arms, looking almost annoyed now. “so you just ‘got bored’ of stalking me one day? that’s your story?”

“i wasn’t stalking you,” you huffed.

simon raised a single finger in rebuttal. “you memorized my coffee order and put it on my desk unprompted four times this week.”

“you drink black coffee!” you exclaimed. “that’s not stalking—it’s paying attention. for example: you’re six feet tall, brooding, and you skip breakfast unless someone makes you coffee!”

“sure, sherlock,” he muttered.

your face heated, but you doubled down. “well, it doesn’t matter because i. don’t. care. about. you.” you punctuated the words dramatically, pointing a finger on his chest.

simon simply tilted his head again, staring at you like you suddenly grew three heads. finally, he sighed.

“fine.” he shrugged casually, stepping back just enough to pull his gloves tighter. “you’re not into me anymore? that’s great. guess i can start chatting up jessica. she’s been awfully nice lately—”

“like hell you will! the woman who puts ketchup on scrambled eggs? sir, i thought you had standards.”

“so you’ve been keeping tabs on her now, too?”

“…no! i just noticed! once!”

his gaze was practically sparkling with smug victory. “thought you didn’t care anymore.”

“i—” you faltered, realizing you’d just obliterated your own argument. ��i don’t! i was just… hypothetically!”

simon snorted, the sound far too smug for your liking. “you’re terrible at this, love.”

you glared up at him, your dignity hanging by a thread. “you’re impossible.”

“maybe.” he took a step closer, his broad frame crowding you once more. “but i think we both know who the liar is here.”

you groaned, slapping your palms over your face, earning a low chuckle from him.

“burnt toast,” he repeated, still chuckling as he stepped aside, giving you just enough space to escape the supply closet and your embarrassment. “you’re something else, love.”

and from the teasing sound of his voice, it was very clear simon wasn’t letting this go anytime soon.

----------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @blackhawkfanatic @consciouscarrot

[kisshae]

ARE YOU BORED YET? ★ YU JIMIN

PREC𝒾s ｡｡ months have passed, but the memory of karina still lingers—her glance like a thorn you can't pull out. you kissed her, and now she's further away than ever, leaving you to watch from the sidelines.

parings ? ex-best friend!karina x lovesick!fem reader ft mark (nct), intak (p1h) , manon & daniela (katseye) ★ genre , wlw friends to lovers uni au fluff tiny bit of angst!!! wc 2.6k

warning(s) , kissing reader is still badly down BAD for karina.. miscommunication jealousy

read this !! I hate fruits , part 1 , sry if this is confusing I was like rushing to finish this up for my next work...

now playing ? nomad , clario

it's been months since you last saw karina—really saw her, not just passing glances in lecture halls or stolen moments across the quad. each month has left an ache in your chest, sharp and unyielding, like a wound that refuses to heal.

you'd think the ache would dull with time, that her absence might ease the weight pressing against your ribs. but it hasn't.

instead, it's only grown worse, carving out hollow spaces inside you that fill with resentment and longing in equal measure.

and then there's mark. the way you've caught them together—his easy laugh, her blond hair catching the sunlight as she leans into him like it's the most natural thing in the world.

that was supposed to be you.

you were supposed to be the one at her side, sharing inside jokes, brushing her hand with yours when no one was looking.

but you ruined it.

you kissed her.

and now, all you can do is watch from the sidelines, choking on the bitterness of your own making. the snow crunches beneath your boots as you make your way across campus, the cold seeping into your bones.

you shove your hands deeper into your coat pockets, wishing the chill in the air could match the frost biting at your heart. she's everywhere and nowhere all at once—haunting your thoughts, lingering in the periphery of your vision, but never close enough to reach.

and you can't decide what hurts more: the memory of that kiss, or the way she looks at you now, like you're a stranger.

the market is busy for a winter afternoon, the crisp air biting at your cheeks as you push through the crowd with daniela by your side. you're bundled in layers, the thick scarf around your neck almost enough to hide your face.

it's a bit of a cozy escape from the cold, all the hustle and bustle, but still, something feels off, like you're waiting for something to happen.

you and daniela split up to grab some things, and she disappears into the restroom, leaving you to wander the aisles alone. you don't think much of it until you round a corner into the fruit alley, only to stop dead in your tracks.

there she is.

karina.

but somethings different.

her blonde hair is gone—replaced by jet black strands that peek out from under her beanie. it's such a stark contrast to the karina you're used to for a second, you almost convince yourself it's someone else.

but it's her. you'd recognize the way she stands anywhere.

she's standing at the end of the aisle, inspecting a basket of oranges, her hands gloved and delicate as she picked them up one by one. for a second, you almost forget where you are, as if the world has faded away except for her.

but you snap back to reality quickly enough, your heart beating in your throat. you could just turn around, pretend you didn't see her.

you could keep walking. you could avoid this.

but your feet won't move.

karina hasn't noticed you yet. she's lost in the small world of fruit, her brow furrowed slightly as she selects the ripest orange. you could watch her for hours if you wanted, but something inside you twists at the sight. there's that familiar ache again, a tinge of jealousy in the pit of your stomach.

it's stupid, really. she doesn't even know you're here, doesn't even know much you've been struggling to get over her.

but you can't help it.

she's too perfect.

before you can think any more about it, she looks up and catches your gaze. her eyes widen slightly, her lips parting in soft surprise. then she stands up straighter, as if she's suddenly unsure of something, and she blinks—quickly, like she's trying to reset herself.

you both freeze.

the air between you feels thick, and for a moment, it's like nothing has changed.

no time. no distance, no awkward silence between you two since the kiss. it's just her and you, standing there in the midst of winter, in a fruit aisle that feels too small for all the words neither of you have said.

karina doesn't move, her hand still hovering near the oranges.

your throat tightens, and you finally manage to speak.

"hey." it sounds so casual, too flat for how you're feeling. your stomach churns as you wonder if she'll say anything at all.

"hi," karina replies, her voice almost too soft, too polite.

and just like that, you're stuck again—two people who never really knew how to talk to each other anymore.

the silence stretches, hanging between you like the cold outside. karina's eyes flicker down to the fruit in her hand, her fingers turning the orange over slowly—carefully, like it’s something delicate she might accidentally crush.

you're the same. Frozen, watching her, unable to move.

it's just an orange, but for some reason, it feels like she’s holding a part of you, inspecting it with the same quiet intensity that makes your chest tighten.

she used to do this with you. with everything. look at you like you were something worth savoring.

but now?

now she can’t even meet your eyes for more than a few seconds without looking away.

you swallow hard, fingers curling at your sides. the fruit around you—rows of apples, pomegranates, those stupid oranges—feels too sweet, too vibrant for how bitter the pit in your stomach has become.

funny. you used to love this aisle.

now, you hate it.

the memory of her lip gloss—cherry, sugary, intoxicating—lingers like a bruise. you wonder if she still wears it, if the taste of her would still remind you of something you shouldn’t want.

“didn't think I’d see you here,” she adds, fingers still turning the orange like it’s the only thing keeping her hands busy. her eyes flick up, meeting yours briefly. “you don’t usually come to this market.”

your throat feels dry. “I could say the same about you.”

karina's lips twitch, almost like she’s about to smile, but it never fully forms. “guess we’re both full of surprises.”

you shift on your feet, pretending to glance over the fruit as if this conversation isn’t the only thing grounding you right now. “yeah. I guess so.”

another stretch of silence. the kind that says everything neither of you are willing to. karina looks down at the orange again, voice softer this time. “how've you been?”

the question sinks in, slow and heavy. it feels like a trap—like she’s opening a door just enough to see if you’ll step through. “fine,” you lie. “busy, you know. classes and all that.”

she nods, but something in her expression shifts—like she doesn’t quite believe you. “right.” her eyes flicker over you, lingering just long enough to make your heart race. “you look good,” she murmurs, almost like an afterthought.

your breath catches, and for a second, you forget how to respond. “thanks,” you manage, voice tighter than you’d like. “you too.”

karina hums, her gaze softening—but before you can say anything else, daniela's voice cuts through the stillness.

“you ready to go?”

suddenly, daniela's at your side, brushing water off her coat sleeve. she glances between you and Karina with an arched brow, clearly sensing the tension but not addressing it.

karina's expression hardens just enough for you to notice.

that softness—the small, unspoken part of her that seemed like it might reach out to you again—disappears.

her eyes drop to daniela, lips pressing into a thin line as if she’s biting back words she won’t let slip.

it's subtle. barely noticeable if you weren’t so tuned into her. But you are.

and it’s enough.

karina looks back at you, and for the first time since the party, you see it—the same thing that flashed across her face when she saw you with manon.

jealousy.

she doesn’t say anything else, just holds your gaze for a lingering second too long before turning back to the fruit display, her grip on the orange tightening slightly.

you could say something.

you should. but you don’t.

daniela's arm loops through yours, tugging lightly, but you hesitate—just for a second. your eyes drift back to karina, still standing there with that orange cradled in her palm. she's not looking at the fruit anymore.

she's watching you.

for a fleeting moment, her lips part, like she's about to say something. but the words don't come. and maybe they never will.

you force a small smile, even though it doesn't quite reach your eyes. "see you later," you murmur, the words slipping out quieter than intended.

karina's gaze flickers, something unreadable crossing her face. it looks almost like regret—or maybe it's just the lighting playing tricks on you.

"yeah," she replies softly. but the way she's still watching you makes it feel like she wanted to say more. like maybe if daniela wasn't there, she would've.

but it's too late.

the carnival is alive with lights and laughter, even in the biting cold. you adjust your camera strap, exhaling a puff of frosty air as the ferris wheel looms ahead. intak and daniela are somewhere back near the food stalls, probably bickering over churros, and manon is likely laughing at both of them. you needed the space, the quiet, to lose yourself in the view from above.

but as you shuffle forward in the line, you catch sight of a familiar figure.

karina.

your heart stutters. she's standing a few spots ahead, bundled in a black coat, her hair now dark as midnight and curling slightly at the ends. there's no sign of Mark, or anyone else for that matter. she's alone.

your thoughts spiral—did they break up? you shouldn’t care. you don’t care. but the thought nags at you, unwanted and unshakable.

the line moves, and suddenly, it’s your turn. the attendant waves you forward, and as if fate had a cruel sense of humor, karina is ushered into the same car.

she hesitates for a moment before sliding in, leaving just enough room for you to follow. the bar clicks into place, trapping you both in an awkward silence as the ride jolts to life.

the city begins to unfold below, the twinkling lights reflecting in her eyes, but you can’t focus on the view. all you can think about is her. how perfect she looks, even now. how her presence makes it impossible to breathe, impossible to think.

“i'm sorry.”

the words come out of nowhere, breaking the silence like the snap of a branch. You blink, startled, meeting her gaze.

“what?”

she exhales, her breath visible in the chilly air. “i'm sorry for what happened at the party. for... pushing you away like that.” her hands fidget in her lap. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

your chest tightens. the memory of that night feels like a fresh wound, sharp and unhealed.

“scared of what?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

karina hesitates, her eyes darting away to the lights below. “of what people would think. of what it would mean... if they saw me kissing a girl.”

the admission hits you like a punch to the gut. “so you were embarrassed?” the words tumble out before you can stop them, harsher than you meant.

her head snaps up, eyes wide. “No, I—” she bites her lip, searching for the right words. “I wasn’t embarrassed of you. I was embarrassed of myself. I wasn’t ready for people to know.”

you stare at her, the cold seeping through your gloves, but it doesn’t compare to the ache spreading through your chest. “it felt like you were.”

the ferris wheel creaks, the car swaying gently as it reaches the top. karina looks at you, her expression a mix of regret and something else you can’t quite place. “i'm sorry,” she whispers again.

and for a moment, you let yourself wonder if she means it—if she truly understands what she did to you.

the ferris wheel finally comes to a halt at the bottom, and you feel a sudden rush to get off, like if you stay in that small, enclosed space with karina any longer, you might lose control. the ride jerks to a stop, and you’re practically out of the seat before it’s even fully halted, your legs unsteady as you rush toward the exit.

the cold air hits you like a slap in the face, and you don’t stop walking—can’t stop walking. your heart is thundering, pounding against your ribs, and you need distance.

you need space. But then, you feel it. a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back, spinning you around. karina stands there, her expression wide, filled with sorrow, her eyes soft like she’s about to break.

you swallow, your throat dry, trying to force out words. “karina…”

she doesn’t let go, pulling you closer as if she can’t bear the distance between you any longer. her other hand comes up to cup your face, her fingers trembling slightly, but it doesn’t stop her.

you blink up at her, breath catching. “please… let go,” you whisper, a warning. “if you don’t, I might do something stupid.”

something stupid. like kiss her again.

karina's gaze flickers, and for a moment, you think she’ll pull away, but instead, she steps closer, her chest brushing yours, closing the distance. she lowers her voice, her words soft but sure.

“nothing you do could ever be stupid,” she says, her breath warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

her eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your heart race, as if she’s trying to find the right words, the right moment. she takes a breath, steadying herself before she says, "I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that night… about how you kissed me, how you made me feel. and I hate it, because it doesn’t fit into my world, but I can’t help it. I can’t stop wanting you.”

your breath catches in your throat, your pulse thundering in your ears. the confession hangs in the air between you, raw and vulnerable, and for a moment, you think you might explode from the weight of it all.

“I—I didn’t want to hurt you,” karina continues, her voice cracking. “but I was terrified. terrified of what everyone would think, of what it meant. I thought I could just ignore it, just bury it, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

you feel your hands tremble as you reach up, cupping her face, drawing her gaze back to yours. “so you’re not embarrassed of me?” you whisper, almost afraid to hear the answer.

her eyes soften, and she shakes her head. “no, never. I was just scared of myself. scared of what I was feeling for you.”

before you can say anything else, her lips find yours again, urgent and unrestrained, as if she’s trying to prove something to both of you. she kisses you like it’s the only thing that matters, her hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

when she pulls back, her voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s there, raw and open. “i'm sorry it took me so long to get here... but I don’t want to waste any more time pretending.”

the world around you seems to fade, and for the first time in months, you feel a rush of clarity. the ache, the longing, the confusion—it’s all gone, replaced by something even more overwhelming, something real.

“I don’t want to pretend either,” you say, your voice steady for the first time tonight. but even as the words leave your mouth, a thought lingers at the back of your mind—a quiet question that refuses to be ignored.

is this really it? is this the start of something new, or is it just another chapter of chaos in the story you’ve both been trapped in?

you don’t know. but for now, you choose to stay here, in this moment, with karina—hoping that it might be enough.

[sgiandubh]

Heughan’s voice is as smooth as his whisky. His latest venture is his multi-award-winning whisky and gin, ‘The Sassenach’, the Gaelic word for ‘outsider’. He feels he is an outsider to the industry, but the idea behind the name seems to have emerged from his mother, who is an English artist and was called ‘Sassenach’ when she arrived in New Galloway, and in Outlander, Jamie Fraser calls his wife Sassenach as s term of endearment. “The name is very special to me,” he tells me.

Perhaps the video he recorded at Everest Base Camp was for his mother ?She's on IG too and we know Sam loves her so much and sometimes doesn't call her Mum but Chrissie. Cait is not a Sassenach because she's Irish. Sam calling her the Original Sassenach it's because of her character, Claire and he recently stated Caitriona is nothing like Claire (SheKnows interview). Either way it's not a big deal so don't blame me. It's just a thought and cute anyway .

Dear Sassenach Anon,

Let me count the ways. Quoting from memory first we had ' She [C] is the original Sassenach' (at one of the seasons' premieres in London, where he brought a bottle and waxed lyrical to the press over it). Then, we had 'Sassenach means foreigner in Scots Gaelic and it's a term of endearment of Jamie Fraser, the character I am playing in OL, for his wife' (numerous times for various media outlets). Then, 'I am the Sassenach, I always felt as an outsider, but also Jamie Fraser's term of endearment for his wife, Claire' (ditto). And then 'the name emerged from his mother who is an English artist and was called ‘Sassenach’ when she arrived in New Galloway, and in Outlander, Jamie Fraser calls his wife Sassenach as s term of endearment.'

The Arbuturian is a well regarded online magazine, founded in 2009 and based in London. It looks and reads to me as The New Yorker's slightly more plebeian, younger cousin of sorts - check their masthead mascot...

... and remember (ROFLMAO) The New Yorker's Eustace Tilley, its illustrious inspiration:

By the way, Eustace Tilley, one of my favorite dandies, was itself inspired by an engraving of the French count Alfred d'Orsay, by a certain... James Fraser, sometime around 1830. I kid you not and yes, totally Clan Fraser, born near Inverness:

Can't make this shite up, even if you wanted, huh?

Anyways, back to your question and this little media outlet that could. Its targeted audience is, according to Wikipedia:

In sociological lingo, AB means an educated mid-to high level management audience, with a hefty disposable income to boot (usually more than 1 million £/year net revenue). All it takes is a short stroll through their Lifestyle pages: according to them, among this year's most sought after Xmas gifts gimmicks are a Turnbull & Asser silk pocket square (£75) for him or a £200 voucher for Fairmont Windsor Park’s Ultimate Diamond Facial, for her.

This interview's one and only raison d'être was to sound appealing to this particular dinkie (double income, no kids) Generation X audience, especially as far as his booze was concerned. For he was on booze promo mode here and he obviously twisted a bit whatever (I repeat: whatever) his real motivation behind the brand name might have been to the least controversial possible version. It's hard to question or throw shite at this mum version, let alone at a version involving a heroic single parent as Chrissie H, let alone at Christmas time. This allowed him, at the same time, to elegantly keep his personal life away and separate between business and private: something he should have been doing since the very start. But S is a sentimental man and a people pleaser - we all know that, don't we?

It was important for S to be featured in this London online magazine, read by the same people he was once serving drinks to, at parties. It's all about aspirations, social climbing and being a part of that crowd. Finally!

And you, darling, are a troll, despite your protesting. I nevertheless hope this answered your very transparently targeted question, in the spirit of Christmas. Otherwise, it would have landed in the bin, where it probably belongs.

PS: Caitriona is Caitriona, probably nothing like Claire, indeed and thank God! Being 'like Claire Fraser' was certainly not what prompted the coup de foudre - I daresay, quite the contrary. Sorry, darling, to pop your bubble, but this is not exactly how the real world works.

Later edit: if the entire Everest trek was something 'just for himself', then the recorded video was also 'just for himself'. The reason he posted it on Instagram was to probably childishly rejoice/brag he finally made it and damn the consequences. Use a bit of logic.

[h4nj1sunggg]

₁ . 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 - ( h. jisung. )

pairing: rockstar!Han Jisung x groupie fem!reader.

genre: smut, angst, rockstar x groupie to lovers

words: 5.7k summary: jisung is an idol, you are his groupie.

ᯓᡣ𐭩　  ( masterlist )  . playlist. part two.

warnings: a lot of make out, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex (don't be silly), dirty talks, breeding.

You're just a fan.

You’d always been passionate about music—its ability to tell stories, to evoke emotions you didn’t even realize you had. But when you first heard Han Jisung’s voice, it was like a switch flipped in your soul. His lyrics felt like they were written just for you, his melodies like they were designed to sit in your chest and echo for days.

It started with the music. Long before you ever thought about standing in a crowd or knowing his name, it was his voice that hooked you, a melodic thread weaving its way into the chaos of your life. His lyrics, so raw and unfiltered, felt like a window into his soul—and, in some strange way, yours too. Every word seemed crafted for the moments you couldn’t articulate yourself.

It wasn’t just the music, though. It was the way he performed—raw and unfiltered, like he was giving a piece of himself to the world every time he stepped on stage. You couldn’t help but be captivated.

The first song you heard wasn’t even one of the title tracks. It was an obscure B-side, tucked away on an album you stumbled upon by accident. But it hit you like a tidal wave. The layers, the emotions, the honesty—it was unlike anything you’d heard before. You remember sitting in your room with headphones on, the world around you fading as you let his music fill every corner of your mind. It wasn’t just a song; it was a lifeline. “I swear, he writes from a place most people are too afraid to touch,” you once explained to a friend, clutching your headphones like a lifeline. “It’s like he’s pouring out all the messy, beautiful parts of being human.”

Your admiration for him wasn’t the casual kind. It was the kind that had you at every concert within a hundred-mile radius, screaming his lyrics at the top of your lungs. The kind that had you pouring over interviews and album liner notes, learning about his creative process and the stories behind his songs.

Then came the rest. The way his voice could switch from a soft, whispery croon to a fiery, rapid-fire rap. The way he seemed to pour every ounce of himself into his work, leaving nothing behind. His music was like a diary you had no right to read, yet it felt like he’d written it for someone like you—someone who needed it. It wasn’t just his voice or the lyrics. It was the way his compositions felt alive. The subtle harmonies, the little ad-libs that only revealed themselves on the tenth or twentieth listen, the way every beat seemed to have its own heartbeat. His songs weren’t just music; they were experiences, stories you wanted to live in forever.

There was something deeply human about his art. 

He wasn’t afraid to explore the messy, complicated parts of life—the heartbreak, the anxiety, the longing for something more. He turned those emotions into something beautiful, something you could hold onto when your own thoughts felt too heavy to carry.

His music became your companion. On good days, it was the soundtrack to your joy. On bad days, it was the only thing that could pull you out of the darkness. It felt like he was reaching through the speakers, reminding you that it was okay to feel, to break, to rebuild.

It wasn’t just fandom—it was gratitude. For the songs that kept you company when you felt alone. For the words that gave you clarity when everything else was a blur. For the reminder that there was beauty in vulnerability, and strength in sharing it.

And so, you became a groupie—it was about chasing the feeling his music gave you. That indescribable, unshakeable sense of belonging.

Everyoe knows he has groupies, all over the cities, all over the countries. How could you even be mad at that? He is breathtaking, shockingly beautiful and sexy, a 25 years old guy that doesn’t stop to get settle with anyone. 

The night was alive with anticipation, the air buzzing as you made your way through the crowd outside the concert venue. The throbbing bass and distant cheers filtered through the walls, and with each step you took closer, your heart raced a little faster. You wore your favorite band t-shirt, the one that felt like armor, emblazoned with the words of the very song that had saved you—Han Jisung’s words.  When you finally entered, the sea of fans erupted around you, everyone a whirlwind of excitement and energy. You found a spot near the front, right where you could see him emerge any moment now. 

The lights dimmed, and the crowd roared in unison. The atmosphere was electric, a palpable wave of passion that made your skin tingle.  As the first chords of music filled the room, time seemed to slow down. Then, like a bolt of lightning, he appeared on stage—Han Jisung in all his glory. Your breath hitched in your throat as his silhouette became clearer against the vibrant lights. 

He was just as you had imagined: effortlessly charismatic, with a spark in his eyes that drew you in like a moth to a flame.  The first song struck like a melody of memories, filling your chest with a warmth you couldn’t quite articulate. Every lyric spilled from his lips like a confession, and you sang along, the words wrapping around you like a familiar blanket. 

It felt as though he was speaking directly to you, his gaze connecting with every listener in the crowd, weaving an intricate tapestry of shared experience. You couldn’t help but get lost in the moment, your worries forgotten as you surrendered to the music.  But the magic of the night didn’t stop there. Just as the chorus of his third song echoed through the hall, Han paused. “This next one,” he said, his voice soft yet commanding, “is for anyone who’s ever felt like they didn’t belong.” 

The room went silent, as if the world outside had paused to listen. It was like he was reaching through the ether, touching the hearts of his fans, reminding them they weren’t alone. 

That’s when it happened—something unexpected. As he sang, you felt his eyes drift over the crowd and land on you. 

For a fleeting moment, the chaos faded away, and it was just you and him in that moment. 

Your heart raced wildly, and you could swear your pulse synced to the rhythm of the song. It was surreal, a brief connection that seemed to transcend the space between performers and fans.  Just as quickly as it began, he moved on, and the moment ignited a fire deep within you. 

This wasn’t just admiration; it was a life-altering sense of purpose. After the concert, as the lights dimmed and the last notes faded, you stood there in disbelief. 

The world reformed around you, but in your heart, something had changed. Walking out of the venue, your mind raced with excitement. That fleeting connection felt too powerful to ignore. In that moment of passion, you realized that you were so much more than just a fan; you were a beacon of the change his music inspired in you. You had stories to tell, lyrics to write, and a world to explore, echoing the very sentiments that had pulled you in. Months later, you decided to attend another concert, this time less as a devoted fan and more as an artist in your own right. You took your notebook with you, filled with your own lyrics and drawings inspired by Han’s impact on your life. But this time, as you stood in the crowd again, you realized your heart wasn’t just searching for connection; it was ready to forge new paths and create beauty alongside those who inspired you.

Jisung was mid-performance, sweat glistening under the stage lights as he owned every second of the crowd’s adoration. You were front and center, screaming his name like your life depended on it. He caught your gaze for a fraction of a second—just enough to send your heart into overdrive.

The thrum of the bass reverberated through your chest as the crowd surged around you, but you couldn’t focus on anything but him. Jisung was electrifying on stage—his movements precise, effortless, and filled with a raw energy that made your heart race. The sweat on his skin caught the light with every jump and turn, and the way he commanded the stage had you completely entranced.

You screamed his name, hands stretched up toward the stage, desperate for any acknowledgment. "Jisung!" you shouted, the sound of your voice swallowed by the chaotic roar of the fans. But then, for a brief, fleeting moment, his eyes locked with yours. The world seemed to stop, the noise from the crowd fading into a muffled hum. His lips curved into a smirk—playful, confident, and undeniably aware of the effect he had on you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and it felt like the entire arena had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in that charged moment. 

Jisung's gaze flickered over you, slowly, taking in every detail of you from head to toe before it lingered just a little too long. That was enough to send a jolt of heat rushing through your body, your pulse spiking in a way you couldn't ignore.

The beat of the song changed, and he moved effortlessly into his next set of choreographed steps, but his eyes never fully left you. A few seconds later, he leaned into the mic, his voice cutting through the loud cheers and claps. "I see you out there," he called out, his voice smooth and seductive. "Maybe after the show, you can come backstage and show me what else you've got."

The crowd went wild, but it was the way he said it—low, with that playful, teasing edge—that made your breath catch in your throat. Was he serious? Was this really happening?

Before you could even gather your thoughts, you found yourself nodding, heart pounding in anticipation. The idea of getting close to him—of being in his presence, no longer just a face in the crowd—was enough to send a rush of excitement and nervousness flooding through your veins.

As the performance came to a close and the crowd erupted into applause, you couldn't tear your gaze away from Jisung. He smiled and waved to the audience, but his eyes found you again, locking on you as though you were the only one in the room. 

A beat passed before he tossed the mic to one of the staff members and gestured to the side. "Backstage, yeah?" he mouthed with a wink.

Your breath hitched as you nodded once again, your pulse racing. The excitement was almost too much to contain as you pushed through the crowd, making your way toward the side of the venue, where the backstage doors loomed.

The security guards nodded at you, clearly recognizing you from the earlier moments. The adrenaline from the performance still buzzed in the air, and soon enough, you found yourself standing just behind the curtain, waiting for the moment that felt like a dream.

The door opened, and there he was—Jisung, sweat still glistening on his skin, his eyes burning with that same playful intensity from earlier. His grin was a little wider now, a little more knowing. He leaned against the doorframe, his posture relaxed but confident. 

“You came,” he said, his voice hushed but loaded with expectation.

“I said I would,” you responded, stepping toward him, your legs trembling but your resolve firm. 

Jisung pushed off from the door, closing the space between you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Good. You’re just as bold as I thought,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. The room felt impossibly small as you both stood there, the space between you charged with unspoken promises.

He reached up, his hand brushing the side of your face, his fingers cool against your skin after the heat of the stage. “I like that.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, closing the final gap between you with a kiss that was everything you had imagined and more. Electric, heated, and completely intoxicating. You melted into it, the reality of the moment settling around you like a dream that was slowly becoming your new truth. 

"what's your name beautiful?"

"y/n", his grin deepened. “good, you’re with me tonight.”

Shivers running down your back as you’re still over the edge from the kiss that he just stealed from you, so easily, like the most normal thing in the world.

The implications behind those words swirled around in your mind as anticipation danced in your veins. Every part of you wanted to say yes—to embrace whatever adventure awaited beyond this stolen moment. 

But something deeper stirred within—a fear mingled with longing that threatened to choke back your excitement. 

“Where are we going?” you asked softly, searching his eyes for answers. His smile widened further as he took your hand gently in his own—his touch grounding yet electrifying at once. 

“my room,” he replied with an infectious enthusiasm that made you feel alive. “Tonight is ours.” 

He led you out of the cramped backstage area into the vibrant chaos of post-concert euphoria—the energy buzzing around as fans celebrated what they’d just witnessed was intoxicating in its own right. 

As laughter echoed around you both and Jisung’s fingers intertwined with yours securely, it became clear: this night would be one for the books—he’s holding you like he wants you with all his desire. 

 Each step felt like a leap into the unknown, every heartbeat resonating with the thrill of what lay ahead.

Jisung's fingers intertwined with yours securely, and the way he held you was possessive and tender all at once, as if he wanted to shield you from the world outside. “Can you believe we made it through that?” he laughed, his eyes sparkling with the afterglow of adrenaline and joy.

You nodded, unable to form words, too caught up in the moment. The night had been electric, a whirlwind of lights and sound, and now it was culminating in this moment, just the two of you. As you passed by excited fans, you felt a surge of confidence, the connection between you and Jisung felt undeniable.

Finally, they reached the door to his room, a private sanctuary away from the chaos. Jisung opened it with a flourish, and the moment you stepped inside, the noise faded into a soft hum. The room was dimly lit, adorned with posters of his favorite bands and a few mementos from past concerts. It felt like a glimpse into the soul of the man you had come to admire.

“Welcome to my world,” he said, closing the door behind you, the sound echoing in the quiet space. As he turned to face you, the playful glint in his eyes shifted to something deeper, more sincere. “I’m glad you’re here.”

With that, he stepped closer, the distance between you evaporating.

Your heart raced as he leaned in, his breath mingling with yours, both of you caught in a moment that felt suspended in time. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the space between you—a tension so palpable it almost crackled.

“Are you ready?” he whispered, his voice low and inviting.

You nodded, your pulse quickening as he closed the final distance and captured your lips with his. The kiss was sweet, full of promise and passion, igniting every nerve in your body. It was everything you had dreamed of and more, a collision of desire and emotion that swept you off your feet.

His mouth moved against yours with a fervor that took your breath away, each caress sending waves of heat coursing through you. It was sweet, but it was also wild and consuming, a fierce declaration of everything you had kept bottled up. You melted against him, surrendering to the tide of emotions that crashed over you, drowning out all thought except for the intoxicating taste of him.

His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him, as if he couldn’t get close enough. You felt the strength of his body, the way he held you as though you were his lifeline. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the promise of something more—an uncharted territory filled with passion and urgency.

You lost yourself in the moment, tangled in the heat and desire that enveloped you both. Every touch was electric, every sigh a plea for more. It was a collision of souls, a symphony of need and longing that resonated deep within your core.

As Jisung's fingers brushed against your skin, a spark ignited, sending shivers cascading down your spine. His touch was both gentle and insistent, a perfect blend of tenderness and urgency that made your heart race even faster. You could feel the weight of his passion, each caress igniting flames of desire that threatened to consume you whole.

He leaned in closer, his lips trailing along your jaw, whispering sweet nothings that made your breath hitch. 

"I want you," he murmured, the raw need in his voice sending a thrill coursing through you. Those simple words were enough to send your mind spinning, a confirmation of everything you had ever dreamed about.

You craved more—more of his warmth, more of his touch, more of the connection that sparked between you like wildfire. Jisung's hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, igniting a fever that left you breathless. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to give him better access to your lips, and you melted into him, surrendering to the overwhelming need that pulsed between you.

“Please,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, as you pressed your body against his, desperate for the contact. The world around you faded into a blur, and all that existed was the heat of his body against yours, the intoxicating scent of him, and the electric charge in the air.

With every kiss, every touch, he pushed you closer to the edge, each moment stretching out as if time itself had surrendered to the intensity of your connection. You could feel the weight of his desire, palpable and raw, and it fueled your own, making you ache for him in ways you never thought possible.

“Let me show you how much I can be good for you,” Jisung breathed against your lips, his voice thick with longing.

Before you could reply, he pushed you back gently onto the bed. The cool sheets contrasted with the heat radiating from your body. Jisung climbed on top of you, his weight pinning you down comfortably as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a feverish kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, and you melted into him, returning the kiss with equal fervor.

He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, a predatory glint shining in his gaze. “hm, I got a pretty girl in my hands tonight didn’t I?” his chocky smile makes your heaad spin.

His lips traveled down your jawline, leaving a trail of fire as they descended toward your neck. He nipped at the sensitive skin, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. “You make the prettiest sounds,” he teased, licking a stripe from your collarbone up to your ear.

Your back arched in response, urging him to continue. His hand found the hem of your shirt, fingers teasingly brushing against your skin before he lifted the fabric, exposing your midriff. The cool air hit you, heightening your senses as he peppered kisses along your stomach, savoring every inch of you.

“Jisung…” you breathed, your voice thick with desire.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he pulled the shirt over your head, tossing it aside. He paused, taking a moment to admire you, his gaze heated and full of hunger. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered before leaning down to press soft kisses between your breasts – in that moment, you can see affection in his sensual actions, almost seems like he takes his good time with you.

Each kiss sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you could feel your body responding to his every touch. His hands roamed, fingers brushing against your sides, teasing the edge of your bra before he slowly unclasped it. The garment fell away, and he wasted no time, his mouth moving to your sensitive nipples, swirling and sucking until you were a moaning mess beneath him.

“Jisung, please…” you begged, your body craving more of him, more of this electrifying connection.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. “I want you to feel everything,” he said, moving back up to capture your lips again. His hands worked on the button of your jeans, and with a swift tug, they were gone, leaving you in nothing but your panties, exposed and longing.

“Shh, just let me take care of you,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry, sending shivers down your spine. His fingers slid from your waist, trailing down your thighs, teasingly slow as they reached the waistband of your panties. He paused, looking into your eyes for permission, and you nodded, unable to form words.

With a smirk, he pulled your panties aside, exposing you to his gaze. “hot,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers danced over your folds, exploring, teasing, coaxing soft moans from your lips.

“Tell me what you want,” he commanded, his voice dripping with authority as he continued his ministrations, his fingers expertly circling your clit.

“I… I want you,” you gasped, the heat pooling in your core almost overwhelming.

“Good girl,” he said, his smile devilish as he lowered himself to the floor. You gasped as he pressed kisses along your thighs, his mouth tantalizingly close to where you needed him most. “Let me taste you.”

His words sent a wave of anticipation crashing over you, and all you could do was nod, gripping onto the edge of his bed as he finally dove in. His tongue flicked against you, drawing out a whimper as he explored your depths “Stay still,” he chuckled darkly, holding your hips down as he increased the intensity. “I want to hear you.”

With a wicked grin, he yanked your soaked panties completely off, tossing them aside. "Fuck, you're dripping," he growled, his hot breath fanning over your glistening pussy. His fingers delved between your folds, spreading your labia to fully expose your aching cunt. "Look at this pretty little clit, all swollen and begging for attention."  

Jisung’s tongue dance against your clit, flicking and sucking with temptation, he worked you closer to the edge, he looked up, his eyes glinting with mischief and desire. “You taste so sweet. Don't hold back. I want to know how good I make you feel.”

Jisung's expert digits danced over your sensitive flesh, circling your throbbing nub before plunging two fingers deep inside your weeping hole. You cried out as he curled them, finding that perfect spot that made your toes curl. He pumped his fingers in and out of your clenching pussy.

With each flick of his tongue, the heat inside you spiraled, and you felt yourself teetering on the precipice of release. “Jisung… I’m so close,” you gasped, breathless.

“Just a little more, babe. Give yourself to me,” he urged, his mouth never stopping its delicious assault.

"I... I want your cock!" you moaned shamelessly, overcome by the burning need in your core.

"That's my good little slut," he purred, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to his lips. He sucked your juices off each digit, savoring your taste. "But first, I'm going to devour this sweet cunt until you're screaming my name."

And then it happened—the wave crashed over you, pulling you under with a force that left you gasping for breath. You could barely comprehend the bliss as Jisung held you through your climax, his tongue continuing to coax every last ounce of pleasure from you.

Finally, as the tide receded, you collapsed back onto the bed, panting. Jisung joined you, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. “See? I told you I wanted you to feel everything.”

You turned to him, your heart still racing as you caught your breath. “You definitely delivered,” you replied, a smirk forming on your lips.

But he wasn’t done.

Not even a little bit.

Jisung's eyes darkened with renewed desire as he watched you catch your breath. Without warning, he grabbed your wrist and guided your hand to the prominent bulge straining against his jeans.

"Your turn," he growled, voice husky with need. "Show me what those pretty fingers can do."

You could feel the heat radiating through the denim as your palm pressed against his hardness. Slowly, teasingly, you began to trace the outline of his cock, relishing the way his breath hitched at your touch.

Your fingers deftly unbuttoned Jisung's jeans, slowly lowering the zipper. You could feel the heat of his arousal as you slipped your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his thick shaft. Jisung let out a low groan, his hips bucking slightly at your touch. "Fuck, your hand feels so good," he breathed, eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

You began to stroke him, marveling at how hard he felt in your grasp. Your thumb swirled over the sensitive head, spreading the bead of precum that had formed there. Jisung's breathing grew ragged as you continued your ministrations, alternating between long, slow strokes and quicker, teasing ones. "You like that, Ji?" you purred, enjoying the way he squirmed under your touch. 

Jisung's response was a strangled moan as you tightened your grip slightly, twisting your wrist on the upstroke. His hands fisted in the sheets, chest heaving as he fought to maintain control. "It feels fucking amazing," he gasped. "But I need more. I need to feel those pretty lips wrapped around me."

With a wicked grin, you freed Jisung's throbbing cock from your grasp and planted yourself between his legs. You leaned in, running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, savoring the salty tang of his skin and precum before taking the head into your mouth.

Jisung's hands flew to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he groaned at the sensation of your warm mouth enveloping him. "Fuck yes, just like that," he encouraged, hips canting up involuntarily as you began to bob your head.

You took more of him inside, relaxing your throat to accommodate his girth. The musky flavor of his arousal filled your senses as you sucked harder, your hand fondled his taut abs. Jisung was lost in bliss, eyes rolling back as he ground himself against your face.

You could feel Jisung's cock throbbing against your tongue, his breathing growing more erratic as you worked him over. Your own arousal was building once again, the wetness between your thighs a testament to the pleasure he'd wrung from you earlier.

Deciding it was time to mix things up, you released his shaft with a pop and kissed my way back up Jisung's body. You nipped at his chin before capturing his lips in a searing kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth as you ground your soaked pussy against the bulge of his thigh.

Jisung broke the kiss, panting heavily as he gazed down at you with lust-clouded eyes. "God, I need to be inside you," he growled, voice raw with desire."I'm going to fuck you so hard."

With that promise hanging in the air, he flipped us over and positioned himself between your spread legs.

A giggle released of your lungs at the sudden movement, he chuckle darkly too, “having fun pretty?” He hums nibbling your jawline.

You nods making him smile. 

Jisung's thick cock rubbed against your slick folds, the head nudging at your entrance as he looked down at you with a hungry gaze. "You ready for this, baby?" he purred, his voice low and rough with need.

You nodded again eagerly, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer. With a swift thrust of his hips, Jisung buried himself to the hilt inside you. A strangled moan tore from your throat as he stretched you open, filling every inch of your clenching cunt. "Fuck," Jisung groaned, eyes fluttering shut as he savored the feel of your pussy gripping him like a vice. 

"So tight... Perfect." He began to move then, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside before slamming back in with enough force to bounce you up the bed.

The bed creaked beneath you as Jisung pistoned in and out of your sopping wet pussy, each powerful thrust driving him deeper. You could feel the head of his cock rubbing against that sensitive spot inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body with every pass.

"u-ugh..!" you cried out, nails digging into Jisung's back as he pounded into you like a man possessed. He obliged, increasing the pace until the room filled with the lewd slap of skin on skin and your wanton moans.

Jisung leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and nipping at it mercilessly as he continued to rut between your thighs. The added stimulation sent you hurtling towards another climax. "Oh god, I'm going to...!" Your words dissolved into a keening wail as orgasm crashed over you once more.

But Jisung wasn't done yet.

He rode out your climax, his cock still hammering into you as he chased his own release. 

Your pussy spasmed around him, milking his shaft for all it was worth.Jisung groaned against your breast, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine.

"Gonna fill this sweet cunt up," he gritted out through clenched teeth. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and held there, pulsing as he pumped ropes of hot semen deep inside you.

You could feel every pulse of his cock as it painted your insides with his seed, the sensation prolonging your own aftershocks. Jisung collapsed on top of you, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He peppered kisses across your face before claiming your lips in a deep, satisfying kiss.

"hm," he murmured against your mouth when they finally parted. "liked it?”

You nods a little as you tried to keep your breath steady, “that was, unexpected,” you mumble as he moved from top of you, laying on the bed beside you. “but I still liked it.”

Jisung’s lips curled into a satisfied grin as he propped himself up on one elbow, his dark hair tousled and falling into his eyes. He reached out, tracing a gentle finger along the curve of your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I liked it too,” he teased, his voice low and warm, the playful glint in his eyes impossible to ignore. “Gotta keep things interesting, don’t I? otherwise my number one fan might goes somewhere else.”

You laughed softly, rolling onto your side to face him. “You definitely succeeded in that department,” you admitted, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “But now I’m wondering what other surprises you’re hiding.”

Jisung’s grin widened as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of tricks up my sleeve,” he whispered mischievously. “But you’ll have to wait to find out.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and he chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. Before you could respond, he tugged the blanket over both of you, wrapping an arm securely around your waist.

“Rest for now,” he said softly, his tone suddenly tender. “You’re gonna need your energy for whatever I’ve got planned next.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth of his embrace and the weight of his words leaving you with a mix of excitement and anticipation. As your breathing began to steady, you felt yourself melting into him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful calm.

The next morning, the sunlight streaming through the curtains woke you. You stirred, stretching your arms across the bed, expecting to feel the warmth of Jisung beside you. Instead, your hand met the cool, empty sheets.

Blinking, you sat up, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the fabric surrounding you. It was comforting and cruel all at once—a reminder that he had been there, but he was gone now.

Your gaze wandered around the room, your chest tightening when you spotted the note on the nightstand. The messy scrawl of his handwriting stood out on the folded piece of paper. You hesitated before picking it up, afraid of what it might say but needing to see it anyway.

Sorry I couldn’t stay. Early flight. Thanks for last night. You’re amazing. – J

That was it. Short, sweet, and heartbreakingly impersonal.

Your fingers trembled as you set the note down, staring at the space where he’d been just hours ago. The events of last night replayed in your mind—the way he’d held you, the way he’d kissed you like you were his whole world. And yet, now, it felt like you were nothing more than a fleeting moment, another name on the long list of people who drifted in and out of his life.

You pulled the sheets closer around you, as if they could somehow hold the pieces of your heart together. But they didn’t. They only smelled of him, a scent that would fade just as quickly as his presence had.

You had always known the truth—he belonged to the world, not to you. You were just someone he turned to for comfort in between the chaos, a temporary escape from the demanding life he led.

And yet, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself out of bed, your feet heavy as they hit the floor. You needed to leave before the scent of him faded completely, before the memories turned from bittersweet to unbearable.

Because in the end, that’s all you’d ever be—a groupie in the background of his world, left behind as he chased the next city, the next stage, the next dream.

taglist: @inlovewithstraykids

[cherrynflowergarden]

Hello fellow desi motorsports fan🫰🏼

I want to send an ask for carlos Sainz on love fair (angst)

Carlos with a desi supermodel reader wife. They are going through a rough patch but something drastic happens and they almost part but he has a clearance and tries to win her back (does so after a lot of begging)

જ⁀➴ fractured frames || carlos sainz

an; hii fellow motorsport fan thank you so much for participating my love!!! i hope i did justice to the request :3

────🍧────

────🍧────

carlos stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse, gazing at the skyline. the city lights blurred into a puzzle of chaos, much like his thoughts. his phone lay face-down on the marble counter, unanswered messages piling up. on the screen, her name glowed persistently. the love of his life. his wife. the woman he was on the verge of losing.

their once-vivid love story now felt like a fading photograph. he couldn’t pinpoint the moment it started to unravel—was it her endless photoshoots and runway shows or his late nights at the studio? their careers, once their greatest pride, had turned into an invisible barrier neither could breach. words turned to silence, and silence became a chasm.

the final blow had come weeks ago at a gala they attended together. carlos had hoped it would be a rare moment to reconnect. he watched from the sidelines as she floated through the crowd, dazzling in a gold saree that shimmered with every movement. cameras adored her, fans swarmed her, and carlos—despite being by her side—felt like a ghost in her world.

the argument that night was explosive. and destructive.

“you don’t care about us anymore!” carlos had snapped, voice sharp with frustration.

“and you think i don’t see how distant you’ve been, carlos? you bury yourself in work to avoid facing us!” she shot back.

harsh words were said and it ended with her walking out, tears streaming down her face. the door slammed shut, echoing the silence he dreaded.

she moved back to her parents’ house shortly after, leaving carlos alone in their shared home. their marriage, once brimming with laughter, had reduced to strained texts and awkward silences during mandatory public appearances. the thought of divorce loomed unspoken but heavy between them.

on one rainy and gloomy evening, carlos received a call that sent his world into a tailspin.

“mr. sainz, there’s been an accident.”

the words hit him like a punch. she had been on her way to a fashion shoot when her car skidded on the wet roads, colliding with a truck. carlos barely heard the rest of the details as he raced to the hospital.

seeing her there—bruised, unconscious, hooked to machine tore him apart. he dropped into the chair beside her bed, gripping her hand, tears streaming down his face.

“i’m so sorry, mi vida. i never should’ve let us get here. please… wake up. i need you.” his voice cracked, the weight of his guilt suffocating him.

she woke up a few hours later, groggy but alive. her first word was his name.

he leaned closer, his heart leaping at the sound. “i’m here, mi vida. i’m not leaving.”

the accident became a turning point. while her injuries weren’t life-threatening, they required weeks of rest and recovery. he stayed by her side, tending to her needs, refusing to leave even when she insisted.

in those quiet moments—no cameras, no public personas—they found fragments of what they had lost. he read to her from her favorite novels, brought her masala chai just the way she liked it.

carlos refused to let her slip away without a fight. he knew grand gestures wouldn’t fix the cracks in their marriage, so he focused on the little things—the ways he had once shown his love for her before life got in the way. he started with handwritten notes, each one a reminder of their happiest moments. he tucked them into her bags, sent them with her morning chai, and even left one at her favorite café, where they’d spent countless evenings laughing together.

carlos made sure to support her in the ways she needed most. he showed up to her fashion shoots unannounced, quietly cheering her on from the sidelines, and sent her playlists of songs that spoke of longing, love, and hope. on her toughest days, he didn’t push her but made his presence known, offering her the comfort of silence if that’s all she needed. he wanted her to feel what he had failed to show in recent months—that she was always his priority.

“i was an idiot, jaan. i let my ego and work come before us. i see that now.”

“it wasn’t just you,” she admitted softly. “i didn’t make space for you in my world either. i was so caught up in being ‘the supermodel’ that i forgot to be your wife.”

“i’m not giving up on us,” he whispered one night as she sat on her parents’ terrace, gazing at the stars. “even if it takes years, i’ll wait for you, mi vida. you’re worth every second.” his voice broke, but his determination didn’t falter, and for the first time, she let herself believe that he meant it.

it wasn’t a grand gesture that brought them back together but a quiet moment.

“i miss you,” she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. he pulled her into his arms, holding her as if she might disappear. “i’ll never let you feel alone again,” he vowed.

rebuilding wasn’t easy, but they took it one day at a time. they carved out space for each other amidst their chaotic lives, learning to communicate and prioritize their relationship.

their story wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs—messy, beautiful, and worth fighting for.

────🍧────

[the-guppy-fish]

HC - Simon "Ghost" Riley

Types of relationships - Friends

...I have some thoughts...about our boy Simon...there are not many...but more will come...

(definitely have to make a part two🤭)

No warnings, yet. (Slightly proofread)

Simons eyes are always on you. No matter where in the room you are, his eyes always find their way to you. Both consciously and unconsciously. He just likes knowing where you are.

He has made it a habit to rest his hand on your shoulder whenever he stands behind you. (He just likes touching you..and not in a weird way)

Purposefully steals you hairties and hides them in his pockets. Whenever you leave something (jackets, shoes, ...your phone) within his reach, he loves to just hide it from you. Nothing vile. He just loves to see the confusion on your face when you mutter:"Where the f..Simon! Give back my xx"

Somehow, he knows when you get hungry. If you're ever out together, whether that be on an OP or just out with friends, it doesn't matter. Right before your mood turns snappy and you can't concentrate, he hands you some sort of snack.

He has the lamest, most dry fucking jokes ever. But you find them hilarious. Each and every single one of them. Because he has become a master at delivering those jokes.

- while walking in a desert somewhere on an op.

- Simon picks something up off the ground.

"Here, take this."

- he hands you something small. Dropping it into your gloved hand.

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

- while walking away he answers lowly.

"It's for rock music."

- you look down at a thumbnail-sized, triangular and flat rock.

🙄

"Eat." Was all he would tell you.

Tries to shepherd you if you're in crowded places. But you got a will of your own and a gene for getting distracted, so it's quite the struggle for him sometimes. He'd place a gentle hand between your shoulderblades, guiding you to wherever you need to go.

"Stay close, love."

He texts you out of the blue. And it's usually something weird. Something he's spent a good amount of time pondering over....or no time at all. Sometimes, it's something silly, and others he's thought about something deep and very emotional.

'Do you think I should get a pet for when i retire?'

'How about a dog?'

'No'

'Maybe a turtle'

'I want a turtle'

'Would you help me pick one?'

'Do you ever think about what would happen if I didn't come home from an op?'

'Shit. Sorry'

'I did it again :'( '

'Sorry love'

'You busy?'

'Oi'

'Answer me'

'Please'

'I just need your opinion on something'

Si👻 sent a picture

'Don't laugh. Just tell me if you like the sweater or not'

Simon is definitely someone who texts sporadically.

And speaking of texting. He loves to send you random pictures of animals he finds. No explanation. He just wants you to see the cute cat/dog/squirrel he encountered on a walk around town.

Simon is the kind of friend who you just click with. You don't have to talk much. You just get one another. But still. You yap his ears off every time you spend time together. And he just listens. Oh, Simon loves to hear you yap. He knows it brings some quietness to your, sometimes, racing brain. And he knows. The day he needs to talk, you'll be all ears.

Whenever he leaves for an op (without you), you use your chat, more or less, like a diary. You know he has no access to any kind of network what so ever, while he's away. So, all the messages you send... will only be read once he comes back to base. And even though it's not much, and usually only silly and funny things you send him, he loves every bit of it.

(Even when you use your chat to keep grocery lists in)

When things get rough. Because they will. Life sucks sometimes. You're there for one another. You have an ongoing list of times where you helped each other out because no one else could. (And you wanted no one else to help you)

The time you had the nastiest cold. Like snot everywhere. Coughing your lungs up. Fever. Headaches. Everything. He took some days off from work to help you feel better. He stocked your fridge with vegetable soup and made you like a hundred cuppas until you finally felt like yourself again. All while laughing at you whenever you sneezed without a tissue because you just couldn't keep the snot in.

The time Simons apartment flooded because his upstairs neighbour had busted a pipe, and water began running down Simons walls. In no time, you had helped him collect the few possessions he had at home and brought them to your place. For a few weeks, he occupied your couch while his apartment got fixed.

One time, your bank card had been stolen, and all your accounts were frozen until the card had been deactivated. With no real money to your name at that moment, Simon had lent you at least a month's worth of rent, utilities, and groceries until your bank had settled everything.

Simon once went out to drink with the task force. He had somehow convinced them that he was sober enough to walk home by himself. (He was not.) On the way home, he had managed to trip over his large feet and stumble down the pavement and almost face plant on the empty road. In his drunken state, he had managed to call you and ask for help. Even though it was late, you had gone out for him. Helped him home and into his bathroom. You had helped him clean the scrapes and cuts on his hands, knees, and chin. Brushed his teeth and made him drink some water before you sent him to bed. The next morning, you woke on his couch, the sound of Simons hangover reaching you from the bathroom. He sounded like he was dying. But at least he was up.

When you were working together, your friendship looked a little different. Your work relationship made it hard for him to express his care for you in the way we'd like. So he found other ways. Both of you had to dial down the banter and long yap sessions. So Ghost found discrete ways to be there for you. He made sure your canteen was always filled with water. When he was assigning guard shifts, he would usually put you two on the same shift to ensure you had at least some hours in each others company. Sometimes, he even saved the tiny piece of chocolate from the field rations you ate so he could give it to you whenever you had a shitty day.

When you're on leave, he loves to ask you to go hiking with him. Simon loves to spend time in nature, and he loves to spend time with you. So why not combine it? You spent hours together, both talking about almost everything between heaven and earth, but also in silence, just enjoying the comfort of being around one another.

Also, Simon loves to tease you. Not to be cruel or try to embarrass you. No. He just loves to see you squirm a little. (But he also loves it when you set your foot down. That fire behind your eyes when you tell him to "fucking quit it." He feels proud to see you stand up for yourself. Even if he was the cause of your irritation.)

[aventurineswife]

Me when I become obsessed with Luka from HSR 😔

Anywayy I came here to request some voice lines for Luka about his s/o, if you’d feel up to writing it! I adore your writing, have a good day

Luka's Voicelines about his S/O

So real 😔, I love him he's so 😭🥺🫶. I hope you like this one 🤭💖 and thank you for your compliment and have a good day too! Added some special voicelines too ;)

Ratio's ver | Aventurine's ver | Sunday's ver

First Meeting: A Fateful Encounter

Heh, funny how things happen, huh? I was just trying to get through the day, and then I meet them. One look, and it felt like my world shifted. Something about the way they carried themselves... I just knew they were different.

First Date: No Hero, Just Luka

So, I didn’t exactly have a plan for our first date... I mean, what’s the right way to impress someone who’s already stolen your breath? Turns out, just walking through the Underworld and talking was enough. We laughed about the little things, and for once, I didn’t feel like I had to be a hero—just me.

Thinking About Them: A Grounding Presence

Sometimes, when it’s quiet, I catch myself thinking about them—what they’re doing, if they’re safe. It’s not distracting, though. It’s... grounding. Like no matter how tough things get, there’s someone out there who believes in me.

Favorite Times with Them: Our Quiet Haven

There’s this spot near the Fight Club—quiet, overlooking the ruins. We’d sit there and talk, or not talk. Just... be. Those moments are like a reset button for me. No crowds, no fights, just us.

Plans for the Future: Dreams of Peace

What do I want for the future? Peace for the Underworld, for sure. But beyond that? I want a life with them. A real life. Maybe a small place where we don’t have to fight every day. Just laughter, good food, and a reason to wake up smiling.

Pieces of My Heart

When I’m in the ring, I fight for the Underworld. But when I’m with them? I feel like I’m fighting for something, too. A life worth living, you know?

They said my mechanical arm is ‘cool’—can you believe that? Most people avoid looking at it, but not them. They said it’s a part of me, and that makes it worth admiring.

Every time they cheer me on, it’s like my punches hit harder, my dodges get sharper. I don’t just fight for the crowd—I fight for them.

I’ll never forget the first time they hugged me after a match. I was bruised, bloody, but in their arms, I felt invincible. How does someone do that—make you feel so strong and so vulnerable at the same time?

Combat Voices: Fighting for Love

For you, I’ll give it everything I’ve got!

I can’t afford to lose—not when they’re waiting for me!

This one’s for you. Watch me!

[paimonial-rage]

in another life - xiao

the steambird's secret santa for @swordfish-ii | i tried to make it cozy and angsty but i'm not sure if i succeeded. i hope you enjoy!

“Do you ever think about what we’d be doing if we were born human?” You asked as you gazed up at the sky. It was beginning to snow now. Not heavily, no. It looked as if snowflakes were fluttering across the sky, dotting the torn landscape. 

Xiao followed your gaze as he sat beside where you lay. Wounds and bruises littered his skin and torn were his clothes. The spear in his hand was embedded into the earth, the only thing standing before you both. 

“I’ve… never considered such idle musings,” he replied. 

He was tired. So tired. 

You laughed, though paused midway to cough up the blood threatening to drown your lungs.

“Really? Not once?”

He shook his head. “I don’t see the point in thinking about things that can’t happen.”

You sighed.

“Always so serious,” you pouted. “Well, I like to think about things like that. For example, I bet Brother Bosacius would be a construction worker. Or maybe a blacksmith, you know, with his muscles he’s so proud of and all. And Brother Menogias would be leading the Liyue fashion industry, obviously,” you began, humming in thought. “I bet Rex Lapis would still order clothes from him, even if he was human.”

“I can see that.”

“And Sister Bonanus? I bet she’d be a model for Brother Menogias. Ironic, considering how they ended in this life. I can see her flooding his workshop with all the long pretty dresses she adored.”

“Sister Indarias… I don’t know what she’d be. A business woman, maybe?” You mused. “She was always the fiery type.”

As you spoke, Xiao kept his eyes on the sky, tracing the snowflakes that fell. He didn’t look at the decimated surroundings. Away from his view was your battered body and broken bones. And the memory he held of the frenzied battle against each other just minutes before was out of sight. How you managed to get a brief moment of lucidity from the cancer that was karmic debt was beyond him.

“You… you would be a Wushou dancer,” you began, your voice weaker. “Or some kind of performer part of a troupe, known for your skill and agility. You’d wow the crowds with your acrobatic stunts, I bet. And as for me… I don’t know. Perhaps a normal civilian.”

You coughed again, softer this time. No doubt your eyes would start losing their focus soon. He didn’t have to look at you to know. He’d seen it so, so many times before. 

“And somehow… we’d all be friends, even though we’re so different,” you finally said, a smile evident in your voice. “Brother Bosacius would play pranks on you like usual. Sister Bonanus and Sister Indarias would stay up late chatting about makeup. I’d be begging Brother Menogias for a new outfit. Everything… like how it should be.”

It was quiet between you both now as you stared at the sky. It was beginning to snow heavier now. Soon the evidence of your madness would be lost under a blanket of white. 

“Do you…” You began, your voice wavering for the first time, even weaker than it was before. There was not much time left now. “Do you think our next lives will be happier? And that… we will all be friends?”

“I… don’t know.”

That’s all he could say. Though your words painted a beautiful picture, they weren’t reality. The truth was often less kind than one would hope for. And the last thing he could do was lie to you. You deserved more than that.

“But…”

If you wanted honesty…

His gaze finally turned back to you. There you lie—bruised and battered, bleeding from your wounds, and still as beautiful as the day he first saw you. But gone was the light from your lovely eyes. You would speak no more.

His eyes shut as he let out a tired exhausted sigh. Then, he turned his eyes back up at the sky.

“If… if it did turn out that way… I suppose I wouldn’t mind.”

[ikeuluvr]

KISS ME THRU THE PHONE || Nishimura Riki

synopsis - surviving months on end without you while he’s touring is the equivalent of torture for bf!ni-ki, but thankfully facetime exists…

idol!ni-ki x reader / established relationship - fluff + teeny bit of angst / warnings: none! / word count: ~1k

part of ikeuluvr’s song series ᵔᴗᵔ — works inspired by songs! requests are open for other songs + anything else you would like to see from me <3

Ni-ki loves the rush of performing more than anything in the world. Standing on stage in dozens of different countries—looking out at the faces of his fans while some of them cheer, some laugh, dance, or even cry. The sound of everyone screaming his name makes him feel like the luckiest man alive. He dreads leaving the stage each night; watching the lights of the crowd slowly disappear as the screens close in front of him, giving him one less thing to look forward to. However, the one thing he knows he can always count on is speaking to you at the end of the night.

As much as Ni-ki adores touring, a small glint of guilt always resides in his heart each time he has to leave you for months at a time. Each goodbye is never easier as you go from having him sitting in front of you to propping up your phone screen at the table with him on a call. The time difference was nothing enjoyable either, the both of you waking up at the crack of dawn or going to sleep obnoxiously late depending on where Ni-ki is to make sure you have a chance to speak to each other that day.

As tonight marks week five out of six of being apart, Ni-ki feels especially restless wishing nothing more than for you to be in his arms as he sleeps his exhaustion off tonight. Once he’s driven back to the hotel, he doesn’t waste any time to say good night to his members before trudging to his room and throwing himself onto the bed. He pulls out his phone and speeds to click your contact to start a FaceTime call. Letting out a sigh, he stares at his tired face on his screen until it’s replaced with yours.

“Hi beautiful,” he hums, a smile plastering on his face as all of the energy he lost suddenly rushes back into his body, “I miss you.”

“Hi Riks, I miss you so much too!” you respond excitedly as you get comfortable on your couch, the sunlight peeking through your curtains while the moonlight peeks through Ni-ki’s, “How was the show tonight? I saw clips on social media, you guys were on fire.”

Ni-ki lets out an endeared chuckle at how adorable you are—the way you always keep track of every performance makes his heart flutter, “It was really really good! I love the Chicago crowd, they’re amazing. They were so loud tonight I could barely hear myself sing even with my monitors in.”

You flash a smile, listening intently as he speaks, his eyes sparkling with each word, “Aww I’m glad, it’s what you guys deserve,” you say, “I wish I could’ve been there. It looked so fun.”

“Yeah… me too,” Ni-ki answered, his tone dropping softly as the pain of missing you starts to hit again, “I keep wanting to look for you in the crowd until I remember you’re not here.”

A frown takes over your face as Ni-ki’s voice gets solemn, your heart slowly breaking at the way his face immediately drops, “Honey… only one more week, right? Only one more week and then we can spend every night cuddling in bed again while I kiss you all over your pretty face,” I grin, trying to cheer him up a little bit.

Ni-ki lets out a laugh as a pink blush covers his cheeks, “I’ll be counting down the week by the minute, don’t worry,” he hums before pausing, a smirk drawn on his face, “Do you think you could drop of of university to start touring with me?”

“Well! No…” you laugh, “Probably not the best idea sweetie, but good question.”

“I’m kidding, I wouldn’t let you do that even if you wanted to,” Ni-ki smiles, “But I really do wish you could be here with me every night. I love my job, but I love you so much more and I just-” he lets out a defeated sigh, “I wish I could bring you along and triple the joy I feel on tour by having you in the crowd each night.” His face falls again, a mix of irritation and heartache quickly filling his voice.

You tilt your head with a pout as Ni-ki’s eyes leave the screen to look somewhere else, the pained look on his face killing you inside, “I know Riki… I wish more than anything I could be with you too. In the future when things are a little different, we’ll travel the world together, hm? I’ll make you my cute little tour guide in every country,” you snicker with a smile, trying to bring him out of his melancholic state.

He lets out a snort at your response, playfully rolling his eyes, “Okay babe, I promise to be your cute and very handsome tour guide in the future,” Ni-ki retorts, letting out a long breath, “Hey love, can you give me a kiss?”

You quirk an eyebrow at his request thinking the jet lag may be getting to him at an exponential level and pause for a second to think of how to respond, “Ummm… I would love to baby, but there’s kind of an obstacle in the way if you haven’t noticed.”

“No, no I know, I’m not stupid I promise,” he chuckles, “But I miss you, I miss you, I really wanna kiss you…”

“And how are you expecting me to do this, Riks?”

“Baby, kiss me thru the phone,” Ni-ki says in a shy whisper, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips making you smile and flush a rosy pink, “Come on… I know you want to.”

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that?” you laugh, absolutely smitten with your boyfriend on the other end of the line, “But fine… I’ll kiss you thru the phone babe.”

Ni-ki lets out a giggle as he cheeses a boxy smile, quickly bringing the phone closer to his face and planting a kiss to his phone camera just as excitedly as if it were your actual lips he was kissing. You do the same with a lovesick grin painted on your face, pulling away a few seconds later to see the same adoring smile on Ni-ki’s lips, “We get to do that but for real in 7 days you know���” you remind him with a playful smile.

“Can’t wait baby… see you then.”

masterlist

[eggyrocks]

EGGNOG & MISTLETOE

happy holidays @nowoyas i’m your secret santa and this is for you <3 part of the hq x reader secret santa organized by @lale-txt

tags/warnings: nishinoya x gn reader, holiday party, mentions of alcohol, jealousy

word count: 1.1k

Nishinoya’s stomach is churning. He keeps telling himself it’s because of the rum-spiked eggnog Tanaka insisted he drink, and not because of the way you’re looking at Kuroo Tetsuro.

He came to this party for you, put on this itchy holiday sweater for you, and he’s really trying not to be upset over the fact that he’s not here with you. That instead of you staying glued to his side all night, you’re smiling eagerly as Kuroo regales you with tales of his fancy office job, or whatever.

And really, he knows that he shouldn’t be this jealous. He couldn’t even recall the last time you’d seen Kuroo, and it’s not like you ever talk about him, so he shouldn’t have anything to worry about, if he’s been honest with himself. But it just irks him, seeing you smile at someone else like that. It should be him. That’s really all Nishinoya is able to think about as he watches the scene play out before him.

It should be him.

It gets too hot there, standing there with his spiked eggnog and his stuffy red sweater. And then, Nishinoya has to watch as you giggle at something Kuroo says, and it becomes too much. He suddenly, very desperately needs some air. He deposits the half-full cup of eggnog in the trash and makes his way towards the back of the house, sneaking out the backdoor.

What Nishinoya doesn’t see though, is how your eyes follow him. The second he breaks away from the crowd, your eyes follow him, and Kuroo becomes an after-thought.

Nishinoya opens and closes the door behind him and takes a seat on the step. It’s cold, but he appreciates it. His face is red, and his thoughts are spinning. He tries to calm them, attempting to conjure up images of anything other than you and Kuroo. But it’s not working; he squeezes his eyes shut and sees yours squinted up in a delighted smile at Kuroo’s words.

He groans. He knows he doesn’t have a right to be jealous. He knows you can talk to Kuroo all you want. Despite his wishes, you’re not his, so there’s nothing he can really say. And it sort of just feels like shit, for him.

Nishinoya’s in the middle of these agonized thoughts when the door opens and closes behind him once again. His head turns to see you, and his mouth pops open slightly in surprise. “What are you doing out here?” he asks, watching as you take a seat beside him.

You sit, the side of your thigh brushing against his. “Saw you coming out here, figured I’d join you. Why are you out here?”  

He shrugs. “I just needed a breather, I guess,” he admits. And it’s true. Thirty more seconds of witnessing the scene before him and he might’ve snapped, intervened when he shouldn’t’ve.

“That doesn’t sound like you,” you remark, and he has to agree. Normally he’d be chugging that god-awful eggnog along with Tanaka and signing along horribly to some old Christmas song. Of course you’d notice. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Nishinoya says. “Just thinking. It’s hot in there, so the cold’s nice.”

“Hmm,” you muse, rubbing your hands together. Nishinoya watches them, and thinks they might be cold. He has this impulse to grab them and hold them in his own. “I missed you. I feel like I haven’t gotten to see you all night.”

His heart thumps a bit harder at this. “Yeah, I know. Kuroo’s hogging you, the dick.”

You snort, and you drop your head down to rest it on his shoulder. And Nishinoya takes this a sign. He reaches over, and places one of his hands on top of yours. They’re cold to the touch, and he hopes you’ll appreciate the warmth. You guys are close, he figures, it won’t seem so out of place.

“Well, you know,” you say, eyes dropping to your hands, “I’d much rather be spending my time with you, anyways.”

And at once, Nishinoya’s mood spins around, and he suddenly can’t help but puff up his chest a bit in pride. “Really?” he questions.

“Of course,” you say, pulling away your head to look him in the eye. “There’s no one else I’d rather spend my time with.”

And Nishinoya hears you, but all he can focus on is how close you are. His eyes scan over the details of your face, from the curve of your mouth to the way your eyes sparkle in the light that emits from the house. And he’s always known that he’s loved you, but he really feels it then. He feels it with his whole chest. He loves you, and he wants to kiss you. He wants it more than anything.

“Yeah,” he says, though it feels awkward coming out of his mouth. His throat feels dry, all of the sudden. “I feel the same.”

There’s a slight smile on your face that makes Nishinoya feel like there’s something erupting inside of him. He wants to kiss you. He thinks he’s going to kiss you.

And then, the door slams open behind the two of you. Nishinoya jumps.

Tanaka is standing there, body language sloppy and leaning against the door frame. “Oh, there you two are,” he slurs, obviously drunk off of his own creation. He holds up on hand, and Nishinoya’s gut drops at the sight of a bundle of mistletoe pinched between his fingers. “Been looking for you everywhere, now you gotta kiss.”

Nishinoya reaches out and swats at his shins. “Man, fuck off,” he says, though there’s no bite in his voice.

“No,” Tanaka insists. “You guys gotta kiss, those are the rules.”

You tug at Nishinoya’s hand, and he turns his head back to look at you. You lean in, and place a soft, warm kiss on his cheek. It lingers there for a second, and Nishinoya can’t help when both his jaw drops. He thinks his chest might burst.

You pull away and smile at him, before turning to Tanaka. “There, you happy?”

“Mistletoe rules have been satisfied. Now come back in, we’re doing karaoke, and I need my duet partner, man.”

Nishinoya groans, but you stand, encouraging him to follow by interlocking your fingers with him and tugging him to his feet. “C’mon,” you tell him with a soft smile, “we can talk more later.”

He follows, and delights in the way you never let go of his hand in the process. Nishinoya stares at your interlocked hands, and grins.

And later in the night, after his duet with Tanaka and several more drinks of that horrible eggnog, he finds a confused Kuroo, and proudly declares that he won.

happy holidays y'all <3

[user1smvtysturniolo]

Slap a bow on it for ya | Matt Sturniolo

(Since he said this in the last car video, an idea of fanfic came to my head and I hope it doesnt flop!)

Pairing: sassy!soft!dom!Matt x sub!shy!reader

Summary: Matt knew that your aesthetic was coquette and how much you loved stuff like that so he decided to have a little detail with you.

Trigger Warning: established relationship, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving) pet names, swearing

Let me know if you wanna be on my tag list, xoxo

It's been a long time since you saw Matt, your boyfriend because of work and other stuff. And this time you decided to come over to his house to give him a surprise, and surprisingly for you too, he was alone at home and had something prepared for you.

"Hi Matt!" I greeted him with a hug as he opened the door. "Hi sweetheart, I expected you would come soon now. It's been days since I've seen you" he said as he hugged me tighter and shut the door. It's only been 4 days but he's really clingy I love that about him. "You look so pretty with that lacy dress, with that little bow on ya" he playfully said as he checked me out when we pulled out from the hug. "Oh, yeah?" I gave him a 360, letting him see the bow on my hair too. "So girly! Love it!" He said with a funny baby voice, trying to mock the way I talk with my friends. I looked up at Matt and crossed my arms "Matt!" I pouted my lips, trying to be mad at him

He grabbed my waist. "Com' on, ya know I'm playing 'round" he winked as he kissed my lips. First it was a normal kiss, but then he slid his tongue in, taking more dominance. He grabbed me and made his way to his room, not breaking the kiss. When we got there he shut the door with his leg and placed me on his bed. "You're just too damn cute when you try to act upset." He chuckles, voice low and playful as he crowds over you on the bed, hands wandering up your sides. "But really, babe, you look gorgeous. That dress really shows off your curves" He bit his lip. His gaze was heated, full of adoration as his thumb brushes over your cheekbone. "Now, how could I resist such a pretty baby?" In one smooth motion he's kneeling before you, hands settling on your knees to gently push them apart. His own eyes flicker up to meet yours, seeking permission with his actions more than words.

You lick your lips and nod. "Mmm, you know exactly what you're doing." You say breathily, parting your legs a little more, baiting him further, your eyes begging for more. He grins at your actions, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that smirk you love so much. "Oh I sure do, babe." Leaning in, he kisses the inside of your thigh tenderly, his hands gliding up your legs under the hem of your dress, fingertips dancing over your sensitive skin. He hums against your warm flesh, looking up once more, eyes intense, yet soft around the edges for just you. "God I need you." He murmured to himself as he quickly started to remove my dress leaving me in my underwear. Before removing my panties he started kissing my inner thighs, softly. It made me want to squirm under his touch and kisses. When he finally removed my thongs, his eyes narrowed at the sight of my soaking walls. "Fuck..." he swore to himself.

Before he did anything. He looked up at my blushing face and spoke up. "Baby... I have something you might like" he grinned as he searched for something in his drawer and got a bow. He put it in his middle and ring finger. "Let's slap a bow on it for ya'" he smirked as he finally put those two fingers in, pumping in and out, earning a loud gasp from me. Your eyes widen, cheek blushing at his playful words and the sassyness and unexpected action. He watches your reaction closely, a self-satisfied glint in his eyes. I moan out his name as I start grinding my hips against his fingers, my legs shaking a bit, my eyes watering from the intense sensations taking over. "Oh god yes...Matt...". I moan out. "That's it, let it all out" Matt's movements start picking up a pace with your movements, the bed starting to creak in time with the pace.

"Your noises are so damn hot." Matt removes his fingers and replaces it by his mouth. Working his tongue in and out, you're so overwhelmed you gripped on his hair as you moaned loudly. He's mesmerized by your ecstasy. My body is arched completely off the bed now, overwhelmed by the pleasure his fingers are giving, the muscles in my legs trembling violently under his hands. "You look gorgeous when you come undone for me." He groans out against my pussy, I whimper at the feeling of his words in my pussy. Matt loved making you a squirm mess. He decides to keep the pressure consistent, determined to get a good orgasm.

"You close, baby?" he whispers as he looks up, his fingers making their way on my pussy hole again and deeper earning a big gasp from me. When I looked up at him, I saw how he licked his mouth from my juices, turned me on so bad. He slid his free hand up to caress your chest teasingly over my bra. "Matt... I'm going to cum" I manage to say between moans. With a final cry of his name, waves of intense pleasure wash through me as I finally come hard, my inner walls pulsating around his fingers still buried inside. He slowly draws his fingers out, watching you intently as you ride out every shiver and aftershock. "Fucking beautiful..." he sighs, his own breaths coming in ragged gasps. "You did so good, babe. You're amazing" He brings his glistening digits to his lips, sucking them clean with a low groan.