#learn to raise your confidence

[dullahandyke]

i need to replay kh1 and also play the rest of the kh games so i can think thoughts about yuriverse!rikai

[theygender]

My gf and I have talked about hypothetically opening up our relationship at some point in the future which would make me very happy as a polyamorous person, but I just realized that if that actually happens and I have to go back out on the dating scene I'm gonna have some trouble bc now that I'm more outwardly butch people are gonna expect me to make the first move and I have never made a first move in my entire life

In all of my relationships but two the first move was made by the other person, and I wasn't even the person who made the first move in the other two. In the first one the girl chickened out on her plans to ask me out and then our mutual friend who didn't realize that that had happened outed her by asking me what I said afterwards, and in the second one me and the other person both went to the same friend on the same day to talk about our crushes on each other and then she made us talk about our feelings

I met my current girlfriend on a dating app, and the first time she tried to ask me on a date she wanted to take me to the theater so she asked me if I had seen the new beauty & the beast movie and then instead of realizing that she was asking me on a date I said that I'd already seen it and gave her a negative review of the movie. And then when she asked me on a date again a few weeks later I had to ask to make sure it was a date when I got there 😭

...And that reminds me of another event in high school where a girl I liked took me to the mall and we walked around holding hands the entire time and then afterwards I had to get one of our mutual friends to ask her if it was supposed to be a date bc I was too nervous and also stupid 😭 Another girl that year asked me to skip class with her and told me that if I flashed my pretty smile at the teacher I could probably get away with it and I had to show the text to my friend to ask if she was flirting. I'm gonna die out there on my own 😭

[duodipersponsh]

FOUND IT

this comic was the one i read in july 2022, then reread, then reread again and finally wrote to a friend (bc i wouldn't be able to say it out loud) that i wanna try out he/him when we next meet up

i've accidentally misgendered myself SO MANY TIMES that day but other than that it was unbelievably cool, it was life-changing. Literally. I started saying he/him about myself thinking "boy, i don't wanna die without having tried it at least once?". I've been using them every single day since then. I dunno how to thank for that but op, you've changed my life

[wonderthor]

your neighbor sukuna who lives in one of the apartments upstairs may be a rough and dangerous man, but he’s funny and nice to you, so you become friends anyway. you even develop a little crush on him, and when he calls you little pet names like sweetheart and doll, you start to think he might like you too. one night you decide to go out for drinks, and as he drinks more he lets out more about his past and you learn he is a little more dangerous than you thought. he talks about how he broke into people’s houses at night all the time to steal their things and when he finally did get caught and locked up, he had probably broke into over 200 people’s houses by then.

“that’s crazy, but you wouldn’t get that lucky with me though”

he sets his beer down, raising his eyebrow at you in question.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean that im a very light sleeper, always have been. and there’s no way you couldn’t break into my apartment without me knowing it.”

he picks his beer back up and takes a swig before looking back at you with a smirk.

“you sure about that?”

you confidentially smirk back at him.

“oh absolutely. i get woken up if the wind blows a little too hard against the window. i even woke up that one time i had a mouse in my apartment and i could hear it scurrying across the floor. i would definitely hear you open my door and walk around.”

sukuna taps his fingers against the bar counter with his head in his hands and his eyes still on you, thinking.

“how about we make a bet.”

“a bet? on what?”

“if i can get into your locked apartment and into your bedroom without waking you up, i win. if i do, you win.”

“and what do i get when i win?”

sukuna chuckles at that, almost like a villain’s laugh.

“i wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

you roll your eyes at him.

“oh please, you sound way to confident in your impossible chance at winning.”

he laughs at you again.

“i am. there’s a reason i was able to break in so many people’s houses while they were still in there without getting caught. it’s kind of my specialty.”

you take another sip of your drink and lean back.

“your specialty, huh? and you still haven’t mentioned what we get if we win.”

“what do you want?”

his tone caught you off guard for a second, getting deeper and more serious without you expecting it.

“u-um, i don’t know. you can pick.”

he smiles at you again, a devious smile this time as he leans in closer to you.

“if i win, i get to do whatever i want to you. if you win, you get to do whatever you want to me.”

time stops for a minute and you don’t realize that you’re just staring at him until after several seconds.

“what do you m-mean by that?”

he leans back to hold his beer and his playful demeanor is back.

“well according to you, you won’t have to worry about that, right?”

a couple of days went by and you were still on edge. you mentally slept with your eyes open and even kept your bedroom door cracked, just in case you really couldn’t hear him come in. even though you knew it was just a bet and a silly little game, you couldn’t stop your heart from pounding against your chest. maybe because you still didn’t really know what he said meant. and there was also the eerie feeling that you were essentially waiting for him to break into your apartment, like a real robber. like the robber he used to be. and even though you knew he wasn’t dangerous to you and wouldn’t hurt you, you were still admittedly a little scared. you truly didn’t know what to expect.

it had been a couple of weeks now and you were sure sukuna was fucking with you. whenever you saw him in passing, he was his normal playful and flirty self, and mentioning nothing of the bet. you were starting to think he was kidding, just making that up to scare you and mess with you. or you also thought he could have just forgotten, since he was drinking a little and couldn’t have forgotten all about it.

but little did you know that you were playing right into his hands. he was waiting on you to lose your edge, to slowly get comfortable enough again to slip into deep and dream-filled sleeps. that’s why you didn’t expect it, why you didn’t expect to lose.

when you woke up one night, you felt your heart fall out of your body and your eyes almost jump from their sockets. there he was, in your apartment, in your bedroom, on your bed, leaning over you on his hands and knees. when he saw that you were awake and too stunned to speak, he smirked and leaned in closer to you until his face was just inches from yours.

“guess i win, sweetheart.”

[nanaslutt]

• I will always catch you •

ʚ synopsis: You and Nanami play a game of tag, if he wins he spanks you

ʚ cont: fem reader, spanking, fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation

You stood with your hands perched on the back of the couch, your eyes not once straying from where they were glued to Nanami's opposite the couch from you, the only thing that separated the two of you besides the coffee table that sat in front of the couch. "Ten second headstart." You said, already feeling your heart start to pick up at the promise of Nanami chasing you around. 

You knew logically no matter how much time you asked for, he would always catch you in the end, but that's what you wanted, not that you would tell him that—even if he already knew. Nanami nodded, removing his hands from his pockets confidently, his mouth barely quirking up in a smile at the corners, the skin beside his mouth dimpling with it. "You won't catch me this time." Lie. "We'll see." Was his only reply before he raised his hands and started ticking down his fingers, letting you know he had started the timer.

You ran around the couch, passing him where he stood on the other side as you ran for the kitchen across the room, using the large island in the middle of it to separate him from you. It was your best bet to escape him for as long as possible, wait him out here, bait him to stalk you around the island, and shoot up the stairs for his office which had the only locking door in the house save for the bathroom, but that was too close to the kitchen, you needed more time to get away. 

You watched, eyes bright and heart racing as his fingers hit 1, then he closed his hand tightly, letting you know you were out of time before he started walking toward you calmly. Your smile grew larger the closer he got, as did his, though he was far more cocky and confident than yours which was playful and full of adrenaline. "Aren't you going to run, sweetheart?" Nanami asked, cocking his head to the side as he made his way to the kitchen, standing across the island from you.

"I told you I learned some new tricks, you won't catch me this time." You said confidently, moving slowly toward the corner of the island, trying to bait Nanami into following you. And sure enough, he did. He didn't reply to you, just started walking towards the side in which you were closest to him, making you walk away from him, the two of you slowly circling the kitchen island as you made your way back to the opening of the living room.

You knew not to avert your eyes to his and give away your plans, if he caught you looking towards the direction you were going to run, he would catch you—no doubt about it. Nanami was taller and faster, his long legs eating up the space between you like nothing whenever you ran from him, so you had to be smart about this. "We'll see if your tricks are enough." Nanami finally voiced, stopping in his tracks diagonal to you, him standing where you just were in the kitchen, your positions now reversed. 

You smiled at him in response, showing your teeth before you turned abruptly and took off sprinting across the living room. Your heart raced in your chest, the sound echoing through your whole body and making that the only thing you were able to hear. You wanted to turn around so bad and see how close he was, but you knew you couldn't afford to do so. You let out a laugh as you reached the banister on the stairs, gripping it tightly as you pulled yourself forward, using that momentum to run up them as quickly as you could. 

You tried not to think about how Nanami often went up the steps two at a time, so if he was running he could probably manage three or more... shit. Your adrenaline was still pumping, making you more assured of yourself as you reached the top of the stairs, sure he wasn't right on your tail. His office was in your sight already as you pushed off the wall and sprinted toward the end of the hall. You were mentally praising Nanami for his constant pushing to leave all doors in the house open unless they were being occupied so the air could flow freely between them, making it so none of the rooms were stuffy—meaning the door was wide open and all you had to do was grab that door and slam it like your life depended on it. 

You could only feel your own steps as you raced down the hall, surprised that he hadn't reached the top of the stairs yet, but that meant you had one, you finally had one. You reached the office and grabbed the handle before spinning yourself around and momentarily disorienting yourself before you were snatched into a pair of strong arms and hoisted over a shoulder with a scream of surprise. You felt like your heart was going to leap out of your chest and run away at the shock.

How had he got you so fast? You were sure he wasn't on your trail, but apparently, that had been wishful thinking. "Nanami!" You laughed, kicking your legs against him, trying to free yourself as he held you over his shoulder with an iron grip, his arm locked tightly around the back of your thighs so you couldn't wiggle out of his grasp. Your laugh was cut short when a harsh smack was left on your ass, the sting making you whip your hands back and cover yourself from him. 

Nanami swiftly kicked the door shut behind him and stalked over to his desk, wrenching your hands away from your ass easily in his grip. "This is my reward for catching you, hands down." He said calmly, the deep baritone of his voice making you shiver as he pulled you off his shoulder and spun you away from him, using his body to press you against the edge of his desk and pushing you down on it with his hand on the middle of your back.

You weren't able to resist his moves, the speed of his actions making your body more pliant than you would've liked. The papers on his desk crumpled under your chest as you tried to push yourself up so you could stand again, and maybe try to attempt to run away, though you never had been successful at that before. Kento grabbed your wrists with both his hands and locked them behind your back with strength only he could possess, freeing himself a hand as he kept you at his mercy, rubbing his free hand against the swell of your ass.

"The new trick you tried didn't work so well." Nanami cooed, stating the obvious and making your face feel hot as he rubbed your loss in your face. "Were you planning to lock yourself in my office?" He asked, sliding his hand up and down the side of your body, making your skin prickle under your shirt. "Yeah, I was close too." You said defiantly, trying to gain back even a little bit of your ego. You had been so sure of yourself and now look at the position you ended up in.

"Mmm," Nanami hummed, the deep sound of it in his throat making your legs part willingly for him as he pressed his knee against the inside of your thigh and made you spread them. "What were you planning to do once you were in here?" He asked, making you pause. You looked around his office, thinking on his words. I don't know, relish in your victory? Bait him through the door? Write taunting notes about how he's a loser and slide them under the door for him to read?

"What do you think would happen when you opened the door? You couldn't stay in here forever." He asked confidently. "I'd come out because I would have won." You said quickly, the answer obvious, "There is no time limit on the game." He said, his fingers pushing up the back of your shirt and sliding against the skin of your back, pushing the fabric against your arms that were locked behind your back. The gears in your head started turning as you considered his words. 

"What do you mean?" You asked, turning your head as far to the side as you could manage to look at him from under your lashes. "I will always catch you, you can't escape me." You opened your mouth to complain, to whine about how the game has been rigged from the start, how there was no way you could ever win, when a loud slap against your ass stopped your words from coming, a different sound escaping you. Your hands balled into fists as you wiggled back against him, trying to find relief against the sting that never came. 

"That's not fair." You pouted. Nanami huffed out a laugh before his large hand rubbed across your backside, his fingers finding the hem of your shorts before pulling them down to pool around your ankles. "No, it's not." He agreed, another harsh smack making contact with your skin, making you jump. Nanami's warm hand stayed against your flesh rubbingaway the pain as he pressed closer to you, his crotch pressed against your left thigh. "But you don't mind as much as you're trying to make me think you do." He said assuredly. 

You felt a tick of annoyance run through you before it was almost completely snuffed out by another slap of his hand, this one followed by two more in quick succession against your other cheek. "Why would you think that?" You sighed, trying not to pant through your words and give in to him as much as you wanted to. "This whole game has been rigged the whole time." You complained, your eyebrows shooting up when he pressed his knee against your clothed cunt, making you press try to press your legs together--an action that was stopped by his knee that was knocked into your own, keeping you spread. 

Nanami gripped your ass in his hand before leaning over you, massaging the fat of your backside as his weight crushed you, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. He rut his hips against your thigh, letting you know how much he was enjoying his win before he pressed a kiss right under your ear. You shut your eyes, a gasp falling from your lips as all complaints left your brain, the only thing you could think of being the weight and scent of him as he consumed you entirely. 

"You like it when I chase you, but you like it when I catch you even more." He whispered against your ear, his voice making you clench around nothing. "You're so cocky." You breathed, making him breathe out a laugh before he placed a kiss on your neck, the top of your spine, your shoulder blade. You held your breath when his hand that gripped your flesh slid between your legs, your body welcoming him as you spread your legs wider for him.

You couldn't stop the gasp that fell from between your lips when he pushed aside your panties like they were never there and rubbed his fingers through your wetness before dragging them across your clit. "And you're soaked, sweetheart," Nanami replied, showing you just how right he was about how much you loved being caught by him. But you didn't need him to tell you that, you already knew. 

Nanami leaned back from crushing you with his body at the same time he slid his fingers back down to your entrance and pushed two thick fingers inside you like it was nothing—and it might've well been, his fingers getting swallowed up by your wet cunt with ease. The groan that left your lips made his cock twitch in response, the feeling of his hard length against the back of your thigh driving you crazy. 

He released your arms from being caged behind your back, which you immediately used to grab the edge of the desk to steady yourself. Just when you were about to beg him for more, he slapped you again, harder this time, your ass stinging at the impact while your pussy tightened around his fingers like a vice. Nanami echoed your moan with a groan of his own as he began thrusting his fingers in and out of you, the wet squelching of your cunt echoing throughout his office.

"I can feel how much you like it." Nanami groaned, his voice deeper and more assertive with his arousal prominent. "Fuck," You whined, wiggling your hips back to meet his thrusts." Smack, another slap making you whine, a fuzziness starting to build in your mind as he fucked you harder on his fingers. "Tell me how much you like it, honey." Nanami moaned, though it sounded more like a beg as he rubbed his hips harder against your ass, trying to relieve himself on you. 

"Kento," You whined, thrusting your hips back against him harder. A clinking of a belt and a zipper following the sound told you Nanami was ridding himself of his own pants. Another slap against your sore ass was all the motivation you needed to answer him, nodding against the desk. "I love it Ken, I love it, it feels so good." You whined, your clit throbbing at the lack of attention as you wiggled back, hoping he would relieve you soon. 

You cried out when he pulled his fingers out of you abruptly, "Shhh, don't cry-" His words ended as he slammed himself inside you in one thrust, the stretch and slight burn of the sheer size of him making your eyes roll back in your head as he started up a brutal pace inside you, giving you little time to adjust before his hand dropped to your clit just as you wanted while his other massaged your soon to be bruised ass. 

Without his knee between yours anymore, you were able to squeeze your thighs together around his hand as your orgasm wracked through your body, making you scream as he pounded it out of you, his cock hitting just the right spot inside your soft walls and prolonging your high as his expert fingers matched pace with his thrusts on your clit. "K-kento-" You whined, one of your hands wrapping around his wrist that kept rubbing your oversensitized clit, the pleasure of it bordering on pain. 

"I know, I know, honey." Nanami cooed, his voice soft but his actions a stark contrast as he slapped your ass twice, once on each cheek, never once faltering his rough thrusts inside you, "You have to let go, sweetheart. Let go of my hand." He instructed, making you shake your head back and forth violently, only resulting in his fingers rubbing faster back and forth along your clit, it was almost too much.

"T-too much, Kento- f-fuck-" You cried, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you tried to lean forward to escape the pleasure, but he just followed you with his thrusts, knocking hard into your g-spot each time he slammed inside you. "No, it's not, Iknow what you can take." He replied dismissively, massaging your ass in a circle. The two of you had a safeword that had been long established and never used, and you weren't thinking about using it now, so maybe he was right, maybe he did know how much you could take.

You simply whined in response, feeling another orgasm quickly creeping over you, no escape from it in sight. "Let go of my hand, sweetheart, I won't ask again," Nanami said through a groan, his hand briefly coming up to cradle your cheek in a sweet gesture before he slid it back down your body and slapped the back of your thigh. The niceness of his words and the roughness of his actions made it hard to combine them into one person, you almost wanted to curse him out for sounding so unaffected but you knew he wasn't fairing much better than you.

The small sounds of him grunting and cursing under his breath told you exactly how he was doing. Kento's thrusts started losing their rhythm as he lost himself inside you. Begrudgingly, you let go of his hand, your own shaking as you placed it back on the edge of the dest, your knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping it. "Good girl, I have you, I-I'll take care of you." The sound of Nanami's words getting choked off by a groan made your clit throb under his fingers. It was a fucking headrush knowing how much this man lost himself to you. 

"Please-" You begged, unsure of what you were asking for but knowing you weren't going to last much longer. "Let it out, I'm right behind you." Nanami nodded, leaning over your body and wrapping an arm under your stomach, pulling your back tightly to his chest as he humped his cock in and out of you, the stretch and loss of him with each thrust making you go a little dumb in the head each time. 

"Cum-" You weren't even able to finish your sentence as you came with a cry at the same time Nanami placed his lips on your cheek and kissed softly, trailing those kisses over your shoulder and neck as his fingers and cock worked in perfect harmony to draw your orgasm out of you. "Coming, I'm coming- oh my god-" Kento groaned through his teeth, his hair tickling your face as he buried his head in your neck and ground his hips flush against yours. 

The circular movement of Kento's hips against your ass made your legs shake with sensitivity as his fat tip rubbed against your g-spot as he emptied his balls inside you. A warmth filled you from the inside out with each kick of his cock as he came, rope after rope of his seed filling you just like he did every time he fucked you. A loud, low, continuous groan left his throat as his balls throbbed with his release, his fingers finally ceasing their rubbing against your clit as he went still, basking in his orgasm while keeping himself inside you. 

You reached a shaky, weak amr behind you and grabbed the back of his neck, gently scraping your nails up along his neck and trimmed undercut of his hair. Nanami hummed in satisfaction before he lifted his head and found your lips with ease, kissing you gently and lovingly, like the two of you had all the time in the world and nothing would ever separate the two of you. 

He pulled away and looked at you, a content expression on his face. He leaned in to press one more kiss against your eyelid before he pulled back entirely, smoothing his hands down your sides as he pulled out of you, making the both of you moan at the missing contact of the other. You already wanted to whine about how empty you felt, but you knew you could have him whenever you wanted so that feeling didn't last long.

"My ass hurts." You complained, breaking the silence as you were now finally able to feel the full extent of his actions without a clouded mind. Kento laughed as he pulled your panties back in their rightful place, keeping his cum stuffed inside you as he patted his fingers over your cunt before dropping down and sliding your shorts up your legs. "I'm sorry, my love. I'll take responsibility." He said, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

"You gonna massage my ass all night?" You asked, pushing your body up and leaning against the back of the desk, not yet ready to fully rely on your shaky legs yet. "Of course, I was the one who bruised it after all." Kento nodded as he buckled his belt back into place before stalking forward and caging you in with his body. You wrapped your arms around his neck like you've done a thousand times and let him lean in to kiss your neck, his hands wrapping around your waist to help you stand.

"Good." You said, relishing in his kisses before speaking up again, grabbing ahold of his face and pulling him back so you could look at him properly before you asked your question. "Was the game really rigged this whole time or were you just saying all that to be sexy?" Nanami smiled at that, his own hands grabbing your cheeks as he placed a kiss to the top of your head, to lessen the blow of his inevitable answer you knew was coming. " You know it is, I will always catch you." 

[2tarbell]

US — KOOK!READER

rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

(drabble. © 2tarbell 2024)

if anyone asked you, you’d say you never got jealous. what was the point? a seemingly endless waste of energy and your valuable attention — people would get on their knees in seconds for a chance to talk to you. a kook princess never got jealous.

which is why the stinging question of ‘why?’ bounced around your head as you watched rafe walk back over to the bar, a pretty head of dark hair awaiting him with an infuriatingly easy going smile.

sofia.

you only learned her name after she introduced herself with a little grin. something about the pogue was effortless and it was currently eating away at any confidence you might’ve had when you walked in.

your makeup felt heavy and your miniskirt too short, too tight — did you look trashy? like you were trying too hard? she was sweet; that girl next door energy you know you’d never have. no matter how much you cried and pleaded.

a bump to your shoulder interrupted your brooding, pretty glossed lips stuck together in a pout, mimicking the furrow of your brow. topper gave you a knowing look and a scowl met him. he chuckled dryly.

“earth to princess, hellooo?”

you rolled your eyes, directing your attention to your empty cocktail glass. the ice looked back at you mockingly — you’re the one who asked rafe to go get you another drink. stupid, stupid, stupid.

“go to hell, top.” the quip made your other best friend laugh, kelce reaching across the table to steal a fry from your untouched plate. how could you eat in a moment like this?

“what’s the problem? you’re literally pouting.” the boy mumbled.

the way kelce spoke through a mouthful of fried potato made you wince. a napkin is thrown in his direction, landing on the table lamely. boys are so messy, and nosey.

you huff dramatically, “ugh, it’s nothing. god, i miss when men went off to war and, like, died or something—“

your annoyed spiel is cut off by a drink being placed in front of you, the lime already squeezed in and floating amongst the cubes of ice. just how you like it. a warm hand rests on the nape of your neck as the chair beside you squeaks against the floor. that voice you know so well rumbling close to you.

“who’s dying?” rafe mumbles as he gets comfortable in the plush chair again, arm stretching behind your shoulders. the gesture is so casual and it makes your stomach twist.

his eyes are piercing when you look over at him — a smirk raises his lips and you fight the urge to slap him then kiss it off his stupid face.

“you — if you were gonna take any longer.”

the eye roll you receive is nothing out of the ordinary — rafe was used to your bitchy tendencies. but watching him chat with the bartender made a seed of doubt burrow into your mind. sofia probably wasn’t such a cunt. maybe that’s why he likes her.

“yeah, well, someone wanted a lime and they were out. sorta hadta wait for your shit, dollface…” rafe explained like it was second nature.

your passive aggressiveness never seemed to phased him, he always put up with it, with you. the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. it was masked with a glare.

you flipped your hair over your shoulder and crossed a leg over the other, stomach churning while you poked at the cocktail with the thin black straw. the conversation between the boys picked back up — blah blah, golf, topper whining about sarah, blah blah.

it was like the cameron boy sensed your disinterest. his arm on the back of your chair shifted, blunt nails now tracing up and down your spine. the contact made your back straighten before leaning into his touch.

it was pacifying for a while. his side profile caught your attention, nose sharp and sexy, cheekbones crafted expertly. he was so handsome it was unfair... she probably thought so, too.

god, why couldn’t you stop thinking about that pogue girl? was he charming and funny to her? maybe he played hard to get and dismissive. maybe her number was sitting in his pocket, scribbled on a napkin in perfect curls — fucking ew.

suddenly you became irritated. the thought of your best friend, your rafe thinking he could flirt with someone like her then slink back over to you. yeah, right. you weren’t that easy. you rolled your shoulders, shrugging off his touch. he shot you a look but didn’t say anything, just adjusted in his chair.

you were listening to the conversation even less now, anger and something you didn’t want to name boiling in your chest. stiff as a board, you picked at your food. only humming in acknowledgment when something concerned you. it was obvious something was the matter and your friends shared curious looks with each other but never asked you outright.

a warm palm tried to squeeze your thigh but you pushed his hand off. rafe clenched his jaw at your dismissal, feeling that familiar need for dominance over you and whatever fuckin’ attitude you decided to have today. with topper and kelce in a heated debate over something probably stupid, rafe leaned in — his breath was hot against your ear as he spoke in a low warning tone.

“don’t know what your fuckin’ deal is — but it ends now, yeah? eat.”

the glare you sent up through your lashes only stoked the fires of his annoyance. there’s a momentary stare off, eyes communicating thousands of thoughts and unspeakable feelings.

with a scoff you look away, feeling a lump form in your throat. no, this isn’t happening. you stand abruptly and rifle through your purse for a hundred before you throw it on the table, storming off with heels clicking.

the sound echoes in rafe’s head as he snatches the bill up, placing his card down on the table. he quickly follows after you, ignoring the way sofia’s eyes light up when he heads her direction.

“hi, rafe, i was just…” her words fizzle out in her tongue as she watches him pass her, marching after the pretty girl in a yellow top.

the small family bathroom offered a reprieve from the stifling nature of rafe’s presence and your own mind. looking in the mirror — you hardly recognized yourself. you shoved your purse onto the counter, feeling like your composure was completely lost.

eyes wide and teary, lips still glittery but trembling. this was only a version of you he could bring out. now, you found yourself wishing for the comforting weight of his words and gaze and — no, be strong. get it together.

the silence was broken by the door being pushed open with immense force. your head dropped, not trusting yourself to form a witty stab of words. within seconds he was turning you, body hard and pressing your back into the counter, reaching behind you and shoving the hundred dollar bill back into your purse. a wince left you when he gripped your jaw tightly with a hold unforgiving and questioning.

“fuck was that, huh? you— you were doin’ so well, dollface, and now—”

the words halted when he saw a shiny tear streak down your face. the way his eyes softened only pushed you further into despair. his hand moved, now cupping your face and running a thumb along your cheekbone. the wet pearl caught on his skin but once they started, they just kept coming.

soon you were in his arms, hiccuping and holding on for dear life. rafe rocked you with a tight hold — voice soothing despite the look of confusion on his face. he’d never seen you this upset before, this broken.

“hey, hey, woah — what’s’a matter? what happened?” he cooed.

his large palm smoothed over your hair as you pressed your makeup running cheeks to his chest. hugging rafe always made everything better, but now you can’t stop thinking about him holding her like this.

he spoke your name firmly, pulling your head back to look deep into your wet eyes. his stare was intense, worried and seeking answers.

“use your words f’me,” he pushed your hair back off your forehead as he mumbled. and if you were in your right mind, you would’ve shrieked about him ruining your hair.

“jus’— d’you like her?” you blubbered.

rafe was more than confused, his eyebrows drawn together tightly. he crouched down a little, trying to hear your meek voice better.

frustrated and distraught, you pushed him back weakly. a few more inches were put between you two — only a few seconds until he crowded you again, trying to soothe you.

“sofia, rafe! do you like her?”

your yelling had him stepping even closer. shaking his head quickly, confused and slightly irritated, rafe cupped your cheeks in his palms.

“okay, okay— i heard you. don’t scream. i don’t— i don’t even fuckin’ know her. stop, stay still—“

you were squirming, trying to get far from him. far from this and the horrible ache in your chest at just the thought him maybe, possibly—

“stop, i’m talking now. ‘m not— i don’t like sofia, okay? i don’t, y’hear me?” his voice was authoritative, freezing you in place. those blue eyes pleaded with yours for understanding, for trust.

despite the tension between you, his heart skips a beat as your gaze meets his. he sees the sparkle in your eyes, that fire mixed with a hint of softness that he’s so fond of. it gives him a glimmer of hope that maybe he can bridge this gap between you.

“c’mon. you know you’re my girl.”

you melt into him unconsciously, seeking that warmth his embrace always seemed to bring. you’re hugging each other tightly in the small bathroom. rafe stares at your figures in the mirror, watching as you nuzzle further into his arms. like you belong there.

with a sniffle, you tip your head back. feeling so small as you look up at his face. rafe leans down and presses a tender kiss to your mouth — moving slowly in a moment of raw vulnerability.

his voice is low, you feel the vibrations against your lips as he speaks softly, “i wouldn’t do that t’you… to us.”

he feels your body tense at his words, his hands squeeze your hips. with wide eyes you pull back from the kiss and gape at him. his touch is begging you to listen, to not freak out. the tears well anew as you let his words wash over you. us. he thinks there’s an us.

suddenly, it’s like you can breathe again. like all the nights feeling scared and confused without him seem worth it. all of it’s worth it to be in his arms like this, hearing him justify the feelings you’ve done everything to bury.

rafe cups your cheek in one hand, the other arm wrapping fully around your body. there’s something so tender and charged about the way he’s looking at you and wiping your crocodile tears away.

he’s begging you now, eyes flicking between yours, “you’re my girl, you know that. always gonna be us, a’ight?”

a light burns in your heart and you realize that you do know that. when has it ever been anything else? when has he not been by your side, dealing with your bullshit? rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

with a shaky exhale you nod, leaning into his palm. the sight of you so fragile tears at his heart and rafe draws you in closer. his nose finds home in your hairline and he peppers kisses along your forehead. us.

the revelation didn’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth, insecurity still pecking at your mind.

“she’s probably easier to deal with.”

“nah, i don’t wan’ easy.”

he pulls back, holding the back of your neck to angle your face towards him. there’s a hardness to his gaze — like the very idea of easy is repulsing him. then he’s smirking and leaning in.

rafe presses a firm kiss to your mouth, tongue parting your lips and swallowing the hiccup of pleasure that slipped out. his leg wedges its way between yours, knee pressed snugly underneath your miniskirt. he’s devouring you completely unforgivingly. without thought, you roll your hips against his knee. the tension in your body melts away as the friction of his jeans meets your covered clit.

“mmf, rafe—”

“i don’t want easy,” his words accented by harsher presses of his leg upward, causing you to choke on air, “i want you. whiny and bratty and beautiful you. got it?”

nodding your head fervently, he smushes his lips against yours. lifting you onto the small counter and shoving a hand up your skirt, his hardness pressing thick and pulsing against your thigh. the kiss so messy and clothes haphazardly being pulled to the side. the spark of finally being seen, finally being acknowledged as his, fuels the moment.

the sex is slow and steady, a promise of commitment and dedication to this messy relationship. to each other. tears of pleasure and happiness collect on your lash line, pretty face scrunched in ecstasy only rafe could provide.

(and topper and kelce took his card and ordered five beers each.)

[elizzsush]

Beastmen Courting Rituals | TWST

Savanaclaw Dorm X Reader

Leona X Reader, Ruggie X Reader, Jack X Reader,

---- BeastFolk typically have instinctual ways they begin 'courting' or a relationship, some even taught from a young age certain courting rituals. (Non-Human courting rituals part 1/3)

Note: Fun fact, I began making Fae courting first but then I posted the future kid thing and didn't want to post two Diasomnia so close together!

Octavinelle Ver | Diasomnia Ver.

Jack:

It started very small, one day he was there, the next he was there again, and the next he was also there.

He was always there.

Then it got a bit... weird? You noticed that when he would approach you, he was making this grumbling, whining sounds? You don't even think he realized it. You chose to ignore this fact for now, maybe it was just because he was a beast man? You didn't want to be rude by saying anything- or make him feel embarrassed.

After that he began to help you with your hair more as well. Well, your general appearance. He'd help you fix your uniform and brush off any dust or anything you'd may want or need help with. In turn you helped him back, it was only fair after all!

Never mind his flushed face while you did this, moving small hairs back in place and picking any particles off his own uniform.

"There's our dynamic pair! beauty and the beast man." Ace teased, a confident grin on his face while you sat down at the table, Jack not too far behind you.

Jack just rolled his eyes, a small blush on his face as he ignored Ace. Aka, while he did the smart thing to do. You, however, have yet to learn that Despite so many months of friendship and raised an eyebrow at the Card boy. "What are you talking about." You rolled your eyes at the boy.

"You don't know? but it's so obvious!" Ace frowned, Grim nodding beside him in agreement, though you doubted he even knew what the boy was talking about. "His tail is always wagging like a fan when he's talking to ya! He's totally in l-" just as Ace was about to finish speaking Jack piped up, his ears straight on his head in an alert manner and his tail stiff behind him.

"I didn't get anything to drink when we got food." He excused himself, you tried to get a look at his face because he wasn't looking at you but he didn't look back and stood up.

Glancing at his tray, you didn't fail to notice the milk carton on it. Plush, Jack was always the prepared, diligent one. That was so odd... You glanced back at Ace only to find him laughing to himself like the funniest thing just happened. "Whatever, where is Deuce?" You rolled your eyes.

"Why should I know? I'm not his mom."

After that, Ace started calling you dense. Maybe you were because you really didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

After that it was like there was a switch in Jack. He began to be touchier, not that you minded of course! Cuddling with friends is always nice, and you liked to think it was because of his more... animalistic features and instincts he was cuddlier.

But somehow it felt more intimate. He'd nuzzle his face into your neck and hang off of you like he was a coat instead of a large man who was... well jacked.

You'd often wrestle him off of you because he had gotten into the habit of, as you said before, hanging off of you! He'd whine and almost instinctually wrestle you back to stay into his place.

You may not be as strong as him, but you also didn't hate the way he'd run with you at P.E. You knew he could easily run laps around everyone, but instead he stuck with you. Smiling at you exhausted look and cheering you on. "I'm sure Coach Vargas wouldn't mind us taking a break?" He laughs a bit awkwardly after you glared at him for suggesting it when he barely even broke a sweat.

It wasn't till after Leona off Handly mentioned something about you smelling like Jack. Even wrinkling his nose and saying that he "didn't have to lay it on that thick." That you started to think, maybe, just maybe, something else was going on here.

So, you went to the library. Got yourself your very own book (that you had to return in two weeks) on Beastfolk Mating rituals.

Suddenly, it made sense why Ace thought you were dense. Apparently, this was commonish knowledge in this world! And maybe you were ignoring pretty obvious signs now that you thought about it.

So, one afternoon when Jack was hanging off of you, that look in his eyes you hadn't noticed till now. You bit his hand. His ears straightened in surprise and he looked at you for a moment. A thick blush on his face.

"Am I dense or are you courting me?" You finally asked now that you had his attention.

"I have been for a while now..." He sheepishly admitted while not looking you in the eye.

____________

Ruggie:

He avoided you like the plague, at first.

Even now, sometimes when he's approaching you, you noticed that he might backtrack and hesitate.

Now he is a lot more relaxed, often hanging off of your shoulder. Now that he knows you won't bite his head off. His tail would wag behind him slightly while he interacted with you. A stark contrast to the stiff, alert eared boy he was just a little while ago!

You will say though, it did take some of your lunches to get here. You'd equate this process to that of getting a scared cat to approach you with treats. Now, you didn't even need the treats to get him around! He'd approach you first now too. Still with hesitance, but once he did come up to you he did seem to enjoy himself.

"He loved hanging off of you and cuddling up to you. He was very handsy, (Like most beast men, you'd later learned) His face often nuzzled into the nook of your neck. "He loved hanging off of you and cuddling up to you. He was very handsy, (Like most beast men, you'd later learned) His face often nuzzled into the nook of your neck.

"It's so weird to see a Ruggie-Senpai hang out with you so much." Deuce said off handedly one afternoon. You two were studying together when he thought of this.

"What do you mean?" You couldn't help but ask the card solider. Putting your pen down as you looked at him curiously.

The boy just shrugged, a odd look on his face. "I don't know, I just thought Hyena beast men were more... You know." he added a bit awkwardly. You decided to drop it there.

"Yeah... Anyway, I think I remember-"

The interaction stood out in your head, however. What exactly did Deuce even mean? After that interaction, you noticed a couple things as well. Beast students would look at you and nodded at you in recognition? Leona's nose would scrunch up a bit when you spoke to him (though he never made any comments on it), and when you walked into Savanaclaw a beast guy once mistook you for Ruggie before he looked at you?

What did any of that even mean?! When you asked Jack, he just said you smelt like Ruggie.

That small interaction you had with Deuce quickly began to send you down a hill of thinking about everything Ruggie ever did! How he hung off of you, and how you two hung out. It got even weirder when Ruggie offered you some food. Like he had been for a while.

This was very out of character for the Hyena boy! How did you not realize it before? So, you asked him about it. "How come you always offer me something when we eat together?"

He blushed a bit looking at you with wide eyes for a moment before shaking his head, "I do that don't I?" he laughed awkwardly, "I mean I bring food home for the neighborhood kids too. We all got to eat; you know?" He shrugged it off. You wondered what that meant, because he didn't do it with anyone else, but you failed to push him on the subject.

Your sad to say, you never fully realized what was happening till someone explained it to you.

He knocked on Ramshackle door with a handful of pretty dandelions and asked you on a date. "Perfect, would you like to um... go out with me?" he asked hesitantly, a nervous smile on his face while he put his head down. Like he was trying to protect his neck...

You said yes and it was after that Leona explained how annoying it was watching you two and basically inadvertently explained everything to you...

"That would have been helpful to know sooner." You grumbled to yourself after talking with the lion.

"Eh? Ignore him shyhehe!~ Ruggie just snickered with his usual sly smile.

____________

Leona:

Leona didn't really have time for games. If he liked, you he'd just come out and say it. At least, that's what you had first thought. Yes, he did use your lap as a pillow and you two did cuddle somewhat regularly. That didn't exactly mean anything. Right?

And yeah, Ruggie did scrunch his nose up and complain that you smelt too much like Leona, but that didn't matter. Leona probably didn't mean to do that; he was probably sleeping.

Did Leona roar at you? Yeah, so what? It was like a yawn; it just came out. No, he wasn't blushing! He couldn't be because you were already looking away in embarrassment.

Leona just didn't like you like that. No matter how many Courting book you read on beast men!

The Lion man in question invited you out to a Spelldrive tournament he had been practicing for. Obviously, you went without a second thought. It would be nice to see the lazy lion not lazing around for once! At least that's how you justified it.

You definitely didn't want to just see your crush play a match.

You couldn't help but notice the whole time, how Leona kept looking at you in your seat. Making sure you had just seen him perform. You'd smile and cheer for him and maybe, just maybe, a sense of pride would build up in his chest.

And maybe it was really nice to hear you cheer, and see you jump up from your seat in excitement. And maybe it was really nice to be able to cheer for him.

So you planned to confess to him after this game. "Leona I really liked you! I have for a while now!" And you did.

"Finally." He yawned and rubbed the back of his neck, you two then went to cuddle in the garden.

Did that mean you two were together now...?

____________

A/N: I know that some dorms aren't like nonhuman, but I can imagine that like Riddle was taught like courting customs in The Queendom of Roses, (Some queen of heart rule) or like the scalding sands have some costumes? Like the world changes because of beastmen/Fae customs and people adapted to that and added it to their own ways of approaching a relationship? Idk lol

Sorry Leona's part was quite short, I was getting tired and just wanted to get this out! But thank you for reading!

[fear-is-truth]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑

— charlie mayhew x nun!reader. | mdni

tags: mature content 18+・blasphemy・fem!reader・unprotected p in v・not proofread

a/n: i’m sorry

FATHER CHARLIE MAYHEW sits back in a wooden chair, dark eyes following you closely, but not with the sanctity expected from a priest. he’s holding a bible in his hand, fingers idly brushing the worn edges, but the words that come out of his mouth have strayed far from the expected teachings.

“celibacy,” he declares, “is a widely misunderstood concept. it’s not about abstaining, but about control. mastery of the flesh, not rejection of it.”

you’re sitting across from him, hands folded neatly in your lap as you tried to maintain a composed front. you don’t bother to mask the skepticism in your tone. “is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night, father? that indulging a little bit isn’t breaking your vows?”

the soft mockery didn’t deter him. if anything, it fueled him. his expression does not falter; in fact, he smiles wider. “ah, but sister. did christ not spend forty days in the wilderness, surrounded by temptation, and come out stronger? his words are laced with arrogance, each one delivered as if it were irrefutable truth. the towel around his waist slips just a little, revealing more skin, but he makes no effort to adjust it. his gaze never leaves yours, and the audacity of it all strikes you.

“is it not written that to know sin, one must overcome it?

under current circumstances, charlie mayhew is a man of contradictions—utterly confident despite his obviously flawed reasoning. it’s impossible to tell if he truly believed what he was saying or if he simply liked bending the truth for his own purposes.

“so what you’re telling me,” your voice carried a soft lilt, lips curling as you meet his gaze, “is that celibacy is… negotiable now? sounds a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

slowly, you rise to your feet, deliberately turning away before bending down. the slit in your black habit parts slightly, revealing fishnet stockings, the round curve of your ass visible through the thin fabric.

“indulgence is sin when it lacks discipline,” he replies without skipping a beat, but there’s a new, raspy quality in his voice now.

“but when it’s controlled—when you allow yourself to feel something and rise above it—that’s where true strength lies. that’s power. that’s faith.” he’s idly stroking himself, slow pumps of his hand around the throbbing length. taking your own sweet time, you made a show of adjusting the strap on your high heels and allowing him to see the red lacy thong underneath as the slit falls open a bit more.

“besides,” he continues, “what’s the harm in understanding sin—up close? is it not our duty to learn the limits of our restraint, to test our strength?”

not answering, you simply sashay toward the priest, heels clicking softly against the floor, until you stop directly in front of him. his eyes follow your every movement as you free yourself of your garments, though the smirk on his lips never falters. you reach down and tilt his chin up with one finger,

“for someone who preaches so much about temptation,” you purr, “you sure don’t seem eager to resist it.”

he raises a brow, but before he can respond, you swing a leg over his lap, straddling him with deliberate slowness. your hand slides down his chest, fingertips brushing against smooth skin. his breath catches as one of your hands grazes over his toned abs, while the other squeezes his face with a teasing pressure.

“tell me, father.”

leaning in, you press your lips to his. when he doesn’t pull away, you deepen the kiss, gently pulling his lower lip between your teeth. his breath shudders as you release him, eyes scorching with lust.

“is this what you had in mind when you swore to be devout?”

a stretched groan escapes his lips when you guided the tip of his shaft between your slick folds. carefully, you sink down onto him, relishing in the tight, hot stretch—inch by glorious inch. your eyelids momentarily flutter shut as you were fully impaled on his cock, and just when you thought he’s about to kiss you again, charlie dips his head down. you gasped when you feel his tongue tracing slow circles around the areola before finally wrapping his lips around your nipple.

“ooh,” you manage to breathe out, and you immediately feel him smile against your breast. charlie starts to thrust up into you, his girth stretching you out to the extent that you can practically feel every ridge and bump of the veins that scattered along his length dragging against your walls. ripples of pleasure course through your body, the cross pendant you wore around your neck bouncing between your breasts with the motion.

the small room is soon filled with the slapping sounds of skin on skin, coupled with the wet suction of your pussy swallowing his cock, occasionally punctuated by your whimpers and his moans.

it doesn’t take long for the hot coil inside of you to snap. a powerful orgasm tears through your body, inner walls convulsing around him. within seconds, his seed is spurting into your womb, triggering aftershocks that left you trembling like a leaf in high wind.

charlie’s head falls back to rest against the wall behind him, as his cock continued to twitch deep inside you, residual spasms in sync with the weak fluttering of your pussy around him. your body is still tingling, a pleasant, dizzy warmth spreading through you.

“jesus…” you mumble, the words slipping out before you can stop them. he chuckles dryly, the sound rumbling through his chest as his hand lazily trails up your back.

“no, sister.” he murmurs, toying with a strand of your hair, gently tugging.

“it’s ‘father charlie’ to you.”

masterlist

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[inkskinned]

i was raised by a catholic deacon so as a kid - maybe ages 7 to 14 - i would have told you that abortion was only okay in exception cases like rape. i didn't even really understand any of the terms at play here, only how to parrot that there were "few and far between" exceptions, but abortion-as-a-whole was irresponsible and evil. i believed it was a bad form of birth control.

for context's sake - i still had a flip phone. google wasn't really a thing back then. the whole narrative was akin to the apostle's creed: i don't know that i ever thought about what the words meant, only that this was what i was supposed to say when asked. i remember being in 4th grade and having it down pat - abortion is evil, except in cases such as rape. my father wasn't insensitive, after all - he acknowledged there might be medical necessity to end a life.

what changed was that at 14 i learned how hard it is to prove that a rape has happened.

it was a boy, actually. and his piano teacher. and him telling me, crying, that nobody believed him that he didn't want it. and what if she gets pregnant?

this is the mark in a lot of our lives: at some point, someone will confide in you, and then you see exactly how often it happens. how it happens so fucking loudly, and nobody says anything. how often your friends, nervous, will shakily admit that while they love their partner, there are a few times that they didn't really consent, that they didn't really want it. for others, there are nights half-remembered in bars. for others, they married their partner at 15, so now it's "fine", legally. for others, there are yes moments that felt like a no. there were no moments that were never acknowledged. you say no but are told you actually said yes because of what you were wearing or because he is good at swimming and his life would be ruined or because he's a nice guy or -

in the last 8 years, my father has become radicalized. he now believes in "no exceptions".

but the truth is that there was never going to be a true "exception" clause. there was never going to be a grey area. i am not even really sure they believe in the concept of rape. and if they did - how would you ever prove it? in the six weeks you have to state your case - when it takes years in a court of law - the "rape exception" would simply evaporate under the continued pregnancy. you were never going to have a moment where you could privately tell a doctor - it's because of a rape. there was no box you could check. there was no form you could file. it was always going to be assumed consensual until proven malignant. it was always going to be your fault.

they also knew they couldn't actually sell the rest of us on this idea of it's always blessed. they knew in their hearts that every pregnancy should be wanted. they knew going in that plenty of us - even raised catholic, even having had this shoved down our throats - plenty of us still had too many questions about what ifs.

it's just they just didn't want to come off as monsters. they patted our heads and taught us they weren't insensitive. they just had these beliefs. and then they put their hands on our bodies. and said if you don't listen, i'm going to force them.

[theonottsbxtch]

EL COQUETO | FC43

an: welcome back as we write about my n.1 pookie, i've got some more works planned for him BUT i've just gotten to france so imma be very busy rip, based off of this request

summary: when franco catches feelings for a journalist who is persuaded he doesn't really want her.

wc: 7.6k

The paddock was alive with energy, buzzing with the hum of engines and the chatter of the press as they swarmed around the new driver. She watched him move through the crowd with ease, a slight swagger in his step and a dazzling smile that had already made him the focus of every camera. He was the story of the weekend: Franco Colapinto, the unexpected mid-season replacement, here to shake up the grid with his flashy driving style—and, evidently, his unapologetic charm.

He caught sight of her, raised an eyebrow in recognition, and made a beeline toward her with the confidence of someone who knew he’d be welcome, even if he hadn’t been invited.

“Hola,” he greeted, his voice carrying a thick, rolling Spanish accent that seemed to coat every word in warmth. “You must be my next question of the day. They warned me about the best journalist here—of course, I was told to behave.”

She gave him a practised smile, cool but polite. “Franco, welcome to the team. How are you feeling about joining mid-season?”

His eyes sparkled, unfazed by the businesslike tone. “How am I feeling?” He leaned in just slightly, as though sharing a secret. “Well, right now, very lucky. They said I’d get tough questions, but they didn’t say the interviewer would be… distracting.”

She fought the urge to look away, just barely managing to keep her composure. “So you feel ready for the pressure, then?” she asked, refocusing, though the tiniest hint of a blush warmed her cheeks.

“For the track? Yes, I am prepared to race anyone.” He paused, letting his gaze linger on her a beat too long. “For the interviews? That remains to be seen. Perhaps you can teach me how to handle that part, sí?”

She could sense her colleagues nearby, some watching with open amusement as they caught his flirtatious energy. Franco was as smooth as they came, that much was certain. But she wouldn’t be the one to crack first.

“I’m sure you’ll learn quickly,” she said, tilting her head, her voice steady, though her heart raced. “Now, back to the race. What are your goals for this weekend?”

His grin broadened, but he played along. “Goals for the weekend,” he echoed thoughtfully, shifting back into the question. “Win a few hearts, break a few records—no particular order.” He winked, and she felt a laugh bubble up before she stifled it, opting instead for a brisk nod.

“Right. Well, I hope you’re ready for the competition,” she managed.

He shrugged, eyes glinting with mischief. “With you here, qué competencia?”

She gave him a pointed look, resisting the smile tugging at her lips. “You know, charm doesn’t score you points on the track.”

“Ah, no?” He tilted his head, feigning surprise. “Then I suppose I’ll have to win the hard way.”

Just then, a flash of cameras went off around them, the media eating up every angle of Franco’s arrival. He seemed entirely unfazed, even performing slightly for the flashes. The crowd around them surged with questions about his plans, about what his first practice would look like, about his last season in Formula 2. But Franco’s attention was still locked on her, and he hadn’t missed a beat.

“So,” he said, with that soft smile of his, “do you think I’ll be able to charm Formula One, or will they be immune to my Argentian ways?”

She gave him a dry smile. “You might have your work cut out for you. It’s not a stroll through Argentina, after all.”

He laughed at that, clearly enjoying her wit. “You’re tough,” he said, a touch of admiration sneaking into his voice. “I can see why you’re the best.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Flattery won’t distract me from the questions, Franco.”

“No? Not even if I try very, very hard?” he asked, drawing out the words with a grin. It was ridiculous, really—the way he leaned into every word, the way he seemed to shine in the spotlight. But there was something endearing about it too, something that felt… unexpectedly genuine.

“Not even then,” she replied, her tone light but steady. “Let’s talk strategy. What’s your focus for your first race?”

He sighed, shifting slightly but keeping that glint in his eye. “Fine, I’ll behave,” he said with a sigh, straightening up to answer. “My focus is simple: get the car under me, push it to its limits, and aim for a strong finish. Maybe even a few surprise overtakes. I’ve been itching to get back on the track.”

It was the most serious answer he’d given yet, and she noted the shift in his voice—a hint of intensity breaking through the smooth, easy charm.

“And your teammate?” she pressed, sensing she’d found the thread to pull him out of his flirtatious veneer. “Are you prepared for the rivalry?”

Franco’s expression turned thoughtful for a moment, a flicker of something sharper in his eyes. “My teammate…” He paused, glancing away briefly before meeting her gaze again. “He’s William’s best. I’ll learn from him, give him the respect he deserves. But I didn’t come here to play second.”

She watched as someone next to her scribbled down his answer, though her mind wandered slightly, wondering at the complexity beneath his charm.

“Good to hear,” she said, offering a small nod. “We’ll all be watching to see if you live up to that confidence.”

“I live up to my promises,” he replied smoothly. Then he leaned in one last time, lowering his voice just for her. “One of them being to get at least one smile from you by the end of the weekend. I’ll start with that goal.”

Before she could reply, he gave a casual wave to the crowd, moving on to the next journalist as though he hadn’t just made her heart skip a beat with his easy, disarming confidence. She watched him go, flustered despite herself.

One thing was certain: Franco Colapinto was going to be a story.

When the time came, the race had barely begun, but her eyes were already glued to the screen, following the sleek white-and-blue car with Franco’s number emblazoned on the front. Despite her best efforts to stay neutral, to approach this like any other weekend, there was something magnetic about watching him. Franco Colapinto, the audacious rookie, who’d barely spent a week with the team and had taken to the grid without a single day of training in an F1 car.

From the start, it was clear he was playing it differently. He didn’t charge forward recklessly like other rookies might have, eager to prove themselves. Instead, Franco took a few cautious laps, feeling out the car, testing its responses. She noticed how his style evolved lap by lap, each one more aggressive, his moves sharper. He was adapting, learning the car right there in the thick of the race.

As the race progressed, he began to gain ground. Corner after corner, he squeezed every ounce of performance from his machine, edging closer to the pack with each lap. By mid-race, he was overtaking the backmarkers, slipping past seasoned drivers who had years on him, and the commentators were buzzing.

She caught herself smiling, feeling a strange, almost foolish pride as she watched. The memory of his easy, arrogant grin flashed in her mind, his voice low and teasing: “Do you think I’ll charm Formula One?” She’d laughed it off, but he had something special, didn’t he? That hunger for the track, the sheer nerve to go head-to-head with anyone in his way.

Then, as if her thoughts had summoned trouble, the camera cut to his car—a close-up on his visor as he fought for P12. Her heart caught as he made a daring move, threading his car through a razor-thin gap into the next turn. It was reckless, and yet somehow—somehow—he made it stick.

“P12!” The radio crackled through his team radio, their voice as surprised as she felt. For a rookie with zero F1 experience, it was practically a victory.

She exhaled, releasing a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. The chequered flag fell, and Franco’s car slowed down, his voice breaking through the team radio with a triumphant laugh, half-sighing, half-cheering in disbelief at his own result.

When she saw him back in the paddock, she managed to slip past the swarm of journalists waiting to pounce, positioning herself where he’d inevitably cross her path. She didn’t want to admit how much she wanted to hear his version of the race firsthand, to see if the adrenaline still sparkled in his eyes the way it had behind the visor.

When he finally caught sight of her, his face lit up. “Ah, my toughest questioner returns,” he said, the grin wide as he raked a hand through his hair, still tousled from the helmet. “So? Impressed?”

She raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her expression composed. “Not bad for a first race,” she said, voice calm but betraying the slightest hint of a smile. “Though I have to say, you took some pretty risky moves out there.”

Franco laughed, that low, familiar chuckle that could disarm anyone. “You sound like my engineer. But I had to make it interesting, didn’t I?” His gaze softened slightly, the playfulness ebbing for a moment. “I did better than you expected, maybe?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, leaning in just a bit. “I wouldn’t let it go to your head, though.”

He feigned a wince. “Ah, so I’ll have to work harder to impress you, then.”

With that, she couldn’t hold back the smile any longer. “Perhaps,” she said, voice softer. “But you’ve made a start.”

She followed the rest of the press corps into the media pen, her notebook in hand, watching as Franco slipped into his role with practised ease. The other drivers, still catching their breath, answered questions in measured tones, clearly exhausted. But Franco was… well, Franco. He leaned back against the barrier, relaxed, a half-smile playing on his lips as he answered questions, some about his lack of training, others about his shockingly high finish.

She hung back at first, observing him as he effortlessly charmed each journalist in turn, flashing that disarming grin and making even the toughest questions seem like casual conversation. But when his eyes caught hers across the small crowd, he subtly waved her forward, his grin widening.

“Ah, finally,” he said, his tone playful as she approached. “I was starting to think you were hiding from me.” The other journalists shot her curious glances, some smirking at Franco’s obvious interest.

She managed to keep her expression neutral, clearing her throat and lifting her voice to a professional tone. “Franco, congratulations on P12. Quite a debut.”

“Gracias, cariño,” he replied, eyes sparkling. “For a moment, I thought you didn’t think I could do it.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly take the most traditional route,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You had us all on the edge of our seats with those overtakes.”

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice to just above a murmur, his gaze fixed on hers. “I thought about what you said. ‘Charm doesn’t score points.’ So I had to give you something else to smile about.”

She could feel her cheeks warm under his steady gaze, and she fought to keep her expression cool. “Don’t flatter yourself, Franco. I’m just here to report the facts.”

“Hmm,” he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, though a playful smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, the fact is, I went from P20 to P12 on my first day. But somehow, I think I still haven’t impressed the person who matters most.”

“The person who—?” She trailed off, exasperated. “Franco, you were the story today.”

“Was I?” he asked, the innocent tone entirely ruined by the mischief in his eyes. “Because if I’m the story, you’re the reason it’s a good one.”

Before she could protest, he glanced over her shoulder at the next journalist, nodding politely. Then, in a flash, he was back to her, clearly undeterred. “When can we continue our interview?”

She forced herself to keep her composure. “I think you’ve given me more than enough material for one day.”

“A pity.” He shook his head, though his grin was unmistakable. “Then maybe next time, you’ll be a little more impressed.”

She watched him walk away, shoulders loose and steps casual as he moved from one group of reporters to the next, answering their questions with the same easy confidence he’d shown with her. She could still feel the heat of his gaze, the lingering effect of his words making her pulse quicken.

“Wow.” The journalist next to her, a seasoned reporter with a wry smile, gave her a knowing look. “You okay there? He has that effect, doesn’t he?”

She blinked, quickly snapping out of her daze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. “I—yeah, I don’t know what’s going on,” she muttered, shaking her head, trying to compose herself. But she could still hear his words ringing in her ears, his playful teasing, the warmth in his gaze. “The person who matters most.”

“Oh, I think I do.” The other journalist smirked, nodding in Franco’s direction as he laughed and clapped a fellow driver on the shoulder. “It seems Franco over here has a slight crush.”

She scoffed, though it came out more flustered than she’d intended. “Franco has a crush on every woman he talks to. It’s his… thing since he got here.”

The journalist raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Maybe so, but I’ve watched him all day and that was different.”

Her colleague’s words only made her cheeks grow warmer. Was it that obvious? She was used to managing tough interviews, unflappable under pressure, and here she was, thrown off by a driver who hadn’t even been in Formula 1 for a full week. But somehow, Franco’s charm wasn’t just some casual game to him; it felt more… intense. And he’d directed every bit of that intensity straight at her.

The journalist chuckled. “Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the attention—it’s not every day a rookie looks at you like you’re the finish line.”

She glanced away, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. She didn’t want to admit it, not to her colleague, and definitely not to herself, but there was something in the way he’d looked at her, like she was more than just another journalist, more than just one of the many people crowding his spotlight.

“Well, let’s hope he stays focused on the real finish line,” she replied, aiming for a casual tone that didn’t quite land. But she couldn’t deny it—Franco Colapinto was becoming more than just the story of the weekend. He was starting to feel like her story, too.

Later that evening, she sat in her hotel room, trying to unwind from the chaos of race day. The lights of the city glimmered outside her window, but her mind was still caught on Franco—his effortless charm, that maddening smirk, the way he’d singled her out, even with half the media pen watching. It was absurd, really. She’d covered far bigger stories, spoken with veteran champions, and yet one rookie had managed to leave her feeling more flustered than she’d care to admit.

With a sigh, she scrolled through her phone, halfheartedly catching up on messages, until a notification popped up that made her heart skip.

Francolpainto has sent you a message.

She hesitated, a mix of curiosity and nerves swirling in her stomach as she opened it. The message was simple, casual—like he hadn’t already spent the whole day keeping her off balance.

Franco: Hola! Are you at the hotel?

Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed a quick reply.

Her: Yes, I am.

The response came almost immediately.

Franco: Perfect! I’m downstairs in the lounge. Come have dinner with me?

She stared at the screen, her mind racing. It was tempting—she’d be lying to herself if she said it wasn’t. But she knew his type all too well, didn’t she? The charming new driver who flirted with every journalist, every fan, anyone who would listen. She could already imagine him saying the exact same things to another reporter tomorrow.

No, she couldn’t let herself get pulled in. Not by someone who was probably just looking for a bit of attention.

Her: Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. Long day.

She set the phone down, hoping that would be the end of it, but a new message came through almost instantly.

Franco: Too bad. I was hoping I’d finally get a smile out of you without a hundred cameras around.

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t deny the small flutter his words sent through her. He was persistent, that was for sure.

Her: You’re very determined, Franco. But I have to ask—do you make this invitation to all the journalists?

A pause, just a few seconds longer than his usual quick responses. Then, his reply appeared, simple and direct.

Franco: No, just the one who keeps me on my toes.

Her: Pity, this one isn’t intrested.

She set her phone down after typing that, ignoring the little thrill that shot through her when he messaged her again almost immediately. Franco’s charm was undeniably effective, but she wasn’t about to let herself become just another name on his roster of admirers. He’d have to do a lot more than offer a casual dinner invite if he wanted her attention.

Franco: Really? You’re going to turn me down just like that?

She smirked at the screen. Of course he wasn’t used to hearing “no.”

Her: Really. I’ve seen you in action today, Franco. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to keep you company.

A longer pause this time, as if her words had taken him off-guard. When he replied, his tone was more thoughtful.

Franco: That’s not what I meant. Today was… different. I don’t want to go to dinner with just anyone. I want to go with you.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay firm. She typed a quick reply, keeping it casual.

Her: Nice try. But I’ve seen the way you charm everyone you talk to. You’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want me to believe that.

A few minutes passed, and she wondered if maybe he’d let it go. But just as she was about to put her phone down, another message appeared.

Franco: Okay. Fair enough. How about this: tomorrow, after practice, let me show you what a real date looks like. No crowds, no cameras. Just you and me.

She hesitated, feeling the pull of curiosity mingled with doubt. She knew he could be as persistent as he was charming, and there was something intriguing about his willingness to push past her refusal.

Her: Why should I believe this isn’t just a game to you?

His response came quickly this time, almost earnest.

Franco: Because no one else makes me want to try this hard. I’m not playing around here, cariño. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.

She smiled, a little thrill rushing through her. For the first time, he seemed genuinely off-balance, unsure, and she couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Her: We’ll see if you mean that. Good luck tomorrow, Franco.

Franco: Gracias. And just so you know… I’m not giving up that easily.

The following week, she found herself in the bustling paddock of the Baku, her eyes catching sight of Franco’s car parked in the paddock. She had to admit, he’d stayed true to his word since their last exchange, staying out of her messages—though his lingering glances and smiles across the paddock hadn’t exactly disappeared. If anything, he seemed more determined, more focused. It was all part of his act, she reminded herself. And yet, there was something undeniably thrilling about it.

She was busy gathering notes when she felt a familiar presence beside her. Franco had sidled up, hands tucked into the pockets of his team jacket, his easygoing grin making her pulse quicken in spite of herself.

“Back to cheer me on, sí?” he asked, eyes bright with that familiar mischief.

She held back a smile, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “I’m here to cover the race, Franco. Your cheering section is back there.” She nodded to the growing crowd of fans waving his name on signs with Argentinan flags just a few metres away.

He laughed, the sound warm and rich. “They’re great, sure, but I was looking for one particular fan. The one who told me I’d have to work harder if I wanted to impress her.”

She raised an eyebrow, stepping out of earshot of the nearest camera. “Oh, you remember that, do you?”

“Every word,” he said, his gaze steady. “I thought about it all week.”

A small thrill ran through her, though she kept her voice steady and her tone cool. “Well, if you’re serious, you’ll have to do better than last week’s P12. Otherwise, it just looks like more talk.”

His expression shifted, his easy grin giving way to a flash of determination. “If it’s a higher position you want,” he said, leaning in just slightly, “then I’ll get it. Just keep watching.”

She crossed her arms, fighting the smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll be watching, Colapinto. Don’t disappoint me.”

He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes flickering with something that felt genuine, earnest. “I don’t plan to,” he murmured, stepping back with a wink before heading toward his car.

As he disappeared into the garage, her heart raced. Franco Colapinto, the rookie charmer, was setting out to prove himself to her. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was looking forward to seeing if he could keep his promise.

She sat in the media centre, eyes locked on the screen as the race unfolded. Franco’s car was easy to spot, weaving its way through the pack with a precision she hadn’t expected. He was starting further up this time, P18, but it was still a long shot to even think he’d break into the top ten. Yet as the laps ticked by, he held his ground, pushing, clawing his way forward with a tenacity that had everyone watching in awe.

“Impressive for a rookie,” she overheard another journalist mutter, and she felt a strange pang of pride.

Halfway through the race, Franco made a daring overtake, squeezing past two midfield drivers into P10. She sat forward, barely breathing. He wasn’t just hanging on—he was gaining, going after every single opportunity on the track with a fierceness she hadn’t seen before.

He’d promised her he’d finish higher than last week, and she’d thought it was just talk, maybe a little playful charm. But here he was, proving her wrong lap by lap.

By the time he made it to P9, she was leaning forward in her seat, clutching her notebook tightly. And then, with a bold move on the final few laps, he passed another driver, slipping into P8. Her heart raced as she watched him hold his ground, fending off the competition, determined to keep the position he’d fought so hard for. The chequered flag dropped, and Franco crossed the line in P8.

She exhaled, a rush of surprise and admiration flooding through her. She’d known he was talented, of course—he wouldn’t have made it this far otherwise. But this? Climbing ten positions in a single race, all for a chance to prove himself to her? It was more than she’d expected.

As the race ended, she moved through the paddock, her mind whirling. Franco Colapinto, the charming rookie who flirted with everyone, had just delivered one of the most impressive drives of the day. For her. And she wasn’t sure if she was more impressed with his skill or his determination to keep his word.

She barely had a chance to catch her breath before she was back in the paddock, microphone in hand, ready to take on the post-race interviews. As she waited for Franco, she replayed his climb through the ranks in her mind—his nerve, his timing, the way he’d handled himself on the track. It wasn’t just impressive; it was astonishing. And as much as she tried to shake it off, she couldn’t ignore the small thrill that ran through her at the thought that he’d done it, in part, for her.

Finally, Franco appeared, still in his race suit his face glistening with the sheen of hard work. There was a slight glimmer of triumph in his eyes as he spotted her, a grin spreading across his face. He walked over, ignoring the other cameras and reporters, his gaze focused squarely on her.

She raised her microphone, keeping her expression as neutral as she could. “Franco Colapinto, P8—your second race in Formula 1, and already a massive improvement from last week. Can you walk us through it?”

He took a quick breath, then leaned in, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Well, you know, someone told me I had to get higher than P12 if I wanted to impress them,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady on hers. “So I did it for them. Great motivation.”

Heat crept up her neck, and she forced herself to stay focused. She could feel the eyes of the other journalists and team members on them, her colleagues probably smirking at his obvious attempt to fluster her, but she managed to hold her ground.

“Impressive,” she said, keeping her voice level. “And this ‘motivation’—I assume it’s the same one who’s kept you on your toes all week?”

Franco’s grin grew wider, unabashed. “Absolutely. Turns out, when someone challenges me, I take it seriously.” He shifted his stance, his gaze softening just a fraction. “And if they ask, I’ll do it again.”

A few people around them chuckled, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. This wasn’t the usual post-race banter, and he didn’t seem interested in giving anyone the typical driver answers. He was speaking to her as if they were alone, and for a brief moment, she almost forgot the cameras.

“Well, whatever you’re doing,” she replied, finally letting a small smile slip, “it seems to be working. P8 is no small feat.”

He tilted his head, as if studying her. “Then maybe next week, you’ll set the bar even higher for me?” His voice was low, just enough for her to hear.

She felt her resolve waver slightly, but managed to maintain her professionalism. “We’ll see, Colapinto. For now, let’s just focus on how you plan to keep this up.”

He chuckled, shifting his grip on his helmet. “Oh, I think I have all the motivation I need right here.” With one last grin and a wink, he turned to greet the other journalists, leaving her to process what was easily the most disarming post-race interview she’d ever conducted.

Later that night, she was back in her hotel room, unwinding with a cup of tea, trying to shake off the lingering thrill of Franco’s performance—and his audacity in the post-race interview. She still couldn’t believe how he’d shamelessly directed half of his answers at her, leaving her just as off-balance as he had on the track. But as much as she tried to dismiss it, her thoughts kept circling back to his determination, his promise that he’d push harder just because she’d challenged him.

Her phone buzzed with a message, and she glanced down to see it was from the William’s Instagram Account.

Team Rep: Hey, what’s your room number?

She frowned for a moment, surprised by the casualness of the message. But teams occasionally followed up with journalists for clarifications or comments, especially after high-profile performances like Franco’s. Assuming they needed to drop off some post-race press notes or team statements, she quickly typed back her room number.

Her: Room 914.

Team Rep: Perfect. Thanks.

Not even a minute later, she heard a quiet knock on her door. She glanced at the time, wondering if the team rep had come by himself. But when she opened the door, the hallway was empty. Instead, resting on the floor in front of her was a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers—vibrant, unruly, and charmingly imperfect, wrapped with a small card slipped between the stems.

Her pulse quickened. She didn’t have to check the note to know exactly who had left them.

Still, curiosity got the best of her, and she crouched down, carefully lifting the bouquet to pull the card free.

“To my motivation: thank you for the push. Let’s raise the stakes again soon. — F.

A soft, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. She felt the warmth creeping up her cheeks, aware that Franco Colapinto had managed to surprise her again. It was a move so bold, so unexpected—and, somehow, more genuine than any casual dinner invitation could have been.

She sighed, shaking her head but unable to fight the smile any longer. As she placed the flowers on the table, their vibrant petals catching the soft light, she couldn’t help but wonder what Franco would pull next to prove himself. Because one thing was certain: he wasn’t giving up. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want him to.

She couldn’t resist. Picking up her phone, she sent a quick message, keeping it light, casual.

Her: Cute.

It didn’t take long for his response to pop up.

Franco: Oh? You find me cute?

She rolled her eyes, though her heart skipped a beat as she typed back.

Her: No, the flowers were a cute move.

A beat passed, and then came his reply, playful but edged with a hint of something more.

Franco: Well, then… would you let the guy behind the cute move take you out for dinner?

She hesitated, fingers hovering over her phone. She knew what this looked like—a line blurred between work and something personal, maybe too personal. And for him, a rookie who’d just broken into the sport, one misstep could easily become a distraction he couldn’t afford. It wasn’t just her reputation, but his too, and the stakes felt higher than either of them probably realised.

Her: I don’t know, Franco. There’s too much on the line.

A pause, longer than his usual quick responses, and for a moment she thought maybe he’d let it go. Then his reply came through, brief and simple.

Franco: Okay.

She stared at the word, an unexpected pang of disappointment catching her off guard. Franco, usually so persistent, so bold, had accepted her hesitation without a fight. But as much as she wanted to push away her own reservations, she knew she was right. Still, the thought of him backing off now left her feeling… unbalanced.

Setting the phone down, she let out a sigh, glancing over at the flowers resting on her table. A small part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, she’d made the wrong choice.

Four weeks later, they were back at the track, Austin, the usual energy humming through the paddock as teams and drivers prepared for the weekend ahead. She found herself scanning the garages, a little spark of nerves in her chest that had nothing to do with work. Franco had kept his distance over the past few weeks—well, as much distance as someone like him could manage. He was still his playful, charismatic self with the press, charming everyone in sight, but there was something different. He hadn’t followed up on his dinner invitation, hadn’t tried to push beyond her boundaries. She told herself it was for the best. Still, a small part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been too cautious.

Just then, she spotted him near the team’s garage, leaning against the wall in his race suit around his hips, deep in conversation with one of his engineers. When he looked up and saw her, his face lit up, a grin breaking across his face as if no time had passed. She felt a little of that old thrill in her chest as he walked over.

“Hola, stranger,” he greeted, hands tucked into his pockets of his team jacket, his voice as warm and casual as ever. “Miss me?”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “You were just here four weeks ago, Colapinto. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled, giving her that familiar, playful look. “Four weeks is a long time, don’t you think?”

She shook her head, feeling a bit of the tension from the past month melt away. Whatever her own doubts, Franco hadn’t let her brush-off change him—he was still here, as charming and persistent as ever. And somehow, that lifted a weight off her shoulders.

“Have you been behaving?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or should I be prepared for more unexpected flower deliveries?”

Franco’s grin grew wider, his eyes flashing with that spark she was growing dangerously used to. “Depends. You miss them?”

She laughed softly, looking down to avoid letting him see her smile. “I’d hardly admit that if I did.”

He leaned in just slightly, his voice lowering. “Good thing I’m a patient man, then. Because I’m not done yet.” There was a softness to his tone, a hint of something genuine beneath his usual confidence, and it made her heart skip a beat.

Despite herself, she found comfort in his persistence, in his way of toeing the line between serious and playful without putting any pressure on her. For all his charm, he hadn’t crossed any lines. He was waiting, leaving the door open if she ever wanted to step through.

As he turned to head back toward his car, he glanced over his shoulder, giving her a wink. “You know where to find me if you change your mind, cariño. I’ll be around.”

And with that, he disappeared into the garage, leaving her standing there with a soft smile, feeling just a little lighter, a little braver.

She found herself glued to the screen as the race unfolded, Franco’s car darting through the pack with all the finesse and raw determination she’d come to recognise in him. Starting from P17, he had a long climb ahead of him, and as the laps ticked down, he kept gaining ground, his timing sharp, his decisions bold. He was relentless, working his way through the grid with an intensity that kept her at the edge of her seat.

By the halfway mark, he was already up to P12, and she could feel the anticipation building among the journalists and crew around her. Franco wasn’t just driving; he was fighting for every single position, taking advantage of each moment with an almost calculated risk. And he was doing it with the confidence that had both frustrated and charmed her from the start.

Then, in the final laps, with a daring overtake on the inside line, he claimed P10. A top ten finish. It was almost too perfect—his words from the last race echoing in her mind as he crossed the line: “If they ask, I’ll do it again.”

The paddock was buzzing with excitement as she made her way toward the media pen, preparing herself for the post-race interview. She tried to tamp down the flutter of nerves, reminding herself that he’d been charming his way through interviews with her for weeks now. But there was something different this time, a spark of pride mingled with her excitement, and she couldn’t wait to see him walk in.

When he finally appeared, the smile on his face was brighter than she’d ever seen. Still in his race suit, a towel on his head, he strode over to her with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. She raised her microphone, struggling to keep her voice steady.

“Franco Colapinto,” she began, her own smile betraying just a hint of the thrill she felt. “P10 from P17—congratulations. Tell us, how did you manage such an impressive climb?”

He grinned, leaning casually into the microphone. “Well, you know me. I like a good challenge,” he said, his gaze holding hers for a second longer than necessary. “And I couldn’t let down the one person who told me I had to keep improving.”

The implication wasn’t lost on anyone listening, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She rolled her eyes slightly, playing it off as best she could. “Seems like you’re making a habit of climbing positions to impress,” she replied, keeping her tone light.

Franco’s smile softened, turning almost genuine. “For some things,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear, “it’s worth the effort.”

She swallowed, momentarily at a loss for words, but managed to pull herself together, keeping the interview rolling. “Well, you’ve certainly earned that P10. What’s the plan for next time? Any more surprise performances in store?”

“Oh, definitely,” he replied, flashing her a grin. “But let’s say I’ll aim higher than P10 next time. If someone out there is willing to set a new challenge for me, I’ll be ready.” His words hung in the air, a subtle invitation that made her heart skip a beat.

She couldn’t hold back her smile as she wrapped up the interview, his gaze lingering on her with that same unspoken promise. And as she watched him walk away, her heart raced with the thrill of what might come next, realising that maybe—just maybe—she was ready to see where this challenge would lead.

As Franco walked away, she felt the lingering warmth of his gaze, that same thrill coursing through her that she’d tried so hard to brush off. But now, it seemed, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to. The interview had felt like more than just a casual exchange; his words, his look—there was something real beneath the flirtation, something she found herself wanting to chase.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of post-race coverage and media duties, but her thoughts kept drifting back to him, to the way his eyes had held hers, steady and genuine, as he’d promised to aim even higher. It was only when she caught herself looking around the paddock, almost instinctively, that she realised she was seeking him out. By then, her professional caution had faded, replaced by something far less reasonable but far more enticing.

She knew she was violating so many unspoken rules as she made her way around the paddock, ducking out of the more crowded paths and slipping past the occasional lingering crew member. A pang of guilt buzzed at the back of her mind, but it was no match for the magnetic pull drawing her toward his driver’s room.

She stopped outside the door, exhaling a shaky breath as her pulse raced with a mix of nerves and anticipation. The hallway was quiet, the sounds of the bustling paddock fading away. Before she could second-guess herself, she raised her hand and knocked softly.

The door opened, and there he was, in a grey tracksuit and plain black top, his expression shifting from surprise to that warm, familiar smile that had always managed to disarm her.

“Well,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “I didn’t expect my motivation to show up in person.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding her smile. “I figured I’d come to make sure you’re planning to keep your word. That climb to P10 wasn’t exactly a small feat.”

His smile softened, and he stepped aside, wordlessly inviting her in. As the door clicked shut behind them, the noise and pressures of the paddock slipped away, leaving just the two of them. The look he gave her—warm, unguarded, and almost vulnerable—made her heart skip a beat.

She’d broken so many of her own rules just to get here, but in this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to regret a single one.

Taking a moment to look around, she noticed his bags were packed and ready for the triple header and that there was nowhere to sit.

She sat on the edge of his bed, trying to look at ease despite the heat rising in her cheeks. Franco stood in front of her, close enough that her knees brushed his legs. The room felt charged with his presence, the quiet intensity in his gaze making it impossible to look away.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he murmured, leaning down a bit. The way his dark eyes lingered on her, sweeping over her face and holding her gaze, sent a rush of warmth through her.

She felt a smile tugging at her lips, trying to keep her voice steady. “Figured I’d make sure you’re holding up after all that hard work.”

He chuckled, his voice low, with just a hint of playfulness. “Oh, I’m holding up just fine.” He reached out, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek, letting his thumb linger just a moment too long against her skin. “In fact, I think I’m doing better than fine.”

Her cheeks flushed even deeper, but she held his gaze, determined not to let him throw her off-balance—at least not completely. “You know,” she said, trying to match his tone, “you don’t have to turn everything into a line, Colapinto.”

Franco tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Only with you, cariño.”

She let out a soft laugh, her heartbeat picking up as he moved closer, until he was standing right between her legs. She felt his fingers trace gently along her jawline, his thumb tilting her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes.

“Not used to being flirted with, cariño?” he asked softly, his voice smooth and teasing.

She swallowed, feeling her blush deepen as her usual composure slipped. “No… not like this.”

“Shame,” he murmured, his thumb grazing her cheek as his eyes searched hers, warm and intent. His voice softened, and the playfulness gave way to something more genuine. “Because I’m just getting started.”

She felt her breath hitch, her pulse racing as his words sank in, leaving her both disarmed and impossibly drawn in. And in that moment, she realised that every wall she’d put up around him was slipping away, piece by piece.

For a moment, she couldn’t take her eyes off him, the air between them thick with anticipation. Then, she noticed the small silver chain dangling from his neck, glinting faintly against the fabric of his black top, and without thinking, she reached up, wrapping her fingers around it gently.

Franco’s gaze flickered in surprise, his breath catching as she tugged on the chain, pulling him just close enough that their faces were inches apart. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, and the intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through her that made her heart pound. His hands settled on either side of her hips as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the charged silence.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, soft and exploratory, but the warmth in his response was immediate. His hand slid up her back, pulling her closer, and she felt his fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his touch gentle yet confident.

She didn’t realise how tightly she was gripping his chain until she felt his hand cover hers, his thumb tracing lightly over her knuckles as if to say, I’m here.

When they finally parted, both of them slightly breathless, Franco looked at her, hand caressing her cheek, his smile soft and real, devoid of his usual playfulness. He looked at her with a quiet intensity that made her stomach flip.

“You know," he started, his voice dipping into that smooth, charming tone, “I thought I never had a chance with you. You made me work for every single look, every smile…” He shook his head, his hand still resting against her cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath her jaw. “I was convinced you’d never actually let me get this close.”

She felt a warm, amused smile tugging at her lips as she listened to him, his words genuine but tinged with that familiar, playful charm. Watching him, her heart surged with an undeniable impulse, one she didn’t want to ignore any longer. In one fluid motion, she slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his again with a fierce, unrestrained intensity that sent sparks through her.

Franco’s surprise melted instantly, his hands slipping from her cheek to either side of her hips, matching her passion. The kiss deepened, turning slower, almost reverent, as if neither of them wanted the moment to end. She could feel his pulse racing under her hands, his warmth overwhelming in the most exhilarating way.

Without breaking the kiss, she leaned back, drawing him down with her onto the bed. She felt his weight settle gently over her, his hands bracing on either side of her as he kissed her with a hunger that felt both new and inevitable. When he finally pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over hers, his voice was breathless, a bit dazed.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his fingers tracing down her arm as he held her gaze, a vulnerable softness there she hadn’t seen before.

“Good,” she whispered back, her own voice unsteady, feeling as though her walls were completely gone now. “Because I don’t plan on making it easy for you.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned down, his mouth finding hers again with an eagerness that left them both completely lost in each other, as if the rest of the world had faded away.

Maybe he was worth the wait.

the end.

[omgeto]

☆ COVER UP — tattoo artist!GETO SUGURU

summary: all you wanted was a cover up tattoo to replace the name your ex left on you. you didn't think you'd be leaving the tattoo shop with a replacement for your ex's tattoo and a replacement for him as well.

wc: 3k

cw: afab!reader, geto gives you backshots, he's kinda obsessed w/ your ass here, unprotected sex (since I forget condoms) BUT he's a gentleman pulls out </3 your kinda a meanie. he's kinda a meanie so light angst (?) but barely. MDNI

an: haven't posted a longer work in a hot minute, but here is how you meet tattoo artist boyfriend!geto soooo give this one a chance big fanks to my lil twat @kazushawty for helping me out and reading bits of it.

as you push open the heavy glass door of ‘cursed ink studios,’ a subtle bell chimes softly, announcing your presence. instantly, the atmosphere inside crackles with an electric charge. the air is thick with the intoxicating scent of ink, mingling with the sterile bite of antiseptic. the walls are adorned with vivid flash art form a chaotic tapestry, while the rhythmic hum of a tattoo gun echoes through the room.

and there he is, geto suguru – a tall, enigmatic figure with jet-black hair and sleeves of mesmerising tattoos that seem to tell stories of their own. he sits at his workbench, surrounded by an array of ink bottles and tattoo machines, his piercing eyes never leaving the art he's creating. a carefully curated playlist of music plays softly in the background, punctuated by the occasional buzzing of the tattoo gun.

he glances up from his intricate work as you enter, his gaze slowly travelling up and down your form. there's a hint of curiosity in his eyes, as though he's wondering why you, of all people, have ventured into his sacred space. his expression, however, suggests that he's far from thrilled about the interruption.

"need something?" he asks, his irritation evident.

"i need a cover-up” you swallow your nerves, holding your head high, your voice steady, ”my ex's name."

geto raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by your request. "ex's name, huh? you people never learn."

your jaw clenches at his condescending tone. "well, i'm here now, so can you do it or not?"

he continues to scrutinise you, his gaze feeling like a judgmental weight. finally, he nods, albeit reluctantly. "fine, show me."

with a sigh of resignation, you turn around, your heart pounding as you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to reveal the offending name covering your left ass cheek. it's a constant reminder of a relationship gone wrong, and you're more than ready to be rid of it.

"this won't be easy," he mutters, his fingers cool against your skin as he traces the outline of the name. his touch lingers, just a little too long, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. his fingers, skilled and confident, continued to trace the inked letters of your ex's name on your skin — almost toyingly. and you could feel the chill of the tattoo parlour's air-conditioning contrasted by the warmth of his touch.

his voice, though still gruff, held a trace of disgust "who did this?" he asks, not looking up from the tattoo.

you hesitate, your memories of that past relationship flooding back. "my ex-boyfriend," you reply tersely.

geto's fingers stop their tracing, and he lets out a low, almost imperceptible sigh. "you let your boyfriend do a shitty tattoo on you, and you let him make it his name," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "you practically let him brand you."

“is it your job to be such a bitchy artist?” you snap, already fed up by his comments. you’ve heard it from your parents, your friends, ever since you got that trashy tattoo. but couldn't disagree with that sentiment — you knew it was a shit tattoo. “i thought i was paying you for your artistry, not your smart mouth.”

"listen," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "you walk in here with that god awful mess on your skin, and you've got the nerve to criticise my attitude? if you want to be rid of it, you'll do well to keep that attitude in check, sweetheart."

you bite back a retort, realising that you've indeed crossed a line with your comment. there's a palpable tension in the air now, a simmering anger beneath the surface, and it seems that geto has no intention of backing down.

with a deep breath, you swallow your pride and offer a reluctant apology. "i'm sorry," you mutter, a touch of remorse in your voice. "i shouldn't have snapped at you."

he continues to hold your gaze for a moment, his expression still stern, before finally nodding. "apology accepted."

you didn’t actually have an idea of what you wanted for the cover up, you just knew you needed it gone. geto was a highly sought out cover artist so you had no doubt that he’d be able to do you good. with your initial meeting being heated, you thought it was best to leave him to do his thing.

with a sense of relief that the confrontation has subsided, you decide to give geto some space to work his magic. "i'll leave you to it," you say, your voice quieter now, and you turn away from him.

"good," he mutters, his focus fully on his ipad as he starts to sketch, not even looking as you leave the shop. 

geto usually was quick to draw up tattoo sketches for clients, but when it came to you he was stunned — too busy thinking about how your ass looked rather than what he was meant to tattoo on it. from the moment you stepped in his shop, he was intrigued, you didn’t see the type to get work done by him and the marking stretched on your ass didn’t seem like it would belong to someone with an attitude like yours. 

his mind was anything but focused on the design. he couldn't help but replay the encounter with you in his thoughts, your brashness and the way you'd stood your ground, even under his scrutiny.

"why the hell did she get that shitty tattoo?" he mutters to himself, his fingers deftly working his pen. the sketch was beginning to take shape, but his mind kept drifting back to the curve of your ass. he couldn't deny the attraction he felt, and it frustrated him. he was supposed to be a professional, detached from his clients beyond the art he created on their skin. but something about you had thrown him off balance.

“so you ready to get this tatted on you?” is the first thing he asks when you return the following day. you inspect his sketches in awe, of course you never doubted his talent but you didn’t think he’d be able to draw something you wanted without you even having to say.

“well it seems you do live up to your reputation,” you comment with a neutral facade, but you both know that you were downplaying your excitement — you were pleased. and like with any client, that made geto satisfied that he was doing his job correctly. but when he saw the way your eyes lit up when he initially showed you the sketches, it was a sight he wanted to see again. “i guess we can start the tattoo.”

“okay i’ll get my stuff set up, get rid of those,” he says nodding towards your jeans, “and lay down when you’re ready.” you slip yourself out of your bottoms, leaving the itty bitty thong that you knew you’d need for the appointment and that a small part of you hoped he liked.

he pauses when he sees you laying down on the seat in his station, your head resting in your arms, your ass slightly raised.  ‘this is gonna be a long session,’ he thinks to himself as he smirks, shaking his head as he works his way to his seat.

as he sits down, he places the stencil over your ass, and you berate yourself for getting giddy at the feeling of him rubbing over the design to make sure it was in place — wishing that his hand stayed for longer. 

“how are you with pain?” he asks, and from the way you were laying you weren’t able to see the way he was gawping at your ass.

“what type of pain?” you retort.

“y’know the type of pain where someones drilling into your ass for hours,” he comments as if it’s obvious but you both knew his words were hinting at more than just the tattoo.

“choice words there,” you muse, “but any type of pain i’m alright with, so give me your best.”

geto's needle hovers just above your skin, poised for action. "you sure about that?" he murmurs, his voice low and suggestive.

a coy smile tugs at your lips as you respond, "I can handle it if you can."

with a deliberate, almost tantalising slowness, he lowers the needle to your skin. the first touch is a sharp, stinging sensation, but you refuse to flinch. you're determined to hold your own, to meet geto's challenge head-on.

he continues to work, the needle dancing across your skin with a practised precision. the room is filled with the rhythmic sound of the tattoo machine, creating a hypnotic backdrop to your growing tension.

as minutes turn into hours, you find yourself lost in a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. the pain is undeniable, but there's something oddly exhilarating about it. you steal a glance at geto, his intense focus on his work, and you can't help but wonder if he's enjoying this as much as you are.

"still doing okay?" he asks, his tone a mix of concern and something more primal.

you bite your lower lip, suppressing a moan that threatens to escape. "i told you, i can handle it."

geto smirks, his gaze locked on your ass as he continues to tattoo. "you've got quite the threshold for pain. impressive."

“is it really? i'm sure you’ve worked on a lot of other clients with higher thresholds for pain.”

“but none of them have had an ass like yours though,” he mumbles to himself — but you hear him loud and clear, a grin forming on your face at the confession. “anyways, we’re all done now, go ahead and look in the mirror.”

you stand in the full length mirror, your head slightly turned at an angle as you gawp at your ass. your eyes widen seeing what was once your shitty exes name, now turned into a piece of true art. 

“so what d’you think?” he asks, and you didn’t even notice him coming to stand behind you until you felt his breath on the back of your neck, “this shit is hot right?”

“you can say that again,” you agree, keeping your eyes focused on the tattoo, trying to ignore the quickening of your heart beat at the presence of him, “this is really great though, like i couldn’t imagine my ass could look this good after having that tattooed on on it all his time.”

“well no need to imagine anymore,” geto’s face forms a smiling grin, you can tell he was admiring way more than just his artwork, “you mind if i take a picture… for my instagram?” he says, barely asking as his phone is already out of his pocket and is in his hands, he looks up at you for permission and you give a slight nod before he’s snapping away at your ass.

“are you sure this is for your instagram,” you tease, as he continues to take photos crouched down, as he circles your ass with his phone, “or is this just for your personal wank bank?”

“would you like it to be?” he retorts back swiftly, there wasn’t even any mischief in his eyes as he looks up at you, just pure lust.

“um i–” you stutter, only now feeling exposed — as if he hadn’t been working on your ass already for the past six hours.

“don’t get shy on me now,” he coos, standing up to face you head on, “y’gonna let me finish off making you forget that ex or yours or what?”

“be my guest,” you respond, trying to come across as nonchalant, but the eager look in your eyes gave geto all he needed to know. 

he pushes you softly, as he commands, “hands against the mirror and spread your legs.” and you do just that, as he comes behind you, fitting in between your legs perfectly. his hand forces ur back down, deeping the arch of your spine before both of his hands grab onto your ass.

geto really rubs and digs his thumbs into your cheeks, biting his lip at the sight at the way his fingers mould into your ass. “fuckk man,” he groans out, he’s not even in you yet and he was already obsessed with every inch of you. 

he frees his dick from his pants, and pumps it quickly before sliding it across your already gushing slit. you hiss at the contact, a pleased smile working its way on your face as the tip of his dick edges into you.

“s-shit,” you stammer, as he inches himself into you deeper, “w-what about the rest of the shop?”

“what about them?” he shrugs, “you don’t want them to hear naught you’re being right now? HEY GUYS—”

“oi,” you hiss out, your eyes widening as you turn your head to look directly at him.

“i’m just playing, i’m not ready to share you quite just yet,” he retorts, his dick moving in you at an achingly slow pace, “now, keep your eyes focused on the mirror, and you better not let those hands slip.”

before you can respond, he thrust his hips into you as deep as he could, his dick slamming into you. you moan out at the surprising force, trying your best to keep your palms flat on the surface of the mirror, as you stare straight at him — watching how he works his hands from your ass to your hips so he can drive into you with all of his force. 

“this pussy is s-so fucking good,” he praises, the sloppiness of your cunt making it easy for him to slide his dick in and out of you. “oh and this ass,” he continues giving a hard spank on your ass cheek, to emphasise his point, “c’mon throw your ass back on my dick, i wanna see it bounce.”

you fuck him back, doing exactly as he says, your ass meeting his hips with the same amount of force. his spanks encourage you to be quicker, to give him everything he wants. his repeating, strong strokes, have you feeling weaker, your hands slipping as you try to stay up right, when all you want to do is collapse and cum everywhere. 

“f-fuckk it’s too much,” you whine, as he drills into you.

“nah,” he says, shrugging his head, “it’s not enough,” he lifts up his legs, his digits pressing into your deeper, as he now angles his strokes even further into your pussy, hitting your spot with ease. “give it to me harder, i know you can” he encourages, another two swift spanks landing on your ass.

with his continuous contact of your ass and his hips, and the way his dick pushes into you deeper, you felt like you were splitting in two. but you kept going, thinking back to your earlier conversation, you didn’t want to prove him wrong, you wanted to show him that you can handle it, handle him.

geto was practically beaming, licking his lips feverishly at the sight of your fucked out face through the mirror as he watches himself plough into you, your body rocking forward with every thrust. his eyes concentrate on your ass, as he says, “d’you see how your rocking my work on you now?” and you nod dumbly, too busy trying to reach your climax to string a sentence together, “so fuck that ex of yours and his shitty ass tattooing, from now on you only can me on your body, you got that?” he asks and you nod again, but he shakes his head, his hand moving from your waist to your chin as he grips it making your eyes stay locked on his through the mirror, “i said do you got that?”

“ahhh s-shit yet i do, i do,” you say, mirroring his words, “i will only have you on my body, ‘promise.”

“good girl,” he approves, giving your chin a squeeze before letting go, “now cum.” 

with those simple words, you release all over him, your stance getting weaker, as you shoot out cum all over his dick. he’s quick to pull out of you though, stroking his dick as he sprays his cum all over your ass, with a deep groan.

your hands are still on the wall, as you take deep breaths, trying to recollect yourself. but you turn around swiftly seeing a flash of a camera behind you, and geto is back to crouching down, with his phone out, taking pictures of your cum covered ass.

“you mind if i keep these in my wank bank forreal this time?” he asks, smirking as you nod, “i’ll take some more later, but i got two questions to ask.”

“and those are…” you say, prompting him to continue.

“first, let me take you out after this?” he asks with a smirk, already knowing the answer. after the way he just dicked you down, you’d be a fool not to let him wine and dine you, “second, y’gonna come suffocate my face with that ass of yours or not?” you couldn’t even answer the second question since he’s pulling you down to the floor with him, with a joyous grin on his face.

AN: IGNORE THE FACT THAT HE CUMS ALL OVER UR FRESH TATTOO. LIKE JUST IGNORE IT. just focus on the fact that you have a lovely ass and geto loves it too. but yes do you want to see more, I HAVE ENOUGH IDEAS TO EVEN MAKE A LIL MASTERLIST FOR IT. I love tattoo artist boyfriend!geto so so much, like when u guys become an established relationship it actually gets so good. BUT I DONT REALLY LIKE THIS ONE, BUT IF U GUYS FW IT I PROMISE ILL ACTUALLY WRITE AND POST THE ONES I LOVE. BUT I FELT LIKE I HAD TO WRITE THIS FIRST SO YOU COULD SEE HOW U AND GETO STARTED. LMK UR THOUGHTS

[distort-t]

SHY AFFECTION PROMPTS—

Walking side by side, the back of their fingers brushing—too shy to initiate hand-holding.

Teasing the tips of person B’s hair between their fingers, watching their fingers, unable to meet B’s gaze.

Subtle acts of service: opening a door for them, covering cornered edges when the other bends down to pick something up, purchasing something of the other’s interest.

”You look—uh, good. You look good.” Stammering, trying to appear confident when complimenting the other. Cue the throat clearing and avoidance of eye-contact.

Hesitant smiles and blushy cheeks.

Person A about to say something before thinking against it and closing their mouth.

Agonising slow-paced romance.

Person B sticking by person A’s side while they’re sick and stuck to bed rest, despite A’s warning of getting them sick too.

Thoughtful picnic dates.

Almost confessions.

”I care about you, and I want the best for you.”

Friends to lovers.

Looking for each other in social settings.

“You mean more to me than that.”

”Come on, we’re friends.” “Are we really?”

Angsty confessions after built up feelings being hidden.

Everyone can see it but them.

“We’re just friends!” “With how B is looking at you now? I don’t think you’re just friends.”

Starry night skies, damp grass, and deep talks about life.

B learning about A’s body insecurities and finding that it’s their favourite part of them.

Love-fuelled kisses under whispering nights.

So deeply in love that it almost makes their friends uncomfortable to witness.

Feathery forehead kisses.

Neither of them raise their voice—a love so gentle and kind that it makes your teeth rot.

Either one has social anxiety and the other orders for them at cafes and restaurants, or both of them do and one disregards their own anxiety and steps up.

Late nights cuddled up and quiet giggles.

”You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

”I want our kids to have your eyes.”

Inside jokes that literally no one understands.

[hoshifighting]

Overstimulation

— Synopsis: After a breakup, you confide in Mingyu about your ex-boyfriend's reluctance to indulge one of your fetishes. To your surprise, Mingyu eagerly offers to help you explore and practice it. — WC: 3.9k — WARNINGS: Smut, dirty talk, overstimulation (m. receiving), fetish explorations, mentions of body fluids, finger riding (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (m. receiving), rough sex, multiple orgasms and etc.

You and Mingyu had been inseparable since childhood, sharing everything from secrets to dreams. He was your rock, your confidant, your best friend. As the years went by, your bond only grew stronger, weathering the storms of life together.

But as you entered into a long-term relationship with a guy, things began to change. You found yourself craving new experiences, wanting to explore the world outside the confines of your relationship. You started to feel restless, curious about what else was out there.

One evening, after you broke up with the same person, you found yourself opening up to Mingyu about your desires. "I loved him," you began, hesitantly. "But sometimes I wondered what it would be like to be with someone else, to have different experiences, especially in bed."

Mingyu listened quietly, his eyes full of understanding. "I get it," he said softly. "It's natural to want to explore, to learn and grow. And you shouldn't feel guilty for wanting that."

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders at his words. For the first time, you didn't feel judged or condemned for your thoughts. Mingyu was there, offering his support without hesitation.

He encouraged you to meet new people, to broaden your horizons, and to step out of your comfort zone. Mingyu was like a guiding light, leading you through the maze of uncertainty with unwavering support.

He introduced you to his friends, a diverse group with different backgrounds and personalities. Mingyu's vast list of contacts became your ticket to new experiences, as you found yourself going on dates with intriguing individuals from all walks of life.

He never judged you for wanting more; instead, he cheered you on, urging you to chase after your desires with unwavering determination.

"Do you have any fetishes?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine interest.

Your eyes widened slightly at the question, surprised by its suddenness. You shifted in your seat, contemplating how to respond. After a moment of hesitation, you decided to trust Mingyu with this intimate detail.

"Uh, fetishes? Well, I mean, doesn't everyone have something they're into?" you replied, trying to play it cool.

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, pretty much. So spill the beans, what's yours?"

Feeling a bit bashful, you hesitated for a moment before deciding to be honest. "Well, I've always been intrigued by overstimulation," you admitted, your cheeks flushing pink.

Mingyu's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Overstimulation, huh? That's actually pretty light," he remarked, his tone nonchalant.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction. "Yeah, I guess so," you replied, relieved that he didn't seem fazed by your confession.

Then, after a moment of silence, you couldn't resist adding with a mischievous grin, "Actually, I've always wanted to be the one doing the overstimulating."

Mingyu's eyes widened in shock, his mouth falling open in disbelief. "Wait, what?!" he sputtered, clearly caught off guard by your revelation. "I thought you were a pillow princess!" 

You gasped dramatically, pretending to be offended. "A pillow princess? Me? How dare you, Mingyu!"

Mingyu threw his head back with laughter, clearly amused by your exaggerated reaction. "Come on, you can't deny it. You give off those vibes sometimes."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eye. "Oh, so you think I'm just lying back and letting everyone else do the work, huh? I'll have you know I can be quite the opposite."

Mingyu laughed, realizing he had walked right into your trap. "Okay, okay, I get it. You're not a pillow princess. You're a... pillow queen?"

You rolled your eyes, swatting him playfully with a nearby cushion. "Oh, please. I'm more like a pillow ninja."

Mingyu doubled over with laughter, unable to contain himself. "Pillow ninja? I love it! Consider me impressed, oh mighty pillow ninja."

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "Oh, I see how it is. You think you know me so well, huh?"

Mingyu's grin widened as he leaned back against the couch. "Hey, I'm just going by what you told me. But if you're saying there's more to you than meets the eye..."

You nodded emphatically, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. "Oh, there's definitely more to me than meets the eye."

"So, you're telling me you've got some hidden talents, huh?" Mingyu's voice was low, dripping with seductive undertones.

You grinned, leaning in closer to meet his gaze. "Oh, you have no idea," you replied, your voice laced with a hint of mischief.

Mingyu's eyebrow arched teasingly as he closed the distance between you, his breath warm against your ear. "Well, then, why don't you show me?" he murmured, his words sending a thrill coursing through you.

You bit your lip, a coy smile playing on your lips. "Maybe I will," you teased back, your heart racing with excitement.

The air crackled with anticipation as Mingyu leaned back, his eyes dancing with playful desire. "I can't wait," he whispered, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

With a daring grin, you leaned in closer, your breath mingling with Mingyu's as you whispered, "But first, let's see if you can handle what I have in store."

Mingyu's eyes widened in playful challenge, his smirk growing even wider. "Oh, I'm more than ready for whatever you have planned," he shot back, his voice thick with anticipation.

You chuckled softly, feeling a surge of confidence coursing through you. "We'll see about that," you teased, trailing a finger lightly along Mingyu's jawline, relishing the way his breath hitched in response.

The tension between you crackled with electricity as Mingyu's gaze darkened with desire. With a swift movement, he pulled you closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

"Show me," he murmured, his voice husky with need.

our lips collided in a fiery embrace, tongues tangling hungrily as desire surged between you. Mingyu's hands gripped your waist with a fervent urgency, pulling you closer until there was barely any space left between your bodies.

With each passionate kiss, the world around you faded into obscurity, leaving only the electric connection between you and Mingyu. His lips moved against yours with a delicious rhythm, igniting a firestorm of need deep within your core.

As you melted into his touch, the sensation of his lips against your skin sent sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. Every brush, every graze, every kiss left your skin tingling with a raw and primal hunger.

Breathless and needy, you broke apart for a moment, gasping for air as Mingyu's eyes burned with desire. But the pause was fleeting, as his lips crashed against yours once more, hungry and demanding.

With lips locked in a feverish embrace, you and Mingyu stumbled towards the bedroom, shedding clothes haphazardly along the way. T-shirts and jeans were discarded on the floor of the apartment hallway, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

As you bumped into furniture, knocking over a lamp in your haste, Mingyu groaned softly against your lips, the sound sending shivers down your spine. But you couldn't stop now, not when the desire between you burned so fiercely.

Hands roamed eagerly over heated skin, fingers tangling in hair as you pressed closer, eager to savor every moment of this. The world around you faded into a blur as you reached the bedroom, stumbling onto the bed in a tangle of limbs.

Mingyu's hand tangled in your hair, exerting a gentle pressure as he guided you downward. You found yourself on your knees beside the bed, his form laid out before you, anticipation coursing through your veins.

Following his lead, your hands trailed along his thighs, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath your touch. When his hand guided yours to his bulge, you felt a surge of excitement shoot through you.

Your gaze met Mingyu's as you looked up from beneath, a coy smile playing on your lips. With deliberate slowness, you licked a large stripe up the length of his cock, feeling the heat and slickness of his precum against your tongue.

A hiss escaped Mingyu's lips, a sharp intake of breath betraying the intensity of his arousal. Encouraged by his reaction, you continued your exploration, teasing and tasting every inch of him with unrestrained hunger.

As you lavished attention on him, Mingyu's grip on your hair tightened, his hips lifting slightly in response to your touch.

Feeling the throbbing heat of Mingyu's cock in your hands, you couldn't resist the primal urge building inside you. You needed to feel him deep in your throat, to take him in completely and surrender to the raw intensity of the moment.

With determination, you lowered your head, taking him into your mouth inch by inch. Mingyu's grip on your hair tightened instinctively, his fingers digging into your scalp as a guttural groan escaped his lips.

As you took more of him into your mouth, your throat stretched to accommodate his size, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Mingyu's hips bucked up slightly in response, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you continued your relentless descent.

As Mingyu's climax approached, you intensified your movements, bobbing your head with fervent determination. The heat of his cock in your mouth, the urgency in his grip on your hair, it all fueled your desire to bring him to the edge.

Then, without warning, you felt the first hot spurts of his release, his cum flooding your mouth. Mingyu's eyes widened in surprise, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the unexpected time he cummed.

Before he could react, you pressed your head down again, sucking him greedily, your mouth working to extract every last drop of his cum. His cock throbbed incessantly against your tongue, the taste of his cum mingling with your spit.

Mingyu was trembling, his moans reverberating loudly throughout the room, creating a symphony of pleasure that filled the air. With each eager movement of your mouth, he struggled to keep himself in check, resisting the urge to let his eyes roll back in ecstasy.

You sucked him with such intensity, as if you were drawing his very soul from him. The feeling was overwhelming, almost divine, as Mingyu gave himself over completely to the whirlwind of pleasure.

His fingers clawed at the sheets, his body arching towards you in a desperate plea for more. The wet noises of your mouth working him over mixed with his cries of pleasure, filling the room with a heady atmosphere.

In that moment, teetering on the edge of release, Mingyu felt like he was losing himself entirely. But with you there, guiding him through the dizzying haze of pleasure, he knew he was in the best hands possible.

Mingyu gasped for air, his body trembling with aftershocks of pleasure as he came again, filling your mouth with another wave of his release. It was a sensation unlike anything he had experienced before, his mind swimming in a haze of bliss.

For the first time in his life, Mingyu found himself climaxing twice in a matter of minutes, the intensity of his arousal overwhelming his senses. His cock softened in your mouth, spent and satisfied, as he panted heavily, trying to catch his breath.

As you continued to pump Mingyu's dick with your hands, mixing the mess of your spit and his cum together, you couldn't help but notice the way his body responded. His legs trembled beneath you, his breath hitching in short gasps as you worked him over.

With a mischievous grin, you teased him, "You want to know my fetish better, huh?"

Mingyu's response was a throaty moan, his body convulsing on the bed as you circled your palm on the sensitive head of his cock.

"You- you're driving me... crazy," he managed to gasp out between moans.

Mingyu's body convulsed on the bed, his legs trembling with the intensity of the sensation. "Oh god," he moaned, his voice hitching with pleasure as your hand worked its magic.

With each stroke, each teasing caress, Mingyu's moans grew louder, filling the room with the sweet symphony of his pleasure. And as you watched him squirm and writhe beneath you, you couldn't help but laugh softly, enjoying the delicious torture you were inflicting on him.

Feeling the knot tightening in his stomach once more, Mingyu couldn't help but roll his hips, seeking more friction, more sensation from your skilled hand. His cock, already red and sensitive from your attention, throbbed with anticipation as his stomach trembled with the intensity of his arousal.

With each roll of his hips, Mingyu's moans grew louder, more desperate, as he surrendered completely to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him. "Mmmh d-don't sto-op!" he groaned, his voice thick with need, his body quivering with every touch.

As Mingyu reached the peak of his pleasure once more, he felt the familiar surge of release wash over him. But this time, it was different. Only a small spill of cum escaped his cock, a testament to the intense arousal that had already wracked his body.

With a shuddering exhale, Mingyu's body finally began to relax, the tension melting away as the waves of pleasure subsided. He lay there, spent and satisfied, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

You watched him with a satisfied smile, your hand still resting gently on his softened cock. You lean in to kiss Mingyu, the kiss slow and sloppy as both of you catch your breath. But before you can deepen the kiss, he suddenly stops, a puzzled expression on his face.

"What's that?" Mingyu asks, his voice filled with curiosity.

Confused, you furrow your brow and follow his gaze, looking down between your bodies. Your pussy is dripping wet, the slickness coating his thigh as a glob of arousal slides down your folds.

You gasp softly, feeling a surge of arousal at the sight, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Oh, uh... I guess I'm just really turned on," you reply, your voice slightly breathless.

Mingyu's eyes darken with desire as he watches the slickness glisten on his thigh. A low, guttural moan escapes his lips, his cock twitching in response to the erotic sight.

"Fuck," he murmurs, his voice husky with need. "You're so wet, baby. Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

You bite your lip, feeling a rush of arousal at his words. "Tell me," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu's gaze flickers between your eyes and the wetness between your thighs, desire burning in his dark orbs. "You make me so hard, so fucking needy," he growls, his hand reaching out to trace a path along your slick folds. "Just seeing you like this, dripping wet and ready for me... it's driving me insane."

As Mingyu's fingers slide inside you, you can't help but squirm, a soft moan escaping your lips as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. His touch is slow and deliberate, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Mingyu holds you close, his other hand trailing soothingly along your back as he continues to move his fingers inside you. With each stroke, each tantalizing caress, the pleasure builds, spiraling higher and higher until you're teetering on the edge of release.

You moan softly into his neck, the sound muffled by the warmth of his skin as Mingyu's fingers work their magic inside you. 

As Mingyu's fingers work their magic inside you, he leans in close, his voice a low, seductive murmur against your ear.

"You like that, baby?" he breathes, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "You like feeling my fingers deep inside you, stroking you just right?"

You nod eagerly, unable to form words as pleasure courses through your veins.

Mingyu chuckles softly, the sound sending vibrations through your body. "I love watching you squirm, feeling you tighten around me," he continues, his voice husky with desire. "You're so fucking wet for me, so eager for my touch."

You whimper in response, the words sending waves of arousal crashing over you.

"I could finger you like this all night," Mingyu murmurs, his fingers moving with expert precision. "But what I really want is to feel you clench around my cock, to hear you scream my name as you come undone."

His words push you closer to the edge, the promise of his cock inside you driving you wild with need. "Ride my fingers baby…"

As Mingyu encourages you to ride his fingers, you raise yourself up to look at him, feeling a surge of excitement mingled with nervousness. "I-I'm not sure if I can..." you stutter, your voice filled with uncertainty.

But Mingyu's eyes burn with desire as he reassures you, his voice low and husky. "You can do it, baby. I know you can," he murmurs, his hand steady beneath you as his fingers remain buried deep inside you.

With a deep breath, you steady yourself, feeling a rush of determination wash over you. Slowly, you begin to move your hips, riding Mingyu's fingers with increasing confidence.

"That's it," Mingyu breathes, his voice filled with encouragement. "Feel how good you make me feel, how wet you are for me."

His words ignite a fire within you, spurring you on as you ride his fingers with abandon. Mingyu's hand remains steady beneath you, his pinky and forefinger teasing your entrance while his middle fingers curl deliciously inside you, hitting all the right spots.

As you move, a mess is made on his hand, slick with your arousal, but Mingyu doesn't seem to mind. Instead, he watches you with rapt attention, his eyes dark with desire as he waits for his cock to get harder, eager to join you in the blissful dance of pleasure.

"You look so fucking sexy riding my fingers," Mingyu groans, his voice thick with need. "I can't wait to feel you riding me just like this, taking all of me inside you."

"Are you ready for me, baby?" Mingyu whispers, his voice a sultry invitation. "Ready to take all of me, to let me fill you up completely?"

As Mingyu brushes the tip of his cock against your entrance, a shiver of anticipation runs down your spine. With a nod of confirmation, you express your readiness, your body practically trembling with excitement.

Mingyu's smile is intoxicating as he reaches down to give his cock a few more pumps, ensuring he's ready for you. With a steady hand on your hips, he guides you as you slowly lower yourself onto him.

The sensation of his cock sliding into you is exquisite, a perfect blend of pleasure and fullness that leaves you breathless. You gasp as you take him in, inch by inch, feeling him fill you up completely.

Mingyu's grip on your hips tightens as you sink down onto him, his eyes locked with yours, a mixture of desire and adoration shining in their depths. With each movement, each thrust, you feel a connection forming between you.

As you start to ride Mingyu slowly, his nails dig into your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, his head thrown back in blissful abandon.

"I'm so sensitive, even after I'm hard again," Mingyu confesses, his voice strained with pleasure. "it's like I can feel every inch of you."

His admission only fuels your desire, spurring you to move with even more purpose and intent. With each rock of your hips, you feel him deep inside you, filling you up and setting your body ablaze with pleasure.

Mingyu's hands roam eagerly over your body, exploring every curve and contour as if he can't get enough of you. His touch is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

As Mingyu's under abdomen trembled beneath you, a telltale sign that he was nearing the edge, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. His moans grew louder, more urgent, and you could see the ecstasy written all over his face as he approached the peak of pleasure.

With a wicked grin, you leaned in close, your voice dripping with desire as you began to tease him with dirty talk. "You like that, baby?" you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "You like how good I feel riding you like this?"

Mingyu's response was a guttural groan, his hands tightening on your hips as he struggled to form a coherent response. But you weren't about to let him off that easily.

"You're so close, aren't you?" you continued, your voice low and sultry. "You want to come for me, don't you?"

Mingyu's breathing grew ragged, his body trembling beneath you as he fought to hold on just a little while longer. But you weren't about to make it easy for him.

"I want to hear you say it," you murmured, your lips brushing against his skin as you whispered your command. "Tell me how badly you want to come for me. Tell me how much you need it."

And as Mingyu struggled to give you a response, his moans growing louder with each passing moment, you knew that he was teetering on the brink. 

As Mingyu surrendered completely to the overwhelming pleasure, his body convulsing with the force of his release, you couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction wash over you. His cries of ecstasy filled the air, mingling with your own moans of pleasure as you continued to ride him with unbridled passion.

"You like that, baby?" you purred, your voice dripping with desire as you felt his cock throbbing inside you. "You like how I'm overstimulating you, making you come so hard you can't even think straight?"

Mingyu's response was a choked sob, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. But you weren't about to let up, not when you were so close to your own release.

With renewed determination, you continued to ride him, your movements becoming more frantic as you chased your own pleasure. Mingyu's cries of ecstasy filled the air, driving you wild with desire as you approached the brink of your own orgasm.

And as the pleasure washed over you in a tidal wave of sensation, you cried out in ecstasy, your body shuddering with the force of your release. Mingyu's cries echoed yours, his hands trembling while he grabbed your body close. 

Your stamina remained high, fueled by the intense sex between you and Mingyu. Even after your orgasm, you continued to bounce and ride him, your body moving with a relentless energy that seemed endless.

With each movement, each thrust, you felt a surge of pleasure coursing through you, driving you ever closer to the edge once more. Mingyu's cries of pleasure spurred you on, his hands gripping your hips with tightened fingers.

But as you rode him with increasing fervor, you felt a familiar tension building within you, a wave of pleasure that threatened to consume you completely. Your legs began to tremble beneath you, weakened by the relentless onslaught of pleasure.

And then, with a cry of ecstasy, you felt it wash over you, a tidal wave of pleasure that left you trembling and breathless. Your body convulsed with the force of your orgasm, your legs giving out beneath you as you collapsed against Mingyu, spent and satisfied.

As you disentangle yourself from Mingyu's spent form, you can't help but admire the sight before you. His cock is sore and spent, body glistening with sweat, his body exuding an aura of exhaustion and satisfaction.

"Are you good?" you ask softly, concern lacing your voice as you look down at him.

Mingyu lets out a ragged breath, his chest heaving as he meets your gaze with a mixture of disbelief and awe. "You're crazy," he murmurs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

But then his expression turns serious, his eyes locking with yours as he speaks again. "Don't you dare to do this to anyone else," he says, his voice tinged with possessiveness. "Overstimulating might just become a kink of mine too, especially if it's with you."

His words send a shiver of excitement down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone igniting a fire within you. With a smirk, you lean in close, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes, Kissing

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Imagine Yandere!Zhongli in a Reverse!AU, where you're Liyue's Archon and you seal him away. Thousands of years ago, you and him were friends ruling over different sections of what would become Liyue. You hardly noticed the way his eyes lingered on you whenever he saw you, hardly knew how he would dream of having you all to himself.

One day, he makes an advance as you both sip on tea at Mount Aocang, pledging to move mountains and sink continents if you ask. The price of his eternal affection remains unsaid, but you can see it in the feral, draconic look in his eye. Every dragon has a hoard, even Zhongli. And he will stop at nothing until he can have you as his most valuable treasure.

Despite his efforts to prevent you from escaping, you manage to flee back to your territory. Weeks later, Zhongli attempts to catch you off guard with a surprise invasion, but in the heat of battle, you manage to seal him away beneath the earth.

Millenia pass, and you mourn the loss of a friend, but work to build the nation of Liyue up to the ground. The Fatui come, offering a deal for your Gnosis, and you refuse. It is a mistake you will regret every day for eternity.

One day, the earth shakes in a way that makes your stomach turn.

You feel his presence before you even catch a glimpse of his crystalline horns or golden eyes. Warm and earthy like petrichor. Running out into the city streets, you help an elderly couple around some piles of rubble, before continuing towards the source of the power.

The God of Contracts finds you first, though, easily snaring your feet in stone. His power is choking in a way, and when you try to fight back with your own magic, you feel the power in your body quickly draining from you. Zhongli notices the surprise in your face, and a small smirk plays on his lips. "I've had many years to learn some new...tricks, my treasure," he murmurs, striding towards you confidently. His fingers hook under your chin, pulling it up so your eyes gaze into his. "The people that freed me said they would let me keep you if I gave them your Gnosis."

In an instant, his hand is in your chest, grasping around for your Gnosis. You cry out in pain and try to struggle, but Zhongli grabs your shoulder in a tight grip, forcing you steady. It only takes a moment for him to pull out your Gnosis, gazing at it intently. "You cannot truly understand how long I have dreamt of this day. Of you, my dearest. And now, we will never have to be apart," he whispers, pressing his lips against yours greedily. He allows himself a few seconds to savor this scene, before pulling away.

"Now, my treasure. I wish to make a contract with you." With a wave of his hand, he manifests a piece of parchment filled with words on it out of thin air. "I will help repair all the damage I have done if you promise to be mine, in body and spirit, for better or for worse." You glare at him vehemently, spitting out your refusal. In return, Zhongli simply chuckles. "In that case, I will turn every building to dust," he threatens.

Turning to some already-damaged buildings, he raises a hand, ready to demolish them with a flick of the wrist. Your cries of acquiescence stop him before he can, however. When you finish signing, Zhongli gives you a predatory smile, brushing his fingers against the side of your face. "I knew you would surrender, my dearest," he purrs, possessiveness filling his eyes. "Now, allow me to fulfill my own contract, and then we can return home," he says.

You get the feeling that you will not be leaving home for a very long time.

[harksness]

Or also milf Agatha who’s just recently divorced ( from a man ) and kind of always had to be the “ perfect submissive wife “ so when she meets you at a bar when Wanda had dragged her to go out, all changes.

Agatha slowly learning she likes to be more in control and being such a good domme to you like AHHHHHHHHH I NEED HER TO BE MY MOMMY AGATHA SAUR BAD

PLLLSSS YOURE MAKING ME GO ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED SDJNIAGFLDJFG MOMMY AGATHA IS EXACTLY WHAT I NEED IN MY LIFE

I WENT WAAY TOO OVERBOARD W THIS ONE OOPS MY HAND SLIPPED AND I WROTE A WHOLE FIC WHEN I SAW THIS AT 2AM ?? i didnt know i had this in me atm but the horny brainrot for mommy agatha was just too real it's like that + the sleep deprivation possessed me

mommy agatha would fix all my problems in life rn i need her so bad auughghghghghghg

"I'm sure it's been a long time since you've had some fun. We need to find you some action."

Wanda winks at Agatha and the older woman rolls her eyes with a soft scoff as she raises her drink to her lips.

"Oh please, nothing with Ralph was ever fun. It was just... Sex."

Agatha sighs, a crushing feeling weighing down on her when she realizes just how miserable her life with that man was. How.. Unfulfilling.

You're told as a woman to marry a good man, be a good, submissive wife, make sure to make him happy. A few months ago Agatha came to the crashing realization that maybe what she wanted wasn't what she had been told to want her whole life.

Then she realized just how bad the sex actually was.

And she promptly filed for a divorce not long after. There wasn't much love lost on her end, the years had worn on her and she was ready for this a while ago. The only thing lost on her end was time. And she doesn't want to waste any more of it.

After confiding all of these heavy feelings to her dear friend Wanda, this was the idea she came up with to help. A popular bar in Westview.

"Okay, so.. It's your first night of freedom, of being able to decide exactly what you want for yourself and from sex. What's the first thing that pops into your head?"

Wanda smiles at her, resting her elbow on the table in front of her and plopping her head into the palm of her hand. Agatha pauses for a moment in thought.

What does she want?

Her bright blue eyes scan over the crowd of people in the dimly lit bar, hoping for the realization to smack her in the face.

"Honestly? A young, pretty girl that can help me learn a thing or two about myself.."

Agatha says plainly, and Wanda hums out in thought, eyes scanning over the crowd.

"Oh! What about her?"

Wanda points across the room, and Agatha's eyes catch on you. Her eyes widen as she takes you in. You're standing with your friends, pretty smile on your face, a tight dress hugging the curves of your body. She's eagerly drinking you in, eyes dragging over every little detail on your figure.

"You think she's cute."

Wanda giggles, and Agatha can tell that her friend is a bit tipsy.

"Oh she's more than cute."

Agatha admits, and Wanda's pushing herself out of her seat. The older woman looks up at her curiously.

"What are you doing?"

Wanda winks.

"Helping you get some fun."

"No, Wanda, not like this-"

All hope is lost. Wanda is already walking across the room towards you, navigating through the thin sea of people to reach you over at the bar. Agatha fights the urge to slump down in her seat and hide from embarrassment. If Wanda's going to be going about it like this, though, she might as well commit to the bit.

So, she pets her hair into place and straightens her posture as Wanda approaches you. She watches in horror as the two of you seem to quickly strike up a friendly conversation.

When Wanda gestures back towards where she's sitting and sipping on her drink and your eyes flicker over and land on her, Agatha's brain short circuits. You smile brightly and wave shyly over at her, and she thinks it's the cutest thing she's ever seen. Agatha leans forward and waves back.

Your friends are playfully pushing you towards the table, your features flushed red as you begin making your way towards her. When you reach the table, Agatha quirks a curious brow at you.

"Agatha, I'm guessing?"

You ask with a sheepish smile. The older woman nods her head.

"That's me, I assume my drunk friend said some very embarrassing things about me that somehow charmed you into coming over here?"

You laugh softly at her words, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Agatha feels her throat go dry, and she's raising her glass to her lips.

"Oh, yes, definitely. But I was more charmed when I looked over here at you."

Agatha grins up at you, butterflies making a fuss in her stomach.

"Do you want to sit with me?"

Eagerly you nod your head, and Agatha scoots over, wanting you to sit close to her. She gestures at the space she just made, hoping you'll slide in right next to her. And you do.

You tell her your name, what college you go to and what you're studying. You make fun, light small talk for a bit, enjoying getting to know each other. You share all of the embarassing things Wanda shared about her with a cute giggle, and Agatha can't even be mad because it got you to come over and sit with her.

Agatha insists on buying you a drink, and you're being so polite and insisting it's okay, you don't want her spending money on expensive cocktails for some girl she's only known for a few minutes. You keep trying to pull out your wallet when she quirks a brow at your politeness.

"Sweetheart, you're a college student. I'm assuming you don't have a ton of money lying around. Now, I do, so be a good girl and let me treat the sweet, cute little thing I'm growing rather fond of to something nice, hm?"

You freeze at her words, eyes wide, and Agatha's worried she screwed up with her forwardness. But a bright smile crosses your features, cheeks flushing as you fold your hands in your lap and nod your head.

"Y-yeah, I mean, if you insist.. Thank you very much."

You stumble through your words, and she notices how you cross your legs. Agatha feels something swirling in her chest, a bit of an ache growing between her legs at your shy compliance. A smile grows on her lips as she orders your favorite cocktail for you.

Agatha decides to be a little more bold.

"Oh, anything for you, honey.."

She coos, breath hot against your neck as she leans in and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. A smirk grows on her lips at the way you squirm, her eyes glancing down towards your chest as you heave in a deep breath.

"Is there anything else you'd like me to do for you, hm?"

Agatha asks sweetly, one of her hands landing on your exposed thigh, squeezing the soft skin gently, giving you a chance to tell her to back off if you wanted to. She watches you hopefully.

You laugh shyly, nervously meeting her gaze. You part your lips to speak when the waiter sets your drink down in front of you, severing the tension like a knife. Agatha goes to pull her hand away, disappointment weighing heavy in her gut when your hand darts out to grab hers.

"W-wait.."

You mumble and Agatha's grinning excitedly.

"I mean.. You're just- like, really hot.. It's flustering me a bit.."

Your face is flushed deep red, your gaze avoiding hers.

"So you're okay with this?"

She asks, and you nod your head. She tsk's at you, raising a hand and hooking her finger under your chin as she guides you to look at her.

"Use your words, baby."

Your pupils blow wide at her words, gaze heavy with lust as your eyes flicker down to her lips.

"Yes. Yeah, I'm really okay with this.."

You mutter out softly and Agatha smiles.

"Good girl."

She melts at the way you gasp when her lips connect with yours. It's soft and sweet, and immediately you're returning her kiss, lips moving eagerly against one another. Agatha already feels addicted to your soft, sweet mouth.

You pull back first, and she's disappointed.

"Do you want to leave?"

The disappointment is quickly replaced with excitement.

"I'd love to. Would you be alright going to my place?"

You nod your head and quickly the two of you are out of there, abandoning your untouched drink on the table. Agatha is holding your hand, guiding you through and out the back of the building as you go to the back parking lot.

It's dark out, the cool night air chilling you skin as you wind between the parked cars, the lights of Agatha's car flickering as she unlocks it.

You tug softly on her hand and she turns to look at you.

"Please, kiss me again.."

You beg so sweetly for her, she's giving you what you want before she even realizes it. Agatha grabs you by the hips, fingers biting softly into your plush skin as she presses you against the side of the car. You gasp at the force, moaning softly as she presses her lips firmly into yours.

She's eager to tear more desperate words out of your mouth. It's the only thing on her mind as she nips at your bottom lip, you snaking your arms up and around her neck to pull her closer into you.

You're letting out little muffled noises into her mouth and she's in heaven, dropping her head to pepper lingering wet kisses against the column of your throat. You let out a sharp sigh.

"Fuck, you're so hot.."

Agatha groans against your skin and you let out a pathetic whimper. She raises her knee between your legs, pressing up and against your center. A moan tears out of your throat as your hands scramble to dig into her back, and Agatha feels dizzy at the look on your face. Your pretty plush lips parted so sweetly, bright eyes lidded over with desire just for her.

Oh, Agatha very quickly figured out what she wants.

She wants you, whimpering and begging and falling apart for her.

You can't control yourself as you start to softly grind against her thigh, rocking your hips back and forth as your teeth dig into your bottom lip. Agatha laughs softly as she leans down to pepper more kisses across your neck.

"Oh? Did I really work you up in the bar?"

She asks, a taunting edge to her voice. You nod your head.

"Use your words, pretty girl.."

Agatha coos, chest swelling at how eager you are to obey her.

"Fuck, yes.. I don't want to wait.."

You whimper out pathetically as you squirm against her thigh, moonlight highlighting your desperate features so beautifully for Agatha. She smirks down at you, raising a hand to cup your cheek.

Her thumb traces over your bottom lip, softly tugging it down and pressing on it before she releases it. Agatha wants to bite your bottom lip, dig her teeth in and have you gasping in pain and pleasure into her mouth so she can swallow every sweet noise you make and have it be part of her forever.

When she raises the digit once again you eagerly part your lips for her. Her smile widens as she traces the outline of your lips with her thumb before pushing it past your lips and into your mouth.

Agatha lets out a hard, controlled breath at the feeling of your hot, wet mouth wrapped around her thumb. Sucking her, pulling her in as your cheeks cave in but you hold her gaze. She leans further into you, grinding her thigh up into your wet cunt. You whimper around her thumb.

Agatha drags the digit out of your mouth, smearing your spit across your bottom lip.

"What do you want?"

She asks lowly, and you moan.

"Fuck, please, please just fuck me in your car. I don't wanna wait."

The teasing has reached its breaking point, you throw your head back and it softly thumps against the car. Agatha grins down at you, cooing softly as she affectionately runs her fingers over your cheek.

"Of course, sweet pea.."

Dropping her leg from between your thighs, the two of you take a step back so she can open the back door. Agatha gestures you in first, and you crawl over the smooth leather seats to the other side in order to make room for her.

She's following close behind, the car swaying a bit with how forcefully she slams the door shut. With a soft click, Agatha ensures the doors are locked and the two of you are secure inside.

You're laying back on the seats, propped up on your elbows as Agatha climbs over you, hungrily drinking you in.

"Fuck, what do you want me to do for you?"

Agatha breathes the words against your neck, her hands desperately roaming over your body, feeling electric with her need to touch you.

"I want you to do whatever you want to me.. Please.."

You beg and her brain short circuits. She can do whatever she wants to you? Her mind starts flying through the endless possibilities, eyes flickering over your body in hungry passes as she tries to make up her mind.

"First, lets take this off.."

Agatha tugs on your dress and you're eager to comply, she helps you pull down the zipper and your lift your hips up off the seat as the two of you get it over your head, leaving you in your underwear before her, laying on the cold leather seats.

She kneels between your spread legs, ghosting her hands over your soft thighs as she admires you spread out before her, your perfect, beautiful body lay ready for her to use however she pleases.

Agatha licks her lips before she leans down, leaving kisses all up your neck before moving down to your collarbone, littering it with more kisses that have you rubbing your thighs together before she moves downwards.

She eyes your breasts hungrily. Pushing the bra straps from your shoulders, she pulls the cups down and frees your chest, an excited sigh dropping past her lips as she dives in for them.

You immediately begin to whimper and squirm under her treatment, one hand eagerly pawing at your right breast while she runs her tongue all over your left, desperate to taste every inch of your skin.

Eventually she moves to your nipple, taking it into her mouth and eagerly sucking. You arch your back, a sharp gasp escaping your lips at the action. With a soft pop she releases the bud, running the tip of her tongue along it in apologetic passes.

She spends so long worshipping your breasts that your voice grows hoarse, eventually you're pawing and clawing at her desperately.

"Hm?"

Agatha asks, licking her lips as she raises her head from your chest, brown curls wild with how they're falling in disarray from her bun. You're shaking, whimpering pathetically.

"Please, please.. Touch me, Agatha..."

You hadn't noticed the tears that had welled in your eyes and she coos softly down at you, running her fingers along your cheek.

"I'm so sorry sweet girl.. I promise I'll take good care of you.."

She whispers the words apologetically against your cheek, leaving soft kisses on your skin. You nod your head before she continues downward, licking a stripe down your sternum before planting kisses on the soft skin of your tummy, dragging her lips over each of your hips as she hungrily kneads at your thighs.

The woman is crawling back on the seats, lowering herself so that she's between your thighs, licking her lips hungrily as she pulls your underwear to the side. You can't help but feel a bit flushed and embarrassed under her intense gaze, all while loving every second her adoring blue eyes are focused on you.

Immediately when her mouth latches onto your center, your eyes roll into the back of your head, your hands scrambling for purchase on the door behind you as you let out a loud, desperate moan.

"Shit.. Feels so good.."

You whimper, her mouth hot between your legs, messily running her tongue between your wet folds as she groans into you. It already feels so intense, and you know you won't last long as she begins to sloppily assault your clit.

The woman quickly figured out the question she had at the beginning of the night. This is exactly what she wants. A pretty little thing like you, so eager and pliant and willing to take whatever she gives.

It makes her shift, clenching her thighs at just how fucking turned on she is seeing you fall apart beneath her, for her. Every little moan, every word, every tremble and gasp and every bit of sweetness that spills between your thighs is all just for her in this moment, and she's hooked. She can't get enough

Agatha moves her hands to paw at the plush of your thighs, an ache growing between her legs she's never experienced before as she watches you whimper and moan out desperately for her.

Your features scrunch up, mouth hung open in pleasure as she alternates between sloppily sucking and running the flat of her tongue along the little bud.

She grins against you as she feels your thighs begin to tremble against the sides of her head, desperate, breathy noises spilling past your pretty lips as you scramble for purchase, your back arching with every jolt of pleasure that shoots through you.

She groans into you, thinking that she would be happy to suffocate between your soft thighs. As she digs her fingers into your hips and pulls you against her eager mouth, a gasp escaping your lips as the sound of your soft curses reach her ears.

The older woman leans back, and you nearly die at the sight of her pushing her wild brown hair out of her face with the back of her hand as she licks you off of her lips, humming at the taste.

She leans forward, pressing her cheek against your knee as she looks down at you with adoring blue eyes.

"Fuck, you're so pretty, baby.."

Agatha coos down at you, soft smile on her lips as she raises her fingers up to the wet mess between your thighs. You let out a desperate, wanton noise, scrambling to grab at her forearm as she drags her fingers through your folds, taking her sweet time to feel you and toy with you. Her eyes flicker over your glistening center to your pretty face, distorted with pleasure as you thrash against the seats.

"Are you doing okay, sweet girl?"

She asks mockingly, loving the feeling of your nails biting into her forearm. You twist beneath her, writhing in pleasure as you press the side of your face against the leather seat, hair spread in disarray like a halo around your head.

"Yes! Yes, please don't stop.. So good, Mommy.."

You sound so pathetic as the words escape your lips in a broken wheeze, and something snaps in Agatha when you call her that. She thought she couldn't get any more worked up and desperately horny then she already is but fuck, you keep surprising her.

"Call me that again.."

She demands, high on her power over you as she drags her soaked fingers back, carefully easing them into you. You groan out at the stretch, at the intrusion of her long, slender fingers easing you open and sliding deep inside of you.

"Mommy.. Please fuck me.. You're so good to me, Mommy, I need more.."

You didn't even hesitate to obey her, turning to look up at her with your wide, pretty eyes drunk on pleasure.

Your desperate, broken voice has her responding automatically to your pleas for her, carefully curling her long, slender finger as she fucks her hand into your sopping pussy. You're so wet and messy, there's a soft squelching noise with every thrust.

Agatha loves it. You whimper, embarrassed.

"M' sorry.. A-ah.."

You try to apologize, finding yourself unable as you throw your head back in pleasure, so sensitive under her calculated movements. She's smirking down at you, leaning forward and over you with her fingers still buried in your wet cunt.

"Oh, you have nothing to be sorry for, angel.. You're absolutely perfect.."

She sighs against your neck, running her tongue along the column of your throat, enjoying the taste of your salty sweat on her tongue as she carefully slips a second finger into you. You let out a loud noise, hand flying to pull at the shirt on her back as she stretches you out, curling her fingers up to hit that sweet spot inside of you with every careful thrust.

"You got such a perfect pussy.. Mommy can't get enough.."

Agatha breathes the words hotly against your neck, her palm soaked with your arousal as she grinds it up against your clit, harshly rubbing against the little nub.

"O-oh! Shit! Fuck!"

You curse, the sensitivity getting to you. You curl your legs up and over her hips, pulling her down into you, as close as you can possibly get her and Agatha moans, her hand trapped inside of you between your two bodies as she grinds her palm against your sensitive clit.

She laughs breathily down at you before leaning down to pepper kisses up your jaw and across your pretty face.

"C'mon baby.. Be a good girl and cum for Mommy.."

The way she speaks those words so hotly against your ear, her warm breath fanning over your skin and words dripping with want and arousal, it's what tips you over the edge.

You let out a loud, broken moan as you wrap your arms around her back, pulling her tightly against you.

You throw your head back as the words burst past your lips in a desperate shout, your mind barely coherent as everything around you goes static and you seize up around the older woman.

"Oh! Mommy, cumming!"

Agatha groans at the sight of you, how you squeeze and drip around her fingers that are buried all the way to the last knuckle inside of your pussy, the heaving of your chest and how your pretty features contort in pleasure, mind numb and lost under the onslaught of pleasure that she gave you.. That she's responsible for.

Pride swells in her chest as she guides you through it, whispering soft little praises into your skin as you tremble and slowly come down from your high. With a deep gasp for air your legs fall numbly from around her waist, and Agatha leans back slightly to look at you as she carefully pulls her hand from you.

You laugh breathily, heaving for air as a wide smile crosses your features. Agatha smiles down at you as you raise your hand, pushing your messy hair from your features.

"Holy shit.. You're- wow."

You breathe out, dropping your hand to look up at her. She purses her lips proudly.

"Mmm.. I could say the same thing about you."

The older woman winks down at you, hair messy and sticking out at odd angles. Her stunning blue eyes are pinned right on you, and you don't think you could ever get enough of her gaze lingering on you.

"I barely did anything!"

You laugh and Agatha shakes her head.

"You were perfect."

Your heart swells at her words, and Agatha raises her hand. You flush at how soaked her fingers are, your arousal dripping down her palm and to her wrist. She raises it to her mouth, holding your gaze as she licks you off of her hand, dragging her tongue from her wrist, up her palm and to the tip of her fingers. Your chest heaves at the sight.

"You taste absolutely amazing."

She smirks down at you, and you smile sheepishly, pushing yourself up onto your forearms.

"Well.. Is there anything I can do to say thank you, Mommy?"

You bat your eyelashes at her sweetly, and her gaze flickers to your soft mouth, her mind running so far ahead of her with everything she wants to do with you that she can't keep up.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Jacaerys returns to Dragonstone after spending some time in Winterfell. He comes back looking differently…and has learned some new things 😏👅🐱

Request: 9 for Jacee ‘’Where have you learned to do that?’’

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), slight fingering, assumption of cheating

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Months have gone by since the prince Jacaerys left for Winterfell to gain House Stark and the North for the cause of his mother, Queen Rhaenyra. His visit should have been a short one, but Cregan Stark insisted he spent more time in the North. According to his letter, Lord Stark had taken a liking to him and wanted Jacaerys to get a true experience of the North. He said that getting closer to the northmen would help gain their support. 

Life on Dragonstone was lonely without him. A part of yourself was missing. 

You spent time with Baela and Rhaena, helped Lucerys get more confident with his dragon, played with Joffrey when no one would. You were in the early stages of a civil war, the adults didn’t have much time for the young boy. The Queen was grateful for your help. 

A few days ago, after you got back from riding your dragon, a raven came from Winterfell — a new message from Jacaerys saying he should be expected to return in the late afternoon. 

Excitement bubbled in your stomach. 

Rushing to your chamber, you didn't want to greet him smelling of dragon. You shed your riding clothes as a handmaid helped you fill your tub with hot water. She added rose oil to make your skin soft and you made sure to scrub extra hard with the brush. You wanted to look nice for Jacaerys. 

After bathing, you put on a clean dress and asked Baela for help with your hair. She was the best at braiding. 

‘’Do you think he missed me while he was away?’’ 

Behind you, Baela chuckled as she twisted your braids and pinned them. ‘’I wouldn't doubt it, Lady Y/N.’’ 

Hearing a dragon's roar, you jumped and went to your window. The air was gloomy, making it difficult to see through the horizon. You bit your lip, searching for an olive green shape. Although he was a small dragon, Vermax’s red wings were easy to discern in the skies.

You glanced over your shoulder to Baela. ‘’They’re here.’’ 

She finished your hair, ensuring every strand fell perfectly in place, and you descended the stairs with Baela on your tracks. 

As you reached the great hall, you saw the Queen and her children standing near the painted table, accompanied by a hubbub of voices. Lucerys talked animatedly about sword practice while a very excited Joffrey was jumping on his feet, excited to see his big brother. Rhaenyra told them to quiet down and give Jacaerys some air, which made you laugh. 

The sound caught their attention, and Jacaerys' eyes shifted to you. 

He had grown since he left — his shoulders broader, his stature more commanding. His once pin-straight hair now cascaded in soft curls that framed his face perfectly. He looked nothing like a Targaryen anymore. 

‘’Jace,’’ you whispered, a smile lighting up your face as you approached him.

For supper, a small feast was held in his honor. Daemon and Rhaena joined you for the meal, raising their cup to Jacaerys’ return. 

When the hour started to get late, you and Jacaerys retired to your chamber. Half-way there up the stairs, he pulled you into a corner of the staircase and kissed you the way he had been dying to since he got back. You pulled a moan out of him when your teeth glided against his bottom lip, and circled your arms around his neck as his hands were gripping your hips with a strength that was new. 

A voice came from the staircase below — probably one of the servants —, prying the two of you apart. You giggled against Jacaerys' shoulder. 

Once you reached the privacy of your chamber, Jacaerys shut the door and drew you to him again as he kissed along your jaw and down your neck. You moaned under the touch of his mouth, melting against him as your fingers worked on each other’s clothes, pulling at the laces and buckles until they fell off your bodies and onto the floor.

You tried to not step on your dress as you walked back to the bed, then let your shift slip down your shoulders and pool at your feet, leaving you fully naked. 

‘’Gods.’’ 

You blushed as Jacaerys followed down your neck to between your legs, taking his time to admire your body. You had never felt truly desired before him. Only objectified — as were all women in Westeros.  

‘’Do you like what you see, my Prince?’’ you asked, his eyes finding their way back to yours. 

Jacaerys didn’t respond. All he did was gently push you down into the bed. 

You expected him to get on the bed too, but to your surprise, he kneeled at the end of it and pulled you close to the edge. A frown drew between your eyebrows as you looked down. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing on the floor, but the words got caught in your throat as Jacaerys kissed the inside of your thighs. 

It was something new, but not disagreeable.  

Then, he pushed your thighs further apart and pressed the sweetest kiss right over your slit, causing you to squirm. 

‘’Jace, what are you—’’

Your question died on your tongue as he peaked out and flicked your clit, sending a jolting sensation up your core. Jacaerys didn't stop there — he was far from finished with you. He laid his tongue flat and licked a fat strip up your entrance to your clit, stirring a gasp from your lips. 

Your reaction made him smile, encouraging him to pursue. He took a second lick of your cunt, then captured your clit between his lips to suckle at. You let out a mewl of pleasure, your hand traveling down your body to clutch at Jacaerys's soft hair. He alternated between sucking and licking at you, the room filling with obscene noises as your legs tightened on each side of his face, caging him. 

Releasing your clit, Jacaerys slid his tongue between your folds, tasting your arousal on his tongue. You've had his fingers inside you, but never his tongue. Arching your back, you pushed against his face, asking for more. And Jacaerys was happy to give it to you, adding a finger to the mix and pushing deeper inside you.

With your free hand, you clutched the sheets, biting your lips and holding back the moans that wanted to slip out. Had Lucerys’s bedchamber not been so close to yours, you would not have held them back. But y0u didn’t wish to scar his young ears. The poor boy would not be able to look you in the eyes again. 

Jacaerys withdrew his tongue and added a second finger, moving the former back to your clit and making a slobbering mess all over you. 

The rush of pleasure filling your body intensified and you rolled your hips into his face with abandon as your orgasm snapped. Your husband’s name left your lips in a delicate whimper, throwing your head back as he lapped at you, taking everything you were giving him. 

Easing your hands off his hair, you slowed your hips down. 

Jacaerys took the cue and left your pussy alone. 

‘’Where did you learn that?’’ you asked, looking down between your legs as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

He rose to his feet and fell back on the bed with you. ‘’The North.’’ 

Your heart sank, and a knot formed in your stomach. Thoughts raced through your mind, thinking he had bedded another woman. You would have never thought that he would commit infidelity.

Seeing the concern etched across your face, Jacaerys reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring. ‘’No,’’ he said softly, his eyes searching yours for understanding. ‘’Not…’’ He shook his head. ‘’Never.’’ 

His words washed over you like a wave of relief.

‘’Northmen, when they get drunk, they talk a lot. About their hunts, about their horses, about the things they do to their women in bed. I didn’t know women could be kissed there, but I wanted to try it. Did you…did you enjoy it?’’ 

A smile curled on your lips as you looked at him. His physique may have changed while he was in the North, but inside, he was the same nervous boy you wed in the spring. 

You nodded slowly. ‘’Can you do it again?’’

—

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