#i think she needs her own tag now lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theonottsbxtch · 20 days ago

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LOVE - LOCKED | FC43

an: this is based off of this request and i hope you like it bc i had sm fun writing a romantic slightly angsty thing i cant wait to hear what y'all thin, i also think it may be slightly rushed tho so lol ALSO LOL WE'RE GONNA PRETEND CARLOS IS YOUNGER IN THIS BC I NEEDED HER TO BE HIS OLDER SISTER

summary: carlos' sister has lived her life completely separated from him and their family name, instead she went and made a name for herself in the tennis world - she likes her life like that. that is until she meets franco colapinto

wc: 8.7k

The roar of engines, even from a distance, unsettled her.

They reminded her of the long days her father and brother spent in garages, the low rumble of motors and sharp tang of fuel in the air. Those were the hours she’d spend alone, working on her serve in the empty court across town, each hit ricocheting off the walls with a hollow, lonely echo. Her own choice, of course. She’d had no interest in the world of carbon fibre and grease, no desire to be the girl who simply tagged along, her name always in her brother’s shadow.

Now, years later, she’d become someone entirely on her own terms. A name people knew on its own — Vázquez de Castro — a name that meant something outside of her family, outside of her brother’s fame.

She slipped her phone into her bag and looked around the chaotic pit lane. Journalists, engineers, teams in matching shirts, faces alight with anticipation for the weekend's race. She knew she’d stand out here; her face might be familiar, but she was a stranger in this world.

The hum of voices around her faded as she felt his gaze. She’d been hoping to move through unnoticed, just a face in a sea of faces, but there he was: tall, familiar, unmistakably Carlos. His brow furrowed in surprise as he caught sight of her, his quick steps carrying him closer before she had a chance to dodge. She braced herself, turning to him with a calm that she didn’t quite feel.

“No aquí,” she murmured, her voice low, hoping that would be enough to keep curious ears at bay.

He paused, just a moment, his expression softening in understanding, and he tilted his head, his face somewhere between a grin and a frown. “You came.”

It wasn’t an accusation exactly — more surprise than anything. But she couldn’t miss the faint hope in his eyes, as if he thought she might be here to see him, to share a piece of his world after all this time. She let his words linger for a beat before she replied, her tone steady.

“I was invited,” she said, giving a slight shrug, “by Fernando.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the green and silver canopy, keeping her tone casual, but she saw his shoulders fall ever so slightly.

He nodded, glancing away for a moment, his jaw set. “Right. Fernando.”

There was something she wanted to say, something to soften the look in his eyes, but the pit lane was crowded, the eyes and cameras trained on every inch of the paddock sharper than she’d ever expected. They’d notice anything. And the last thing she wanted was for the papers to start spinning stories, putting her under a headline right next to him.

She touched his arm briefly. “Te hablo en el hotel. I’ll speak to you at the hotel.”

As she made her way toward the exit, ready to slip back into the background and disappear, she heard a voice calling out just over the rumble of engines and chatter.

“¡La princesa española!”

The words were unmistakable, lilting and clear, even with the crowd and machinery all around. The Spanish Princess. The nickname made her falter. It was something she sometimes heard on the tennis courts in Madrid or whispered by fans in distant cities when she played in international tournaments. But here? She scanned the area, puzzled at who would recognise her in this world of racing.

When she turned, her eyes met those of someone unfamiliar yet striking. He was tall, with an easy, disarming smile, his race suit gleaming with the bright, bold colours of his team’s livery. He looked young, not much older than she was, but he carried himself with that unmistakable energy she’d seen in rising stars before. The rookie, she realised, though she hadn’t kept up enough to know his name.

He held her gaze a moment too long, that same smile lingering as he approached, his eyes sparking with something between amusement and curiosity. She felt herself tense, almost involuntarily, her instinct telling her to slip away, to avoid whatever came next.

“Es realmente la princesa española,” he said, his tone playful yet certain.

Then it hit her.

Franco.

That was his name.

Franco’s grin widened as he closed the distance between them, his eyes bright with an almost boyish enthusiasm. “Soy un gran admirador de tu trabajo,” he said, his Argentine accent softening his words. “I’ve watched almost all your matches — I love the way you play.”

She blinked, taken aback. This wasn’t the usual kind of recognition she got, especially not here. She could count on one hand how many times she’d been recognised in public. She looked at him, trying to reconcile this confident young driver with the earnest fan in front of her.

“¿Me conoces?” The question slipped out before she could think, her voice tinged with disbelief.

He raised an eyebrow, his smile never faltering. “¿Quién no te conoce?” he replied, with a touch of humour. “La princesa española, queen of the clay court, unstoppable backhand — yeah, I know you.”

There was something genuine in his tone, something that set him apart from the usual strangers who said they knew her.

And before she could stop herself, she found herself almost smiling. She cleared her throat, searching for a response, but her mind was blank. What could she say? That she knew nothing of him, or any of these people — that she had only set foot here today by chance?

She settled for a simple, “Gracias.”

Franco’s curiosity didn’t waver. He leaned in slightly, folding his arms with an amused glint in his eyes. “So, what brings la princesa española to the F1 paddock?”

She shrugged lightly, careful not to reveal too much. “I’m here as one of Fernando Alonso’s guests. Aston Martin.” She left it at that, hoping he wouldn’t dig further. Noticing that she looked a bit like another driver on the paddock. Thankfully, he didn’t.

His grin only grew wider, and she had the feeling that her mystery intrigued him. “Well then, if you’re one of Fernando’s guests, that means you’re not tied to my team,” he said with a glint of mischief. “Come with me — I’ll give you a tour of my garage. It’ll be like… a private tour.”

She hesitated, her gaze shifting back toward the exit, where she’d planned to slip out and leave all of this behind. If she went with him, there was a chance people would recognise her, start to connect her with her brother’s world. She’d spent her whole career carefully avoiding this — the headlines, the whispers, the inevitable questions about why she’d chosen such a different path. But the look on his face, that open, boyish enthusiasm, was hard to resist.

She let out a sigh, then looked up at him with a sudden, defiant glimmer in her eye. “Screw it. ¿Por qué no?”

His whole face lit up. She could practically see the excitement radiating off him as he extended his hand, his confidence a little too easy, a little too certain. She eyed his hand for a moment before raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

“Modales,” she chided, her tone playful. “I’ve known you for five minutes. We’re not dating.”

“Yet,” he replied without missing a beat, a spark in his eyes.

Despite herself, she smiled, a real one, something she hadn’t felt since stepping into the paddock that day.

He led her through the bustling paddock with an easy confidence, weaving between crew members, equipment, and cameras as if none of it could touch him. She was impressed, though she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying so. The chaos of the pit lane, the narrow spaces and the clang of metal, all seemed to bend around him.

When they reached his team’s garage, he stopped by a young assistant stationed just outside, who looked at them with curious eyes.

“Do me a favour,” he said, barely containing his grin, “and grab a VIP lanyard for Williams’ guests, will you?”

The assistant glanced at her, his eyes widening slightly in recognition before he nodded and ducked away, returning a moment later with a crisp, team-branded lanyard. Franco took it with a pleased smile, then held out his hand for hers. She unclipped the Aston Martin lanyard from her neck and handed it over, watching with a mix of surprise and amusement as he replaced it with the one from his own team.

“There,” he said, adjusting the lanyard’s position with exaggerated care. “Now you’re officially part of the team.”

She couldn’t hold back her smirk. “You know, I don’t think lanyards change allegiances so easily.”

“Maybe not. But I do think it’s an improvement.” He winked, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “Besides, the only lanyard you should be wearing here is mine.”

She laughed, caught off guard by his unfiltered charm, as he held out his arm with an exaggerated flourish. “And now, mi princesa, a grand tour.”

He led her into the garage, his tone switching between informative and teasing as he explained the various stations. “Over here, we have the engineering bay — where the magic of data happens.” He gestured toward a row of monitors displaying endless streams of numbers. “And these guys in the corner? They’re the wizards of aerodynamics. Make a mess, they won’t let you forget it.”

As they moved through each section, he offered her a glimpse into the world of F1, his energy and excitement almost contagious. She watched him with quiet intrigue; he seemed to belong here completely, as if he thrived in the chaos and intensity of it all.

“Now, over here,” he continued, leaning a bit closer to her as they approached a sleek wall of tires and tools, “this is where I go for my pre-race pep talks. I think it helps the tires, too.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You talk to the tires?”

“Only on occasion,” he said with a mock-serious nod. “And they listen. Or at least, I hope they do.” He grinned again, that glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Besides, they never talk back.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, but there was a smile in it, one she couldn’t quite suppress. He was disarming, funny in a way that felt refreshingly different from the sharp, serious world she’d known. He noticed the hint of a smile and held her gaze, leaning in just slightly.

Before she could say anything else, Franco led her deeper into the garage, weaving through the maze of tools, car parts, and engineers, who looked up now and then with curious glances. She followed, intrigued despite herself, and finally, unable to keep silent, asked, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he said, shooting her a look over his shoulder that was both charming and infuriatingly vague.

He stopped in front of a nondescript door tucked away from the bustle of the main garage. She glanced around, realising they were in the private part of the team’s area. He opened the door to his driver room, gesturing for her to step inside. The room was small but comfortable, filled with team memorabilia, spare racing gloves, and a neat rack of team-branded clothes. Before she could take it all in, he went over to a stack of neatly folded shirts and pulled one from the pile.

He turned back to her, holding up the shirt with a proud smile. “Here,” he said, offering it to her. “Wear this tomorrow.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing between him and the shirt with mock scepticism. “Bold of you to assume I’d wear your merch.”

His grin only widened. “I think you’d look great in it,” he said, undeterred. “Besides, it’d be an honour to have la princesa española in my colours.”

She took the shirt, running her fingers over the soft fabric, and met his gaze with a slight smirk. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me,” he replied, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. He looked like he wanted to say more, but just then, his phone buzzed on the nearby table, and he glanced at it with a slight frown before pocketing it again.

“So,” he continued, his tone shifting to something a little more casual, “what are you doing for dinner?”

The question surprised her. She hadn’t planned on lingering much longer after her brother’s race prep finished. She hadn’t planned on any of this, really. But he was watching her expectantly, and for a moment, she let herself consider it.

“Dinner?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion. “You’re not very subtle, are you?”

“Not at all,” he admitted with a grin. “What do you say? Let me take you out. I promise I’m as good at picking places to eat as I am at tours.”

She couldn’t resist a small laugh. “Alright,” she said, glancing up at him with an easy smile. “I’ll see you for dinner.”

He opened his mouth to say something more, but just then, a voice called out from down the hallway. “Franco man, we’ve been looking all around for you!” A team manager appeared in the doorway, looking equal parts exasperated and amused.

Franco sighed, flashing her an apologetic look as he straightened. “Duty calls,” he muttered with a smirk. He lingered a moment, as if reluctant to leave, then glanced back at her with a warm smile.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said, feeling a thrill she hadn’t expected. “See you tonight.”

He nodded, his grin returning full force, then turned to follow the manager out, giving her a final, backward glance that lingered just a second too long.

Back in her hotel room, she brushed a final touch of mascara over her lashes and glanced at her phone, where a text from Franco glowed on the screen.

Franco: “Ready whenever you are. No rush. See you soon :)”

She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Tonight felt surprisingly… normal. Like she was just someone getting ready for a date, no stakes attached. She straightened her dress, checked her reflection, and took a steadying breath.

A soft knock at her door snapped her from her thoughts, and she felt a small flutter of excitement, assuming it was him. But when she opened the door, her breath caught.

Her brother stood there, his expression a mixture of confusion and something she couldn’t quite read. She masked her surprise quickly, stepping aside to let him in, though her voice was firm. “I can talk for a bit, but I have plans tonight.”

“With Franco?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

She narrowed her eyes slightly, caught off guard. “How did you know?”

He gave a soft, humourless laugh, crossing his arms. “I saw you two in the paddock,” he said. “And I overheard him talking about it in the garage. Apparently, he couldn’t stop telling anyone who’d listen about his ‘date with la princesa de España.’” He looked at her, and his voice softened. “So why is it you have no problem being seen with him, but not with your own brother?”

His question hung heavily in the air, the familiar tension between them settling back into place. She took a breath, struggling for the right words. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be seen with him — it was the weight of everything that came with it. The press, the fans, the inevitable comparisons. She could already see the headlines if they were spotted together, her name placed directly beside his, stripping away the hard-won independence she’d fought for.

She sighed, glancing at him. “It’s not… about you,” she said carefully. “It’s just… everything that comes with it. You know how it is.”

He shook his head, looking slightly hurt. “I don’t know, actually. I’ve always thought we were supposed to be in this together. But I feel like… I don’t know, like you’re just trying to run from anything that connects us.”

She sighed, leaning against the doorframe, her voice dropping to something softer, more serious. “It’s not that I don’t want to be seen with you,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I just don’t want to be known as Carlos’ sister everywhere I go. I’ve worked hard to build my own name, my own career, and sometimes… being around you, it overshadows that.”

Her brother studied her, his face a mix of understanding and something else, a flash of protective instinct. “You know, if you date Franco, you’ll just end up being known as his girlfriend,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “It’s just a date, Carlos. Nothing more.”

He shrugged, his mouth quirking in a small smile. “Yeah, well, with him, nothing ever stays ‘just’ anything. Just saying.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a warmth behind it. “Thanks for the concern, but I’ll be fine.”

They shared a quiet moment of understanding before she gently nudged him toward the door. “Go get some rest. And good luck tomorrow. I’ll be cheering from the sidelines.”

The evening was soft and cool, the sky painted in shades of violet and indigo as the city stretched out below them. The balcony they’d stepped onto was tucked away from the bustling noise of the hotel, private and intimate, offering only the sounds of the night breeze and the occasional far-off hum of the city.

Franco had arranged it all—quiet, serene, away from prying eyes. The dinner was simple but elegant: a few delicate dishes of fresh seafood, wine that wasn’t too heavy, just enough to let the conversation flow freely. It was just the two of them, and she realised as she stood there, her hand brushing the railing, how rare that felt.

She’d worn a dress that was understated, yet elegant—a deep midnight blue that mirrored the evening sky, the fabric light enough to catch the breeze. She hadn’t given it much thought; it wasn’t for anyone but herself. But when Franco first saw her, the look in his eyes told her that, maybe, it had been the right choice after all.

His gaze lifted from the table where he had been adjusting the wine glasses, and the moment he saw her, the words spilled out before he could even stop them.

“Dios mío, qué hermosa estás.” His voice was low, his gaze sweeping over her with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

She felt her cheeks flush, the compliment unexpected but not unwelcome. She had been nervous about the evening, unsure of what this was or what it would become. But his words, simple and sincere, relaxed something inside her.

“Gracias,” she replied with a small smile, feeling the warmth in her chest spread, her eyes meeting his.

He stood up, taking a small step toward her as if to take in the full picture, his gaze never leaving her face. “I swear,” he continued, his voice filled with genuine awe, “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even more stunning than earlier. It's like... you're glowing.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I think you’re just being kind.”

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head as he closed the distance between them. “I’m not the kind of guy to throw compliments around just to be polite. Te ves increíble, you look incredible.”

After a decent amount of eating, a stretched out silence, Franco spoke up. “So,” he began, his voice casual but warm, “what’s it like to be the la princesa española outside of tennis?”

She raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of her wine. “I don’t really think of myself as that,” she said lightly. “It’s just a nickname.”

“I don’t know,” he teased. “I think it suits you. You have a... regal air about you.” His eyes glinted with mischief as he added, “I’m sure you’d never get away with being late for anything. Everyone would just wait for the princess to show up.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. “You really are persistent with those compliments, aren’t you?”

“Solo con la verdad,” he said with a grin, leaning back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself.

The evening unfolded easily after that. They spoke about everything and nothing: about their childhoods, what had brought them to this point in their careers, how it felt to always be in the spotlight. She told him stories from her tennis matches, and he shared wild tales of racing, of the constant pressure and adrenaline.

But it was the quieter moments, the small pauses between their words, that felt the most significant. When he leaned in to pass her the bottle of wine, their hands brushed, and the air seemed to thicken for a moment. His gaze lingered a bit longer than it needed to, and she noticed the subtle way his smile softened when their eyes met. She wasn’t used to this — this ease, this comfort that felt so unforced — but it was exactly what she hadn’t realised she’d been searching for.

“You know,” Franco said, his tone thoughtful, “I can’t remember the last time I had a night like this. Just—” He waved his hand toward the view, the quiet that surrounded them. “It’s nice. To not be rushing off to something. No cameras, no expectations.”

She looked out over the balcony at the skyline, the city lights twinkling in the distance. “I know what you mean. There’s always so much noise, so many people trying to pull you in different directions. It’s rare to just… be.” She turned to look at him, her voice lowering slightly. “It’s a little surreal, actually.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, there was a silence between them that felt like a shared understanding. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he looked at her, his expression genuine. “I’m glad you’re here with me tonight. I’m glad I got to spend this time with you.”

Her heart did a little flip at the sincerity in his voice. She wasn’t sure what she had expected from the evening, but this — this felt right.

“So,” he continued, his voice lightening again, “any chance I can convince you to wear my team’s shirt tomorrow?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he said with a wink, “but only because I know you’d look amazing in it.”

She rolled her eyes but could feel the warmth in her chest spread. “I’ll think about it,” she teased, mirroring his playful tone.

The conversation drifted back to lighter topics, the evening unfolding with ease as the world seemed to blur around them. As the night deepened, they shared stories, laughter, and quiet glances that spoke volumes. It wasn’t the fireworks, the grand gestures of a first date. But it was something else — something that felt like a beginning.

When the last of the wine was finished, and the candles flickered low, Franco stood, offering her a hand to help her to her feet. He didn’t say anything at first, but his eyes told her everything. His fingers brushed against hers, and she didn’t pull away.

As the night grew later, the air around them cooled, and they moved to the edge of the balcony, gazing out over the city. The quiet was comforting, the soft hum of distant traffic the only sound breaking the stillness between them.

She let out a small sigh, her mind wandering, and with it, the weight of everything that had brought her to this moment. She looked up at him, caught in the calm but uncertain about what this night might mean.

"Well, this has been lovely," she said, her voice light but tinged with something else. "But, just so you know… this is probably going to be our only date."

His eyebrows furrowed, his smile faltering for just a fraction of a second. “Why?” he asked, his tone suddenly laced with concern. “Have I done something wrong?”

She met his gaze, her chest tight for reasons she couldn’t quite place. There was no logical reason for her to feel that way — he had been nothing but kind, charming, and genuine all night. But there was still that lingering sense of hesitation, a wall she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to tear down.

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head as if to reassure him. “You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just… I don’t know if I can do this.”

He looked at her for a long moment, studying her face. The playful glint in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something softer, something quieter, as if he were trying to understand her better.

“I’m not really a person who runs from things," she said, her voice lowering slightly, unsure how to put her thoughts into words. “But there are parts of my life I’m... careful about. I can’t help but keep them to myself.”

She hesitated, feeling a strange tug in her chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, she found herself wanting to share something personal, something she had hidden away. She took a breath and let it slip out before she could second-guess herself.

“I have a brother,” she began, looking out at the city below them, trying to steady her voice. “He’s a Formula 1 driver.”

Franco froze, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Wait... what?”

She glanced at him, a slight laugh escaping her lips at the look of genuine surprise on his face. “Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “Carlos.”

He blinked, his surprise turning into a quiet sense of disbelief. “Carlos Sainz?” He repeated her brother’s name, almost as if he were trying to process it. “I had no idea…”

She looked at him, a slight sadness settling in her chest. “Most people don’t,” she said, her voice quiet now. “I never tell anyone. I’ve worked my entire life to be known for me—for what I do, not because of who I’m related to. I don’t want to live in someone’s shadow.”

Franco didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch out between them. He was thinking, she could tell. It was as though he were weighing her words, weighing the tension in her tone. Then, slowly, he spoke, his voice steady but sincere.

“With me, you wouldn't,” he said, his gaze meeting hers with an intensity that took her by surprise. “You wouldn’t be in anyone’s shadow. Not if you didn’t want to be.”

She was quiet for a long moment, his words sinking in. Part of her wanted to dismiss it, wanted to keep pushing away the idea of anyone in her life stepping into that shadow. But there was something in his eyes—something honest and unwavering—that made her hesitate. He wasn’t offering her fame or status. He was offering her something far simpler. The space to be herself.

Then, he said something that made her heart skip a beat.

“I’ll be your WAG,” he said, his voice surprisingly matter-of-fact, his smile just a little crooked.

She laughed, a quick, startled sound. “What?” she teased, shaking her head. “Are you serious? ‘WAG’—really?”

He leaned in slightly, the smile still on his face but his eyes unflinching. “En serio. I’m serious.” he added with a little more emphasis, the words flowing naturally from him.

Her laughter died down, replaced by a brief, curious silence. She was still processing his words, still trying to understand how it had escalated from a simple dinner to this.

“You’re joking,” she said softly, unsure whether to laugh or take him seriously.

“No,” he7 replied, his voice now calm, almost earnest. “I’m not. Look, I get it. The whole ‘WAG’ thing... it sounds ridiculous, I know. But the way I see it, we’d be a team. You’d have my back, and I’d have yours. No shadows, no expectations, just us. What we make of it.”

She took a step back, crossing her arms as she considered what he was saying. The idea of it felt foreign, a little intimidating, but something about it also felt right in a way she hadn’t expected. No grand gestures, no drama. Just… us, as he’d said.

“Don’t you think I’d look good in a sponsored Channel crop top?” he joked, and the thought of it made her laugh.

Before she could stop it, however, her mind flashed to her brother, to the years of keeping her life private, to the way she had fought so hard to remain in the background of her family’s legacy. And yet here was Franco, offering something different. He wasn’t asking her to be a part of his world—he was offering her a partnership, an equal footing.

For the first time that evening, she allowed herself to truly think about what that might mean. To be seen, not as someone’s sister or someone’s girlfriend, but just as herself.

“Maybe... maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” she said quietly, her voice uncertain but filled with a growing sense of possibility.

Franco looked at her, a quiet confidence in his eyes. “Entonces, we’ll figure it out together. No shadows. Just us.”

“Just us.”

“You better wear my shirt tomorrow,” he said, his voice teasing but hopeful.

She smirked, folding her arms across her chest as she looked at him. “I’ll think about it.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer. “You better. I’ll be watching.”

She laughed, shaking her head at his persistence. “We’ll see.”

The next morning arrived with the usual rush, the anticipation of race day filling the air. She woke up to a sunlit room and a few messages on her phone, the familiar bustle of the paddock already beginning to take shape outside her window. As she moved around the room, preparing for the day ahead, her mind wandered back to the previous evening.

She stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair back into a sleek ponytail, glancing over her outfit choices. She’d packed a nice pair of fitted trousers and a smart blouse for the day. But then, as she opened her suitcase to grab something, she saw it—the shirt.

It was sitting on top of her suitcase, folded neatly, the soft fabric of his team’s shirt catching the light. The sight of it made her pause. She could feel a flutter of uncertainty in her chest as she stared at the shirt. It wasn’t like her to let herself be swayed by someone else’s request. But something about Franco, about the way he’d looked at her, made her reconsider.

She bit her lip, considering her options. The shirt was casual, simple, but it also felt like a statement. She could wear it for him, just this once, maybe just to see how it felt. There was no harm in that, right?

She grabbed the shirt, examining it for a moment. It was an understated design—his team’s logo in the corner, a soft fabric, nothing too flashy. It wasn’t the sort of thing she would normally wear, but for some reason, she felt drawn to it. And then it hit her—maybe it wasn’t about the shirt at all. It was about the confidence to wear it, to stand beside him and let the world see her as she was, without hesitation.

She had a moment of inspiration.

Instead of simply slipping it on with jeans like she’d imagined, she decided to give it a bit of a twist. She styled it with an oversized blazer, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off the shirt underneath, and a pair of high-waisted pants. The look was effortlessly cool, edgy, but still very much her. She paired it with a pair of sleek, minimalist sneakers, and, just before she finished, added a bold red lip to complete the ensemble.

When she looked in the mirror, she felt a sense of pride. It was a simple shirt, yes, but it was her way of wearing it. And somehow, it made her feel like she was making her own mark, not hiding behind anyone else’s expectations.

She grabbed her phone, checking the time, then sent Franco a quick message.

“I thought about it. I’ll wear the shirt. But only because it goes with my outfit.”

She added a playful winking emoji before hitting send, knowing that he’d appreciate the humour in it.

The morning was just beginning to pick up its pace as she finished getting ready. The weight of the day’s events, the race, the energy of the paddock, all began to settle in. But for the first time in a while, she felt a small sense of excitement, an eagerness she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t about the race itself, but about the people she was meeting, the connections she was making, and—perhaps most unexpectedly—what might lie ahead with Franco.

She was just about to head out of her hotel room when there was a knock on the door. She knew that knock—steady and familiar. Taking a deep breath, she opened it to find her brother standing there, his usual calm exterior softened by a quiet intensity in his gaze.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes searching hers.

She nodded, stepping back to let him in. She could tell he was a bit surprised when he saw the shirt she was wearing—the shirt of a rival team. He glanced at it, one brow raised slightly, but he didn’t comment, just closed the door behind him and leaned against the wall.

He took a deep breath, as if he’d been building up to this. “Are you… thinking of seeing him again?”

There was something tentative in the way he asked, a kind of brotherly concern that she hadn’t seen in a long time. She shrugged, trying to keep her tone casual. “Maybe. I’m considering it.”

He nodded slowly, looking away for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then, almost hesitantly, he said, “Why are you okay with being seen with him, and not with me?”

The question landed heavily between them, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to answer. She looked at him, seeing the vulnerability in his expression, the unspoken hurt in his eyes. It was rare for him to open up like this, to say exactly what was on his mind. She let out a long breath, searching for the right words.

“It’s different,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Different how?” he pressed, his tone gentle but persistent.

She met his gaze, feeling a lump rise in her throat. She hadn��t realised just how much this division had affected them both, how much it lingered in moments like these. “I never felt like I was a part of your world,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “It wasn’t just about you. It was Dad, too. He… he made it clear that I wasn’t cut out to be a part of it. I wasn’t… enough. Not like you.”

He looked at her, the quiet hurt in his eyes turning into something deeper, something sadder. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

She gave him a small, sad smile. “How could you? You were busy making him proud. And you were great at it. I always saw how he looked at you, how proud he was of everything you were doing. He saw you as this… continuation of him, of his legacy. But me… I was never part of that.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he processed her words. “I never wanted it to be that way. I thought you just didn’t care about what we were doing. I thought you were happy doing your own thing.”

“I am,” she said, and she meant it. “Tennis is my world; it’s where I feel strong, where I feel like I belong. But… it didn’t come without sacrifices. I grew up watching you and Dad bond over racing, and it was like there was this door between us that was shut for good. I could watch, but I couldn’t be a part of it.”

There was a long pause, her brother absorbing her words, the weight of years of misunderstanding settling between them.

“I wish I’d known,” he said finally, his voice soft, tinged with regret. “I thought… I thought you didn’t want to be a part of it. I thought it didn’t matter to you if Dad and I had that bond. But I get it now. I see what it must’ve felt like, standing on the outside.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken years filling the space between them. And then he added, “You know, you don’t have to keep yourself hidden to be in my life, right? I get it now. But it doesn’t have to be like that.”

Her throat tightened, a wave of unexpected emotion rising within her. She’d spent so long feeling like an outsider in her own family, so sure that her brother had never noticed. But now, here he was, standing in front of her, wanting to bridge that gap.

“It’s hard to just undo it all,” she admitted. “Sometimes, it feels easier to just… stay on my own path. To keep these things separate.”

He nodded, understanding. “But if you’re thinking of seeing Franco… letting yourself be part of his world… doesn’t it mean you’re ready to be seen? To be yourself, even in places that are unfamiliar?”

She considered this, his words striking a chord deep within her. He wasn’t wrong. She’d spent so long hiding parts of herself, keeping herself separate to avoid comparison or judgement. But with Franco, she hadn’t felt the same need. For once, she had felt like she could be herself—no shadows, no expectations.

“I think… I just want to find something that’s mine,” she said finally. “A space where I’m not just ‘your sister,’ where I don’t have to carry someone else’s legacy.”

Her brother gave her a soft, understanding look. “You’ve already done that. You are more than just my sister. You’ve made a name for yourself that has nothing to do with anyone else. You’re not living in anyone’s shadow… but if you ever want to step into our world—my world—I’d like to be part of yours too. Just… let me be there for you, even if it’s only sometimes.”

She nodded, feeling a sense of warmth, a sense of connection that hadn’t been there before. Maybe there was room for both worlds, after all. For the first time, she felt like she didn’t have to choose.

“I’ll think about it,” she said softly, echoing her words from last night.

He smiled, a hint of relief in his eyes. “I hope you do.”

With that, he gave her a quick, reassuring squeeze on her shoulder, a wordless acknowledgment of the unspoken bond they shared. And as he left, she felt a sense of closure, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep running from her family’s legacy to be seen as her own person. She could walk her own path, even if it sometimes crossed into theirs.

She arrived at the paddock a little while later, weaving her way through the bustle of race day, her heart beating a little faster than usual. Wearing Franco’s shirt under her blazer felt like a small, bold choice—one that had her both excited and slightly nervous. She walked through the crowd until she reached his team’s garage, where the energy was already crackling with anticipation.

As soon as she stepped in, Franco spotted her from across the garage. His face lit up the second he saw her, and he immediately started making his way toward her. When he was close enough, he lowered his voice and said in Spanish, a playful gleam in his eyes, “Wait here for just a second. Don’t move.”

Before she could respond, he turned and jogged back toward his driver’s room, leaving her standing in the middle of the garage, a little bewildered but smiling to herself. She watched as he disappeared into the room, curious about whatever he was planning. Within a moment, he was back, holding a bouquet of flowers—a mix of deep red roses and bright sunflowers, their colours vivid against the greys and metallics of the garage.

“For you,” he said, handing them over with a grin, his accent warm and lilting. His eyes softened as he added, “To celebrate your first race day as my guest.”

She took the bouquet, feeling a rush of warmth as she held the flowers. “You know, you didn’t have to do this,” she said, trying to hide the smile tugging at her lips. “I’m just here as… well, just as me.”

“And I think that’s worth celebrating,” he replied smoothly, his gaze locked on hers with unmistakable admiration. “Besides, you didn’t say no to the shirt, so I think I’m allowed a little celebration, no?”

She laughed, her cheeks warming as she looked down at the bouquet. “Alright, fine. You win. Thank you—they’re beautiful.”

Franco glanced around the garage, then leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to a playful murmur. “You know, you’re even more beautiful than I remember from last night. I thought maybe I was exaggerating, but… no. I wasn’t.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “Careful, or I’ll start to think you’re trying to distract me from the race.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, chuckling. Then, as if struck by a sudden idea, he looked around the garage again and spotted one of his engineers nearby. Franco gestured to the man, who quickly nodded, understanding exactly what Franco was after.

The engineer handed him a headset, and Franco turned back to her, holding it up. “Here—so you can listen in and watch from inside the garage. You’ll get the best seat here.”

She blinked, surprised by the gesture. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You’ll get to hear all the comms, see how it all works up close. Plus”—he leaned in, his voice low—“you’ll have an excuse to stay around here.”

She shook her head with a smirk, taking the headset from him. “Alright. But only because you’ve convinced me with flowers and shameless flattery.”

“Good,” he replied, his grin widening as he watched her settle the headset over her ears. “I’ll keep it coming if it means you stay.”

As the team began their pre-race preparations, Franco showed her the best spot to watch from, and he took a few moments to explain some of the technical details. She found herself captivated, not just by the race, but by the way he was so eager to share his world with her. His enthusiasm was infectious, and despite herself, she felt the thrill of race day in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

Before he had to step away to start his own warm-up routine, he gave her one last look, his gaze holding a touch of that familiar mischievous glint. “Enjoy the show, princesa. And don’t go falling in love with the cars now—they’re not as charming as I am.”

She laughed, giving him a playful shove. “No promises.”

Franco winked, backing away with a grin as he joined the other drivers and team members preparing for the race. She stayed in the garage, feeling the weight of the headset and bouquet in her hands, both of them symbols of the way her world had shifted in just a few days.

As she watched him walk away, his words echoing in her ears, she realised just how different today felt. For the first time, she wasn’t just watching as an outsider; she was here, part of the energy, sharing a moment in his world, just as he’d promised. And maybe—just maybe—she was finally ready to be a part of something new.

The race was intense, the roar of engines filling the air as she watched Franco’s car weave through the track, making his way up from P16 to P12, gaining positions one by one with determined precision. Her heart raced with every turn, every overtake. She’d never felt the thrill of Formula One from this close before, and she found herself completely absorbed, balancing her attention between the live race and the screens in the garage that tracked every driver’s progress.

And then, in the final laps, her eyes moved to another part of the screen—a familiar car that was in the lead. A red car. Her brother was out front, defending his position with expert skill, pushing with everything he had toward the finish line. She held her breath, fingers tightening around the edges of the headset as she watched the seconds count down. When he crossed the finish line in first place, a feeling she hadn’t expected washed over her—pride, pure and radiant, filled her chest. She found herself clapping, cheering, a bright smile spreading across her face.

Franco, having just finished his own race and done the mandatory weigh-in and debrief with his engineers, finally found her in the garage. He looked exhausted but happy, his face still flushed from the adrenaline of the race. When he walked over, he paused, noticing the way her eyes were glued to the screen as her brother celebrated his victory, lifting his fists in the air in triumph.

“You’re glowing,” Franco murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched her reaction.

She blinked, glancing back at him and realising how giddy she must look. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think it would feel like this. I’m just… so happy for him.” Her voice was breathless, filled with a genuine joy she couldn’t hide.

He chuckled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “Then you should go to him. He’s probably waiting for you.”

She shook her head, hesitating, her gaze flickering back to the screen. “No, I couldn’t. I don’t… I don’t belong over there, with everyone. That’s his world.”

Franco tilted his head, giving her a knowing look. “Maybe that’s true most days. But today, you belong there just as much as anyone else. He’s your brother. Go celebrate with him. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

She bit her lip, uncertainty still holding her back. “I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

“Start with congratulations,” Franco said, flashing her a gentle, reassuring grin. “Trust me, it’ll be enough.”

He gestured toward the edge of the garage, where the barriers separated the track from the paddock. After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded, taking a shaky breath as he guided her forward. The crowd around them was roaring with excitement as her brother’s car was pulled into parc fermé, fans and teammates celebrating around him. She could feel her heart pounding, each step filling her with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.

At the barrier, Franco gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Go on. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

With that, he released her hand, and she took a step forward, catching sight of her brother through the haze of people and cameras. He was laughing, practically glowing as he embraced his team, still basking in the thrill of his victory. And then, as if sensing her, he turned and saw her standing there, just beyond the barrier.

His expression softened, and a smile broke across his face, one that was filled with surprise and unmistakable happiness. Without a moment’s hesitation, he made his way over, reaching out to pull her into a tight, heartfelt hug. She hugged him back, feeling the last remnants of the old distance between them dissolve as she held her brother close, finally sharing in his moment.

When they pulled apart, he looked at her, pride shining in his eyes. “You came,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet gratitude. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

She laughed softly, tears threatening to sting her eyes. “I wouldn’t have missed it. I’m so proud of you.”

He grinned, leaning in to press a quick, brotherly kiss to her forehead. “Thank you. It means a lot that you’re here. Really.”

As the team around them cheered and the cameras continued to flash, she felt the enormity of the moment—a sense of belonging, not just as a tennis player, or his sister, but as herself.

She grinned at her brother, reaching up to ruffle his hair in a rare show of sibling affection. “Te quiero mucho, hermanito,” she said, her voice filled with warmth and pride. “I’m so proud of you, you know that?”

His smile softened, and he looked at her with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “Te quiero también,” he replied, wrapping her in one last quick hug. “Thank you for being here. Really.”

The moment was brief but profound, a quiet reassurance that, despite the different worlds they had each chosen, they were still connected. He glanced back toward his team, who were waving him over for post-race celebrations and interviews.

“I have to go,” he said, releasing her. “But I’ll see you later?”

“Of course,” she replied, giving him a nod and a small wave as he returned to his crew. She watched him for a moment longer, feeling a sense of pride she hadn’t felt in years—one that was entirely unclouded by the complexities of the past. Then she turned and made her way back toward Franco’s garage, her heart still racing from the intense energy of the day.

When she found him, Franco was waiting near the garage entrance, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a proud smile lighting up his face as he saw her approach.

“You did it,” he said softly, admiration in his eyes. “You finally let yourself be a part of all this.”

As she reached Franco, he turned to face her, his expression softening with a mixture of pride and relief as he took her hands in his. Her heart pounded, the intensity of the day lingering between them like a magnetic pull. She gazed up at him, her breath catching as she saw the warmth in his eyes—the genuine care and admiration there, as if he saw every part of her that she had worked so hard to keep separate.

Without a word, she stepped closer, her hand moving up to rest gently against his cheek. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze searching hers, as if waiting for her to close the last small gap between them. Finally, she leaned up, closing her eyes as her lips met his in a slow, lingering kiss.

The world around them seemed to dissolve, the roar of the crowd and bustle of the paddock fading as the kiss deepened. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, his touch both steady and tender. She felt the warmth of him seep into her, grounding her in the moment, and she responded instinctively, fingers threading through his hair as he held her tighter. There was a gentleness in his touch, but an undeniable passion too, a desire that built slowly between them.

Time slipped away as they shared this unguarded moment, the boundaries she had set for herself crumbling with every heartbeat. She could feel the strength in his arms, the quiet reassurance he offered, and a warmth that sparked through her, as if he was silently promising that he would be there, no matter what.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing a little harder, their foreheads touching as they lingered close, unwilling to step away. Franco’s thumb traced a gentle line along her jaw as he looked into her eyes, his gaze filled with an affection so deep that it nearly overwhelmed her. “I needed that push,” she murmured against his lips.

His arms came around her, but he laughed as he pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Come on,” he said with a teasing glint, “the cameras have probably caught enough kissing for one day.”

She chuckled, letting him lead her back toward the quiet of his garage, away from the noise and eyes of the crowd. For the first time, she felt an undeniable sense of belonging—not just to the world she had worked so hard to create for herself, but to this moment, with him, with her family. She’d finally allowed herself to be part of it all, and it felt right in a way she hadn’t expected.

the end.

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #williams #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto x yn #williams f1 #williams racing #williams formula 1 #f1 social media au #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #ann speaks #formula 1 #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic

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tojirights · 9 months ago

Note

❛ you taste like heaven. ❜

Alastor with angel!reader omg. I imagine that reader was Alastor's wife back when they were alive, but didn't see eachother again after death because Alastor is in hell and reader is in heaven. I imagine that after Sir Pentious got redeemed, Sera sent reader (because she has experience with demons(? Ur choice) and Sera trusts her a lot) down to hell to investigate this 'hazbin hotel'.

a/n: AHHHH i almost didnt want to write smut into this because it was so precious 😭 ooc alastor again but its so CUTE. i added my "alastor speaks french" agenda to this as well lol.

buy me a coffee? 😇

tags: 18+ smut nsfw, fem! receiving oral

heaven was in shambles after the last extermination, no one knew what would happen next now that souls could be redeemed from hell. it was then that sera approached you in private, all but begging you to go be an "ambassador." you were hesistant at first, not only thinking that this was a lot of responsibility, but also that your... husband had to be down there. he wasn't a "good man" after all, but your heart still fluttered at the thought of seeing him once more. with a sigh, you accept sera's plea and prepare for your trip down to the hazbin hotel.

there to greet you, was charlie morningstar herself, bright eyed and bubbly just like you heard all about. she leads you into the foyer of the hotel before you stop dead in your tracks. charlie is still speaking a mile a minute in your ear, trying to welcome you as best she can, but you're not listening. your eyes meet alastor's, immediately recognizing him even in this new form of his. and when his smile almost fades, you know he recognizes you too.

there's another brief pause before you're running towards him, your wings unfurling on their own as you're quickly wrapped up in his embrace. the other inhabitants of the hotel watch, confused, seeing as alastor hasn't really let anyone but niffty get close enough to touch him, let alone embrace him. your wings fluff up and cover your faces as you lean up to kiss your estranged partner. "oohh, sweetheart.." he sighs against your lips. "its been..."

you smile between kisses, your heart racing in your chest. "too long." you finish his sentence, earning a chuckle from the demon. his lips kiss a trail to your ear, a low growl to his voice as he whispers to you. "you taste like heaven, darling." your cheeks go red, not quite prepared for such a comment, especially in front of company. "alastor!" you hiss, hitting his chest gently but he just pulls you closer in response.

finally, he addresses the group behind you who are all standing with their jaws hanging open. "now, if you're all done gawking, i believe my wife needs to be shown around..."

husk spits out his drink as alastor speaks, covering angel in alcohol. "your WHAT!?" you hide your face as calamity ensues, everyone trying to speak over eachother at the insane news. "your wife... is an angel?" charlie asks gently, trying to get to the bottom of this. "well, i couldn't have known for sure but she was always more a saint than i." alastor hums, running his hand down your back. you shudder when he touches your wings, to which he notes in his head for later.

"o-oh! well then! i guess you should show her around, yeah?" she smiles bashfully, still taken aback by everything happening since your arrival just a few minutes ago. you look up at alastor, your cheeks aching from smiling so wide. "i think i'd like that." you whisper to him, enjoying the way he pulls you closer to him. "hold on tight then, my love."

you're not sure what he means by that until you're slipping into the shadows with him. its an odd feeling, but you don't think much of it until you're reappearing in what you assume is his bedroom. alastor is careful with you, like he's afraid the wrong touch will burn you, but he craves the feeling of your bare skin against his hands more than he can admit. you smile, reaching your hands up to cup his face. "touch me, al. i'm not fragile..."

your words light a spark deep within him, forcing him to restrain himself from ripping your pretty clothes into tatters. he groans inwardly, large hands reaching around to pick you up before fumbling his way to the bed. "corrupting an angel wasn't on my bucket list until seeing you again, my dear." his tone, its not what you're used to hearing, but that gravelly undertone shoots straight through you. "oh please, you can't corrupt me more than you already have." alastor's lips find the sensitive skin of your neck and you feel him smirk.

"i hope that's not a challenge." he tests, tugging at the hem of your dress. you all but giggle, lifting up so alastor can free your body of clothes. "and what if is it?" you challenge, knowing full well that alastor wouldn't let your teasing continue without proper punishment. his eyes darken red, and there's a tinge of fear in your gut. because this may still be alastor, but its been quite a while, you don't know how he's changed.

but as he kisses down your stomach, you're reassured that the man you married is still there somewhere, underneath this 'radio demon' persona. "your lips tasted of heaven, mon amour, does this taste so sweet as well?" alastor's words alone are enough are enough to make you whimper, then the feeling of his hot breath against your clothed cunt makes your core pulse.

your hands naturally fall to the top of his head, feeling the softness of his ears and the rough points of his antlers. "c-can i..?" you start, timidly holding onto the horns. alastor's body shudders as he shoves his face into your thigh. "yes, ma chérie. please do." he breathes, tugging on the thin fabric of your panties until they rip in half.

alastor wants to be patient, wants to treat you like the angel you are, but he is a demon after all. and he hasn't gotten such a delicious meal in far too long. after he feels your grip tighten on his antlers, he lets loose his self control. his first taste of your sweet pussy sends him into a frenzy, eating you like a man starving. his tongue swipes up your slit before circling your clit in quick flicks. your legs are shaking already, breathy moans leaving your lips with reckless abandon.

there's a part of you that is concerned to be getting your cunt ate by a demon, but this demon was your husband, after all. sera made you come down here and you might as well enjoy yourself, right?

your hips arch up, craving more and more, and alastor is happy to oblige. "this is heaven, my dear. not some palace in the sky, but here, between your legs." your eyes well with tears, overwhelmed in more ways than one. every pass of his tongue has your release teetering on the edge while his sweet words make your heart flutter. its almost too much, and when alastor sucks on your clit, your walls burst.

"a-alastor i'm..." you mewl, every nerve on your body screaming as your orgasm rolls over you. you're almost sure you're hurting him by how hard you tug at his hair, but alastor doesn't stop. the intensity is something you've not experienced in many, many years, and the tears stream down your cheeks. alastor coaxes you through it, licking slow and soft circles around your sensitive bud until your shaking stops.

he's quick to climb up, wiping the tears from your puffy eyes. "such a good girl, mon amour. there's plenty more where that came from."

#alastor x reader #alastor hazbin #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel smut #alastor x you smut #alastor x reader smut #alastor x reader imagines #hazbin alastor imagines #hazbin alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor imagines

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meowzfordayz · 10 months ago

Text

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Author’s Note: pls and ty enjoy this tidbit of crack-fluff. 😆💖

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Hashira x Reader

Word Count: ~1,600

CW: explicit language, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Suggestion Fulfilled: Can we get all hashira accidently touch y/n's breast

~faqs~

Fyi, “chest” means boob. I was just worried Tumblr would block this post from tags if I included “boob” in the title lmao. 😉

Shocked 😳😖

“I apologize, [y/n]-san, it won’t happen again!”

Gyomei’s nearly in tears, he feels so terribly 😞

“These things happen!” you promptly assure him, “Besides, you technically won the bout.”

No need to mention that he always wins when training together 🥲

“I cannot accept such a tainted victory.”

“Himejima-san, though I appreciate your concern and respect, there’s truly no issue.”

Meanwhile, Gyomei’s rethinking his entire Breathing Style to ensure he never accidentally touches anyone’s boob(s) again 💀

In cold disbelief 😐😐😐

If you don’t say anything, then he won’t say anything

Alternatively, if you do say something, then Obanai will immediately curl up into a ball and die

Spends the rest of his day recalling the fleeting warmth of your breast

He swears his hand doesn’t even get cold, so affected by the heat of your bosom

Your boob must be ✨magical✨

“Iguro-san,” you call out gently, noting his dazed stare, his dinner untouched while he sits crossed legged, “Is something on your mind?”

“No.” 😐😐😐

Well okay then 🙃

“About what happened earlier…”

🫨🫨🫨 <— Obanai is FREAKING OUT

“… Iguro-san, I didn’t mind.”

And then you stand up, take your dishes, and leave

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEEEAAAN?!?!?!

Good luck finding Obanai tomorrow 🫡 (the poor man’s been pleasantly overwhelmed)

He’ll avoid you for eternity now 😌 (not really, but at least until he can breathe around you again)

She giggles 🤭

Lol

“Oh my! [y/n]-san, I didn’t mean to touch you so intimately!” 😅

“No worries, it happens.”

Your face may or may not be burning up a storm, but that’s okay!

Mitsuri’s blushing too

A lot 😳

“I hope I didn’t hurt you?!”

Because like, What if I gripped too hard?! 😭

She’s well aware of her own strength

“You barely brushed me, Kanroji-san. I promise!”

Phew!

She grins, relief evident as she bumps her elbow against yours

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? I would be so embarrassed!!!”

“Kanroji-san, our secret is safe with me.”

I wish it would happen again… <— lowkey both of you thinking the same thing 🤪

As a medical personnel (among other roles), Shinobu accidentally (or even on purpose, depending on where you’re wounded) touching your boob isn’t entirely unreasonable nor unrealistic

Obviously it would be nicer if she was caressing you out of love and affection 😔

And not methodically cleansing then bandaging claw marks that just so happened to cross over your chest 😒

“You should make a full recovery,” she’s all business, “The demon avoided your nipple and didn’t puncture deep enough to affect the functionality of your breast,” fortunately, you’re too exhausted to be embarrassed by her bluntness, “It has a nice shape. I’m glad you survived.”

EXCUSE ME WHAT?!?!?! 😃🫠

Now you’re kinda embarrassed

More so preening, really 🤭

It’s like when a doctor randomly compliments the rhythm of your heart or some other characteristic from a mainly professional POV, but you’re still caught off guard because who tf compliments someone’s kidneys or bowels movements or?????

In your pain hazed delusion, you briefly contemplate somehow getting your other boob injured too… gotta make sure you’re matching in (nice) shape, y’know? 😌

Kyojuro can be discreet, albeit more so for your sake than his

“I APOLOGIZE! I DID NOT MEAN TO TOUCH YOUR BREAST!” <— how he could react 💀

“Pardon my slip, are you okay?” <— how he actually reacts, because he isn’t entirely lacking in social awareness and decorum 😆

“Oh,” you don’t mean to squeak, but it can’t be helped when the most handsome man you’ve ever known just casually grazed your boob, “I’m fine! Totally fine! Haha!” 🫨😵‍💫🫠

You’ve gotta be more convincing than that, or Kyojuro will never forgive himself 😕

He’s a lil oblivious when it comes to physical attraction

Not like, infantly so, but given this particular circumstance?

He doesn’t realize you’re flustered; he assumes you’re mortified 😖

“You sound decidedly less than fine.”

He’s softer now, worried about startling you 🥺

“I was surprised! But don’t worry! I’m not worried!”

Okaaay, but he’s worried 🥲

“Is there any way I could make amends for my indiscretion?”

Not only is he handsome, but he is such a gentleman 😭😍

“Rengoku-san, there are no amends to be made, I promise. I’m not mad, nor do I feel unhappy or unsafe. I forgive you.”

Your regaining of the ability to speak in complete sentences greatly reassures him 😮‍💨😁

“Ah. Well. I am grateful for your kindness and understanding. It will not happen again.”

…

Hold up 🧐

Why does she seem… she seems… disappointed? Should I have said it will happen again??

You’ve suddenly given Kyojuro something quite pleasant to ponder 🤔

After all, he isn’t entirely oblivious 😉

“Are you going to apologize?” Sanemi demands

“For what?” you screech

“For touching my hand with your boob!”

Your eyes roll, “Oh fuck off!”

“I didn’t ask to touch you,” he grunts

“I wouldn’t have given you permission anyway,” you retort 😒

Arms crossing over his bare chest, Sanemi scoffs, “Well I didn’t give mine either!”

“You’re ridiculous. It was an accident.”

You seem genuinely pissed 😬

Sanemi rethinks his approach

“You know I’m joking, right?” 😅

“Nooo,” your sarcasm cuts deep, “I thought you were flirting.” 😐

Uh 😀

Well 😃

Shit 😄

“Fuck you!”

When in doubt, curse ‘em out 💀

You scowl, confusion lingering as your blood boils, “Fuck you!”

“I said it first.” 🙄

You stalk away, fed up with his antics

#man child #sort of #romantically inept is more like it

As tends to happen with epiphanies, yours doesn’t hit until you’re almost asleep

“WAS THAT MOTHERFUCKER FLIRTING WITH ME???!” 😳🥴😭

Best believe Shinazugawa Sanemi is about to have a Lesson 101 in flirting asap 😤😎

(assuming you’re older, like, mentor age to Muichiro)

Neither of you make a fuss about it

It’s like accidentally calling your teacher mom 😬

Or grabbing a random person’s hand in the supermarket thinking they’re your parent 🫣

Embarrassing, but not a huge deal — unless you make it one

There’re those three seconds of slow motion Uhh and What just happened and Oops 🫠

And then time speeds up to normal again, you have a quick conversation with your eyes (gosh forbid you speak and bring the unspoken into reality 💀), and it’s over

^^ Alternatively, if Muichiro initiates a conversation to clear the air, then you’re able to have a mature and concise chat that is respectfully and patiently resolved

Embarrassing/accidental encounters are part of growing up

As long as they can be navigated ~safely, there shouldn’t be any lasting harm

⚠️I also want to emphasize that I am talking solely on inarguably accidental/one time incidences⚠️

Hehehe

Giyuu’s hand is stuck 🫣

Only for like, a fleeting second

But omg 😭

He was already embarrassed, and now he’s triply embarrassed 🫠🫠🫠

“... Tomioka-san?”

You won’t lie; you aren’t especially bothered 🤭

But it is a compromising position to be caught in; Giyuu lowkey crushing you, one of his palms clearly cupping your boob 😬

#wrestling #or something #so maybe this isn’t super realistic #forgive me

You’re about to repeat his name when he finally springs to life, immediately rolling off you, standing abruptly, about to literally sprint away

And then he remembers his manners 🙃

He offers you a hand

His other hand; his boob hand is currently tucked away in his haori

He’s never washing it again

#closet perv

“Thanks,” you smile faintly, accepting his assistance as you lift yourself from the ground

You hope he can’t hear your heartbeat 💓

He definitely can 😶

But can you hear his?

“I don’t think we should train together anymore.”

Giyuu is swift and harsh with his solutions

“Why?”

Your question comes out stiffer than intended

He hesitates, unable to interpret the fear in your tone — the longing

“I always beat you,” he explains lamely, “Don’t you get tired of losing?”

You scoff cheerfully, grinning now as you squeeze his hand

Fuck, we were still holding hands?! <— Giyuu is in shambles 😳

“I could never lose!” you declare, feelings brimming in your throat, spilling onto your tongue, “Not when I’m with you.”

Then we should absolutely stop training together would be the responsible reaction

Attachments are the most dangerous game for a Hashira to play 😕

Instead, Giyuu’s rendered speechless, unable to shake his hand from yours

“Well alright then,” he mutters, stomach churning as he narrowly avoids the warmth in your gaze

In fact, you swear he squeezes back 💓

“EXCUSE ME! I HAVE A WIFE!” 😤😤😤

“You have three wives.” 🙄

Sputtering, Tengen shrieks, “I already have plenty of breasts to touch!”

“Tengen,” you glare, not one to back down as you jab a finger into his own chest, “You touched my boob.” 😒

“AND I’M SORRY!” 😭

Much better 😌

“I don’t know what they see in you,” you scoff (you’re also lying, you can see plenty🤭), “They’re gorgeous… and you freak out when you accidentally touch a boob.” 💀

Tengen is 100% pouting now

“I don’t freak out when I touch their boobs,” he huffs

“Well aren’t they lucky.” 😐

“You could be lucky too!”

…

Tengen starts running

You give chase

“DID YOU TALK TO THEM ABOUT THIS?”

Tengen runs faster

“TENGEN!!!!!”

Tengen runs faster and faster

You give up

*insert gasping for air here*

“DO YOUR WIVES KNOW THEY’RE MARRIED TO A COWARD???!!!”

Oh well, you’ll have to visit their estate sometime this week 🙃

You’re sure to get an answer from Hina, Makio, and Suma ☺️

And you can’t wait to see more of Tengen 😏😋

Sorry, sometimes the horny just happens 🥴

#hashira x reader #headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #gyomei x reader #obanai x reader #mitsuri x reader #shinobu x reader #kyojuro x reader #sanemi x reader #muichiro x reader #giyuu x reader #tengen x reader

5K notes · View notes

ham1lton · 5 months ago

Text

if we were a movie.

pairings: charles leclerc x actress!reader.

faceclaim: zendaya <3

summary: need for speed, out in cinemas feb 31st 2026, follows emma, a coffee shop owner, who falls in love with christopher, a formula one driver. the film's marketing manager decides to take you and your co-stars to the next f1 race where you meet the original inspiration for christopher and maybe, find a love story of your own.

author's note: hi. this was the most voted post on the poll so i hope you enjoy it! don't forget to read until the end so you can vote on the next post! also shout out to ms hannah montana for this banger which inspired the title!

FEEDBACK + REQUESTS. TIP JAR. MASTERLIST. TAGLIST.

❛･━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━･❜

liked by yourbestie, charles_leclerc and 2,928,927 others.

yourusername: days on set with these losers. thank god i get free and unlimited coffee!!!

view all 283,838 comments

nicholasgalitzine: who is that sexy guy in the last pic 😍

-> yourusername: taylor 😍

user3: yn did they make u cry?? 😭

-> yourusername: i laughed so hard i cried 😔

user8: if nicholas is supposed to be charles, who is taylor supposed to be? also why is he going blond? charles is a brunet 😭

-> user10: evil carlos 😭 in the original plot, charles gets with emma and to ‘bring him down’, carlos exposes the relationship thinking that it would make charles lose goodwill with his fans which would then be bad pr for ferrari. so he does it so that he can be the first driver.

-> user8: thats so insane 💀

-> user10: girl its a fanfiction, that’s why 😭 also in the published version, they changed charles’ name to christopher, made him british and gave him blond hair to lessen any comparisons to charles. i mean, there is only one monegasque driver on the grid rn.

-> user8: that makes sense lowkey. also i love blond nicholas so its a win for me!

❛･━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━･❜

liked by charles_leclerc, ynfan1 and 248,973 others.

needforspeedupdates: our protagonists were at the most recent grand prix in austin! nicholas met with race car driver charles leclerc! <3

tagged: yourusername nicholasgalitzine charles_leclerc

view all 10,728 comments

user9: omg did you guys see charles run away from yn??

-> user5: she seemed so hurt omg :(((

-> user7: i thought he had a crush on her? maybe he was being awkward. i know people have done worse in front of their crushes 🤷🏼‍♀️

-> user5: i know but still. poor yn :(((

user23: last pic….. EIFFEL TOWER WHEN?!

-> user1: i need them both biblically.

❛･━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━･❜

liked by ynupdates, charlesfan1 and 639,683 others

ham1ltonshaderoom: actress and it girl yn yln was spotted out to lunch with formula one star charles leclerc at a brunch cafe in austin. leclerc has formally stated that yln was his celebrity crush many times and witnesses say they spotted them looking ‘very cozy’ at lunch. one onlooker said that charles was very ‘apologetic’ at the beginning but yn had clearly forgiven him by the end of the outing. what do you think ham1ltons?

view all 20,728 comments

user1: yn would be the most iconic wag ever.

-> user7: like come on now. this would be so cute. i can already imagine her fits.

ynhater: as if he’d date her 😒

-> user6: as if he’d date YOU 😭😭😭

user5: i think they’re so cute but it’s probably just a friendship thing. i mean… he’s the original person that chris was based off of so it’s probably pr or something.

-> user2: no i agree. 100% pr.

user4: no offence but i just don’t see it. i mean… he’s not ugly? but it’s yn.

-> user9: ?? and he’s thee charles leclerc. idk why you’re shocked. they’re both young, famous and attractive.

user34: yn be wary girl…. you know how these athletes be.

user98: charles man… how can you date a girl who’s job it is to kiss other guys lol 🤢

user55: but how was her hair blonde before and now it’s brunette?

-> user89: could have been a wig or extensions to get the blonde? this is her natural hair!

❛･━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━･❜

liked by ynswifey, charles_leclerc and 829,928 others

needforspeedupdates: yn was on good morning america to promote the film, which is out this week! she spoke about her forage into formula one. i’ll transcribe the clip attached!

interviewer: you’ve obviously dipped your toes into formula one before as you’ve been friends with lewis hamilton for a while, right?

yn: you’d think so! but i actually hadn’t. i was similar to emma in a lot of ways. both of us obsessed with coffee and clueless about motorsports! i did meet up with a friend who promised to teach me more. so that’s a bonus!

view all 9,728 comments

user7: she HAS to mean charles by the friend. lewis had already been mentioned so she would have said his name.

-> user8: charles’ rizz is just asking girls if they wanna look at his car.

-> user3: he’s lucky he’s got that pretty face 😭

user9: CHARLES WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE 😭

-> user1: not him snooping in the likes 😭😭

charleshater1: how about we ship her with an attractive driver like lewis or carlos. this is disrespectful to her brand.

-> user45: girl SHUT UP 😭

❛･━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━･❜

liked by yourusername, taylorzakharperez and 1,828,233 others.

nicholasgalitzine: the feeling when your bestie gets a f1 boyfriend so you have unlimited paddock passes.

view all 238,829 others

user1: DID HE JUST EXPOSE CHARLESYN 😭

-> user2: all those secret meetings and shit only to be exposed by a twink 😭

-> user3: he is nawt a twink. he’s too muscular. get your terminology right.

user4: NOOOOOOOOOO PLEASE SAY THIS IS PR

user5: i don’t believe this. yn is so notoriously private about her relationships that i doubt she’d like a post that is exposing her.

user6: i want nicholas, taylor, yn AND charles 🤷🏼‍♀️

-> user7: this is the kind of greed they warned about in the bible.

taylorzakharperez: yes guys. i am dating an f1 driver. sorry to burst your bubble.

-> landonorris: it’s me :D

-> user8: lando dating taylor is less believable than true famous f1 couple taylor and fernando.

user9: PLEASE SOMEONE JUST TELL ME IF THEY’RE DATING I CAN’T DO ALL THIS SPECULATION ANYMOREEEEEE

❛･━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━･❜

liked by ynswifey, charlesfan1 and 789,827 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: bad day for fans of actress yn yln! as she is seen strolling with her alleged boyfriend, f1 driver charles leclerc, in the streets of london. the new couple are very much boo’d up after the release of her newest rom com ‘need for speed’ that is taking the box office by storm. according to family and friends, the couple is very much ‘in love’ and excited to see where the future will take them. how do we feel about this new couple ham1ltons?

view all 34,737 comments

user1: hate them!

user2: LOVE THEM 😍

user6: HER HAND AROUND HIS WAIST OMG

-> user7: charles is yn’s wife.

-> user8: STOP IM SO JEALOUS OF HIM

user3: are you sure this isn’t just pr? i mean… come on now. she does a film about a f1 driver. now she’s dating one. it could all just be a pr relationship to drum up interest for the film.

-> user4: or… they could actually be into each other?

-> user3: i won’t believe it until one of them post about it.

user5: months of speculation but neither of them have said a thing or been at a public event together. i mean… nicholas has been at more f1 races than yn 😭

user9: lewis is influencing charles already with the cuppa in london.

-> user10: y’know yn likes a london boy 😍

❛･━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━･❜

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,927,938 others

charles_leclerc: happy birthday to the funniest, prettiest and most incredible girl in the world. thank you for sharing your world with me. i hope to stay with you forever. 💕

tagged: yourusername.

view all 348,838 comments

user1: OMG ITS OFFICIAL

lewishamilton: so happy for you both! 💐

-> charles_leclerc: thank you lewis! wouldn’t have been possible without you.

-> user5: 1644 aka MY goats

user2: THIS IS SO CUTE IM JUMPING INTO THE SEA

yourusername: i love you <3

-> charles_leclerc: i love you more.

landonorris: BOO I HATE COUPLES

-> taylorzakharperez: 😔

-> landonorris: doesn’t apply to us sweetcheeks 😘

-> taylorzakharperez: 😍

nicholasgalitzine: thank god. tired of being yn’s excuse to attend f1 games.

-> yourusername: you loved it really don’t lie.

-> nicholasgalitzine: 🤭😏

maxverstappen1: does this mean the groupchat can be dismantled?

-> charles_leclerc: no :)

-> pierregasly: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

user3: WE WON!!!!

user4: NOOOOO YN PLEASE DATE ME!!!! I CAN DRIVE FAST TOO 😭😭 WHAT DOES HE HAVE THAT I DONT 😭😭😭

❛･━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━･❜

— taglist: @23victoria @maxlarens @m1892 @stinkyjax @yelenasloverrrrr @tsireyasgf @landososcar @ourlifeforchaos @itseightbeats @xylinasdiary @chelle1306 @velentine @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @f1kenzzz @lavisenri @namgification @hiireadstuff @km-23mr @theblueblub @lifeless-firefly @papayadays @maxverstappendefender @assholeinatrenchcoat @liberty-barnes @starz4me1 @mvk1ma @dear-fifi @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @whyamireadingthis @halleest @rlalliehayes @flowergirl1134 @s4misbetter @llando4norris @chezmardybum @isthatacandle (want to be tagged for future works? fill out my new taglist!)

1K notes · View notes

maplesyrupsainz · 6 months ago

Text

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙feels like | PG10˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: pierre gasly x leclerc!singer!reader (she/her) x kika gomes

genre: social media au, polyamory

warnings: polyamory

summary: in which you meet the loves of ur life in the form of ur brother's best friend and his girlfriend

a/n: u've all been begging for this pairing HAHAH im finally delivering 🙏

request!!!: charles little sister and she doesn't really go to his races that often because she's a singer but she finally does and she hangs with kika & gets a crush on her & meets pierre & develops feelings for him too so then they finally get together and try to drop subtle hints but everyone just thinks they r good friends

my masterlist

fc: gracie abrams

instagram ->

ynupdates

liked by arthur_leclerc, user41, and others

ynupdates y/n seen today outside the airport in florence, italy !!

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

user1 hi arthur in the likes lol

user2 her biggest fan

user3 is she going to imola????

user4 omg 👀

user5 Y/N AT A RACE??!!

user6 omg i hope she's finally coming to a race we barely ever see her there

user7 i miss her

user8 welcome back to f1 y/n 😻

user9 why does she never go to races omgg

user10 she goes to most big ones imo but she's busy with her own career

user11 y/n and charles content i beg

user12 nah y/n and the other drivers content plsss 🙏

yourusername posted a story

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, and others

user13 awwwwww omg

user14 so cute

charles_leclerc hanging out with my girlfriend before you even see me? okay!

yourusername get over it

user15 are u coming to imola 🙈

user16 see u at the race y/n 👀

alexandrasaintmleux my fav leclerc 😘

liked by yourusername

user17 imola imola imola

twitter ->

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by francisca.cgomes, arthur_leclerc, and others

user18 omggg is that kika

user19 kikayn the duo i didnt know i needed

charles_leclerc y/n please

yourusername im coming im coming

user20 this duo actually makes so much sense

user21 i love women

user22 need her to meet pierre i just know they'd get along they all got the same vibes

user23 im gay

twitter ->

instagram ->

f1wagupdates

liked by user18, user31, user4, and others

f1wagupdates pierre gasly and girlfriend kika gomes have been seen multiple times over the past few weeks with ‘i miss you, im sorry’ singer & sister of charles leclerc, y/n leclerc. they appear to have become good friends since their alleged first meeting in imola, but sources report some suggestive interactions including all three of them.

tagged: pierregasly, francisca.cgomes, yourusername

view all comments

user26 suggestive interactions...????

user27 omg obsessed with this trio lol

user28 the friendship we never knew we needed 😻

user29 what suggestive interactions lol it's TOO VAGUE!!! give us more

user30 i bet charles loves this 😂

user31 the first piccccc omg y/n and kika cuddling and pierre is just there

user32 y/n and kika tgthr is just so cunty

user33 someone ask charles what he thinks 😂

francisca.cgomes

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, and others

francisca.cgomes 🌷 lil dump

tagged: pierregasly, yourusername

view all comments

user34 OMG hellooo y/n

user35 the last pic hahah so cuntyyy

user36 ugh OBSESSED with this trio

user37 i wish i was them

landonorris ugh set me up with y/n please kika

francisca.cgomes now why the hell would i do that

pierregasly not happening, sorry lando

landonorris ??? wtf why not

francisca.cgomes she's OURS

yourusername 😂😂

user38 sus

user39 ???? what is going awnnn

user40 SUSSSSSS

yourusername awww pierre in his lil suit 👔

pierregasly awww y/n with her lil lollypop 🍭

francisca.cgomes 🙄

user41 what is even happening lol

yourusername posted a story

liked by francisca.cgomes, charles_leclerc, and others

charles_leclerc y/n

yourusername hi charlie

charles_leclerc maman misses you

yourusername is that code for u & arthur miss me 🤨

charles_leclerc perhaps...

yourusername lol i'll come visit home soon

francisca.cgomes leak it to me

yourusername 🤫 all in good time!

pierregasly about me?

yourusername in ur dreams

pierregasly 👀

user42 OMG

user43 new music new music new music

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername 📍 monaco

liked by pierregasly, francisca.cgomes, and others

yourusername & i would do whatever u wanted

tagged: francisca.cgomes, pierregasly

view all comments

user44 urmmm is that lyrics

user45 yea omg look at the notebook she's holding up

user46 this is what it feels like????

user47 drop the song

user48 love this friendship

francisca.cgomes love you gorgeous

yourusername love you sm

charles_leclerc ❤️

liked by yourusername

user49 ???

pierregasly met you at the right time

yourusername 👀

user50 ok what's going on

user51 ????

user52 wot

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, and others

yourusername jus dropped my new song ‘feels like’. the girls that get it, get it... thank u for ur unwavering support always 🫶

view all comments

user53 who else here is a girl that (finally) gets it

liked by yourusername

user54 get what😭😭😭

user55 SHE'S DATING THEM

user56 the hard hard launch i never knew i needed

charles_leclerc ❤️

yourusername love you

arthur_leclerc ❤️

yourusername ❤️ my biggest fan

arthur_leclerc always

user57 oh i love them sm

user58 i would do whatever you wanted we dont have to leave the apartment 😭

user59 MET YOU AT THE RIGHT TIME‼️

francisca.cgomes mon cœur 💓

yourusername oh i love you

francisca.cgomes 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

user60 best girls omg

pierregasly world's sexiest leclerc!

yourusername i hold this title loudly & proudly

charles_leclerc 🙄

user61 😂 pierre is so real for this

user62 oh the song is soso beautiful

pierregasly

liked by yourusername, francisca.cgomes, and others

pierregasly livin in a movie i've watched and...

tagged: yourusername, francisca.cgomes

view all comments

user63 FUNNY CAUSE I COULDNT HAVE CALLED IT!!???

user64 omggg

user65 this is a true love story frrr

user66 AHHHH I LOVE THEM SO BAD

charles_leclerc photo creds for the last pic!!

pierregasly ofc charles 😘

charles_leclerc dont flirt with me too

yourusername 😂😂 have a day off!

arthur_leclerc ily guys

francisca.cgomes oh hello fav leclerc brother

arthur_leclerc 😀

yourusername ily art

charles_leclerc 🙄

yourusername i met u both at the right time 😭

francisca.cgomes thank u imola paddock 🤩🤩🤩

pierregasly our place 🙏🙏🙏🙏

user67 omg.. OBSESSED!!!

THE END 🥹🩷

1K notes · View notes

fillinforlater · 8 months ago

Text

Eleven to One: Hotel Roommating

Male Reader x Ahn Yujin, Choi Yena, Kim Minju, Kim Chaewon

Length: 2014 words

Tags: Daddy kink, thigh kink, thigh fucking, pit licking, teasing, a slap, edging, cumming on skin, pet play, an offer you definitely should refuse but kinda can't, cum eating, missionary, fingering, orgy

TW: the usual, but I would consider this mostly tame... okay, maybe also not LOL

Inspiration: Yujin's outfit (check below (HOLY COW))

(A/N: Sex in the hotel continues... though it might not be the best or longest piece, I promise the ending will make it worth while ;) Have fun!)

“Room Service!"

For a second there, she got you. Fear runs down your back, ice cold, as you grab the door handle. No room service could ever be allowed to see or smell the absolute mess you made here. Especially Chaewon, who leaks down the phallic plastic onto the table, while watching a teary eyed Minju follow you to the door, your cock in her hand.

Fortunately, you do recognize the voice behind the door. It’s familiar, not some room service lady that could ruin your life and the reputation of at least one popular girl group. You turn the knob and reach for the woman behind the door in the blink of an eye.

“You scared me for a second, you fucking brat,” you yell at Yujin, but that was before you took a look at her outfit. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood right now.”

“Oh, I’m in a good mood too, Daddy,” Yujin teases and gets ready to kick off her shoes, open up her dress and offer herself to you (you know she is in heat; she has been for a while most likely), but you stop her.

“You keep that outfit on,” you order and spin her around. “My cock needs to be in between your thighs while you still look like a Goddess of fertility with that shiny, stupid fucking outfit.”

“Oh Daddy,” Yujin giggles and watches your tip glide in her tight gap. “Wasn’t Minju enough for you? And what happened to Chaewon-unnie?”

“Care to guess?”

“She is one of us now?”

You smirk and lean in to bite your girlfriend’s neck. “One hundred points.” You begin to slowly thrust in between the sweaty trunks that are Yujin’s legs, perfect sculptures of smooth marble, but a lot softer and infinitely more valuable. Yujin hums in pleasure and lifts her arms to reach around your neck while you continue to place marks on hers. There is no concert the next few days, so no one will notice the love bites you place on her.

“Minju, mind helping me out here?” you suddenly ask and Minju jumps in surprise. You know she is still needy, unsatisfied, but would never touch herself without your permission, so you want to give her a bit of a reward. “Lick our Daeng-Daeng’s pits clean. I promise you, she tastes wonderful.”

“O-okay, Daddy.”

You can see in her eyes that Minju has never done this before. It’s a waste though, so you pull at her strings (she is a good girl after all) and take into view how incredible she looks. Minju sticks out her tongue and drags it across the entire pit. Yujin trembles, her thighs gently swaying around your shaft. An incredible feeling, but what makes it exceptionally great is the lewd sounds the two produce. Tender moans, wet licks, soft bodies rubbing one another to the point where nothing could be more intimate.

“D-does it tickle, Yujinie?” Minju asks when she switches sides, her hands secretly placed on your own. You both have a hold on the young woman’s hips and Minju’s question goes unanswered when she goes straight to sucking on the opposite sensitive, hairless, sweaty spot.

Holding back would be offensive. There are the two best thighs wrapped around you, while Minju’s soft belly becomes a home for your tip. With every thrust you poke her and she seems to really enjoy it. Maybe she is—no, she definitely is—thinking that you are pointing at her fertile womb, ready to be filled and bred. That’s why her orbs sparkle the way they do, that’s why she pulls you two into a threeway hug where Yujin gets squeezed and overstimulated at spots she didn’t think could be this sensitive.

“D-Daddy, I thought you were teasing,” Yujin mumbles. “But I feel so good, so hot. Please, cum on me, paint my milky thighs, it would fit them so well.”

“I can feel you melting, baby girl.” You lean in to give her ear a love bite, with all your love and sufficient force to make her dizzy with pleasure. “Since you asked so nicely, I will cover you, claim you with my seed.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” A sudden make-out session ensues after Yujin lowers her arms, leaving Minju jobless and needy as ever. There is salty sweat around her lips and in her mouth while she watches you and Yujin trade sweat saliva in heated passion. Your cock is buried in her gap, then quickly peaks out again as you begin to rapidly fuck it. “I can’t believe you got Chaewon-unnie already. Was it really that easy?”

You both turn your head to the shivering, squeaking but not (yet) dildo-riding Chaewon, whose head might be in even more heat than Yujin. Her face is red like the ball gag in her mouth and the only thing cooling her off are a few tears from her unfocused eyes. You love that she looks so obedient and pathetic, far away from what she dreamed off. Yet you decide to be more than merciful.

“Minju, how about you put your hands on Chaewon’s hips? Maybe let some of Yujin’s sweat run down her cheeks? I think that should cool her off.”

“Okay, Daddy~”

With a sight like that—Minju behind Chaewon, who desperately looks up to the taller girl, hips in a firm, loving hold; then, Minju drools all over her face and you know that Chaewon is on cloud six, maybe seven, more pleasure yet to come—your orgasm is rapidly approaching. You bend Yujin over a bit, press her thighs back to you to meet your pistoning hips. The swollen cockhead peeks out a few more times before—

A knock at the door.

—you become an artist. Trapped in heavenly softness, you release all of your load on the inside of Yujin’s thighs. You use your throbbing cock like a brush to smear the white goo over more parts of her skin. It has to stick on her and not fall to the carpet floor. With a strained voice, you call out: “Minju, get our new pet in here. And don’t forget to close the door!”

“W-what? Pet?” Yujin tries to catch her breath, but her jaw drops the second she sees Yena run through the door and fall on her knees. “Yena-unnie, what, what is happening?”

“No need to call her Unnie, she is our new pet,” you announce and reach for Yena’s collar. “Isn’t she a beautiful kitten? Kitten, what did I say about clothes, hm?”

“Meow,” Yena responds, very apologetic. You kind of admire her for wearing just this thin, way too short crop top and hot pants that barely cover her small ass, but no kitten would wear those, so she quickly kicks them off, now just as nude as the other girls—most of the other girls.

“Ye-Yena, is this true, you are with Daddy too?” Minju asks, just as perplexed as Yujin is. Yena nods in excitement, while you get a leash for her beautiful pink collar. “But why a kitten?”

“Well, don’t we all like different things?” you ask Minju with a big grin. You secure Yena on the leash and walk her across the room for a couple of steps. “As long as Yena likes it, I think this would be a great addition to our… arrangement.”

“A family pet,” Yujin whispers, all eyes on her. Now it’s out there, this crazy idea. No sane person could say yes to it. Everyone at some point returns to their level-headed, not horny self. The mere suggestion of living together as a quasi-family where sex is boundless and the concept of patriarchy is pushed to ridiculous extremes should push them all away.

“When I’m the family cat,” Yena suddenly speaks into the tense silence, her voice filled with wonder. “I have to move in with you two. Would that be a problem?”

“No, we have enough space and money,” Yujin quickly responds. “In fact, I think we can cover all your expenses.”

“Sounds good, I’m in. Meow!”

Yena smirks and crawls towards Yujin who stares down at her with love and lust. Suddenly, Yena’s face dives in between Yujin’s thighs and she starts to lick off your cum like it’s ice cream on a hot August day. Yujin mewls, opens her legs a bit more so Yena can get every last drop.

“Well, I already live with Daddy and Yujin.” Minju looks at the floor, a little embarrassed. She scratches the back of her neck and then shares glances with you and Yujin. “If it’s okay, I will stay with your family, maybe as a sister?”

“That sounds great,” you tell Minju, as your eyes betray you. They are so fixated on Yena’s hunger for your cum, for Yujin’s scent, God, she is devouring your girlfriend. If it weren’t for the stage outfit, Yena surely would’ve pushed her tongue into Yujin’s cunt—who can blame her? IVE’s leader is irresistible. “Your presence is always welcome, Minju.”

“I think Chaewon c-can’t join,” Yujin murmurs, her hand in Yena’s pink strands, sweaty from all the hard cleaning she does to her thighs. Seriously, she starts to leave hickeys there now. You pull at the chain to signal her stop. “She has to stay at the LE SSERAFIM dorm.”

“Well, Chaewon is my best friend and best friend’s usually don’t live with another family,” Minju explains. You put Chaewon’s jaw into your hand and look at her begging eyes. Before you pull out the ballgag, you give her face a quick slap, one that stings for a bit.

“I bet you think we are all crazy, I get that, but—”

“Don’t defend yourself, Daddy,” Chaewon says, gasps, somehow she gets these words passed her pursed lips while the dildo is deep in her cunt. “As Minju’s friend, I sh-should come over every now a-and then…”

“I’ll make sure to reward you then, my little slut~”

“Thank you, Daddy.” You push the ball gag back into Chaewon’s mouth and give Minju a wink. It’s a sign she thankfully understands and suddenly, Minju makes Chaewon ride the dildo with all her power. A creaming pussy starts to cover the glass table, screams almost make it past the restriction in between her teeth and you can feel her bliss fill the air.

You step close to Yujin. She laughs weakly and shakes her head.

“You’re insane, a madman!”

“Oh yeah?” You reach for the back of her dress and a zip later, Yujin’s excellent body is free. Yena mewls at this first sight and if she had a tail (still on the list of items you have to get her) she would wag it like crazy. “You are probably right, I lost my sanity the first time I met you.”

Yujin giggles and removes the leather end of Yena’s chain from your hand. She puts it in her mouth and with doe, puppy eyes slowly kneels next to her kitten friend. Your cock twitches, obviously. Somewhere in this hotel room filled with the smell and sound of unbridled sex, your phone vibrates. You don’t care. They can leave a message. You have better things to do.

“Looks to me like you’re the insane one, the madwoman.”

You push her over, on her back. Yujin’s legs wrap around you like Yena’s pussy wraps around your fingers. You push your rehardened cock into that tight, tight little cunt of your girlfriend and fuck her into the carpet with no thoughts. There is nothing but blankness in your head and there will be for the next week or so. Just you and Yujin. And Yena, who sucks on Yujin’s tits and fucks herself on your hand. And Minju, who is thrilled about Chaewon riding that cock through multiple orgasms. Well, maybe Chaewon will be here too.

Text messages pop up on your phone. They are from Hyewon.

“Hey Daddy, my final day before maternity leave is next week. I need you here earlier though, because someone important wants to do an internship here.

“The one and only

“Jang Wonyoung.”

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #izone smut #male reader smut #ive smut #minju smut #yujin smut #chaewon smut #yena smut #lesserafim smut #le sserafim smut

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joontroverted · 8 months ago

Text

of course other women want your boyfriend

pairing: nanami kento x reader

tags: nanami is 34. is that a warning? lol.

"your dad's kinda hot."

the bar isn't too full, just the regular crowd, and then some. of course there were other college kids, none that you knew. well, except this one.

you've seen aiko around, always at the back of the class. not that that's worth shaming, you ended up back there too often due to sleepy mornings to be looking down on her.

no, it's the constant bitching and laughing during class that pissed you the fuck off. not an ounce of respect or decorum for the rest of you depressed losers just trying to make it out of class with notes that made sense, or the poor professor, who has long since given up on admonishing her. so maybe you did once tell her off in the middle of class a week before finals. just once. or twice.

and here she is, having tapped on your shoulder as you were sipping your drink, bitching and laughing with her friends hanging behind her, snickering along.

"that's not my dad," you reply, ticked off.

her eyes widen in faux shock. "even better then! I didn't wanna make it too messy for you. what's his instagram?"

you laugh, bunching up your shoulders, finally putting down your drink and getting up. you're usually not the jealous type, and you're not even feeling jealous right now, more like a bubbling irritation.

"he doesn't have an Instagram. he's thirty four, what instagram do you think you're gonna be hitting him up on, huh?"

"thirty four? he looks forty plus at least! I didn't know being with a stuck up bitch like you would age a man like that, but makes sense!" she scoffs, looking you up and down.

"so you can pick up on social cues! I was wondering how you couldn't figure out that he's my boyfriend from the kiss he gave me or, perhaps from the way he was holding me, but turns out you're just a rude bitch who wants to slather her fingers all over my boyfriend!" you snap at her.

that makes a few people around you look over, and as much as you wanted to smack her across her face, you needed to maintain your standards.

"then where is he now? where's your boyfriend? and which forty year old brings his little girlfriend on a night out to a bar like-"

"there you are, sweetheart."

kento slides his arm around your waist, slipping into the seat next to yours.

nanami kento. thirty four. food critic! 6' 1", honey blonde hair slicked back, but a few pieces spill out on to his face, deep brown eyes that are both soft and sharp. his white shirt's sleeves rolled up to his elbows showing his thick forearms, veiny with light, golden hair. the bar and the girl in front of you almost fade to the back of your mind when his cologne hits your nose, sending you into a daze.

almost.

"ken!" you breathe.

"did i keep you too long? you know satoru, refusing to get to the point," he frowns, dropping a kiss on your forehead. "what's got you all worked up?"

"hey!"

his eyes leave yours to look at aiko. "yes?"

"how come she doesn't bring you around more often? she's always all by herself, in her own little world! so shy, really! i'm aiko, we go to class together!" she smiles at him, all cute and bubbly like.

"what are you trying to do?" you ask, shouldering youself between kento and her. "you trying to swoop in and show him a better life or something? do you need attention that bad?"

"oh my god, you guys, look she's getting all bothered!" she gasps to her friends around her. "no babe i didn't mean it like that, i just meant it like i am personally, SO happy that someone like you's found love, you know? even if it's with someone who is SO different from you, you're finally out of your shell, and clearly, there is someone for everyone!" she gushes, and then looks over your shoulder at kento.

"why are you looking at him, look at me," you interject, something finally snapping in you. kento can sense the change in you, and places his hands on your waist.

"sweetheart, i think- "

you appreciate it, but you can handle this, you're FINE.

"no no," you repeat, "look at me! because do you think he's gonna treat you the way he treats me? do you think he's gonna keep up with your bullshit, and your little friend group and not see you for the pathetic attention seeking loser you are? you think he's gonna buy you the stuff you want and take you to all your raves and whatnot? this man goes to sleep every night by eleven thirty! you don't see him at parties because he's thirty four fucking years old, and his definition of a night out is wine and fine dining, with ME! he treats me like this, and buys me whatever the fuck i want, because i'm me, he's not gonna treat you like that babe!"

"don't get all worked up!" aiko spits "we can just be friends, you know!" she twirls her hair, her eyes still on kento.

"what are you twirling your hair for? he's not even looking at you, the only thing that that's gonna do is make you even balder. spending all your time trying to poach another bitch's man the whole time your bald spot's been making direct eye contact with me."

she gasps, and deep down you know you would never say that to a girl unless she absolutely deserved it, and aiko has been begging for it.

kento squeezes your waist, standing up, towering over you from behind.

"baby, she said she just wanted to be friends, didn't she?" he asks. "why don't you give her my instagram?"

aiko chuckles, seeming to have recovered. she pushes her phone into his hands, instagram open, and he hands it over to you diligently.

you scoff and type in his username, pressing the follow button and shoving it back to her.

"now that that's done," sighs kento, holding you. "it's getting a little hot in here, isn't it honey? let's get this scarf off of you."

his hands unfasten the scarf that you had tied around your neck, that you're sure aiko just attributed to poor fashion sense. despite the previous chaos, your eyes follow his thick fingers as the open the knot, and unloop the scarf from around your neck, causing the scarf to slip out and leave you neck bare in the deep v neck top you had put on this morning.

deep red and purple bruises litter your neck, all the way down to your breasts, disappearing off behind the lace borders of the neck of your top.

kento stares at you, smug and unclouded desire clear on his face. he slides his hands up and holds the sides of your neck firmly, squeezing slightly. he pulls you closer and your lips meet in a deep kiss, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your cheek. the kiss leaves you breathless as he pulls away and leans back in to place on more kiss on your wet, parted lips, taking you by surprise.

"that's perfect," he thumbs on one of the hickies, eyes never leaving you. "my perfect girl."

warmth floods up your chest and face. a smile can't help but spread across your face as you lean into him.

"let's go, love. dinner, wine and that eleven thirty nap time awaits us," he chuckles, taking your hand, gathering your bag and turning away to leave, not a single glance given to aiko.

aiko!

you turn to her, a lazy, easy grin on your face, glancing to her phone open with kento's instagram, and then back up at her. "happy stalking!"

aiko and her friends are sure to spend the night pouring over kento's instagram, which is filled to the brim with pictures of you, you and him, food, you, travel and his girlfriend, you.

DO NOT REPOST

yay first fic!!!

likes, reblogs, comments HIGHLY appreciated 🩷

#nanami x reader #nanami #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami fluff #kento nanami fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk drabbles #yves tells you a story ✩🕯₊˚.📖⋆🌙⋆⁺₊✧

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phyrestartr · 6 months ago

Text

PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader

W/C: 6.9K (oh god lol) #NSFW, fingering, implied fucking, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, angst, fluff, smut, happy ending, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is an actor, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), Gojo is an actor, Getou is a manager/agent, Toji is a stunt coordinator, Jin is a teacher tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @watyousayin

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?”

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle.

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold.

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him.

“...No proof.”

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you.

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige.

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational.

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair.

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you.

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard.

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?”

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought.

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.”

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.”

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless.

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.”

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly.

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly.

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?”

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.”

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. The fuck did they want?”

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.”

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?”

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you.

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest.

“For a kid,” you chastised with a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.”

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.”

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.”

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.”

Man. Man.

“A statement.”

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.”

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up.

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.”

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

Truth is out–Ryoumen Sukuna is the father, (Name) tells fans on social media!

Sukuna hated seeing that shit. The circus celebrities had to dance through used to be funny until he somehow got swept up into it. Until he suddenly had a baby boy that looked so much like him and so much like you.

He spent too much time on your socials, scrolling through promotion posts and photos of you at red carpet events and premieres–and then he remembered you had a private account. One that you said he could follow. One that he never followed.

Sukuna rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he sulked in bed. Was he really about to sacrifice his pride for this? Was he seriously gonna request to follow your personal account just moments after articles dropped and tweets were sent about him being the baby daddy? Could his pride take it?

Fuck me. This shit is highschool.

He requested to follow, and not even a minute later, you approved it.

That had him interested. Did you want him to follow? Did you want him to be part of his little guy's life? Were you feeling a rush of anxiety and excitement like he was right now?

“Get over it, you fucking idiot,” he mumbled to himself before scrolling through your photos.

There was so much more here. So many photos of you pregnant, of Touma when he was so ridiculously itty bitty, of when you were recovering in the hospital, looking worn out and exhausted, but still beaming as you held your little boy.

There were photos of his first birthday and the cute…rustic cake you'd apparently made yourself. Your agent, Getou, was there, as was one of your fellow agency mates, Gojo, along with some other folks Sukuna did and didn't recognize.

Of course, his boy–your boy lit up the centre, eyes glittering with the reflection of sparklers and the warmth of a good, safe home. He was happy. The boy–his boy–your boy was happy.

Then he called you. He couldn't help it, not anymore.

Sukuna paced around his penthouse, sipping on his spiked coffee and trying to desperately control his…nerves? Alpha instincts? Excitement? Fuck, he didn't know. But he was full of whatever it was, and it drove him nuts.

“Hi!” You answered as you picked up, so full of life as usual. “Been a while. How're you? What's up?”

Sukuna felt so, so old suddenly. Why were you so awake in the morning?

“Think you can spare some of that pep in your step for me?” Sukuna asked. He smiled when he heard you laugh on the other line. “Dunno how the hell you're so awake in the morning.”

“Well, I don't party or work on cars until the crack of dawn,” you purred back, so sweet and teasing. Sukuna almost got hard. Ugh. Ugh. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Hah? What, you sayin’ I'm irresponsible ‘n make shitty choices, babe?”

“Absolutely.”

“Tch. Omegas.”

You snickered again before cutting to the chase: “So, you're calling about my Touma?”

Sukuna swallowed. “Yeah. Gotta say I'm pretty fucking confused.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He heard you shift in bed, triggering a rumble of grumpy noises from your little one. You hushed him gently and apologized before the small, crackly purring resumed faintly in the background. The thought made Sukuna's heart ache.

“What do you wanna know?”

Sukuna inhaled deeply. “Why'd you keep it?”

“I wanted him,” you said. “Next question.”

“...When did you know?”

“Mmh…I guess about a week or two after we stopped hooking up.”

“And you didn't say shit?”

You went silent for a moment, and Sukuna felt his nerves tingle and prick. He wasn't anxious. He wasn't feeling betrayed. It wasn't any of that. Absolutely not.

“I guess I got cold feet,” you admitted. “I don't--I know how many baby daddy accusations you get, y'know? I didn't want you to think I was just trying to get you to pay me out or something.”

Oh. Okay. That made sense, actually.

Too many omegas and women Sukuna fucked around with pointed the finger at him if they caught some sort of STI or fell pregnant; even if it was months after fucking, Sukuna would be suspected of fathering the pregnancy of a newly-pregnant, ex-partner he hadn't seen in eternities, and the media would run to the ends of the earth with it. He was the infamous bad boy the media circuit loved to prey on. And Sukuna didn't really care for it–not until now. Not until those fucks ruined his opportunity to be a dad.

“Fucking–” Sukuna sighed and put his mug down to rub his face. “Shit. Shit. Fucking media bastards. Fuck.”

“I need to get my car tuned,” you said.

Sukuna deadpanned. “Read the fucking room, babe, we're not–”

“Do you want me to bring Touma?” You finished, undeterred by the alpha's grouchiness. “So you can meet him? I think he'd like that.”

Oh. Oh. Ouch. His heart–was Sukuna about to die? Why'd his chest hurt so much? What the fuck?

Sukuna cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “I–yeah? Yeah. Alright.”

“Okay, cool. When's your next–”

“Tomorrow.” He cleared his throat again and scratched at the back of his neck. “Any time.”

You stifled a laugh poorly. “Don’t be nervous, Sukuna.”

“M'not. Fuck you.”

“I can do tomorrow. Let's saaay…1pm?”

“Yeah, sure. 1pm.”

You rolled up at 12:59pm.

Sukuna had the garage open, everything tidy and ready to go like he actually gave a fuck about tuning your car when his literal fucking son was about to be in his presence. But he was so not nervous. Definitely not fucking nervous. Nope. Nuh-uh. Never.

You stepped out of the car and Sukuna felt his heart jump; you looked the same as you did last time he saw you. You were dressed more casually, though, done up in joggers and runners with a university hoodie to top it all off. Clearly, you didn't care to impress today.

You threw Sukuna an easy smile before pulling open the back door and taking care in plucking your chubby bunny from his car seat. All the while, Sukuna wandered closer and closer, but maintained a respectful distance just in case your momma bear came out to bite. He knew you had an impressive temper when your easy-going self got pushed too far, and he would rather not bring that out right now.

“Pa!” Your son yipped as soon as he got up into your arms. “Puh Pa!”

You melted immediately, punching Sukuna in the gut with your happy scent of maple syrup and cardamom as the little one nuzzled up to you, repeating variants of “pa!” as he rubbed his chubby cheeks and snotty nose against your neck and face to get that perfect scent onto him.

“You're so sweet, bunny,” you cooed and adjusted him in your arms as you met Sukuna the rest of the way. “Hey, hey! So, did you want to meet him first, or–?”

Sukuna didn't know what the fuck to do, honestly.

“I, uh. Car shit first. What needs tuning?” He drawled, watching the pup clinging to you with rapt attention.

Admittedly, Sukuna didn't really pay attention to what you were saying and what you were gesturing to; he was too captivated by the faint wisps of scent he caught from your little one. He smelled of smoke and syrup–a perfect combination of his parents’ scents.

And he just looked so much like the both of you. Touma's skin tone tilted more your direction, but the glowy, bronzey quality that Sukuna brought to the table still shone through in its own weird way. His eyes were almond-shaped like his own, but bore the same, welcoming colour of yours. And, fuck, his hair was just a perfect match to Sukuna's. If the little shit got Maori tattoos too, he'd be a tiny carbon copy.

Damn. Speaking of–would his mom wanna meet the little shit? Her grandson? Would she ever bother leaving Hawaii to–

“You get all that?” You asked.

Sukuna stared at you. “Get what?”

You pursed your lips like you so often did and turned to the big, bad alpha.

“Maybe we should do the meet ‘n greet first, huh?” You swayed a little and kissed Touma awake. “Baby, you wanna meet a friend?”

“Buh!” Touma exclaimed. You gently guided his little face to look at Sukuna, and the boy looked star struck staring up at the absolute unit that was Ryoumen Sukuna.

“Touma, this is Sukuna.” You closed the gap between the two of you a little more, and Sukuna leaned down to look at the little one. His little one.

Sukuna twitched a smile as he looked over the little thing. “You sure this thing’s mine? Looks a little small.”

You laughed. “If you were born as big as you are, I’m so, so sorry for your mother.” You nuzzled Touma’s little cheek and bounced him a little.

“Wuh!” Touma’s little arms flew up towards Sukuna, and the towering man looked a little more than nervous, looking at the tiny pudgy hands like they were deadly weapons.

“Come on, don’t look at him like that.” You took Sukuna’s hand and delivered it to Touma. “He’s curious. He hasn’t met anyone as big and tall as you, y’know?”

Sukuna huffed, but let the little one grab at his fingers and hold his hand. “What, you don’t have another alpha looking after you? Hard to believe that. You're the neediest little bitch I know.”

“Stop. I'm not Yorozu,” you huffed, and Sukuna cringed at the name. “He has alphas around, sure. But not big ones like you–security excluded. It's not like other men want to play nice with another alpha's pup.”

Sukuna caught the hint of a frown on your face, and his hackles started to rise.

“Some dumbfuck giving you grief?” Sukuna asked, voice rolling with thunderous promise. He'd kill whatever moron fucked with you and his pup. You just had to drop the name.

You sighed, light-hearted. “You know what the rich and famous are like--we're the worst.”

Sukuna growled, and Touma mimicked the noise as best as he could with his pathetically teeny tiny crackled voice. Fuckin’ cute as shit.

“Tch. Don't sell yourself short.”

“I'm just trying to say I don't need that around my boy, and I sure as hell don't want it around me, either.” You nodded and stepped closer as Touma reached up for Sukuna again. Apparently just holding his hand wasn't doing it for the boy anymore.

“Good. Don't need those pathetic fucks around the runt–oi, wait, what the fuck're you–”

“Wup, wup!” Your son shrieked as you helped bully Sukuna into holding him.

“He wants uppies.”

“Uppies,” Sukuna balked.

“He wants you to–okay, you're bad at this–don't hold him like that! Here, do it like–” you cut off as you helped Sukuna get a comfortable hold on Touma while the littlest one squirmed and squeaked in delight, trying to climb up onto Sukuna's shoulder but failing miserably.

Sukuna twitched a smile as you sighed, exasperated by the ball of energy trying to scale the mountainous man. But he got a hold of him, tucking his arm under his butt and holding his back to make sure the little shit didn't go plummeting to the floor.

“You give your ma hell, huh? I can get behind that,” Sukuna hummed. His son's little hands papped at his face, grabbing at his nose and jaw–specifically over the dark tattoos streaking along the curves and cut of his features.

And you smiled the entire time. You pursed your lips tightly to hide it, but you did it so poorly. You always did. Maybe it was on purpose.

“So, can I tell you about my car problems now?”

Sukuna held onto his runt while you explained what flaws, either cosmetically or mechanically, were bothering you. It mostly consisted of slight dents from other assholes not knowing how to park, paint scratches, and more of that sort. As a fellow car guy, Sukuna could understand the anguish of having a favourite baby get all dinged up.

“Not hard to fix,” Sukuna decided. He held the hood up with one hand and looked over the motor–everything looked clean and well-maintained. He was almost impressed. “But, well, it'll cost ya. Uraume can send the details.”

You nodded. “Sure, sure, sounds good. I'm never taking this thing on the road again after it's fixed. Too many fucking idiots out there with piss poor driving skills.”

The mechanic smirked. “Ho? So beating up your car is what makes you start cussin’, huh? Noted.” He let the hood fall closed and adjusted his hold on the now-sleeping tot. “Couldn't even get you to do that in bed.”

“Psht, don't say that in front of the baby, Sukuna, jeeze,” you sighed and rubbed your face. “Babies remember more than you'd like to know.”

“Huh. You think he'll remember when he got–”

“No, he won't remember his inception.” You laughed and shook your head, but paused when you saw smears of concealer on your fingers and tutted.

“How long's the car gonna take? Should I get a rental?” You asked before the man could comment.

“Probably, if you want me to detail this thing right,” Sukuna mumbled. He reached out and turned your chin back to him, looking at the spots concealer missing, hinting at dark circles under your eyes.

Your face grew hot, but you nodded and cleared your throat. “Yeah, okay. I'll, uh. I'll call someone to pick us up–”

“I'll take you home.”

You brightened the slightest bit. “Yeah? I–okay.” You pulled his hand from your face and smiled. “I'll grab the car seat.”

Sukuna liked your house. It was a nice mix of traditional and modern with large stretches of woodgrain and bamboo. A neat outdoor garden and pond decorated the front, but a bigger, more lush collection of tropical plants greeted guests. It was beautiful, if one was desperate to be in nature.

“I'm just gonna get him to bed, be one second.”

Sukuna nodded and pocketed his hands as he pretended to not watch you trot upstairs with the sleepy cub melting in your arms. You still had a nice ass even after popping that little melon out. Huh.

He looked around your space more, wandering with slow, lumbering steps. The house wasn't huge by any means, but it was cozy and warm, quiet and hidden away from the city's gaze. That was probably why you chose it–here, you could be honest with yourself. You could shield your babe from the brutality of your career and keep him safe from leering eyes. Honestly, one of the leaves on your giant monstera could hide him from the whole universe.

Guy's too obsessed with growing shit. It ticked him off, but he didn't know why.

Maybe it was all the photos of you and Touma. Maybe it was because he wasn't in them and too many other men were in his place, lining your walls in the protection of cheap IKEA frames–but Sukuna didn't want you. No, no, Ryoumen Sukuna did not want anyone. He didn't want you. He didn't need to settle down and–

“You want a glass of wine?” You asked when you came back down the stairs. “It's plum wine. Don't really have any scotch or anything, but I–”

Sukuna scoffed before a mocking laugh slipped out of him. You paused, looking at him with bleak attention as he shook his head and pocketed his hands. Your request for him to stay pissed him off; clearly, you expected something more from him.

“Whaddaya think is gonna happen here, huh? You think we're gonna fall in love, pick up where we left off, have a happy little fuckin’ family to tell the tabloids about?”

“What?” You asked. “I never–”

“Didn't have to. Gotta admit, you did a better job than the rest of the whores that tried wrangling me in to–”

“All I asked,” you cut him off, voice quiet but firm, “Is if you wanted wine. I’m not proposing, Sukuna.”

Sukuna didn’t like that. The whole…not-being-into-him and not wanting him to stick around after he just shut you down. He sucked his teeth and took a breath, about to say something, but you spoke first.

“I know this is a PR thing. I know how the whole media circus works–you want your ex to stop bothering you, and I want people to stop asking questions about who the fucking father of my son is.” You paused, staring Sukuna dead in his eyes, a quiet, simmering rage boiling just beneath the surface of placid control.

“Call my manager when the car’s done,” you decided, sounding beaten down and exhausted. “I’ll send someone for it. Thanks for the ride home.”

Next thing the man knew, he was ushered toward the door and stood in the doorway, stuck on the idea of being kicked out of his omega’s–no, no, out of an omega’s house like he was trash.

“Fucking–wait, just–”

“What?” You snapped.

“I could–glass of wine doesn’t sound too bad–”

You shoved the bottle into his hands and slammed the door.

Sukuna tried to sleep it off–as in, he slept around to forget about the crushing weight of rejection collapsing down on him, shattering his chest, spearing his heart with shattered bone.

You still kept being so fucking nice to him, too. You never slandered him, never spoke ill whenever he was asked about in interviews–you spared his reputation with a kind smile every time you had to talk about him or to him.

And he was grateful for it, even if he didn't return the favor. It's not like he was on a smear campaign, no, but anytime a hook up would ask about you, he wouldn't give a glowing review, per se. But it wouldn't be scalding either. Just sheer indifference tainted with drops of bitterness stemming from unripe guilt.

It went on like that for months–until you did your parental duties, and set aside your feelings about Sukuna for the sake of your son.

“Uraume, get that,” Sukuna called as his phone rang. He was too busy fucking around under the hood of his latest project to wipe his hands free of grease and pick up himself, obviously.

But Uraume was there for a reason. They picked up the phone with a polite hello before their sharp frigidity melted into rounded edges.

“(Name)-san,” they hummed. “It's good to hear from you. Do you need to talk to Sukuna-san?”

Sukuna started wiping his hands off so unbelievably fast.

“He's working on a car right now. You know how he can be when he's focused.”

“Fucking–piece of shit–what the fuck–” somehow, he got even more grease and oil on his hands thanks to that stupid fucking rag. God, what a nightmare.

“Sure, I can take a message.”

“Fuckin’ shit fuck, fuck.” He wiped his hands on his designer jeans before running to Uraume and gesturing for the phone.

Uraume's brows raised, and they actually smiled.

“Ah, hold on, Sukuna-san's here.”

Sukuna snatched up the phone, ignoring the knowing look glimmering in Uraume’s eyes. Ugh. Ugh. Betas.

“Hey,” Sukuna said after clearing his throat.

“Hey! Ume said you were working on a car? You didn't have to stop to talk.”

“Yeah, well.” Sukuna shrugged to himself and kicked a scrapped car part, sending it skittering across the ground and clanking into other parts. Jesus, when did his shop get so messy? “Needed a break anyway.”

“Ah. You work too hard, you need to take breaks more often,” you laughed sweetly. “So, listen, Touma's birthday's coming up–”

“Shit, seriously?” Sukuna grinned and kicked another chopped part. “Fuck. How old's the little shit turning?”

“Two! He's growing up so fast, I wish I could slow down time and–” you paused and laughed, suddenly sounding unsure and a bit nervous. “Sorry, sorry, was about to go on a tangent. Anyway, there is a little get-together, but you don't have to come. Satoru and Toji'll be there. But your brother and his son'll be there, too, so it won't suck completely.

“Otherwise, if you want to come see him earlier or something, that's fine, and–and you're not cutting me off and I didn't think I'd get this far so I'm losing the plot.”

Sukuna huffed. “What, you don't want me to fuckin’ listen, huh?”

“I know you will since I have such a pretty voice, but I'm surprised you're being a good boy for once.”

The mechanic rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. Who knows if it was to wipe away embarrassment or fatigue.

“You’re exhausting.”

“And you’re a dick.” There was a special brand of teasing bitterness behind those words, but the vibes were balanced perfectly; seemed you were still cranky about what he said, but you were willing to let it slide.

Sukuna chuckled, relaxing the slightest bit. “Alright. I don't know what the fuck kids like at that age, but I'll figure somethin’ out. I can at least show up Jin.”

“Wow.”

“Text me time and place. I'll be there.” After a moment, he added, “I’ll bring some plum wine. Fancy shit.”

The hidden rumble of a purr snuck its way out from your side, and Sukuna did everything he could to suppress his alpha's reciprocation.

“Sounds good. See you then, Sukuna.”

Toji answered the door.

“Hah. Why the hell are you here?” The fuckhead ex-Zenin asked with a stupid, shitty smirk on his dumbass face.

Sukuna strained not to throw the first punch. He really shouldn't murder someone at his--your son's birthday party. Murder is bad. Murder is bad.

“Fuck you.” Hey, at least it wasn't murder. “‘M here for my fucking kid.”

Toji crossed his arms and suddenly looked beyond bored as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Your kid? You mean (Name)’s kid?” He wondered, putting on a show of thinking. “Weird.”

“You're one to talk. You forgetting what you did to your own brat? You fuckin’--”

“Sukuna!” Your sweet voice called, instantly changing the atmosphere. “Glad you came. Do you–oi, Toji, move, stop bodyguarding. You're not a bouncer.”

“Eh?” Toji stayed in his spot as you smacked at his arm and tried to push him away. “I'm just standing here. Not bodyguarding. Minding my business.”

“You’re so full of shit.” You wheezed and squeaked as the man suddenly gave way, nearly making you crash into him and plummet to the floor. But you caught yourself and hissed at the dark-haired menace until he whistled innocently and waltzed away.

“Fucking--why’s he here again?” Sukuna grumbled as you let him in. He leaned down to nose at your cheek with a grumpy, quiet grunt--typical greeting procedures for an interested individual or bonded pair. But the way you choked on whatever you were about to say meant he must've caught you off guard.

“He's uh–we work together. We've worked together? He was the stunt coordinator for some movies I've been in.” You cleared your throat and took the present bag from Sukuna to place with the others. “And I babysit Gumi sometimes.”

“Gumi? What the fuck is a Gumi?”

“Megumi? His son?” Oh. Oh. “I babysit Yuuji too, so. Thick as thieves, y'know?”

Sukuna nodded a little, thinking hard on the lore. He liked that Yuuji was taken care of by you, but surely that wretched Gumi could go somewhere else. Toji was probably just leeching off of you.

“Oi, Momma, get in here,” Toji crowed from wherever all the baby giggles and excitement bubbled from in the house. “Your boys need some maternal guidance–”

“Toji, don't make it weird!” Jin whisper-yelled before going on a long-winded rant about this and that, about proper behaviour and attitudes in front of children (not that the kids were paying attention to anything Toji did).

You gave Sukuna a tired smile. “Come on. It won’t be that bad, I promise.”

Sukuna sighed, but let you drag him to his demise, bottle of wine in-hand.

But it wasn’t that bad. Not really.

Your other boys, Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru, showed up and showered tiny Touma with way too much praise and far too many gifts, but the little shit looked so pleased that Sukuna couldn’t get too annoyed. Shoko and Uraume came by, too, much to Sukuna’s surprise. Uraume brought with them a whole fucking confectionary cake they’d crafted themselves at home. Gojo obsessed over it and Getou tried to reign him in to no avail.

And the night went on. No one talked shit, not unless it was in good fun, no one got fucking hammered, no one talked about work–it was all about the kids. Nothing else. No one else.

Sukuna could never guess just how far that truth went.

When everyone left for the night, the alpha could start to see the edges of your smile fraying. But you held on, thanking everyone for the gifts and for showing up for Touma, and especially thanking Jin for offering to let all the little ones spend the night at his place (you and Toji would forever be in his debt).

Then, when the door closed and all fell silent, he heard you cry.

Sukuna didn't know what to do about people crying. He never had. Even when he was a kid, he had a hard time trying to comfort people with hugs and words of reassurance–he just couldn't do it.

“It's okay,” he heard you whisper. “It's okay. It's okay. You're okay. It's okay. I'm okay.”

Sukuna got up and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. “Sure about that?”

You jumped and clasped a hand over your mouth to stifle your scream. Sukuna barked out an ugly, reedy laugh while he defended himself from your petty smacks and pinches.

“You scared the fuck out of me–why're you still even here? Go home! Shoo!” You wiped your eyes once you were done harassing him and turned away, busying yourself with cleaning up dishes and wrapping paper left in the aftermath.

Sukuna followed you idly, a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. What could he say? He loved seeing you get all petty and riled up. But he didn't love seeing you cry. He didn't love seeing you try to stealthily wipe tears away, to try and steady your shaky breathing.

“What’s going on with you, babe?” Sukuna asked as he settled beside you at the sink.

“It's nothing,” you said with a snuffle. “It's seriously nothing. Sorry, I--you don't need to stay. Or anything.” You sighed and rubbed at your eyes with your sleeve. “You've done your fatherly duties. You're free to leave.”

“Yeah? ‘N what about my baby daddy duties?” He wondered, voice so horribly low and comforting, like the buzzing crackle of a campfire.

You laughed, watery and shaky. “You already did everything you needed to, Sukuna.”

“Come on, don't cockblock me like that.” He gently tilted your Chin his way to catch your eyes just like he had back at the shop all those months ago. “Look at me.”

You did. Your eyes were red and irritated, whatever pretty boy make up you wore was wiped off and smudged, and those heavy, dark bags met the light in front of someone else for the first time in a long time.

You still had the gall to laugh it off and pull Sukuna's hand from your face with a small, “I'm fine,” though.

“Then why the hell are you crying?” He asked.

You squeezed his hand with both of yours. “Things are just…hard. Overwhelming.”

Sukuna nodded a bit. “That why Jin took the runts tonight?”

“Yeah. Needed some time, I guess.” You snuffled and wiped your face with both hands before finishing up with cleaning. “Makes me sound like a shit parent, I know.”

Sukuna couldn’t disagree more. “Least you're not flipping out on the kid. That'd be way shittier, yeah?”

“I don't know. I guess, but–yeah. I don't know.”

Sukuna sighed and scooped you up like a new bride. “You're driving me fucking mental.”

“Sukuna–!”

“Quiet.” Your omega indeed piped down at the grouchy command, and you shyly let the man carry you up the steps to find your bedroom. “You're getting some damn rest. You look like shit.”

You grumbled something Sukuna elected to ignore in favour of tossing you onto a bed the way one might lob a stone into a pond. You landed with a warbled squawk and looked at Sukuna with horribly accusatory, baffled eyes.

Sukuna quirked a brow as he looked down on you, gladly using his broad build and tall stature to secure your submission. And it worked; the aggravated spark in your eyes curled up and fell silent after a few long seconds. Your head lowered just the slightest bit, too, but your passive gaze remained stuck on him, waiting for his next move.

“Fine,” you grumbled.

Sukuna raised his brows and eased onto the bed, caging you underneath him with his solid frame. Your scent flickered with shy playfulness, and Sukuna relished in it.

“How do I know you're gonna obey, omega?”

“I guess you don't. Not for certain,” you admitted begrudgingly.

“Tch. Someone's gotta keep you accountable then, huh?” He nosed at your neck, nearly letting his lips touch your neck but refusing to do so in the same instance. “Make sure you're doing the right thing, make sure you're behaving.”

One of his hands squeezed at your soft thigh before inching up little by little. Your hands found themselves in his hair as he teased at your joggers’ waistband, pulling the elastic taut before letting it go.

“Sukuna,” you laughed, sounding a little breathless. “I, uh–I thought you said–”

“Changed my mind.”

“But–”

“Forget what I said and let me make you cum on my fingers, brat.”

Oh. Well, hard to argue against that.

You swallowed but gave a meek nod. He ripped your bottoms off and felt up your blazing skin with rough, calloused hands, groping and grabbing in the same spots he liked back when you were hooking up: your thighs, your hip bones, the squish of your stomach. As much as the man harped on about not wanting “damaged goods,” he sure worshiped your body like it was brand new, untouched.

Sukuna brought his fingers to your mouth, and you took them with utmost compliance. Your tongue worked against his digits thoughtfully and thoroughly for your own sake–a lack of starter lube wouldn't end well, after all. And Sukuna was not the most patient man in the sack.

“See?” Sukuna crowed into your ear as his hand traveled south and a finger sunk into you. “It's not so bad to just behave, now is it?”

You already felt like you were about to explode, and Sukuna savoured It. He liked being the one to do this to you–the only one for a while, considering how tight and sensitive you were. Any little push or prod inside you brought sweet sighs and soft moans to the surface–and a second and third finger had your hips bucking and your nails digging into his shoulder and back as he finger-fucked you to oblivion while still caging you in.

“Good omega,” he cooed. “Gonna cum already, huh? Tch, you shoulda said no one’s been taking care of you; I would’ve taken my parental responsibilities more seriously.” His lips and teeth landed on your neck, as you curled up into him, body tensing, heels digging into the mattress, panting and gasping getting louder and faster. The sound made his pants strain even more.

“Fuck, you smell fucking good. Better than when I fucked you the first time.”

“I-I forgot you talked so much in bed,” you managed out. “Could you just–shut up?”

Sukuna growled, and you whined. “You want me to shut up, huh? You wanna listen to your slick fucking hole getting spread open, plowed into? You miss me that much, omega?”

“No.” You hissed and clung to his upper arm as he somehow managed to take it up a notch, slipping his fourth finger in and spreading you obscenely wide.

“I think you did. Think you were hopin’ I’d come around, plow you into the bed again, stuff you full like no one else can.”

“Sukuna–”

“I’ll fill this hole up all you want, baby–I’ll even stuff another pup in you. Twins. You want that, huh? You gonna be my omega from now on? Creaming on my cock ‘n fingers the way you shoulda been the day you walked your perfect, little ass into my life?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up–” you choked on a gasp and bit into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with drool and shuddered mewls while your body tightened and ecstasy hit like the weight of Sukuna’s words–brutal, fast, honest.

Sukuna moaned in sympathy, ignoring the way his hand and arm cramped and ached to keep pistoning into you and draw out your high. He couldn't help it–something about you drove him mad in that moment. It could have been how you made his ego swell, it might've been the way his greed needed your slick staining his and only his skin, perhaps it could have been a quiet yearning coming from his lonely, hollow alpha. He didn't know. But he didn't question it.

Your body started to relax with the death grip you had on his shoulder as you came down from the sudden, electric high. Your hips still jolted with every slow, lazy push into your soft hole, though a haze of purring and cooing filled the spot where gasps and moans once did. Eventually, you melted off of him and collapsed onto your back, looking as content as a cat lounging in the sun.

“Oi, oi, you're not done yet, sweetheart.” But if you said you were done, he might've listened. Just that once.

You hummed something as you looked up at him, eyes doey and so egregiously lovey-dovey.

“That's a nice face. Make sure you save it just for me,” Sukuna gently commanded, and you laughed.

“Demanding. I thought you didn't like used goods.”

Sukuna scowled. “Shut up.” His free hand traced the stripes of stretched skin left in the wake of bearing his baby boy. “I like ‘em when they're used by me.”

“Does that really make them ‘used goods,’ then?” You murmured as if speaking logic too loud would break Sukuna's entranced obsession of you.

But maybe, maybe, you had a point.

“Guess I'll have to think on that.” His fingers slipped out of you and he gave you a wet slap on the ass to wake you up. Your subsequent squeak sure as hell woke Sukuna up.

“Ow. Gross.”

“I'm not finished with you, brat. Don't get too fuckin’ content, yeah?” He smirked when you glanced at his crotch expectantly. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Please.”

Sukuna sighed and settled between your legs as he futzed with his belt and button. “Could put up a bit of a fight.”

“Too tired.” You yawned and stretched with a pleased sigh. “No will to argue.”

The alpha leaned down to bite at your knee, and you pulled your legs together to avoid his chunky, rude fangs. You knew he'd delight in making you bleed or leaving dark bruises. He was the worst.

“Still got a little fight left in ya,” Sukuna said with a grin. “Let's see how much more we can find, hm?”

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