#it's not even like his camera was expensive

[goldfades]

HOTTEST COUPLE IN THE ROOM ───JB⁹

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.5k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested! -> "Joe x Dallas cowboy cheerleader reader"

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | reader is kinda perceived as bitchy, and not a cookie-cutter dcc. lots of a banter, leads to relationship.

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | my new fav thing EVER

The bass shakes the floor beneath your heels, the scent of top-shelf liquor and expensive cologne thick in the air. The postgame party is exactly what you expected—too many people, too much noise, and a lingering sense of competition that doesn’t quite fade even after the game’s final whistle. Cowboys and Bengals players mix like oil and water, good-natured jabs tossed between sips of whiskey, the occasional laugh laced with something sharper.

You don’t want to be here.

But when the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders make an appearance, it’s not optional. It’s PR. It’s “team camaraderie.” It’s smiling through gritted teeth while some dude in a suit with more money than personality tells you how impressive it is that you can do a perfect high kick in full glam.

You adjust the hem of your dress, shifting against the leather couch tucked in the VIP section. It’s not that you’re bad at playing the part. You just don’t fit the mold the way you’re supposed to. The other girls—prim, polished, always camera-ready—glide through the room like they were born for this. You, on the other hand, are already toeing the line of “too much.” Too opinionated, too unpredictable, too unwilling to be anything other than exactly who you are.

And yet, you’re still here. Because when you dance, they shut up about the rest.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” a voice drawls beside you, cutting through the music.

Your gaze shifts, locking onto the last person you expected to seek you out tonight. Joe Burrow.

His suit jacket is slung over his arm, the sleeves of his crisp white button-down rolled up just enough to give him that effortlessly put-together look. He’s got that half-smirk that’s made him a social media obsession, and yet there’s something else in his expression—curiosity, maybe. Amusement.

You raise a brow. “Didn’t think you knew who I was.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” His eyes flicker, something sharp and knowing in them. “Hard to miss the cheerleader who doesn’t play by the rules.”

You tilt your head, feigning offense. “I play by the rules.”

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Nah. You don’t. You just make it look like you do.”

And there it is. The first crack in the game, the unspoken understanding settling between you like a drawn line in the sand.

It should be nothing.

But somehow, it doesn’t feel like nothing.

You lean back against the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other toying with the rim of the drink you don’t actually want. The ice clinks softly as you swirl it, eyes flicking back to Joe, unimpressed but not entirely disinterested.

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Joe Burrow knows my reputation. I guess I can retire now.”

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, the kind that barely shakes his shoulders. “Just saying, you don’t blend in.”

You lift a brow. “Neither do you.”

His smirk deepens, just a little. “Difference is, I’m supposed to stand out.”

You roll your eyes. “God, you’re worse than I thought.”

Joe blinks, feigning offense. “Worse?”

“Yeah.” You tilt your head, taking him in. “I figured you’d at least let me get a word in before pulling the ‘I’m Joe Burrow’ card.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The smirk on his face falters just a fraction, like he’s recalculating his approach. He came over here thinking he’d charm you with minimal effort, just like he probably does with every other girl in this room. You can’t blame him. You’re used to guys like him—ones who assume that a few smooth lines and a good jawline will be enough to win you over. It’s exhausting, really.

Joe, to his credit, seems to pick up on it quickly. He shifts his stance, dropping the easy arrogance just a notch, watching you like he’s trying to figure out a new play mid-game.

“So, you don’t like football players,” he guesses.

“I never said that.”

“You don’t seem impressed.”

“I’m just not easily impressed.”

Joe clicks his tongue, shaking his head like he’s been personally challenged. “Tough crowd.”

You let out a short laugh, finally taking a sip of your drink. The warmth spreads through you, smoothing the edges of your already sharp tongue. “Look, I get it. You’re Joe Cool, media darling, golden boy, future Hall of Famer, blah, blah, blah. But none of that tells me who you actually are.”

Joe’s quiet for a beat, like he wasn’t expecting you to cut through the bullshit so quickly. Most people don’t.

He studies you. “You wanna know who I am?”

“I wanna know if you can hold a conversation that doesn’t involve your highlight reel.”

Joe grins, shaking his head like you’re more trouble than he bargained for—but not the kind he wants to walk away from.

“Alright,” he says, leaning in slightly. “Let’s make it fair. Since you’re so uninterested in my career, how about I ask about yours?”

You narrow your eyes. “Go for it.”

He tilts his head. “You always wanted to be a cheerleader?”

You pause for a fraction of a second. It’s not a bad question, but it’s not the usual small talk either. It’s got an edge to it, like he’s actually curious.

“No,” you admit. “I wanted to be an astronaut.”

Joe snorts. “Serious?”

“As a heart attack.” You smirk. “But apparently, NASA frowns upon people who talk back to their instructors.”

Joe laughs now, really laughs, and it does something to his face—makes it lighter, less perfectly put-together. It’s a nice look on him.

“So, you settled for the next most intense program?” he asks.

“Something like that.” You glance around the room, at the Cowboys players, the other cheerleaders, the high-profile guests all schmoozing and clinking glasses. “DCC is its own version of NASA. Just with more hairspray and stricter calorie counts.”

Joe hums, considering that. “And yet, you don’t seem the type to take orders.”

You shrug. “I don’t. But I’m really, really good at what I do.”

His gaze lingers for half a second too long. “Yeah,” he says, low and thoughtful. “I bet you are.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes your breath catch for just a second—not because you’re flustered, but because it feels like he actually sees you, past the sequins and forced smiles and PR obligations.

You tap your nails against your glass, breaking whatever was starting to settle between you. “Well, congrats,” you say, all light and teasing again. “You managed to hold a conversation without bringing up your own stats.”

Joe grins, lazy and triumphant. “And?”

You take a slow sip, watching him over the rim of your glass. “You’re not completely insufferable.”

Joe laughs, leaning back into the couch. “I’ll take it.”

The first date wasn’t supposed to happen.

At least, not in your mind.

But Joe had this way of slipping through the cracks of your carefully built walls, catching you off guard in a way that wasn’t annoying, but intriguing. So, when he had looked at you across that crowded party and said, “One drink. No football talk,” you had rolled your eyes, but ultimately, you had agreed.

One drink turned into three. A post-midnight drive through downtown. A completely ridiculous bet over who could name more obscure 90s songs (you won, obviously). And then, somehow, a second date.

And that was the real surprise.

Because by then, you figured you had him pegged. Star quarterback, smooth operator, probably used to women falling over themselves to impress him. But the Joe you saw away from the cameras, when it was just the two of you in a dimly lit hole-in-the-wall bar or sprawled out on his couch, eating takeout straight from the boxes, was different. He was easy in a way that felt familiar, like a song you hadn’t heard in years but still knew all the words to.

And he got you.

Most guys would tense up when you made some sarcastic comment, unsure if they should be amused or offended. Joe just smirked and shot one right back, quick and sharp like one of his passes. The banter was effortless, the chemistry undeniable, but it never felt forced.

It felt like you’d known him forever.

Which was dangerous.

Because you weren’t supposed to like him this much.

But a few months flew by before you could think too hard about it.

One minute, you were rolling your eyes at him in a Dallas bar. The next, you were sneaking glances at your phone in the middle of DCC rehearsals, trying not to smile at whatever nonsense he had just texted you.

Then came the flights.

You found yourself booking tickets to Cincinnati more often than you’d ever expected, trading in your Texas sunsets for the sharp chill of Ohio air, showing up in his city like you belonged there. And the crazy part? It never felt inconvenient. You had never been the type to rearrange your schedule for a guy, but with Joe, it was different. He made the effort too—catching flights to see you between games, showing up unannounced just to grab dinner, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It should’ve been overwhelming, but it wasn’t.

Because nothing about Joe was ever boring.

You’d expected the excitement in the beginning—the flirty back-and-forth, the teasing, the lingering looks that stretched longer than they should. But what you hadn’t expected was the way he made everything feel lighter. How he made you laugh when you were dead on your feet after an exhausting game day. How he somehow always knew when you needed to talk and when you just needed to sit in comfortable silence.

And yeah, the tension was there. Always.

You weren’t blind, and Joe sure as hell wasn’t either. There were moments—when his hand lingered on your lower back a second too long, when you caught him watching you with that unreadable expression, when he pulled you into a hug that felt like it meant something more.

But neither of you pushed it. Not yet.

For now, it was enough to just exist in whatever this was.

And, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t in any rush to define it.

The New York City skyline stretched high above the venue, lights twinkling like they were in on the secret that tonight was something different.

Joe didn’t hide you.

He hadn’t from the start, really, but there was a difference between showing up for each other in private and standing next to him now, his hand resting low on your back, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress like he wanted everyone to see exactly where you belonged.

And you?

You looked good enough to ruin a man’s career.

Your dress was the kind that turned heads—sleek, with just enough edge to remind people that you weren’t the typical quarterback’s girlfriend. Joe wasn’t intimidated by it, wasn’t the type to shrink when his girl demanded attention. No, if anything, he was thriving on it. Walking into the party with you on his arm, chin high, like he knew for a fact that you were the hottest couple in the room.

And you were.

It didn’t matter that the place was full of some of the most famous athletes in the league, that models and influencers and A-listers milled around with expensive drinks in hand—no one looked as good as the two of you together.

Joe left you only once, leaning down to murmur, “Gonna get us a drink, don’t go too far.”

You weren’t worried about being left alone. You’d been in these rooms before, could handle yourself just fine.

But apparently, someone didn’t get the memo.

The moment Joe was out of earshot, a presence settled beside you—too close, too confident.

“Damn, haven’t seen you in a minute.”

You already knew you were going to hate him before you even looked.

And sure enough, when you turned, there he was. A Cowboys player, one you’d interacted with just enough to know he was exactly the type you had no patience for. Cocky in a way that wasn’t charming, self-important in a way that made your skin itch.

You barely had time to open your mouth before he bulldozed on.

“So, what, you finally got tired of playing in the kiddie pool and upgraded?” He grinned, not even waiting for you to respond. “Figured it was only a matter of time. The whole ‘untouchable cheerleader’ thing was getting old.”

You smiled. Smirked, really. Because this? This was amusing.

He thought you were flustered. Thought you were scrambling for a way out.

Like you hadn’t been shutting down men like him since the first time you ever put on that DCC uniform.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, voice smooth as silk. “Joe’s an upgrade, alright.” You tilted your head, eyes dragging over him in an exaggerated once-over. “But considering what I was working with before, it really didn’t take much.”

His smile flickered, but he was too stubborn to let it go. “C’mon, you don’t have to pretend with me. I know you, remember? Back when you were just another Dallas girl trying to play hard to get?”

You actually laughed at that.

Not a fake, polite one. A real one. Because this was just sad.

“Wow,” you mused. “I’ve gotta give it to you, you commit to the bit. Most guys would’ve tapped out by now, but you? You’re still going. That’s dedication.”

His jaw tensed just slightly. “I’m just saying, no need to act all high and mighty. We both know you used to—”

“Used to what?”

Your voice was still sweet, still playful, but the underlying steel was there. And when you took a slow sip of your drink, watching him over the rim, it was clear you were letting him dig his own grave.

Before he could figure out how to claw his way out, a shadow loomed beside you.

Joe.

But not in the swooping, Oh no! My girl is in distress! way.

No, he was calm. Casual. Like he had all the time in the world. His presence alone was enough to shift the energy in the conversation, but you didn’t even acknowledge him yet. You wanted to see just how long it would take for the guy in front of you to realize he’d lost.

Turns out, not long.

Joe didn’t say anything, just leaned slightly against the bar, watching with mild interest. But the weight of his presence alone did something to your uninvited guest—made him shift uncomfortably, made his easy confidence crack just a little.

And that? That was satisfying.

“I was just catching up with your girl,” the Cowboy muttered, backtracking so fast you almost wanted to laugh.

Joe didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah?” He glanced at you, finally acknowledging you with a knowing smirk. “You having fun?”

You took another sip, grinning. “Oh, loads.”

The guy beside you tensed. “I was just—”

“Leaving?” you supplied helpfully.

His mouth opened. Closed. Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Joe chuckled, finally handing you the drink he had left to get. “You were having way too much fun with that.”

You shrugged, taking a sip. “Can you blame me?”

He shook his head, draping an arm lazily around your waist, pulling you in just slightly. “Guess not.”

And the night went on.

Just you and Joe. The hottest couple in the room.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Paint Me Red

Synopsis: You and Damian like horror movies for the same reason.

Pairing: Dark!Damian Wayne X Dark!AFAB!Gn!Reader

Tw: 18+ pwp; Kinda gore?; Cannibalism kink? Definitely hinted; Biting link; Blood kink; Fingering; Watching straight porn; Torture porn? It's all fake and no one’s suffering; Pain kink maybe; They are freaks and they are in love; Worshipping?; A hint of love-bombing? I repeat, they're freaks and they're in love, your honor; Mention of hipersexuality; Damian enjoys pain, gore and death, despite not killing anymore, Reader likes it too; Reader has long hair and is implied to be wearing a shirt or dress with straps and bare thighs; English isn't my first language.

Word count: 1,2k

Requested? No.

Extra notes: Inspired by the movie May and everyone who yaps about yandere!Damian being cannibal coded. I also love when someone writes Damian a little psycho, a little sadomasochist. And a Damian who worships his S/O is the best Damian!!! I recommend reading this while listening to Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge. Not sure I like my writing here tho, especially the title, there were many good options that also seemed bad options

General masterlist

Damian was odd, you knew it from the start. Everyone who interacts with him knows it from the start.

That didn't stop you from being flustered when he confessed his — in his actual words — all consuming, undying love. You never thought anyone would actually use those words while declaring their feelings for someone, but as always with him, Damian was different.

And maybe you were different too.

You came back from your weekly date with him to the apartament you recently started sharing, despite being so young and having been dating for only a month when he asked. Your friends called it love-bombing. You had never heard of a more romantic term.

He took you to the bedroom as soon as you crossed the threshold, excited about a surprise he planned for you, but there was nothing different there, until he pulled his laptop out, fiddled with something, connected to the overhead projector you bought once on a whim, after watching a tiktok, only to realize it wasn't any better than just watching on your television or laptop. At least it wasn't as expensive as one would think.

Regardless, you still used it sometimes, even if for the sake of being spontaneous — and making your money worth it —, and your boyfriend was clearly looking for that.

You sat on the edge of the bed, and in less than a minute, Damian was sitting beside you, while a weird video started playing.

— I found it online, beloved. — Damian explained. — A short film, made by a group of independent artists, I think. — You nodded along, this level of cinephilia was not exactly your thing, but you did enjoy watching movies and leaving reviews on Letterboxd, if it caught Damian's interest, then it must be something.

— Yeah, very Texas Chainsaw Massacre. — You commented, not because it actually looked to be a horror movie, but more because of the quality of the camera, the eery atmosphere, and the scenario being filmed in the middle of nowhere. It seemed like an actually calm movie, but you knew something was up, there was only a young couple having a cute picnic.

Damian looked at you with wide, almost innocent eyes, boyish excitement coupled with some glint you couldn't identify.

— Exactly!

You felt some satisfaction and pride. You were the one who presented him with the classic slasher movies — one of your favorite genres — and were surprised by his eager acceptance of them, since a lot of them didn't have much quality. But he seemed interested in the death scenes and gore. Maybe it was the remnants of his childhood on him, but you didn't have that past and still related to him, much to his delight. He also commented about how unreal a lot of it was, from experience, no doubt.

It was almost cute. And hot.

Damian's hand laid on your thigh, while his thumb started rolling circles on your bare skin.

You let out a gasp when the girl in the movie, out of nowhere, bit hard on her boyfriend’s finger while he fed her a piece of pie with his hands. An exaggerated amount of blood started sliding down her lips and his hand, but he didn't scream, he just stared at her while she had mischief and desire in her eyes.

Damian's hand squeezed your flesh.

— How did you find this on YouTube? I'm pretty sure they wouldn't allow it there. — You wondered out loud, squeezing your thighs when the guy used his bloody hand to push the strap of her sundress down, revealing her supple breast. He leaned forward and peppered kisses down her chest, while pushing the other strap down, revealing her torso even more, until he bit her ribs’s flesh just as hard, face partially covered by her left tit.

Now, they were both smeared in lots of blood, from his hand travelling her body and the new wound.

— I did not mention YouTube. — He answered, and you hummed, paying extreme attention to the movie, intrigued, and half surprised to be turned on. But it was shallow, a thin layer of lust that went unnoticed by you, mistaken by intrigue and excitement.

You only noticed how hot you were, when Damian did the same thing to you. He slowly and deliberately got closer, pushed your hair back from your shoulder, and left wet, slow pecks down your neck, while pushing your straps down. You just stared at the images while he did his thing.

You were interrupted when he bit down on your shoulder, hard, leaving teeth marks, but not enough to bleed. You couldn't help the yelp of pain that escaped you by surprise, but didn't feel like reprimanding him when he soothed the feeling by still kissing you, and buried his hand between your legs, invading your underwear.

You opened your legs to give him more space, while your lips also parted to let out a deep breath, not out of nervousness, but anticipation. When you paid attention to the movie again, the guy was lying between the girl’s legs, leaving a nasty bite on her inner thigh. The blood dripped down and ruined her white underwear, but her boyfriend just started eating her out with the fabric still on the way.

Meanwhile, Damian played with your wet clit with his thumb while he inserted two fingers into your moist hole with ease, catching you both off guard with how wet you were with basically nothing. He had a hunch you would like his surprise, but not that much.

In need to let out some pent-up desire, he bit your flesh once more, this time above your breast. A low whimper of pain forced its way out of your throat. You looked down and noticed Damian's full-on boner.

You reached and pressed your hand against him, making him hiss and finally stop lapping at your skin, to look at you with desire. You kept eye-contact while rubbing him through his pants.

Damian pressed his lips to yours in haste, eager to taste your tongue while pumping his fingers faster and deeper against your walls, focused on abusing your sweet spot. The kiss was more sensual than ever, a dance which consisted in sharing heavy breaths, exchanged pecks, sucking lips and caressing tongues. While you both were like rabbits a third of the time, you being hipersexual and him being in love with you, the newfound shared taboo kink definitely turned things up a notch. And you expressed it by interrupting the kiss with a hard bite on his bottom lip.

Damian hissed like a cat until you let his lip go. When he glared at you, anyone would think he was livid like you just kicked his dog, but you knew him better than anyone. In fact, you were the only one to ever see him in the vulnerable side that came with intimacy, the only one he would ever want and trust to either lay beside his naked body, or willingly allow to leave a mark on his scarred flesh. Taste his muscles. Drink his blood.

He used his free hand to touch his lip, and found blood there. You licked your own, bright crimson and wet.

When he looked at you again, you wondered if you had finally ruined him for anyone else forever, and he made sure to paint both your faces red with a kiss, while he made you cum on his fingers.

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[cyberteez]

pt.1 - pretty

pairing ⋆ seonghwa x afab!reader

genre ⋆ smut, angst

wc ⋆ 2.6k

summary ⋆ when money is tight and rent is short, you and your partner turn to posting adult content online.

warnings ⋆ reader has anxiety, money troubles, unprotected sex, slight oral fixation, top!seonghwa, bottom!reader, creampie, multiple orgasms

networks ⋆ @illusionnet @cromernet @pirateeznet

series masterlist

"Rent's short again."

A sigh.

"I can't use my credit card again."

Silence fills the kitchen as the pair face each other. Your gaze flickers between the bills present on your dimly lit computer screen and the man that sits across from you. His polished nails drag slowly through his scalp, face contorting as he thinks.

"Well… what are we going t-" you begin.

"I don't know, pretty," he interjects, pushing air between his teeth.

Seonghwa backs away from the counter, his steps heavy as he exits the room. Disappearing down the hallway, you hear the slam of a door. Your hands cradle your face, eyes welling with unshed tears as you shut the laptop lid. This isn't what you expected when you had agreed to move in with him. To no fault of either of you, your landlord decided to raise the rent midway through your lease, straining your finances to the max. Even working nearly fifty hours in a week wasn't enough to cover your expenses in the more affluent neighborhood you had settled into. Stress ate away at your very being, leaving you cold and anxious all the time.

Seonghwa reappeared in what felt like hours. You had curled up on the couch soon after he hid himself away, blankets bunched around your figure, exhausted sleep overtaking your mind with ease. He settled next to you on the cushion, hand coming to pet your hair till you stirred. A whimper left your mouth as you stretched your legs, shifting to lay against him.

"I'm sorry," he said lowly.

"S'fine," you mumble in response.

Seonghwa stays silent for a few minutes, continuously petting your hair, untangling knots and dragging his blunt nails against your scalp. When he does speak, it surprises you. "I think I know a way to get the money."

"How?"

"You know how we've taken videos of each other?"

Your mind blanks, thinking back to times where you recorded his silly reaction to dragon's breath, or times he's taken videos of the two of you riding amusement park attractions.

"Be more specific?" You query, still not picking up what he's hinting at.

"Like… like us. In the bedroom," he sheepishly remarks.

"Ah." Is all you can manage at first. Then, "you want us to post our sex life online? Like making porn?"

His face turns a delicate shade of red as you look up at him. A giggle worms its way from your mouth, Seonghwa joining in as soon as he realized you weren't upset.

"Yea, we can do that," you answer. "You act as if we haven't chatted about this before."

It was true. The pair of you had considered it in the past, but the fear of being found by friends, family, potential or current employers were enough to make you halt. Now, the notion of being homeless and in debt outweighed anything else.

"So we're gonna become amateur porn stars, huh."

It wasn't hard to get the right supplies. You basically had everything you needed anyway. Seonghwa proposed a first person point of view during the videos, to make it feel more intimate. You had no objections.

Dressed in the prettiest and shortest pink skirt you owned and a cute cream top, you sit patiently on the bed, waiting for your lover. Your hair falls cutely around your face, framing the lacey mask that serves as a basic disguise. While not the most concealing, it would still provide some cover as to not tip off anyone you knew. You decided to go without a bra, but opted for some sweet panties that hugged your hips nicely. When Seonghwa entered the room, you almost couldn't hold your laugh in. While his facecard was beautiful, the camera attached to him looked plain silly. He basically had a go-pro on, but you reminded yourself it was for the money, so you dealt with the awkwardness.

"Is that thing gonna get the right angle?" You asked, adjusting your pose so you sat on your hands.

"We're gonna find out, I guess. It feeds to the laptop, so lemme get it set up and we can adjust from there."

After a few minutes of finagling, you both agreed on the view from the camera. His long fingers ghosted over the keys, logging into the site you would be using.

He announces, while still facing away from you, "My thought is we can do a couple basic videos to start off with, then maybe we could move to live streaming?"

You nod your head, not realizing he wouldn't know your response. Seonghwa turns around to look at you and you nod your head once more. "My bad. Yea, that sounds good to me. Ready to get started?" He nods.

Nerves buzz through your limbs, settling in your fingers that remain securely under your thighs. His gait is relaxed as he steps to the edge of the bed where you sit. He gives you a silent look. One that asks if you're ready to go through with this. You blink up at him a few times before exhaling the breath you were holding and nodding once.

A click of the camera and a red light blinking once before becoming stagnant indicates that the scene has started. Your nerves settle almost instantly. A hand smooths over the skin of your cheek, cupping it softly. To say your reaction was instantaneous wouldn't be descriptive enough. You keen into his palm, allowing him to smooth the thoughts from your mind. His fingers glide down to pinch your chin between them. He pulls your gaze up to his, whispering, "Just look at me, pretty."

Heat pools in your lower abdomen at his words, staring directly into the camera as if it were his own eyes. As the grip on your chin recedes, his thumb drags at your lower lip. You eagerly open your mouth for him, allowing him to slip the thumb inside and flatten it against your tongue. A heavy whimper falls from your open mouth, allowing him to play with it how he pleases. Your fingers itch to touch him, but you know he'd stop his motions if you did. He leans in, getting a better view at the saliva pooling in your mouth before angling downward at your tits. His free hand smoothes over your chest, cupping the bottom of one before moving on to the next. A sigh escapes his lips as he leans back, seemingly lost in thought.

Seonghwa's hand tugs the button on his pants free, pulling the sides open enough to slip his member free from the confines. Even after being with him for years, you're always shocked at how thick and long he manages to be. Your eyes flicker from the camera to his length, waiting for permission.

The thumb that rests in your mouth leaves as his hand cards through your hair, grip becoming firm as he guides you to his length. The salty precum leaking from his tip covers your tastebuds as you take him in your mouth. You moan at the taste.

His breathing becomes heavier the more you take into your mouth. Whatever you can't fit into your mouth is cradled by your hands that slipped from underneath you. A tug at your scalp has you looking up at him, eyes wide and starting to tear.

"Did I say to stop looking at me?" He asks gruffly, eyes narrowing slightly.

Your response is to take him deeper in your mouth, a slightly bratty move and momentarily gagging yourself, but providing the exact reaction you wanted. A guttural sound resounds from his throat, head tipping back as you work yourself on his length. He doesn't stop you. Pulling back to where his tips just rests in your mouth, you lick the soft underside of his head before pushing yourself to your limit.

"Fuck, pretty, you take me so well," he muses.

Breathing through your nose, you continue to take him, sucking whenever you pull back and licking at his veins whenever you push in. Tears track down your cheeks, continuously pushing past your lids whenever he bumps the back of your throat. Whines and whimpers fall from your mouth, becoming loud every time his grip tightens in your hair. Your hands cradle his balls, kneading them between your palms, eliciting breathy moans from your lover. He fights to keep the camera angle on you, desperately trying to not lose himself to the shockwaves of pleasure you give him. It doesn't take long before he's pulling you off his cock completely, pushing your body backward on the bed and flipping up your skirt. His hands greedily pull at your thighs, teasing and tickling along the innermost parts, but avoiding where you need him the most.

"So cute, pretty. Did you get all dolled up for me?" He asks, getting a better view of the panties that are currently sticking to your lips. They're nearly see through at this point, dripping from the arousal that's pooled between your legs. "And you're so worked up, aren't you? Do you think you deserve to be touched?"

You nod furiously at his words, your lower lip starting to pout. A breezy chuckle leaves his lips before his hands are tugging down the soft material, discarding it somewhere behind him. Two of his fingers spread your lower lips, giving the camera a better view of your dripping cunt. You nearly forgot you were filming, so wrapped up in giving him pleasure and chasing your own. A whine erupts from your throat the moment Seonghwa circles his fingers around your puffy and untouched clit. He smiles softly before dipping them just inside your cunt, dragging them back up to circle around your clit once more. You can tell he's testing you when he does it a few more times, a huff nearly falling from your lips at his teasing. The impatience quickly dissipates as both fingers plunge into your heat, curling up slightly before pulling back. Your head falls back against your shoulders, obscuring your face from the camera. His motions stop. You lift your head quickly, looking back at him as he shakes his head lightly.

Seonghwa resumes his motions and each time he delves inside, his fingers loosen your walls to prepare for his length. He murmurs small encouragements all the while, praising you for how pliant you are, how pretty your pussy sounds for him. Your abdomen continues to knot further and further, the coil threatening to snap at any time. His free hand rests on your clit, rubbing small circles in order to throw you into your climax. With a cry you come undone, your cunt sucking his fingers in. He continues his motions until you squirm away from his touch, pleading with him to stop.

You can hear him shuffle around and his pants hit the floor before the bed dips and he straddles you. Hands push at your shirt, freeing your tits for the camera. Seonghwa kneads at them and tugs at your nipples, giving each a slight smack. His hands travel down your hips, grabbing at your thighs to wrap them around his waist.

"Is my princess ready to take my cock?"

"Please," you beg, looking pointedly into the camera.

"Since you asked so nicely, how could I refuse?" His length glides through your folds, tapping gently against your abused clit. The motion elicits more sounds from your mouth, increasing in volume as he pushes in with one move.

"Ngh, yes," you whine when you feel his hips meet yours. One of his hands splay over your stomach, holding you down as he starts to move.

"God, fuck," he starts, "you're so tight, pretty."

The drag of his cock against your walls is delicious, rubbing everywhere you need and filling you so nicely you couldn't think of anyone but him. His pace remains consistent, but he moves your legs in different positions until they both rest against his shoulders.

You cry out at this new angle, his cock hitting the spongy patch inside with abandon. His thumb finds your mouth again and you readily open for the appendage once more. You pose for the camera, batting your wide, innocent eyes and sucking on his thumb as his hips smack heavily against your thighs. You know he's close when his pace increases, but loses rhythm. The thumb in your mouth moves to circle your clit once more. Heat pools in your belly once more, another climax threatening to unleash.

"Come on, pretty, cum with me."

It's not but seconds later when you both fall apart with each other, your walls milking him for all he has. Seonghwa doesn't immediately stop recording. Instead, he pulls out and closes in on your cunt, spreading your lips and allowing globs of cum to seep from your stretched hole. When he pans back to your sweat sheened body, he clicks the camera off.

It's like a switch clicked as soon as the camera was off and discarded on the desk nearby.

"How are you doing, baby? Let me get a cloth. Or do you want to go straight to the bath?" A smile graces your lips in response. Just like the first time you spent the night together, he's always fretted over you after you have had sex. It was something you appreciated as past partners had never considered you. You sigh contently, slowly pushing yourself up.

"Let's go take a shower and then work on editing the footage, okay?"

"Of course," he responds, taking your hand and leading the way.

Lathering soap across both of your bodies, you talk about how the scene went, praising him for providing direction so easily. His hands shake, words coming out jumbled as he attempts to compliment you. He worries over your body, taking extra care when scrubbing your scalp, easing the tension from the grip he had in your hair. Seonghwa soon scatters kisses across your shoulders, murmurs of affection and adoration filling the steamy room.

Working on the video didn't take much time as you didn't want it to look heavily edited. You sat in his lap for most of it, his arms wrapped down your waist while you gave feedback on what you could both do better next time. Posting the video was the hard part. Well… emotionally at least. You both sat there for a while, pondering titles and wondering if you would actually go through with this. It would–hopefully–provide the needed income, but you would be putting that out there forever. Anxiety crept into your being as you worried if you looked good enough for something like this. Seonghwa soothed you while you worked through the heavy feelings, rubbing your back softly and pressing kisses around your face. Nothing could compare to you is what he told you, that you were beautiful and if the viewers couldn't see it they were blind.

Eventually, you calmed down enough to ask,  "what should we name it?"

It was a challenge. Trying to think of something that wasn't going to blend in with all the other content on the site but was also eye-catching enough to gain views.

"How about: Pretty? It's what I call you, and it's unique enough. As long as the tags fit then it should still be seen."

"I like it. Let's do it." Enthusiasm and warmth fills your chest as you both click on the mouse to post the finished product. You don't expect immediate views, nor do you receive them right after posting, but you hope it'll be enough to cover rent the next month.

© cyberteez 2025

[nuyhado3o]

Lost in the lights

Gdragon x fem!reader

Warnings: party, alcohol

Genre: nun serious but fluff at the end

Synopsis: Navigating life with G-Dragon during his "bad boy" phase means balancing between the world of flashing lights and the quiet moments only you two share. As the chaos of fame swirls around him, he always finds his way back to you—his anchor in a world that never stops spinning.

---

---

Dating G-Dragon meant living in two different worlds.

By day, Ji-Yong was quiet, thoughtful—sketching in his notebook with his glasses slipping down his nose, curled up in an oversized hoodie that made him look smaller than the superstar the world saw. He’d hum half-written lyrics while lying with his head in your lap, cigarette smoke curling in the air as he absentmindedly traced circles on your skin.

By night, he was G-Dragon. The life of the party. The untouchable icon.

And you? You were somewhere in between, balancing on the edge of his chaos.

“Stay close to me,” he murmured, fingers lacing through yours as you stepped into the club. It was always like this—cameras flashing, whispers trailing behind him, people pushing just to be near him. But no matter how loud the room got, he always kept you anchored at his side.

VIP tables, expensive champagne, bass shaking the floor beneath you. He moved through the crowd like he owned it, greeting high-profile friends with a lazy grin, his arm draped casually around your waist. But even as the night raged on, you could feel it—the way his grip tightened, the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Wanna get out of here?” you whispered, lips brushing against his ear.

He glanced at you, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. Then, without a word, he took your hand and led you through the chaos—past the flashing lights, past the people calling his name.

Minutes later, you were both in the backseat of his car, parked on an empty street with the city glowing in the distance. He leaned back, exhaling a slow breath as he ran a hand through his messy blonde hair.

“Too much?” you asked softly, watching him carefully.

He let out a quiet laugh, tilting his head toward you. “Too much.”

You reached for him, fingers brushing against his cheek, and just like that, the tension in his shoulders eased. He leaned into your touch, his lips ghosting over your palm before pressing a lingering kiss there.

“I don’t care about all that,” he admitted, voice low, tired. “The parties, the people… None of it feels real.”

You knew. You’d always known.

“You’re real,” he continued, gaze locking onto yours. “You’re the only thing that feels real.”

And in that moment—just the two of you, hidden away from the world—you knew that no matter how wild the nights got, no matter how untouchable G-Dragon seemed to everyone else… Ji-Yong would always come back to you.

A/n: shot n sweet, quick little post!

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Love me like you do

George Russell x fem!reader

Summary: The well known business boss George Russell is on his hunt to find himself a wife. After spotting you, he’s sure that you’re the one, but you’re a little challenge.

Warnings: 18+, smut, cursing words, enemies to lovers, love, fluff, pregnancy

Word count: 5k

A/N: I was working on this idea for the past two weeks, I had so much fun writing it. At first it was supposed to be mafia themed, but I gave up on that, giving it more business-powerful vibe. Enjoy it! :)

///

Sitting in your small apartment, you were watching the news on the TV. There he was, the man who ran the dirty business in the city, George Russell. He was no stranger to you, everybody was talking about him in the law firm you were working at as an associate.

“Russell… Again.” In between eating your pizza, you hummed in displease, you really hated the man. He looked always so sure of himself, his sparkling expensive cars and money everywhere he stepped his poisonous feet.

“The well-known boss of the city George Russell has started with his hunt for a wife.”

Camera turned to his direction, George looking into it with his intense gaze and wide smirk.

“I’m going to find you, baby girl.”

You stopped as you took in his gaze, it was like he was talking to you through the screen, and you chuckled at the naivety of your brain. You would never want a man like him…

///

Week after, you were having a lunch break at the restaurant in the city, you got yourself a fancy lunch from time to time. Eating in peace, you didn’t notice that you’re being watched.

George sat at his usual table, he was visiting this restaurant regularly. This time, he wasn't interested in reading newspapers, rather he looked around the space, and his eyes landed on you. Hell, he was mesmerised. The way you giggled at your phone, how your hair landed over your shoulders, even your fit figure...

Suddenly you got up, grabbing your things as you paid for your lunch and stormed out of the restaurant. George felt the urge to get up and ran to you, but he stopped himself, cursing under his breath. He was supposed to be composed and frightening, how come a simple woman can make him so soft?

///

"Sure, I can get it for you boss." you just rolled your eyes, walking to this expensive boutique, where your boss ordered his load of shirts.

While you were waiting for the order to be ready, you couldn't help yourself and you wandered through the beautiful dresses that just hung there, captivating your eyes. You always dreamed to dress like this, stylish, elegant and classy. Yes, you tried your best, but it was cheap, because your salary wasn't much.

"That would suit you." Manly voice was heard behind you and you just turned around, thinking it's just an associate of the store, but it was motherfucking George Russell.

Your brows furrowed, jaw tightened as you stepped aside from the dresses and him. You noticed that he was dressed like usual, his tailored suit with the buttoned shirt, three buttons from the top undone, his expensive silver watches nearly blinding the eye.

"Nobody asked for your opinion." you were bold, not really playing the innocent girl, who is scared of him. And that was something which was even more tempting for him.

“When is your birthday?” He asked, following you through the boutique, carefully, like a prey.

“I’m amazed that you don’t know that already.” You scoffed, not giving him a single look.

George chuckled, shaking his head.

“I want to buy you that dress you were looking at. Give it as a birthday present.”

“Keep dreaming, boy. I’m not interested.”

“But you should be.”

Rolling your eyes, you lifted your gaze from the shoes, you were interested in, to meet his mesmerising blue eyes.

“And why is that?”

George took a few steps towards you, closing the distance between you, your nostrils filled with his cologne.

“Because sooner or later, I’m gonna see you in white.”

He then smiled with a soft hum, his hand brushing over yours, his body moving by you, walking out of the boutique.

You stood there, frozen to the spot, releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding, stretching the hand he just brushed over, swallowing your excitement.

“We’ll see.”

///

You tried your best to avoid him, but it was really pointless when he could have information about anybody he pointed to. Week later you received the big box with a scandalously big ribbon on it, which was only to make you upset.

There was that damn dress you were eying in that boutique you met him together with a sticky note.

Dear miss,

This dress screams your name for you to wear it. I want to see you in it by Friday at 7 PM, at that restaurant you were having lunch last week.

Your future husband, G.Russell

Even though he didn’t know you, he knew his ways to make you angry and annoyed. You’ll show him with whom he’s playing.

On Friday, you wore that dress, hell, the way it was wrapped around your curves, making you look like some kind of goddess, it made you smile. But soon you got your upset expression back, remembering your mission for the evening. You dress to impress.

Arriving to the restaurant, you captured eyes of everybody there, even waitresses stopping in their tracks to lay their eyes on you, dropping a few glasses on the ground. With a soft huff you arrived at the table where George was already sat, smirking at the way your hips were swaying, walking in your heels. You gave him a look full of daggers, which made his smirk even wider.

“Thanks for the dress, I guess. But you can fuck off. I’m not gonna participate in this stupid game of yours.”

He let out a small chuckle, his eyes darting over your face, noticing that your outburst made your cheeks blush.

“It’s not a game. I already have a date set for our wedding.”

That made you even more furious. Taking a step closer to him, you poked your finger to his chest.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not gonna marry you. Find someone who actually wants it.”

He grabbed your hand firmly, moving it to his lips to brush his lips over your knuckles, the way it made your breath hitch and your heart nearly stop.

“Well. I thought that it’d be much harder to shut you up.”

“Go to hell, Russell.”

You snickered, snatching your hand from his grip and you stormed out of the restaurant.

George leaned back in his chair, thinking that he might be too much in his demands to you, so he needed to push back a little. Give you time and space. Show you that he values your opinion.

But only to that point to lure you into his setting.

///

George wanted to impress you with his actions. So he started to dig into your life, making his people gather everything about you.

So when he found out you’re an F1 fan, he started to show his interests by investing into technologies and to the Mercedes team, your favourite. It was a huge thing, when a wealthy man like Russell was doing that.

You were working as usual, after your last encounter, your boss were more aware of your presence and what work you were assigned to. Suddenly, your name was called, there was a box with flowers at your desk. Your jaw tightened, because immediately you knew.

“The secret admirer again?” Your colleague giggled next to you, while you let out an annoyed huff.

“Something like that..”

Tossing the flowers to the bin, you wanted to do the same with the box, but curiosity got the best of you. Unwrapping it, getting through the delicate pink paper, there were VIP tickets to the Formula One Grand Prix. But it wasn’t just an ordinary GP. It was for Monaco. Your dream. Brushing your fingertips over the plastic card with your name and photo on it, you felt torn. There was also a note, neatly written.

Dear miss,

I heard about the very special hobby of yours. Allow me to invite you to accompany me to the race in Monaco. I think that you’ll enjoy it. The box is filled with everything you’ll need for that weekend. There’s no need for you to do anything. I have it covered.

G.Russell

That bastard.

///

Watching the qualifying had you on the edge of your seat, your breath quickened, fast cars swishing around the VIP lounge. George was smiling widely, noticing the other sorts of people eying them, whispering, he was beyond himself every time he brushed his hand over your back and you didn’t scold him for it, because you were simply not paying attention.

His eyes darted to your face, taking in your focus. “You’ll be a supportive mom for our child, who’s, for sure, will be a driver.”

That got your attention abruptly, shooting him a pointed gaze. “You’re nuts.”

“Why? About our child being a successful formula one driver?” He snorted, toying with your words.

“No, about the idea of me having kids with you. Not gonna happen.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes with a huff, that fluttering tightness in your chest being brushed away.

George chuckled, he knew that you won’t give in easily. What you didn’t know was that he was a very patient man.

Spending a whole weekend with him was exhausting. Everybody expected you to act like a smiley sunshine, happy to be beside him, having a time of your life. But you enjoyed only the part of racing and that you got to meet your idols with the perks of VIP pass.

George was trying to provide you with everything he thought you’d need, drinks, food and sweets. Making sure you’re safe, beside him all the time, not getting you out of sight. Well, he respected your privacy every time you slammed the door of your hotel room in his face. You didn’t want to admit it, but he wasn’t so bad as you thought. The way he looked at you, took care of you, how he smiled at your witiful remarks.

After the race, you held that stupid smile on your face, happy with the result of it, really full of joy from the weekend. You were grateful.

George was walking beside you, his hand close, his fingers brushing over yours from time to time, trying his luck again. About fifth time, your fingers met and it resulted in him intertwining his with yours and to his surprise, you weren’t pushing him away with a comment of how disgusting he is. Actually you were still smiling, trying to avoid to look at him, because of the familiar warmth in your stomach you felt.

“It was a nice weekend, don’t you think?” Slicing through the silence between you, he held onto your hand like if it was his lifeline.

“Pretty much. Thank you.” Your voice went soft, he really didn’t expect it.

“No problem. I like to make you happy.”

“So, what about a dinner? I’m starving.”

Sitting in the hotel restaurant, you found your way to talk together. Sharing the deepest thoughts and secrets of yours, laughing at the stories from your childhood, somewhere in between all of this, you realised that you like this man. More than you should. Maybe his idea of marriage wasn’t as stupid as you thought and something deep within you was awakening. Desire.

George walked you to your hotel room like he did for the past two nights, but as your key card slid through the scanner, unlocking your room, you turned around to face him, fighting with the urge to kiss him. As if he knew by the look in your eyes, he grabbed your chin firmly, closing the distance between you, capturing your lips in sweet kiss he was waiting for so long. Letting out a soft moan into his mouth, you pulled him closer by his shirt, his hand pushing the door open, urging you to get inside.

Walking together as if you were waltzing around, you got to the king size bed falling onto the mattress, still kissing. George crawled on the top of you, his hands everywhere on your body, not getting enough of you. Finally he moved to your neck, sucking on the sensitive flesh, making you gasp and shake in need.

“George, don’t-“ you managed to breathe out and his head shot up abruptly, looking down at you.

“I can stop. If it’s too much, tell me and I’ll stop.”

“Don’t. Don’t stop. Please.”

And with that you spent the first night of many by having a wild sex.

///

Walking the aisle was meant to be easy, but it was hard, when your soon-to-be husband fucked your brains out the night before. Straps of your heels wrapped around your ankles held you straight, so nobody could tell that you’re barely holding yourself, while wearing that beautiful wedding dress you managed to choose on the first try.

Oh, but George knew. Smirking at you the whole time you were nearing to him, he was so proud of himself, for making you weak, that confidence of yours shaken a little and that fiery look replaced with worry.

Finally you reached to his spot, grabbing his hand with tight grip, leaning over to kiss his cheek, a gesture that seemed so sweet for your guests, but you just whispered to his ear.

“I’ll make you pay for this, you dick.”

He just bit into his lip, holding his laugh in, looking at the priest who was about to wed them. You put on your best smile, looking forward to spend the rest of your life with this number one asshole. But he was yours. And you loved him to the moon and back.

///

The honeymoon location was meant to be a surprise. Even after a few times of your attempts of trying to find out, George wasn’t giving you a single clue.

Spending the atrocious seventeen hours in the plane seat, you found your fun with it, every time you got up to the restroom, you brushed your ass over George, making him clear his throat and keep his composure.

Yes, he was or you were wealthy enough to have your own private jet, but your one condition was to travel like the ordinary people at least once.

Finally, the last flight with a small plane took you to the private island, with a bungalow at its centre.

The manager of the location showed you to your house where you were about to spend the next two weeks. No signal, no civilization, supply arriving twice a day.

While George was discussing details with him, you laid down on the very spacious bed in the bedroom, which had a view over the beautiful scenery of the island. You didn’t know how that happened but you fell asleep, exhausted from the travels.

The chirping of birds woke you up, it was evening already, the house was filled with silence and George nowhere near you. Walking out of the bedroom, yawning and running a hand through your hair, you walked to the living room which had a small pool at the side with another view over the ocean and the nature of the island.

And there he was. Naked, his body dipped in the water, leaning over the edge of the pool, his gaze travelling up and down your figure with his hungry look. You shivered, feeling that your adventures just began.

“I see you had your beauty sleep, my love. Strip and come here.” His voice was demanding and you wanted to slip out another funny remark, but you bit into your tongue and got yourself naked, slowly moving down the stairs to the pool, water devouring your curves. George couldn’t take it anymore, he was hard all day after your naughty little encounters. He moved through the water to capture you in his arms,

“I was waiting for this whole day.” Whispering, he nibbled at your ear, making you gasp. Grabbing your thighs, he met your hips with his, making you feel how desperate he was for you. Another little move and he slid into your folds, your eyes wide, your mouth letting out a loud moan. The water from the pool washed over your skin in a steady rhythm while George held you close to his body.

The warmth of his skin against yours made you lose your mind. Holding you against the wall of the pool, he was sliding in and out of you, each time his thrusts being harder, hitting that exact spot inside you.

“George-“

“Mhm, that’s right, baby. I want to hear your sweet sounds. You were teasing me throughout the day and I’m about to punish you in the greatest way.”

His teeth sunk into the delicate flesh of your neck, your legs tightening around his waist more.

“You’re not gonna be able to walk. But that’s alright. You’re not getting anywhere far from me this honeymoon.”

“F-fuck…”

“I love it when you curse, wife…”

///

Two fucking pink stripes.

“I’m gonna kill him.” You whispered for yourself, holding a positive pregnancy test you peed on a while ago. You were sure that after you get back from your honeymoon, you’re gonna have more time for yourself and some career improvements, even though George was able to provide for you both.

Well, your career can go to hell now. You rummaged through your toiletry bag, only to realise that you forgot to take a few pills from the blister of your birth control over the vacation. You never thought that it would be this easy to fall pregnant, but evidently George’s precious seed was strong as fuck.

“Honey, I’m home!” The sweet tone of his voice echoed through your apartment. “And I got something for you!”

Grabbing the test, you stomped out of the bathroom, holding it behind your back, wearing a soft smile over your face.

“Hey, love, good that you’re home. I have something for you too.”

“I was at the meeting at the centre today and I saw your favourite flowers, so I got you a bouquet.” George’s smile was infectious, you couldn’t even be upset with him, he stood there with the flowers in his hands, proud that he remembered.

“Well, I have something that lasts a lifetime.” You licked your lips a little nervous, your boldness gone.

He furrowed his brows, not getting where you’re going.

You got your hand from behind your back, stepping closer to him, handing him a pregnancy test. George just looked at it, his gaze blank, a heavy silence filling the room.

“Just say something for fucks sake, George.” You whispered desperately, frowning, trying to read his mind.

He clutched the test, his eyes meeting yours with a devious smile. “I knew it.”

“What? How?”

“You were so moody lately, more than you already are, your boobs are more swollen and that ass of yours is much fuller than before. Also you were sick for the past few days, so…”

You let out a deep sigh, your hand instinctively moving around your nonexistent belly. “So, are we keeping it? Do you want this?”

Placing the flowers aside, George walked to you, placing his hand over yours, while holding your gaze, his other hand on your cheek.

“You’re my wife. My family. My whole world. And I’m ready to be a father. I want everything life can offer to us. I love you. I love the baby already.”

///

“Let’s face it, our eldest son is an ass.” Your stern tone echoed through the kitchen, as you prepared the snack for your youngest son, who sat next to George at the table. You bought the whole mansion, because your family got bigger through the years, much more than you anticipated.

“Mommy, what is an ass?” Your youngest son asked sweetly, drinking his tea. Looking at him, your eyes softened a little.

George looked at him and then at you with amused smile. “Yeah, mommy, tell us.”

“Sweetie, don’t you want to go bother your sister? I need to talk with daddy alone.” You walked to the table, ruffled the soft hair of his and he just giggled and happily obliged, running to the direction of the room of your teenage daughter.

George was watching the scene, then his eyes rested back on you, his hand reaching out for you to sit on his lap. He was always doing this, trying to avoid the serious situation with being touchy. You kissed his cheek softly, letting out a sigh.

“You bought him a whole F1 team when he was still in diapers and now, when he’s a driver, he’s not appreciative of that. Always bossing around the people from the team, acting like he’s the king. You let this get into his head, being a first born. Also I saw all those girls, who’s falling on their knees for him, there’s always two of them hanging at his sides. I tried to interfere, but he’s not listening to me. Maybe you, the authority of the family, could talk some sense to him.”

“He’s nearly twenty, love. He can do whatever he wants.”

“Is that your argument? Really?” You got up from him in disbelief, walking around the counter to drink your coffee.

“Look, I can talk to him, but I know how I was in my twenties. You used to call me a dick, you know.” Smirking, he leaned against the counter, his predatory look wandering over your figure.

“Ah, ah, you’re still a dick.” You let out a huff, trying to ignore his look as you closed the lid of the tray with food for your youngest.

The door of your daughter’s room bursted out open, she’s stomping in the kitchen with annoyed face.

“Mom! I need to get my makeup done and he’s bothering me, why do you allow him to come to my room, you should be the one to entertain him.” With that she turned back to walk into her room, leaving your youngest just standing there with sad look.

George went immediately to her room, to scold her for inappropriate behaviour, while you got your son into your arms, shushing him from crying.

“She’s in puberty, you know, her hormones raging, but deep down she loves you. Just need time to learn to show it to you properly.”

///

Your eldest son was preparing for the race, wearing his cocky face along with furrowed brows. He looked so much like George, and he knew that he was handsome. Standing at the back of the garage, listening to some conversation of the teammates, you felt your stomach churning. You had only coffee for breakfast, because for a few days you weren’t able to eat anything else, the stress of being a mom of three was too much again. George, who just talked some sense into your eldest, noticed your frown and your paleness and he was beside you within a second.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asked, running a hand over your cheek with a serious look.

“I’m good, really, I just didn’t have breakfast.” You tried to reassure him, but in that moment your stomach gave up and you felt that you’re gonna be sick. George knew, so he rushed you to the back where the restroom was. As you kneeled down beside the toilet, you heaved wildly.

After a while, he helped you to the sink, to where you rinse your mouth. With a sigh you caught his look in the mirror.

“What?”

“Look… After enduring three pregnancies with you, I think that we both know the difference between the sickness from the food and from-“

“From your DNA inside me?”

George let out an amused chuckle, you always having those biting remarks. His hand was at the back of your neck, looking down at your face with a soft smile.

“I wanted to say it more gently.”

“From when you’re so soft and gentle?”

“I’m getting like that every time a baby pops out of you.”

You let out a laugh, grabbing his shirt to kiss him. His fingers tangled in your hair, he deepened the connection, not caring about the fact that you threw up earlier.

“We need to go back, the race is about to start soon.” You whispered against his lips, your forehead rested against his.

“I know.. also, I tried to talk with our son. He just told me that he has a girlfriend. And he didn’t want to bother us by discussing adult things when we have full responsibilities with our youngest.. and our ferocious daughter.”

“A girlfriend? Oh… Well, let’s hope that it’s not gonna end up being a disaster this time.”

///

The crisp air coming from the opened balcony door along with the sun rays woke you up. Humming softly, you moved to the side, opening your eyes, only to see your husband standing naked on the balcony, watching the city around. Smiling to yourself, your body wrapped in comfy sheets of the expensive hotel George booked for your Parisian trip. He heard that you’re awake and he got back to the room, closing the balcony door, sitting beside you on the bed.

“I’m sorry, the cold air must’ve wake you, but I couldn’t help but look at the view.” He smiled gently, his hand placed on your swollen belly, you were six months along.

“It’s okay, the fresh air was nice.” You whispered, looking at him, adoring his face, the sun shining over his cheeks, emphasising his wrinkles, featuring the glimpse of greenish spark in his blue eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” George raised his brow with amused smile, his thumb rubbing circles over your belly.

“About how much I love you. How I love our family. How I gave you a hard time when we met for the first time, but the truth was that I wanted you even earlier than that. I just didn’t want to admit that I’d actually want a man like you.”

“I saw right through you from the start. Always so stubborn, independent, feisty. But I was patient with you. And now we’re here. Married for god knows how long, with our fourth child on the way. You’re so beautiful and I love you so much.”

“I love you too…” you pulled him under the covers with you, sneaking your hands over his body, craving his closeness.

///

“Mom, you’re huge.” Your daughter snorted, sitting on the bed in the master bedroom, while you were trying to put on some tight dress. You shot her a sharp glare, huffing a little, caressing your belly. Your due date was three days ago and there were no signs of your baby girl crawling its way outside. Turning around to face her, you smiled. It was very rare that she spent the time with you, being all busy with her friends and secrets she kept. She even let you cup her cheeks, caress it while she looked into your eyes, smiling happily. There was something odd with her and you couldn’t quite place it.

“Mom, I.. I want to tell you something.”

“Ah. I knew it.”

“I need you to stay calm.”

“Oh, is it bad?”

“No- yes- I don’t know.”

“Are you doing drugs?” You laughed while still holding her face gently.

“No! Mom!”

“Okay, sorry, just tell me, please.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

You raised your brows in surprise. “Well, you’re seventeen, so… what’s wrong with that?”

“It’s not bad that I have him, but who he is.”

“A bad guy?”

“Not exactly, he’s.. he’s a driver, a rival of my brother.”

Your eyes went wide as you understood where she’s pointing.

“No way, darling- you can’t be serious.”

“Yes, my boyfriend is Emilian Verstappen-Piquet.”

You nearly fainted from the news. Emilian was the son of Max and Kelly, a wealthy couple who got George into many troubles with his business. You took in a deep breath and at the same time the pain shot through your belly. Letting out a whimper, you felt something wet running down your legs.

“Fuck…”

“Mom! Mommy! What’s wrong?!” Your daughter had a panic written all over her face as she tried to hold you by your hands.

“Well, your baby sister is interested in your shocking news and she wants out.”

“Dad! Mom’s gonna give birth in the bedroom!”

///

“When I said I want to go back to Italy, I didn’t mean like this.” You let out a soft laugh, having your two year old toddler daughter pressing on your hip, clinging to you, while you were reading through the schedule at the Monza circuit. The sun was shining like crazy, you made sure that your kids had the sunscreen on in tons.

George sat beside you, pushing his sunglasses up to his hair, smiling at your adorable daughter.

“I know, but we’re here for our son, who’s gonna be champion again. And also, when was the last time we were together with only one of our kids? Thank goodness for my parents to help us.”

“Yeah, you’re right. This little one is so quiet and sweet, it’s like a reward after those raging nights with her siblings back then.” You chuckled at your daughter, who had her head over your chest, sucking on her thumb.

George wrapped his hand around your shoulder, ruffling the soft hair of your daughter, kissing your temple.

“She’s the sweetest. It took us a few attempts to finally create a quiet child.”

“Don’t try to underestimate her, maybe she’ll surprise us in the future.” You let out a laugh, your daughter reacting to it with a soft giggle, drooling over your summer dress.

“Oh, darling.” George took her into his arms, she wrapped her soft arms around his neck, sighing in contentment.

You wiped your dress from the drool, watching your husband with your baby and it made your heart nearly burst out with joy. This was your perfect life. And you lived for every aspect of that.

———

Please don’t use my writings without permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

[elisedonut]

I understand why some people get annoyed by focusing on a small thing mentioned about a character

but at the same time if we only know like five things about someone why wouldn't you??

like Colin's only mentioned as having a camera in COS because it was always just for plot convenience but you can pry him having one for the whole series out of my cold dead fingers because it's one of the few defining things we have about him and anytime I've ever seen him written without one he just feels wrong and like that is not my boy

Lavender only mentions rabbits once when talking about her pet binky dying but again that is now a part of her she will now never not have bunny rabbit associations to me

Percy is not in the little known about him category as much but I feel the same way about him liking Divination too yeah it's mentioned once and in a way you could technically argue against but nope he will always like divination to me now because of it

[todayisafridaynight]

Every guy in Yakuza seems like they have enough social awkwardness for Tien to role his eyes at…

there's no feasible chance on earth any man can be more awkward than mountain man tien I'm Going To Hide From My Friends Every Other Year And Then For A Decade After Telling Them I'd Never See Them Again For No Apparent Reason And Only Coming Back Cause the World Was Literally Ending shinhan

[sqoa]

cw stalking

☓☓☓ stalker!satoru likes exploiting his heightened senses to learn everything and anything he can about you. he doesn't even need to be in the fucking room to know that you're sitting with your thighs pressed together because you're still thinking about the letter he slipped under your door that morning.

the letter, in which he wrote the dirtiest details about yourself that not even you picked up on. like how when you're really horny you become restless and can't keep still for too long, or how when you cum your eyes squeeze shut and you almost look scared of the pleasure you're giving yourself. which he loves, because your fear is an aphrodisiac to him.

but you figure whoever it is that's stalking you is only stabbing a guess at what could be true. because there is no way he's someone you've fucked, because you don't fuck on a whim. the only other explanation you can come up with is that he's been in your home, either to install cameras or slip into the shadows late at night when you're touching yourself. which is a ridiculous thought, so he must be assuming.

until you come home from a particularly gruelling day to find a small box on your pillow.

it's black, and wrapped in a blue ribbon that looks hauntingly familiar to the shade of blue—you shake your head. with trembling hands you open the box to find three things. one of which is a baby blue vibrator, the same shade as the ribbon and a certain set of eyes you often think of when you touch yourself. you also find a smaller box with a note attached.

'a promise, until you trust me enough to replace it with the real thing, doll.' it reads, and doesn't make sense until you open the box and find a ring inside. expensive looking and glistening under the moonlight coming in through your window. it fits your ring finger perfectly when curiosity bests you and you slip it on. You should be panicked, locking your doors and calling the police but there's a horrible ache in your lower abdomen that has you awful restless, and you realise that perhaps your sweet-tongued stalker knows a little more about you than you do yourself.

weeks of gifts like this go by, from sex toys to expensive meal deliveries each night, you're starting to feel more like a sugar baby than a victim. and still, you haven't even given in to your stalker... you've been too scared to touch yourself, to put the box of toys he's gifted you to use, because each night as you fall asleep you dream of vile things done to you by a man you can't see the face of. you worry that if you give in, let him watch you fuck yourself stupid on the toys he brought you, you won't want to hate this. to hate the way he calls you his doll, like you're a toy to be played with, in a home he somehow has access to despite how many times you change the locks.

it's not until you're on a mission one day, alongside satoru gojo. you're in an awfully tight space together, stuck in an abandoned warehouse and boxed in by curses that you're sure he could handle in the blink of an eye if he wanted to. but you're here, pressed chest-to-chest and breathing in the scent of his sweat and cologne mixing together—sugar on his breath.

and you're just so needy, after weeks of denying yourself in hopes of boring your stalker away. you have to press your thighs together, satoru's hard abs against your stomach is too much: and the way he looks down at you, laboured breath and glossy lips parted... you have to look away. but when your gaze meets the ground, you catch a glimpse of something that you hadn't noticed before.

a ring on his finger, one that matches yours—hell, it even looks cut from the same gem.

and his voice is poison. "you've been hiding from me haven't you, my doll?"

[bibleofficial]

some would say im a professional photographer; ive gotten exactly 1 photoshoot done & all the pics are blurry. may or may not gotten the camera today impulsively

[malcriada]

Help save Bilal's family!

i want to talk about my friend Bilal @bilal-salah0. for over a year now, Bilal has been living in germany, trying to adjust to his new living situation in a foreign country, learning a new language and working full time. 

when the war started, he was far away from home and his family and has been living in daily fear for their lives ever since. 

being forced to work long hours and promoting his family’s fundraiser at the same time, he has taken on more responsibility than anyone ever should. still, he managed to raise money for their evacuation fund and helped take care of his family’s daily needs with the money he was making while working. 

in a cruel twist of fate, all of this got taken away in an instant. he lost his job and his apartment and even his residence permit. which means he is at danger of deportation from germany that could happen as soon as next week!

i have been in daily contact with Bilal for a while now and connected him with some of my friends in germany. together, we are trying our utmost to make sure he can stay in the country. anyone who knows german bureaucracy knows what kind of hell it is. but we won't give up.

without his job, he was forced to dip into the money of his family’s evacuation fund to cover their daily expenses like food and shelter. this meant he had to raise his goal from €70,000 to €100,000. this was not an easy decision for him to make, he even asked for my advice on whether or not to do it, because he did not want anyone to think he was scamming people. 

even in such a desperate situation, Bilal does not want to be seen as someone who would ever take advantage of people's generosity

his family is comprised of 18 members, 10 of them are adults and 8 are children under 16 years old, some of them newborns who were born amidst the chaos of war and displacement.

currently, he is sitting at:

€71,817 / €100,000

donations have been slowing down ever since he reached his original goal. i cannot stress how important it is that they pick back up!

WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME! HE NEEDS TO REACH HIS GOAL BY AUGUST 15TH!

THAT MEANS HE HAS TO RAISE NEARLY 30K IN THE NEXT TEN DAYS. THIS CANT WAIT.

his campaign has been verified and can be found on @/el-shab-hussein’s and @/nabulsi’s list of vetted fundraisers here (#132, line 136) so PLEASE don't hesitate to share and donate.

With such a tight deadline, i cant do this on my own. So i implore you to PLEASE share this wherever you can– on your whatsapp groups, on your discord servers, please share his story on other platforms wherever you have reach! Please share his story wherever you can, so that we can ease this burden from his shoulders.

[ID: a gfm link with a picture of two small children sitting in the sand in front of a cooking pot. they are looking up a the camera, eyes half-closed. the title reads "Donate to Help Evacuate My Family from Gaza to Safety, organized by Bilal salah" End ID]

tagging for reach under the cut, please let me know if you'd like to be removed:

@meaganfoster @briarhips @dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe

@schoolhater @pcktknife @sawasawako

@feluka @terroristiraqis @irhabiya @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria

@deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @khanger @kibumkim @neechees

@mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @7bitter @tortiefrancis

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @vague-humanoid @criptochecca

@aristotels @komsomolka @xinakwans @heritageposts @nibeul

@ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchilchuck @dykesbat

@watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap @yugiohz

@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @northgazaupdates2

@vakarians-babe @wayneradiotv

@psychotic-gerard @mavigator @communistkenobi @socalgal @chilewithcarnage

@ghelgheli @determinate-negation @papasmoke @omegaversereloaded

@xinakwans @givemearmstopraywith @loombreaking @killy @deathlonging

@palms-upturned @blackpearlblast @littlegermanboy @loveaankilaq @sar-soor

@fridgebride @27-moons @tamarrud @familyabolisher @fleshdyk3

@decolonize-solidarity @palipunk @gothhabiba

[webism]

pornstar!nanami who has a signature style to his videos—all of which are solo content consisting of him, manspreading in front of the camera in an awfully expensive suit. as his hands trace the muscles of his thighs, the seams of his trousers, the outline of his hardened cock.

pornstar!nanami who always takes his time getting to the good stuff, his voice silken as he speaks to those watching him. praise falls from his lips, which are always just out of view—the man doesn't dare show his face. something about professionalism and all.

pornstar!nanami whose videos usually end with him cumming into his closed fist, or into a toy if he's feeling so inclined. as a long time viewer of him, you've come to learn a few things about how he orgasms—he always bucks his hips up, chasing that instinct to breed. he always moans like he's in heat just before his climax, but because he's not great with breathing through his orgasms he chokes up just as he falls over the edge—it's a pretty sound.

pornstar!nanami who sometimes gets messy with it—he's such an organised and ritualistic man in his day-to-day that he sometimes just wants to let loose. sometimes, he'll only pull his cock out of his pants through the fly, and let the world watch as his precum dribbles all over those pressed pants of his. oh and does he go feral knowing that he's dirtying something so expensive with the receipts of his lust. who will stroke himself to completion just to watch his cum stain the fabric he's worked so hard to afford—there's no explaining that away to a drycleaner.

pornstar!nanami who likes to imagine it's a pretty thing riding his thigh that wrecks his trousers. wonders how many of his viewers touch themselves to his videos, hoping the could take him for all he's worth as well.

pornstar!nanami who, after a particularly messy session one day, gets an email after uploading his video. it's not even been ten minutes, which was the length of his video, so he assumes whoever has emailed him came particularly fast to that one.

pornstar!nanami who was more than right in his assumption. because as his eyes rake over the email sent by an adoring fan, he sees about a million different typos that indicate nothing other than messy fingers and a fucked-dumb typist. in your barely legible email, you explain that Mr. Nanamis videos are tagged 'near-you', and you'd happily offer your services as the next sex toy he uses to fuck-and-film in exchange for an orgasm or three.

and oh is pornstar!nanami intrigued. because his life is a busy one, he's a businessman when the sun is up time is precious and human connection is a scheduling conflict—his videos aren't solo out of preference, poor nanami, the pornstar, is a virgin.

pornstar!nanami who, after a few weeks of back and forth and some genuine conversation, ends up with his camera flashing red as you sit naked on his lap. and oh are you happy with the sight of him, blonde and sculpted to perfection underneath those lovely suits of his. Your ass is on display to anyone watching, upper half out of shot as your teeth clash with his.

pornstar!nanami who can't help the sounds he makes when you grind against his clothed cock. your slick, your pooling lust, it smears over the fabric of his pants and leaves a gloss behind in turn. he's ravenous, holding onto your hips and grinding you down against him in all the right ways. who moans into your mouth, already a little pussydrunk and he's barely had a taste of you.

pornstar!nanami who hopes he isn't unseemly in the way he manhandles you to sit properly on his lap. he knows you're as desperate as he is, what with the way you slip your hands down to undo his belt and pull his cock free. your fingers wrapped around his length is enough of a narcotic to cum on the spot, though he steadies his reeling mind and holds out.

pornstar!nanami who offers to fuck you on his fingers first, to use his tongue to warm you up and get you ready for his, frankly overbearing, size. but you're insistent, eager, and lowering yourself onto his aching cock with a kiss to his lips and a sharp inhale shared between you.

pornstar!nanami who thanks whatever god may be out there for letting him film a glimpse of heaven.

pornstar!nanami who can barely keep himself together as you ride him like he's the toy at hand. he's sure he's never been this vocal for his viewers, moaning alone is a feat that is hot at best and hauntingly awkward at worst—this, though—he's never been so mindless. and you love it. all the videos you've watched where his voice is smooth and confident and he's the picture of put-together. having such a man, a gentleman like nanami, absolutely melting with each clench of your dripping pussy around his length? it's an aphrodisiac in itself.

and when you catch onto the fact that pornstar!nanami is about to cum—the bucking of his hips, those drawling moans, the hitch of his breath—you kiss him stupid, and then speak against his pretty swollen lips. 'breathe'

and oh does pornstar!nanami breathe. a desperate droning moan escapes his breath, right into your mouth as he empties himself inside of you like he's trying to give you his last name.

pornstar!nanami who can't help himself. flipping you over and onto your back, pressing you into the mattress as he continues to fuck into you. he's going to pull as many orgasms out of you as he can—it doesn't even register in his mind that, due to the new angle of your bodies, he's just let the world see his face, and the pretty pussy drunk blush that paints it pink.

[pucksandpower]

So Good to Me

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc is the perfect man for you … getting stopped on the street for a random TikTok challenge just serves to prove that even further

The warm Monaco sun beats down on you as you stroll leisurely along the bustling sidewalk, a canvas tote bag filled with fresh produce and flowers from the local farmer’s market hanging from your shoulder. The salty sea breeze wafts across your face, carrying with it the excited chatter and laughter of tourists admiring the luxurious yachts bobbing in Port Hercules.

You smile to yourself, relishing this perfect Mediterranean afternoon. Just a quick stop at home to drop off your purchases, and then maybe you’ll take a dip in the infinity pool on the terrace to cool off before Charles is done with-

“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle!” A young man’s voice breaks through your daydreaming. You glance over to see a twenty-something guy with a neatly trimmed beard, expensive-looking sunglasses, and a black t-shirt emblazoned with HUSTLE in white block letters. He’s holding a mini microphone and has his iPhone pointed at you, clearly filming.

A TikToker.

You sigh internally but force a polite smile.

“Oui, puis-je vous aider?” You reply in French.

“Ah sorry, I don’t speak much French! Do you speak English?” The TikToker asks eagerly in a British accent.

“Yes, I do. Can I help you with something?” You say, switching to English yourself. You just want to get home but you know these influencer types can be annoyingly persistent.

The TikToker grins. “Brilliant! I’m doing a social experiment for my followers. I was wondering — do you have a significant other? A boyfriend or husband perhaps?”

You raise an eyebrow questioningly but decide to humor him. “Um, yes, I have a boyfriend,” you answer simply.

His eyes light up. “Fantastic! And would you say your boyfriend loves you very much?”

You can’t help but chuckle at the boldness of this stranger’s line of questioning. “Yes, I would definitely say that. He loves me a lot,” you confirm, a soft smile playing on your lips as you think of Charles.

“Perfect! Okay, here’s the challenge,” the TikToker announces dramatically, staring intensely into his camera. “I want you to call up your boyfriend right now and ask him to send you some money. Doesn’t matter how much. But for every €100 he sends, I’ll give you €20 to keep for yourself. Let’s see how much he really loves you, shall we?”

You stare at this guy incredulously for a moment before bursting out laughing. Is he serious? He clearly has no idea who your boyfriend is. An amused smirk spreads across your face as you fish your iPhone out of your designer purse.

“Alright, you’re on,” you say confidently, already unlocking your phone and tapping on Charles’ contact. The TikToker looks surprised but excited that you actually agreed to his silly challenge.

“Put it on speaker phone,” he instructs, zooming his camera in on your phone screen which is now dialing Charles.

After a few rings, the warm, honey-smooth voice you adore comes through. “Allô mon amour, what’s up?” Charles greets you sweetly. “I’m just finishing up some simulator runs but I should be done soon to help with dinner.”

“Hey baby,” you reply, your voice automatically softening. “Sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy. But I’m out right now and I just passed by that little boutique near the casino, you know the one? And I saw the most incredible pair of shoes in the window. I swear they were calling my name.”

Charles laughs affectionately, the sound like music to your ears even through the cell phone speaker. “Oh yeah? The ones that were calling your name last week turned out to be, what was it, €900?” He teases.

You roll your eyes playfully even though he can’t see. “Okay, fair, but you know I hardly ever splurge on myself. I’m usually so frugal!”

“Mmhmm, whatever you need to tell yourself, chérie,” Charles says wryly and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Let me guess, you need to go get these dream shoes right now? Or else they’ll haunt you forever?”

“You know me so well,” you gush dramatically. “I promise I’ll pay you back though! I get paid next week and-”

“Hey, hey, stop,” Charles cuts you off gently. “Mon cœur, you never have to pay me back, you know that. I love being able to treat you and spoil you. You deserve the world. Never forget that.”

You feel yourself melt at his earnest words, momentarily forgetting you have an audience. “I love you so much,” you murmur. “Thank you for always being so good to me.”

“Right back at you, ma belle. Je t’aime,” Charles says tenderly. “There, check your banking app. Let me know if you need any more. And have fun shopping! I’ll see you at home in a bit, okay? À bientôt!”

You glance down at your phone as a notification from your bank pops up on the screen. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the amount Charles sent over, but you recover quickly.

“Thank you, baby. See you soon!” You reply before hanging up. You turn back to the TikToker who is gaping at you in disbelief. Casually, you turn your phone screen towards him and his camera so he can clearly see the notification that €10,000 has just been deposited into your account.

The poor guy looks like he’s about to pass out from shock. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, rendered speechless. You just laugh good-naturedly.

“Well, guess I won your little challenge, huh?” You remark, slipping your phone back into your purse. “Tell you what, why don’t you donate whatever money you were going to give me to a local animal shelter instead? I think it’ll be put to much better use there.”

The TikToker finally manages to pick his jaw up off the floor. He laughs shakily and nods. “Yeah ... yeah I can do that. Wow. Um, thanks for being such a good sport about this. And congrats on, uh, winning, I guess?”

You give him a friendly wink. “Anytime. Have a nice rest of your day!” With that, you turn gracefully on your heel and continue on your way back home, feeling rather smug and deeply appreciative of your wonderfully generous boyfriend.

“Wait!” The TikToker calls out after you. You glance back over your shoulder curiously. He hesitates before asking in an awed voice, “If you don’t mind me asking ... who the hell is your boyfriend?”

An enigmatic smile plays on your lips. “No one special really,” you reply breezily. “Just a guy who loves driving fast cars.”

You leave the gaping TikToker in your wake as you saunter off, already daydreaming about showing your appreciation to Charles later for being the most incredible boyfriend imaginable.

Maybe you really will splurge on those designer shoes after all … and pick up a little something special from the lingerie boutique next door while you’re at it.

Your smile widens. Just as a little thank you to your man, of course. Life is good when you’re in love with Charles Leclerc.

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Poly!141 x fem!Reader

TW: sexual content ahead, choo choo

Part 1

“Wake up, love.” A groan left your lips and you flipped over, burying your face further into the fluffy pillow beneath your head. “Five more minutes.” The dark chuckle behind you betrayed that it was John who was trying to wake you up. He rounded the four-poster, and you cracked an eye open, glancing at him “Do I really have to carry you downstairs?” Your lips twitched, and John immediately knew your answer. With a slight huff, he picked you up and carried you downstairs. He plopped down on the couch with you in his lap, as you cuddled up against him, your eyes closed again.

“Look at her, I think we tired her out too much last night.” Johnny chuckled, gently scratching your scalp and running his fingers through your hair. A pleased hum left your throat as you leaned into his touch. “Yeah, you hurting, pretty?” Kyle sounded concerned and you quickly felt his body heat behind you. “’ M fine.” The Sergeant chuckled, kissing your head, before standing up and walking away.

“Okay, time for breakfast, huh?” Your eyes shot open immediately and you glared at Simon, who stood next to the gigantic Christmas tree you had forced the boys to buy and put up. “No! You promised that we would open the gifts first thing if…if…” Simon grinned, his eyebrows raised as you began to grow bashful. “If what, love?” Your lower lip jutted out as you pouted. “If I were a good girl and took a few more…orgasms.” John chuckled behind you. “Look who’s awake now. Don’t tease her, Si. Let’s open the presents.”

And with that, the present marathon began. The guys got presents for each other and opened them one by one, thanking each other. They were usual guy gifts - alcohol, cigars, socks, etc. Things the others could use, but nothing overwhelming. By the time they were done, you had finally woken up enough to point to the presents you had gotten each of them.

Johnny was the first to unwrap his. It was an expensive sketchbook and art set he had been eyeing for some time, but never decided to buy. “Aw, bonnie. Thank you, I appreciate it.” You grinned. “Open it.” With a slight frown, he did as you told him to, his eyes widening as he saw what was decorating the front page. It was a beautiful portrait of the two of you. You had gotten his favorite indie artist to draw it for you and he even signed it. “No way!” With a giant grin, he jumped to his feet. “How did ya- no, when did ya-?” He jumped over the table that was separating him from you, not waiting for an answer. “You are amazing.” Still grinning, he bent down and pressed his lips to yours, keeping it chaste for the moment.

After Johnny pulled back, Simon reached for his present and ripped the wrapping paper off. He eyed the box for a few seconds, suspicious of its content, but finally opened it once you insisted that it was fine. To his surprise, he pulled out an old-looking camera, his eyes immediately jumping to yours the moment he realized what he was holding. “Where did you find this?” You shrugged, still wrapped in John’s arms. “Did some research. Is it the right one?” Still looking dumbfounded, he nodded. “Y-Yeah. It’s uhm…it’s the right one. Thank you.” You smiled at him, thinking back to when he opened up to you about his hobby when he was a child, how his mother had bought him a second-hand camera just so he could find some joy in life. You spent months trying to find the same model and make, and when you did find it, you knew it was the perfect present. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t realize Simon was standing right in front of you until you felt his lips against your forehead. “Thank you, love.” A smile formed on your lips as you gazed up at him. “Of course, Si.”

Kyle was next and he made quick work of the wrapping paper, just like Simon. He grinned the moment he realized what it was and skipped over, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “Thank you, sweets.” It was a quiet mumble against your lips before he kissed you again and pulled away. Johnny immediately grew curious, trying to see what you had gifted to Kyle, but the Seargent quickly pulled away, hiding the present. You giggled as you watched Johnny chase Kyle around until the left the living room, both of them yelling at each other. Simon glanced at you, a slight frown on his face. “Do we want to know?” Still giggling, you shook your head, thinking about the different colored yarn balls and crocheting needles. He had confided in you not too long ago that he wanted to try it, but was too shy around the others. You just hoped that he would see the encouragement and take it up.

“What about me?” John gently squeezed the fat on your hips, gathering your attention. “Oh.” You pointed at a small, beautifully wrapped box and Simon handed it to you. With his free hand, he took it, turning it over as if trying to guess what it was. “Just open it.” With a dark chuckle, he did, quickly shredding the paper and frowning as he saw that it was a watch box. But when he opened it, the frown disappeared and his eyes widened. “Where did you find this?”

A few months ago, during an op, his watch broke. Usually, that wouldn’t be all too bad, better the watch, that can be replaced, than his hand or wrist. But the watch was ancient, vintage as he called it and it meant a lot to him. He didn’t act like it, but it broke his heart whenever he looked at it, hidden away in the top drawer of his desk. And it broke your heart. So, together with Simon, you scoured all different kinds of jewelry stores and online until you found the exact same model, working and in good condition.

John closed the lid of the box and pulled you even closer against himself. "Thank you." His voice was barely above a whisper as he pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was gentle at first, his lips moving slowly against yours as his hand came up to cup your cheek. You melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as the kiss deepened. But before it could go too far, Johnny and Kyle came barreling back into the room. “I want a hat.” The Scot was grinning at the other male. “I’m not making you a hat.” Kyle shook his head, but the grin on his face betrayed him. You and John pulled apart, him looking annoyed while you just chuckled at the familiar antics.

“Oh? You guys done?” Simon nodded as Johnny and Kyle sat down again, a smirk growing on their lips. “So, now it’s time for her presents?” And oh, there were presents. From lingerie and jewelry to plane tickets for your dream vacation. By the time you had unwrapped and opened all of them, Simon and Johnny had disappeared into the kitchen to make breakfast. “You guys are crazy. That’s way too much!” John shook his head, squeezing you tighter against him. “Nonsense. You deserve so much more.” Kyle interrupted the Captain. “And some of this may be compensation for having to put up with Johnny.” Immediately, Scottish curses sounded from the kitchen, making you chuckle.

“Thank you, guys. I love you. All of you.” John pressed a kiss to your cheeks, Kyle matching it on the other side, before both of them pulled away, making eye contact. “There is actually one more gift, wait here.” Price shifted you from his lap and sat you down on the couch, before he and Kyle disappeared, closely followed by Simon and Johnny who left the kitchen and followed the other two soldiers. You were curious but decided to be a good girl and wait patiently. While doing so, you glanced over all of your presents again, a font smile tugging on your lips. You really loved these idiots.

Someone clearing their throat pulled you out of your thoughts and you looked up, finding the four soldiers standing in front of you, naked, safe for a pretty bow wrapped around each of their cocks. “Ready for your final present, love?” They all grinned at you and you couldn’t help but grin back. Hell yes, you were ready!

A/N: If you're seeing this, it means I can finally upload again! Yay! Idk why but Tumblr wouldn't let me upload the last few days, no matter what I tried it didn't work. But whenever this goes up, I hope I can go back to my normal schedule! Love you guys!

[beloveds-embrace]

OK IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR A WHILE

so I keep seeing these ads for “pheromone perfume” pop up. the women in who advertise it say that it makes men go crazy, it smells amazing, they can’t get their bfs off of them whenever they put it on (and usually they put it on and then set up the camera and wait for their significant other to walk in the room and react to it)

and every time I see one of those ads, I think of designationless reader.

idk if that’s something they’d ever do, but I feel like it would be interesting for them to dab some of it on their wrists and behind their ears, as well as where their scent glands are and see how the guys react to it 🤭🤭

Anon i love you and I am smooching your brain so hard rn

The idea had been simmering in your mind for weeks, born from the endless pheromone perfume ads that flooded your late-night scrolling. People with bright smiles swore their perfumes were magic, capable of driving their partners wild with desire. But you weren’t like those people. You had no designation, no scent, no pheromones to speak of-

The ads made you feel like an outsider all over again. But they also left you wondering- what if there was a way to bridge that gap, just a little?

That’s how you found yourself at a specialized lab, the kind that catered to people willing to spend a small fortune for something deeply personal. It wasn’t easy. The process was invasive, awkward, and expensive. The technicians had taken a lot of samples of your body- skin oils, sweat, saliva- examining them under microscopes, running them through machines you didn’t understand, distilling your very essence into a single vial of concentrated potential.

When you walked out with the tiny glass bottle, your wallet was lighter, and your chest was tight with nerves.

What if this didn’t work?

What if it did?

Being scentless had always set you apart, a quiet absence in a world built on pheromones and instinct. You didn’t have the alluring pull of an omega’s sweetness or the steady, grounding weight of a beta’s calm. And you certainly didn’t have the commanding presence of an alpha’s dominance.

You were… nothing.

Not that your pack ever made you feel that way. Price, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz treated you like you hung the moon, their affection constant and overwhelming. But sometimes, in the quiet moments, you wondered what it would be like if you could scent them. If you could mark them the way they marked you. If you could pull them closer without relying on their instincts to protect what was theirs.

You’d dabbed the finished product on experimentally: just behind your ears, at the base of your throat, and along the faint line of your collarbone. You added drops to your wrists and even a little over your faulty scent glands, though you weren’t sure why. It had no scent for you, and you were almost worried that they might have scammed you.

But their reactions convinced you otherwise.

The moment he walked into the common area, his steps faltered. His broad shoulders stiffened, and his blue eyes sharpened, narrowing as if sensing something just out of reach. He sniffed once, subtly at first, but then again, deeper, his nostrils flaring, and his hands flexed at his sides.

“Something’s… different.” He muttered, almost to himself, but his voice was low enough to send a shiver through you.

“Something wrong, Cap?” You asked innocently, feigning ignorance as Soap entered behind him.

Soap stopped in his tracks, bright demeanor dimming as his eyes zeroed in on you. His head tilted, his mouth parting slightly as he breathed in deeply. “Lass,” he murmured, soft and careful. “What are you wearin’?”

“Clothes? What else would I be wearing, Soap?” You replied, voice dry just enough to be convincing. You raised an eyebrow, then, and crossed your arms. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

Gaz appeared next, his movements slower than usual as he approached. Dark eyes narrowed, his focus razor-sharp as his body tensed. He didn’t speak immediately; instead, he circled you slightly, his hands twitching like he wanted to reach out but didn’t know where to start.

Ghost entered last, his imposing frame cutting through the room’s tension like a blade. He didn’t say a word, didn’t ask, didn’t even hesitate. He simply stopped in front of you, his chest rising and falling steadily as his head dipped slightly, his masked face inches from yours. His gloved hands found your waist, and a low growl rumbled in his chest as he inhaled deeply.

“What?” you asked again, blinking at them with wide eyes, your voice lilting with carefully curated confusion. “What’s wrong?”

Price stepped closer as well, his boots heavy against the floor as he studied you. “You smell… different, love.” He said, voice like the distant rumble of thunder.

“Different how?” you asked, biting back a smile.

Johnny couldn’t hold himself back from you any longer, his hands sliding over your hips as he leaned in, his nose brushing against the curve of your neck. He let out a low hum, his warm breath skimming your skin. “Christ,” he murmured, his lips barely grazing your throat, “you smell good. Like somethin’ I can’t quite place.”

Gaz knelt at your side, his hands wrapping around your wrists. He brought one up to his face, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin. “Sweet,” he murmured softly. “Warm, like you’ve been wrapped in sunlight.”

Ghost growled again, deeper this time, the sound vibrating through his chest as his gloved fingers tightened on your waist. He pulled you closer, pressing his masked face against the other side of your neck, and the rumble in his throat sent a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to sell the performance. “I didn’t do anything.”

But the pack wasn’t buying it.

Price’s hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he tilted your face up. Piercing blue eyes searched yours. “You sure about that, love?” he asked, a low grumble that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

Soap pressed a kiss to your collarbone, his teeth grazing the skin lightly as his hands slid beneath your shirt. “Disnnae matter,” he murmured, voice thick with affection and something more primal, more hungry. “Whatever it is, it suits you.”

Gaz hummed in agreement, his lips trailing up the inside of your wrist to the sensitive skin of your palm. “Feels like it’s everywhere,” he said, his voice almost reverent. “Can’t get enough of it. Can’t get enough of you, dove.”

Ghost was silent, but his actions spoke louder than words. He lifted you effortlessly, setting you on the edge of the table with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. His hands found your thighs, his grip firm but gentle as he leaned in, his masked face pressing against your stomach. The low growl in his chest deepened, a possessive sound that sent a thrill through you.

They were relentless after that.

John claimed your lips, firm and demanding, his hands cupping the back of your neck as he tilted your head back. Soap followed, his kisses trailing along your jaw and down your throat, his hands exploring your body with a reverence that made you shiver.

Gaz and Simon kissed the inside of your thighs, their teeth grazing the sensitive skin there as theirs hands held you steady and open, all theirs.

“Perfect girl,” Simon groaned against the back of your thighs, thick fingers digging into your skin. “Ours. Whatever you’d done- you don’t need it. You’ll always be ours.”

Hours passed in a haze of touch and heat, their attention unyielding as they marked every inch of you as their own. They murmured about your scent between kisses, their words a mix of worship and devotion. You played your part perfectly, letting soft, breathless sounds escape your lips as you clung to them, your innocence a carefully crafted mask.

By the time they were done with you, your were very sure they had rubbed off all the perfume off your body, and covered you with their own scents.

When they finally pulled back, in the nest, their bodies heavy with satisfaction, Price cupped your cheek with gaze still burning with intensity. “You don’t need anything to make us want you,” he said, low but steady. He stared straight at you, so that you would not have any reasons to doubt his words. “You’re already perfect.”

You smiled, letting the words wash over you, but said nothing. Your secret was safe, for now.

[sweetnothingtm]

♡ i imagine that Simon Riley is the type to spoil you rotten ♡

Simon doesn’t check his bank statements anymore - just hands you his card and plants a sloppy kiss on your smiling face.

Simon carries all your shopping bags without hesitation, even while you drain him of his worth. He scrolls his phone while you shop aimlessly, his eyes lazily dragging to your frame as you showcase what you want while he waves a hand at you.

yes - anything you want. yes - i mean it, sweetheart.

He follows you like a lost dog through the stores, practically begging for your attention as you wiggle your ass into a million different outfits.

I bet he takes you to all the lingerie stores. It’s his favorite part of the day, squeezed into a changing room as you strip in front of him. He always has a devious smirk, latching the stall lock into place as you hang up every scrap of fabric.

You’d twirl around in a tight lace, lip caught between your teeth as Simon palms himself through his jeans. He’d stare at you, eyes glowing with desire as you innocently checked yourself out and hummed.

do you like it? how do i look?

you look good enough to let me fuck you right now. matter of fact - bend over for me, sweetheart.

Simon would press you up against the mirror, dick pressed against your ass with his breath fanning against your neck. His teeth would graze against your skin, little whimpers coming from your lips as you roll your hips.

His fingers would press into your waist, digging into the silk panties with a price tag hanging off of them. $45 - damn expensive for a pair, but he considered you priceless.

When he inevitably ruins the fabric by cumming all over it, you’d have a little pout spread across your face. He’d roll his eyes, promising you another pair and splaying a hand against your ass while his camera clicks for a photo.

you look too fucking good, might just have to fuck you again when we’re home. you’d like that - wouldn’t you little slut?

Simon Riley would shrug his shoulders when the sales person would ask why theres panties in the trash. He’d swipe his card, hardly looking at the bill as he picked up another bag and watched you glow with happiness.

He always buys you dinner, opens every door for you, and slings his jacket around your shoulders. His hand always rests on your thigh when he drives, fingers tracing delicate shapes on your soft skin.

When he looks over to you, you’re already glowing with adoration and love - a twinkle in your eye as he squeezes your leg and hums.

did you like the gifts, princess? i spoil you huh?

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　TIKTOK TRENDS | PART 5

SUMMARY: 4 times that Y/N and Matt made a couple's trend on tiktok.

WARNING: Kissing (?).

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anons.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

1. We listen, and we don't judge

Y/N's phone was set up, angled perfectly to capture herself and Matt sitting in front of Matt's computer desk in their room, with his arm lazily draped over Y/N’s shoulder, caressing her covered skin.

"Alright, people, welcome back. We’re doing the 'We Listen and We Don’t Judge' trend because, apparently, you guys are crazy to see us admitting some things." Y/N starts, glancing at Matt, who’s watching her through her phone screen with a small smile decorating his features. "Keyword: don’t judge, okay?" She emphasizes, holding up a finger to his face. "I know how you get."

"I’m the least judgmental person, you know." Matt counters, looking directly at her, smirking. "Ladies first."

Y/N looks at the camera dramatically, as if preparing for a confession of a lifetime.

"Okay... so... I’ve been lying about being afraid to get my driver’s license-"

Matt’s jaw drops in faux shock.

"What?!"

"Wait, wait, wait." She quickly holds up her hand. "I say I’m scared, but I’m really not. I just don’t want to drive because I love it when you drive me everywhere so I can be your passenger princess."

Matt covers his face with both hands, groaning.

"Y/N! Are you serious right now?" His voice sounds muffled by his palms.

"Yes!" She giggles. "Because I know you’ll always do it. Even if it's the middle of the night."

He shakes his head, clearly trying not to smile.

"Can't believe I have a second Chris in my life... We listen, and we don’t judge, I guess." He rolls his eyes at her playfully.

"Hey! Don't compare me to Christop-"

"Shh, it's my turn now." Matt straightens up. "Sometimes, when I’m separating our clothes for laundry..." He pauses dramatically.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him.

"What?"

"I... smell your panties to check if they’re, like, really dirty."

Her mouth falls open.

"MATT!"

"What?!" He exclaims defensively. "We listen, and we don’t judge, remember?"

"That’s not listening. That’s borderline psychotic!" She laughs, smacking his arm.

"It’s efficient!" He insists, laughing along with her. "And they always smell good, by the way."

"Okay, okay. That's what intimacy and three years living together do to you, guys." She says, sighing dramatically. "My turn again." Y/N leans forward conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Sometimes, especially during the winter, when there are dirty dishes in the sink, I pretend not to see them, so you’ll wash them."

Matt throws his head back in exaggerated disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?! You make me wash dishes all the time purposefully, then?"

"We listen, and we don’t judge!" She says quickly, pointing at him.

"Y/N, I knew it! I’d be like, 'How did she miss that giant pile of plates?', because I know that Chris doesn't wash his for anything in this world and Nick is cleaner than that."

"It’s selective blindness." She admits, shrugging innocently. "And don't call me dirty, asshole!"

"Unreal." He mutters, but his smile lets it be known that he isn't mad. "Okay, my turn. Remember when I went to Boston by plane alone last month, and I decided last minute I wanted you to come with me?"

Y/N nods.

"Yeah, and you surprised me with a plane ticket. It was so sweet."

"Well, the tickets were super expensive exactly because it was last minute, like a thousand dollars more than when I bought mine." Matt starts, scratching the back of his neck. "But I bought it anyway because I didn’t want us to be on separate planes. If the plane crashed, I wanted us to die together."

Y/N stares at him in shock.

"MATT. WHAT THE-"

"We listen, and we don’t judge!" He defends himself, holding up his hands.

"That is so sweet and so morbid at the same time!" She exclaims.

Matt shrugs.

"It made sense to me at the time."

Y/N takes a deep breath, clearly trying not to laugh too hard.

"Can't believe you spent more than a thousand dollars on a plane ticket to Boston." She shook her head in disbelief.

"Can't blame me for wanting to have my girl back home with me." He muttered, smiling shyly at her.

She pouts, looking at the camera with a 'Are you seeing this cuteness?' look.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" She takes his hand closer to hers, taking it to her mouth and sealing his skin with her lips. "Alright. Here’s another one. I always let you serve me my plate when I cook any meal because I know you’ll put more food on mine than yours."

Matt raises an eyebrow.

"And you call me psychotic?"

"You’re predictable!" She shoots back, grinning. "And the more food, the better."

He chuckles.

"Fine. We listen, and we don’t judge. My turn again. When I go to take a shower and say I forgot to grab my towel..."

Y/N immediately narrows her eyes.

"Oh no. What now?"

"I didn’t actually forget it. I’m just too lazy to grab it myself, so I call you to bring it to me."

"Matthew!" She exclaims, smacking his arm again.

He laughs, unbothered.

"Hey, you bring it every time, so I figured it wasn’t a big deal."

She rolls her eyes, trying not to laugh.

"Of course I do! I don't want you to drip all over our bedroom." Her voice gets high-pitched. "Unbelievable." Y/N takes a deep breath while looking at her phone camera. "Okay, last one from me. When you go record videos with Nick and Chris out of the house, I play Fortnite on your computer."

Matt’s eyes widen.

"No way!"

"Yes way!"

"On my account?"

"Yup!"

Matt gasps, scandalized.

"You’re out here ruining my stats?"

"No! I’m good, I promise!"

He narrows his eyes at her, clearly skeptical but amused.

"Chat, she's lucky she's cute."

Y/N grins and leans against him, softly caressing his hand with her fingers.

"Your turn to end it, babe."

Matt thinks for a moment, then grins.

"Alright. Final confession. One time, you needed my help to open this sweet jar I had just bought. It was one of those really stubborn, super-sealed ones, and you couldn’t get it open no matter how hard you tried."

"So...?" Y/N pulls away from him, frowning in confusion.

"The thing is, when I got it open, you looked at me in this way that... let’s just say I felt very appreciative of my strength." He wetted his lips, trying to hide his smile.

"Matt!" She exclaimed, searching his eyes with wide ones, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

"Wait, wait, it gets better!" He said, waving her off. "So later, I went back to that sweet jar and tightened it as hard as I possibly could just so you'd have to ask me for help again."

Y/N mouth open in disbelief.

"You did not."

"Oh, I absolutely did." He said proudly, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "And it worked! Next day, you were struggling with it again, and there I was, showing up to save your day."

Y/N swatted his arm, though she couldn’t help but laugh.

"You’re the worst! I can’t believe you manipulated me with a sweet jar."

"It’s called strategy, babe." He said, dodging her playful hits. "And you totally fell for it."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

2. A boy who's jacked and kind

The soft hum of Sabrina's song filled the room as Y/N set her phone up on the dresser, already recording, before standing in front of Matt, a sweet smile tugging at her lips as she looked into the front camera. Her hands rested loosely at her sides, and her bright expression mirrored the expectation to finally do the TikTok trend.

Behind her, Matt stood tall, his brown hair slightly messy decorating his straight face. His posture was casual, hands resting on his hips, as he waited for the right moment.

As the verse "A boy who’s jacked and kind” began to play, Matt immediately lowered himself behind her, bending slightly to grab Y/N by her thighs. The motion was swift but careful, his hands wrapping securely around her legs just above her knees. Without breaking a sweat, he hoisted her into the air, lifting her as though she weighed nothing.

Y/N let out a loud, surprised laugh, but it didn’t break her radiant smile to the phone. She reached down instinctively to hold onto his shoulder, her fingers brushing the collar of his pink shirt for stability.

Matt straightened up, effortlessly placing her on his right shoulder. His grip on her thighs was firm yet gentle, ensuring she wouldn’t lose her balance. With Y/N sitting comfortably on him, Matt turned his attention back to the front camera.

Grinning brightly, he flexed his left bicep exaggeratedly, his arm bulging just enough to make the flex appear, a contrast to his lean frame.

The two of them looked like they were in Disneyland, their expressions full of joy. Matt’s smile stretched wide, his boyish expression evident as he proudly held Y/N on his shoulder. Meanwhile, Y/N’s laughter was silent as she leaned forward slightly, her cheeks flushing with amusement.

When posted, Y/N made sure to put the caption as: those push-ups are really getting him somewhere.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

3. Being rude to my triplet's girlfriend to see his reaction

The phone was already recording when the Crumbl Cookies were neatly arranged on the wooden table. The pastel pink box was opened, revealing an assortment of cookies that looked almost too pretty to eat. Y/N sat between Matt and Chris, her eyes wide with excitement as she leaned closer to it. Nick stood opposite them, fiddling with his phone to adjust the camera angle.

"This is so cute." Y/N said, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. "I can’t believe I’m finally doing a Crumbl Cookie review with you guys!"

Matt smiled at her, his hand naturally finding its place on her knee beneath the table.

"You'll love the lemon one." He said, his tone warm and encouraging.

Chris and Nick exchanged a quick glance, their smirks barely concealed. They had planned this little prank earlier that morning, where they would pretend to be rude to Matt's girlfriend just to see his reaction. Y/N was in on it, of course, and she’d been surprisingly eager to play along.

"Alright, let’s get this over with." Nick said, his tone sharp as he rolled his eyes dramatically, sitting by Chris's side. "Can we just start? I don’t want to sit here all day."

Y/N blinked, her smile faltering just slightly.

"Oh, um, okay..." She said softly, glancing at Matt, who immediately noticed the change in her tone.

"What’s the rush?" Matt asked, narrowing his eyes at Nick.

"Yeah, Nick." Chris chimed in, turning slightly so he could look into Nick's eyes. "Not like this is going to be a life-changing experience or anything. It’s just cookies."

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, her hand fidgeting with her napkin.

"I mean, I’m just really excited." She said, her voice quieter now, playing her part. "I've seen you guys do this when you went back to Boston, and I really wanted to do it too."

Matt’s jaw tensed as he looked between his brothers.

"What the fuck is wrong with you two? You both like some of those."

Nick scoffed, picking up a cookie and taking a careless bite.

"Honestly, I don’t get the hype. They’re just cookies. We've tried all of it with Nate already. You don’t have to act like it’s a five-star restaurant or something."

Chris snorted, grabbing his own cookie and making a point to ignore Y/N entirely.

"Yeah, and she hasn’t even tried them yet. Bet she’s gonna overreact or something."

Matt’s hand left Y/N’s knee as he sat up straighter, his protective instincts kicking in.

"What the fuck are you guys on about?" He snapped, his voice sharper now. "Why are you being such assholes?"

Y/N pretended to shrink in her seat, her lips pressing together as if she were holding back tears. Matt noticed immediately and turned his full attention to her.

"Babe, hey." He said softly while his hands found hers, squeezing her fingers, his voice and act a stark contrast to the anger he’d just directed at his brothers. "Don’t listen to them, okay? They’re just being idiots. We can eat all of it if you want to."

Y/N nodded, her eyes wide as she tried to maintain her act.

"I just... I was really excited, but maybe it’s not a big deal. We can do another-"

"No, it is a big deal." Matt said firmly, his gaze flicking back to Nick and Chris with a glare that could melt ice. "What are you two on about? She’s excited about this, and you’re just shitting on it for no reason."

Chris held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, chill, Matt. It’s not that serious."

Matt’s eyes narrowed, his voice rising.

"Not that serious? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re being rude as hell to my girlfriend. How is that not serious?"

Nick laughed nervously, clearly trying to stay in character but faltering under Matt’s hard stare.

"We’re just saying it’s not a big deal. No need to get all worked up."

Matt scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You’re unbelievable. Seriously, what’s wrong with you? Do you not know how to treat people with respect?"

Y/N placed a gentle hand on Matt’s arm, trying to calm him down.

"Matt, it’s okay..."

"No, it’s not okay." He said, his voice softening as he looked at her but still laced with frustration. "You don’t deserve to be treated like this, especially not by them." He pointed at his brothers with disdain. "You two can get out of here if it's so hard to eat cookies, and-"

Chris finally cracked, unable to hold back his laughter any longer, interrupting the middle triplet.

"Okay, okay, stop. Matt, it’s a joke!"

Nick followed suit, laughing as he raised his hands defensively.

"Yeah, it’s a TikTok trend! We were just messing with you to see how you’d react."

Matt froze, his brows furrowing as he processed their words.

"A trend?"

Y/N bit her lip, finally breaking character as she let out a soft laugh.

"Yeah... I knew about it. I’m sorry, babe, but we wanted to see how you’d feel in this situation."

Matt’s expression shifted from anger to disbelief as he leaned back in his chair.

"You’re kidding me."

Chris grinned, still laughing.

"Dude, you were ready to kill us. You’re such a good boyfriend. It’s actually insane."

"You guys are fucking idiots." Matt ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head with a mix of exasperation and amusement. "I'm going to bed. C'mon, Y/N."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

4. Rating kisses

The warm glow of fairy lights lit up the cozy bedroom as Y/N adjusted her phone on her right hand, Matt's fingers brushing against her thigh as she settled by his side on the edge of the bed.

"So." Y/N began. "This filter gives us ten different types of kisses, and we have to rate each one of them."

Matr tilted her head, smirking.

"And this is your excuse to receive ten kisses from me in one sitting?"

Y/N gasped dramatically, her hand flying to her chest.

"Excuse me? This is for science! We are conducting a very serious experiment here."

Matt rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile.

"Fine. Let’s see how you do, Ms. Science."

She hit the screen, and the filter started spinning before landing on the first kiss: Cheek Kiss.

Matt leaned closer, cupping her face with one hand as he pressed a soft, warm kiss to her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her blush. He pulled back, a smug look on his face.

"Well?" He prompted, his eyebrows wiggling jokingly.

"Hmm... I’ll give it a 2." She shrugged, biting back a grin when seeing his reaction to her saying. "It was nice, but we’ve got nine more to go. Gotta leave room for improvement."

Matt muttered something under his breath about "ungrateful test subjects", but the filter moved on to the next kiss: Neck Kiss.

Y/N’s lips curved into a large grin, and her cheeks turned pink.

"Don’t make this weird, Matthew."

"Oh, I would never." He said, his voice dripping with mock innocence.

He scooted closer, gently brushing her hair aside. His lips brushed against the curve of her neck, soft and slow, sending a shiver down her spine. She let out an involuntary squeak, his warm breath tickling her skin, and Matt pulled back with a satisfied smile.

"Okay." She said, trying to compose herself. "That’s a 3."

"Damn right it is." He said, leaning back triumphantly.

The next kiss popped up: Forehead Kiss.

Matt’s expression softened immediately. He reached out, cupping her face with both hands, bending her head before leaning in to press a tender kiss to her forehead. It wasn’t rushed or playful, just sweet and sincere, filled with affection.

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, her heart melting at the gesture. When she opened them, her voice was soft.

"That’s a 4. I really love this one."

Matt smiled, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

"I do, too."

The fourth kiss was Spiderman Kiss.

Matt immediately leaned back, his head hanging on the air above the mattress, almost bending his whole spine with his hair falling around.

"Alright, let’s do this." He said, his voice muffled by his awkward position.

Y/N laughed, leaning over him and pressing an upside-down kiss to his lips, the angle making it clumsy but undeniably sweet.

They pulled apart, both laughing.

"Okay, that’s a 7." Y/N said, still giggling. "Cute, but kind of impractical."

"Agreed." Matt said, sitting back up and rubbing his aching neck.

The next kiss was Nose Kiss.

Y/N laughed softly as Matt leaned in again, rubbing their noses together in an exaggerated Eskimo kiss before pecking the tip of her nose lightly.

"You're adorable." She looked into his eyes for a second. "I’ll give it a 5."

Then came the Bite Kiss.

Matt’s grin turned mischievous.

"Now this one, I'm the best at."

"Don’t be too hard!" Y/N warned, but her voice wavered slightly. "You left a bruise on my shoulder the last time you decided that biting me was a good idea."

He ignored her comment and lifted her arm, his teeth closing around the exposed skin. He pulled back with a boyish grin not even a second later, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"It's romantic. You have to accept that." Matt rolled his eyes playfully, kissing quickly the spot he had just bitten.

"Shut up. Now, that’s a 9 just because I'm sure there's worse than that."

"Hey! There are no bad kisses around here." Matt's voice got high-pitched.

The next was Air Kiss. They both leaned back, dramatically blowing kisses at each other with exaggerated sound effects.

"That’s an 8." Y/N declared.

"Okay." Matt nodded.

The next kiss, Hand Kiss, took a more romantic turn. Matt gently took her hand in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles before he lifted it to his lips. His kiss was slow and deliberate, his eyes locking with hers as he pulled away.

Y/N’s heart fluttered.

"Okay, kind sir, that’s a 6. Sweet, but it doesn’t beat the others."

Matt pouted.

"Tough crowd."

When Foot Kiss appeared, Y/N recoiled.

"No way. Absolutely not."

"Come on, we’ve committed this far!" Matt argued, leaning down and grabbing her bare foot before she could escape. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of it, grinning as she dissolved into laughter, kicking against his hands lightly, causing the phone to tremble.

"That’s a 10." She said through her giggles, trying to breathe in while sitting up again.

"Fair." He admitted, wiping his lips jokingly.

Finally, the last kiss appeared: Lip Kiss.

Matt’s teasing demeanor softened as he leaned in, his hand cupping her jaw and his thumb caressing her cheek. His lips met hers in a slow, lingering kiss that made the rest of the world fade away. It was gentle but filled with so much love that Y/N felt her heart swell in her chest.

When he pulled back, she looked at him with a dazed smile.

"That’s a 1. Obviously."

Matt grinned, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"How does it feel to scientifically prove I’m the best kisser ever?"

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes to her phone camera.

"Don’t let it go to your head, King of Kisses."

"Too late." Matt said, pressing another kiss to the side of her head.