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anantaru · 8 months ago

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GENSHIN + HE TALKS YOU THROUGH IT

— ꒰ including ꒱ — diluc, wriothesley, childe, ayato

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — dirty talk, oral (fem! receiving) rough syx & dom genshin men, petnames used: baby, love, darling, good girl, pussy drunk men, fem! reader ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ

— ꒰ DILUC ꒱

you wince, before feeling diluc's hands caress your frame softly as he urges you towards the bed slightly, "lay down, c’mon hurry for me, i will get on my knees for you," your face burned at his words, your blood boiling extremely hot— regardless, you do not go against your boyfriends instructions and obediently drop on your back, head bouncing against the soft pillows and legs propped up your heels.

diluc follows you right away, settling his hands against your lower stomach, "let me slip these off you," and his voice was pummeling into your blood, sounding raspier than usual, presenting himself teasingly, taunting

how can someone be so sexy, yet also gentleman alike at the very same time?

you always wonder and never find an answer.

his fingers are skillful, yet they are also dangerous, feverishly slipping into the waistband of your wet panties to slide them off you— your pussy bare and exposed now, clenching around nothing as it earns you a disgustingly sinful groan from him.

"there you go, you're so pretty," he breathes and spits on your clit before rubbing the saliva over your puffy folds with his digits, "my pretty girl."

diluc leans into your thighs and places a subtle kiss on your knee, holding a crooked smile— such kiss was certainly concealing something beneath the surface, mingled with aroused ideas of how the next couple of hours will look like.

"you know what to do, right?" he motions, getting on his knees as his dick presses painfully against his tight pants. of course, you know what he's talking about and situate your legs against his shoulders, earning yourself an appreciate hum from the red haired man.

without a word, warm air wafts over your slicked folds and trembling skin as diluc's fingers hold against you gently, the tip of his wet muscle experimentally nudging at the hood of your sensitive clit.

he doesn't falter in his rhythm and gives your cunt a good, fat lap of tongue and saliva before trailing down to your hole.

he noses his way to your clit and presses his mouth against it firmly, your cunt throbbing at the connect of his tongue licking you in shifting patterns, the vehement sounds of saliva and arousal slapping and slapping and splattering all over his tongue had your toes curled, lips parted.

"ooh you taste so good darling, you taste so fucking good, fuck—" he moans, and he sounded so desperate, like he's going to skip the foreplay once and for all and fuck you into the bee until you couldn't walk nor move for weeks.

your legs entwine and shiver on his shoulders, your control over your body lost and slipping from the palms of your hands as murmurs of encouragement hit your sensitive pussy— your fingers splayed possessively into his scarlet hair as you ride his face and cry his name.

"let me make you feel good, it's gonna feel good, promise," diluc mumbles into your cunt as his nose continuously nudges into your puffy clit, his slender fingers probing at your hole when his tongue laps around you.

in between your quivering thighs— everything felt wet, disgustingly sloppy and so hot and you wonder if diluc didn't secretly use his vision on you to get this particular effect from you.

alas, his slacked mouth was meeting your hips, your core stuttering up into his face as you craved, no, needed more friction, needed more of his voice crumbling at the taste of you as your eyes drift over the fluffy clouds of pleasure in your head.

— ꒰ WRIOTHESLEY ꒱

wriothesley looks down on your twisted expression and a sheen line of sweat pillowing on your forehead, "look at me," his face was tilted at the side as you felt his complete weight cover, crush and fold your body in half.

the press and burn of his cock was breaching in and out of you fast, in fact, yes, wriothesley was aware of your strong liking towards his dominating aura in the bedroom, especially when he's looking at you through glazed eyes and his sweat laced chest rising and falling when you clench around him.

he knows it all, and he's been wanting to pleasure you over and over all this time.

"look at me in my eyes," he commands again, forcing you to look at him, yet all you could muster was to part your eyes slightly, an overcast mist of salaciousness prevailing over you.

he shatters, widens and parts your sloppy hole effortlessly, turning you addicted off the strong, thick compress in your pussy that you almost didn't even realize he's managed to coax literal tears from your eyes, pull them out one by one, small crystals sinfully glimmering on your sticky lashes and shouting more more more.

"you're so good, you're so good, my good fucking girl," he drawls proudly and smirks down at you, his voice explosive with thirst and longing, "my good girl, mine, you hear me?" as he assures you and moves his hips with one quick roll of his dripping dick, beginning to fuck into you.

wriothesley knows you deserve it, deserve to be bounced back and forth the bed until you're full of his semen, yes, you do, and you know it.

"you feel me in you? feel me, fucking feel me baby,"

driven by curiosity, you focus your eyes at the man on top of you, swearing there was nothing more handsome than somebody like wriothesley, a highly respected duke, whispering those sweet and filthy profanities into your mouth while his cock thickens within your soft walls, "does that feel good, yeah? i can see it on your face"

"yesyesyes… it does," you whine and squeeze at his words, his cock dragging and pressing and dragging so strongly along your wet walls before he's stuttering in midst a long, languid thrust, his head thrown back and facing up the ceiling— not long after, loading you up of his creamy cum.

— ꒰ CHILDE ꒱

"come on, show me how good i make you feel," childe messily flicks his cock-head over the reactive hood of your clit, poking and tapping at your softness as you moan out his name— making him laugh at you sweetly, although breathless, his chest rising, pupils dilated wide with hunger, gaze luxuriant upon your naked body.

childe knows how to handle you— until your thighs were shaking and hole spread wide as you're soaking him, ruining him and turn the harbingers usual confidence-loaded expression into a shade of something else— something almost frightening.

"you want it? you want my cock, hm?" he fists himself in front of you, pushing in deep through the small tunnel in his palm as you whine out for him in desperation, "yes baby, please, i want to feel you,"

ajax laughs, humming in approval at the choice of words in your answer, "i know you do, baby, there you go then," as he towers proudly against your skin, his handsome face all twisted and menacing on top of you as he inserts the head slowly.

"feel my tip, right there," he continues and groans when your hole flawlessly forms around him, rasping harshly inside his throat, "you're so wet, fuck, ’m gonna slide in really easy, aren't i?"

this is good, this is so fucking good— archons, childe believes he must be in heaven right now.

you're just so warm, so soft and wet, how was he supposed to let alone breathe when you're taking him so well?

he grumbles lowly, starting to press his cock into you as he digs his fingers into your hips before testing the waters, rolling his hips a little faster, then alternating between fast and slow to find the best rhythm for the both of you. afresh— he pulls a long, shaky moan from past your swollen lips when he finds your sore spots, your skin pressing and slapping together in a delirious tempo and pitches of rapture.

"let me take care of you, i got this," you clutch on to him tenderly and nod your head, your spit filthily pooling at your throat as childe tenderly kisses your temple, "don't hurt your sweet, little head over this, leave it to me, yeah? fuck baby, okay...okay, i'm gonna— fuck you're so tight,"

his thrusts turn more impatient and uneven, although the heaviness was still unmatched as your walls were grabbing him, pulling him in deeper, your hips instinctively rutting up into his to feel more and more, just fucking more, "fuck, i'm gonna make you feel so good tonight,"

— ꒰ AYATO ꒱

ayato's cheeks, jaw and eyes were illuminated by the sight of your body pulled underneath his own— and his cock was oozing of clear pre, his hand rubbing over his solid erection until the sticky semen dribbles down the crook of your thigh.

in any remembered previous night, ayato had always been very much into foreplay, well, only if his frustration levels were on the lower side. in terms of now, he cannot be bothered to focus on his train of thoughts when all the blood was stored in his rock-hard cock thudding heavily and hurting him.

it's so painful— but watching your pussy being empty and not full of his cock was even more distressing.

he slaps his tip over your hole before sheathing himself up with you, his eyebrows lasciviously quirked at you, "all the way in, love, i'm going all the way in," he began to pull his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration, your eyes glazed over as he watches you writhe beneath him the moment he inserts himself.

you gasp audibly, your body tensing and nerves freezing at the solid press on your hole before your back instinctively arches into his defined chest.

"oh you feel too damn good, fuck, you're messing with me, aren't you?" his lips drag over your searing cheeks, drinking up your budding tears and the drool slipping from past your lips, lapping it all up with one single lick of tongue.

"you feel me there? right there," you felt his warm hand press against your stomach, an intoxicating combination of bliss and sensitivity rushing through your system as his body was near close to crushing you with his weight.

ayato was fucking ruthless, frustrated and as if it's his last time of being inside of you— no shame, no pauses, only pushing into you weightily, his balls smacking against your ass as you're feeling so satisfied when your pussy quivers around him, holding him close.

"open your legs a lil more for me, c'mon, i know you can do it" he groans and fucks into you with one sharp push and shove, "i wanna fit it all inside," before stretching and driving you towards insanity.

his tone was as focused as his expression and his stance, "you've always done it so good for me," as you squeeze the moment he says it out loud— the moment he reminds you of all the countless of times where he's left you utterly spent and full of his cum, your hole throbbing and letting it ooze out before he fucks it right back into you, turning you breathless.

��2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

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vivwritesfics · 4 months ago

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In Trouble

Max and Charles aren't there. Lando knows what they're not allowed to do while Max and Charles are gone, he just doesn't care.

Norlestappen x reader

warning: smut, p in v, cockwarming, talks of punishment i suppose

Lando's hands gripped her hips as she pushed her fingers through his curls. Just staring into his eyes as Lando stared right back at her. "You're so pretty, Lan," she whispered and tugged on his girls, pulling his head back.

He groaned, grin crossing his face. She leaned forward, rested against his shoulder and kissed at his thick neck. He squeezed her hips just a little tighter, rocking her against his lap.

It was just the two of them home. Charles was in Italy and Max was in England, leaving the two of them by themselves. For the first day, they'd been moping around, ordered in pizza so they could sit against each other on the couch, empty spaces on either side of them.

By day two, they were over it. Max and Charles wouldn't be gone forever, and they could have fun while they were gone.

That was how she ended up on Lando's lap, kissing and sucking bruises into his neck. Low enough that it would be covered up on the upcoming race weekend. But Lando wouldn't cover it up. He'd walk into the paddock wearing something that didn't cover up his neck, walking with his head held high to show off.

"C'mon," Lando whispered, his hands slipping lower. "Can we?"

She stilled against him, pulling her lips away from his neck. "Lando, no," she whispered, lifting her head from his shoulder. "We're not allowed."

That was right, they weren't allowed. On the first day they had been too upset to be needy. But Lando had been sitting with it, letting it stir in him. She was the good one, the one who wouldn't even think about anything like that. Lando was the bad influence, and she knew she couldn't say no to him.

He pouted as he looked down at her. "Please, baby," he whispered, gripping the flesh of her thighs. "They're not gonna know."

Pulling her lip between her teeth, she nodded. She wanted it, wanted him.

Lando held her chin. "You're so good," he whispered and leaned in to kiss her. She knew she was good, it was something she prided herself in. Her cheeks were hot and she grinning as Lando began kissing her neck, pushing her underwear to the side and pushing his fingers inside.

The sex itself was quick. Lando slipped inside of her. He bounced her on top of him, his own hips bucking up. The two of them together, it was quick, needy, desperate. Max and Charles would draw everything out, would have the two of them shaking from overstimulation as they held each other for comfort.

But, now, they had the same goal. They wanted to cum, and that was it. It didn't take long before she clenched around him, finished and becoming sensitive. Lando stilled, spilling inside of her.

On shaking legs, she went to climb off of him, but Lando held her still. "Hang on," he mumbled, still breathing heavily. She was still clenching around him as she laid her head back against his shoulder.

The two fell asleep like that, sitting on the sofa with Lando still inside of her. Maybe if they knew Max and Charles were coming home, they would have cleaned up a bit. They would have hidden what they were doing.

But Charles and Max were early. A whole day early. Max unlocked the door and let himself and Charles in. Their loves were going to be asleep, they knew. They were going to be in the bed, holding each other with space on either side of them for Max and Charles to slip into.

Bodies tired, the two men walked into the living room. Just a simple glass of water from the kitchen, that was all they wanted. But they got a lot more than that.

At first, the scene in front of them was cute. The two of them cuddled together on the sofa, Lando holding her close. He was drooling on the top of her head, but she didn't need to know that.

Charles and Max stopped. They looked at each other, smiling. But they knew they couldn't leave them on the sofa.

Max was gentle as he removed Lando's arms from around her. He went to lift her up, but both she and Lando let out desperate whines. That was when they saw it, Lando's dick slipping out of her.

Charles and Max looked at each other again. Max set her down and Charles worked on waking up Lando. He pushed his fingers through his hair and then tugged.

Lando's eyes flew open. He looked at the two men in front of him, his eyes wide. "Shit," he muttered under his breath as he looked at them, his lap empty.

"Been busy, Lan?" Charles asked as she began waking up.

She looked around in confusion, taking in her other two boyfriends. Panic overtook her slightly and she wrapped her arms around Max. "It was all Lando!" She cried, lips against Max's cheek. Trying to be sweet, he understood. "He made me do it."

Other hands were on her waist, pulling her away from Max. "It takes two to tango, ma chérie," Charles muttered, shaking his head at her. They had no doubt it was mostly Lando's doing, but she had still played her part.

"You two are in so much trouble," Max said with a grin.

Whimpering, she turned to give Charles the attention she tried to give Max, acting sweet on him. It wouldn't work, everybody knew, but she still tried.

But Lando, he was grinning. His grin matched Max's, and he couldn't wait. He was in so much trouble, and he loved it.

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rafesangelita · 3 months ago

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Pouge!Sweetheart!Reader and Rafe request! Rafe gets carried away in bed with dirty talk, saying degrading mean stuff about her being a pouge, because he is really horny and she gets a bit taken back because she doesn’t know if he truly feels that way about her and he can tell she is a bit standoffish and down after and he doesn't know what he has done :(

warnings: unprotected sex, degradation, light fluff, a little bit of angst, rafe feels rlly bad :(

both you and rafe managed to surprise each other when you two proposed new ideas to spice up your sex life. choking, overstimulation, roleplay, degradation, to name a few. while rafe reassured you that he loved how vanilla you two were in bed, you wanted to be everything and more for him, your own mind a little curious to see where he takes things. the first time rafe decided to rough things up a bit, it brought new sides out of both of you, and you equally loved it. however, you didn’t know how to feel about degradation this time around.

“oh, my- please don’t stop rafe!” you cried out, the band in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment, your boyfriend’s hips pistoning in and out of you at an unforgiving speed. “so fucking needy, huh? always wanting more like the fucking pogue you are?” his words made you blink, unsure of what he meant by that. you still moaned, his length pressing that spot inside of you that made you tremble. rafe leaned down, taking your lips in a kiss. “you’re so fucking sexy, who woulda’ thought a pogue had it like this?”

there he goes again. this time when he kissed you, you didn’t move your lips, your mind simply somewhere else. eventually rafe finished, his arms caging you in as he cursed against your skin. thankfully he didn’t pay too much attention to your face, instead he pulled you against his chest and spooned you as he whispered sweet nothings in the curve of your neck. he intertwined your fingers, rubbing your back soothingly until you fell asleep.

the next day you woke up early, still feeling off from last night. while rafe was snoring softly, you managed to slip out of his arms, taking it upon yourself to get ready and go out to get breakfast. apart of you felt bad for going out without him, and quite literally leaving your camper without a word, but you needed some space to clear your head. soon enough, your cell was ringing off the hook with calls and voicemails from rafe. when you got back home, rafe was sitting on the little steps outside, his knee bouncing as he chewed on his thumb.

“where were you?!” rafe looked confused as you walked past him and inside. “i got breakfast.” you shrugged, your voice barely above a whisper. “breakfast?” he watched you take a seat on your little couch, his hands on his hips as he stared down at you. rafe didn’t know what to think, as far as he knew he thought everything was fine, great even, between you two. “what’s wrong?” he sat down, immediately picking up on the way you avoided his gaze. “hey, talk to me, tell me what i did, baby.” he grabbed your chin.

you looked up at him, concern written all over his face. “last night,” you started, “..you said some things that bothered me.” you swallowed thickly. rafe shut his eyes momentarily. “i was a little thrown off when you mentioned the whole ‘pogue’ thing.” you watched as the realization dawned on him, a groan leaving his lips as he rested his head in his hands. “fuck,” he cursed, “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean anything i said, y/n. i wasn’t thinking straight.” he shook his head. you sighed, placing your arms around him.

“even the part where you said i was sexy?” rafe paused, a laugh tumbling from his mouth as he turned his eyes on you. you were too sweet for your own good. “no, i definitely meant that.” he clarified, resting his forehead on yours. “i’m so sorry if i made you feel bad, that was never my intention.” he hugged you, pulling you onto his lap. you studied his face, knowing he was genuine. “i know you are. it’s okay.” you pecked his lips. “how about this,” he took your hand, “instead of us trying to make things ‘rougher’ why don’t we try softer? praise instead of degradation?”

you smiled, nodding at him while he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “..i can’t believe you got breakfast without me.”

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hoshifighting · 4 months ago

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lyla….. i gotta know what car sex with svt would be like 🫦

seungcheol likes it on the backseat, your legs splayed across the leather, windows fogged up. he grinds into you, seats squeaking underneath. he’s relentless, fucking you hard against the door, his hands gripping your thighs like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. the music’s soft in the background, but all you can hear is his groaning, breathless curses tumbling from his lips. he loves it when you moan loud, one hand tangled in your hair as he takes you to the edge over and over again. his size? barely fits in the car, but he makes it work, leaning in close to whisper filthy things in your ear between thrusts.

jeonghan parks somewhere dark, secluded, with the windows cracked just enough for the cool air to sneak in so his blood pressure doesn't fall. or has you bent over the hood of the car, your hands gripping the cold metal as he kisses down your spine. the way he fucks you is almost leisurely, like he’s got all the time in the world, but it drives you insane. he chuckles every time you whimper his name, pushing back into him for more. he’ll whisper sweet nothings into your ear after, like he didn’t just ruin you on the side of the road.

joshua likes it on the front seat, hands firm as he pulls you into his lap, your knees digging into the dashboard while you ride him. the windows are rolled down, and the night air cools the heat between you. he’s not wild with his movements, but god, the way he looks at you while you move together is everything. his lips are constantly on you—your neck, your chest, your lips—soft whispers of your name mingled with his breathy moans.

junhui’s energy is through the roof, and it’s no different when things get nasty in the car. you’re in the backseat, straddling him while the music’s blasting through the speakers. the windows are cracked open, enough for the outside world to hear the way he moans your name, unashamed, unapologetic. he’s got you bouncing on his lap, his hands gripping your waist, guiding your movements like he’s choreographing your entire night. there’s no slowing down with him—it’s fast, intense, almost overwhelming, but exactly what you crave. he loves watching the way your face twists with pleasure, his lips tugging into a grin every time you get louder.

hoshi takes over the second you suggest anything risky. he’s the kind who wants to fuck you outside the car, no matter how reckless it is. he’ll have you pinned up against the side of the car, your legs wrapped around his waist while his hips snap forward relentlessly. the music's thumping from inside the car, but the only thing you’re focused on is the way he fills you up, him constantly whispering dirty things in your ear, loving the way your breath catches when he moves just right. the sounds he makes are loud and needy, almost like he can’t get enough. and honestly, he never can.

wonwoo’s the quiet type, but in the car, he’s something else. you’re in the backseat, seats reclined just enough for him to slide between your legs. the windows up, keeping everything intimate, the heat trapped inside the car. he’s not one to moan loudly, but the little sounds he makes are everything—soft, breathy grunts that makes u wet. his hand finds its way to your throat, not rough, just enough pressure to make you feel grounded, connected. you can feel the tension in his body, the way he tries to hold back but eventually lets go, his forehead pressed against yours.

woozi doesn’t do anything halfway. both of you in the front seat, the chair reclined as far back as it can go, but it’s still a tight fit. he’s hovering over you, thrusting into you at a brutal pace, his breath hot against your neck. the music’s off—he doesn’t need it—preferring the sound of your moans, the way your body responds to him. he’s not much of a talker during sex, but the way his grip tightens on your hips, the way he buries his face in your neck, says everything. his stamina is unreal, and he won’t stop until he’s sure you’re completely wrecked.

minghao + sex + you + front seat, straddling him as he sits back, his hands lazily resting on your hips. he loves watching the way you react, afraid that someone can see you through the window, but also too horny to care. the windows are cracked, and there’s soft music playing, but the real soundtrack is the way he breathes out your name every time you roll your hips just right. he’s quiet, focused, but the tension in his body says everything—he’s holding back, making sure you come undone before he even thinks about finishing.

mingyu and car sex? it’s wild, messy, and absolutely addictive. the backseat suffers on fitting with his size, but he makes it work. windows are fogged up, the car rocking slightly with the force of his thrusts. the way he moans is loud, unfiltered, mixing with your cries, you can be as loud as you want, you know the car 'walls' are going to muffle it. he would often eat you out inside the car too, before an event, before a family dinner.

seokmin is the type of funny that makes you laugh and then, on the next second, you are naked for him, laughing between gasps as he tickles your sides before pulling you into his lap. he’s vocal—really vocal—moaning and laughing all at once, telling you how good you feel, how much he loves being with you. he’s got this playful energy, even when he’s fucking you hard, every time you gasp, he grins wider, loving the way you react to him. he’ll pull you in for sloppy kisses, his breath mixing with yours as the car shakes with the force of your movements. when you both finish, he’s still giggling, pulling you close and telling you how much fun that was, like it wasn’t the most intense thing you’ve ever experienced.

seungkwan likes it because it ends up being messier than in bed. you get sweat faster, you get tired faster, the lungs burn, and the windows start to drip from being humid. he would hit his head on the car's roof zillions times, would laugh, but keep fucking you, when you're on top, he put a hand on the top of your head to prevent you to hit your head as the other circles your clit.

vernon loves it the most. love how the sex smells way faster inside the car. would have a playlist just for car sex, and would draw on the foggy windows of your car after. the quietness of the car insides, makes your moans more prominent so he can appreciate it.

chan would love to finger you while he drives. the radio is turned off, so he can hear the wetness of your pussy enveloping his fingers, the silence in the car makes him focus on it. when you two decided to make a stop, he want to fuck you outside, bent over the closed trunk leaving a stamp of your tits on it.

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fuckmysuguru · 4 months ago

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JJK MEN + SEX POSITIONS.

18+, smut, sex positions ofc, dirty talk, impact play.

It's been... a while lol. I dunno what made me do this, but I'm sure someone has done it before. Anyway this is my take on it, have fun.

SATORU GOJO + LAZY DOG; He loves to touch, nothing new. With his hand on your lower back and the other one holding your hip, Satoru leans down to leave a trail of kisses at the nape of your neck. This is one of his favorites because he can see everything, and it won't make you as tired as regular doggy. "Love to watch this pretty ass bounce back," He says, spreading your cheeks and watching his cock slide in and out, almost as if he is hypnotized. If he is feeling particularly mean, he will push your head further into the bed. He can push his hips all the way in, he can slap your ass until it burns, and you beg for him to stop— he won't— and he can either cum inside you and watch it drip, or cum all over your back only to smear it with his fingers like the nasty dog he is.

SUGURU GETO + FACE TO FACE; Wrapping your leg around his hip, Suguru groans into your neck, holding you close, feeling your breasts against his chest. He loves how close you feel, how he can kiss you if he wants to, to enjoy that feeling of his tongue sliding against you as his cock stretches you perfectly. Suguru adores to see every little expression, from the way you furrow your brows every time the tip of his fat cock nudges against that sweet spot, to the way your eyes roll back when he sneaks a hand between your sweaty bodies to circle your clit. "Look at me when you cum, angel," He whispers. Bonus points if he stays inside you after, falling asleep with his arms around you.

NANAMI KENTO + MISSIONARY; You can laugh, but you will cry the second he slides in. Nanami lifts your legs, draping them over his shoulders and kissing your ankles as he drives into you, holding your jaw to keep your eyes on him. "Can you feel me, sugar?" He asks, letting go of your face to lay his large palm flat on your lower stomach. "Can you feel me moving inside you?" Oh, yes, yes you can. On a rough day— well, he loves to see how much he can push your legs closer to your chest, fold you in half as he fucks you into oblivion. His eyes will see everything, admire how your breasts bounce and how your back arches, how you grip his forearms and how you scream his name as you cum around his cock.

CHOSO + 69; Poor little angel, if he could live with his head between your thighs, you know he would. Choso moans like a bitch in heat when he eats you, and this position is no exception. He laps at your slick, using his thumb to rub your clit— just like you taught him— and desperately buckles his hips as you take him into your mouth. He wants the best of both worlds but it feels so good his head just becomes a blabbering mess. He is a messy eater, he leaves your thighs sticky with his spit and your slick, and don't get me started on how he will beg to cum on your face. You know you are in for a long ride when he gives you those puppy eyes and says: "Can you sit on my face, please?"

TOJI FUSHIGURO + DOGGY; You saw that coming, I know. He is rough, that's common knowledge. Toji grips your hips and drags you back into his big, fat cock as if he had something against you. He slaps your ass and thighs, even your back if he feels like it. He yanks your hair and says the most foul things. "If you could look at yourself— such a slut for my dick," Which... might be true. He doesn't stop until your pussy is overstimulated and filled with his cum, until your hands give up and he has to hook an arm under your stomach to pull you back up, obviously giving you a hard slap so you remember where you are and what you should be doing. One thing is for sure, he will cum inside every single time.

SUKUNA + COWGIRL; He is a greedy bitch. He wants you to do all the work until you can't no more and he will complain nonstop. He is also the type to slap your ass and thighs, even your face if you stop bouncing on his dick. "Come on, you can do more than that," He laughs, rolling his eyes and leaning down to suck on your nipples. His teeth graze the swollen nub, and he bites down, watching you squirm and feeling your pussy squeeze his cock. "Such a lazy slut, you wanted it so bad, and now you are disappointing me," It comes to a point where he knows it's his turn. He bends his knees and holds your hips, lifting them and fucking you so hard, all you can do is moan and choke on your own words. "Now I have to do all the fucking job, but what's new?"

𓆩⟡𓆪 English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistakes.

#𓆩⟡𓆪 anya writes!#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader smut #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader smut #choso x reader #choso smut #choso x reader smut #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader smut

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pretty-little-mind33 · 1 year ago

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James Potter x slytherin!fem!reader

Summary: When your "friends" play a dangerously stupid prank on you, James is the last person you'd think would help you.

Genre: Fluff, hurt and comfort <3

Warning: swearing, mentions of being drugged/drunk, violence, mentions of blood, protective!James

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

When James sees you walk into the classroom with an unusually cheery smile, he can't look away.

"Sirius," he pauses and leans in closer to his friend, "does she look unwell to you?" James whispers, clearly concerned for you. Sirius lets his chin rest on his palms as he looks over at you nonchalantly.

You almost trip on your shoe-laces as you make your way to your desk and you laugh a little too loudly, but only James seems to notice that particular detail.

"Y/l/n? She seems quite happy to me," Sirius's smirk is heard in his voice but James doesn't look amused.

"No, something's wrong. She's usually quiet and she," he doesn't finish his sentence when he sees your friends in the corner of the classroom.

Some of them look as concerned as he is while most hide smiles and snickers behind their hands as they look at you. James's eyes bounce back to you and his frown deepens. Something is wrong. Instantly, he's on his feet.

"Prongs!?" Sirius sounds surprised but it's no use trying to stop him because James is already on his way to you.

Just as you raise your arm to run a hand in your – already annoyed – desk partner's hair, James quickly swoops in and catches your wrist. You pause and when you turn your head to look at him, your smile widens.

"Potter!" you slur.

James can be an idiot sometimes, but he does know you're not drunk. He's never seen you drink. You look dizzy and he comes to the conclusion you must be under the influence of some kind of spell. He looks you over and sees the nasty cut on your knee. Anger bubbles in his stomach as he remembers how your friends somehow found this all incredibly funny.

You tilt your head at him slightly and say, "You have pretty eyes, did you know that?" you smile a smile James usually loves and was never directed at him before, but by now the entire classroom has their eyes on you and, because he knows you would hate all this unnecessary attention, James helps you stand.

You let out a breathy giggle when his hands find your waist and hold you steady.

"What are you doing?" a shrill voice asks from behind him and James clenches his jaw. He turns around. It's one of your friends. She's also in Slytherin and as hard as he tries, James can't remember her name.

"Helping your friend," he says blankly, "She seems a little out of it, doesn't she?"

"She's fine," your friend rolls her and tucks her dark hair behind her ear. "Aren't you, Y/n?" she asks you with a faint smirk.

Your body sways and James's arms move from your waist and swoops around you to hold under your armpits. "I'm okay — y-yeah, I'm okay. I feel better than fine," You mutter, eyelids fluttering slightly as you giggle at his touch.

James isn't at all convinced you're okay.

Your friend's cruel smirk and the mystery of how you've bruised your knee leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

"She's bleeding," he states as calmly as he can.

"She's just clumsy."

"She's obviously been hexed or something," James narrows his eyes.

Your friend laughs at his accusatory tone. "What? And you think I did it?"

"Yeah, actually, I do."

At this point, it's obvious you aren't paying attention to their argument as you start to play with James's collar. His cheeks flush pink as your hair skims his chin and the smell of your shampoo fills the air.

"Well if you won't tell me what happened to her, then I'll find out myself," he says and his hand moves to hold yours. "Come on," he whispers sweetly and you let him lead you out of the classroom.

James is extremely careful with you. He makes sure you don't trip in the hallway, or run into any doors and walls, and more importantly he stays with you when the nurse comes to make sure you're okay.

He leans over the hospital bed as his hand hover over your knee as he asks, "What's happened to her?"

"Veritaserum," the nurse says as she presses her palm on your forehead.

"The truth serum?" James is confused. "Doesn't that make someone tell the truth? Why would it make her act so," he turns his head to look at you and conflicting emotions creates what feels like an empty pit in his stomach. You look so beautiful with your eyes blown wide as you glance around the room. "So ditzy?" he finishes in an endeared whisper.

"It isn't uncommon as everyone can have different reactions," The nurse explains as she gently inspects your knee, "I think whoever made this potion must not be particularly skilled."

James clenches his fist around his cloak and tries to remind himself that you probably wouldn't want him to beat up your so-called-friends.

"What's happening to me?" your voice comes out strained as you try and focus on their conversation as you catch on to their confused faces.

"Nothing, honey, you're fine. Your friend was worried and he,"

You interrupt her, "James Potter? Oh, he isn't my friend." You look up at James and his smile disappears. He's embarrassed as he searches your face for any indication that you're joking but clearly you aren't because you ask him. "Potter, do you even know my name?" You sound serious.

James hesitates to answer, "Of course I know your name, Y/n," he finally admits.

He doesn't expect your eyes to light up but they do and you turn to the nurse, "He does know my name," you whisper with a smile.

James's heart swells at how happy you seem and he smirks a little. Amused, the nurse lets you continue, "You'know," you lean in closer and mutter just loud enough for James to hear without you knowing, "I really like him."

Surprised, his heart jumps and the nurse panics as he quickly shuts you up. "Alright honey, let's clean up this nasty little wound and then wait for the potion to pass, ok?" you nod and focus on her as she waves her wand across your knee and the cut disappears.

Once she's done, the nurse turns to James and says, "I know you must be curious, Potter, but I think Y/l/n should be alone while she recovers," the nurse turns to you again and looks at you sympathetically.

"He can stay!" you insist, "I want him to stay."

James looks into your eyes and he wonders how he can even think of disappointing you.

But, when he looks at the nurse again his heart sinks. He can't stay, he knows he can't. It would be unfair. You deserve to keep your secrets — all those feelings you wouldn't share with him normally — hidden away in your pretty little head.

James knows he can't take those away from you so he nods, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and sends you a lopsided smile. "I'll see you around, mmh?"

He leaves before he can focus on the way you called his name because if he does, he knows he'd feel compelled to rush back in and stay by your side. On his way back to the classroom, he can't help but smile as he remembers your words. Only, his smile disappears the moment he hears your friends in the hallway.

James stops in front of them and they do the same. The girl from earlier crosses her arms. "What's your issue, Potter?" she snarls, "Where's Y/n?"

James refuses to answer her question. "You gave her the Veritaserum, didn't you?" he accuses and some of your friend's squirm guiltily. The dark-haired girl just smirks.

"So what if we did? She isn't dying, is she? It was funny," she turns to your other friends with a grin and they nod meekly. "You should have seen her stumbling around, she wasn't even fazed when she fell and scraped her knee on the cobblestones. It was hilarious," she continues.

James's face burns from the points of his ears to his cheeks. "Hilarious?!" he repeats, his voice stern, "What kind of friends find it funny when their friend hurts themselves? She didn't know about the Veritaserum, did she?"

The girl shakes her head but one of your other friends interrupts. He's a tall, lanky Slytherin with icy blue eyes and vibrant auburn hair.

"Of course she didn't know, Potter. It wouldn't be as fun if she did. I would think you would understand," he admits with a grin.

James's hands shake as he stares at your friend rambling. The boy only chuckles and turns to his friends, amused, as he taunts, "Slipped the potion in her drink myself this morning."

He doesn't finish his sentence as James punches him. He stumbles back into the girls, cupping his hands around his nose, as they shriek in surprise. James shakes his hand out a little and narrows his eyes. "You don't spike someone's drink, asshole. And don't fucking insinuate I would ever do something like that to anyone!"

"What the fuck? Why do you even care?" The boy hisses as one girl holds his shoulder and tends to him. "You're crazy."

And sure, maybe James was crazy but he won't tolerate someone hurting you.

Ever.

* * *

"James, just give the poor girl some space," Remus sighs as he tries to concentrate on his essay. "She's gone through enough these last few days. Haven't you heard the rumors going around? They're brutal."

James resists the scream that bubbles in his throat. "I know. I know. I just want to be there for her," he whines and Sirius wraps his arm around his shoulder.

"You'll just make things worse," Sirius says, "Last rumor I heard is that she faked it all for your attention."

James clenches his jaw. "How would I make this worse? It's all so fucking cruel, Pads. She's all alone," his heart has been slowly breaking whenever he thinks of you sobbing in your dorm or sitting alone during your classes and meals.

He shuts his eyes a moment and then sits up abruptly and says, "I know what to do."

Remus looks up and with a worried expression, his eyes widen. "Prongs," he starts but James is already standing. "Sirius! Don't let him leave!" Remus insists but it's too late because their friend is already out the Common Room door.

When James enters the Great Hall, he pauses and searches for you. He sees you sitting alone and he becomes so angry he can't think normally.

He storms up to the Slytherin table and jumps on top of it. Some cutlery and food falls to the floor and students turn their heads. James just clears his throat, making a show as he stumbles on his feet.

If everyone wants to gossip about something, they can gossip about this.

With a grin, he spreads his arms and shouts, "Can I have everyone's attention?" The Great Hall turns silent and James struts down the table until he's much closer to you. You feel your cheeks heat up and you hold your breath.

Remus and Sirius run into the Great Hall, calling James's name but it's too late because James is now standing in front of you as he holds out his hand. "Y/n, will you go out with me?" He asks, his voice loud and calm.

Whispers break out as your heart thumps in your chest. You look into James's eyes, searching them and when you reluctantly take his hand he nods a little and pulls you up onto the table with him.

Quickly, he pulls you closer and then whispers in your ear, "Say no. Trust me."

Your frown deepens but the words leave you without thinking, "No?"

James smirks and just subtle enough for no one to see, he kisses your cheek and pulls you away from him. Dramatically, he stumbles backwards and covers his heart. "Ow, you're killing me here, love. What will I do without you?"

If you didn't know he had just asked you to reject him, you would think he sounds genuinely hurt. As he stumbles, he trips on someone's glass and with a loud crash, he falls to the ground.

Students gasp loudly and so do you as you cover your mouth with your hands and rush to the edge of the table and peer down at him. When you see him sitting on the ground he suddenly blows a kiss up to you, a small paper bird flutters up to you and then turns into rose petals.

Your eyes widen and you can't help but laugh when James continues to make a scene and the petals fall in your hair. "You're breaking my heart, darling. Criminal," James whispers and winks dramatically.

"James Potter, detention. Now," McGonagall's voice booms and when James sees you hide a smile behind your hand, he smiles too.

A while later, as James sweeps up McGonagall's classroom floor, all he can think of is your happy smile.

"James?" Your voice interrupts his memory and he jumps a little, turning towards the door. You stand in the doorway, a flustered look on your face as you hesitate to come inside. James drops the broom and rushes over to you.

His knuckles hover over your cheek as he says, "Y/n, are you okay?"

Your eyes widen and you touch his hand. Gently, you pull it down to his side again as you whisper and ask, "What was that all about?"

James searches your face for anger. "I wanted to take the embarrassment off of you. You don't deserve anything that's been happening to you, love. None of it is your fault."

You look at him more seriously. "Yeah, it's been a little hard but I can handle the teasing. You shouldn't have done that," you say and James's heart clenches in his chest.

"I'm sorry if I upset you, Y/n. I just wanted,"

You interrupt him, "No. I mean you shouldn't have asked me to say no," you pause and look up at him, "unless, you don't actually want to go out with me. But, I know you know how I feel about you and I,"

Your sentence dies and you don't know what else to say.

James's expression softens. You look up at him, almost pleading with him, "Please don't make me repeat what I said in the Hospital Wing. It's so embarrassing, and I know you heard me. I wasn't exactly quiet."

James smirks. "When you said you like me?" he holds up his finger and pretends to ponder, "No I'm sorry, you really like me," his smile widens as he looks at you. You feel warmth in your cheeks and look away.

"Yeah, that."

"Well, I really like you too."

Your eyes widen and you look up at him. James uses his thumb to lift your chin. You realize how close your body is to his and your breath hitches in your throat. James's hand moves to your cheek, caressing it softly as you whisper, "You do?"

James lets out a breathy chuckle. "Of course I do. You're beautiful, kind, incredibly smart it's annoying," his eyes are full of admiration, "What's there not to like, darlin'?"

You frown, glancing quickly at the emblem stitched onto my robes and then you look at him again. "But, I'm a Slytherin. I didn't even think you ever knew who I was until last week. We've never really talked."

James's smile falters and his thumb moves behind your ear as he holds your cheek. "That's my fault. I should have said something sooner but with my reputation and all," he looks away, his face twisted in shame, "I didn't want to scare you away."

You see the sincerity in his eyes but ask wearily, "So it doesn't bother you?"

"That you're in Slytherin?" James smiles a little. "No, it doesn't, love. I don't care. I've seen how you are and I think you're absolutely lovely," he catches himself, "I mean, I'm not saying Slytherin's aren't lovely,"

You shut him up with a kiss. It's confident and startling but James doesn't complain. He simply pulls you in closer and lets his mouth explore yours with a passion he didn't know he had. He didn't know how starved he was of your taste until now.

Fuck, he's fucked.

You pull away, lips wet and stare at him. "Sorry," you mutter.

"Sorry?" James frowns and leans in to kiss you again, "Don't you dare be sorry. Just kiss me," his words leave you a mush in his arms and you're happy for his hand around your back because otherwise you would fall over.

When he finally disconnects your lips, he leans his forehead on yours and whispers what he'd been thinking, "You'll kill me, love."

You smile and hold his arm. "Thanks for saving me by the way, when I was under the potion," you say.

James leans away and studies your soft expression with a small smile. "I'd be an asshole not to help you. I didn't want to see you get hurt."

"Still, if you hadn't seen that something was wrong I don't know what would have happened."

"Nothing would have happened because I was there," James insists and kisses your forehead, "I'll always be there." He adds in a whisper into your hair.

It's only for him to hear. He doesn't want to just tell you he's there for you, instead he wants to show you. Everyday.

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pseudowho · 2 months ago

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"Why are we going to a scare trail, when you scream if a pan falls out of the cupboard?"

Kento grumbled, cosy in his cream turtleneck and teal overcoat. You preened, pressing the lids onto your travel mugs, and leaning up to nuzzle the shell of his ear.

"Because it's fun, you grumpy old goat. Come on. I need protection."

"You need sectioning, perhaps," Kento scoffed, opening the car door for you, "or the public needs protection from you." Kento shifted into gear, reversing with his arm behind your seat. You stroked a hand over his thigh.

"Well, you can be my supervisor then...sir."

Kento coughed, stalling the car at the turn, and grasping your hand with a warning glare.

"Don't. You know what that does to me."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Clearly, the gates of hell had been opened into the other end of the Funfair. The screams were not ones of delight.

But, at the entrance, autumn leafcrunch and early chill, swirled with wood fires and yakitori and street food, spicing the crowds with orange and gold. You tucked your arm into Kento's, as if an old married couple, and squelched through the mud to your destination.

Kento grimaced up at the entrance, opening his mouth to speak, before you interrupted.

"I heard they used pig's blood. Not fake blood."

"That is grotesquely unsanitary--"

"--come on, let's queue up--"

"--I should report them to the Health and Safety executives--"

"Shhh, sh sh sh, come on now...there. Lovely."

Bouncing on your tiptoes in the queue, Kento shot you a wary sideways glance, speaking slowly, testing every word.

"I...am perfectly serious, though. You don't usually tolerate frights like this very well. Despite your profession. Always something I found...odd."

You sighed, shrugging. "Just...an overactive imagination, I think. There's something thrilling about being scared but safe. A luxury that work doesn't give us."

Kento was quiet, looking pensively into the Horror Maze, while you allowed a zombie bride to scan your entry passes. "Yes...that makes sense."

Kento was absolutely right, as you headed in. Within minutes, you were rendered useless, in a maze of bloodstained walls and cells-- some crude, tasteless attempt at an insane asylum.

And Kento remained...utterly unshaken. Not a hair out of place. Not even a flinch. Just his usual flat boredom, and irritated rumbles.

'Patients', 'doctors', 'nurses' and 'orderlies' in various states of grisly disrepair, chased you through corridors, backed you into cells, and rattled bars at you until you clung to Kento like a baby monkey.

Neither of you noticed how one of the doctors you passed turned to look at your retreating backs, tufts of fuzzy peach hair peeking out from under his surgical cap and goggles.

"Does nothing scare you?!" You demanded of Kento, squealing like a little girl as a 'doctor' tried to strap you to his table. Lifting you to safety by your waist, and tutting at the perturbed 'doctor', who sagged, put-out, Kento replied, solemn.

"Perhaps my fears are a little more abstract." You almost laughed as an approaching 'nurse' cringed away at Kento's devastatingly withering look.

It was only when you were both chased through a corridor by a horde of screaming visitors and 'patients', that you and Kento became separated. Your adrenaline felt less fun with Kento's absence, and you backed against a black curtain, your heart pumping rapidly souring blood to your limbs.

"Kento!" You called, your voice pitched and rising, "Kent--ooooooh!"

You were yanked back through the black curtain, your sobs muffled beneath a thick brown glove, and your assailant was quick to reassure you. He lifted his goggles and lowered his mask to grin at you, sweet and sunny.

"Hey! Mrs.Nanamin! It's just me."

You melted with relief, sniffling, "Oh my god-- Yuuji-- what are you doing here--"

"Ahhh, just tryna earn some extra cash. I saw where Nanamin went, want to go catch u--"

"No! Wait...Yuuji. Help me scare him."

Yuuji faltered, blinking. "What? Scare Nanamin?" Yuuji pondered, pinching his chin in thought. Eventually, he shook his head, smirking. "Nah. Nothing scares him."

You puffed your cheeks out, shaking your head. Peeking out from behind the curtain and surveying the carnage the actors wreaked upon the screaming visitors, you shook your head.

"Nope. I insist. Let's scare my husband. We'll find something-- anything."

And so, at your insistence, you and Yuuji staggered through a montage of terrific failures.

You locked Kento in a dark room, and he only hummed in minor irritation as a hissing, ragged contortionist spidered out of an impossibly tight chest. He kicked the door open, and held it open for the bewildered contortionist to leave first; "After you."

Yuuji manipulated Kento down a corridor with naught but increasingly unsettling nursery rhymes and crayon monstrosities on the walls. Kento found the radio, switched it off, and gave the crayon-marked wallpaper a despairing side-eye. He tried to scratch some crayon off, grimacing in dismay.

You encouraged a 'nurse' to spill a bag of 'blood' over Kento; he performed exquisite manoeuvres to save his coat, before sternly berating her-- "I'd rather not explain that to the dry cleaners, thank you."

Eventually, leaning back on a rickety wooden railing on a platform above the exit, you and Yuuji admitted defeat. Yuuji rubbed your shoulder in sweet conciliation.

"I told you," Yuuji sighed, as if you didn't already know, "Nanamin just isn't scared of anything."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I just--"

The crack of the rail breaking behind you and Yuuji pierced the night, and you plummeted to the ground below, the air punching out of your lungs. Coughing, groaning, and dazed, you barely registered Kento calling your name, and calling your name, and CALLING YOUR NAME--

"--shit--" Kento swore, pale, and checking your head, and your eyes, and your body, and your eyes, and cupping your cheeks and surveying you for hurt or damage or injury, "--shit, are you hurt? Say something-- say something--"

You coughed, flapping a hand, saved by your Cursed Energy. "Fine, Kento, I'm fine--"

"-- jesus christ...you scared me."

You blinked up at him, feeling like the worst wife in the world. "I...scared you?"

Kento wasn't listening, still feeling your body all over in pale concentration. Yuuji sat up beside you, watching from beneath his goggles, cap and mask. He opened his mouth to speak, and Kento did not look up, but raised a single stern finger to point at him.

"Not a word, Itadori-kun. You scared me too."

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vapekingg · 6 months ago

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“You know I like my girls a little bit older.” — Your Love by The Outfield

February 14th, 1986

Eddie knows exactly how you want to spend your first Valentine’s Day together — in the back of his van with the windows steamed up.

A takeout pizza sits half-eaten and torn apart in the box near a makeshift pallet that you’ve gotten somewhat used to over the past few months. A single floodlight that shines into the front windshield is the only light, and it’s just enough. Just enough to cast Eddie in this dim orange-gold glow that shimmers off of the sweat dripping down his stomach.

He always gets worked over pretty quickly when you’re on top, and tonight you needed it. That control, that stress relief.

You’d told your boss at the record shop that Valentine’s Day would be a banger. It has been since you’d started there at sixteen. But what would you know? He’d scheduled you open to close, all by yourself, no question as to whether or not you might want to spend today with your boyfriend.

“Motherfucker,” Eddie’s moan wavers as his head lulls back against the inner wall of his van.

He’s all soft when it’s like this. All praise and devotion. Eddie’s palms swirl around the globes of your ass gently as you lift your hips up and down. He’s holding you close, your beasts against the warmth of his chest, your clit grinding against the coarse hair beneath his waist, his little grunts and cries and whimpers dying along the column of your throat. They inch up your neck and tickle your ear, urging you to keep going despite the burn in your thighs.

“It’s okay, baby. Just take what you need,” Eddie says between labored breaths when he notices the tremble in your hips.

But what you need is him deeper.

You adjust yourself above him, leaning back on your palms so that he slips further inside of you, the base of his cock widening to stretch you open.

There it is.

“Fuck!” You rasp, your hips jerking forward from sudden sensitivity.

Every rut drives you closer to the edge. Every stroke drags the veins of his thick cock against the walls of your dripping cunt. Sweat slicked palms trace up the curve of your thighs to keep you balanced while you ride, and each inch of your skin grazed is ignited like wildfire.

“That’s it, angel. Look at you,” he grits between clenched teeth. “Thought about this all fucking day…”

It must be killing him, holding back like this.

If it were up to him — and it usually is — you would be bent over the front seat right now. You wouldn’t know your own goddamn name, let alone care.

But you like how he looks when he lets you take control. His eyes half lidded and mouth slightly parted, sweat clinging to the hair framing his pretty face. It made the trembling thighs worth it.

“Did you?” You ask him, not caring so much if he responds but knowing that Eddie just likes to hear you when he’s like this.

“Ffffuck, yeah I did…” he moans, his grip tightening on your hips.

Another rut of your hips and his upward thrust meets yours.

"Eddie—" You cry out.

But he doesn't stop. With every stroke of your waist against his, Eddie is there to meet your ministrations. He's watching you. You can feel his eyes tracing over your flesh even with yours closed. The bounce of your breasts, the ripple of your pillowy stomach, Eddie takes in it all.

"That's right. Say my name, baby." The pink of his tongue lashes out to dart over his thumb before he drags the digit down your center.

The second he starts — the quick, gentle motion of his thumb soon growing frantic — it's the beginning of the end.

The swollen tip of his cock nudges its way to that spot deep inside of you that shuts your brain right off. Only he knows how to find it, and he's so fucking good at finding it. Once there, a salacious grin spreads across Eddie's face.

"Right fucking there, baby." He praises you, hands heavy on your hips, weighing you down so you can't move.

You're stuffed full of him, spread open around his thick length and dripping down the base. The receptors in your brain are firing at all cylinders and you've never felt this fucking euphoric before.

Until he grinds up into you.

Your orgasm hits you all at once, without warning. It washes over your entirety and has you begging him for both more and less simultaneously. And Eddie has never been one to give you less.

He feeds you his cock, thrusting up into your sopping cunt now, the van around you shaking in time with your depravity. It's all happening in passing, at the very back of your mind. All you can focus on is the constellations exploding in your vision as Eddie's pathetic little grunts morph into wanton moans of satisfaction.

A few spent moments later, you can feel your joint release leaking out of you. Eddie lays back on the floor of his van with his hands above his head, skin shimmering with the reflection of drying sweat off of yellow floodlights.

It truly is the perfect Valentine's Day. Now that you can think clearly, maybe your shift wasn't all that bad.

With his eyes still closed, Eddie reaches for the joint he'd left in his pants pocket for safekeeping. He lights it while on his back and takes two deep hits before passing it to you. The radio near the back door plays quietly in the background. You don't know what song is on. Boss had you playing Hounds of Love by Kate Bush all day on repeat.

But Eddie seems to know the tune.

He jerks up in his seat, hand wrapping quickly behind your back so that you aren't knocked off of him.

"Hey!" You shout, trying to keep the ruby red tip of the joint away from his beautiful hair.

"Shush," he slaps the volume dial on the radio, knocking it up more than enough notches. "This song is about us!"

Josie's on a vacation far away, come around and talk it over. So many things that I wanna say.

Eddie strums an air guitar behind your back and his eyes pop open wide as he sing-screams the next lyrics.

"YOU KNOW I LIKE MY GIRLS A LITTLE BIT OLDER!"

Your eyes roll back as you exhale the smoke from your lungs.

He'll never let those six months you were alive before him go.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #my writing #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine

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cloudzoro · 6 months ago

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Other than the bed | One Piece ♡

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Their favourite place to fuck you other than the bed.

masterlist

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characters: ace, law, nami, robin, sanji, tashigi, zoro

genre: smut (minors dni)

cw: fem!reader, unprotected sex, hair pulling (nami), public sex, almost getting caught, I kind of ate with sanji's 🤤

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Ace - Kitchen counter

The kitchen is where Ace often finds his two fave things: food and you. He can hear people coming, but it's just open enough that you could get caught if you have guests over. Ace's absolute favourite time to prop you up on the counter and fuck your brains out is in the morning when you're making breakfast.

“you have no idea what you do to me”, he groans as he pushes his cock into you. With your tits in his face, he leans in to press kisses to your chest. “So pretty,” he groans.

Hearing you moan his name spurs him on to rut his hips faster. The smacking of his hips against yours echoes through the kitchen.

Your thighs start to shake as you're close. Ace notices immediately, pulling his cock out of your dripping pussy, making you whine.

“I got you, baby. Just let me turn you around,” he says, pulling you to stand and turning you around to bend you over the counter surface. He gets a grip on your hair and thrusts his cock back into you. It doesn't take long for you to cum, body shaking in Ace's arms as he fucks you through your orgasm. The pulsing of your cunt draws an orgasm from him too.

Once you're both finished and calm, you remember the breakfast cooking a few feet away and push Ace away from you, scolding him for distracting you.

Law - Sofa

Law doesn't get to relax very often, so when you both settle down on the sofa, it doesn't take long before he's pulling onto his lap and asking you to ride him. He loves to lean back and watch you work.

“That's it, baby,” he says, voice gruff and low. His tattooed hands grip your hips to subtly guide you as you bounce on his cock. Once you get a steady pace going, he relaxes back into the sofa cushions and watches you. “You're so beautiful, y'know that?”

Law's cock feels so good inside you and it overwhelms you. An ache starts to build in your thighs, and your pace begins to falter. You hear Law click his tongue and his hands grip you even tighter.

“Do I have to do everything around here?” he asks as he lifts you slightly and readjusts you so you're on your back against the sofa cushions. He holds the back of your thigh, pushing your knees up to your chest and begins to pound into you. His thick cock dragging against your walls has you writhing in his grip. “you gonna cum for me?” he asks, knowing you're close. “good, just let go for me.”

Nami - The floor

Sometimes, Nami doesn't have the patience to make it to the bed. After a night out drinking, you both return to your home together. As soon as you close the front door, she's on you. Nami drags you to the living room and pushes you down on the floor, reattaching her lips to yours

“I need you so fucking bad”, she whines. She straddles your lap, and you help her remove her shirt. She hums in satisfaction as your tongue traces over her soft skin. You leave a few kisses on her smooth skin, but this isn't enough for you. You crave the taste of her.

“Sit on my face,” you say, laying back down, and Nami is more than happy to oblige. She removes the rest of her outfit before settling over your face. You grip her thighs, pulling her down so you don't have to strain as your tongue licks over her perfect pussy. You can barely hear her gasps and moans over how wet she is.

“Baby, I'm gonna cum”, she moans as she begins to rock her hips slightly, basically riding your face. You keep going, licking and sucking at her pussy as she shakes above you. She all but floods your face as she cums, screaming your name.

Robin - Against the wall

Sex is the perfect time for Robin to flex her powers. You like testing her patience - she has a lot of it. She lifts you against the wall in the living room, hands coming to pin your wrists against the surface and even one holding your hair so you can't look away from where she drops to her knees and spreads your legs.

She slips two fingers into your pussy, looking up at you as she sections her mouth around your clit. You can see the amused expression on her face as she practically devours you. There's something about holding you up against the wall that gives her a power trip she can't describe.

She continues to work her tongue against you as you clench around her fingers. She's unbelievably good with her hands, and it works you up in no time. She has you arching away from the wall as you cum. She continues licking you through your high, moaning into your pulsing cunt.

When you're done, she pulls her fingers out and sucks them clean, not breaking eye contact with you. She pulls herself back up to her feet and leans into your ear.

“You stay here like a good girl while I go get the strap”, she saunters off to the bedroom, leaving you suspended against the wall.

Sanji - Dining table

Sanji's usually a traditionalist and prefers to fuck you in bed, but sometimes he can be persuaded otherwise. When you flip the script and make him an anniversary dinner as a thank you for all the meals he's made for you over the years, he can't help himself. Once he's done with his meal, he lifts you and lays you down on the dining table with a smile.

“That was perfect, my love. Let me show you how grateful I am,” he says, helping you get your dress off. You've fed him and loved him; he'll be damned if you so much as lift a finger for the rest of the day. Once you're naked, he pulls his cock out, sliding it between your soaked folds, making you whine. “I got you, sweetheart. Don't you worry,” he says, pushing his cock into your hole. He knows as soon as he's fully buried in your sweet pussy he loses his mind, but he tries to keep a grip on his sanity as he bottoms out.

Sanji showers you in praise as he stills, letting you adjust to his size. He admires the way you, his goddess, look moaning on his cock and decides he must be the luckiest man on earth. He starts to thrust his hips, whining and moaning as much as you. You feel so good it drives him up the wall insane. He tells you as such, making sure you know how much he loves being wrapped in your tight wet heat.

“Sanji, please. I'm so close. Please fuck me harder,” you moan, and he almost cums on the spot after hearing you beg for him. He's never denied you of anything, and he's not going to start now. He pulls you up so you're chest to chest and ruts his hips harder.

He watches in complete awe of you as you unravel in his arms. He makes sure to burn the image of your body shaking against the table into his memory. He's held off surprisingly well, considering his usual track record of busting as soon as you make eye contact with him. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, and he finally lets go, filling you up with his cum.

“Happy anniversary, baby”, he mumbles against your lips.

Tashigi - Office

Tashigi is usually a good girl but she discovers, pretty soon after dating you, that she has a thing for being caught. She claims you're a bad influence on her, but she's been having fantasies like this long before you guys started dating.

She's a well-behaved subordinate, but when you convince her to sneak into Smoker's office, she goes along with it because she's too horny to think clearly.

She knows he's out and won't be back until the evening. He's left her in charge, but she's still nervous about being caught by her boss of all people.

“‘Shigi”, you call, already perched on the large desk with your legs spread. She groans loudly at the sight and locks the door before approaching you. She pulls you into a desperate kiss, pushing her tongue in her mouth as she tugs your trousers down. She pats around to find the bag you dumped on the desk beside you. She pulls out the strap on and slides the harness on. You're patient enough to wait until she's tightened it properly to pull her as close to you as possible. “Please fuck me on your boss's desk”, you moan, and she wastes no time spitting on the strap and pushing it into your pussy.

“This what you want, baby?” she asks, not holding back. She's usually so uptight, and you love it when she lets loose with you. She's dedicated to fucking you down into the surface of the desk. It doesn't even cross her mind that she could be caught until she hears footsteps outside the door. She knows they're not Smoker, so she keeps going, continuing to wreck your pussy as there's a knock on the door. She doesn't answer the door, instead covering your mouth with her hand and fucking you through your first orgasm of the day.

“you're so bad, convincing me to do this here”, she growls in your ear once the knocking ceases.

Zoro - Crow's nest

The crows’ nest is outside. The chance of getting caught up there is pretty high, but Zoro doesn't care about getting caught. It doesn't even turn him on; he just doesn't give a fuck if anyone catches him fucking his girl good. He likes it when you join him for his night watch shift. You've spent many nights together in your own little world.

You throw your leg over him so you're straddling him. You kiss his neck as you grind down in his lap, and he wraps his arms around your body to help guide you. He gives a quick look around before returning his attention to you. He grabs the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss. His kiss is firm, but there's a softer meaning behind it. You and Zoro don't need words to know how you feel about each other.

Zoro instructs you to remove your pyjama shorts as he pulls his cock free from his trousers. You reposition yourself and sink down onto his cock. He's huge, so it takes you a few minutes to adjust. He presses kisses to your neck and shoulders as you get used to the way his thick cock stretches you out. Your whimpers boost his ego.

“You gonna move for me, baby? Gonna ride me?” he asks, grinning at you as you begin to bounce on his cock. Zoro allows himself to get lost in how you feel; it's just the two of you and the moonlight and, for once, he feels at peace. Your body takes him to a new plane of existence as you ease into a rhythm that has both of your seeing stars.

“Zoro-” you whine. You want to tell him how good his cock feels inside of you, but you're not sure you can get the words out correctly.

“I know baby, I know”, he groans, planting his feet so he can fuck up into you. You can barely meet his thrusts as you get closer and closer to cumming. “gonna cum baby, gonna fill you up”, he all but growls as he reaches a hand between you to rub at your clit.

It doesn't take long at all for you to cum, a cry of his name leaving your mouth as your body tenses above him. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he follows, filling you up with his cum like he promised. He helps you get dressed again and readjusts against the side of the crows’ nest.

“Close your eyes for a bit. I'm not going anywhere.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

thank you for reading!!! likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

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cherryredstars · 1 year ago

Note

omg hold on i love you so much i hope you are well. so i was sleeping peacefully in my bed today and suddenly this came to mind and i found myself on the floor.

it doesn't necessarily have to be sub Miguel, but i NEED NEED NEED a reader who has a sex stamina higher than burj khalifa. so miguel gets frustrated and overstimulated by the time its over, whining and trying to push her off of his lap type of shit because its his 4th or 5th orgasm. BUT HE WON'T, YKNOW WHY? BECAUSE HE IS HORRNY. BECAUSE ITS SEX AND IT IS GOOD SEX LIKE GAD DAYMMM

thank you

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Overstimulation, Creampie, A Second of Fingering

Summary: Who is he to deny good sex?

Word Count: 725 (Not Edited)

He doesn’t know how much more he can take.

He’s surprised that he can even cum still. You’ve been at this for hours, greedily milking his cock and mewling at him. It’s fucking amazing. It’s like some shit his teenage mind would jerk off too. Some bizarre porn video concept. Except, this is real and he’s more of a mess than he thought he would be.

He started out on top, fucking your desperate pussy until tears flowed from your eyes. He has the scratch marks on his back to prove it, raised and red. But after his second orgasm and your fourth, you still wanted more. But he was so tired, deeply satisfied as cock almost went numb from pleasure. But you looked so sad, giving him that cute little pout that he can never say no to. So, to summarize, his own weakness is to blame for his current situation.

You’re desperately bouncing on his cock, no signs of slowing down. He’s flat on his back, moaning and groaning as he tries to get a steady grip on your hips. His cock is on fire, overstimulated and tired. It’s creamy with your combined cum, making loud squelches everytime you impale yourself on his dick. You won’t shut up, mouth dropped open as you scream and moan. Miguel is approaching his fifth orgasm, and he doesn’t know if there will be much cum left in him to fill you up with.

“Fuck, fuck, mi querida, let up. Gonna actually milk me dry if you don’t fucking stop.” Miguel whines, his hand moving to press on your stomach in a weak effort to push you off.

You shake your head and whimper, holding his hand there with both of your own. You use your hold as leverage, still moving up and down on him. Miguel moans out when he can feel where he makes your skin bulge, his orgasm rushing down his spine. You’re whimpering out ‘please’ over and over again, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you finish. He feels the way your walls flutter and squeeze around him, earning a dying groan from him as it triggers his own release.

His hips buck up weakly, spurting the very last drops of his cum into you. Both of you are panting, Miguel’s cock begging to be freed from your vice grip. You rotate your hips, softly mewling when his cock skims over your g-spot. Miguel protests as you work his cock, trying to hold your hips still to stop you.

You lean down and kiss him, that hungry look still in your eyes, “So, so good, Miggy. That felt real good.”

Miguel can only hum in agreement weakly, his head thrown back against the sheets as he tries to regain himself. He gasps as you get up, slowly removing yourself off his cock with a soft pop. Miguel’s cock is semi-hard when he hits his stomach, still coated with cum. He can feel it softening further, his cock throbbing from overuse.

Suddenly, you gasp loudly. It echoes off the walls, a sharp and unexpected noise. Miguel’s head shoots up to see if you’re hurt.

Miguel groans when he sees and feels what had you gasping. You’re still hovering over him, knees on either side of his hips. Cum fucking flows out of you, finally being able to escape your flooded hole. It’s white and thick, running down your thighs and forming a puddle under you. It splatters on Miguel’s skin, and his cock jumps and hardens at the sight. Miguel lets out a tired sigh, grabbing your hips and stuffing a finger into you. You cry out, face blissed out as he fucks the cum back into you.

“Fucking minx, you’re insatiable.” He grumbles, pulling his finger out and wiping it on the skin of your thigh.

You whimper, quickly turning it into a scream as he seats you back onto his raw cock. His cock stings, fighting in protest. His body is tired and he’s sure he only has dry orgasms left in him. But he doesn’t seem to care, especially when you instantly start riding him again. It feels good, so good. Real good. He falls back into his weakness again, whining and cursing.

He’s just a man after all, and what good man passes up on pornstar-level sex?

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julietsf1 · 8 days ago

Text

Holly Jolly Faking - Franco Colapinto x St.Mleux!Reader

summary: Two people who can’t stand each other agree to fake a relationship to avoid meddling friends and unwanted matchmaking during their Christmas weekend away. What could possibly go wrong? (8k words)

content: fake dating! reader is Alexandra's sister; Franco is COMMITTED;

AN: who doesn't love a good fake dating scenario? happy holidays sweeties!

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

Snow crunched beneath your boots as you trudged up the icy path leading to the chalet, Alexandra practically bouncing beside you. She clutched your arm, grinning as if dragging you along to a winter wonderland wasn’t her latest attempt at orchestrating your personal life.

“You’re going to love this,” she insisted, her voice carrying above the stillness of the snowy evening. “I don’t think you’ve ever been to a Friendmas like this one.”

You shot her a look. “Alex, you’ve been talking about this weekend non-stop. I know exactly what to expect.”

She huffed, playfully rolling her eyes. “Yes, but actually being here? It’s magic. Charles did such an amazing job with the tree. You have to see it!”

“Is that before or after you shove me into George’s arms?”

Her cheeks flushed, though whether from the cold or guilt, you couldn’t tell. “Oh, stop it. George is lovely. You could at least give him a chance.”

“Alex,” you said pointedly, pausing to adjust your scarf, “I’m here for you, Charles, and the snow. Not a setup.”

“Fine, fine.” She waved you off, though her mischievous grin lingered as she dragged you forward.

The chalet came into view, its A-frame design illuminated by strings of fairy lights draped over its sloped roof. Smoke curled from the chimney, and warm golden light spilled from the windows, giving it a postcard-perfect charm. It was gorgeous. You hated that Alexandra had been right about it being magical.

The door flew open before you even reached the steps, Charles Leclerc standing there with his signature grin. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and he wore a red sweater that made him look annoyingly festive.

“Finally!” he called out, spreading his arms as if to gather you both into a hug. “We thought you’d gotten lost in the snow.”

“Blame Y/N,” Alexandra said, releasing your arm to greet him. “She moves like a glacier.”

“Only because you packed half your wardrobe in the car,” you shot back, but Charles laughed, pulling you into a brief, warm hug.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N. Welcome to Friendmas!”

“Thanks,” you said, glancing past him into the chalet. Laughter and voices carried from inside, blending with the crackle of a fireplace.

“Come in, come in,” Charles urged, stepping aside. “Everyone’s excited to see you—Lando is even more energetic than usual.”

“Lovely,” you muttered as Alexandra pushed you through the door.

The interior was just as cozy and picturesque as the exterior promised. Pine garlands hung from the rafters, and a massive Christmas tree stood in one corner, decked out with ornaments and twinkling lights. The scent of fresh pine mingled with hints of cinnamon and something buttery, probably cookies.

A chorus of voices greeted you from the living room. Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri were sprawled across the couches, mid-conversation, while Carlos Sainz lounged nearby, sipping from a mug. Max Verstappen, wearing his signature Red Bull polo, leaned against the back of an armchair, holding what I can only suspect is a glühwein in his hands.

“Y/N!” Lando called out, bounding up from the couch like an overexcited puppy. “Finally! We need reinforcements.”

“For what?” you asked, setting your bag down near the stairs.

“To take down Max and Carlos,” Oscar explained, deadpan. “They’ve been dominating every game we’ve played since we got here.”

“It’s not domination,” Carlos corrected, grinning. “It’s skill.”

Max gave a barely perceptible nod of agreement.

“You mean cheating,” Lando muttered, earning a laugh from Oscar.

“Welcome to the madness,” Alexandra said, nudging you forward. “Get comfortable. There’s a lot, but it’s fun.”

“And I’m sure George will be thrilled to see you,” Charles added, his teasing tone making you bristle.

“Where is he?” Alexandra asked, glancing around.

“In the kitchen,” Carlos said. “Probably perfecting the whipped cream on his cocoa or something.”

“I heard that,” George Russell called out, appearing from the kitchen doorway. He carried two steaming mugs, his sweater perfectly fitted and his hair neatly combed, as always.

“Y/N, how wonderful to see you,” George said warmly, handing one mug to Alexandra.

“You too,” you replied, noting the subtle look Alexandra threw you. You shot her a glare in return.

And then, of course, Franco made his entrance.

He leaned against the fireplace, his green eyes glinting with amusement as he surveyed the scene. His tousled hair and casual stance gave him an air of effortless confidence, which only annoyed you further.

“Y/N,” Franco’s voice broke through the chatter, his tone slow and laced with mockery. “What a surprise. I didn’t think you’d make it. Busy schedule of glaring at people, I’m sure.”

“Franco,” you replied, deadpan, without so much as a glance in his direction.

The others continued their conversations, seemingly oblivious to the exchange, but Franco stepped closer, his smirk growing like he could sense your irritation.

“Still radiating warmth and goodwill, I see,” he quipped, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Still trying way too hard to be funny,” you shot back, finally turning to face him.

His grin widened. “Oh, come on. I’m hilarious, and you know it. People have been laughing all evening.”

“At you, maybe,” you replied smoothly.

The retort earned the faintest snicker from Lando in the background, but Franco remained unfazed. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if to keep the exchange just between you. “I’ve missed this, you know. You keeping me in check. Someone has to, I suppose.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you replied, your tone cutting. “Keeping you in check would imply you’re worth the effort.”

His smirk grew as he straightened, undeterred. “You’re quick today. Must be all that Christmas cheer getting to you.”

“Must be,” you deadpanned, narrowing your eyes.

For a moment, you stared each other down, his grin still annoyingly present as your pulse quickened in frustration. The way he looked at you, like he knew exactly how to push your buttons, made your skin prickle.

“Anything else, Franco?” you asked, your tone clipped.

“Not yet,” he replied smoothly. “But don’t go too far. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

With a final smirk, he leaned back against the counter, casually reaching for a glass like the conversation hadn’t just left you fuming. You turned back to the others, but the weight of his gaze lingered, prickling at the edge of your awareness.

…

The dining room buzzed with warmth and chatter, the glow of candles reflecting off plates piled high with roasted chicken, potatoes, and vegetables. Alexandra had gone all out, decorating the table with garlands of pine and gold-rimmed glasses, while Charles played the perfect host, ensuring everyone’s wine was topped off.

You were trying your best to enjoy the evening, but sitting between George and Franco wasn’t making that easy.

George, ever the gentleman, was pleasant enough, keeping the conversation light. He asked about your travels and your work, always attentive and polite, and while you appreciated his effort, the attention made you squirm. Alexandra, of course, wasn’t helping.

“So, Y/N,” Alexandra began, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “Isn’t it nice to have someone else here who knows Monaco as well as you do?”

You resisted the urge to sigh. “Sure, Alex. It’s always nice.”

George, ever gracious, smiled at you. “It’s been a while since I’ve spent a proper holiday there. There’s something special about it in the winter, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, forcing a polite smile of your own. “The harbor looks magical with all the lights.”

Alexandra pounced on your response like a cat with a mouse. “Exactly! George, doesn’t that sound like the perfect setting for a romantic evening?”

“Alex,” you warned, your voice laced with both amusement and irritation.

“What?” she asked innocently, though the twinkle in her eye gave her away. “I’m just saying. You two have so much in common. You could plan a trip back together!”

Your face burned, and you quickly took a sip of your wine to hide your discomfort. “I think George has plenty of plans that don’t involve me tagging along,” you said lightly.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind,” George said, his smile kind. “I reckon it would be nice to have someone to share the nostalgia with.”

Your smile wavered as you searched for a way to steer the conversation elsewhere, but Alexandra was relentless.

“See? It’s perfect!” she declared. “I mean, what are the chances? It’s practically fate.”

Your grip on your fork tightened. “I think that’s a bit of a stretch, Alex.”

Charles, ever the romantic, sighed wistfully. “Love often comes when you least expect it. Imagine walking along the harbor together, the lights reflecting on the water…”

You groaned, though you couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are we discussing this at the dinner table, guys?”

“Because it’s fun,” Lando chimed in, grinning. “So tell me, do you like horses? I know George adores posh shit like Polo.”

Your laughter faltered, your cheeks flushing as all eyes turned to you. The attention felt suffocating, and you fumbled for a response.

“Lando, that’s enough,” you said, your tone more strained than you intended.

“Oh, come on,” Alexandra added, her smile too wide. “You and George would make such a good match. It’s about time you found someone who—”

Franco coughed loudly, the deliberate sound slicing through the chatter. Everyone turned to him, their laughter and conversation abruptly halting. He leaned back in his chair, his green eyes glinting with mischief as he set his wineglass down with theatrical precision.

“She’s with me, actually,” Franco said casually, his voice ringing with the kind of confidence that demanded attention.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You froze, your fork clattering against your plate as your brain scrambled to make sense of what he’d just said. The warmth of the room seemed to vanish, replaced by a prickling heat crawling up your neck.

“What?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible.

Franco didn’t so much as flinch. He shifted slightly in his chair, and before you could react, he reached over, sliding his hand over yours where it rested on the table. His touch was warm, his grip firm but not forceful. You stared at him, wide-eyed, as his smirk widened.

“You heard me,” he said, his tone maddeningly smooth. “I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer.”

Alexandra’s jaw dropped, her wide-eyed gaze darting between the two of you. “You’re joking,” she said flatly.

“Not at all,” Franco replied, looking entirely unbothered. His fingers drummed lightly against the back of your hand, a silent challenge. “Isn’t that right, sugarplum?”

The word hung in the air like a ticking bomb. Your pulse thundered in your ears as every pair of eyes at the table turned to you.

Your throat felt dry, and your voice cracked when you finally managed to speak. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Oscar was the first to break. His laughter erupted like a tidal wave, loud and uncontrollable, as he nearly fell back in his chair. He clutched his stomach, tears streaming down his cheeks. “This… is… the best thing… I’ve ever heard!” he wheezed, struggling to catch his breath.

Lando wasn’t far behind, his wide grin splitting into a delighted laugh. “No way. You two?!”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” George said, his tone laced with disbelief.

Charles, however, looked positively enchanted. He leaned forward, his hands clasped together like a starstruck poet. “Love and hate are two sides of the same coin,” he declared, his eyes practically sparkling.

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, this is a twist.”

Max leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a skeptical look. “Ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, though the faint twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

Alexandra, however, wasn’t so easily convinced. She narrowed her eyes at you, her brows knitting together in confusion. “But… when? How? You’ve barely even mentioned Franco to me.”

“It has been a whirlwind,” Franco interjected smoothly, shooting you a sidelong glance. “Right, my little lovebug?”

You glared at him, your jaw clenched as you fought the urge to strangle him on the spot. “Uh, yeah. Something like that,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Fascinating,” Alexandra said, still clearly unconvinced.

“Tell us everything!” Lando demanded, leaning forward like a gossip-hungry child. “When did this start? Was it one of those dramatic, enemies-to-lovers things? Did you secretly kiss during a race weekend?”

“Lando,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended.

He leaned back, unbothered, and waved you off. “Fine, fine. Keep your secrets.”

“You’re full of surprises, Y/N,” George said, his expression hovering somewhere between confusion and polite disappointment.

“Trust me, George,” you muttered, unable to meet his eyes. “I was just as surprised as you are.”

The teasing and laughter continued, the group trading increasingly wild theories about your so-called relationship. Meanwhile, Franco seemed to bask in the chaos he’d created, his smirk never wavering as he leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself.

Under the table, his knee brushed yours, and you shot him a death glare. “What the hell are you doing?” you hissed under your breath.

“Saving you,” he replied quietly, his tone annoyingly casual.

“By making my life worse?”

He leaned closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Oh, come on. You’d rather sit through more matchmaking from Alexandra?”

You couldn’t argue with that, but it didn’t make you any less furious.

As the group began to move on, shifting the conversation back to other topics, you slumped slightly in your chair, exhausted from the ordeal.

This was going to be a very, very long weekend.

…

The morning sun streamed into the chalet’s large windows, gilding the room in gold. You stirred your coffee slowly, staring out at the snow-covered peaks in the distance. Peace and quiet were rare in a house full of such chaotic personalities, but you’d stolen this moment for yourself.

Or so you thought.

“Morning, sugarplum.”

The sound of Franco’s voice made you visibly tense. You didn’t need to look to know he was leaning against the doorframe, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You’re really committed to that name, aren’t you?” you asked flatly, turning just enough to shoot him a withering look.

“Would you prefer ‘honeybun’?” he replied smoothly, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Or maybe ‘snugglebear’? I’m flexible.”

“How about you don’t call me anything?”

“Not very girlfriend-like of you, sweetheart,” he teased, taking a sip of his coffee and leaning casually against the counter. “People might start to doubt us.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, already feeling your patience wearing thin. “If anyone doubts us, it’s because you’re about as subtle as a flashing neon sign.”

Franco grinned. “What can I say? I’m commited.”

Before you could retort, Lando appeared, sliding into the kitchen with his usual chaotic energy. “What’s this?” he asked, his grin widening as his eyes flicked between you and Franco. “Secret lovebird meeting?”

“We’re not—” you began, but Franco cut you off, slinging an arm around your shoulders with infuriating ease.

“Just waking up my muffin,” he said smoothly.

“Muffin?” Lando repeated, his eyebrows shooting up.

“She’s sweet like one,” Franco explained, giving you a squeeze that you immediately wriggled out of.

Lando barked out a laugh, grabbing an apple from the counter. “You two are ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head as he left the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, you turned to Franco with a scowl. “What the hell have you gotten me into.”

“Relax, cupcake,” he said, smirking. “Although I am loving seeing you worked up like this.”

You crossed your arms tightly, your glare unwavering. “You could’ve warned me before throwing me into this mess.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he quipped, his voice maddeningly light. “You’re quick on your feet; I figured you’d keep up.”

Your frustration bubbled over, and you took a step closer, pointing at him. “This is not fun, Franco. This is me playing along so you don’t make it worse.”

“Relax, cupcake,” he said, smirking again. “You’ll get used to it. And honestly? You’re kind of good at it.”

You threw your hands up, exasperated. “Stop calling me that! This isn’t a game.”

His grin only widened, but there was a flicker of something softer in his gaze as he said, “It’s not a game, but it is very entertaining. Trust me, you’ll survive.”

Your jaw tightened, and you turned away, trying to steady yourself. “If you call me ‘cupcake’ one more time, I swear—”

“Duly noted,” he interrupted, his voice filled with amusement.

You huffed, grabbing the spoon and stirring your coffee again, trying to focus on anything but the smug grin you could still feel behind you.

...

Later that afternoon, you found yourself elbow-deep in a bowl of icing, surrounded by flour-dusted countertops and trays of freshly baked cookies. The group had decided on a cookie-decorating contest, and Alexandra had enlisted everyone with the enthusiasm of a drill sergeant.

“You’re going down,” Lando declared, grabbing a piping bag.

“Not likely,” Max replied, his expression as stoic as ever, though his hands worked with surprising precision.

You were concentrating on spreading icing over a snowman-shaped cookie when Franco appeared at your side.

“Need help, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice dripping with false sincerity.

“No,” you replied sharply, but he was already grabbing a piping bag and leaning into your space.

“You missed a spot,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned even closer.

Before you could react, he dipped a finger into a bowl of icing and held it up to your mouth.

“Say ahh,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Franco,” you hissed, your cheeks burning as the others turned to watch.

“Come on, sugarplum,” he said. “You’ve got to taste test your work.”

Gritting your teeth, you opened your mouth just enough to swipe the icing off his finger with a quick flick of your tongue. The room erupted into a mix of laughter and groans.

“That’s disgusting,” Lando said, though he was clearly enjoying the chaos.

“Get a room,” Max muttered, though his lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile.

You glared at Franco, but his smirk only grew. Grabbing the nearest piping bag, you squeezed a glob of icing onto your fingers and smeared it across his cheek.

“There,” you said sweetly. “You missed a spot.”

The table roared with laughter, and Franco’s grin never faltered as he wiped the icing off with a napkin. “You’re feisty today, snugglebear.”

“Stop calling me that,” you snapped, though there was a faint twinkle of amusement in your eyes.

Alexandra, who was trying to keep the peace, clapped her hands together. “No arguing please. This is supposed to be festive!”

“Don’t worry,” Franco said, his voice smooth as ever. “We’re perfectly fine. Right, sweetheart?”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, instead turning your attention back to your cookies.

“Don’t be shy, sugarplum,” Franco added, leaning closer. “Tell them how much you love me.”

“I hate you,” you muttered under your breath.

“Love you too, honeybear.”

…

By the time the chaos of the afternoon subsided, you were desperate for solitude. The chalet’s constant buzz of laughter and chatter had become too much, so you slipped away, finding refuge in the small, cozy study near the back of the house.

The fire crackled softly in the corner, casting a warm glow over the room. You curled up in one of the oversized armchairs, a cup of hot chocolate warming your hands as you tried to collect your thoughts.

The peace didn’t last long.

The door creaked open, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Found you, sugarplum,” Franco’s infuriatingly smug voice broke the silence.

You groaned, not turning around. “Go away, Franco.”

“And miss this little brooding session? Not a chance,” he said, closing the door behind him.

You heard his footsteps cross the room, and within moments, he was perched on the armrest of your chair, his presence looming far too close for comfort.

“What do you want?” you snapped, finally looking up at him.

“To check on my darling girlfriend,” he replied smoothly, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “You seemed a little… tense earlier.”

“I wonder why,” you said dryly, taking a sip of your cocoa.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, feigning thoughtfulness. “Is it because your sister is practically shoving you at George every five seconds? Good thing I swooped in to save you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You didn’t save me. You made it worse.”

“Worse?” he repeated, mock-offended. “I saved you from months of awkward George politeness and Alexandra’s relentless matchmaking. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” you repeated, incredulous. “For turning my life into a circus?”

Franco smirked, leaning closer. “You’ve got to admit, it’s entertaining.”

You glared at him. “For who? You?”

“For everyone,” he said, laughing softly. “But mostly me.”

Your grip tightened on your mug, your patience hanging by a thread. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, here I am,” he said, grinning. “Your knight in shining armor.”

You snorted. “More like the villain in a rom-com.”

“Rom-com?” he mused. “I like that. Does that make you the quirky lead who doesn’t realize she’s in love with me until the final act?”

“I hate you,” you muttered, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you with the faintest twitch.

“No, you don’t,” he said lightly, leaning back as if he had all the time in the world.

The fire popped loudly, filling the silence that followed. For a brief moment, his teasing smirk softened, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable.

You shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling too exposed. “Why are you really here, Franco?”

He tilted his head, his smirk returning, but a subtle hint of sincerity was now present in his voice. “Just checking in. Making sure my favorite sugarplum isn’t plotting my demise.”

“I’m always plotting your demise,” you said flatly.

“Good to know,” he said, standing but lingering by your side. For once, his smirk faded, replaced by something softer. “But seriously… take it easy, okay?” He paused, his voice dropping slightly. “I’ll make sure tomorrow isn’t so bad.”

He was halfway to the door when it swung open again, revealing Lando, grinning like he’d just stumbled upon a jackpot.

“What’s this? Private lovebird time?” he asked, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation.

“Oh, absolutely,” Franco said, his grin widening. “She couldn’t keep away.”

You groaned, setting your cocoa down. “Lando, please.”

He ignored you, leaning casually against the doorframe. “So, Franco, what’s tomorrow’s nickname? Angelcake? Lovebug?”

“Love nugget,” Franco replied instantly, his smirk smug as ever.

Lando cackled, nearly doubling over. “Love nugget! Oh, this just keeps getting better.”

You buried your face in your hands with a groan. “You’re all insufferable.”

“No, no,” Franco corrected, his grin widening. “I’m the insufferable one. They’re just my audience.”

“Exactly,” Lando chimed in, still laughing. “We’re just here for the show.”

Franco clapped him on the shoulder as he left the room. “Come on. Let’s leave my little honey bunny to her brooding.”

You threw a pillow at them as they walked out, but your aim was off, and their laughter echoed down the hall.

…

The living room buzzed with laughter and chatter, the fire crackling warmly in the hearth as snow fell softly outside. Lando stood at the center of the room, waving a bowl filled with folded slips of paper.

“All right, people!” he declared, his grin as wide as ever. “Time for charades! Teams have been pre-assigned by yours truly, so no arguing.”

“Lando, what did you do?” Carlos asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Created the perfect teams, duh,” Lando replied smugly. “Here we go. Team one: Alex and Charles. Team two: George and Oscar. Team three: Max and Carlos. And finally… Franco and Y/N!”

You groaned audibly, shooting Lando a glare. “Seriously?”

He smirked. “You’re welcome.”

Franco leaned closer, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. “Look at that, sugarplum. Fate wants us to win.”

“How wonderful,” you muttered under your breath.

“Okay, everyone knows the rules,” Lando continued, ignoring the tension between you and Franco. “No talking, sound effects are allowed, but only one person on the team acts at a time. And remember, you’ve got thirty seconds per round. Got it?”

Everyone nodded, settling into their seats as Lando pulled the first slip from the bowl.

The first few rounds were as chaotic as expected. Alex’s exaggerated gestures left Charles laughing too hard to guess, and George and Oscar worked surprisingly well together, securing a few easy points. Max and Carlos turned every clue into a competitive showdown, each accusing the other of overcomplicating things.

By the time it was your team’s turn, the energy in the room was electric, and the scoreboard showed a tight race between George and Oscar’s team and Max and Carlos’s.

“Franco, you’re up!” Lando announced, handing him a slip of paper.

Franco unfolded it, his smirk growing as he read the word. Without a word, he turned to you and held out his hand.

“Come here,” he said simply.

You narrowed your eyes, immediately suspicious. “Why?”

“Just trust me,” he replied, his tone smooth as ever.

Reluctantly, you stepped forward, and he wasted no time pulling you into the center of the room.

“Franco, what are you doing?” you hissed, but he ignored you.

The room fell silent as everyone watched him intently. Without warning, he placed one hand firmly on your back and clasped your other hand in his.

“Wait—”

Before you could protest, he spun you out dramatically, then pulled you back in, his movements fluid and precise.

“Is this—”

“Shh,” he whispered.

Your heart stumbled in your chest as he led you through an impromptu tango, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle, his hand steady on your back as his green eyes locked with yours.

The room erupted in cheers and laughter, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat, loud and insistent in your ears.

You barely had time to register what was happening before he spun you out dramatically, then pulled you back in for a final dip.

“Guess the word, sugarplum,” Franco whispered, his voice low and teasing.

Your brain refused to cooperate. You opened your mouth, but no words came out as your heart pounded in your chest as you stared up at him, completely flustered..

“Uh…”

“Time’s up!” Lando shouted, his laughter ringing above the chaos. “The word was ‘tango!’”

“Oh, come on,” Franco groaned, straightening up and releasing you. “She had one job.”

“I—” You struggled to form a coherent sentence, still reeling from the unexpected intensity of the moment.

“She was too flustered,” Oscar said with a grin. “Can’t blame her for that.”

“You call that acting out?” Max asked, raising an eyebrow. “That was more like showing off.”

“Showing off or not,” Charles interjected, his eyes alight with romantic fervor, “it was beautiful. Truly.”

Carlos clapped Franco on the back. “Points for commitment.”

Lando was practically in tears, clutching his stomach as he laughed. “Please, we should do Friendmas more often! You guys are killing me.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at Franco. “Was that really necessary?”

“I wasn’t trying to win,” Franco said casually, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Just wanted to make it memorable.”

The laughter and teasing in the living room still rang in your ears as you slipped away into the quiet of the kitchen. The glow of the firelight from the other room faded behind you, replaced by the soft hum of the under-cabinet lights. Snow fell steadily outside the large window, each flake illuminated by the warm outdoor lanterns.

Leaning against the counter, you cradled a glass of water in your hands. The coolness seeped through your fingers, grounding you, though it did little to steady the erratic beat of your heart. The tango performance replayed in your mind—Franco’s confident hold, the sharp dip, and the way his gaze lingered on yours a moment too long.

“Y/N?”

The familiar voice made you turn, startled. George stood in the doorway, his posture upright, his expression thoughtful but tinged with hesitation.

“George,” you said, offering a small smile. “Everything all right?”

He stepped inside, his shoes tapping softly against the polished wood floor. “I was about to ask you the same. You seemed, well, rather unsettled during charades. I wanted to make sure you’re… alright.”

You laughed softly, trying to deflect. “Just overwhelmed, I guess. All the attention gets a bit much sometimes.”

George raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. He moved a little closer, his hands sliding into the pockets of his trousers with an air of casual elegance. “May I speak frankly?”

“Of course,” you replied, though a sinking feeling began to settle in your chest.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze fixed on you, his words carefully measured. “Are you and Franco actually serious?”

The question hit harder than you expected.

George continued, his voice soft but deliberate. “It’s just… unexpected. I didn’t think he was, er, your sort of man. But if he makes you happy, that’s what matters. I merely—” He paused, his eyes searching yours. “I’d hate to think you’re settling for anything less than what you deserve.”

Your throat tightened. The sincerity in his tone was disarming, and the lie you’d been weaving all weekend felt heavier than ever.

“I—” You faltered, words failing you.

The door swung open, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Franco stepped inside, his presence filling the room instantly. His gaze flicked between you and George, his green eyes sharp but unreadable. His usual smirk was tempered, his expression calm but watchful.

“Hi there,” Franco said, his voice light but laced with a quiet edge. “Am I interrupting something?”

George turned slightly, his shoulders still relaxed but his tone more clipped. “Not at all. Y/N and I were just having a chat.”

Franco’s eyes lingered on you, and without a word, he stepped closer, his hand sliding to rest gently on your waist. The touch was subtle but deliberate, his fingers warm against the fabric of your sweater.

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Franco said, his smirk returning faintly. “But don’t keep her too long. I might start missing her.”

George’s brow twitched, his eyes flicking briefly to Franco’s hand before returning to yours. “Right,” he said after a moment, his voice still measured. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.” He hesitated, his gaze softening as it lingered on you. “Do let me know if you need anything, Y/N.”

“Thank you, George,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

He nodded once before stepping out, the door closing softly behind him.

The room fell silent, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the distance. Franco didn’t move, his hand still resting firmly on your waist.

“You okay?” he asked finally, his voice quieter than you expected.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

His lips twitched, a faint smirk threatening to appear, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” you replied, though the slight shake in your voice betrayed you.

He tilted his head, his gaze fixed on yours. “Because you disappeared pretty quickly after the game.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he continued before you could.

“I came to check on you,” he said, his tone casual but deliberate. “Can’t say I’m surprised though that George went to find you first.”

Your brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

Franco shifted slightly, his thumb brushing subtly against your waist in a way that sent an unexpected jolt through you. “He clearly wanted to test the water,” he said, his voice low, almost conversational. “Cornering you in here like that. Asking questions he knows might throw you off.”

“Sure, sweet George had sneaky intentions,” you said, though a soft laugh escaped you.

“For sure,” Franco insisted, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing his features. “He’s too polite to make it obvious, but trust me, he knows what he’s doing.”

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” Franco replied, the smirk returning. His thumb moved again, a slow, absent stroke against your side as he spoke. “He’s clever enough to know when to push without it looking like he’s pushing.”

“And you think that’s what he was doing?”

“Even is he wasn't,” Franco said, meeting your gaze squarely. For a moment, his usual bravado was replaced by something more sincere, more grounded. “I just wanted to make sure he knows you’re mine.”

Your breath caught, the words hanging in the air between you like a delicate thread.

He must have noticed the way your expression shifted because he chuckled softly, his smirk softening. “You know, for now. Until this whole thing is over and you can go back to being everyone’s favorite single lady.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart was pounding. “Oh, how noble of you.”

“Very noble,” he said, his tone teasing again. “It’s hard work being such a convincing fake boyfriend.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible?” he repeated, his smirk deepening. “Or exactly what you need?”

The moment stretched, his hand still resting on your waist, his touch grounding and unnervingly warm. For a split second, it felt like the world outside the kitchen had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in this small, quiet space.

“You know,” you said quietly, barely meeting his gaze, “Alexandra’s matchmaking ideas don’t exactly… line up with what I want. So you don’t have to worry about that.”

Franco’s brow lifted slightly, but the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “Good to know.”

He cleared his throat, stepping back just enough to give you some space but not enough to completely break the connection. “Come on, sugarplum. We should get back before Lando starts a search party.”

“Right,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

He gestured for you to lead the way, his hand lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle before he finally let it fall.

As you stepped back into the chaos of the living room, you couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. The smirk was back, his confident demeanor firmly in place, but something about the way he’d spoken lingered in your mind.

…

The lake glistened under the pale winter sun, the ice reflecting the snowy peaks surrounding it. The group was a riot of scarves, gloves, and thick jackets, their breath visible in the crisp, cold air.

“Right, bets are open!” Lando declared, pulling his gloves tighter. “Charles versus Carlos: who’s wiping out first?”

“Carlos,” Max said flatly, tightening his own skates.

“I’m offended,” Carlos shot back, puffing his chest dramatically.

“I’ll take that action,” Oscar quipped, producing a crumpled bill from his pocket.

Meanwhile, Franco stood next to you, his hands tucked casually in his coat pockets as he watched the scene unfold with a grin. “Think you’ll make it through without falling, pudding pie?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Think you can go a full hour without making a comment like that?”

“Nope,” he replied, his grin widening.

Charles and Carlos were already on the ice, their playful bickering carrying across the frozen expanse as they started an impromptu race. Charles was fast but clumsy, slipping every few strides, while Carlos cackled loudly, skating circles around him.

Lando and Max, true to form, took their positions at the sidelines to heckle and place more bets.

You laced your skates carefully, trying to ignore the fact that Franco’s gaze was on you the entire time.

“Ready?” he asked as you stood, wobbling slightly.

“Don’t laugh,” you warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, though the smirk playing at the corners of his lips said otherwise.

The ice stretched out before you, gleaming under the pale winter sun like a vast, treacherous mirror. Each step felt like a gamble, your skates threatening to slip out from under you at any moment. Franco skated backward effortlessly in front of you, his movements smooth and confident, as if he’d been born to glide.

“You look like a baby deer,” he teased, his green eyes alight with amusement.

You shot him a glare, your arms flailing slightly as you tried to regain your balance. “Thanks for the support.”

“Relax,” he said, skating closer. His hands reached out instinctively, steadying you with a touch that was firmer than necessary but far from unwelcome. “You’re doing fine.”

“I don’t need your help,” you muttered, though you made no move to pull your hand away as he laced his fingers with yours.

He smirked, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles in a way that sent a small jolt of warmth through you. “Sure you don’t.”

Behind you, Lando’s voice rang out, cutting through the stillness of the lake.

“Max is going down! I can feel it!”

Max, ever unbothered, glided past with surprising ease. “You’re the one who’s going down, Lando,” he retorted without looking back.

Franco chuckled softly, his gaze flicking briefly toward the chaos around you before returning to your face. “You’re lucky I’m not like them.”

“What, loud and extremely present?” you quipped, your lips twitching in the beginnings of a smile.

“Exactly,” he replied, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the way your shoulders relaxed slightly under his steadying touch.

Taking a deep breath, you let go of his hand, feeling a surge of confidence as you took a tentative step on your own.

The sudden scrape of blades against ice drew your attention to George as he skated up beside you, his posture impossibly straight, his movements smooth and deliberate.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his tone warm and polite, as always.

You glanced at him, your heart sinking slightly at the hopeful look in his blue eyes. His hand hovered just in front of yours, an offer you knew he thought you might take.

“That’s sweet of you, George,” you said gently, forcing a small smile. “But I think Franco’s got it.”

His hand lowered slightly, and his expression shifted, though he recovered quickly.

Before the silence could stretch too far, you turned back to Franco, raising your free hand toward him. “Hold my hand again?”

Franco raised a brow, clearly surprised by the request, but he didn’t hesitate. His hand slid easily into yours, his grip firm and steady as he pulled you closer. “Anything for you, sugarplum.”

The words, playful as they were, carried a softness that hadn’t been there before, and for a moment, you forgot about the chill in the air.

George hesitated briefly, his gaze flicking between you and Franco, before nodding once. “All right then,” he said, his tone polite but slightly clipped. “I’ll let you two be.”

He skated ahead with a precision that seemed a little too deliberate, his back straight and his strides measured.

Franco watched him go, his lips twitching in the beginnings of a smirk. “Smooth,” he murmured, turning his attention back to you.

“Don’t start,” you said quickly, though the warmth of his hand made it impossible to sound annoyed.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough for only you to hear. “You could’ve let him help, you know.”

“I didn’t want his help,” you replied, your gaze fixed on the ice in front of you.

“No?” Franco’s smirk deepened, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again in a motion so casual it felt intentional. “Guess I’m doing something right then.”

You didn’t respond, though your cheeks burned under his gaze. Instead, you focused on moving forward, your steps growing more confident with his hand in yours.

Around you, the chaos of the group continued unabated—Carlos yelling at Charles for cutting him off during their makeshift race, Lando shrieking as Max lunged at him with outstretched arms, and Oscar laughing so hard he nearly fell over.

But for a brief moment, it all faded into the background, leaving only the sound of your blades against the ice and the warmth of Franco’s hand in yours.

…

The chalet buzzed with noise and laughter as we stumbled back inside from the frozen lake. The warmth from the roaring fire hit me like a wave, thawing my frozen fingers and toes. Everyone was shedding layers—scarves, coats, gloves—creating a chaotic pile near the doorway.

“I had him!” Charles was practically shouting, his voice thick with indignation as he gestured wildly at Carlos. “He tripped me on purpose!”

Carlos, leaning casually against the back of a chair, raised a brow and smirked. “I didn’t trip you, mate. You tripped yourself.”

“Oh, sure,” Charles shot back, throwing his gloves down dramatically. “You just happened to be in my way.”

“Can someone trip him again? I need a replay,” Lando quipped, flopping onto the armrest of the couch with all the grace of a cat falling off a ledge.

“You’re all terrible,” Charles muttered, though the corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

“You know what’s really terrible?” Max cut in, pointing a finger at Lando. “Lando’s skating. I’ve seen toddlers with more grace.”

“Excuse me!” Lando sat up, mock-offended. “Who got you to fall, hmm? Oh, right—it was me. Call it strategy.”

“It was chaos,” Oscar said, sipping his tea as he perched on the edge of the couch. “Pure chaos.”

“Chaos,” Alexandra chimed in, walking past me as she unwound her scarf, “is you all trying to one-up each other like you’re in some kind of Winter Olympics tryout.”

“Alexandra, be honest,” Carlos said, leaning toward her. “Who was better—me or Charles?”

She pretended to consider it for a moment before shrugging. “Neither. You were both disasters in your own way.”

I snorted, pulling off my gloves and tucking them into my coat pocket. “She’s not wrong.”

Max turned his gaze to me, smirking. “Speaking of disasters, I saw you almost fall twice.”

“Almost being the key word,” I shot back, narrowing my eyes at him.

“You only survived because of him,” Max said, jerking his chin toward Franco, who was currently leaning against the fireplace like he had all the time in the world.

“Is that true?” Alexandra asked, her eyes flicking between Franco and me.

“Absolutely,” Franco said, his grin lazy as he met my gaze. “Graceful as ever, aren’t you, sugarplum?”

The group burst into laughter, and I felt my cheeks heat. I rolled my eyes, grabbing the hem of my sweater and pretending to brush off invisible dust. “I’m going to make hot chocolate. At least that won’t involve falling on my face.”

The kitchen was warm and quiet, a perfect escape from the chaos of the living room. I stirred the bubbling cocoa on the stove, letting the rhythmic motion calm me as the faint hum of voices filtered through the walls.

The door creaked open, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Franco stepping inside. His hair was still tousled from the cold, and his green eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and something softer.

“Couldn’t resist joining me, huh?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, someone had to check on the quality control of this hot chocolate,” he quipped, leaning casually against the counter.

I snorted, turning back to the pot. “As if you’re qualified to judge.”

He grinned, pushing off the counter and taking a step closer. “Bold words for someone who didn’t even add marshmallows.”

“They’re coming,” I shot back.

“Sure they are,” he said, his voice teasing but light.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. I focused on the cocoa, feeling his eyes on me. When I glanced at him again, he was fidgeting slightly, his hands shifting in his pockets.

“What’s up?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

He hesitated before pulling a small, slightly crumpled package from his pocket. “I wanted to give you something,” he said, his voice quieter now.

That caught me off guard. “You? Giving me something?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling out a small package wrapped in slightly crumpled paper. He set it on the counter between us, his movements slower than usual.

“You’re serious?” I asked, eyeing the little package, still in shock.

“It’s nothing big,” he said grinning shyly. “I just… wanted to give you this before the whole Secret Santa circus starts later.”

I stared at the package, my curiosity piqued. “You’re not my Secret Santa.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the “p” as he placed the package on the counter between us. “I’m just really bad at following the rules.”

I looked at the package, then back at him. “Is this going to explode?”

“No, it’s not going to explode,” he said, his grin softening into something almost sheepish. “Just open it.”

I stared at the package for a moment before taking it, the weight of his gaze making my chest tighten. Carefully, I peeled back the wrapping, revealing a delicate gold bracelet with a tiny heart-shaped charm.

I turned it over, my breath catching when I saw the engraving on the back: Sugarplum.

“Franco…” I trailed off, brushing my thumb over the charm.

“It’s just a silly thing, got it in town this morning,” he said quickly, his words tumbling over each other. “For when this weekend’s over and you’ll start missing my nicknames. Or, you know, to apologize for dragging you into this whole fake-dating mess in the first place.”

“I don’t mind as much as I thought I would,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced at me, his green eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. “Still. I thought it might be nice to have… a funny memory. Or whatever.”

I slipped the bracelet onto my wrist, the charm resting lightly against my skin. It fit perfectly, as though it had always belonged there.

The bracelet’s charm glinted softly in the light as it settled against my wrist, the chain fitting perfectly. I turned it over once more, running my thumb across the tiny engraving.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” I said, glancing up at him.

Franco shrugged, leaning back slightly against the counter. “I know. But… I wanted to. It felt right.”

I raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Right?”

“Okay, maybe ‘right’ is overselling it,” he admitted, his grin faint and a little sheepish. “But I figured, if we’re doing this whole fake-dating thing, we might as well have something to laugh about later. You know, when we’re telling everyone how much we hated it.”

His words were light, but something about the way he said them made my chest tighten. “I don’t really hate it,” I said quietly.

He blinked, his grin faltering. “No?”

I shook my head, the bracelet shifting slightly as I let my arms fall to my sides. “It’s been… weird. Definitely not what I expected, but not all bad.”

“Not all bad,” he repeated, his tone teasing but softer.

“Yeah,” I said, shrugging a little. “I guess I’ve gotten… used to you.”

He tilted his head, his green eyes narrowing slightly. “Used to me? Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Take it however you want,” I said, fighting back a smile.

“Noted,” he said, his lips curving into something closer to his usual smirk. “I’ll put it right up there with, ‘Franco, you’re annoying, but tolerable.’”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Don’t push it.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice dropping slightly, “it hasn’t been all bad for me either. I mean, you’ve got your moments.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Moments?”

“Yeah,” he said, his grin softening. “Like when you aren’t rolling your eyes at me or threatening to throw something. Those are nice.”

I rolled my eyes instinctively, but the warmth in his gaze made my stomach flip. “Oh shut up,” I muttered, though there was no real heat in my voice.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us shifted, growing heavier, and I felt the distance between us shrink even though neither of us moved.

“You’re going to keep calling me Sugarplum, aren’t you?” I asked finally, breaking the silence.

“Oh, absolutely,” he said, his grin returning. “You’re stuck with it now.”

The room felt smaller suddenly, the warmth from the stove and the weight of his gaze wrapping around me like a blanket. My heart pounded as the silence stretched, the unspoken words hanging between us growing louder with every passing second.

“Franco,” I began, not even sure what I was going to say.

His eyes searched mine, his lips parting slightly, as though he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

Without thinking, I leaned forward and kissed him.

The movement startled him at first—his breath hitched, his hands hovering awkwardly—but then he responded, his touch finding my waist as he pulled me closer. His lips were warm and soft, hesitant at first, as though he wasn’t entirely sure he was allowed to kiss me back.

When my hand slid up to the back of his neck, threading through his hair, the kiss deepened. His grip on my waist tightened, his other hand brushing lightly against my arm before settling on my lower back. The air between us seemed to crackle, the faint scent of cocoa mingling with the heat of his touch.

He kissed me like he was trying to memorize it, his lips moving slowly but deliberately, as though he didn’t want to rush.

When I finally pulled back, my forehead barely brushed against his, our breaths mingling in the warm air of the kitchen. My cheeks burned, and my pulse hammered in my ears, but I couldn’t bring myself to step away just yet.

Franco’s green eyes searched mine, his usual confidence replaced by something quieter, softer. His lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come right away.

“I didn’t think you’d do that,” he finally murmured, his voice low and uncertain.

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” I asked, my tone light despite the way my chest tightened.

“Good,” he said without hesitation, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Really good.”

His hands were still resting lightly on my waist, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of my sweater. The warmth of his touch was bringing my head back to earth, making the moment feel more real than anything that had come before it.

I wasn’t sure who moved first, but before I knew it, I was leaning back in, capturing his lips in another kiss. This one was slower, more deliberate, the kind of kiss that felt like an unspoken promise. His hand slid up to cradle my face, his thumb brushing softly against my cheek as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

The sound of the door creaking open made us jump apart, and I turned sharply to see Lando standing frozen in the doorway, his mouth hanging open.

For a moment, none of us spoke. Then, Lando blinked, his gaze darting between us as his brain seemed to catch up with what he’d just walked in on.

“Oh my god,” he blurted out, his voice a mix of shock and triumph. “You’re actually for real..”

“Lando—” Franco started, his voice low and exasperated.

“No, no, wait. This is—wow. I mean, Oscar’s gonna lose his mind. And ten euros.” Lando grinned, his excitement building.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Lando, can you please just—”

“Leave you to it?” he interrupted, smirking as he leaned casually against the doorframe. “Sure, I can do that.”

The sound of his retreating footsteps was immediately followed by his voice erupting from the living room. “OSCAR! MAX! THEY’RE ACTUALLY TOGETHER! PAY UP!”

Franco let out a long sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m going to kill him.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly.

I glanced down at the bracelet on my wrist, the charm catching the light. The warmth spreading through me was impossible to ignore, a quiet certainty settling in my chest.

“Still worth it?” I asked, my tone teasing but soft.

His eyes flicked to the bracelet and then back to me, and the smile that followed was warmer, more genuine.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Definitely.”

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