#i'm not wildly competitive | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months ago

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Google is (still) losing the spam wars to zombie news-brands

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT (May 3) in CALGARY, then TOMORROW (May 4) in VANCOUVER, then onto Tartu, Estonia, and beyond!

Even Google admits – grudgingly – that it is losing the spam wars. The explosive proliferation of botshit has supercharged the sleazy "search engine optimization" business, such that results to common queries are 50% Google ads to spam sites, and 50% links to spam sites that tricked Google into a high rank (without paying for an ad):

https://developers.google.com/search/blog/2024/03/core-update-spam-policies#site-reputation

It's nice that Google has finally stopped gaslighting the rest of us with claims that its search was still the same bedrock utility that so many of us relied upon as a key piece of internet infrastructure. This not only feels wildly wrong, it is empirically, provably false:

https://downloads.webis.de/publications/papers/bevendorff_2024a.pdf

Not only that, but we know why Google search sucks. Memos released as part of the DOJ's antitrust case against Google reveal that the company deliberately chose to worsen search quality to increase the number of queries you'd have to make (and the number of ads you'd have to see) to find a decent result:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

Google's antitrust case turns on the idea that the company bought its way to dominance, spending the some of the billions it extracted from advertisers and publishers to buy the default position on every platform, so that no one ever tried another search engine, which meant that no one would invest in another search engine, either.

Google's tacit defense is that its monopoly billions only incidentally fund these kind of anticompetitive deals. Mostly, Google says, it uses its billions to build the greatest search engine, ad platform, mobile OS, etc that the public could dream of. Only a company as big as Google (says Google) can afford to fund the R&D and security to keep its platform useful for the rest of us.

That's the "monopolistic bargain" – let the monopolist become a dictator, and they will be a benevolent dictator. Shriven of "wasteful competition," the monopolist can split their profits with the public by funding public goods and the public interest.

Google has clearly reneged on that bargain. A company experiencing the dramatic security failures and declining quality should be pouring everything it has to righting the ship. Instead, Google repeatedly blew tens of billions of dollars on stock buybacks while doing mass layoffs:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

Those layoffs have now reached the company's "core" teams, even as its core services continue to decay:

https://qz.com/google-is-laying-off-hundreds-as-it-moves-core-jobs-abr-1851449528

(Google's antitrust trial was shrouded in secrecy, thanks to the judge's deference to the company's insistence on confidentiality. The case is moving along though, and warrants your continued attention:)

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/the-2-trillion-secret-trial-against

Google wormed its way into so many corners of our lives that its enshittification keeps erupting in odd places, like ordering takeout food:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

Back in February, Housefresh – a rigorous review site for home air purifiers – published a viral, damning account of how Google had allowed itself to be overrun by spammers who purport to provide reviews of air purifiers, but who do little to no testing and often employ AI chatbots to write automated garbage:

https://housefresh.com/david-vs-digital-goliaths/

In the months since, Housefresh's Gisele Navarro has continued to fight for the survival of her high-quality air purifier review site, and has received many tips from insiders at the spam-farms and Google, all of which she recounts in a followup essay:

https://housefresh.com/how-google-decimated-housefresh/

One of the worst offenders in spam wars is Dotdash Meredith, a content-farm that "publishes" multiple websites that recycle parts of each others' content in order to climb to the top search slots for lucrative product review spots, which can be monetized via affiliate links.

A Dotdash Meredith insider told Navarro that the company uses a tactic called "keyword swarming" to push high-quality independent sites off the top of Google and replace them with its own garbage reviews. When Dotdash Meredith finds an independent site that occupies the top results for a lucrative Google result, they "swarm a smaller site’s foothold on one or two articles by essentially publishing 10 articles [on the topic] and beefing up [Dotdash Meredith sites’] authority."

Dotdash Meredith has keyword swarmed a large number of topics. from air purifiers to slow cookers to posture correctors for back-pain:

https://housefresh.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/keyword-swarming-dotdash.jpg

The company isn't shy about this. Its own shareholder communications boast about it. What's more, it has competition.

Take Forbes, an actual news-site, which has a whole shadow-empire of web-pages reviewing products for puppies, dogs, kittens and cats, all of which link to high affiliate-fee-generating pet insurance products. These reviews are not good, but they are treasured by Google's algorithm, which views them as a part of Forbes's legitimate news-publishing operation and lets them draft on Forbes's authority.

This side-hustle for Forbes comes at a cost for the rest of us, though. The reviewers who actually put in the hard work to figure out which pet products are worth your money (and which ones are bad, defective or dangerous) are crowded off the front page of Google and eventually disappear, leaving behind nothing but semi-automated SEO garbage from Forbes:

https://twitter.com/ichbinGisele/status/1642481590524583936

There's a name for this: "site reputation abuse." That's when a site perverts its current – or past – practice of publishing high-quality materials to trick Google into giving the site a high ranking. Think of how Deadspin's private equity grifter owners turned it into a site full of casino affiliate spam:

https://www.404media.co/who-owns-deadspin-now-lineup-publishing/

The same thing happened to the venerable Money magazine:

https://moneygroup.pr/

Money is one of the many sites whose air purifier reviews Google gives preference to, despite the fact that they do no testing. According to Google, Money is also a reliable source of information on reprogramming your garage-door opener, buying a paint-sprayer, etc:

https://money.com/best-paint-sprayer/

All of this is made ten million times worse by AI, which can spray out superficially plausible botshit in superhuman quantities, letting spammers produce thousands of variations on their shitty reviews, flooding the zone with bullshit in classic Steve Bannon style:

https://escapecollective.com/commerce-content-is-breaking-product-reviews/

As Gizmodo, Sports Illustrated and USA Today have learned the hard way, AI can't write factual news pieces. But it can pump out bullshit written for the express purpose of drafting on the good work human journalists have done and tricking Google – the search engine 90% of us rely on – into upranking bullshit at the expense of high-quality information.

A variety of AI service bureaux have popped up to provide AI botshit as a service to news brands. While Navarro doesn't say so, I'm willing to bet that for news bosses, outsourcing your botshit scams to a third party is considered an excellent way of avoiding your journalists' wrath. The biggest botshit-as-a-service company is ASR Group (which also uses the alias Advon Commerce).

Advon claims that its botshit is, in fact, written by humans. But Advon's employees' Linkedin profiles tell a different story, boasting of their mastery of AI tools in the industrial-scale production of botshit:

https://housefresh.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/Advon-AI-LinkedIn.jpg

Now, none of this is particularly sophisticated. It doesn't take much discernment to spot when a site is engaged in "site reputation abuse." Presumably, the 12,000 googlers the company fired last year could have been employed to check the top review keyword results manually every couple of days and permaban any site caught cheating this way.

Instead, Google is has announced a change in policy: starting May 5, the company will downrank any site caught engaged in site reputation abuse. However, the company takes a very narrow view of site reputation abuse, limiting punishments to sites that employ third parties to generate or uprank their botshit. Companies that produce their botshit in-house are seemingly not covered by this policy.

As Navarro writes, some sites – like Forbes – have prepared for May 5 by blocking their botshit sections from Google's crawler. This can't be their permanent strategy, though – either they'll have to kill the section or bring it in-house to comply with Google's rules. Bringing things in house isn't that hard: US News and World Report is advertising for an SEO editor who will publish 70-80 posts per month, doubtless each one a masterpiece of high-quality, carefully researched material of great value to Google's users:

https://twitter.com/dannyashton/status/1777408051357585425

As Navarro points out, Google is palpably reluctant to target the largest, best-funded spammers. Its March 2024 update kicked many garbage AI sites out of the index – but only small bottom-feeders, not large, once-respected publications that have been colonized by private equity spam-farmers.

All of this comes at a price, and it's only incidentally paid by legitimate sites like Housefresh. The real price is borne by all of us, who are funneled by the 90%-market-share search engine into "review" sites that push low quality, high-price products. Housefresh's top budget air purifier costs $79. That's hundreds of dollars cheaper than the "budget" pick at other sites, who largely perform no original research.

Google search has a problem. AI botshit is dominating Google's search results, and it's not just in product reviews. Searches for infrastructure code samples are dominated by botshit code generated by Pulumi AI, whose chatbot hallucinates nonexistence AWS features:

https://www.theregister.com/2024/05/01/pulumi_ai_pollution_of_search/

This is hugely consequential: when these "hallucinations" slip through into production code, they create huge vulnerabilities for widespread malicious exploitation:

https://www.theregister.com/2024/03/28/ai_bots_hallucinate_software_packages/

We've put all our eggs in Google's basket, and Google's dropped the basket – but it doesn't matter because they can spend $20b/year bribing Apple to make sure no one ever tries a rival search engine on Ios or Safari:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/google-payments-apple-reached-20-220947331.html

Google's response – laying off core developers, outsourcing to low-waged territories with weak labor protections and spending billions on stock buybacks – presents a picture of a company that is too big to care:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

Google promised us a quid-pro-quo: let them be the single, authoritative portal ("organize the world’s information and make it universally accessible and useful"), and they will earn that spot by being the best search there is:

https://www.ft.com/content/b9eb3180-2a6e-41eb-91fe-2ab5942d4150

But – like the spammers at the top of its search result pages – Google didn't earn its spot at the center of our digital lives.

It cheated.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/03/keyword-swarming/#site-reputation-abuse

Image: freezelight (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Spam_wall_-_Flickr_-_freezelight.jpg

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

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alienpossession · 2 months ago

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This is the original post by @mindmelter

I think the tatted hunk knew how much I went nuts for him because he literally brought a friend along just a couple hours after the alien slithered into him with my help. This friend is similarly built with the tatted hunk (dare I say bigger) and he seemed to be more of a rugged, non-Caucasian version

This friend's takeover only happened hours after they walked out from the elevator and do God knows what in the tatted hunk's room. This time, the friend entered the elevator all alone as the time shown that it's almost sunrise. Judging from his look, he seemed to be heading to the gym and clearly they fucked the night before. I press the button to release yet another alien, and he seems to be too deep in his own thinking until it's too late as the alien already shot itself to his ear when he realized from his peripheral vision that something is lurking near him. He thrashed around wildly, a common occurence I already used to see for the past few months which indicate that the alien is on the process of covering the entirety of the human brain with its slimy self, and I obviously fished out my cock from my uniform while enjoying the sight.

After all the usual moves of physique check coupled with a quick self-worship, the alien then surprised me with his request

"Open up the access to your office, human. I want to meet you directly,"

"Okay, why?"

"We didn't employ you to ask question, human. Just do it,"

I have zero idea what is up with this particular one, but if it's like the encounter that happened during the early weeks I started this whole arrangement with them, well I expect him to fuck the shit out of my mouth, which I don't really mind if I have to be honest, but judging from the time, this is quite a risky move as the next shift is about to start in 40 minutes.

But I eventually let him walk into the control room since I'm not going to mess around with a slimy extraterrestrial being that can make my brain obsolete and practically turned me into a meat puppet. Once inside, he told me to open up the folder filled with all the video I have of all the takeover. I gulped before asking him

"Why?"

"How many times do I need to remind you that we don't employ you to ask questions, human. Just open the folder," As I double-click the folder and revealed the 68 videos of the takeover, he grinned at me

"Let's make video 69, shall we?" He double-clicked the video titled "The Three Musk-eeters" which I vividly remembered to showcase three gym junkie that just finished their late preparation for some sort of worldwide bodybuilding competition taken over by one slime that managed to split itself into 3 and made the three into a closely-coordinated unit that operates in group.

The video played while the tatted hunk draped his muscular arm over my shoulder and rested his chin on top of my head while his hand fondled my cock. "Sir, why are we doing this now? This is almost the end of my shift, what if the next shift walks in to us doing all this?"

"Well, you can always use a helping hand, don't you think? Oh fuck, look at them going at the blond's dick, how long you held that elevator LOL?"

"T---ten minaaaggghh---minutes,"

"Seems like you won't last that long if I keep this up, next video!" He stopped jacking off my cock, but not before he tugged at it very quickly I started to leak pre. Then, with that slick sweaty and slightly coated hands of his, he handily used the mouse to click on another video randomly. It opens the one titled "Gun-totting Russian" as he then moved away from his previous position and instead kneeling to then expertly swallowed the entirety of my 5.5 incher hardening cock.

All the crazy head action happened while my eyes fixated on the screen that shows how the big Russian dude, Maksim, managed to grab the slime and tossed it right before it shot itself to his ear canal. Then, he swiftly shot at the slime and split it into two, thinking that he just killed some sort of weird abomination or something. He then squatted, his big mistake, to check on what kind of shit that just attacked him but before he could thoroughly check it, the two slimes leapt from the floor right to his mouth and ear. He screamed to no avail as he flailed on the floor, all 240 pounds of his muscle jerked uncontrollably as the alien started its violent takeover of his massive body. The video successfully pushed my cock to reach its full mast at almost 6 inches and I can feel that I'm so close to shoot my load before the tatted dude stop the head action

"Ohhh.......judging from the file name and the sound made, it must be Maksim Alimov," he said to me while still placing himself in between my legs with his mouth hovering right in front of my cock and his nose exhaling warm air right to my tip, "Big catch, don't you think? Probably the most notorious one among the other 68. Must be crazy hot to think that such a ruthless mob boss on the run like Alimov there is merely a dumb muscle puppet *slow lick around my tip* controlled by my kind, all thanks to a lowly security *gentle flick of his tongue right on my piss slit* like you," he finished his sentence right when I eventually shoot the warm geyser all over his face.

He chuckled at the sudden eruption and in a shocking display of his puppet's physical advantage, his long tongue cleanly lapped the surrounding of his lips, chin and even the tip of his pointy nose. He then grabbed my day-old underwear and use it as if it's some kind of cloth to clean the rest of his face before tossing it back to me

"Well, that's video 69 for ya. No takeover but I bet it will be your favorite from now on because why on Earth a straight, macho tatted hunk like me willingly kneel and then eat your cum unless I'm just a brainless human with no free will whatsoever, right?"

I nodded in embarassment as his statement managed to make my softening cock hardened once more

"Fuck, you're one horny guy. Hmm too bad it's 5:47 now, clean yourself up quickly before your shift replacement comes. I'll see you later and keep up the good work, security man," he said as he quickly dashed out to the parking lot, probably roleplaying as the tatted hunk driving his sports car to do his morning gym routine.

As I finished dressing up, saving the recording of this very room from the time he came until he left just now and replaced it with fake recording of me just sat in silence, the time on the screen shows 5:52, and a fit-looking daddy just entered the elevator to come down for his breakfast.

Noting the usual time needed for takeover and how my friend Juan usually came a bit late around 6:03 to 6:05, I pressed the button to recruit this daddy to the collective. I'm this close to press the button once the daddy walked out from the elevator to have his breakfast in the hotel restaurant and a shirtless buzz blond stud walked into the elevator. But, it's 5:58 and I'm not about to risk Juan to witness what I'm up to, so I just sighed and prepare myself to leave for the day. Next time you'll not be so lucky, stud.

#alien possession #male possession #alien takeover #alien expansion #alien transference #elevator possession #male puppet #mindmelter #elevator takeover

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deathbxnny · 4 months ago

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Genshin men meeting you, their idol, for the first time. | Lyney, Kinich, Childe x Gn!Reader

The idea came to me randomly, so enjoy! (I've been freed from my writers block wooo-)

Content: Reader is a famous person, Childe going a little feral, vague mentions of flirting, Ajaw being Ajaw, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》LYNEY

You were a famous magician who did shows all over Teyvat. Everyone knew of you and your incredible talent, making you an international star to all. No matter where you went, diehard fans would always come to see your breathtaking magic tricks with wide, sparkling eyes. You were able to bewitch the crowd with the most simplest moves, a graceful smile always on your beautiful face as you did so.

And when you finally came around to hold a show in the grand theaters of Fountaine, Lyney had the chance to meet you backstage in between your sets. Despite the fact that he should have seen you as competition considering his own passion in the profession, he couldn't help but watch you with that same awe-struck expression. It was a privilege to meet you, one he wouldn't pass up for anything.

His heart was beating against his chest wildly, yet he still pushed through with the greeting he had gone over and over again in his mind. He wanted to impress you after all. Taking your hand in his, he kissed the back of it, a sly and playful glint in his eyes. "It is an honor to meet you." He hums before pulling a rainbow rose from behind your ear skillfully and holding it out to you, secretly relishing in the giggle you gave him. Ignoring his sibling's deadpan from behind him, he held out his arm to you. "May I show you around? This is your first time in Fountaine... and I can assure you that I'm the best guide you'll find. Consider it a favor amongst like-minded magicians such as ourselves!"

His nervousness never shows, and his smile never falters. This was perhaps the best show he had to put on in his life... but when you gratefully accepted his invitation, he felt his worries melt away, glad he didn't come off as a desperate fan.

》KINICH

He tried to stay indifferent when he was suddenly standing in front of one of the most legendary warriors Natlan had ever seen, which just happened to be you. He felt his hands become clamy, arms tightly crossed across his chest, whilst he watched you speak with Mualani about the latest news regarding their annual tournament. Attempting to simply stay out of your line of sight in fear of embarrassing himself, he leaned against the wall hidden in the shadows, content with being in your close proximity... until Ajaw caught onto what he was attempting to do.

"Ohoho... are you trying to crawl into a hole and disappear like the little worm you are?" He giggled evilly, floating around the deadpanning man, who was trying to ignore him like always. But Ajaw wasn't having it. If there was something he lived for, then it was the suffering of his dearest companion. "You know... I think you should go talk to them! Actually, let me help you out since I'm feeling oh-so nice today!" Kinich's eyes widened slightly, his lips parting to hiss out a warning, but the creature was too quick to stop, filled with determination to cause chaos.

Following after him with quick steps, Kinich was quick to banish him before he could reach you. This meant, however, that he was now standing in front of you and Mualani. Heat crawled up his neck and cheeks, as his friend happily introduced him to you, seemingly not having noticed the doom that had nearly hit you earlier. But his slightly panicked mind stilled when he saw you give him a kind smile. "Ah, I think I know you... or well, I've heard of you, at least." You said, and he felt himself take a shaky breath in relief and wonder.

Perhaps Ajaw had actually done something nice for once... which would definitely enrage him once he was released from his imprisonment.

》CHILDE

Oh boy... you knew him way before you met him, that's for sure. Mainly because he was hellbent on fighting you at least once. He didn't care if he lost or won either. It was all the same to him, as long as you were the one to press the blade of your sword against his neck. And that alone made you often just outright avoid him, whenever you were in the motherland for business. You were a well-known assasin and agent for the first Harbinger, serving directly under him, which, of course, brought you great strength that Childe wanted to experience desperately. He needed to know if the rumors about your skills were true or not.

And unfortunately for you, he finally was able to get his deepest wish fulfilled when you accidentally dared to linger around the courtyard for way longer than you should have. "Please... fight me in a duel at least once!" He called out, knowing he has you cornered now. Despite him idolizing you greatly, you could tell his cocky pride and ego made him think he was an equal to you. Or perhaps that was just how things appeared to be. He was an unreadable force of energy that admittedly had caught your interest a while ago.

"Will you finally leave me be, if I do?" You asked after a moment of pondering silence, and the man just gave you a smirk, his dead eyes burning with determination you had never seen before. "Let's let our blades decide that." Chuckling at his response, you unsheathed your sword and faced him with a sigh.

This is not how people usually approach their idols... but you supposed that nothing was normal in the place you called home.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin kinich x reader #genshin kinich #genshin lyney x reader #genshin lyney #genshin impact x reader #genshin childe #genshin childe x reader #genshin

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elizabethrobertajones · 1 year ago

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lol. lmao even. I can't believe these dummies made it all the way to sneaking out of camp to hook up before they realised. He even took his shirt off for the occasion.

Anyway I engineered the worst night of Astarion's (new) life just for my cruel amusement but honestly, they're really sweet.

(Karlach still woke up naked the next morning so I guess they did eventually figure something at least a little satisfying out :P)

After seeing that post about Karlach and Astarion being bi/pan, I did use my head empty afternoon after yoga to make a new save to try and make them smooch out of spite. And because they're canonically mutually attracted to each other no matter what so. It's theoretically possible.

Absolutely did it the wrong way around by playing as Karlach because just by picking Karlach-y answers to random things (tiefling issues especially) Astarion ended up rather fed up and disapproving of her and was in deep negatives immediately, and then of course he can't even bite her so there goes a chance to earn brownie points with him, so I only just clawed it back into the green after handling his personal stuff as best as possible.

Also he doesn't seem to approve of [BARBARIAN] options, just, like, murder and mayhem fitting a more refined palette and purpose. So I'm just seeing [Shadowheart Approves] [Lae'zel Approves] [Astarion Disapproves] every time she opens her mouth.

I mean I'm finding the whole thing very funny, but I feel like Karlach is literally trying to beat the lesbian allegations off with her axe and Astarion is lounging around not helping whatsoever because being the internet's new gay best friend is way more profitable and fun :P

#anyway lae'zel was hitting on karlach too so I'm going to go back to the pre-party save and just have a look at what that turns into lmao #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #Astarlach #edit: Lae'zel was annoyed she couldn't hook up with Karlach so she went to hit on Wyll #and in the morning complained they just lay together unbiblically and talked all night #I am assuming they're endgame getting married and she has no idea and is wildly frustrated without realising she had an A+ romance moment #the hindsight is going to hit her like a ton of bricks #of course Karlach and Astarion didn't go much further even if they did get nakey #so like. Who's really winning here Lae'zel #.................... they're definitely going to be annoyingly competitive couples in this playthrough #Lae'zel and Astarion aggressively trying to one up each other and Karlach and Wyll looking at each other like 'what have we gotten into'#okay I now love this 'straight' bi couples playthrough

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zoromuse · 2 years ago

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want you (need you) | headcannons

taking an aphrodisiac with them and seeing who gives in first

characters. eustass kid, monkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, vinsmoke sanji

general cw. f!reader, aphrodisiacs, just overall desperate men

a/n. based on this ask, thank you for requesting, i had such fun writing this <3

part two

EUSTASS KID

cw. mention of thigh riding, bulge

It definitely takes some convincing for him, but once he sees the competitive aspect of it, he’s kind of driven to the idea.

At first he found it kind of amusing, since he could see it started affecting you first; even though you said you were fine when he asked you, he didn’t miss the way you clenched your thighs for some friction from time to time.

Then it started affecting him, his body growing hot all over, from his cocks to his heat that were bright red from all the nerves, but he’d rather die than give in first.

In the end, you’d have to give up and ask him for what you want, he’s too stubborn to lose and you can’t take it anymore.

You were the first to pounce on him, straddling his lap and quickly grinding on his thigh to get any sort of relief you could find. Your thighs tremble on either side of his waist, and you’re panting wildly because it feels like you’ve been holding your breath ever since you felt the delicious drag of his cock in your walls for the first time of the night, but you’ve never felt better.

You bask in the afterglow of your orgasm for the next few minutes before you realize he’s growing hard inside of you again. You’re terrified to look anywhere, down to the place you connect with him for fear of seeing the bulge he’s surely leaving in your tummy, and absolutely terrified to look up to his face for fear of being met with the unchanging animalistic look of his face.

"Did you think I would be satisfied with just one time? I was just waiting for you to give in, now I'm gonna have my way with you…"

MONKEY D. LUFFY

cw. whiny luffy

He is always willing to try anything you want, so I don't think it would take a lot of convincing.

He understood the competitive aspect of it, but as soon as he started feeling the effects of the aphrodisiac he got extra touchy with you.

When you remind him you were supposed to see who could last the longest away from each other, it's almost like he doesn't hear you.

"Fuck that, I need you right now"

“W-wait!” you exclaim, his hands pushing at the dip of your fack to get you to arch further into him. This isn’t his favorite position, he much prefers so see you bounce on his lap and make a mess of yourself, or just simple missionary where he can see all the pretty faces he causes in you with every drag of his cock, but he’ll take this for now.

“No please, I don’t wanna stop…” he all but whines. His cock keeps abusing that same spot he knows drives you crazy, that’s why you’re having such a hard time voicing your concerns.

“You can’t be so… l-loud, someone might hear!” Your warnings fall to deaf ears, his pace is unrelenting and shows no signs of stopping anytime soon, despite this being the third time tonight. The substance only gave him a boost on his already big stamina, and you’re starting to regret suggesting this to him.

“I love you so much,” he said. “I don’t care if anyone hears, I just want to-... mmm f-fuck-!”

RORONOA ZORO

cw. lots of dirty talk, a little bit of mean dom zoro if u squint, mating press, bulge

Much like Kid, he likes the competitiveness of it all, so it’s easy to convince him about this idea.

I think he would take a more teasing approach on it though.

As soon as he sees you’re feeling the same heat he is, he starts whispering dirty things in your ear to get you to give in first.

“You’re so warm, bet you feel so hot down there too, don’t you?” “How long are you going to keep pretending you don’t want me to bend you over and fuck you right now?"

“Fuck, thank god…” he groans, his hands holding your legs pressed to your chest as you claw at the sheets next to you. “Didn’t know how much longer I could take”

The irony of it all is that you didn’t know how much longer you could take this. His grasp on your legs and the way his cock hits all the right spots you were aching to have filled, it’s so overwhelming, and yet it’s everything you had been craving tonight.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his thrusts growing deeper and harder, if possible. “Too dumb to talk now?”

You nod, knowing if you tried speaking a mixture of slurred and unintelligible words would be the only thing falling past your lips. He doesn’t mind though, he likes watching you go dumb on his cock, still mindful enough to look down at the way his cock keeps bulging at your tummy.

VINSMOKE SANJI

cw. dacryphilia if u squint

He’s willing to try anything for you, so it literally only takes suggesting it for him to agree.

He tries to act like it’s fine, part of him wants to impress you, and part of him wants to see you beg for him.

Then again, he’s not very patient when it comes to you, so he’ll start with sloppy kisses to your neck, acting like he’s trying to make you give in first.

Eventually it turns into him cursing under his breath, and before he realizes the words are coming out, he’s begging for you to give him something, anything.

“Fuck-!” He groans, throwing his head back. You’re riding him, your tits are bouncing to the rhythm of your hips and your hands are grasping at his chest for balance. He keeps bucking his hips into you, and it’s throwing you off, but he’s reaching the deepest spots of your walls and you’re not sure how much longer you’ll last.

Still, it’s not enough for him.

He turns you both over, your back landing on the bed with a cry because he took you by surprise, and his hands now on either side of your body, holding himself up as your legs wrap around his waist and he fucks into you just the way he knows you like it.

Sanji hates to see you cry, but somehow he finds the sight of your tears prickling at the corners of your closed eyes so appealing, it almost drives him to the edge. Almost. He wouldn’t even think about leaving his baby unsatisfied.

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100vern · 15 days ago

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the great british fake-off | xmh

you thought the guy in the hawaiian-print shirt who seems physically incapable of being quiet would be the most annoying person here, so imagine your shock when it's xu minghao, who has seemingly decided you're the enemy and keeps sabotaging you. a baking competition for charity might have others on their best behavior, but what's a little sugar without some spice?

❆ pairing: minghao x reader ❆ genre: great british bake-off, holiday au; crack, fluff ❆ wordcount: 5.5k ❆ rating: e for everyone ❆ warnings: some swearing, minghao is a saboteur, idiots abound. ❆ credits: this netflix psd template for the banner. this recipe for the yule log; this recipe for the gingerbread house; and this recipe for the entremet. divider from here. this post for the divider. this was roughly edited by me, so any and all mistakes are my own. ❆ written for: the winter with you collab hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories as they're posted. ♡ ❆ author's note: i had this rotting away in my wips since literally 2021, so even though it started as a completely different story, i'm so glad it's finally seeing the light of day even if it's not what i originally intended. (also, i know the banner says 12 contestants but the holiday specials only had a couple, okay. i forgot when i made it and i wasn't going back to fix it.)

The obnoxious one is wearing an aloha-print shirt.

He’s also extremely loud, his raucous, fake laughter filling every corner of the large warehouse you’ve been assigned to for filming. Makes a show of batting his eyelashes, throwing his head back every time someone cracks a joke that’s not even funny, comes up with nonsensical nicknames for the entire crew just to suck up to them.

“John Davies? Mind if I call you Joe?”

Joe doesn’t even make sense as a nickname for John, but John fucking loves it, apparently. Looks at the annoying guy like he just watched him string the stars in the sky.

But it’s the shirt—god, the shirt drives you absolutely crazy. He’s about to go on national television, be a household name, and some ill-fitting, charity shop Hawaiian print shirt is what he woke up and chose to wear. What’s his angle here? Appeal to the public with some sob story about only being able to afford second-hand clothes so that’s why he’s competing? Needs the money to care for a sick relative?

(The expensive watch on his wrist and his limited-drop sneakers tell an entirely different story, but you’re keeping that to yourself for now. No reason to play your hand so early.)

As much as you hate the shirt, you have to admit it suits him. The colors are garish and unsightly, just as obnoxious as he is, and you can’t stare at it too long because you start going cross-eyed. Looking at him feels about the same as stuffing your mouth with a bunch of sour candies: you get that same burn in the back of your jaw, same scrunched-up, grossed-out look on your face; have to squeeze your eyes shut to blink back tears.

You don’t even know his name, but you hate him immediately.

Your eyes scan the other contestants. None of them inspire the same level of animosity within you as the annoying one does; all of them nearly unremarkable. A variety of ages, appearances, backgrounds. You hear one say they’re a retired investment banker. There’s an accountant, a teacher, a fucking aerospace engineer.

And then it’s his turn to introduce himself. He clears his throat, speaks with an easy, practiced confidence. Completely void of nerves. Makes eye contact with everyone in your conversation circle. Gesticulates wildly as he speaks, immediately endears everyone to him.

“I’m Tim,” he says, and you nearly recoil at how honeyed his voice is. “But you can call me Tim. I’m thirty-eight, originally from a small town. Work as a…”

You can barely stand to listen to it anymore, each “Nice to meet you, Tim!” like another punch to the gut. How can’t these people see right through him? How are they falling for his bullshit? You should’ve known. Producers always throw in at least one bomb to up the ratings—a secret millionaire, someone rude and confrontational, a flat-earther. Even if you’re competing in a charity baking competition, of all things, it’s still reality television at the end of the day.

Just because the bunch of you are going to spend the next few days creating confections out of sugar, spice, and everything nice, doesn’t mean you have to be part of that ‘everything.’

Tim thinks he’s got this in the bag. Thinks he’s going to show up and win easily, the rest of you be damned, and even if you are typically a very nice person, you’re also highly competitive. There’ll be no rolling over done by you, and if Tim wants to play dirty—

Game on.

As you introduce yourself, you feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of your head. Probably because you don’t bother with the faux-humility the rest of the contestants have. Polite and charming but firm, just the way your mother had taught you. You’re not boisterous, don’t crack silly jokes to play up to the cameras the way Tim loves to do, and you know he’s scrutinizing you the way you’d done to him, trying to figure out your angle.

Well, joke’s on him—you don’t need one.

And you really, really hope it drives him crazy.

Except maybe the joke is on you, too, because you don’t account for Xu Minghao.

In true reality television fashion, the tent is boiling hot.

As if the universe itself had looked down on all of you and decided what you all needed was a heatwave uncharacteristic of this time of year, just to up the ante. Not even ten minutes in the tent and you’re all fanning yourselves and wafting air up your shirts. Which is great, really, because it isn’t like you need to use ovens or stand over hot burners. It’s not like you aren’t going to be soaking through your clothes with anxiety sweats, either! Sweat dripping off your brow into your eyes won’t matter because you don’t need to use them.

Everything’s going to be fine!

But everything is not fine. Not only has the universe gifted you with sweltering heat, it’s given you the work station directly next to Tim’s. You’ll have to feel his annoying, off-putting aura near you for the entire competition. There’s always the possibility of him bungling it and making an early exit, but you know that’s unlikely. Obnoxious he may be, you also know a strong opponent when you see one, and something tells you you’re going to be stuck with him for the long haul.

Think of the cats, you tell yourself. All of this is for the cats.

It’s not like you never would’ve returned here of your own volition. No, your first go-round with feel-good, competition-based reality television had gone fine. You hadn’t won, of course, because you wouldn’t be here again if you had, but you placed respectably in the top three. Became a fan favorite, too, which was arguably more lucrative than winning. People make a living on social media these days.

So, it’s not the competition itself that has you white-knuckled gripping onto the edge of your station. It’s the man at the one beside you, cracking all these stupid jokes about the weather and how it’s a horrible day for tempering chocolate, so he bets that’s going to be the first challenge!

You suck in a deep breath. Try to remember the breathing exercises from that one yoga class your sister had dragged you to. It had been about the same temperature then, too—well duh, it’s hot yoga, your sister had said, which was news to you, because you never would’ve signed up for something called hot yoga willingly. Still, you endured it, just like you’ll endure this, and a little sweat is not going to get in the way of you delivering a check to all those poor, sad cats without families.

“Psst, hey,” you hear from behind you. When you turn, a man is smirking at you as he finishes tying his apron around his waist—has to wrap the strings around twice, you notice, because only someone hand-picked by the gods themselves would have that shoulder-to-waist ratio.

You don’t really recognize him. Can’t recall his name or where he’s from; can’t remember what he mentioned doing for a living. Probably something artsy, if you had to guess—he definitely has the style and demeanor of a creative, with his trendy shag-mullet and the multicolored, glitter-y snowflakes decorating his nails.

You aren’t sure he introduced himself at all, but the confidence with which he holds himself—easy, like it’d take a national emergency to rattle him even a little—implies he doesn’t really have to. Most of the people here already know him, if you had to guess, and he gives the impression that he’s not fussed with impressing any of them.

If only Tim was so inclined.

You clear your throat, vaguely aware you need to respond. “Yeah?”

“Are you nervous?”

“Ah, I don’t think so? We’ve done this before, after all. We should be seasoned veterans by now.”

He smirks. “Should be,” he emphasizes. “Feels different when it’s for charity. Extra serious, you know?”

“Right,” you agree, taking a look around the tent. “Anything for the cats.”

There’s an immediate shift in the atmosphere. What was friendly and carefree is now tense; where a smile and a floral giggle sat on the man’s lips has been replaced with a crooked scowl. And it doesn’t make sense, all you’d done was agree with what he said, but then the producers are yelling something at the front of the tent, cameramen are rushing to their equipment, and a woman appears at your side and starts clipping equipment to your clothes, and there’s no time to question it. On your right, Tim’s laughing and joking around with some crew members like they’re old drinking buddies. It drives you nuts, has annoyance pricking at your skin, flushing your cheeks—

So much so that the woman at your side leans in and asks, “Should I get hair and makeup over here?”

“I—no, it’s fine.”

The unnecessary members of the production team scatter away after a loud countdown. Hair and makeup don’t come to wipe the sweat tracks from your skin. You already know Man Behind You is standing there looking perfect because he’s equally as attractive as he is mysterious. God truly has favorites, and this guy somehow made the top five.

You stare down at the instructions in front of you, confident in your ability to read but not so confident in your ability to make sense of any of it. And it’s your own recipe, which is the worst part. You’d typed this recipe yourself. These are your hand-written notes in the margins. You’ve conceptualized, tweaked, baked, and eaten this recipe more times than you can count, and now all you can do is thousand-yard-stare into the ether.

In the time since you were on the show, you’d somehow forgotten about the chaos. Not unlike that hormone women have that makes them forget about the pain and agony of childbirth, you reckon.

In addition to being one of the most bothersome people in history, Tim apparently doubles as a prophet.

Because it is a terrible day to temper chocolate, and you’ve got a bûche de Noël on the horizon that requires you to do so. You can pivot, maybe make some kind of buttercream, but a basic chocolate buttercream is not going to win you a world-renowned baking competition even if it is Swiss meringue. A child could make that.

You sigh. Push that wave of panic to the back of your mind. In a setting like this, you have approximately ten seconds to come up with a back-up plan and execute it and you wasted your time thinking, so you’re just going to have to temper the stupid chocolate and stick to your original plan. God, you have a headache.

But the show must go on, so you do too.

Step 1: Preheat the oven.

Easy enough. If nothing else, you can preheat an oven.

Step 2: Make the sponge.

Not as easy, but you’ve made so many sponge cakes throughout your life you could probably do it in your sleep. Whisk attachment on the stand mixer. Four eggs. Sugar meticulously weighed and added to the bowl. Sugar and eggs whisked together until the mixture is the color and consistency you’re looking for. Flour, cocoa powder, and salt sifted in. Metal spoon to fold it all together as delicately as possible. You won’t have a sponge cake if you beat all the air out of it, now will you?

“Good enough,” you mutter to yourself, staring down at the bowl.

At least you’d had the foresight to grease and line your baking tray, because the entire entourage arrives at your station just as you’re meant to be pouring the batter into it and sticking it in the oven.

“Ah, we meet again,” the group choruses, genuine smiles peeking through as if you’re old friends separated only by time and distance.

That’s the weird thing about being on television. For as long as you’re able, you exist within a microcosm of daily life. A world exists outside of your bubble, you know, but you don’t see much proof of it. All of your meals are eaten together; all of your conversations are had with one another. You share temporary living quarters and oftentimes too much of yourselves, and you’re thankful the show encourages teamwork and kindness because that’s the kind of thing that can grow sour if you leave it unchecked too long.

And then it just—ends.

Bubble burst, you all go back to your regular lives. You look back on that time fondly, but the friendships are thinned out by time and distance. Eventually it all starts to feel like a dream, except every now and then something breaks through the haze to remind you it actually happened: a stranger recognizing you at the store, a message on social media, the casting team contacting you to ask if you’d be interested in competing in a holiday special for charity.

“We certainly do,” you retort, smile matching everyone else’s.

All things considered, you are happy to be back. Even if the tent is crowded and far too warm, the atmosphere is unmatched, especially when it’s decorated for the holidays.

“What are you working on?”

You explain the general workings of your yule log: chocolate sponge, hazelnut liqueur cream filling, and chocolate icing to top it off. You aren’t sure how you’re going to decorate it yet—you’ll figure it out once you get there, depending on how much time you have—but you guarantee them it’ll look festive and professional.

Satisfied with your plan, they wish you luck and move on to the man behind you. It’s so great to see you again, Minghao, someone says, and you’re grateful they’ve spared you the embarrassment of having to ask for his name. It still doesn’t ring a bell, and you can’t recall what season he’d been on for the life of you, but he speaks with a patience and a gentleness that is so unlike Tim that you nearly drop to the floor in thanks.

But as the commotion of the tent reminds you, you don’t have time to waste thinking about Minghao. You’ve only been given an hour for your signature, and you’re going to need all sixty of those minutes if you have any hopes of presenting a finished product.

It doesn’t register at first.

It doesn’t register at second or third, either.

In fact, you’re sure you’re hallucinating when you open the oven door to pop the sponge inside and you aren’t hit with a blast of hot air. Room temperature. Perhaps a bit on the cooler side, if you’re being honest.

And that can’t be, because you know you preheat your oven. It was the first thing you did, because it’s always the first thing you do. It’s just… automatic, like opening your mouth to eat or washing between your toes in the shower. Instinctual. Not something that needs to even be considered, because it’s always the first thing you do.

No, this cannot be. Forgetting to preheat the oven is a rookie mistake and you’re not a rookie.

…Could it be?

Perhaps you were so caught up in the lights and buzz, the thrill of returning to the tent, that it had slipped your mind? Perhaps you’d pressed the wrong buttons and turned the wrong dials? While it’s not likely you’d somehow bumped into the oven and turned it off, nothing is impossible, so… maybe?

“Shit,” you hiss through your teeth. The producers are not going to be happy about your swearing. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Everything okay up there?” Minghao asks from behind you. When you turn, he’s got a flour-dusted towel thrown over his shoulder as he nurses a cup of tea, and his composure in the face of your hysteria has your head spinning.

Your mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. Minghao is drinking tea without a care in the world and your oven isn’t even halfway to the temperature you need. “I—yes? No? I don’t know. I could’ve sworn I preheated the oven, but—”

“Don’t panic,” he offers, his top lip catching on the rim of his mug. “You got this. Work on something else while you wait.”

Something else. Right, you can work on something else. Both the filling and the frosting still have to be made, and quick mental math tells you there should just be enough time to get everything done if you’re efficient. Of course, that’s a big if, but that’s why you’d chosen a yule log, after all: sponge cake doesn’t need that long to bake, and anything can happen (and go wrong) in this tent.

So, you get to work on something else. Measure out a sheet of parchment paper, dust it with cocoa powder, and set it to the side. Decide to get to work on the frosting, because if one thing has already gone wrong, you don’t trust the universe to let you temper chocolate correctly.

The chocolate is halfway melted when the oven dings. A small harrumph of victory and you’re finally good to go, setting a timer for twelve minutes. Minghao offers you a discreet thumbs-up, fingers covered in something sticky you assume is marzipan.

Time flies after that. You get both the frosting and your filling made, and it’s only through divine intervention that your sponge cake comes out perfectly and with enough time to score and cool. When you dare a look around the room, everyone seems to be in a similar position as you: frazzled and covered in powdered sugar, making frantic trips to and from the refrigerators, chucking seized-up caramel into the trash and starting over for the third time with a pained expression.

A holiday special—it was supposed to be more laid-back, more for the vibes and festivity than actual competition, but it looks to you like everyone’s taking it just as seriously as your first go-rounds.

“Fifteen minutes!” someone calls, and your competitors fade out of focus. You’ve got a yule log to ice and fondant to roll out.

You make it by the skin of your teeth.

It isn’t perfect, of course, as few things on this show ever are, but it’s more than acceptable. It looks great and tastes even better which is all you can hope for. Much to your dismay, Tim also gets top marks, but it’s Minghao that shocks you all. His stollen wreath earns him a handshake and a lot of clandestine, private glares, but he’d been kind to you earlier, helped untangle that knot of pandemonium, so you return the thumbs-up he’d given you earlier with a smile that feels akin to getting away with murder.

Something is wrong.

On its own, this is not necessarily surprising. Gingerbread, tasked with bearing the weight of an entire house, can be fickle. On any other day you wouldn’t blame it if it wanted to rebel and go sideways, but the thing is—you’ve made gingerbread before. Tons of times. Another thing you could probably make in your sleep if you absolutely had to. So it doesn’t make sense when you look down in your mixing bowl and it just… doesn’t look right.

You tell yourself it’ll get better when you knead it. Maybe the color just looks off because it’s underworked, and a few good punches will set it straight.

But it doesn’t. The dough sits at your station like a sad, formless lump, giving you no indication it intends to become anything at all. Which is, admittedly, a problem. Your technical challenge is to build a gingerbread house—one complete with little windows and golden-toned nightlights, a scalloped roof dusted with powdered sugar to look like fresh snow, a working door!—and you’re far from an engineer, but you don’t think you can have a gingerbread house without gingerbread.

You sneak a peek at Tim’s station, where he’s well into measuring an immaculate-looking dough with a ruler. The contestant in front of you is in a similar place, too, so it’s with an oh fuck I’m doomed sigh that you turn around and hope to find a comrade in Minghao again.

“Hey,” you whisper, trying not to draw attention to yourself. “Does this look right to you?” You jerk a thumb in the direction of your dough-lump. Minghao, bless him, looks around you and tries his best to hide his grimace.

He does not succeed.

“Um. Well, no.”

You sigh. Place one flour-dusted hand on your waist and pinch the bridge of your nose with the other. “I can’t figure out what’s wrong with it. I’ve made gingerbread a million times.”

“Looks pale,” he offers. Of course, this is the exact moment he dumps his own dough—his beautiful dough, flawless chestnut brown—onto his station to knead it. “Was the sugar right?”

A strangled, disbelieving laugh escapes you. Was the sugar right—of course the sugar was right! Dark muscovado sugar. Everyone knows that's what you use for gingerbread, so of course the sugar was right because no one, both in their right mind and at this stage of competition, would use anything else.

Before you can respond, Minghao’s pointing at your jar of sugar. Your jar of pale, producer-supplied sugar, which even a blind person could tell does not resemble dark muscovado sugar.

A million thoughts race through your head at once, but it boils down to instinct, you think. Your brain had seen flour, butter, and sugar and went into baking mode, not stopping to take in the color of anything. Maybe a smarter, more perceptive person would put two and two together and get sabotage, but you don’t have enough time to play detective.

“Here, here,” Minghao says, hurriedly handing over his (correct) sugar. “It’ll be close, but you should have just enough time to redo the dough.”

You’re going to throw up.

In the end, a chunk of chocolate buttons is missing from the roof and the piping around the edges is far from your neatest work, but it’s passable. You already lamented your loss during the signature bake, because anything less than perfection was not going to win you much of anything, and you’re now 0-for-2 on showstopping, unbelievable, awe-inspiring confections.

Just like the devil, your fall from grace will be studied.

Overthinking isn’t going to get you anywhere, but you can’t help it.

You collapse sideways into a chair, immediately face-planting into the catering table. Everyone else buzzes around you—animated conversations that have your head spinning, words that jumble together and start to sound like nothing at all—but you’re a million miles away. One mistake is out of character for you, but two? It’s unheard of. Something you would’ve said was impossible if it didn’t happen to you just a few hours ago.

This is something you need to file away for later so you can think about it just as you’re about to fall asleep, horror and embarrassment there to keep you company when it keeps you awake until the wee hours of the morning.

A chill runs down your spine.

“Hi. Do you mind?” You startle. Bang your knee on the underside of the table. “Sorry,” Minghao apologizes, but he doesn’t look sorry at all. You shake your head. Gesture to the empty seat across from you as if to say it’s all yours. “I brought you some tea,” he continues, setting it in front of you. “I find it’s easier than coffee when you don’t know how someone takes theirs. Less chance of getting it wrong.”

You smile. Wrap your hands around the Styrofoam cup and delight in the warmth. “Thank you. This was very kind of you.”

“Seemed like you had a rough day.”

Groaning, you try to wave away his words. “Please don’t speak of it.” Minghao jokingly salutes you before miming his lips sealed. “Anyway. Let’s talk about something that is not reality television or baking or a reality baking competition.”

So, you do. Most of the talking comes from you, to be fair, but Minghao is a good listener: nods along, chimes in when appropriate, keeps the spit in his mouth where it belongs. You talk about your hometown and what made you apply for the show the first time. He tells you about growing up in Haicheng and all the things he grew up baking with his mother. You swap stories from your respective seasons; Minghao shares anecdotes with a straight face that have you clutching at your stomach.

Hours pass this way, and you end the night feeling like you’ve made an honest-to-god friend.

Xu Minghao ends the night feeling the guilt weigh him down like an albatross.

In retrospect, it is probably a bad idea to make another sponge, but no one can accuse you of learning from your mistakes.

“It’ll be a patterned joconde sponge with two mousse layers—chocolate and raspberry—and a raspberry jelly. Then I’m going to attempt to top it with chocolate and raspberry decorations.” The judges blink. Are you sure that’s a good idea? you know they want to ask, but this is a holiday competition for charity, so they’re trying not to be pessimists. “Anything is possible through holiday cheer,” you tack on, hoping your smile doesn’t look crazed.

They nod. “Right, right,” they say in unison. “Well, good luck!”

And then they’re off.

Determined to nail this, you triple-check your oven, which is preheating to a crisp 400 degrees; you double-check all your ingredients and confirm they’re correct; when you can spare the time, you watch your refrigerator like a hawk, making sure no one tries to sneak their own work in there and displace yours when you aren’t looking, but everyone’s engrossed in their respective showstoppers.

Tim’s planning a shadow box of sorts, with blown-sugar baubles and isomalt fire. Someone else is stressing over their three-tiered cake, asking the presenter if they think they’ve taken on too much. From what you can piece together, Minghao is making a three-dimensional house, also made from cake that he imported special pistachios for.

“Special pistachios?”

“Mm, from Iran. They have a better color.”

“Iranian pistachios! Can you believe it!”

But you don’t have time to worry about Minghao and his special Iranian pistachios. You have so much to do and not enough time to complete it. Your paste is in the freezer and the sponge is in the oven, but you’ve still got two mousses to make, a jelly to infuse, and little chocolate trees to create—and all of this wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t pointless, but you don’t want to disappoint the cats by half-assing it. They deserve your whole ass, and your whole ass is what they’re going to get.

The result is stunning—not necessarily in stature, but rather craftsmanship and effort. This is what you’re capable of. This is why you came back to the tent. For all your complaining and wanting to put your head through a concrete wall, there’s nothing like seeing the judges ooh and ahh when you present your work to them. There’s nothing like the ego boost of someone taking a bite and watching their eyes light up. There’s nothing like carrying your cake back to your station feeling proud of yourself.

“Great job,” Minghao says, a genuine smile stretched across his face. He also exceeds expectations, of course. Must be those special pistachios, you think, but your congratulations are also sincere.

Production makes a spectacle of judging, much like they always do.

The set is decorated to look like a winter wonderland, even though you’re still in the midst of autumn: a giant Christmas tree in the center decked to the nines with garland and baubles; warm, golden bulbs strung from every awning they could find; all the participants bundled up tight in festive sweaters and scarves all the way to your chins, cheeks and tips of noses dusted with red-pink blush to mimic the cold that’s nowhere to be found. Fake snow falls from the sky, and it doesn’t feel real, but it does feel magical.

One of the hosts catches you by the elbow, asks who you think is going to win. “Oh, I’d have to say Minghao,” you answer, because you’d rather die than give Tim the satisfaction. “His showstopper was incredible, but he was really great the whole competition.”

In the end, however, neither of them wins—it’s Jeon Wonwoo, three-tiered cake guy, who comes out of nowhere to claim first place. He’s bashful as he accepts his prize and says he’s going to donate the prize money to an organization that provides underprivileged kids with video game equipment. No one has a whole lot to say about that.

Once most of the hubbub dies down (and you give Tim a half-assed you did great, so sorry you didn’t win), you find Minghao near the refreshments table. He’s frowning around another mug of tea. “Alright?” you ask, helping yourself to some cider.

“For some reason, I’m no longer feeling very festive,” he replies, which is a very funny thing to say while wearing a hat with a little pom-pom on the top.

You roll your lips to keep from laughing. Sidle in a little closer and knock his shoulder with your own. “Ah, I know how you feel, but you really did do great. You were my pick to win, for what it’s worth.”

“Please don’t tell me that. It only makes me feel worse for losing.”

“Yeah.” You sigh. “Would’ve been nice to donate some money to the cats, but shit, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve sworn some dark force was sabotaging me. Like, come on—forgetting to preheat the oven? Using the wrong sugar? Not even a kid would’ve made those mistakes.”

Two things happen in rapid succession: beside you, Minghao goes very, very stiff, and you realize you had been sabotaged. And not by some dark, evil force, either. You were sabotaged by the very man standing beside you—the man you shared thumbs-up with and thought was your friend. The man whose cake you complimented and picked to win. The man who is now standing ramrod straight, as tense as a corpse, and the thought of sabotaging someone in a charity baking competition is so ridiculous and unbelievable that you just—

You just laugh.

At first, it’s a bark of stunned laughter. Then, the more it sinks in how absurd, how nonsensical all of this is, you can’t stop. Tears are rolling down your cheeks. You gasp for breath as your stomach begins to ache. People are staring, including Minghao, who sort of can’t believe what he’s seeing, but none of it does anything to deter you.

“Oh my god,” you wheeze, “I can’t believe it was you—”

Minghao groans. “In my defense, it was for the cats!”

This was not the answer you were expecting. It makes you laugh harder. “What do you mean it was for the cats?”

He swallows. Removes the mitten from one hand to run it through his hair as if that one tic was enough to distract you from everything that’s happened in the last sixty seconds. (It is.) “Listen, you told me you were going to donate the money to a cat charity if you won and I just—so was I, was the thing. I was also going to donate the money to a cat charity if I won—”

“Okay, but which one, though?”

“The Cat’s Paw-jamas.” Much to Minghao’s horror, this sets you off again. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Minghao,” you try to choke out, but you can barely breathe around the cramp in your stomach. “Minghao, that’s the charity I was going to donate to. Oh my god, you sabotaged me and I was going to donate to—to the same fucking place. Jesus Christ, this is some Gift of the Magi shit.”

Your saboteur, who has gone deathly pale, is quiet for a very long time. Every now and then he’ll open his mouth like he’s going to say something before it snaps shut again. When he does manage to speak, what comes out are mangled apologies that sound like gibberish, and you wave all of them away. “It’s water under the bridge.”

“I—I really don’t think it should be?”

“Minghao, it’s fine, trust me, this was just for fun—”

“No, I really insist.”

You sigh, good-natured and exasperated. Something about the fake snow has you feeling romantic and a little bold, so you turn, grab him by the lapels of his coat. “Please tell me if I’m misreading this, but if you insist, maybe you can start by taking me to dinner…?”

This was clearly not what MInghao was expecting you to say. Dazed, he recovers quickly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in a half-smirk. “Dinner, hm?” You nod. “I think I can manage that.”

You smile. “Great. How do you feel about cat cafes?”

#winterwithyoucollab #minghao x reader #seventeen x reader #minghao fluff #seventeen imagines #minghao imagines #seventeen fluff

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shidouryusm · 1 year ago

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✿༝༚༝༚ Wrapped in red ✿༝༚༝༚

・❥・Kuroo x reader

・❥・synopsis-> hey siri, what are the consequences of surprising your fiancé with a lingerie under a coat for his birthday?

・❥・ word count-> 5.6k words (nobody look at me)

・❥・content warning-> mdni, explicit smut, fem!reader, cun!lli!ngu$

・❥・a.n -> this is the last time I'll be reposting this if tumblr still doesn't like me I got nothing to do. Tagging a bunch of my mutuals so that atleast they can enjoy. may your cheese rot tumblr. Also happy kuroo day ignore I'm this late everyday is kuroo day stfu. dividers by @cafekitsune , @benkeibear and @quirrrky

Kuroo can feel the chills of the winter already settling in mid-November. The expanse of his living room is veiled with a thin layer of frigidness. The tiles were cold and a siren of silence rings through till the ends, until the little clock resting on the small table breaks through the curse with the beginning of a new day. 17th November. He stares at the clock. The slick hands points to 12, busy announcing his 29th birthday. It is a small, black, cat shaped clock that you found from god knows where and gifted him out of blue. Your justification being “it looks like you”. Kuroo snickers at the sudden wave of memory.

A whole lot of other things around his house are also extensions of you – the little section of potted plants on the shelves, the matching coffee cups, the red mittens hanging over the oven handle, kitchen magnets comprising pictures from both of your trip to Paris. They all are like pockets of your shadow scattered around, giving little hints of the day when you’ll ultimately mark your reign as the Mrs. of this house.

But as of tonight, each of them wildly indicates your lack of presence. Kuroo discerns that the silence was not any call of winter, rather it’s the sheer absence of your chortles and excited squeals around the house, especially tonight.

Kuroo was never that big on celebrating his birthdays, being on a competitive position in corporate asked for lot of compromises and Kuroo had wired himself to do that in his early years on job, not caring about forgetting his birthdays and stuff. Still, he manages to dig up time when it comes to yours or others. The man that he always is - relentless in his acts of services.

However, you being around never quite made it possible for Kuroo to actually forget about his day. Always the more excited one, the best planner and as always, a little better than the previous years. Whether it be by throwing a grand party in a club for him or just by yourselves, with home cooked mackerel and rice, catching the golden sunset above and just savouring the day with a casket of good memories to look back on. Or it may be simply you by his side that makes each of his birthdays something to look forward to, even while being clutched by stress and non-stop work.

He was indeed getting spoiled by such pampering because, as of this moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to be around you. To bask in the incessant warmth of your hugs and engulf himself in the pool of your kisses. Fuck. he really wishes you weren’t drowned in your work right now just so your singsong voice of Happy Birthday could reach his ears the first. He peers at his phone, several texts from his co-workers and friends wishing him were flooded in his notification bar, along with your last text, sent over an hour ago.

Love♡♡ : work is so crazy right now, they should pay me for even gracing them my time this late >:(( anyways, good night. love you tets <;33

Nothing after that. He stares at the text. You weren’t online which meant you are either too busy in work or have already fallen asleep…without wishing him?

A small twinge of hurt pinched his heart at the thought of it. Although he tries to reason it with your pressure at work. But it’s been like this for a few days, you completely submerged in work, barely getting the chance to even facetime, not being overly zealous atleast 3 business days before his birthday.

The little red demon above his head tries to play tricks yet his heart works with rationale – leading two projects at the same time meant things will slip up. Distance may be bound to form. Who knows? even paths of life may deviate from one another and eventually-

His train of thought cuts short by the sharp ring of the doorbell. It’s 12:30 already. Kuroo internally pleads that it’s not some surprise by his former teammates because without you, he doesn’t think he will indulge even a slightest bit.

The door swings open and so does kuroo’s jaw. You, in your full glory, a ginormous beige jacket wrapped all over you, hair dishevelled from the wind, yet framing the most beautiful face in the world, stand at the threshold, panting and holding a large box of what seems like a cake.

“Oh my gosh tetsu, I was almost about to punch the baker. Dumbass messed up my whole timing”

Kuroo was still busy steadying himself but he shifts from his place, allowing you to scoot past him and settle yourself in the dining seat, placing the cake there.

Weren’t you asleep? Weren’t you way too busy to come? What is going on?

He looks at you, making yourself comfortable at his space, like you are just meant to fit inside these 4 walls. The frosty silence suddenly vanishing by the cauldron of warmth you bring with you everywhere. He can’t wait for the day when it will be regular sight.

“Baby, are you gonna stand there the whole night?” you giggle, striding towards his still figure beside the doorway. You hook your arms around his waist, your head tipping back as you stand on your toes, planting a soft kiss over his lips.

Kuroo’s eyes flutters shut as he draws himself into every fleeting moment of this kiss. His hands find your cheeks and large palms cradles them as gently as a rose petal, head dipping down to take in more of the feeling of your lips against him. The taste of your cherry balm engulfing him.

You part from him, merely inches away as your lower lips bruses against each other. You whisper into the small gap, “Happy Birthday, my love. I’m not too late, am I?”

“Doesn’t matter when your wish is what makes it worth. I almost thought you forgot” he hums, hands curling up against your neck, urging you to look at him. You crane your head up, meeting those honeyed eyes pooling with a multitude of emotions.

“Awe you miss me that much? I have been real quiet this year on purpose. Trying something a little different”, you cheekily say, poking your tongue out. Kuroo quirks an eyebrow, “always a step ahead, aren’t you?” he pecks your forehead while a small whisper of “I love you. Thank you for making this day something to look forward to” grazes over your skin. Your feel the kaleidoscope of butterflies zooming inside your ribcage, for the way his words echoed through the drums of your heart. As if the resonance between his and your heart just created more love to harbour.

"Tetsu", you grab his face, dipping his tall frame downwards to place another kiss. This time between his eyes. Hoping this kiss was equivalent to the million words he said with those gaze a few seconds ago.

You take his hand, pulling him towards the cake, “now now, it’s not the time to be all mopey. I fought for this cake and now you get to commemorate this day of high significance”. Kuroo chuckles, you were full of beans indeed.

To think just a few moments back his thoughts were spiralling, he registers that that how much you being by his side grounds his inner monologue of hidden insecurity. Kuroo is always the epitome of confident man but the inner cloud of anxiety yet rumbles time to time. Until, your presence acts like the yellowy sunshine after rain, banishing any grey thoughts that dare to delude him.

“Why such high significance, may I ask?” you roll your eyes, amusement twinkling in your eyes and you answer like this is the most simple question ever, “Because you got to be born and be my boyfriend and then my groom-to-be, duh”, wiggling the left ring finger, you laugh. Shaking his head, he tunes into the peals of laughter with you. He cuts the cake, feeding you a piece before noticing you were still in your coat.

“Baby, are you that cold? You know you could wait a bit more for your winter cloth haul” he gestures at the neck high coat. You squirm a little. He finally noticed.

“y-yeah, I know. there’s a…reason”, you send a sheepish smile on his way, effectively avoiding his gaze.

Kuroo reaches towards you, curious at your shift in demeanor. He leans down, meeting your gaze with his ever sharp ones and you found yourself faltering a bit, heartbeat pacing higher than normal.

“Princess, are you okay? you got a fever?” he runs his hand over your forehead to which you shake your head. Taking his fingers in yours, your fingertips glides over his knuckles. Unable to stall in any longer, you slung your arms around his neck.

“Actually, I have your gift”, bringing your mouth closer to his ear as you whisper, “right under”, you murmur. His hand is now brought on your lower back, the feel of your skin right underneath the coat, clearly evident.

Kuroo sucks in a breath, catching on to your innuendo immediately. Palms migrates towards your shoulder blades where he can feel the thin strap and bare skin over the coat. Curiosity killed the cat and now he just got fucking murdered.

“Hmmm? Should’ve said it earlier, princess.” kuroo hums, a mellowy timbre coating his voice. You gulp audibly, anticipating his moves.

His hands trail over your shoulders, reaching up and stop around the collar of your coat, playing with the top button as he flashes his Cheshire like smile. Demeanor changing from concerned to smug in a flash of light. You keep your eyes on him, heavy breaths escapes your nose and mouth. Kuroo leans forward, his voice now merely a whisper tickling your ears.

“Should I guess what my present is?” he asks coyly. You can feel the teasing glint the words carry.

“You can open it already, y’know?” your voice had an air of neediness, wanting nothing more than to indulge in his touches and losing yourself in him for the night.

Kuroo tuts, shaking his head in faux disappointment, “tsk tsk tsk. it’s my present, princess. Let me enjoy it. in my way”. With that, he flicks the button open, his eyes catching a hint of red around your neck. A dark chuckle escapes his throat.

“Red, huh? You surely did some homework before”, another button pops open, this time, the base of your throat open up and a little red ribbon wrapped around the middle like a bow greets him.

Kuroo felt his heart thrumming loudly, imagining what he could find after fully unbuttoning your coat. The suspense of the act spiking his blood and rushing downwards towards his crotch, he can already feel himself getting hard. God, you really knew how to outdo yourself every single year.

Kuroo presses a kiss right beside that bow, feeling your erratic pulse against his lips. It curls into a smirk, right against your skin. You tip your head back, eyes closing and hands finding their way to the hem of his shirt.

“Uh-uh, princess. Not so early.” Kuroo envelopes his hands over yours, before bringing them together behind your back, caging you between his hold. His right hand, once again, flits back in its previous mission while his left hooks both of yours ; effectively locking them behind your back. “Not until I’m done unwrapping my present”. A kiss plants underneath your ear; the skin tingling with its effect.

“You sure are taking a hell lot of time” you scorn. Kuroo chortles, popping another button open. This time a part of your sternum peeps out, he can make out the hint of cleavage from the skin exposed. More blood runs downwards and kuroo fights the urge to tear the coat off and bend you against the table to ravage you then and there.

“Good things take time, princess. Moreover, you seem to enjoy it.” Kuroo muses, his hips roll against yours and you could feel the hardness of his crotch brushing up against your lower belly. “Take this as a punishment for being late to my birthday” he opens another button and the lace cupped cleavage makes their way.

“But it wasn’t my fault.” you pout. You’re so adorable, kuroo thinks. He laughs under his breath before pressing a soft kiss against your cheek. His hands trail over your sternum, dipping down towards the fat of tits spilling out before he ghosts over them ever so slightly, drawing a whine out of you from the untouched touch.

“Oh but you were…” he drawls, “to think you went outside like this. Being a naughty little girl, are we now, princess?”. You open your mouth to say something but his lips silences yours. His tongue almost immediately finding its way in your mouth and playing with yours.

The kiss was sloppy with the way kuroo laps at your top lip, engulfing it in his mouth, saliva smears over your upperlips and drips down your lowers. The steamy makeout session in addition to the his hips grinding against your coat covered crotch leaves you staggering.

One by one, he unbuttons the whole coat till the end, each time kissing a part of you he passes in the process, to all the way down, where he is kneeling. He looks above to see your figure hugged by this beautiful dark red fabric, only covering the bare necessities.

He is eye level with your bare thigh, the plush skin adorned by a thin lacy garter, linked to the equally thin panties with a small band of cloth. You feel his hand runs across the back of your thigh, the cool band of your engagement ring gliding smoothly over your skin. The pads of his fingers dip down a little deep when he reaches your almost bare ass.

“Fuck. what I’d do to you” you hear him murmur against your lace clad thigh. He scrapes his teeth against the fabric, peeling it off and exposing the beautiful skin out. The sharpness of his teeth mingles with the softness of his lips as he sucks and nips at the skin, leaving a purple well of mark around that area. Your breath hitches as you feel the dull throb of the hickey while he continues his ministration all over your inner thighs.

“We better take this to the room before I end up taking you right here” his teeth still ghosts over your skin, now attaching around the band of your garter, tugging it gently before releasing it back, the elastic smacking your skin, causing a whine to tumble out your throat. His actions causing your pussy clench around the fabric.

He continues his journey up with his mouth before reaching your pussy. The material doing nothing to hide the outline of your cunt and looking closely enough he sees the dampness that is caused by your arousal. His fingers join in, smoothing upwards over the fabric gently. A moan leaves your lips, with the way he is being tantalisingly slow. If you could, you would have shoved his fingers inside.

“Already wet and I barely did anything, baby. Wait for the real action atleast” his voice sardonic and praising simultaneously. He plants a kiss right over your crotch before trailing upwards.

“Tetsu, you little-” you whine to which kuroo snickers. He loves you to death but he loves it more than anything when he is edging you and you are writhing and pleading.This is when he gets the chance fill you to brim with pleasure. The power surge he gets from this is immeasurable, when nothing leaves your mouth except his name.

“What, my darling?” kuroo kisses below your navel, his lips smoothing over the surface with no friction. He peppers your stomach with nips and kisses before reaching under your breasts. A small kiss between the valley of your tits and then he finally rises up. He caresses the sides of your breats before holding you by your waist, squeezing you gently,pulling your figure flush against him. His hardened member now rocking against you with less obstruction.

Kuroo tugs the coat off of your shoulder and it pools around your ankle, revealing your whole set to your fiance. Kuroo gawks at your figure, as if time stopped its track for him to drink your body with his eyes.

“God you’re fucking beautiful” his voice low and husk filled. Kuroo peppers kisses on the curve of your shoulders, hiking his lips up into the crevice of your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses trailing towards your jaw.

You have always been the prettiest for him but this colour on you has popped out every feature of yours in the most alluring, elegant way. Kuroo huffs out short breaths as his eyes find it difficult to tear away from you, he eyes you from down to up before his eyes land on that ribbon.

Oh fuck that ribbon. The way you made yourself like a present, kuroo is positive there isn’t any better gift in the whole planet than the one before his eyes. His lips find you again, passion and lust permeating through the kiss. His hands reach up to your breasts and he gives them a good squeeze. The nipples pert and poking through the cloth against his palm.

He guides your body along with his towards the bedroom without breaking the kiss, stumbling along the way but nonetheless reaching towards the edge of the bed. He pushes you, still connected with your lips, cradling your head before you fall into the heap of soft mattress. His body hovers over yours and one of his knees positions dangerously close to your cunt.

“We gotta take this off before I tear it and that is the last thing I wanna do” kuroo husks, his hand deftly working their way to take off the top.

Not that it did anything to cover what’s underneath, yet as he removes the bra and sees your tits spill out, he couldn’t help but take one in his mouth. Fondling the other one with his hand.

The feel of his mouth finally somewhere on you has you teetering on the edge, you let out out a moan. Your hands rake through his ink black locks while he tugs you nipple with his teeth. His knee presses against your almost bare pussy the sensation spikes your insides.

Your hands reach for his shirt once again, urging him to take it off , to which he obliges but not before remarking something about it.

“Can’t wait to see me naked, guess I can indulge in your desire a little bit”, you roll your eyes. Smug bastard. You feel him shift downwards, his knees touching the floor while leaving you sprawling on the bed, he adjusts your legs around his shoulders before scooting downwards.

His hands plays around your nipples, twisting and turning while his mouth travels south. He lets his teeth do the work, pulling at the underwear and tugging it off of you, finally letting the sight of your clenched cunt soothe his eyes. The way he keeps a unbreaking eye contact while doing the dirtiest of act makes your arousal seep down your cunt even more. He tugs the panties halfway through before teething at the garter again, slowly dragging it across you skin and pulling it off.

“Practising for the big day, princess” he grunts, taking them off of you fully. You let out a light croon, even amidst the unholy acts of provocation, the gentle reminder of your promised near future sends you into a blissful train of thought.

Kuroo’s sharp nip at your inner thigh brings you back. He stares at you with drooping eyes, silently challenging you to not break the contact as he lowers himself over your slit. He licks a stripe of your pussy, the feel of his tongue like millions of fireworks inside your nerves. You silently breath out a gasp while kuroo begins his onslaught of kitten licks over your cunt. Gradually reaching to your clit. He presses a kiss over the nub before capturing it with his mouth, gently sucking on it.

His tongue flicks your now swollen clit as you rock your body, bringing him closer, as if it’s anyways possible. Your mingled sounds of squeals and moans and whines mixes with the soft squelch of his fingers entering you. He prods them gently over your walls, knowing where to stretch and poke to evoke the most raw reaction from you.

“Tetsu…fuck...aah..” your voice are nothing more than little tufts of breaths as he shifts his pace every so often, while never leaving your puffed clit unattended. The alternate of his tongue and fingers works wonders to roll you over the edge.

“Cum for me, baby” you hear his raspy voice vibrating across your skin, he sloppily makes out with your slit before driving his tongue inside, his face tilts as he tries to reach as deep inside you as he can. The grip of his hands on your thighs tightening. His cock feels heavy and the burning desire to replace it with his tongue flames his inside – but not before he makes you cum like this atleast twice.

Two of his fingers drum over your clit while his tongue prods inside you. His jaw hurts but nothing matters when he gets to see the expression he draws out of you. Mouth falls open, while your head tips back. Not giving a damn about keeping eye contact because fuck if you could have exploded out of your body, you would.

Kuroo groans at the irresistible feel of your essence around his tongue, “tastes so good for me”, he hums around your pussy. You could feel the wave of arousal waiting to burst and as you hear the words escape his mouth, your body reacts on accord. Back arches beautifully as you release yourself against kuroo’s lips.

Your mind levitates in the cloud of bliss while you feel Kuroo laps at your essence, the drag of his lips against you too euphoric. to joyful to get down from. But even while being on the daze, you feel Kuroo going at your pussy once again.

“T-Tetsu…hnnggh”, you can feel the added force that his tongue applies as it drives inside you once again.

“You thought I’d leave you to come around my tongue only once.” he rasps, his nose brushes against the overstimulated clit. He nuzzled himself against your cunt, his hands reaching over your ass and kneading the soft flesh. You let a wanton moan, too loud for the neighbours to not hear. Kuroo smiles, tongue thrusting inside your cushiony walls even more.

You could feel your body quivering, preparing itself for another wave of orgasm not long after the previous one. You tug at his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp. Your other hand grabs at your breast to hold onto something. A sight Kuroo savours from behind his bangs that cover his face.

“I’m gonna…” you whine, thighs jolting around his arms while he keeps them locked. “Make a mess around my face, darling. Let go.” Kuroo was getting delirious at your taste. His cock nearly bursting his load in his pants. He rubs against the board of the bed, releasing some friction. He can sense your orgasm looming and naturally, he increases the pace, tumbling you over the edge for the second time. His teeth grazes the clit, giving it some attention before a harsh suckle has you going for the 2nd time that night.

Your back arches, juices spraying out of your pussy. Kuroo is enthralled seeing you this dirty, this sexy, this sinful. You didn’t hold back your sounds either, sweet melodies of his name with pleasured moans ringing throughout the room and satisfying Kuroo’s ears as he succeeds in making you spent.

Not that he intends to stop yet.

Your body is still quivering, the afterwave of the pleasure still gushing inside your body. Kuroo caresses your thighs and hips, coaxing your body to relax.

“You did so well, my sweet baby. looking gorgeous cumming around my face like that”, kuroo engulfs your mouth, his tongue shoves yours around and you decide to suck the tip of his tongue, relishing in the tangy essence of yours. A moan erupts from the man above as your wrap your hands around his sculpted back, losing yourself in the kiss.

Kuroo helps you get down from the high before flipping you over. You notice the way he positioned you both, you are right in front of the dressing mirror.

When did he even do that?

Kuroo kneads your ass from behind, while another hand grabs your chin to make you look at the mirror.

“Eyes up there, baby. Watch how I fuck this little pussy into oblivion”, you can feel his clothed cock grinding against your ass. Whimpering, you wiggle back, feeling more of him, causing Kuroo to suck in a breath.

“Behave, darling.” Kuroo lightly smacks your ass, watching the flesh ripple and groaning at the sight.

You look over your shoulders at him. He looks so broad, the toned sculpture of his long hours at gym and sports really gifted you with a goldy sight. His face flushed with crimson and copper eyes blown out with lust. The contour of his abs to sexy to not gawk 24/7. His sweatpants are already hung low, cock whipped out, hard and swollen. The tip angry with precum dripping down the globes of your ass. You try to shift back, intending to return the favour he generously gave you a while back.

But Kuroo , not-so-gently puts you back on your position, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you against the sheets. Your ass hiked up more to flash the clenching pussy in the air. The cold draft blowing around your sticky folds making you shiver.

“Tetsu!” you exclaim, as he starts dragging his length over your folds, adding more of his arousal with yours, the spot lubed and moist for Kuroo to slide right in.

“What did I say about behaving, princess? Are you looking for to get punished?” his voice dark and menacing, only reserved for you, in the bed. You shake your head, eyes locked with his through the mirror. Your nipples brush against your sheets with the way you are bent, adding more to the sensation.

You try to tug off the red ribbon, not wanting any ounce of fabric on your skin when kuroo grabs your hand, harshly. Hooking it over your back, he hikes your body up a little higher, his cock straight against your fold, the tip hitting snug the clit. His eyes are narrowed, eyes a little menacing,

“Don’t you dare take that off. This stays on.” his voice low. You mewled an okay, too entranced with the way he looks behind your back to notice his manhandling.

“That’s my girl”, kuroo hums before sliding inside you with ease. The remnants of previous shenanigans making it easy. Your mouth falls in a O as you feel the ridge of his cock gliding past your walls. With each of his inch bottoming inside you, you let out a moan, voice deliriously filthy. The sounds like a dulcet for him.

He rams the last of his inch at once, making your body lurch forward. Your face scrunched in a beautiful frown, teeth digging at your lips. Hair falls over your face as you dip your head down to adjust to his size. Kuroo becomes too busy admiring your features through the mirror. You look like a goddess, a goddess he brought down on her knees before him.

He was probably too enticed because it wasn’t until the roll of your hips around his pelvis that dragged him down to where he was. “T-tetsu. movee” , he hears your plead.

“As you say, baby girl.” kuroo starts drilling his cockinside, sliding in and out of you, the head colliding with the gummy walls near your cervix. You were pushed forward with the intensity of his thrust yet the feeling of his prominent vein grinding inside your wall was too heavenly to complain.

It was him and you, intertwined with each other, knocking the door of lust but beneath it was promises of love.

The grip of his fingers around your hip was deathly. It sure is gonna leave a dent. Kuroo grunts and groans as he watches the base of cock froth with both of your juices. The squelching sound everytime he enters you fills the room along with the slaps of the skin.

You could feel his balls hitting you right above the clit, light strokes against them making you dizzy . His hands snakes around your stomach, reaching your clit. He takes the nub between his two fingers, rolling them around and pinches it. You squeal at his actions, back bending away from him, but the grip of his arm around keeps you flush.

“Your pussy is made right for me. Almost made me bust a nut the moment I slid my cock inside, sh-shit. so fucking tight and clenching” , his words are so vile, yet so sweet to hear. He bends down, back flush with his chest as he presses a hoard of kisses around your nape and shoulders. Suckling the skin and leaving out purple marks in its wake.

“Tetsu..more…you feel so good against me” you cry, eyes rolling with the way he is snapping his hips against yours. The constant assault over your g-spot inside and the clit outside once again announces the impending avalanche.

“More you say? Greedy girl.” he rasps before hoisting you up, one hand still playing with your clit while the other finding your left breast.

Cupping the whole fat of it, he squeezes the mound hard. His hips unrelenting with their strokes. The bed creaks from the sudden movement. The headboard banged against the wall once. Now the neighbours are definitely gonna know.

“So fucking beautiful. Truly the best gift ever, princess. I love you so much”, you turn sideways to face him, his molten amber eyes mirroring the heart eyes you are sending him across.

You capture his lips in a soft kiss, your hands reaching his face to cradle the sides and pulling the front tufts a little. Vibrations of hums and moans share between you two in the kiss, while both your bodies work on their own accord. The golden light of the lamp falls over your skin, the golden iridescence reflecting of your skin makes you nothing less than a fallen angel. The halo like glow of your body makes Kuroo's heart gallop loudly. Makes him wonder how he managed to find someone as perfect as you are.

“Look at the mirror. See how ethereal you look while taking me like that. God really took time while making you” , you chuckle at his cheesy words. No matter how dominant he acts in bed, at the end it was still your dorky, corny Tetsu.

You zero in the way he fucks you, the outline of his cock visible as he drills into you. A dragged moan fills the air. kuroo kisses around your temple, his thrusts erratically hits you, losing rhythm. You realise he’s close, so you arch your back, feeling more of him inside. Fucking himself inside you.

Kuroo hisses at the act, his fingers pinching your clit in return. Your walls clamp around his shaft, making him lose all the threads he had been holding onto ever since he buried his face in your cunt.

“Shit, baby...take me…take all of it. Let's cum together”, his babbles choking in his throat as he thrusts in you one last time before warm ropes of his cum fills your pussy. You came around the same time, pooling his thighs with hot, sticky mess.

He kisses you throughout the high, a level of euphoria never felt before. He realises he didn’t use any condom today neither did you retorted against it. Kuroo slides out of you, your cunt clenches from the lack of his heavy cock. He gently lays you down, bringing a wet towel and cleaning off the spilled cum from your thighs and his. Your face beams with the post-coital bliss as you spread your arms over your head, breathing heavily.

“You good?”, kuroo asks, his voice regaining the gentle hold back. You nod, closing your eyes and relaxing yourself.

“If I knew you’d go this crazy over a lingerie set, I’d have thought it through before buying.” you breathily say, seeing Kuroo’s face turn a little red. The debauchery dawning on him a little.

“You could wear an overalls over a trash bag and I’d still fuck you the same. It’s you who’s this hot”, Kuroo plants a sloppy kiss on your cheek, his hands smoothing your hair. He scoots you over, finding himself a space beside, pulling you against his side. His fingers work through your scalp while you find warmth in his body.

The comfortable setting almost lulling you to sleep before you lurch up, face palming yourself. Kuroo sits back, concerned at your sudden leap, while you look at him with guilty eyes.

“I forgot your actual gift at home, while being too excited for this one.”, you hide your face between your palm, whining and falling back on his chest. A hearty laughter rolls out of Kuroo at your state while he rubs your shoulders. His mind already bent on to tease you.

“Wanna suck me off to balance that out?” kuroo sends a sly grin your way, his voice holding a glint of tease but really not expecting you to wallow in.

To his surprise, you part away from his chest, face filled with a challenging gleam. Without any words, you straddle him, holding his cock by the base. A dopey smile spreading all over your face.

“Say less. I’ve been meaning to do that since forever.”

a.n-> aint nobody leaving the house without giving him a sloppy. if tags dont work and it flops then im giving him an even intense sloppy

comments, likes, reblogs are appreciated

tagging : @stsgluver , @kuroosexuall @shotorus + @satoruhour @hannzai @tetzoro @mrs-kurooo @quirrrky @pastelle-rabbit @planetnini @selarina @sookisaurus @itadorey @utahimeow @this-is-still-mia @kamorikiri @shoyostar @screampied-main

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luveline · 2 years ago

Note

you did this with Steve and James but I would love a Remus fic where they are play fighting and he accidentally hurts her

for u my love boyfriend!remus x reader

Remus can be intimidating when he wants to be usually, but on top of you like this with a huge smile on his face and his eyes lit with excitement, he's the opposite of scary.

"I'm gonna make you sorry," he threatens.

You have your hands joined and held in front of you, pushing him away so he can't kiss you. You never know how you and Remus get into these situations, playfulness bordered by a fierce competitiveness that means neither of you are willing to back down, no matter how badly you'd both like a quick kiss.

"You couldn't make a puppy sorry, Remus," you say, huffing at the strain and effort it takes to hold him up when he's this desperate to reach you.

He ignores your hands, his fingers squeezing yours brutally in hopes you'll give in, and ducks down into your space anyhow. The bed groans beneath you as your squirm away, pushing your hand (with his still twined into it) against his handsome face.

"You suck," you trash talk, "and you won't win!"

"I always win," he says, which isn't explicitly true.

"No! You give me the giggles and I can't fight back, you cheat!"

Remus presses harder against your palms. "I don't cheat! Dove, I swear to fuck, if you don't let me kiss you–"

"You'll what?"

"I'll kiss you!" he warns.

And there it is, he's making you laugh, and when you laugh you get distracted and your resolve weakens. Your arms shake in his hold as you do. Remus sees an in, pressing forward hard. You startle and he startles at your startling —he tries to back off, but you know he's already falling forward. You flinch and pull your arm up, fingers tangled in his, too late to shield your face as his chin connects with your nose with a loud smack.

You both curse at the same time. Tears are instantaneous in your eyes, the shock of a whack to the nose inescapable.

"Ouch," you whine, though you have enough sense to see the humour in the situation. You're a little winded. Remus really did fall smack dab on top of you. "You okay, babe?"

Remus pulls your hair by accident as he pushes himself off of you, and your hiss visibly panics him. The fog of pain clears from his expression, and your sweetheart hurries to check you're alright.

"I'm fine, are you okay?" he asks, hand on your face, turning your chin up to better see your nose in the light. "I'm so sorry, dovey, I don't know how I– fuck, your nose is bleeding a bit."

"It is?" you ask. Remus is quick to press his sleeve to your nostril, which feels quite tender, now that he mentions it.

"Oh, no," he murmurs, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek. His palm is warm, the roughness of his pen-wrought callus familiar against your skin. "Dove, I'm sorry. Don't cry."

You blink hurriedly. "No, I'm not crying. It's just 'cos it hurts."

You don't mean for it to come out that way, you're trying to explain that your tears are because he's hit you in the face with his face and there are delicately interconnected systems under the surface being disrupted, but Remus takes it for an admission of pain and goes berserk, which is to say he dotes on you as though you've broken something. Soft kisses pressed to your cheek, whispered reassurances. You try to tell him it doesn't matter, that he's being too much, but it's so wildly nice to be cared for that the words get stuck in your throat.

"It only bled a little," he reassures. "Do you want me to get you an ice pack?"

You nod silently, enamoured with him, wanting to bask in the warmth of his attention just as long as you can.

"Okay," he says, climbing off of you to leave and find one. He doubles back before he reaches the door, and when he leans over you, he smiles wryly. "Told you I'd get that kiss, didn't I?"

You laugh breathlessly and let him kiss you. He's very cautious to avoid your nose.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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foli-vora · 28 days ago

Text

masterlist | foli jolly xmas list

A/N: gif by moi. Yeah I recycled the same from part 2 idc. Are you telling me it's been two fucking years since I wrote this? Get out. The flow of time is fake. Everything was against me this week trying to get this fucking thing out but I finally got there! Merry late Christmas, angels! Thank you all for being so fucking wonderful and supportive and patient with me while I worked out a really messy year and I wish you all nothing but the very best! Enjoy x

Word count: just shy of 7k

Warnings: cheesy hallmark romance, I want to be kissed by a cowboy under the mistletoe. Swearing, this hot af man, a solid semi-public make out sesh with said hot af man, SOFTNESS! so much fucking softness I want to throw up, smut with all the feels 18+ ONLY: soft and sweet and so fucking tender I'm so into it, fingering, oral (f rec), this man practically makes out with pussy and I won't hear otherwise, bit of hair pulling, mention of the implanon, unprotected p in v and a christmas creampie yay

PART ONE | PART TWO

It’s quite the occasion, he finds. This Christmas Eve ball-party thing. The whole town and more is there, crammed into the town hall decorated heavily with tinsel and lights and spilling out onto the snowy grounds around in the form of various food and Christmas stalls. There are craft tables full of parents with their kids, a little choir singing carols, and people having a snowman contest in the taped off carpark.

There’s an older man dressed as Santa sitting on a big seat for family photos, joyfully laughing and ho-ho-hoing as kids wander by in awe. Jack watches on comfortably, not yet interested in pursuing any of the stalls or food until he knows if you and the kids have eaten.

Despite his general dislike of the holiday, it’s hard to not feel… well, merry, and it has a content smile tugging at his lips. If Tequila could see him now, he’d never let him live it down. He’d get matching Christmas ties or some other ridiculous shit. Maybe there’s somewhere he could buy one for the agent here, he’s sure you’d find that funny.

“That’s not the real Santa,” Gabe says suddenly, appearing beside him.

Jack startles from being broken from his mental reverie, briefly wondering if a couple of weeks worth of leave had gone and ruined his well tuned Statesman senses. Champ would only have himself to blame. He turns expectantly, heart hammering wildly from the hope you’d be only a few paces behind your boy, but when he looks he finds you nowhere to be seen.

Gabe continues, oblivious to the way Jack shifts and deflates next to him.

“The real one’s too busy, so he gets George to step in. He does it every year.”

“Is that right? Suppose he would be a busy man.”

“Are you kidding? One night to get around the whole world? Dude’s insane.”

Jack grins, looking down at the boy and noting his styled hair. “You’re lookin’ sharp tonight, kid. You brush your hair?”

“Mum made me,” Gabe grumbles, ruffling his neatened curls with a thick gloved hand. “She’s in the hall with Lou, if you were wondering.”

“And why would I be wonderin’ that?”

The boy gives him a look, something bordering the line of smug and Jack rolls his eyes, giving him a gentle shove. Jesus, even the damn kid knows.

“Cut it out.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t have to. Now go on, lead the way. And stop lookin’ at me like that, or I’ll tell the big guy you need to go on the naughty list this year.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would. Believe me. You think he doesn’t know about you hustlin’ me out of my hard earned money? You’re messin’ with fire, kid. You’re probably already on it.”

—

“Should’ve gotten more lights. I told him, you know.” Edith tuts to herself, frowning up at the hall ceiling.

You briefly pause from fussing over the cake competition table and glance up at the warm fairy lights dangled and intertwined between tinsel and garlands. She’s worrying over nothing, as always. Every year it’s a winter wonderland—inside and out, and this year is certainly no different. Has Jack seen it all yet? What does he think of it?

“Edith, any more lights and people would need sunglasses in here. Everything looks wonderful, as always. Now please relax and have some rum with your eggnog before your heart gives out. You don’t need to worry about anything tonight, leave it to the committee.”

“The only thing I’ll worry about is you not getting on top of that cowboy.”

You and me both, Edith.

You snort, directing your attention back to the cake stands and ensuring every label was front and centre. “On second thought, maybe stay away from the rum.”

“Speaking of the cowboy, here he comes. Fix your dress.”

“What’s wrong with my dress?”

It’s too late to worry, that southern drawl melts into your ears as he jokes about something with Gabe within the next few seconds and suddenly your insides are twisting and turning upside down. You play around with the table some more, gathering up a bit of courage before turning and smiling at Jack.

“Hi,” you breathe softly, cheeks already warming as his eyes meet yours.

Does this man ever not look like pure sin?

“Hey sugar,” he greets with a grin of his own. “You look incredible.”

“Oh, this old thing?” You tease, running a hand over the brand new dress you had painstakingly agonised over in an attempt to impress a stranger only in town for a few weeks. You’d spent an admittedly ridiculous amount of time in the local boutique trying and retrying dresses trying to find the right one. God, he doesn’t need to know that. “Not looking too bad yourself, cowboy.”

“Save a dance for me, won’t you, Jack?” Edith rasps sweetly, acting the innocent and delicate elderly lady and tapping his arm softly.

“Just try and stop me, ma’am.”

She wanders off into the crowds, more than happy to be stopped along her way to be praised on the decorations. She’s still going on about the damn lights.

“So what’s all this?” Jack asks in interest, body brushing yours as he steps up beside you to eye the table.

“It’s the yearly Christmas bake off, which I unfortunately have to judge as the town's resident baker.”

“Unfortunately?”

“I don’t like judging people's creations. They’re all wonderful and everyone always puts so much effort into it… makes me feel like a villain when I have to pick winners.”

Gabe steps up on your other side and eyes this year's entries. “Mum made a kid cry last year.”

Jack laughs in surprise. “What?”

“I didn’t know it was made by a child, okay?” You stress, rubbing along your brow line as last year's nightmare plays in your mind. After pinning the ribbons in place, a ten year old girl had promptly fallen into tears after not being given one, and you’d felt guilty about it for fucking weeks after. “If I had known, I would’ve picked them.”

“Well that defeats the purpose of it being a competition then, doesn’t it, sugar? You can’t pick a winner just because they’re a kid. I’m sure they knew that upon enterin’.” His hand runs comforting strokes up and down your middle back, entirely innocent, and yet your skin feels like fire beneath his hot palm.

“I think that one is the ugliest.”

Excellent timing, baby.

You sigh, “Gabriel—”

“Ah sugar, I gotta give it to the kid,” Jack drawls, eyes locked on the cake Gabe’s finger levelled at, “I’m thinkin’ it, too.”

“Well… obviously,” you agree quietly, discreetly looking around just in case its creator is somewhere lurking close by, “but we don’t say that out loud. That’s something we keep in our heads, okay?” Your gaze darts between them until they give a nod in agreement.

It’s quiet for a moment longer, Jack’s hand never once straying from your back or ceasing its gentle strokes as you each silently judge each cake, until Gabe smacks his lips and shrugs.

“They definitely lose.”

“Gabriel.”

A little body squeezes itself between you and Gabe, and your hand automatically falls to rest on Lou’s head. She’s quiet, happily making her way through a gingerbread cookie and swaying to the music being performed by the town's little local band when Jack peers curiously around you, smiling indulgently at the little girl.

“There you are, sweetheart. Was worried you didn’t make it tonight, thought I was gonna have to dance by myself.”

She grins shyly, hiding her face in the long length of your dress and forgetting about the half eaten treat in her hand. You don’t blame her, Jack definitely has that effect on people.

“Will you dance with me, little lady?”

Lou peeks up at Jack from under her lashes. It takes only a minute until she gives a small nod before pressing the cookie into your hold and reaching out to take his large hand in her much smaller one. He gently spins her as he leads her to the dance floor, and her giggles as her bright red tulle dress flows around her can be heard from over the crowds.

You watch them go with a content smile, before moving your gaze to Gabe.

“Would it be totally lame for you to be seen dancing with your mama?” You ask him softly, brushing a hand over his hair. All the kids from his school are here, and you know he’s starting to reach that age where others' opinions may sway his decisions on things. He still lets you hug him at school drop off and pick up though, so maybe you still have a bit of time.

He gives you a toothy grin, looping his arm through yours and pressing into your side. “I don’t care.”

—

It’s hours later when you finally get him selfishly to yourself, once Lou had promptly fallen asleep on your thick winter coat spread over some chairs in the corner and Gabe had been whisked away to a snowball fight with the other kids. Jack had approached after your yearly duty had been completed with thankfully no one falling into tears, and asked you to dance.

You don’t usually dance. Not properly, anyway. Swinging the kids around and twirling them under your arm while they giggle and jump along is one thing, but this? Tucked up close to someone and trying not to trample on their toes? You haven’t done this in a long time.

Jack doesn’t seem to mind, and with the feel of him pressed up against you? You don’t care if you seem a little awkward. It gives you both a chance to talk, and without interruptions. You ask more about his work, his life, which he seems to still not want to divulge in as much as you had hoped. He does tell you a little more about himself though, what he enjoys during his limited free time and that he’s starting to realise he doesn’t get away from work as much as he probably should.

“Maybe you should invest in a holiday cabin,” you tease, head tilting in a playful manner as you sway between the other locals crowding the hall. “I’ve heard they’re pretty popular to rent out when you don’t need it.”

“That’s not a bad idea, darlin’. Know any good locations?”

“Nowhere local, I’m afraid. You don’t fit in.”

He makes a low noise of understanding, pushing you softly away only for him to spin you under his arm and drag you right back up against him. You’re fucking giddy at the movement.

“Too handsome?”

“Too much of a grinch.”

“Hey now, that’s not fair. I ate a candy cane.”

“And I heard you singing along to a Christmas song, too.”

“Me? I would never,” he responds gruffly, but when his gaze slides to meet yours he grins. “It’s your fault, sugar. What’re you doin’ to me?”

“Working my Christmas magic.”

Christmas magic? Is that what you’re calling this? He feels like a damn school boy, twirling a pretty girl around at a winter dance. He quite likes it. Working at the office and back to back missions have filled his days sure, but there’s a slight tug of loneliness he hasn’t quite been able to hide with distractions for a long time. It feels damn nice to finally soothe that.

His eyes dance across your face, the hand splayed on your lower back tightening and bringing you in impossibly closer. “You’re workin’ some kind of magic, that's for damn sure.”

Holy shit. Heat immediately flares beneath your skin and spreads across your cheeks, biting sharply at your ears. What a smooth bastard. You fight the urge to shyly curl in on yourself, instead letting your grin widen in amusement as you trail your hand from his shoulder to the base of his neck.

“Is that right?” You ask softly, fingers gently twisting and carding through the small patch of hair you could reach from under his stetson. He likes that, you discover quickly, catching the way his eyes drop to your lips the second your nails scratch lightly over his skin. Noted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, cowboy.”

His chest heaves with a sigh, his lips never losing that charming upturn.

Shaking his head at your playful antics, he coaxes you to rest your head on his shoulder with a rumbled, “C’mere,” and it’s impossible not to melt into a fucking puddle right then and there. Thank god he’s got a good hold on you. He thinks you’re working magic? Then what the hell is this?

“You can’t do that. It’s not fair.”

“Do what?” His drawl rumbles into your body from the close proximity and settles thickly in the pit of your stomach. You feel the slightest brush of lips over the shell of your ear and fight the urge to shiver.

“That. This.”

You’re so incredibly aware of him, of every move and touch. It’s overwhelming, maddening, and you want so much more. He absolutely knows what he’s doing, feels the way you’re practically jelly in his hold. His lips press into the side of your head before his breath ghosts your ear again, and this time you can’t fight the tremble when he speaks lowly.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, sugar.”

Air. You fucking need air.

Jack must feel the same, or at least know what you need, because as soon as you pull away to meet his eyes, he’s giving you one of those heart achingly handsome smiles and gently leading you through the people towards the doors. The night air nips at your uncovered skin, cooling the heated feel of it and thankfully bringing some clarity to your mind.

Any more of that low honey drawl in your ear and mouth watering aftershave sinking into your nostrils and you would’ve absolutely made a fool out of yourself in front of your friends and neighbours. The last thing you need is to be the topic of town gossip for mounting a tourist right in the middle of the bloody dancefloor.

The few steps are thankfully clear of people when you tread just outside of the hall doors, with the late hour bringing most of the remaining people inside as the temperature drops. The food trucks and stalls had been mostly dismantled and packed away, those remaining still working away before the snow comes in and otherwise ignoring you and Jack lingering on the steps.

You feel the slight tingle of nerves all of a sudden, which is ridiculous considering the amount of time you’ve spent with him recently. Maybe it’s because this is your first time properly alone, without the kids running around and without having to say goodbye. You have time to just be, to enjoy his company and not have to worry about interruptions.

“Forgive me for sayin’ so, sugar,” Jack murmurs, halting your train of thought and bringing your attention fully to him, “but I can’t help but notice—that looks an awful lot like mistletoe up there.”

You fight the immediate tug pulling at the edges of your lips and glance up to where he points, spying the familiar cream bulbs amongst a sprig of fresh green leaves wrapped neatly in a small red bow.

“I believe you’re right, cowboy.”

“Now hear me out… I know I ain’t big on this whole festive season thing, but I figure it’d be mighty rude of me to break a well loved tradition.”

“I agree,” you breathe in reply, eyes falling to where his lips morph into an indulgent smile before snapping back up to meet his warm brown eyes. They’re soft, radiating with such a sweet tenderness that you feel it deep in your chest.

A warm hand cups the side of your throat softly, his thumb brushing your jaw delicately and it’s ever so easy to lean into the touch and relish in the comfort it provides. Your breath seems to hold as he moves in, stepping closer until you feel the brush of his jacket against your torso through the thin material of your dress. He holds for a moment, seemingly content to let his gaze roll along your features before he gives another little smile.

“Would you mind, darlin’?”

Returning his smile is automatic—it simply can’t be helped.

“Not at all, Jack.”

The tickle of his moustache and tender press of his soft lips is nothing short of perfection. You don’t feel the bite of the cold, you don’t hear the music and the laughter and the constant roll of chatter from the hall. It’s just him. Just Jack. It’s all Jack.

He pulls away far too soon, and you merely make a low noise of denial before curling your fingers into his shirt and pulling him gently back for more. He indulges you with a throaty chuckle, lips returning to yours with a little more pressure, a little more wanting. This time his tongue ever so slightly comes to trace your lips, and they part immediately, the kiss deepening until you feel the effects of it right down to your toes.

If you thought you were in trouble before, you don’t stand a chance now. The faint traces of peppermint still linger on his tongue and you chase the taste eagerly, stomach in knots when an arm curls around your body to bring you flush against his. Though you’re lost in the feel and taste of him, Jack remains aware of the goings on around you both and inwardly curses the sound of people nearing the door inside of the hall.

Words are mumbled against your lips.

“Darlin’, is there somewhere we can go a little more private?”

He’s not quite finished with you yet, and he’ll be damned if anyone’s cutting this short. Your boy included. He’s a great kid and all, but not the best with his damn timing. You don’t even realise your hands have wandered, finding a home on his hips and fisting desperately at his shirt.

Private? There’s nowhere private in this town, especially here. The hall is practically the centre of it. There’s out the back, you suppose, where the dumpsters are. It’ll have to do, because you need more of those lips preferably as soon as fucking possible.

You snatch his hand and start leading the way, the icy air nipping at your arms.

“Is there nowhere inside? You’ll catch your death out here,” Jack speaks behind you with a tinge of concern as you lead him down the steps and around the building.

“Guess you’ll have to keep me warm, then.”

“I got no problems with that, sugar, believe me, but still—”

There’s rustling, his hand pulling softly out of yours and then the cover of something heavy and warm, smelling distinctly of that intoxicating cologne that has your mouth watering, over your shoulders. You shift in his jacket, smiling at the typical chivalry that seems to come so naturally from him.

Jack eyes your surroundings when you eventually get around the building, not exactly pleased by the thought of not being able to give you the romantic environment you deserve, but he can’t see or hear anyone in close range and that’s damn good enough for him. He sweeps you into his arms, grinning at your little sharp cry of surprise and crowds you into the wall, his jacket saving your thinly covered shoulders from rubbing against the rough brick facade.

Settling back against the building with a smile of your own, you blink sweetly up at him and tilt your head in playful curiosity. “Is there something I can help you with, cowboy?”

“Yes, darlin’, as a matter of fact there is.”

His hot breath sweeps over your lips and they part in anticipation, your heart beating heavily in your chest as his nose brushes along your own. He drags it out, teasingly pulling away at the last second when you get only centimetres away from his lips and grinning when you make a low noise of impatience.

“Did you need somethin’, sugar?” He drawls deeply, warm brown eyes hooded as they flick between your eyes and lips.

“Oh, shut up,” you groan softly, tangling your fingers into the front of his shirt and tugging him forward. His mouth slants messily over yours, a sudden tangle of tongue and teeth, and you can’t help but moan softly at the overwhelming intensity of it.

A sound that has the power to be his entire fucking undoing, he finds as it ricochets through his ears and right to the very core of him.

Gone is the tender moment of before, cuddled under mistletoe and filled with the warmth of something sweet and unknown. He presses into you fully, firmly, his body pinning you to the wall and giving you the chance of feeling dip and curve of him. His hands grab at your waist, fingers digging roughly into your skin and you curl into him even further, your own hands finding and clutching at his broad shoulders.

You’re left panting against the side of the building when you eventually part, the sound of shouts and laughter off in the distance cutting through the dizzying haze that had fallen over your mind. Jack’s no better, clearly struggling to regulate his own breathing as he braces himself against the wall with his palms, effectively caging you in.

One shared glance and you both dissolve into quiet laughter, either the kiss or the cold bringing a charming pink tinge to Jack’s cheeks, which you trace softly with icy fingers.

“I think the snow’s about to come in, I should get the kids home. Are you still okay to give us a ride?”

“Of course, but I’ll uh… I’ll catch up with you, sugar. I’m gonna need a minute.”

—

Despite the obvious exhaustion hanging in the kid’s limbs, he does a damn good job of fighting the call of sleep long enough to set up for the big visit. Cookies that absolutely had to be presented on a christmas tree dish, a glass of cold milk and nine individual carrots. When Jack asks if using the whole bag was necessary, Gabe levels him with an unimpressed glare.

“One carrot isn’t enough for nine reindeer.”

“That’s a fair point.”

“Will you still be here in the morning?”

Jack casts a glance towards the kitchen, where he can hear you washing the cups that were used for hot chocolate upon getting home. “Uh, probably not, kid.”

Gabe deflates with a quiet oh, his face falling into a little frown. He shifts on his feet, gaze moving from the twinkling Christmas tree to Jack before stepping closer and wrapping his arms around the man. Jack holds still, not exactly sure how to take the sudden sweet affection from the boy whose love language was calling him lame and taking his money.

“Well, Merry Christmas, Jack,” the boy mumbles into his chest, and Jack swallows the sudden feel of something building in the back of his throat as he returns the embrace.

“Merry Christmas, kid,” he rasps quietly, hand stroking through the hat flattened curls on the back of his head.

“Alright mister, time to hit the hay.”

Gabe releases his hold as you reenter the room and nods, giving Jack one last smile before making his way to the stairs. You follow behind him, stopping him on the third step and spinning him softly to face you.

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes mum,” he sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling and back.

Grinning, you fix his baggy pyjama top and plant a kiss on his cheek. “And what about your Christmas wish?”

“I don’t need to make it anymore,” he shrugs, and you recoil in surprise. “My wish has been the same for ages, and I think it’s coming true now.”

“Oh?” You frown in curiosity, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. He’s never told you what he wishes for, so the fact he thinks it’s suddenly coming true has you wondering what it could be. “Can I ask what it is?”

“Nope,” he grins, casting one final glance towards Jack before giving you a cuddle and starting back up the stairs. “Night mum.”

You watch him go with a look of interest, listening to the creak of his bedroom door as he closes it behind him. Did he somehow know he was getting a new iPad? Did he find it stashed away before you could wrap it? Damn, you thought you hid it so well.

“He’s a real good kid,” Jack says from where he lounges against the doorframe of the living room. “They both are.”

“I know,” you smile.

The conversation echoes the one you had when he first came over, and the memory isn’t lost on Jack either as he grins in return.

“I had a good time tonight, sugar. I suppose this festive season stuff isn’t too bad, after all. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

His grin widens briefly as he looks back to the tree, uncertainty beginning to stir in the pit of his stomach. It’s probably getting to that time of the night where he should leave you to it, no doubt you’d have a few things to organise before going to bed yourself, but he doesn’t want to just yet. Can’t seem to find the strength to grab his stetson and jacket and say goodbye.

He doesn’t want it to seem like he’s expecting anything to happen. The night could end with that kiss shared against the hall and he’d leave a damn happy man, but curiosity has him waiting, wondering what move you’d make next, if any. You don’t say anything for a few moments, comfortable with the silence you share as you each watch the other.

Louisa’s long gone and lost to dreams, the girl barely able to keep her eyes open for more than thirty seconds when Jack pried her from the car to bring her inside. Gabe’s ability to fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow should be scientifically studied, so you wouldn’t have to worry about him either.

You quietly start making your way up the stairs, pausing just half way up and glancing back at Jack over your shoulder. He’s watching, waiting. The shy little sultry smile you send him is all the invitation he needs.

Knowing he’s right there and following your footsteps has your heart going wild with every step you take closer to your bedroom. A hand presses to the small of your back when you eventually reach your door and push it open, Jack moving damn near silent as the grave as he steps in behind you and closes the door.

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” you admit, nerves finally getting the better of you when his eyes land on you.

“Don’t you worry about that, sugar,” he replies, stepping forward to cup your jaw and you turn into his hand, seeking the reassuring touch. “Now you’re sure about this?”

A silly question.

“More than anything.”

His mouth is on yours as soon as he hears your words, and your head swims from the sweet press of his lips. It’s soft, a moment to put your nerves at ease and work you gently into it, something you’re thankful for as the tension slowly leaks from your shoulders. You follow his lead, letting him kiss you into an absolute frenzy until you feel brave enough to move your hands to unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders.

It’s when you trail your hands softly over his ribs and stomach does he kiss you deeper and let his own hands wander, palms smoothing over your sides and back before finding the zipper of your dress. You hold your breath as he tugs at it, shivering at the warm fingers that run along your bare skin when it’s finally open.

You slip your arms out of the short sleeves and let the fabric puddle at your feet, your bra quickly following, and your body warms under the way he unashamedly rakes his eyes over you in the muted light of your bedroom.

“Lay down for me, darlin’. Let me take care of you.”

He watches as you sink into your mattress and wiggle yourself up the bed until your head rests comfortably on your pillows, that charming grin you love oh so much tugging at his lips when you give him another shy smile.

“You’re beautiful.”

He’s one to talk, standing at the foot of your bed shirtless and looking like that.

“And you’re too far away.”

Your thighs part as he climbs onto the bed after you, crawling between your spread legs and over your body, chasing the taste of your mouth before directing his attention to your jaw, and then your throat. His teeth nip at your skin, his tongue soothes the brief tinge of pain away, and you don’t know whether you’re trying to pull him closer or push him away with the more he works your body into an absolute fever.

Fingers trace the waistband of your underwear and your heart starts to beat that much harder in your chest you think he must be able to feel it under his lips. You start to squirm beneath him when his fingers slip beneath the fabric and run softly over your core, brushing over the slick build of arousal and tracing your clit.

“Fuck—”

“Easy,” he murmurs soothingly against your skin, and you swear you hear a smile in his tone.

A thick finger slides into you, probing and curling against your hot walls before a second joins, and the stretch burns in the best of ways. He works you open slowly, more than content to go at his own leisurely pace and indulge in every twitch of slick muscle and quiet moan he can pull from your lips as he kisses his way along your body.

By the time his mouth reaches your stomach, you’re an absolute mess.

He pulls his fingers from your pussy to rid you of your underwear and you whine at the sudden loss of them filling you, but anticipation builds deep in the pit of your stomach as he settles comfortably between your spread legs, arms hooking under your thighs until they rest over his shoulders.

“Are you trying to kill me, cowboy?” You breathe weakly, biting at your lower lip when you feel his warm breath blow over your pussy.

He chuckles softly, “Sorry, sugar.”

The feel of his tongue making a path between your entrance and clit feels like anything but an apology. Your hand flies to his hair, fingers tangling tightly in it as he applies pressure to your clit, lips sucking at it softly and tongue rubbing slow, firm circles until you could almost go mad from the steady lull of it.

He likes to take his time.

There’s no rush with Jack, no quick foreplay so he can turn around and ask for his turn and get right to what he wants. He seems to enjoy working you up as much as you enjoy being victim to it. He waits until you’re breathless to change course, to alternate between building up your climax with firm laps of tongue and then letting it die down to taste you deeper, open mouth flush to your pussy as his tongue tastes you right from the source, and then right back up to start all over again.

Again and again.

“Jack, please—”

You feel a touch of teeth against your clit as he grins and you think then and there that he really is out to kill you. Slowly, and very fucking nicely.

“You can handle a little more, sugar.”

“No, no I really can’t. Please, please do something—”

He groans softly against you, and the vibrations against your clit have your fingers tightening in his hair. He does like that. You tug at it some more, breathing another few pleas for good measure and finally—finally—you get what you want. He breaks free of his routine, tongue merciless as it strokes and rubs into your clit.

There’s no room to wiggle or squirm free of his hold. His arms lock around your thighs, giving you no room for reprieve as he chases your climax and you can only endure, barely remembering to keep your noises to a minimum as he drags you up and over the edge and then some.

You’re trembling in his hold when he finally breaks free of you, sweat slicking your brow and clit throbbing from the overstimulation. That damn smile is back on his face when he eventually crawls back over you, placing a wet messy kiss to the corner of your lips when you can only manage a half hearted glare his way.

“How’re you holdin’ up?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s the second time you’ve told me to shut up tonight.”

“Yeah, well… you deserve it.”

He chuckles quietly, resting his body weight against yours and you whine at the rough press of denim to your sensitive flesh. Your eyes flutter closed when his lips close over yours, his moustache wet and slick with your arousal. It’s hard to feel self conscious about any of it when he’s kissing you like this—tenderly, hungrily.

“Jeans,” you murmur into his mouth, hands tugging impatiently at his belt until he kneels and undoes the thick leather band and begins to slip out of his pants.

He’s back over you within minutes and you relish the feel of hot skin against yours, the heavy feel of his hard cock resting against your core. Your pussy clenches as he gives a small thrust against you.

“Do you have anything?”

“I don’t exactly get a lot of action, cowboy. Do you?”

“I wasn’t really expecting to sleep with the town's prettiest baker, sugar.” He grins, eyes warm as they dance across your face. He kisses you again, soft and reassuring. “It’s alright, we don’t have to—”

“No. No, no—please. I’m clean, and I’ve got the rod. Are you—do you—”

“Clean,” he rasps, and with your final nod of encouragement his hips shift until he’s lining himself up and sliding into you. He’s thick, the stretch of him almost too much even with his earlier attentions to get you ready. He stops halfway before pulling back out, only to sink deeper in on the next thrust.

He keeps the pace slow and steady, letting you adjust to the feel of him while kissing you senseless. Your hands are unable to stay in one place too long, going from curling around his neck to keep his mouth on yours, to his shoulders, to his back and hips. You start to rock up to meet his thrusts, coaxing him deeper and harder until he drives into you hard enough to rock the bed and knock the headboard against the wall.

You both freeze at the sudden sound, and he breaks away from your mouth to eye the headboard with a frown. This won’t work, not with the way he wants to have you, the way you obviously want him to have you. And how could he disappoint you? No, this won’t do.

“It’s okay,” you breathe softly with a smile, “we’ll just have to be careful.”

“‘scuse me, sugar,” he mutters after a moment of thought, tugging a pillow free from under your shoulder and leaning up over you to shove it harshly between the headboard and the wall. He gives an experimental heavy thrust of his hips once he deems it in position and your hands scramble for purchase, coming to tightly clutch at his waist.

When the headboard doesn’t knock against the wall again, he gives you a sly look of victory and grins.

“There we go. Now where was I?”

“Doing that again.”

“Of course, how could I forget?” He teases playfully, curling back over you to swallow your broken moans as he resumes the pace he had been working into before.

You clench, tighten and flutter around him as he fucks into you, mouth still so sweet and soft against your own it’s hard to keep up with the contrast of it all.

He kisses you until he physically can’t anymore, breaking away to hide his face into your throat as the slick feel of your pussy builds that tightening growing in the pit of his stomach. He pulls you closer, tangles his fingers with your own, finds every possible way to be even closer still. He wants to drown in you, feel and taste you and be surrounded by nothing but you.

It’s your final barely coherent utter of his name that sends him hurtling off the edge, a long drawn out fuck muffled into the skin of your throat as he feels himself fill you. He doesn’t move from covering you until he’s long gone soft, barely able to bring himself to pull out of you and collapse softly beside you.

His heart hammers in his chest, something else swimming beside the post-climax bliss and he’s not quite sure what to make of it, what to think. This is more than a simple fleeting attraction.

He likes you.

He really fucking likes you. Great sex out of the equation, he likes your company. He likes that you can laugh at and with him. He likes your home and how comfortable he is in it. He likes your kids.

Shit.

Now what?

“You doing okay over there, cowboy?” You ask gently, head rolling to the side to watch him. He’s thinking long and hard about something, and you hope to god it wasn’t something like regret.

“I don’t think I can leave this behind, sugar,” he mutters, eyes locked on the ceiling as he works his way through his thoughts and swallows the brief shake of nerves. “I thought I’d be runnin’ out of town by the time my vacation was up, but this… you and the kids, I don’t think I can leave it so easily.”

He leaves his confession to sink in for a moment, tongue sweeping along his lips as his heart starts to roar in his ears. He can’t look at you, doesn’t want to see the potential rejection build in your eyes before it passes through your lips, so he keeps his eyes away.

“I know I said I don’t have the option of datin’ because of my work, but… would you let me try?”

It’s a long shot. You’ve never had this conversation, never broached potentially taking this further than just a little fleeting moment in your lives. There’s a chance he’s just gone and ruined whatever casual thing you’d both crafted, but it was worth a shot, right?

Maybe he should’ve just kept this to himself and thought more on it back at the cabin.

“Long distance is hard, but we can take it slow,” you decide quietly, smiling softly when his eyes dart to you. “I don’t think I can just let you run out of town and never see you again, cowboy.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Thank Christ. He heaves a sigh of relief and rolls onto his side, coaxing you into his arms and brushing a few fingers gently across your cheek. You turn into the heat of his body, winding an arm around him and letting your fingers dance random patterns up and down his back.

“Would you like to stay for Christmas?” You ask against his chest, nuzzling into his hot skin.

“It’s a special time for the kids, I don’t wanna intrude—”

“You wouldn’t be. You’re invited. They’d love to have you here, if you want to be. Do you think you’ll be able to survive a proper Christmas with us?”

He grins, “I’d love nothin’ more, sugar.”

“So it’s settled. Come on, you grinch. I’ll show you how to play Santa.”

He watches you roll from the bed and tuck yourself into your dressing gown, and you only notice his frown when you’re tying the thin belt and sliding your slippers on.

“What's wrong?”

“The fact that you’re up and walkin’ so damn easily. I’ll take care of that, once we’ve taken care of this.”

—

The chair next to him is empty when he sits down, and Tequila throws a curious glance Champ’s way. He’d half expected Whiskey to be clawing his way back into the building first thing this morning. His desk had been untouched, the corridors empty of his presence. No one had seen or heard anything about him.

Worry begins to stir in his chest, wondering if they’ve maybe pushed him too hard and he’s gone and quit for another agency, but it quickly dissolves away when he realises Champ’s at ease and unbothered. Losing Jack would hit the older man quite hard, so to see him reclined in his office chair with a cigar in hand is a sign everything is well.

“Agent Whiskey’s extended his vacation,” Champ states, breaking the silence and answering the questions building on the young agent's tongue. “He’ll be back after New Years.”

Tequila settles back into his chair and grins. So good ol’ Scrooge ended up having a decent Christmas after all. Good for him.

“Finally enjoyin’ some peace and quiet, then.”

“He’s enjoyin’ somethin’, alright. He’s asked for the weekend of Valentine’s Day off, too.”

—end.

#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal x reader

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revolutionsingingintherainnn · 24 days ago

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Hi Kavi! I was hoping I could request prompts 24 an 81 with desi!reader and Oscar Piastri where like both of them are cricket fans and have like a playful rivalry?

Feel free to incorporate it as u want (IK it's a bit of a weird request) .

Take ur time and i hope u have a great day:)))

Pub Rivalry ☽｡⋆

Prompts: 24. “I could pick you out from a room full of thousands of people.” + 81. subtle protection

₊˚ෆ op x desi!reader ᯓ★

₊˚ෆ fluff ᯓ★

masterlist ☾☼

The pub was buzzing with energy, full of excited chatter and clinking glasses. A bunch of cricket fans had all gathered to watch the super-hyped match between India and Australia. You and Oscar had managed to score a table near the front, the best seats in the house—well, for those who actually cared about cricket.

Oscar was already in his Australian jersey, scanning the crowd as he spoke with a half-smirk on his face. "I can't believe we're doing this," he said, his tone amused, though his eyes remained glued to the screen. "You're gonna lose today, I just know it."

You laughed. "Oh, please. India's got this in the bag. You guys are just pretending to be competitive.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Pretending? You do know that Australia has one of the world's best cricket teams, don't you?"

You leaned in, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Well, someone has to support the underdogs."

Oscar laughed softly, clearly not fazed by your banter. "You're lucky I love you. Or else I'd be taking this way too seriously."

"Oh, I know. I could pick you out from a room full of thousands of people because you'd be the one sulking when India wins."

Oscar shot you a look. "You know that doesn't work on me anymore."

The match started, and the pub fell into a hushed silence as everyone focused on the screen. You and Oscar sat side by side, as was your wont, exchanging light jabs between sips of beer.

Australia's first over was quick and aggressive, and Oscar couldn't help but beam every time one of the Australian players made a good play. You, on the other hand, were practically bouncing in your seat every time India made a run. It was a sight to behold—your intense concentration and exaggerated cheers for every boundary.

This is it! This is the over!" you yelled, practically standing on your seat when an Indian player took a powerful swing. Oscar rolled his eyes, but there was a fondness in his smile as he glanced at you.

"You're impossible," he muttered, chuckling to himself.

And finally, after a few tense overs, you excused yourself to the bathroom. "Be right back! Don't get too cocky while I'm gone," you warned Oscar.

Oscar just waved you off, grinning. "Of course, of course. Hurry along; you don't want to be missed during the inevitable collapse of your own side!"

You flipped him off behind your back, and smiled when you heard his laughter.

The moment you vanished from view, Oscar turned back to the game, completely focused on the match. However, after a few minutes, he began to notice something: the crowd seemed different. People were shifting around, voices getting louder, but no sign of you. He looked around. No sign of your bright, beaming smile, no sign of your dramatic, loud cheers.

His eyes narrowed.

You had been away for merely a few minutes, yet Oscar didn't like that. There was a mild knot in his stomach as he pushed his way through the crowd, his eyes scanning to find you.

Meanwhile, you'd become sidetracked by a scene of some Australians celebrating the wicket of an Australian when you didn't even notice it until you'd meandered over there joining in on the celebration. You were pushing through the crowd when your foot caught onto something-a stray chair leg-and suddenly, everything was tipping to one side.

"Oh, no—" you mumbled to yourself as you went tumbling forward, your arms flailing wildly as your drink went flying out of your hand.

Before you could hit the ground, you felt a pair of strong arms catch you, pulling you back up with a swiftness that made you blink in surprise.

"Careful there," Oscar's voice was low, full of both amusement and concern as he steadied you, his hands on your shoulders.

You looked up at him, your heart racing a little from the sudden stumble. "I—uh—I might've gotten distracted, just a little," you stammered, your face flushing in embarrassment. "And now my drink is definitely gone."

Oscar let out a small laugh, a playful glint in his eyes. "I see. Distracted by the crowd, were you?

You groaned, smoothing your clothes. "Totally. I was just trying to enjoy the match, and then—well, here we are."

Oscar shook his head fondly, his expression softening. "Well, I could have told you that the pub floor isn't a good place to practice your cricket swings." He gave you a little nudge, making sure you were steady on your feet.

"Hey!" you shot him a playful glare. "I didn't need you to be my personal bodyguard, okay? I'm perfectly capable of not falling flat on my face."

Oscar's smile softened. His voice dropped a little lower, filled with an affectionate warmth. "I'm just looking out for you," he said, his hand brushing your cheek as if reassuring you that he wasn't letting you out of his sight. "You're clumsy, but I've got you, always."

It made your heart skip a beat to listen to him speak, always making you feel safe even when you were being the clumsy self that you mostly were.

"Well, I wasn't planning on a somersault. But thanks for catching me," you said, a little softer now.

"No problem," Oscar said, and his grin was back on his face. "Just keeping my beautiful girlfriend from public humiliation." His words were laced with that teasing tone, but behind it was something protective. It warmed your heart.

You rolled your eyes, but secretly you were grateful. "I swear, you're the only person who's actually prepared for my clumsiness."

"Well, it's not a bad thing," he said with a sly smile, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. "Keeps life interesting."

Before you could react, a deafening cheer went through the crowd—India hit a six, and you couldn't help but spring to your feet, forgetting all about the embarrassing fall you had made some minutes ago. Oscar retreated, but his hand reached up to the small of your back, urging you along as you leapt around with excitement, not letting you fall again. It was such a simple, protective gesture, but it made your heart flutter.

The match was nearing its end, and the banter between you two was endless. Even if you were supporting different teams, there was something playful about the competition that just made everything a little funnier.

"Well, at least you're not completely useless when it comes to cricket," Oscar teased, as you cheered another Indian run in. "But I still don't think they are going to win. Australia's just better.

You shot him a teasing grin, tapping your fingers on the table. "We'll see, Piastri. We'll see. Just remember, even if India loses, I'll still be able to claim victory in this pub rivalry."

Oscar smiled, his eyes softening as he watched you, the warmth between you two undeniable. "You really think that's how this works, don't you?

"I know you think you can win everything, but sometimes, it's not about who wins the match," you said, grinning. "It's about who can outlast the other in teasing and banter."

Oscar gave you a sidelong glance, his tone more playful than ever, but his voice dropped lower, his gaze softening. "Well, lucky for you, I'm good at both. But when you trip again, I'll be right here—ready to protect you from another graceful tumble." His fingers intertwined with yours, reminding you that he was always there.

You grinned back at him, shaking your head. "Let's just hope my cricket team doesn't disappoint before I do."

Oscar's eyes softened, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry. You'll always be the winner to me—clumsy or not."

The match ended, with Australia securing the victory, but it didn't matter to you. The real prize was how comfortable and loved you felt next to Oscar.

As you both stood up to leave, the crowd still celebrating the match's conclusion, you turned to Oscar with a grin.

"Alright, Piastri. You won this round," you said with mock reluctance, knowing full well that your playful rivalry wasn't ending here.

Oscar pulled you into a quick, warm hug; his arms wrapped around you protectively. "Don't worry, I'll let you win next time. But only if you promise not to fall over in public again."

You smiled, wrapping your arms around him, your voice soft as you replied, "Only if you promise to be there to catch me.

Oscar’s smile softened, and he kissed the top of your head. “I’ll always be here. To catch you. and to win the next round of cricket, obviously.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “You’ve got a deal, Piastri.”

The playful banter and rivalry were still alive but, in this moment, it was clear—there was nothing you'd rather do than share these little, perfect moments with him. And as long as he was by your side, even if you tripped and fell a hundred more times, you'd always feel like a winner.

𓇼🐚☾☼🦪

i'm shit at cricket, whether its knowing about the sport or playing it, but let me know if y'all like this one! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04

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charles-eclair16 · 2 years ago

Text

~The 5 times Charles talked about you publicly~

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x actress!reader.

Warning- it's my first time ever writing so please be kind. English is not my first language so please ignore it if there are any mistakes.

1. The first time Charles was caught talking about you was pure accident and it wasn't even him who brought you up. It was an overly competitive Carlos who couldn't keep his mouth shut. It was during a C² challenge of who knows your teammate better and it was all going pretty much in Charles favour because the questions were too easy according to him. So when the score was 6 to 4 he was feeling pretty confident about winning but what he didn't expect was the next question to throw him off.

"Who's your current crush?" Was honestly not a difficult question to answer and Charles knew he would nail it. He totally knew who Carlos was crushing on.

"It's Y/N! He watches her interviews and giggles because she's so beautif-oww mate stop hitting me!“ Charles knew he had to make his teammate stop talking before he spilled anything more.

"Is it true?" Now this was a question Charles didn't know how to answer, should he own up that he was hopelessly crushing on her and that it was true that he watched all her interviews. But then again who could blame him she was so beautiful and he honestly loved the way she spoke, something about the way she spoke made Charles want to listen to her for hours.

"Yeah it's true. I really like her as an actress and she's very pretty but I don't giggle watching her!" He thought that was a decent answer.

"He does! He does it! He even watches fan edits of h-" Carlos was cut off by a wildly flinging hand of Charles.

" I do not!" was what Charles could come up with as he tried to stop Carlos. The next day he woke up with thousands of mentions of fans telling him that they understood...he didn't knew if he should feel embarrassed or laugh at some of the memes. He even liked a few of them.

2. The second time Charles mentioned you it was after you had soft launched each other for two months without the fans knowledge. It was nice to share secret moments with each other and bask in the privacy of home dates. It had been 7 months of dating and Charles was on the moon. His car was great, he was leading the championship with 10 points and he had a wonderful women supporting him. The only thing which bothered him was him not being able to shout his love and show you off to the world. So a mutual decision was taken between you two to not hide anymore but what you didn't expected was Charles to come running towards you as he got out of the car after coming p2 in the Silverstone Grand prix. You weren't even able to utter a word before he was kissing you. It wasn't a peck it was Charles expressing his love and gratitude for your unwavering support.

" How does winning feels now? Much sweeter than before?" Was the teasing question he got as he went to the post race interviews. He wasn't surprised. He knew he was going to get questions after a public kiss.

"Yeah, it feels great winning here with Carlos coming p1. It's a great weekend for our team" he laughed as he answered the question.

" So I'm sure you have plans to celebrate tonight. Any special plans?" He knew what the interviewer wanted to hear so he gave it to him with a smile so big he knew his dimples were all out.

" Yeah there's a plan to celebrate tonight definitely, the teams been throwing different ideas but honestly I would just prefer to spend my time with my girlfriend and have a quiet night. She came directly from her shooting so I'm sure she would want to stay in. And we can party with the team next time!"

It was safe to say that they both were trending worldwide.

3. At first Charles didn't know why he was trending and before he could check it he was asked to hurry up and get in the car. It was the worst race of the season for him. He was leading the race with pole position in France but he lost traction in his rear tyres and crashed into turn 11 which caused him the race. He was frustrated and tired. He just wanted to go back and not think about the horrible way he got out of the race. He wanted to cuddle you and forget about the day so when he was told to to attend a group media pen he was annoyed. When the question came he was speechless at first his brain shutting down from the ridiculous question.

" It's a very bad time for you Charles with the dnf and your recent breakup so how do you seperate these things from your work? Did your breakup caused you maybe to lose?" He wasn't aware of his break up.

"My what?!" Charles was shocked he didn't knew he was broken up because he was not planning to break up anywhere in the future.

"You didn't tell me you broke up?!" Perrie was genuinely confused now. If it was true wouldn't Kika tell him that? He knew the girls were close and he was sure that Charles would tell him that, wouldn't he?

"What did you do?" It was Lewis who glared at Charles and he finally got his wits to answer.

"No! We are very much together and happy! Who told you that we broke up?! Is that why I was trending Today?"

"Yes there was news that you broke up with your girlfriend and that you were heartbroken." The interviewer nervously let out a chuckle which caused the drivers to laugh

"Oh my god! No! We are together and I plan to be together for a long time so there's no need to worry about that ...I don't think I would survive without her pasta to be honest and her too." He reassured.

When he finally got the chance to check his notifications later in the night he could only laugh as he looked at the memes and the threats he got for fumbling a baddie like Y/N. He showed her some too as she layed on his chest on their bed.

4. The fourth time Charles gets asked is the first time he felt nervous talking about you ever in the entire 5 year relationship. It was because he knew he was absolute shit at lying. So when all the fellow drivers continue to tease Daniel for throwing the wedding party of the year. He remains quite and laughs at appropriate times.

" Charles you're quite there! So now that your friends are settling down with Daniel and Max getting married is it safe to assume that you're next?" Oh shit! He was sweating. He didn't know how to answer that without revealing that he had already picked a ring and was going to propose very soon. He had even taken her father's approval last month on their family trip together.

"Yes mate when are you getting married?"

"He's definitely getting married next!"

"With how whipped he is for her how do have any doubts about that!“ Charles tried to tune out the teasing remarks of his friends to formulate words to answer.

" Uh yeah, I would very much like to but we are focusing on the present at the moment but there's no doubt that I plan to marry her because honestly I can't imagine anyone else by my side when I think of my future. I want to start a family with her and get old with her. She completes me in the true sense and is my piller of strength. I don't think I have ever felt this much love for anyon-"

"And this is why we don't question Charles because then he doesn't stop!" Charles laughed at that as if Max was any better when talking about his wife.

"So yeah marriage is definitely on the cards on the future " he concluded.

And after 2 months he knew why he was trending and he couldn't be more happier. He now laughed at the mentions and yes he knew how to fight for his fiance.

5. The fifth time Charles was asked about you he was smiling ear to ear and anyone who looked at him can see that he was glowing.Others would say it was because he was starting the new season as a world champion but he knew it was because of Y/N and what she had told him the night before and later to their closed ones. So he felt quite happy answering questions.

"How are you feeling for the new season? Excited? Nervous?" the interviewer couldn't stop himself from smiling too. Charles happiness was contagious.

"It feels good to be back to the racing. The car feels good and after last year we are quite excited for this season too. We are looking forward to the races and with new tracks added to the calendar the excitement levels have increased. Yeah there's nervousness too-ah only little bit but that's totally normal...But I am quite confident! Also now I have to be a little careful because now that we are going to have new addition to the family I can't risk it! I have to-"

"New addition?" He stopped talking eyes widened and looked at the camera.

"What?" He was fucked, so fucked. She was going to kill him. He knew.

"You told new addition? Is it true? Are you going to be a father? Congratulations!" He could only nod and accept the hug he was receiving. They were supposed to announce it with a cute insta post and he had ruined it. He was the one to suggest it, he had even thought about the caption.

"Tell us more! Is she going to come to the races now? I'm sure everyone would like that?!" The interview continued

"Oh yes! Yes she wants to come to the races but I think we'll keep it a little private and only between family to enjoy this moment together. It's a new beginning with my person so I want to be there for her at every step. Its- it's definitely a blessing for us and I'm so grateful for her."

The next thing he knew he was trending along with y/n as parents and he couldn't ask for anything more.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 instagram au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 #formula 1 #fic rec #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 imagine #pierre gasly #max verstappen f1 #cl16 fanfic #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader

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