#thank you so much for sending me something!
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
lockefanfic · 13 hours ago
Text
Last Chance
Tumblr media
“Come over?”
You knew what the message meant, what she was asking for. What else could she mean, sending you that text at near midnight on a Friday night? 
The night air is crisp as you leave your friend’s apartment, where his yearly Inbetween-Christmas-and-New-Years party was raging. It seemed to only get colder as you stood on the sidewalk waiting for your ride, and the Uber driver’s seeming reluctance to crank up the heat in his car meant that the ride across town to her apartment was almost equally as chilly. 
Her building was a lot warmer, thankfully, and when she opens the door and greets you with a smile she gives you all the warmth you need.
“Come in,” Chou Tzuyu says with a small wave of her hand and nod of her head. “Drink?”
“I’ve had plenty at the party,” you admit, “but wouldn’t say no to water.”
“Good choice,” she says with a sly smile, cracking open her fridge to pull out a jug. “Gotta stay hydrated.”
You watch as she pours you a glass, her back turned to you as you enter her small but nicely furnished kitchen. She’s wearing a short, tight t-shirt and what were probably the tiniest pair of green cotton shorts known to man. The fit left much of her midsection and all of her long, shapely legs bare, highlighting the wideness of her hips and the fullness of her thighs. You hadn’t thought it possible, but she almost looked as attractive with the flimsy scraps of cotton on her as she did without them.
She hands you your glass of water, tapping it with her own as you both take sips and step into her living room. 
“Had a real shitty week,” she says, unprompted, as though she somehow felt the need to justify calling you over on a Friday night, felt the need to justify what the both of you were about to do. “Kind of need to blow off some steam.”
“Fair enough. Work again?”
“Yeah,” she says with a sigh under her breath, leaning against the arm of her couch, where you join her. “Big project due next week that’s kept me at the office most nights. And…”
“And?”
“There’s this guy.”
You sigh, inwardly, hiding your reaction behind another sip of water. You feel a sting somewhere in the depths of your heart, one you do your best to keep hidden behind the barrier of nonchalance that you’d worked hard to maintain with her.
“Oh?” you manage.
“Co-worker,” she says, softly, after another sip. “Yeah, yeah, I know, ‘don’t date co-workers.’ But I’m pretty sure he’s into me, y’know? And I’ve been into him since, well, forever ago. But I’m so frustrated, because he won’t make a fucking move, no matter how many signals I send his way.”
“...and you’re into him?” you ask, even as the words hurt to say.
She fumbles a bit with the glass in her hand, staring down at it as though she were looking for the answer to your question in the transparent liquid that it contained.
“Well, yeah,” she admits. “I know I should really keep it professional, considering how long we’ve been working together and how much I rely on him at work, but… I dunno. I dunno what to make of it, that’s all. I just wish he’d call me or something, get it over with, one way or another. Was kind of hoping he’d ask me out over the holidays, but nothing.”
“Ah,” you admit. “Maybe he’s just not into girls that aren’t hot enough to be invited to  Inbetween-Christmas-And-New-Year’s parties,” you tease. “I wouldn’t be either, to be honest.”
Tzuyu smirks and gives you a playful swat on the arm, the smirk turning into a warm smile. “Thanks for coming over,” she says, softly. “I need this.”
“I mean, I had to leave an above average Inbetween-Christmas-and-New-Year’s party because my moderately attractive friend across town needs my dick in her so she can get over some guy at work, but sure, I guess I kinda need it too.”
Tzuyu giggles - a soft, musical sound you never tired of hearing. 
She locks eyes with you for a moment, and in that split second you feel disarmed, as though she sees right through you, right through the humor and sarcasm and other defenses you’d put up to keep her from seeing the real you. You worry, for a moment, that she sees right through your sarcastic, aloof facade you forced yourself to wear lest she see how you really felt about her.
The moment is fleeting, though, and after she takes your glass of water and places it on the coffee table next to hers, the look you find in her eyes is altogether different. There’s hunger there now, and need.
She pulls you to your feet, wraps her arms around your neck, and your heart stops beating for a moment when your lips touch. 
Gentle, soft at first, as it always was, because despite being friends with benefits for a year or so and friends for much longer you both never quite got over that initial awkwardness, those odd, clumsy moments when you both knew what you wanted but weren’t quite sure how to go about initiating the process to get it.
You liked to think it was because you were both hopeless romantics at heart, and something within you both thought that sex without the feelings was beneath you, was something only indulged in by desperate single people who couldn’t get into a relationship to save their lives. Perhaps it was because neither of you wanted to be the one to admit, at least on the outside, that this was just for pleasure, that you were using a friend for an orgasm or two and that was it, end of story, we now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.
But the feeling quickly fades amidst the feel of another body pressed to yours, and soon the kiss becomes heated. Tongues dance, mouths open, your lips crush against each other. Your hands roam - yours around that tiny waist of hers, hers around your neck, fingers furrowing into the hair at the back of your neck. You pull her against you and her body molds to yours, warm and soft and pliant.
You break the kiss, eager to have more of her, your heart pounding now, so loud you fear she might hear it pounding out of your chest. She gasps as you dive into her neck, her hands weaving further into your hair, nails digging into your scalp. She tilts her head to the side, gives more of herself to you.
“Fuck,” she hisses, between gritted teeth. “Fuck. Need this.”
You devour her neck, finding and fixating on those sensitive spots where you knew she loved to be kissed. Your hands slide up her back and cup her ass and you’re thankful again that she decided to wear such a flimsy outfit that did little to hide the wonders of her body. 
She pulls away for a moment to pull her shirt up and over her head and she’s topless now, her hands working on your own clothes and divesting you of your button-up and t-shirt you wore beneath it. You come together again and the thrill of her soft, warm breasts pressing against your chest takes the breath away from your mouth for a moment, even as she covers your newly breathless lips with a kiss. The stiff peaks of her nipples press against you, tight and needy, sending a shiver up your spine.
You reach down, pick her up with your hands beneath her ass - and she giggles again as you carry her toward her bedroom. Her legs wrap themselves around your waist, her arms around your neck, but she weighs nothing against the need for her that gives you all the strength you need. She’s smiling and laughing and she’s everything you could ever want, right there in your arms.
She’s yours, and she’s not.
You drop her onto her bed, where her landing gives those small, perfect breasts of hers a delightful looking bounce. Your eyes find hers and for a moment, a split second, you’re afraid again - that she can see right through you, find the way you really feel about her beyond the hunger and lust and need. 
Because Chou Tzuyu is perfect - when she’s topless on her bed, lips slightly parted, eyes hooded, yes - but she was also perfect when you met her in your senior-level psychology lecture, perfect when you helped her move into this very apartment, perfect when you went out for dinner after she landed her first big job in her field; the very same one where she’d meet the guy she was apparently so very into, the same guy you most decidedly were not, the same guy you were apparently a substitute for on a lonely Friday night.
You need her - that perfect, tight body, the wide hips and full thighs, the round, perky breasts and the beautiful smile - but in ways beyond the physical. You need her beyond lonely weeknights and 2am weekend hookups. You need her for Sunday mornings at the grocery store where you both plan your lunches for the week, you need her for vacations in Fukuoka and Amsterdam and Vancouver. You need her for random, candid photos on your phone during a coffee date where she believes, ridiculously, that she were anything less than perfect in your eyes.
But she’s not yours - at least, not in the way you would like. She’s half-naked on her bed and you’re between her spread thighs and she’s looking at you like she wants to devour you whole and somehow, someway, that’s not enough. It would never be enough. But it’s all you have. It’s all she can give you.
You bend to kiss her, and being past that clumsy, awkward initial phase, the kiss is heated, passionate. It’s also a short one, because the rest of her body beckoned, and you didn’t possess the patience or self-control to deny yourself what was yours to take. You indulge in the delights of Chou Tzuyu’s body because it’s a distraction from the feelings that you fear might take over if you indulge them, if you let yourself dream about what your life would be like if she weren’t just a friend, weren’t just a Friday night fuck.
You kiss a path down her neck, to her sharp, prominent collarbones, each soft peck eliciting a little gasp or hiss from her lips. When you reach her breasts she’s practically begging, back arched off the mattress, desperate to have your mouth on her. She loved having your hands on her small mounds, your lips locked over her nipples, licking and sucking. Smaller boobs are more sensitive, she’d said once, only half-jokingly, and you never forgot it.
You give her what she wants - what you both want. Your mouth latches on to one breast, lips closing over her tight nipple and sucking, licking, lightly biting.
Tzuyu moans - a long, languid sound of pleasure, her loudest of the night. You never tired of hearing the pleasure leaving her lips in long, wordless drawls. It was like music. It was a song that only she knew the lyrics to, that she performed only for you, and you never tired of hearing it play.
Your mouth and hand swap, your lips latching tightly to her other nipple while you squeeze the other one with an open palm, relishing the feel of the soft flesh beneath your fingers. 
You spend a little longer on her right breast, because you knew it was somehow more sensitive than the other one - just another of those small things you knew about her body that no one else did. Another fact about Chou Tzuyu that belonged just to you, that you held tight against your chest and treasured greedily. You loved knowing that you knew things about her body no one else did. 
You loved knowing that you were the only one who knew these dirty, filthy little things about her, and that you were the only man on earth she trusted with them. The thought of sharing that knowledge with another man - or even worse, of losing access to it altogether, having it taken away from you by some random asshole who didn’t know these things, hadn’t worked to learn them - made you feel something dark and upsetting, something between fear and anger.
Tzuyu is a moaning and sighing mess now, her legs wrapped around your lower back, her own back arching up and off the mattress in an attempt to offer more of her body to you. Her nails dig little spikes of pain into your scalp with each suckle you draw from her nipple. Her thighs part even further and you feel the warmth between them pressing against your belly, even through the green shorts riding up her hips. She moans and writhes beneath you and if you’d spent the rest of the night with her breasts in your mouth and under your palms you would’ve been satisfied with that alone.
But she has other ideas - wants more, craves more. The fingers she’s woven into your hair push you downward. You release her stiffened nipple from between your lips with a pop, gazing up momentarily to find her looking back at you, cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded, a sigh on her lips. Their corners perk up in a barely noticeable, shy little smile.
Her tongue darts out, moistens her full pink lips, and you catch the unspoken request.
You bend your head again, returning your lips to her skin, starting a trail down her flat stomach, taking care to press a soft kiss on that cute belly button of hers. You open your eyes to watch her abs flex with every movement, delighting in the sight and feel of the tight muscle beneath the perfect, creamy skin. Hers was a body she’d spent many long hours in the gym and pilates studio for, and you were more than happy to make sure she knew how worth it it all was.
You reach her shorts, eventually - the flimsy strip of soft green cotton that was just barely enough to provide her with some measure of modesty. You take a moment to admire the way they sat on her hips, the way her full, flushed thighs look spread beneath them. She squirms under your gaze, her hips searching for friction, begging you to get them off her.
Your patience outlasts hers, because she’s the one to reach for the buttons keeping the shorts closed. You consider stopping her and undoing the buttons yourself, but there is a part of you that needs to see her undress herself for you, needs to watch her reveal her most intimate parts to you and you alone.
Thin, dainty fingers make quick work of the button, and she raises her hips, hooking her thumbs into the waistband and pulling them off her hips. You make way as she pulls the shorts off the long, endless length of her legs. She tosses them aside, over the side of the bed, where for all intents and purposes they cease to exist.
Her thighs remain tight together for a moment, only a few moments - and in those seconds her eyes are locked on yours, capturing and holding every ounce of your attention. Her thighs part, her legs spread and allow you back between them, but your eyes hold her gaze regardless. Her eyes tell you she wants you to relish the way she looks, naked and vulnerable, her body spread and laid out for you to take, to make yours for the rest of the night.
“Fuck, Tzuyu,” you mumble, unable to really say anything more than her name.
She smirks, those wonderful lips of hers curling into a smile. Without further word she grasps your skull with her palms and gently pushes you down towards her waiting pussy.
Her cunt is beautiful, like the rest of her - flushed and pink and glistening in the soft light of her bedroom, the insides of her thighs already moist with her juices. You bend down and give her a long, slow lick from the base of her opening to the top. The taste of her floods your palette just as the sound of the gasp that leaves her lungs fills your ears - a sound that is quickly muffled by the closing of her warm, moist thighs around your cheeks and face.
You do it again, give her another lick from bottom to top, then a third. You swirl her juices around on your tongue, relishing the taste of her. She’s squirming now, writhing, waiting for you to really commit to pleasuring her, her back arching and her nails digging more incessantly into your scalp.
You take a glance up at her - a viewpoint that you were truly blessed to bear witness to - past the flat planes of her stomach, between her heaving breasts, and finally to her face, flushed and pink, lower lip tucked under teeth, eyes fixed on you. She does it again - communicates her need without words, telling you, begging you, to give her the pleasure she so desperately needed. 
And so you do, bending and closing your lips around the tender bud of her clit, your tongue darting out softly, gently, avoiding the sensitive nub and instead licking around it, tracing soft, slow circles around it, just the way you knew she liked. 
The wordless song that has been leaving her mouth all night hits a higher tone, another octave as you work her over with your tongue. Everything intensifies for Tzuyu - the pleasure coursing up her spine, the wetness between her legs, the volume of the moans leaving her mouth. Her head falls back, eyes shutting, mouth now permanently ajar.
It intensifies for you, too - the pinpricks of irritation her nails are digging into your scalp become painful nails, the wet warmth of her thighs closes ever more around your cheeks, and the slick wetness of her cunt increases, making your lips and chin slick. You continue to swirl your tongue around the tender flesh surrounding her clit, neither increasing nor decreasing in pace - simply maintaining your current one, knowing from experience what made her body work, what would give her the most pleasure.
Tzuyu becomes a mewling, quivering mess beneath your tongue. The moans and profanities leaving her lips continue unabated. She forces herself every now and then to open her eyes, glance down at the top of your head nestled between her spread legs, the mere sight of you there, in her most intimate area with your lips around her clit, enough to send yet another spike of pleasure up her spine and into her addled brain. 
“God, fuck, that feels so good,” she manages to gasp, her brain barely able to form recognizable words out of the stream of sounds leaving her mouth. “Fuck, keep going.”
You knew where exactly where she was, what level of pleasure she was experiencing - knowledge that was the product of many a night doing exactly this, pleasuring her just the way you were now. You knew that she was right there, dangling on the precipice, and that she needed just that one last nudge, one last push.
You slip your right hand from where it was wrapped around her thigh, sliding it beneath her, bringing your fingertips to her drenched opening. She gasps as she feels your fingertips at her thus far neglected entrance, knowing what it means, knowing what is about to come. You can almost feel her pussy writhe and ripple around your fingers, now a knuckle deep, urging you, begging you deeper.
“Please,” she gasps, and you oblige. You slide your index and middle fingers inside her, palm up, and the effect on her body is immediate. Her moans cut out, her entire body goes rigid for a moment, as though shocked by lightning. The silence left by the cessation of her moans leaves only the sound of her body writhing on the bed to fill your ears, along with the wet slickness of your fingers moving inside her.
Throughout it all your tongue is swirling around her clit, merciless, unwavering in its pace and depth and pressure. Your fingers are ones pushing her, upping stakes, sliding slowly deeper inside her slickness, curling upward, searching, finding, then teasing.
It takes only a few seconds of your fingertips grazing that most sensitive part of her before Tzuyu orgasms, taking herself by surprise almost as it did you. Her world explodes, her body goes stiff, her eyes shut and for a few wonderful moments all she sees is stars.
You almost have to fight to hold her down with your free hand flat on her tense belly lest your mouth lose contact with her spasming cunt. You fight to keep your tongue and fingers moving, if at a slightly slower pace, letting her ride it out, letting her feel and relish every second of the pleasure coursing its way through every fibre of her being. She’s quiet through it all, mouth frozen in a silent scream, which was rare - she was usually one to announce and talk through her pleasure, but here she was, rendered unable to even moan.
“Fucking hell,” she spits, sometime later when she is able to form words again. Her body is suddenly boneless and sinking into the mattress, utterly drained. Her thighs finally loosen around your head, much to your chagrin, because you’d grown fond of the sticky warmth you’d found between them.
She pulls your face up toward her, and you delight in the tour you’re given of her breathless, sweaty body beneath you as you crawl up the bed until you’re face-to-face. When you reach her lips she captures yours in a tight, passionate kiss, her tongue finding yours and tasting herself on its surface.
“I need you now,” she hisses, eyes boring into yours. You need her too. You always have, truth be told, but perhaps not in the same ways that she needed you. You want to say something, lying here, inches from her face, her eyes needy and vulnerable. But the words never come. The moment passes.
Before you can react any further her hands slide from your head to your shoulders, where she gives you a gentle push onto your back on the bed. She rolls atop you, straddling your hips.
There’s a coy smile on her lips as she undoes the belt at your waist before undoing the button and fly of your jeans and pulling them down your hips. She lets out a soft giggle as you raise your hips and pull the clothes off your legs as though they were on fire. This is all a game to her, a release, a fun, if momentary, distraction. The realization of that stings a little, somewhere deep inside you, where she can’t see the hurt she’s caused to you.
When you’re finally as naked as she is, she straddles you again. Your eyes find hers, as they always did, drawn to them, magnetically, as though you could always find what you needed in them. The small moment of levity and amusement she gained from watching you desperately undress disappears, replaced again by need and desire. 
Her tongue slips out between her lips when she gazes down and sees your cock, hard and aching. Her hand reaches out to grasp it and you feel the air rush out of your lungs at this first intimate contact. She brings your tip to her entrance, dragging the head up and down through her lips, lathering it with her slick juices.
You want to say something, want to tell her how utterly captivating she looks on your lap, your cock at her entrance; you want to tell her how much you wish you were about to fuck your girlfriend or your wife and not just a friend; you want to tell her how the very thought of another man being where you are, right now, upsets you more than you had any right to be.
The moment passes - again. You slide inside her, and suddenly words don’t exist any more.
The sight of Chou Tzuyu impaled hilt-deep on your cock is like nothing else you’ve ever experienced, like nothing else you ever will. She’s feminine perfection, right here, on you, wrapped around you. 
Her head is tilted back, mouth open in a silent moan, eyes shut, brow furrowed, as though deep in concentration. Her breasts are perfect and round and her nipples taut. Her abs flex - defined, toned. And her thighs - perfect, full, flushed. She’s more than you can take. She’s more than you can keep.
It’s a feeling that is only intensified when she begins to move, begins to use those strong, firm thighs and hips of hers to move herself up and down your cock, slowly, with soft, measured movements. She lets herself get used to you, get used to that delicious stretch of you inside her. It’s painful, in a way, how slowly she’s moving - it takes more self-control than you’d care to admit not to just hold her hips down and piston into the wonderful slickness of her cunt.
But hurting her was the last thing you wanted. If only she’d known how much she was hurting you. You wonder if she would stop if she knew. You wonder if she would even care.
Eventually she ups her pace as her body molds itself around you. She’s beginning to sigh and gasp now, mostly on the downstroke as your cock slides inside her, spreading her apart and stretching her out, sending shocks of pleasure throughout both your bodies with each entry. Your hands are firm on her hips, resisting for now the temptation to reach up and play with her softly bouncing breasts, or pull her back down onto your cock with more force. You’re content, feeling her, watching her take her pleasure from you.
Watching her use you.
Tzuyu feels your eyes on her, roaming her body, drinking in the sight of her. One hand reaches up to her breasts, capturing one, teasing the taut nipple for a moment with long, dainty fingertips, giving you a show. Eventually she brings both her hands to her scalp, gathering her hair, pulling it above her head and holding it there. She’s a vision, then and there - her hands above her head, back arching, breasts bouncing wildly as she continues to ride you.
“Jesus, Tzuyu,” you spit, the profanities tumbling from your mouth before you even knew you were speaking them. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
She lets her hair fall from the top of her head in a chocolate waterfall. Her hands cup her own breasts, fingertips playing with her aching nipples.
“You like me like this, baby?” she hisses, a question she knows the answer to. “You like me like this, bouncing on your cock, all tight and wet for you?”
“Fuck, yes, Tzuyu, fuck.”
Her lips curl into a wicked smile, before her lower lip curls under a perfect white tooth. She lets something deep and guttural escape her throat behind her bitten lip.
She bends over you, hands on either side of your head, hair framing a face twisted in pleasure.
She ups her pace, riding you fiercely now, hips slamming down onto yours at a pace that is almost violent. Your hands grasp her thighs, fingers clawing into the soft flesh, feeling the muscles beneath them work to throw their owner against you over and over and over.
“Fuck me,” she snaps, and you oblige.
You thrust upward to meet her, timing each movement of your hips to match with the downstroke of hers, and soon you are slamming your bodies against each other at a merciless pace.
Tzuyu shrieks - loud, sharp. She swears and spits and she’s becoming a loud, mewling mess atop you, but throughout it all she manages to keep riding you, keep bouncing that perfect body of hers atop your cock. Her cunt pulsates, squeezes you like a velvet glove. She’s so wet, leaking with so much arousal, that every slamming of your hips against each other is muffled by the wet stickiness that has coated much of your lower bodies.
“Oh god, oh god, I-” she begins, each word punctuated with a thrust of your cock into her cunt. “Oh fuck, I, so good-”
You watch her, watch that perfect face of hers twist in pleasure, watch as that perfect body of hers takes your cock. Your brow furrows and your hips burn with the effort but you feel none of the fatigue, none of the weariness of the physical effort. All that matters is her pleasure. All that matters is making sure she-
“Cumming-” she hisses, just barely before she does. 
Her eyes shut, body stiffens, just as it did when she came on your mouth - and her cunt tightens wonderfully around your cock, pulsating, squeezing. You bury yourself inside her to the hilt, wanting to feel every second of her orgasming around you. You can feel the shocks of pleasure radiating from her, reaching her limbs, flooding her brain with sensation. 
When she remembers to breathe she lets out a long, drawn out breath. Her arms, shaky, finally give way and she collapses atop you, head next to yours. For a few long seconds she does nothing but breathe heavily against you, the gasps and sighs that leave her mouth loud against your ear. Your hands roam her sweat-slick back, fingertips tracing a path down her spine and pulling a soft sigh from her tired lips.
“God,” she says into your ear. “Fuck, that was so good, baby.”
You loved and hated when she called you that. It was a pet name for lovers - and she only used it during sex. She only ever called you by your first name anywhere outside the bedroom. Another reminder of the boundaries. Of the limits.
“You feel amazing, Tzuyu,” you say, truthfully. Her cunt is still pulsating softly around your painfully stiff cock as the last waves of her orgasm leave her body. The warm slickness of her around you made a pleasant distraction from your emotions. Pleasant, but not easy.
You feel her lips curl into that sly smile of hers again against your cheek. She plants a few kisses under your ear, tracing a path along your jaw, until she finds your lips. Her hips begin to move again, side to side - not taking you in and out of her body, but just moving you around, swirling your stiffness inside her.
“Your turn, baby,” she whispers, half-lidded eyes locked on yours. “How do you want to cum in me?”
You’d had her in every position imaginable over the time you’ve been fuck buddies. But you always enjoyed one of them more than the others.
“Want you from behind-” you begin. “-Tzu.” you finish, resisting the temptation to call her ‘baby.’ Some small, bitter part of you felt she didn’t deserve to be called that, not if she was going to tease you, hurt you with its use, make a weapon out of it that she wielded carelessly, inconsiderately.
Thankfully, she doesn’t notice your momentary hesitation - maybe she was still recovering from the high of her orgasm, or maybe she was too focused on gyrating her hips around the stiffness still hilt-deep inside her.
“Alright, baby,” she says, again, the word stinging even if it was laced with the sweet honey of her voice. The smile on her lips is proof of how oblivious she is to the damage she wreaks with each wreckless use of it. 
You didn’t blame her. How could you? How could you expect someone to know what you felt internally when you continually denied it externally?
You’d promised each other, when you first started this little arrangement, that you’d put an end to it if either of you found yourselves with anything even remotely resembling feelings for the other. But how could you end it, when you’re in her bed and you’re both naked and she’s wet and ready and on her hands and knees, looking over her shoulder at you, slick pink lips opening to say-
“Come take me, then.”
A stronger man would have ended this a long time ago. You were not that man, not today. You doubted there were many men in the world with that level of strength.
You bring yourself behind her, admiring the sight of her - perfect, as she always was, perfect in every sense of the world. She’s creamy skin and a tiny waist and those hips and thighs, my god, those hips and thighs. She’s there and wet and ready and wanting and who could say no?
You bring your tip to her opening, parting her lips with your head, swirling it, swiping it up and down her slick flesh, sending a shiver of pleasure into both of your bodies. She sighs and her back arches delightfully, the dip of her spine sharp and prominent in the low light of her bedroom. She mewls and sighs, her hips pushing back against you, needy, wanting.
“Fuck, baby, come on,” she sighs, she begs. 
You loved her voice, soft and light, like silk spun into air - but you loved it most when it was begging, needy.
Her hips continue to push against you, the round cheeks of her ass pressing against you, trying to pull you inside her herself. “Please,” she continues, airy and breathless. “Put it in me. Don’t you want my pussy? Don’t you want me?”
You did. You wanted her, but in more ways than this. Chou Tzuyu is on her hands and knees in front of you and she’s dripping wet and begging and somehow it’s not enough.
One of her hands slides down her body, and her fingertips part the slick lips of her pussy. She’s glistening and pink and pure distilled need, right there, right here, ready for you to take. 
And she doesn’t give a damn about your feelings, is blissfully oblivious to everything but the emptiness between her legs. All she wants is a fuck. That’s it. That’s all you are. You’re everything and nothing, all at once.
“Look how empty I am without you inside me, baby. Come fill me up.”
You slide inside her - how could you not, after hearing that? She’s so tight and hot and wet, and you forget, momentarily, everything other than the feel of her cunt wrapped around you.
You fuck her - hard, firm, your pace fuelled more than you would care to admit by a darkness inside you that you weren’t proud to admit to. Jealousy, of some man you’d never met, some man who made her feel like you never could? Anger, at her, for not seeing how you felt about her, how amazing you could be together?
Whatever it was, it was ugly and came from a dark place, and you didn’t want to acknowledge it. But you fuck Chou Tzuyu with it running through your veins - fast, hard. And she sighs and moans and thinks you’re just especially turned on today, want a harder fuck than usual. She doesn’t know any better. Doesn’t know that you’re using her body the way you are, as an outlet for your frustration and anger as much as an outlet for your pleasure.
You reach forward, running your fingers through her hair with a surprising gentleness, even as your cock hammers in and out of her body, rocking it, pounding her.
Then your fingers close, pull. She yelps, gasps.
Her spine arcs sharply backward as you pull backward on her hair. You use her hair like a leash, pulling back as you thrust forward. Tzuyu can do nothing but take it, her body given to you fully. The spasming and quivering of her cunt around you is evidence of her acceptance, her submission. 
Your hips slap wetly against her ass with each hard thrust you make into her tight, slick pussy. The bedroom fills with it - flesh hitting flesh, wordless sighs and moans that turn into begging, profanity, name calling - the lewd soundtrack of sex.
“Fuck, fuck,” Tzuyu manages, “You’re so fucking deep, fuck, more, fuck me more-”
You shut her up. The hand pulling her hair wraps around her scalp, pushes her face down onto the bed. You pin her down, your palm flat against the back of her neck and upper shoulders. Throughout it all you are fucking her, using her, just as she uses you, even if it’s for different reasons, with entirely different depths of emotion.
Her mouth muffled against the bed, she’s unable to say or do much more. And you prefer her this way, because every word she says - even the ones that spur you into fucking her harder, faster, deeper - will only make it harder to leave her when you’re done.
Not that you needed much motivation to fuck her the way she liked - hard, deep, but not wild or uncontrolled. You maintain your pace, enjoying the way her cunt squeezed and tightened rhythmically around you. Tzuyu knew how to communicate with her body, knew how to tell you exactly what she wanted without words.
You watch her beneath you, relished the sight of her helpless and unable to do much of anything but take your cock again and again. Her moans and sighs are muffled by the cotton of her bedsheets, but you heard enough of them to tell you you were hitting just the right spots inside her. She’s under you and she’s yours and you do your best to stay in the moment, enjoy the feeling of her wrapped around you.
You feel that feeling in your core, the telltale building of pleasure in your gut that heralds your impending orgasm, tells you to fuck her harder and deeper and bury your cum inside her. She must have felt it too, somehow, in the slightly more erratic rhythm of your thrusts, or the tighter grip of your palm against the back of her neck.
Tzuyu turns her head enough to clear her mouth of the bedsheets, despite your palm on the back of her neck.
“Fucking cum in me,” she hisses, “Please cum inside me. Make me yours.”
The perfect words, on any other night - but on this night they only hurt you. 
Because she isn’t yours, might never be. Tomorrow, she might be another man’s. Even as you thrust harder and harder and your orgasm comes closer and closer all you can think of is how empty this feels, how even if she’s under you and taking your cum she’s not what you want her to be, what you need her to be.
But for a moment, a fleeting, blissful moment, you forget all that. Your hand leaves the back of her neck to join the other one at her hips, pulling her hips back against yours as you crest your peak, burying yourself inside her and letting go.
She moans as she feels you pulse inside her, each movement of your cock signifying another rope of warm, thick cum that fills her thirsty, needy little cunt. You give her a few more short, sharp thrusts before you bury yourself inside her for the last time. She’s so fucking full of you that your juices begin to overflow from her stuffed pussy, around the lips still tightly wrapped around your shaft, down your balls and her flushed thighs.
Time freezes, becomes irrelevant, and for a few blessed minutes you forget everything about the way you feel about Chou Tzuyu.
When your senses return and your brain has recovered long enough to process thought, the first thing you’re aware of is her voice.
“Fuck,” she’s saying, “God, that was… god.” And then she’s saying your name, and it makes you wince, as though hearing her say it caused you pain. 
You slip out of her, and she winces herself - although hers is borne of the emptiness you’ve left inside her and not out of any deeper emotion. She makes no effort to get off her hands and knees, staying frozen there, her ass in the air like some lewd testament to the sinful acts you’ve just committed. You watch, absent-mindedly, as your cum drips from her well-fucked cunt, down her thighs, staining her bed.
Eventually she falls onto her side, facing you. You’re sitting there, on your knees on the bed, watching her. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are glassy. She’s so perfect, so desirable - and you curse yourself for the millionth time that night that you lacked both the wisdom to find the words to say and the courage to say them.
But it doesn’t matter, because you’re not the guy she wants, not the one she’s waiting for a call from. And that’s when it hits you, dark and ugly and painful - you wonder if she were pretending you were him this whole time, pretending it was his cock fucking her, making her cum, cumming in her, using you like some fucktoy replacement for the real thing.
You turn away from her, as though the very sight of her were somehow painful to you, despite the fogginess of your post-orgasm haze. Before you know it, you’re climbing off the bed, finding your pants on the floor, throwing them on.
“Are you-?” she begins, her words soft as you find your t-shirt and button-up, throwing them on.
“I, uh, I have to get back to the party,” you stammer, hoping she would buy your flimsy excuse for an exit. But you had to leave, had to do anything to get out of that room. The thought of losing her, the thought of this being your last time together - it hurt, it was too much, and every fibre of you screamed to get away from it.
“Oh,” she says, softly. You turn to find that she’s sitting up on the bed now, her arms wrapping around her knees.
“There’s, uh, my friend, he, he introduced me to this girl,” you mumble, fabricating a story, trying to come up with some way to hurt her, just as she’s hurt you. “I told her I’d, uh, get back to the party. She likes me, I think,” you add, the words tasting like ashes in your mouth.
“Right,” she says, surprise and something else in her low voice. Her knees come up closer to her chest. “So, um, hey, about that guy-”
“Good luck with him,” you spit, cutting her off, afraid of what you might hear if you let her continue. “Uh, let me know how it goes.”
There’s a short silence, one that drags on for longer than you’d like. You don’t look up at her, unable to muster the courage to do so. You fumble with your shirt buttons, fingers numb.
“Sure,” she says, finally. “I… I think I’m going to call him tomorrow.”
“Right. I, uh, I should go. I’ll. Uh. I’ll talk to you later,” you say, as you turn towards her bedroom door.
You think you hear her say something, a couple of words.
Your eyes finally look up at her, but she’s looking away. You look for confirmation on her face, but she’s turned away from you, and her expression is unreadable. She suddenly looks small and vulnerable.
“Did- did you say something, Tzuyu?”
“Nothing,” she says, a hand pressed against the side of her face, her eyes shut, as though she were suddenly fighting a headache. But just as quickly it appears, it’s gone, and Tzuyu manages a weak smile, even if there’s no happiness or mirth in her eyes. “It’s nothing. Be safe getting back to the party, okay? And don’t forget your jacket - it’s cold outside. Let me know when you get there.”
“I, I will, Tzuyu,” you say, words shaky, unsure. “See ya.”
You leave her, leave her hot, stifling apartment.
The night is cold.
Author’s Note: High five to you if you guess what she said.
579 notes · View notes
verstappenverse · 3 days ago
Text
Pairing: Camgirl!Reader x Obsessed!Max
Authors Note: NSFW still working on the details for the upcoming fic but having fun with the concept. Let me know what you think or send any additional ideas 😉
Tumblr media
Max can’t remember how he found your page—maybe it was a suggested post on Instagram, or maybe some random link caught his attention. It doesn’t matter how it started, what matters is that now he’s addicted.
At first it's just curiosity, he wasn’t the type to watch cam streams or really spend any time on adult content, but something about you was different. You weren’t like the over-the-top, hyper-curated content he’d expect from this kind of thing. You were sweet, soft-spoken, almost shy in the way you interacted with the camera. And Max sitting alone in his Monaco penthouse couldn’t look away.
He tells himself it’s just a passing distraction, a way to unwind, but then he starts getting… attached. His obsession grows quietly at first. He subscribes to your page, buys your exclusive content, and sets notifications for your streams. It doesn’t matter if he’s at a racetrack, a sponsor event, or a hotel halfway across the world - when you post about your next stream, he checks the time difference and tries to plan his schedule around it.
The first time someone else drops a high tip and you thank them by name, Max feels it. That sharp, irrational sting of jealousy. He knows it’s stupid, he’s one of thousands of viewers, but the way you smile for them? It makes him want to punch a wall. So he does the only thing that makes sense - he outbids them.
When you say his username in that soft, teasing tone and add “Thank you so much, you’re incredible!”—it’s like a shot of adrenaline straight to his chest.
It starts small a few high donations here and there, but soon enough he finds himself spending more of his income on you than he’d ever care to admit. From there it spirals, he’s tipping more, requesting more, even messaging you privately. You respond graciously of course, you always do, but Max convinces himself that your replies to him are different. More personal.
Custom videos, private streams - whatever gets him a little closer to feeling like he’s the only one you’re looking at. He tells himself it’s harmless. He can afford it after all.
It doesn’t take long before his obsession starts creeping into the rest of his life. Between races, he’s refreshing your page to see if you’ve posted. During long-haul flights, he’s watching your videos on repeat. Even at the paddock while his team is running simulations or tweaking the car setup he catches himself checking for notifications.
There are nights he barely sleeps staying up to catch you live, even if he has an early training session the next day. Between races he’ll watch your older streams on repeat, memorising the way you speak, the way you smile. Max knows he’s in too deep, but he can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop.
His spending ramps up. When someone else tries to steal the spotlight in your chat, he doesn’t just outbid them—he obliterates them. He’s dropping tips that make everyone else look like amateurs, just to keep your attention squarely on him. And it works. His messages get bolder and more desperate too.
I can’t stop thinking about how good you’d look in my bed.
It’s torture watching you touch yourself, knowing I could make you feel so much better.
Tell me I’m your favourite, just once.
You should be sitting on my lap right now instead of talking to them.
Do you know how hard it is to sit here and watch you, knowing I can’t touch you?
The things I’d do to you if you were mine… you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day. Your lips part in surprise at that one, and you quickly cover your flustered reaction with a laugh. “Well, that’s… quite the statement,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. I never make promises I can’t keep.
But it’s not enough.
The idea of being just another fan starts to gnaw at him. Max Verstappen isn’t “just another” anything. But Max is nothing if not competitive, and the idea of being just another fan doesn’t sit well with him for long. He’s used to winning, to being first, to having the best. He wants to be the one you think about when the stream ends.
He wants to know you in ways the others never could. Where you live, what you liked to do when the camera was off, whether anyone in your life treated you as well as you deserved.
What would it take for me to get your attention?
And when you reply, laughing softly, “You’ve already got it,” it’s game over for him.
Max is playing a dangerous game. Balancing his life as one of the most recognisable athletes in the world with his growing obsession for someone who doesn’t even know who he really is. But that’s the thing about Max - when he wants something he gets it. And right now, there’s nothing in the world he wants more than you.
388 notes · View notes
areislol · 8 hours ago
Note
hsr!men with a reader who 'stresses' them out to see if they actually like reader that much or not >< HSUDHNS like testing them! kind of. during a post-confession stage where they both kind of know but haven't put any labels on it yet........
AHCK IM SORRY IF THIS IS ODDLY SPECIFIC LOL
pairings. jing yuan, dan heng, blade, welt, sampo, gepard, luocha, caelus, dr ratio, aventurine, boothill, gallagher, moze, jiaoqiu, sunday x gn! reader
warnings. just fluff
a/n. i love this idea sm omg!! this is so cute and adorable, thank you so much for popping in!
wc. 10.6k
synopsis. testing the hsr men to see if they really like you or not...
recommend listening to: blue - yung kai
Tumblr media
caelus
✧ caelus is feeling a mix of patience and confusion. mostly confusion.
✧ you’d stress them out by acting overly distant or cryptic with your words. of course, this would be a bit too mean but.... you needed to know whether or not he truly liked you or not!!!
✧  now caelus always has this quiet confidence about him, a grounded presence that somehow keeps you both intrigued and comforted. you’ve been walking the line between friendship and something more for weeks now—soft smiles, lingering touches, and late-night conversations that stretch into the early morning. but neither of you has made the leap to define it, and the uncertainty starts to gnaw at you.
✧ so, you decide to test him. not out of malice, but out of curiosity—does he care as much as you think he does? or are you misreading everything?
✧ it starts small. you "accidentally" forget your jacket during a particularly chilly day on the xianzhou luofu. "it's fine," you say, feigning nonchalance as you rub your arms. "i’ll survive."
✧ caelus, who notices everything, doesn’t hesitate. without a word, he shrugs off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders. it’s warm and smells faintly like him—clean and earthy.
✧ "you’ll catch a cold," he says simply, his expression unreadable. but the way his fingers linger at your shoulder for a moment longer than necessary sends a shiver down your spine.
✧ okay, you think. that’s a point for him.
✧ but you don’t stop there. later, as the two of you work together to sort some scattered archives, you sigh dramatically. "i’m so bad at this," you say, even though you’ve already figured out the system. "caelus, can you help me? i think i’m doing it all wrong."
✧ he glances at you, eyebrows raised slightly. he knows you’re capable—you’ve proven it plenty of times.
✧ "really?" he asks, his tone soft but teasing. "you seem like you’ve got it handled."
✧ but he still moves to your side, explaining the process again with patience and care. you can’t help but notice how close he stands, the way his arm brushes against yours.
✧ another point, you mentally tally, biting back a smile.
✧ the final "test" happens that evening. the two of you are sitting on a bench overlooking the bustling streets below. you lean your head back, sighing loudly.
✧ "caelus," you start, your tone heavy with faux melancholy, "do you ever think... maybe we’re wasting our time? like, maybe this—whatever this is—isn’t worth it?"
✧ his head snaps toward you so fast you almost laugh. his usual calm demeanor falters for a moment, and there’s a flicker of something raw in his amber eyes.
✧ "what are you trying to say?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.
✧ suddenly, the air feels heavier. you weren’t expecting such a serious reaction, and it makes your chest tighten.
✧ "i mean..." you hesitate, suddenly feeling a little guilty for pushing him. "i don’t know. it just feels like maybe we’re stuck in this limbo, you know?"
✧ he stares at you for a moment, his gaze searching. then, he exhales softly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "if you think this isn’t worth it," he says, his voice steady but quiet, "then tell me. but don’t assume i feel the same."
✧ your heart stutters at his words.
✧ "you don’t?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. he turns to look at you again, his expression soft but serious.
✧ "no," he says firmly. "you mean a lot to me. more than you realize. i’m just... waiting for you to figure out how much you mean to me too."
✧ and just like that, the test is over. you realize you didn’t need to test him at all—he’s always been steady, always been sure. it was you who needed the reassurance, and he gave it to you without hesitation.
✧ as the silence stretches between you, you feel the weight of his coat still draped over your shoulders. you finally let yourself smile, leaning closer to him.
✧ "okay," you murmur. "i get it now."
✧ he doesn’t say anything, but the small, satisfied smile that tugs at his lips says enough.
gepard
✧ poor gepard takes your “test” far too seriously.
✧ (his face falls immediately, and he starts overthinking everything he’s ever done. he’d even try to change his habits, stumbling through awkward attempts to “loosen up.” “i—i can be fun! watch this!” (proceeds to try something clumsy.))
✧ testing gepard’s feelings feels almost unfair. he’s so earnest, so genuine, that you almost feel bad for trying to push his limits. but a little part of you—it’s that gnawing insecurity, that need for reassurance—wants to see how much he’s willing to handle for you.
✧ it starts during a routine patrol around belobog. you walk beside him, pretending to be engrossed in your surroundings, but you’re really watching him out of the corner of your eye. his posture is as perfect as always, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, eyes scanning for any sign of trouble.
✧ "gepard," you say suddenly, interrupting the calm. he turns to you immediately, his expression softening. "yes?"
✧ you fake a dramatic sigh. "do you ever think you work too hard? like... maybe you’re so busy being a model captain that you don’t have time for other things?"
✧ his brows furrow slightly, clearly not expecting this question. "what do you mean?"
✧ "i mean, what if someone in your life needed more of your attention? would you even notice?"
✧ he stops walking, turning to face you fully. there’s a flash of concern in his blue eyes, and you almost feel guilty for how well this is working.
✧ "if someone needed me," he says, his voice steady but laced with worry, "i’d do everything in my power to be there for them. are you... trying to tell me something?"
✧ you wave your hand dismissively, laughing lightly. "oh, no, just a hypothetical. don’t worry about it." he doesn’t look convinced, but he nods and resumes walking, though you notice he stays closer to your side after that.
✧ later, you decide to push a little harder. when the two of you are back at the overworld base, you feign exhaustion, slumping dramatically onto a nearby bench.
✧ "i’m so tired," you complain, rubbing your temples. "today was so stressful. i don’t think i can even move."
✧ before you can say anything else, gepard is already at your side. he crouches slightly, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he’s not sure whether he should offer to help you up or just sit beside you.
✧ "you should have said something earlier," he says, his voice full of concern. "if you’re overworked, you need to take a break. here, let me—"
✧ you cut him off with a teasing smile. "what are you going to do, carry me around belobog like some kind of knight in shining armor?" he freezes for a moment, his cheeks flushing pink. "i mean... if you needed me to, i would."
✧ you weren’t expecting such a sincere answer, and it throws you off balance. your heart flutters, but you’re determined to keep the act going.
✧ "you’re too sweet, gepard," you say with a grin. "but don’t worry, i’m fine. just testing you a little." his blush deepens, and he shifts nervously. "testing me?"
✧ "yeah," you admit, leaning back against the bench. "just wanted to see how far you’d go for me."
✧ he frowns, clearly conflicted. "you don’t need to test me," he says quietly. "if something’s bothering you, you can just tell me. i’d rather you be honest than try to figure things out on your own."
✧ his words hit you harder than you expected, and you suddenly feel a little guilty.
✧ "you’re right," you mumble, looking down at your hands. "sorry, i didn’t mean to make you worry."
✧ he sighs softly, then sits beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. "it’s okay," he says after a moment. "i just... care about you. a lot. and i want you to know that you never have to doubt it."
✧ you glance at him, his expression as open and honest as ever, and your heart aches in the best way.
✧ "thanks, gepard," you say softly.
✧ he smiles, and it’s so warm and genuine that you know you didn’t need to test him in the first place. he’s always been exactly who he says he is—steadfast, caring, and utterly devoted.
✧ “please, don’t do that again. my heart can’t take it. but... i do care about you more than anything.”
dr. ratio
✧ dr. ratio sees through your “stress test” almost immediately, being as perceptive as he is.
✧ testing dr. ratio feels like trying to rattle an unshakable pillar—he’s sharp, meticulous, and composed to the point where you’re almost certain he’ll see through you immediately. but your curiosity gets the better of you. you want to see if the normally calm and collected doctor could ever crack, even slightly, under your antics.
✧ you decide to start small, choosing to "stress" him out during one of his intense research sessions.
✧ "dr. ratio," you call out from across the lab, your tone light and teasing.
✧ he doesn’t look up from his holopad. "yes?"
✧ "can you explain this to me again? i swear i just don’t get it."
✧ you hold up a tablet displaying a simple analysis you’re perfectly capable of interpreting. it’s the third time you’ve asked him about something today, and you’re sure he’s starting to notice.
✧ he sighs, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. "are you sure you’re not just overthinking it?"
✧ "maybe," you say, shrugging. "or maybe you’re just bad at explaining things."
✧ that earns you a sharp look, and for a split second, you think you’ve actually pushed too far. but then his lips twitch, a flicker of amusement breaking through his usual stoicism.
✧ "bad at explaining things?" he repeats, setting his holopad down. "are you testing my patience, or are you testing my intelligence?"
✧ "both," you reply with a cheeky grin. he chuckles softly, shaking his head. "if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked."
✧ despite his calm exterior, you notice the subtle way he shifts closer to you, his focus entirely on you now. you can’t help but feel a small thrill of triumph, though you know you’re playing with fire.
✧ later, you decide to up the stakes. while he’s meticulously organizing data, you lean against the desk, deliberately placing your hand over one of his charts.
✧ "do you ever think about taking a break?" you ask, tilting your head at him. "you work so much, it’s like you’re married to your lab."
✧ he arches an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to your hand covering his work. "and if i am? does that bother you?"
✧ "a little," you admit, your tone teasing. "what if you end up ignoring more important things?"
✧ he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studies you. "and what would those ‘important things’ be?"
✧ his voice is calm, but there’s a glint in his eyes that makes you feel like you’ve walked right into his trap. "me, obviously," you say, trying to maintain your confidence.
✧ he hums thoughtfully, as if considering your words. then, without warning, he reaches out and gently flicks your forehead.
✧ "you’re not very subtle," he says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
✧ "ouch," you say, rubbing your forehead with a pout. "was that necessary?"
✧ "completely," he replies smoothly. "if you’re going to test me, at least make it challenging."
✧ his words leave you flustered, and you quickly retreat from his desk, muttering something about needing fresh air. but later, when he finds you in the lounge, he sets a cup of tea in front of you without a word.
✧ "what’s this for?" you ask, looking up at him.
✧ "you seemed tense earlier," he says simply. "and since you’re so concerned about me ignoring important things, I thought I’d remind you that you’re one of them."
✧ your heart skips a beat at his casual declaration, and for once, you’re at a loss for words. he smirks at your reaction, clearly pleased with himself, before walking away, leaving you to process his unexpected yet reassuring gesture.
✧ turns out, dr. ratio isn’t so easy to test—but he makes it clear that he’s always paying attention.
✧ however, he sits you down for a serious talk afterward. “you don’t need to test me. i like you—that much should be obvious by now.”
aventurine
✧ aventurine takes your antics in stride but is clearly not one to tolerate nonsense for long.
✧ but in all seriousness it feels like you're trying to move a mountain. his steadfastness and confidence make it seem impossible to throw him off balance, but you’re determined to see how deep his patience and affection run. you tell yourself it’s just curiosity, but deep down, you crave the reassurance that this larger-than-life man truly feels the same way you do.
✧ it begins subtly, during one of his routine mineral inspections. he’s meticulously cataloging a haul of rare crystals when you decide to “help.”
✧ “aventurine, what’s this one called?” you ask, holding up a dazzling gem you already know the name of.
✧ he barely glances up, his deep voice calm and measured. “that’s a starshard geode. its structure is—”
✧ “wait, wait,” you interrupt, turning it over in your hands. “are you sure? it kinda looks like... a moonstone?”
✧ his head finally lifts, and he looks at you with a mixture of amusement and mild disbelief. “a moonstone? not even close. are you trying to challenge my expertise?”
✧ “maybe,” you tease, placing the gem back in the wrong compartment.
✧ he sighs, but there’s no frustration in his expression, only a patient shake of his head as he moves the gem back to its proper place. “you’re impossible,” he mutters, though there’s a small smile tugging at his lips.
✧ later, you decide to turn up the heat. as he’s polishing a massive chunk of raw celestium, you sit nearby, swinging your legs off the edge of the table.
✧ “aventurine,” you say sweetly.
✧ “mm?” he responds without looking up.
✧ “do you ever get tired of being around me?”
✧ that gets his attention. he pauses mid-polish, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as he turns to face you fully. “what kind of question is that?”
✧ you shrug, feigning nonchalance. “i mean, i can be annoying sometimes. don’t you ever just... wish for some peace and quiet?”
✧ he sets the celestium down with deliberate care and crosses his arms, his imposing figure suddenly feeling even larger.
✧ “you’re trying to get a reaction out of me,” he says plainly, his voice as steady as the ground beneath your feet.
✧ “what? me? no way,” you reply, trying to sound innocent.
✧ he steps closer, leaning down so his face is level with yours. his expression is serious, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his gaze.
✧ “if i wanted peace and quiet, i wouldn’t be here,” he says firmly. “do you really think i’d waste my time with someone i don’t care about?”
✧ his straightforwardness leaves you momentarily stunned, and he chuckles softly at your silence. “you don’t need to test me, you know,” he adds, his tone softening. “if you have doubts, just ask. i don’t like games, but i’ll always give you the truth.”
✧ you feel a pang of guilt for pushing him, but his reassurance warms your heart. “sorry,” you mumble, looking down. “i just wanted to be sure...”
✧ he reaches out, gently lifting your chin so you’re forced to meet his gaze.
✧ “then let me make it clear,” he says, his golden eyes unwavering. “you matter to me. and that’s not going to change, no matter how many gems you mislabel.”
✧ you laugh softly, the tension melting away as his words sink in. it was clear that his affection for you is as solid and enduring as the earth itself.
boothill
✧ boothill is rough around the edges but has a soft spot for you, so your little test catches him off guard.
✧ boothill's unmovable, stone-faced, and never shows signs of cracking, no matter what you throw his way. but that’s exactly why you’re so curious. you’ve seen his stoic side, his professionalism, and his dedication, but does that mean there’s any space for you in that heart of his? you decide to try and test the waters.
✧ it begins in a quiet moment, after a long mission. you’re both back at the base, sitting side by side on a bench. boothill is cleaning his weapon, his focus so intense that it feels like nothing in the world could distract him. you watch him for a moment, then decide to start.
✧ “boothill,” you call out softly.
✧ he doesn’t look up, but you see his fingers pause for a fraction of a second before he resumes cleaning his weapon.
✧ “yeah?”
✧ “do you ever wonder if you’re too... distant? i mean, you’re always so focused, so serious. don’t you ever need to relax a bit?”
✧ he glances at you now, his piercing gaze meeting yours for just a second. but he doesn’t answer right away, instead just continuing with his task.
✧ “relaxing isn’t exactly something i prioritize,” he replies with his usual calm. “there’s work to be done.”
✧ you scoff lightly, pushing your luck a little. “work, work, work. what about you, huh? when’s it your turn to... i don’t know, enjoy life? have some fun?”
✧ he looks at you then, and there’s something almost unreadable in his expression. his eyes soften just a fraction, and he lets out a small sigh.
✧ “if you think i don’t enjoy life, you’re wrong,” he says, voice low but surprisingly tender. “i just don’t need distractions.”
✧ you press a little more, feeling a mischievous spark inside you. “so, you’re saying you don’t need me to distract you?”
✧ boothill stops what he’s doing for a moment, and this time, he stares at you, really staring. for a split second, you think you’ve gone too far. but then he leans back, folding his arms across his chest, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
✧ “testing me, huh?” he says, his voice laced with dry amusement. “you’re a little more persistent than i expected.”
✧ you shrug nonchalantly, hoping your nonchalance hides the fact that your heart is pounding. “i just want to know if you care, boothill. i mean, you’re so... detached sometimes. how do i know it’s not all just professional to you?”
✧ his gaze softens, and for a brief moment, there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that catches you off guard. then, without warning, he reaches out and gently grabs your hand, pulling it into his lap.
✧ “care?” he murmurs, his thumb stroking the back of your hand in slow, deliberate movements. “i care more than you know.”
✧ your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the weight of his words settle over you like a blanket. the walls he’s built around himself are still there, but now, you realize that inside, there’s room for you.
✧ “you don’t need to test me for that,” he adds, his voice low and reassuring. “just... don’t expect me to show it the same way as everyone else.”
✧ you can feel the sincerity in his touch, in his gaze, and something inside you finally clicks. boothill’s love is subtle, understated, and a little rough around the edges, but it’s real.
✧ “i get it,” you whisper, squeezing his hand gently. “sorry for making you doubt me.”
✧ he chuckles quietly, a rare sound that makes your heart flutter. “you’re relentless. but that’s why i like you.”
✧ and there it is—he may not always wear his heart on his sleeve, but boothill’s love for you is unwavering, and that’s something you can rely on, even if it’s not always obvious.
gallagher
✧ gallagher is as easygoing as they come, but even he has limits.
✧ it starts innocently enough—just a playful attempt to poke at his carefully maintained composure. he’s in the middle of preparing a meal, the scent of fresh herbs and sizzling meat filling the air as he moves about the kitchen with his usual precision. you, however, are seated at the table, tapping your fingers lightly against the wood, watching him with a raised eyebrow.
✧ “gallagher,” you start, your voice casual but laced with curiosity.
✧ “hm?” he replies, glancing at you briefly before returning to his task.
✧ “how do you always manage to keep your cool? i mean, don’t you ever get tired of being so... well, perfect?”
✧ he doesn’t look up this time, but there’s a subtle shift in the air, like he’s sensing you’re trying to test him. his movements are smooth and measured, and he doesn’t skip a beat as he finishes plating the food.
✧ “there’s no point in losing composure over things that don’t matter,” he says matter-of-factly, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “chaos doesn’t make for a good meal.”
✧ you bite your lip, leaning back in your chair. “so, you’re saying everything has to be ‘in its place’ with you? even with people?”
✧ his hands freeze for just a moment, and you catch a flicker of something in his expression—maybe amusement, maybe something else. but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he finishes plating the meal with a soft sigh, setting the plate in front of you.
✧ “i’m not a machine, if that’s what you’re implying,” he says, finally meeting your gaze. “i’m not perfect. i just prefer things to be organized—helps with focus.”
✧ you raise an eyebrow, pushing a bit more. “oh? and does that mean you like it when people don’t mess with your focus? or is that just a ‘you’ thing?”
✧ gallagher pauses, studying you carefully. for a moment, the air is thick with tension, but then he smirks slightly, a glimmer of teasing in his eyes.
✧ “messing with my focus?” he repeats, his voice playful now. “is that what you’re doing? because, if i’m being honest, it’s working. you’ve got my attention now.”
✧ you blink, taken aback by his response. you expected him to brush it off, but instead, he steps closer, his presence a little more imposing now.
✧ “you know,” he continues, his tone lower, “you’re not as subtle as you think you are. but i’ll give you points for persistence.”
✧ you try to recover, but there’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you speechless for a moment.
✧ “persistence?” you murmur, a little breathless.
✧ he nods, his smile softening just enough to show you that it’s genuine. “you’ve got a lot of questions, but i don’t need to play games with you. if you want answers, just ask. you don’t have to test me to find out if i’m interested.”
✧ his words hit you harder than you expected, and you realize that gallagher isn’t someone to hide his feelings. it’s not that he’s cold—he’s just direct. he’ll never say it in the way you might expect, but his actions speak louder than anything else.
✧ “i guess i’m just used to waiting for things to fall into place,” you admit, trying to play it cool.
✧ he leans in slightly, the faintest hint of humor in his eyes. “you don’t have to wait with me. i’m already here.”
✧ his tone is simple, but it carries a weight of meaning that makes your heart skip a beat. gallagher doesn’t do drama, but when he gives you his attention, it’s clear that he’s all in, no matter how much he might downplay it.
moze
✧ moze is a man of few words, and your antics genuinely confuse him. 😰😰
✧  he's calm, composed, and always so serious, which makes you determined to break through that cold, unreadable exterior. you’ve decided to test his limits, just to see if you can get a real reaction out of him.
✧ it starts on a typical day after a mission. you’re sitting across from him in the common room, watching as he pores over some data logs. your usual routine involves making things just a little more interesting for him, because let’s face it—moze needs to lighten up.
✧ “moze,” you say, a grin tugging at your lips.
✧ he doesn’t look up, but you can see the slight twitch of his eyebrow. “what is it?”
✧ you make a show of examining the ceiling, tapping your chin dramatically. “have you ever wondered if the world is actually upside down? like, maybe gravity's all wrong, and we’re just... stuck to the floor by pure luck?”
✧ moze pauses for a split second, probably wondering how you can turn a perfectly normal moment into this. then, without missing a beat, he glances at you, deadpan.
✧ “if the world was upside down, i assume you'd be the one stuck on the ceiling by pure luck,” he says flatly, already returning to his work.
✧ you burst into laughter, but moze doesn’t even flinch, just continues typing, his expression still as composed as ever. he’s like a stone statue, and it’s honestly a little impressive.
✧ “okay, okay,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye. “let’s try something different.” you lean forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “do you ever get bored? you know, just sitting there all serious, pretending like you’re too busy to talk?”
✧ this time, he doesn’t even look up from his work. “bored? No. Are you trying to see how far you can push me before i snap?”
✧ you nod, trying not to smile too widely. “yep! How’s it going so far?”
✧ moze lets out a soft sigh, clearly unamused but still managing to hold his ground. “i’m doing great. You, on the other hand... are a handful.”
✧ “a handful? me?” you gasp dramatically, clutching your chest. “I’m hurt, moze. I’m just trying to keep things interesting around here!”
✧ his lips twitch ever so slightly, but it’s almost imperceptible. “you’re making it interesting... in the same way that throwing a tantrum in a library is interesting.”
✧ you tilt your head, pretending to consider this for a moment. “so, you’re saying you don’t like chaos?”
✧ “i like order,” he says, never looking away from the screen. “but if you’re asking if you can test my patience, then yes, you’re doing a very good job of that.”
✧ you giggle, thoroughly entertained by the way he’s handling you. "oh, come on, just admit it. you love the chaos! You secretly think it's hilarious when I mess with you."
✧ moze looks up at you for the first time in a while, his expression still all business but with the tiniest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “if by hilarious, you mean mildly irritating, then yes.”
✧ “mildly?!” you gasp in faux offense. “I’m doing my best here, moze! how could you rate my efforts so low?”
✧ he leans back slightly in his chair, finally breaking his stoic routine. “honestly, i’m impressed you’re still going. most people would’ve given up by now.”
✧ “well, i'm not ‘most people,’ am I?” you reply with a cheeky smile.
✧ he smirks ever so slightly, though it’s mostly to himself. “no. clearly.”
✧ you can’t help but giggle, because while moze definitely isn’t as easily rattled as others, it’s clear he’s starting to find the humor in your antics.
✧ “admit it, moze,” you tease. “i’m the most fun you’ve had all week.”
✧ he raises an eyebrow, finally closing the data pad and turning his full attention to you. “if by ‘fun’ you mean ‘annoying distraction,’ then yes.”
✧ you stick your tongue out at him playfully. “you love me, admit it.”
✧ moze chuckles dryly, though it’s far from his usual serious tone. “you’re impossible. But for some reason, i don’t mind.”
✧ “there it is!” you exclaim, pointing dramatically. “the confession! finally!”
✧ he sighs, but there’s a hint of fondness in his eyes now. “don’t push your luck. i’m still not letting you off the hook for the chaos you’ve caused.”
✧ you grin, leaning back in your seat, satisfied. “you can’t get rid of me that easily, moze. get used to it.”
✧ “i’m already used to it,” he mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.
jiaoqiu
✧ jiaoqiu is calm and composed, but your “test” slowly chips away at his patience.
✧ his idea of "testing" his patience feels almost like trying to mess with a finely tuned recipe—you know that if you push too far, something could spoil, but you can't resist seeing how he’ll react. the thing about jiaoqiu is that he’s blind, but that doesn’t stop him from being as sharp as a knife when it comes to his senses. especially when it comes to cooking—his true passion.
✧ you’ve noticed something about him, though. the more you “stress” him, the more attentive he gets, in his own way. it’s kind of like the game’s in his favor, and you’re slowly realizing he might be playing right along with you.
✧ one evening, you’re hanging out in the kitchen with jiaoqiu, and you’ve already decided to take your "testing" to the next level. as he prepares some of his signature dishes—no surprise, they're the most complex meals imaginable, even though he can't see a thing—you're doing your best to throw him off.
✧ “jiaoqiu, are you sure you don’t want me to help with that? it looks... dangerous,” you tease, noticing the steam rising from the pot in front of him.
✧ “dangerous?” he repeats, clearly amused but not thrown off. he moves deftly around the kitchen, the sound of his chopping board in the background. “my dear, cooking isn’t dangerous unless you’re trying to make something impossible.”
✧ you laugh softly, leaning against the counter. “so, you’re saying if I started pulling the wrong spices out, you wouldn’t even notice?”
✧ he pauses, then lets out a small chuckle of his own. “i might not see it, but i can certainly smell it. and don’t think i don’t know when you’re reaching for something you shouldn’t be.”
✧ you feign shock, dramatically holding your hands up as if caught in the act. “i would never! i have complete respect for your culinary expertise!”
✧ jiaoqiu hums, as if pondering your words, but then he continues his cooking with that quiet confidence he always carries. “you’d be more convincing if you didn’t have that mischievous glint in your eye.”
✧ your grin widens. it’s clear he’s onto you now, but you still try to push. “well, how would you know? You can't see, after all.”
✧ “true,” he replies calmly, “but i know the sounds of the kitchen well enough. if you were to drop something, or mess with the ingredients... i’d hear it. the rhythm of it all gives me a good idea of what’s happening.”
✧ you blink, stunned. you had been testing him, but jiaoqiu seems to always be one step ahead. how does he know? how can he be so confident?
✧ “and,” he adds, his voice still soft but with a hint of playfulness, “i know you, [your name].”
✧ you laugh, finally admitting defeat. “okay, okay! you got me. but seriously, how do you do it? how do you know where everything is?”
✧ he pauses his cooking and turns toward you, his voice warm yet full of humor. “let’s say i’ve had a lot of practice. and when you love something as much as i love cooking, you learn to rely on all your senses, not just sight. even when you can’t see, your other senses fill in the gaps.”
✧ you watch him work for a moment, and despite his lack of eyesight, he’s a master in the kitchen. it’s clear that his expertise comes from much more than just the act of cooking; it’s a connection to the ingredients, the textures, the sounds of each step.
✧ “okay, but what if i really messed something up? what if i did something totally wrong, just to mess with you?”
✧ he raises an eyebrow—something that’s only visible through his voice, but you get the feeling he’s smirking. “well, if you did that, i’d probably just end up fixing it before you even noticed. and then i’d make you do the dishes.”
✧ you groan, defeated but also thoroughly entertained. “you’re way too good at this.”
✧ “you’re the one testing me, not the other way around,” jiaoqiu reminds you, returning his focus to his cooking. but this time, you can hear the faint warmth in his tone, a reassurance that’s just for you. “but don’t worry, i’m not going to let you ruin dinner. even if you try to be a little mischievous.”
✧ there’s something comforting in the way he handles it all—the teasing, the games you play, even the mess-ups you deliberately throw his way. he may not be able to see you, but you know he can feel your presence, your energy, and you can’t help but feel safe in it. despite his teasing, despite the quiet confidence, jiaoqiu has a way of making everything feel just... right.
✧ “next time,” you say, grinning, “i’m going to really throw you off.”
✧ jiaoqiu just laughs softly, shaking his head as he finishes up his dish. “i’ll be waiting, [your name]. i’ll be waiting.”
✧  “but uh, next time, just ask me. there’s no need for this kind of... drama.”
sunday
✧ sunday is all sunshine and joy, but even he can get flustered when you start testing him.
✧ sunday is a halovian, with those distinct small fluffy wings nestled around his neck—adorably soft and always twitching with his every mood. you’ve learned that while he might seem all chill and sunny on the surface, he’s got his own quirks, and if you push him far enough, he’s more likely to play along than snap at you.
✧ one day, you’re lounging in the living area, and sunday’s sitting across from you, lazily flipping through a book. you can’t resist; it’s time for some mischief.
✧ “hey, sunday,” you call, trying to hide your grin.
✧ “yeah?” he replies, looking off guard. "have you ever been nervous before? like, nervous nervous?"
✧ “nervous? me? c’mon, i’m practically impossible to ruffle.” he gives you a lighthearted shrug, but you can see the playful challenge in his eyes. he’s used to keeping things breezy, but you’ve caught his attention now.
✧ you press on, deciding to have a little more fun with this. “oh really? well, let’s see... I’ve got a whole list of ways I could mess with you.”
✧ sunday doesn’t seem fazed at first, but you notice the way his fluffy wings twitch a little more with each word you say. it’s like a radar for his mood—you know he’s still calm, but there’s something in the way his feathers ruffle when he’s listening to you.
✧ “well, you’ll have to be a lot sneakier than that if you want to get under my skin,” he says, flashing you that signature grin of his, but now you can see a little spark of competitiveness in his eyes.
✧ you, of course, aren’t backing down. “let’s see if i can. hey, sunday, do you ever get tired of being all... perfect?” you ask, making air quotes around "perfect" with your hands.
✧ sunday’s wings flutter again, and this time, you catch the faintest shift in his posture. “perfect?” he asks, trying to play it off, but there’s a subtle twitch in the fluff near his neck. “you’re really gonna call me perfect? what’s wrong with that?”
✧ oh, he’s biting now. perfect. you lean in, voice teasing. “well, it just seems a little... too easy, don’t you think? i mean, you’re always so relaxed, always in control. how do you even do it?”
✧ you can see sunday’s lips twitch in amusement, and his wings give an exaggerated little flutter, like they’re bristling. he’s definitely aware now, but the best part is how he's trying to play it cool, still acting like he’s the one in control.
✧ “you really think i’ve got it all under control, huh?” he responds, a bit of a challenge creeping into his tone. “well, i guess i am pretty awesome. i mean, who could resist all this charm?” he gestures to himself dramatically, his wings fluffing out like he’s proud of the effect they have.
✧ you laugh, but don’t let up. “oh, i’m sure the charm works, but... do you ever get tired of being this smooth?” you tease, pretending to think it over. “i mean, surely you get a little flustered once in a while, right? just a little bit?”
✧ that’s when you see it—a small, barely perceptible shift. sunday’s wings twitch against his neck, brushing lightly as he tries to keep his expression neutral, but you catch it. there’s a softening in his demeanor, a slight heat creeping into his tone.
✧ “huh. so now i’m too smooth?” he teases, but it’s a little less confident now. “maybe you’re just getting good at finding my weak spots.”
✧ you smile, leaning back triumphantly. “maybe. or maybe you’re just too easy to read, sunday.”
✧ he narrows his eyes playfully, but you catch the small, almost imperceptible shift in his posture as his wings flutter just a little more. it's like they’re signaling his internal shift—he’s starting to realize you’re not just playing around.
✧ “okay, okay,” sunday says with a dramatic sigh, his wings now fully unfurled behind him like a soft, fluffy halo. he rubs the back of his neck and gives you a teasing look. “you wanna stress me out, huh? well, guess i’ll have to turn the tables a little.”
✧ with that, sunday leans closer, grinning mischievously. his wings brush against his neck again, this time on purpose, causing a soft, tickling sensation that makes you jump a little.
✧ “how’s this?” he asks, and now, you realize—he’s playing his own game. “i think we’re gonna see how you handle me.”
✧ sunday’s easygoing nature mixed with his unexpected turn in this little game makes it all the more fun. as he continues to toy with you, you can’t help but laugh at how well he’s handled your antics.
✧ “alright, alright,” you admit, finally letting the game end, “you win. i’ll stop testing your patience... for now.”
✧ his wings flutter triumphantly behind him as he gives you a mock salute, his grin still wide and playful. “you’re welcome to try again any time, [name]. but you should know—I don’t get flustered that easily. unless...” he pauses, giving you a teasing look, “...you do something even crazier next time.”
✧ you can’t help but smile back. sunday’s laid-back nature might be hard to crack, but it’s clear—he does enjoy the game, and in the end, he’s always up for a little bit of fun at your expense.
jing yuan
✧ jing yuan usually keeps his composure, but when you start “testing” his patience, he begins to crack ever so slightly.
✧ jing yuan is the epitome of calm, controlled elegance. he carries himself like a well-balanced scale, measured in his actions and words, always composed, always unfazed. but when you start testing him that balance teeters, just a little, though he’s careful to maintain his outward serenity.
✧ you know he's a man of patience, but every person has their breaking point—and you're curious to see how far you can push his.
✧ it all starts innocently enough, a bit of teasing and mild mischief on your part. you might "accidentally" misplace his paperwork, or maybe ask him endless trivial questions when you know he’s buried in his work. you’re not being cruel, of course—just playful, testing the waters to see if he’ll falter.
✧ he humors you at first, a chuckle escaping his lips when you ask something particularly silly. “what is it, my dear?” he asks, a gentle smile tugging at his lips, his golden eyes never leaving his work. “another question for me?”
✧ but as the questions come one after another, you start to notice a shift. his pen slows, and for a moment, his fingers still. he leans back in his chair, gaze lifting to meet yours.
“you’re playing a dangerous game, my dear,” he says, his voice low, but laced with amusement. “are you testing me to see if i’ll lose interest? because i can assure you, i won’t.”
✧ there’s a sharpness to his tone now, the calm facade slipping just slightly. it's subtle, but you catch it—a flicker of something deeper behind his eyes. his gaze darkens with an unreadable emotion, and for the first time, you wonder if you've pushed him too far.
✧ but you’re not one to back down easily, so you keep going, shifting the game into a new gear. you become a little more persistent, trying to get under his skin without being too obvious. you ask more ridiculous questions, throw in more distractions, all in the name of seeing how he reacts. surely, a man like jing yuan, so steady and composed, would get annoyed eventually, right?
✧ you watch him for a long moment, his gaze steady and unwavering. His fingers tap lightly on the edge of the desk, his lips curling into a knowing smile.
✧ "is that what you're after?" he asks, his voice softer, but with a certain challenge in it. "you wish to see how far i'll bend? to see if i can be swayed by such... antics?"
✧ your breath catches in your throat, and you wonder if you’ve finally crossed the line. but instead of growing irritated, jing yuan does something entirely unexpected. he sets his pen down with a deliberate motion and stands up, walking around to your side of the desk. his presence looms over you in the most comforting, yet commanding way.
✧ before you can even react, he reaches for your hand, his touch warm and steady. “i can’t help but wonder…” he begins, his voice dipping into something more intimate, more affectionate than you were prepared for. “did you think you could test me without consequences?”
✧ you blink up at him, the playful tension suddenly replaced by a sense of vulnerability. there’s something in his eyes now, a deep knowing.
✧ without waiting for an answer, he leans down, his lips brushing lightly against your ear. “you’re not the only one who can play games, [name],” he murmurs, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.
✧ you’re thrown off balance. the tables have turned, and now it’s you who’s feeling slightly flustered. where you were once testing him, now he’s testing you. he’s suddenly more attentive, more affectionate, drawing you in with every word, every touch.
✧ he chuckles softly when he sees your reaction, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. “you didn’t think i’d let you have all the fun, did you?” he teases. “i must admit, i’m rather enjoying this.”
✧ you open your mouth to respond, but all you manage is a soft laugh, caught between trying to keep your composure and wanting to give in to the sudden wave of warmth he’s throwing your way.
✧ “alright, jing yuan,” you say, trying to maintain your cool, but failing miserably. “i’ll admit defeat... for now.”
✧ his smile widens, a gentle but confident grin. “defeat? no, my dear. this isn’t about defeat. this is about knowing where we stand. and now that i’ve shown you, i expect no more games.”
✧ his words hang in the air like a promise, and you realize he’s not just testing you—he’s reassuring you, in his own way. with him, you never had to worry about being lost in his affection, because it’s clear: he’s always there, steady as ever.
✧ and just like that, the game you started has ended—only now, it’s more than you ever expected.
dan heng
✧ dan heng is the embodiment of calm and collected. his reserved nature and stoic expression almost never crack, even under the most trying of circumstances. it takes a lot to throw him off balance, which is why you’ve made it your mission to see if you can break that calm demeanor of his—just a little.
✧ at first, you start small. maybe you ask him to help you with something you’re perfectly capable of doing yourself, like reaching for a book you’re clearly just a bit too lazy to grab. you catch him off guard, but as expected, he’s kind enough to help without comment.
✧ “thank you, dan heng,” you say with an exaggerated sigh of relief.
✧ he gives you a short, quiet nod, his expression unchanged. “it’s no trouble,” he mutters, though there’s a faint suspicion in his voice.
✧ you smile innocently, but it’s not lost on you how quickly he’s growing aware of your game. so, you keep at it, asking for more and more “help” with things you’re fully capable of doing on your own. every time he obliges, you see his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and you can almost feel the gears turning in his head as he processes what's going on.
✧ “dan heng,” you ask one day, leaning into the playful tension between you two, “could you pass me the salt?” the shaker’s right in front of you, of course.
✧ there’s a long pause. his gaze flicks over to the salt shaker, then back to you, his brow furrowing just the tiniest bit. “you’re not really that helpless, are you?” he asks, his voice quiet but sharp.
✧ you feign surprise. “i’m not? you sure?”
✧ he doesn’t respond right away, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface of the table. you can practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes.
✧ “i know you’re not,” he says finally, voice even but tinged with a little irritation now. “so, what are you trying to prove?”
✧ you chuckle softly, realizing you’ve definitely gotten under his skin now. but it’s more out of curiosity than malice—you want to see how far you can go before he snaps, how long he’ll let you test him before he turns the tables.
✧ “oh, nothing,” you say innocently. “just wanted to see if you’d do it without asking questions.”
✧ dan heng’s eyes narrow, and for the first time in this little game, he seems to truly study you, as if trying to gauge your intentions.
✧ “you’re not as subtle as you think,” he finally says, his tone firm but not unkind. “you’re trying to get a reaction out of me, aren’t you?”
✧ you grin, leaning back with a satisfied look. “maybe... what’s the harm?”
✧ dan heng stands up from his seat, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he slowly gathers his things. you know you’ve pushed him a little, but you’re unsure if he’s genuinely upset or just playing along.
✧ “fine,” he mutters. “you want a reaction? here it is.”
✧ you blink as he steps closer, his usual reserved demeanor slipping as he looks down at you with a slight, almost imperceptible frown. “if i didn’t care about you, i wouldn’t even be here, helping you with these ridiculous requests. so, stop trying to push my patience.”
✧ you freeze for a moment, surprised at how direct and blunt he’s being. there’s no anger in his words—just a quiet frustration, the kind that comes from realizing how much you’ve been testing him.
✧ he lets out a short laugh, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe what he’s dealing with. “honestly, i’m not sure if you’re trying to get me to lose my patience or just see how far you can push me.”
✧ you smile sheepishly, knowing you’ve been a little relentless with your “tests.” “i guess a bit of both,” you admit, but there’s a softness in your voice now. “i just wanted to see if you’d care enough to call me out on it.”
✧ dan heng sighs deeply, but now there’s a warmth to his expression that wasn’t there before. he steps closer and places a hand gently on your shoulder, the touch more tender than you expected. “i care enough to call you out, even if it means putting up with your nonsense.”
✧ it’s quiet for a moment, but you can feel the sincerity in his words. you’ve definitely ruffled his calm, but in a way that shows just how much he’s paying attention, how much he truly cares for you.
✧ you laugh lightly, not expecting him to be so honest about it, but secretly glad to know you’ve gotten through to him. “i’ll try not to test you so much, okay?”
✧ dan heng shakes his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”
welt yang
✧ welt, being the mature and experienced gentleman he is, notices your little “test” immediately.
✧ the man is used to dealing with delicate matters, whether in his long history of research, his time as a historian, or the countless responsibilities that come with leading in times of crisis. so, when you start testing his patience, you know it’s going to take a lot more than a small inconvenience to shake him. that being said, you enjoy challenging him, just a little, to see how far you can push him.
✧ you start off small, of course. asking him the most trivial questions when he’s in the middle of reading one of his ancient books. “hey, welt,” you say sweetly, “do you think this book is boring?” the book’s not even in your hands, and he knows that you’re probably more interested in him than in the actual content of the text.
✧ at first, he doesn’t mind. he chuckles softly and lowers the book, humoring you with a small smile. “if i’m being honest, i would say it depends on your taste in reading. but you do know i can’t really afford distractions right now, right?”
✧ you smile, but this isn’t nearly enough to throw him off. you push again, dropping little hints like the fact that he’s been at his desk for hours on end and could probably use a break. you make a comment about how he’s always so serious, so focused, and maybe you should help him lighten up.
✧ “you know,” you tease, “you work too hard. you should take a break. come on, just for a minute?”
✧ welt sets the book down and looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “i’m not sure if i would call it ‘work’ if i’m doing something i enjoy, but i do appreciate the concern. perhaps you have something else in mind to keep me occupied?”
✧ his tone is light, playful even, but there’s something in his eyes that suggests he’s well aware of your intentions. he’s not the type to get easily upset, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t picked up on your little game.
✧ “you really know how to throw me off track, don’t you?” he says with a smile, clearly amused by your antics. “is this your way of seeing how far i’ll go before i lose my cool?”
✧ you grin, not backing down. “maybe. you seem so calm all the time. i wanted to know if i could make you flinch, just a little.”
✧ welt lets out a soft laugh, leaning back in his chair. “you’re testing me now, aren’t you? i suppose i should’ve expected as much from you.”
✧ you notice his hands move to the side of his glasses, adjusting them ever so slightly, and that’s when you realize: he’s fully aware of what’s going on.
✧ “you know, it’s cute that you think i’m impervious to distractions,” he continues, clearly enjoying your playful attempts. “but perhaps you underestimate how well i’ve learned to focus in the midst of chaos.”
✧ you can’t help but laugh at that, realizing that no matter how hard you try, you’re not going to make him flinch. he’s too smooth, too used to handling these kinds of things.
✧ “maybe i should stop testing you,” you say, a bit sheepishly. “you’re just too good at staying calm.”
✧ welt smiles knowingly. “i’ve had plenty of practice, but if you really want to test me further, i’m sure there are other ways to do so.” he leans forward, raising an eyebrow, his voice turning just a bit teasing. “but i’m not so easily caught off guard, dear. if you want to see me lose my composure, you’ll have to be a little more creative.”
✧ you blink in surprise at how easily he flipped the situation on its head, and then it dawns on you: you’ve just been outplayed.
✧ he notices the realization in your expression and gives you an amused glance. “now, if you’re really interested, i can give you some advice on how to keep your distractions less obvious in the future. but don’t expect me to fall for it again so easily.”
✧ you can’t help but laugh. “alright, alright, you win this round.”
✧ welt chuckles softly, picking up his book again. “it’s not about winning or losing, but about knowing how to handle what comes your way. and if you ever need a distraction, you know where to find me.”
✧ “but do you know, if you want reassurance, you only need to ask. i don’t play games when it comes to my feelings for you.” my man does NOT play when it comes to you!! 🙅‍♀️ 🙅‍♀️
blade
✧ he is stoic, so basically this feels like poking a sleeping tiger. you’d try to stress him out by being overly affectionate in public or daringly teasing him in front of the stellaron hunters.
✧ blade is a man of few words, and even fewer smiles. so when you start poking at him, trying to get a rise out of him, you know you’re walking a fine line. but that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? to see just how much you can push before he cracks.
✧ it starts with small, playful jabs. teasing him about his stoic nature, of course. you know he’s not the type to express himself easily, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to bring out something more from him.
✧ “blade, do you ever smile? i think i’d faint if i saw it.”
✧ you say it with a mischievous grin, watching for any sign of a reaction. his first response is the usual – a glare that could melt steel. but there’s something else in his eyes, a flicker of something that tells you he’s holding back a smirk. deep down, you know he secretly enjoys your antics.
✧ “you’re really trying to get me to laugh, aren’t you?” he says, his voice low and steady, though it has a hint of something playful beneath it.
✧ you push further, though, not willing to let up so easily. “come on, blade. you can’t possibly be that serious all the time. it’s like you’re stuck in permanent brooding mode.”
✧ and that’s when the situation takes a turn. before you can even process it, he grabs your wrist with surprising speed, pulling you close, his voice dropping even lower, sending a shiver down your spine.
✧ “you think i’d waste my time with someone i didn’t care about? don’t test me.”
✧ his words come with an intensity that you didn’t expect, his presence so overpowering that it almost takes the air out of your lungs. you blink, momentarily taken aback, but you don’t back down. the playful teasing lingers in the air, even though you can tell that you’ve crossed the line.
✧ but blade, in his own way, seems to realize that. after a moment, he releases his grip on your wrist, letting out a quiet sigh. the edge of his tone softens, just slightly.
✧ “you’re important to me,” he mutters, his voice low but genuine. “stop doubting that.”
✧ there’s no grand declaration, no flowery words. just the blunt honesty of a man who’s difficult to read, yet in his own way, he’s showing you something far deeper than what words could ever convey.
✧ you watch him for a moment, realizing that, despite all his coldness, there’s a warmth buried deep beneath the surface – one that he’s not so quick to reveal, but it’s there, unmistakable in its own quiet way.
✧ “i guess i’ll just have to take your word for it, huh?” you say with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood once more.
✧ blade doesn’t respond with a smile, but the slightest hint of amusement flickers in his eyes. and maybe, just maybe, that’s his version of a win.
sampo koski
✧ sampo loves games, so he immediately plays along with your little “test.”
✧ sampo has always been the life of the party, the one with a smile on his face and a witty comeback ready for anything. so when you start throwing him off with your uncharacteristic seriousness, it’s like throwing a wrench in his well-oiled machine of flirtations.
✧ you don’t laugh at his jokes, you don’t play along with his flirtations, and you certainly don’t give him the usual banter he’s used to. instead, you respond with an almost eerie level of calm.
✧ “oh? no witty comeback today? you’re scaring me, sweetheart,” he teases, leaning back, watching you with an exaggerated frown as though he’s genuinely concerned. you can see the twinkle in his eyes, but he’s trying to hold it together.
✧ at first, you don’t budge. you just stare at him, deadpan, giving nothing away.
✧ he blinks a few times, clearly thrown off. then, he lets out a dramatic sigh. “oh no, what’s happening? is this… a breakup? did i mess up somehow? what did i do wrong? i can change! i swear, i’ll stop with the flirtations—i’ll even stop trying to steal your snacks!" he says, eyes widening as though he's on the verge of a crisis.
✧ the way he overacts is so ridiculous that it’s hard to keep a straight face. but you’re committed, your expression still unreadable as you let him stew in the nonsense he’s coming up with.
✧ when you finally can’t hold it in anymore and let out a soft laugh, his entire demeanor shifts. in an instant, his playful grin is back, and he pulls you into a sudden hug.
✧ “sweetheart, if i didn’t like you, i wouldn’t stick around this long. but nice try!” he says between chuckles, his voice playful and warm.
✧ you can’t help but smile at his antics. he may act like he’s been genuinely stressed out, but deep down, you know he’s been enjoying every minute of your teasing.
✧ he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling mischievously. “you really had me going there for a second. but hey, now i know you care enough to test me. i’ll take it as a compliment.”
✧ you shake your head, still amused by his dramatic performance. “don’t ever change, sampo.”
✧ he winks at you, his usual grin returning in full force. “don’t worry, sweetheart, i’m never going to change… unless it’s to make you laugh more.”
luocha
✧ luocha is patient and gentle, but even he has his limits. you’d try to test him by asking endless hypothetical questions about relationships or intentionally making vague statements about your feelings.
✧ when you start throwing questions his way, testing his patience with doubts about his feelings, you know he’ll handle it with the same serenity he always exudes. but the longer it goes on, the more you start to wonder if you’re pushing him too far.
✧ “what if someone better came along?” you ask casually, watching his expression for a hint of reaction. it’s a harmless question in your mind, but you can tell he takes it seriously.
✧ he pauses, his hand resting gently on his chin, thinking it through before answering with his usual calmness. “if someone better came along, then you’d deserve to find happiness with them, just as I would wish for your happiness no matter the circumstances.”
✧ his response isn’t what you expected. it’s thoughtful, selfless, and it makes you question your own intentions. but you can’t help yourself – you press on, seeking reassurance in the form of his steady words.
✧ “but what if you don’t feel the same as you did before? what if you find someone who catches your eye more than me?”
✧ luocha’s gaze softens as he listens to your words. there’s no anger in his eyes, no irritation. only concern, as if he’s trying to understand why you would even think such a thing. his voice remains calm, but now there’s a slight edge to it, as if the question weighs on him more than you realize.
✧ “are you trying to test me?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his brow furrowing just enough to show he’s genuinely curious. “i hope you know i mean every word i’ve said to you. my feelings are not something i take lightly.”
✧ you’re taken aback, your mind racing as you realize just how much this is affecting him. you weren’t trying to hurt him; you just wanted to see if he truly cared. but now, the weight of your questions hangs heavy in the air.
✧ seeing the uncertainty in your eyes, he lets out a small, almost imperceptible sigh. he reaches out, taking your hand in his, offering you a reassuring smile that radiates warmth.
✧ “there’s no need for doubt,” he says softly, his voice gentle yet firm. “my feelings for you are genuine, and they won’t change based on fleeting insecurities. you are the only one i see, the only one i care for.”
✧ his words carry a weight that resonates deep within you, his sincerity undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of relief washing over you.
✧ “i’m sorry,” you say, a little embarrassed by how far you’ve pushed him. “i didn’t mean to make you doubt how much i care.”
✧ luocha chuckles softly, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. “it’s alright,” he says, his voice filled with understanding. “i know you’re just seeking reassurance. but i hope this is enough to put your mind at ease.”
✧ you nod, grateful for his patience and the depth of his affection. his unwavering calmness and the way he handles your doubts only make you feel even more certain that, with him, you never need to worry about someone else coming along.
Tumblr media
note: if you would like to be added to the honkai star rail taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy
taglist 🏷️:  @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..
liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!
220 notes · View notes
bubblingbowie · 22 hours ago
Note
just read your little logan smut with flower mutant!reader. ugh!! it was literally so sweet !! all the little nicknames for her “his flustered girl?” “the sweetest thing.” UGH i’m clawing my hair out it’s so good.
it made me think like what happens if he were to like overstimulate her or something. or maybe she’s had a bad day, or logan had been out on a mission and she misses him. and so when he gets back and pounds her into the mattress, bc duh obviously he missed his girl, little vines of some climbing flower wrap around his arms where he holds her, and eventually up his biceps, around his waist where they can sprawl over his abs, all of her favorite places of logan. and obviously she doesn’t realize it bc she’s too lost in how logan makes her feel and how much she missed him.
oh and maybe when she realizes, they start to retract because she’s so embarrassed !! and logan’s all like “hey, now don’t pull away from me, pretty girl,” and just kisses every inch of her and holds her close. please i’m obsessed. logan and his pretty flower girl are all i need !!!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n: YALLLL she's back. i literally had a whole other fic i was writing but this ask shot me and i just had to so thank u anon :) i will post the other fic soon but for now! be kind to me work has been busy i love uuuu enjoy!
Logan Howlett x f!reader | 18+ i'll bop you between ya eyes | flower!mutant :)
you all but jump into Logan's arms. 19 hours away; of silence. it was necessary for his stupid mission but agony for his darling love back at their cabin in the woods. he couldn't even make it inside, you ran out so he wouldn't have to find you in the house. "hey, sweet-pea." he gruffs, your eyes just beaming. he sure doesn't miss the dandelions that you leave behind with each step.
"about time! you said you'd be home by ten! god i was worried sick, i-i didn't know if i should cook dinner or not so there's nothing to eat." you babble, worried and running up the wall with meaningless stress. he just watches with a keen eye.
his hand ushers to your head, petting so sweetly to calm you down. "hey. hey. 'm alright, dolly. don't even care about dinner." and then the softest kiss to your forehead. "just happy you're here." like you'd be gone when he came back.
you're relaxed in his palm, eyes glued up to him. it's like he never left you. "bought some whiskey for you though." oh he's dating an angel, he knows it. and your proud smile just sends him in a frenzy of wanting to sip and stay with you in the living room or carry you over his shoulder to your bed. he wants the latter so badly.
he chuckles lowly and wraps his big burly arms wrap around your waist, his nose nudging under your ear. "too kind to me, baby." he murmurs. your all too familiar scent envelopes him and the switch is flipped. he has you to himself again. and Logan is just sooo greedy for his girl.
greedy and impatient. he all but shoves his large backpack into the corner of your shared room before you're thrown on the gentle plushness of the comforter. and you even made the bed for him, his sweetest girl. he's panting, eyes blown while your sweater rises up on your skin. the most he can do while he's crawling towards you is press the softest pecks on your knees and the front of your calves.
"missed you so bad." you're heart flips in its place, the sight of big bad Wolverine slinking slowly up your legs worshipping every inch he saw just too much.
"it was only a day." you chuckle, a hazy grin on your lips. your hands trail down to his hair, running through it with a smile. its fuel to the fire.
there's a small nip onto your thigh from the comment. "you say that like i don't need you every fucking minute of the it." he's quick to peel off pesky clothing in the way of the grand prize. both your tops and your own shorts were laid lazily on the floor. Logan nearly ripped it all off, his teeth baring a few times with how wanton he seemed. it's just you in your cute cotton panties and he aches all over for you. "can i? christ- lemme have you dolly, please?" you gulp, cheeks red and knees weak.
"please. yes please, need you so bad" oh how you're eyes go wide when you're desperate. Logan's hand gliding up and up your abdomen, a soft gleam shown with how smooth you've stayed. fingers run over the breasts he's worshipped so many times. after all that's been done, you've stayed his sweetest girl. so sweet you'd let him fuck you silly so quickly!
🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻
"i know sweetie, so deep, ain't i? jus' feel good, petal" he cooed so sweetly with your legs on his shoulders, pressed so lean against the silk pillowcases (bought by you but loved the most by Logan).
"oh fuck! 's so good, god-!" your eyes were screwed shut. you couldn't keep up, it always happens. senses get clogged up with how his dick stretches you so nice. all you hear is the quickness of skin on skin, his movement so unforgiving. you see Logan with a slacked jaw from how sloppy he's gotten you even within the few moments he's had you back in his arms.
but what you feel? you feel heaven and light all at once. you feel loved and loving, your skin melting into his. wanting him closer. to stay. on Logan's end, he's relishing in your sweet noises. just working along to keep your legs shaking, keep those warm tears falling down your cheeks, keep those vines growing your skin onto his hands rested on your waist. Logan does a double take.
the vines. oh shit. gardening again! just like those weeks ago with the wisteria. he remembers how red you were when your eyes laid upon those flowers. poor thing, your first thought was you hurt him. sure, like your mind would ever let yourself harm him. he prays it's a normal occurrence now, maybe he's a good man after all if you're so willing. a beautiful creation he has laid out so beautifully and for him?
yeah, you're growing more for him. "thas' it dolly, just feel good. you like my cock so bad? hm?" in your head, he's just talking about how you've gone limb from how the head of his cock rams deep into what feels like your gut. makes you so dumb you nod eagerly. he grins. the vines grow and grow to where they keep his hands attached to curve of your lower back. he can't loose you in all this now, can he?
Logan's just happy you've had your eyes welted shut focused on the bliss he's giving you, moaning like it's second nature. you were a vision beyond anything he'd seen with your charming trailing plants making him keep fucking into you. even the most darling buds pop next to the leaves.
"some pretty flowers for me too, huh?" Logan curses himself for saying that when your eyes meekly open, the words unfamiliar from his lips when it came to being fucked into a mattress. and then they're quarters from there. wide and beady while watching the fruits of your labor spinning and twisting up your lovers arms while he fucks you so good.
"oh...L-Lo, ah! i'm sorry i'll stop- fuck!" you really wanted to be sorry and pitying, to cry more than you were but from sheer humiliation. not from blinding pleasure. but maybe the vines had the good idea. they're not constricting yet not too different from your clawing hands onto his back.
he simply shakes his head. "nah. nah, keep em. lemme see it all, petal, please." embarrassment subsides. it's your Logan! there's no need for it. your shoulders relax with your head lulling back into the pillow, too cock drunk to think of ever letting this stop. more vines blossom onto his broad shoulders now. he'd be covered by the end of the night at this rate. "good girl, there we go..." the vines were kind enough to let his arm bend down to your cheeks pressing haste kisses on your flushed skin, peppering and spoiling you for you compliance. always so eager to please. his filthy girl.
he's insatiable, eager for more. his hips buck into you with more intent. to push you over, to have you more intimately. or to put it plainly, to feel you cum hard on his cock. and with how you clench around him with your little noises of "ah! ah! ah!" his lips capture yours in a sloppy kiss. all teeth while he drinks in every muffled moan. you just taste like fucking candy everywhere he puts his mouth, you're magic incarnate. in all his blistering years barely alive he's never known a feeling like having you below him so desperate to have his cock.
he doesn't know it but his stroke are getting messy. he's getting close and you're right behind him, your back arching into the sheets. he has to move his hands. his knuckles feel raw where those three shiny blades seep out. Logan's all too familiar with it. though he didn't think moving your flora would be so easy when detaching his hands to avoid an accidental injury to his lady.
fingers wrap around the bed frame with another large palm cradling your head to face him. you face the foliage you've made on his shoulders, and now, his chest. what a sight. seeing the ivy leaves decorate him and his specially carved abs.
oh you were a weak woman. "fuck, 'm gonna cum! more, please gimme more-" you cry out, now pulling him in by those strong stems able to carry while buildings. no longer auto pilot. you're all too aware. he groans, eyes nearly rolling in the back of his head.
"doin' that on purpose now, bub" oh you were. you simply wanted his fat cock deeper for when he unloads inside your poor pussy. you smile with mischief. his brows furrow. his pace picks up once more, groans turning to growls while the bed shakes with the direction force from his hands. beastly man he was . "cum with me, baby. cum on this cock and i'll fill ya up. i'll get y'so full, whatever you want"
and that's was all you needed for you're poor hole to clench violently while you drip down his thighs with a broken cry out. the vines tighten then expand, crawling out onto the bed with a poof. even cuter, the flowers bloom. he relishes in seeing his girls pretty pussy make a mess on him he just needs to return the favor. feeling the subtle clenching from your orgasm, he's cumming with one last mean buck of the hips.
"fucking christ-!" his claws unsheathe into the wall, his other set of knuckles driving into the mattress next to you while he grinds slowly to dump every drop into you. his veins on his forehead nearly pop, his eyes only watching your glossy pupils zeroed on abs. so shameless you were. he pants out with his entire body breathing with him.
he settles slowly, his claws reeling back from exhaustion. your plants remain however. yet he's only settled on you. his hands begin their soothing, his thumbs caressing your cheeks while you catch your breathe. "easy now. you okay? did i hurt you at all?" your head shakes in his grasp, eyes lazily opening to meet his eyes. your poor guy, he thinks anytime those knives come out around you he'll dice you on accident.
"spooked me." you mumble, but half heartedly. the smile on your lips shows it's a joke. Logan only huffs.
"it's only hot when you loose control." you gasp, a hand playfully patting his arm clad with your leaves. he chuckles while pressing a kiss to your forehead.
his sweetest flower, back in his arms again.
🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻
dt: @nervous-person @clownprinzzzz
ask for a dt ! ! ! !
219 notes · View notes
seasprincess · 3 days ago
Text
nerd!rafe x popular!reader
mdni
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
warnings: smut-handjob, pathetic sub!rafe, this is not cannon Rafe AT ALL
Rafe Cameron is a quiet nerdy boy with about no friends. Where as you, you’re loud and popular, friends with everyone.
Ever since you had joined the school Rafe’s eyes have been on you. Watching you laugh and smile with the people that flocked to you like moths to a flame.
He couldn’t help admire you in a way. But mainly he was admiring your beauty.
He has never spoken to you of course. God no he wouldn’t dream of it. Well that’s not entirely true.
He’s dreamt of it, thought of it, imagined it while his hand was around his length. But not in a perv way of course. No no. Not in the way the other boys do it. In a sweet way. Right?
But no, he couldn’t talk to you. In the world of high school. Rafe isn’t allowed to talk to you. He’s too ‘low’ for you. Which he thinks is stupid but he can’t rewrite the social laws of the school.
So he’ll just sit in class staring at you instead of doing his work. Not like he needs to do more work in class. He’s smart enough to pass a test with just a glance. So here he’ll sit waiting for his chance to talk to you properly. Instead of that couple times you were sweet to him, sticking up for him and that one time he said thank you for you holding open the door. And god did that thought make his heart beat.
But soon enough, here’s his lucky day.
“Rafe, you’ll be working with y/n.” The teachers words ring in his head as his eyes are pulled up from the desk. He turns to face you and sees that you’re looking at him. And he c-wait-you’re looking at him.
He does a double take before seeing you wave at him. A small gesture that means so much to him you don’t even know. So he does a wave back. But he’s shy and awkward so now he’s stressing that he looked weird and seeing your friends giggling and whispering doesn’t help the feeling he’s embarrassed himself.
So quickly he turns away, back to the page on his desk. Drawing random lines on it to make it appear he’s doing something. Doing anything other than looking at you and gawking.
Why does he have to be so shy and embarrassing? Why can’t he be like the popular people like Bryce and Zach? They can just talk to everyone and just be confident all the time. He hates himself for his anxiety that is in the bottom of his stomach everytime anyone even breathes to close to him. He hates it so much th-
“Hey partner.” Rafe’s brought out of his spiral of thoughts when you speak to him. He’s frozen looking up at you, is this real? Or is he dreaming?
“H-hey.” He says, pushing up his glasses on his face as he adjust in his chair.
“So when we doing this project?”
“Anytime. Anytime that’s good for you, I’m free. Like all the time. I’m not doing…anything.” Rafe decides to stop himself from babbling and making himself look like a complete and utter loser.
But all you’re doing is smiling at him. Not pulling the disgusted face he’s use to.
“Tomorrow night? My place?”
“Yeah sure.”
“Cool, don’t have snap so I can send you the info?” You say as you pull out your phone. Waiting for him to respond to you.
Rafe rubs the back of his neck as he thinks how to reply to this. He couldn’t say that his mom doesn’t allow him to have social media and even if he was to have it he wouldn’t have enough friends anyway.
“No. I don’t use snap anymore.” He lies.
“Oh right okay. Insta? Tiktok?”
Rafe just shakes his head.
“I can give you my number?”
“Yeah sure okay.”
Rafe gets out his phone, a tiny phone that was probably made eight years ago that his mom told him was ‘cool and trendy’. She’s so wrong it almost hurts.
Rafe had been waiting and waiting for this day. Yes the plans were arranged yesterday but he’s just so excited it’s almost sad really.
But after making his way to your house and you giving him a tour of the mansion you live in. You’re now both sat on your bed.
He’s in your room.
On your bed.
“No you’ll have to tutor me.” You say as you smile before looking back at the work that’s in front of you. You’re laying on the bed as Rafe is sat stiff.
“Tutor you?” Rafe asks, adjusting his glasses again for the second time this minute.
“Well we’re doing this project and I don’t get what it’s about so you’ll have to help me.”
Earlier when Rafe started talking about the project he had presumed that he’d been doing it all himself like he’d usually do with other people. But you insisted you’d actually help. Even if you have been distracted a couple times.
“Yeah sure.” Rafe replies as he smiles, looking down at you. He’s rather close to you it’s making his heart beat so fast. If it beats any faster it’ll pop out his chest like in those cartoons. His eyes might also pop out his head too. We’re just waiting for that.
God he’s so close to you he can smell that perfume you wear every day to school. It hasn’t changed since the first time he met you.
He’s just watching you lay on your stomach on the bed, writing down some things. He just can’t seem to pull his eyes away from you. You just look so beautiful and calm. Of course he has to go and ruin it.
He’s just staring, and before he thinks he leans in and kisses you. His soft lips pressing against yours until he realises what’s happened and pulls back.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He says as he starts panicking. Of course he’s ruining things like he always does. He may be smart when it comes to academics but he’s so stupid when it comes to social situations.
But all you do is smile. Just smile at him before pushing up and climbing onto his lap.
“Oh, oh. Okay…” He says as he holds his breath and looks anywhere but you. His hands don’t touch you. Just in the air, frozen in place by this very unexpected action from you.
So you place his hands on yours hips looking at him before your hands are placed on his cheeks. Gently rubbing them as you look down at him.
“You have a crush on me Rafe?”
Rafe nods as he stares into your eyes. He’s too shy to say anything, and also incredibly aroused by having you here. On his lap. His hand sneaks as he brings it close to his face to adjust his glasses. He look looks up at you like a puppy.
He’s so cute and shy it makes him all the more attractive to you. Some people think he’s all these things but unknown to him you’ve always had some feelings for him. Even if you did try and stop them.
Your hand travels downs Rafe’s body until it reaches his zipper. His dick twitching in his pants as he lets out a low whine. He’s so pathetic it’s so hot to you.
“You want me to touch you Rafe?”
This has escalated very quickly, and as scary it is to Rafe. It’s very exciting for Rafe too. He’s never even held hands with a girl. Or spoken to one for longer than thirty minutes. Twenty minutes. Ten minutes at best.
“Yes please.” He whines out as he wriggles lightly underneath you, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He has thought about thus situation before but this is not how he was expecting at all.
You smile as you start to kiss him, lips pressing softly against Rafe’s. His lips are soft, different to what you’ve kissed before. Your tongue slips into his mouth which is met by more whines from the boy underneath you.
Your hand slips into Rafe’s pants and before he can say a word you start to stroke him. His dick hard and leaking with precum. He feels slightly embarrassed but that’s quickly stopped as you begin to go faster. And all he can think about is how good it feels and how much better it is than his own hand.
The moans and whimper from this man is heavenly. Making those panties you chose to wear just for him wet.
“Please, please can I cum?” Rafe is begging for this. Begging for this release from you. His whole body is practically shaking. He knows he’s acting needy and pathetic. But he can’t help it. He’s practically brainwashed by you.
He’s a man who could genuinely have any job he’s ever wanted but here he is whining for you. Whinging and moaning and begging. A possible future president is begging to cum.
“Yeah baby. Cum for me.”
You will definitely be doing this again.
a/n: don’t know how to feel about this one and i am still upset over bae’s eyebrows.
190 notes · View notes
jifloulette · 2 days ago
Text
heads up . . ! not proofread.. 0.7k wrds!
Tumblr media
you should be used to these midnight break-ins of shidou by now. he was your boyfriend after all and you didn't really tell him that he wasn't allowed to do it, you just gave him a reminder to text you if he were to do so. but him texting you meant giving you a heads up at least an hour before he was going to break in! though this attitude of your lover was something you were already familiar with..
now here he was, knocking on your bedroom window ever so quietly as to not wake up anyone else inside the house. you had just read the message he sent you three minutes ago and now he was already here, you knew he was fast in terms of running but to have walked that long from his place to yours in that small amount of time and without sweating seemed absolutely impossible??
"heyyyy baby!", shidou said in a low yet excited tone. he gives you a quick peck on the lip before going inside your bedroom. you looked obviously annoyed and he doesn't know why, he did give you a message before climbing up to the second floor of the house... "why'd you come here in such a short notice? you could've at least given me a bit of time to clean up and look good, you know!" you scold him to which he laughs and responds by giving you another quick peck on your forehead. "what were you doing here anyways? yer room's so messy..", he asks to which you just scoff and go back to your laptop, working on finishing this project of yours that was supposed to be due during christmas break, who even gives projects during christmas anyway??
it didn't even reach his usual three minute mark of bothering you before he pulled you out of your chair to a tight embrace on your bed, he seemed much more needy than last time but who you were to worry about that now? you were already working on something and here was your big baby of a boyfriend holding you in his arms as if it was a lifeline of his. "shidou! i'm literally working on the same project that i was doing when you barged here the last few times this week!", you remind him as you try to get off of him but really, your strength couldn't compare to his so it was useless. "okay okay, but do you reaaally need to be working on that now? ya could just do it the second i leave which would be in another hour or so!"
this was like a regular thing for him now, to give you a message five minutes before knocking on your window, then pulling you aside whatever you were working on after waiting at least three minutes, and then you'll just stay in his embrace the whole time he was there. that's how frequently these midnight break-ins occurred, you had memorized how long shidou took to send you a chat and to climb up to your bedroom. "how'd you even get here so quickly anyways.. it's at least a few kilometers from here to yours and you sent that message 3 minutes before already knocking at my window?" you ask, "well, i was already in front of your house when i sent it, just waited a bit before getting up here" he replied before giving you a kiss on your forehead. and before you knew it, you were already fast asleep on his chest, your project being long forgotten once again. even if shidou really wanted to hold you in his arms for as long as the night lasted, he was bound to be caught by your parents if he did. so once he knew that you were deep in your slumber, he laid you on your bed and put a blanket on top of you. but before he left, he needed to do one last thing.
when you woke up, you could've swore your bedroom did not look this.. clean? or unorganized? it looked like your boyfriend did a semi-good job of tidying it up, it still looked better than what it originally looked last night. you check your phone before seeing a message sent of 2:04 am — "heh.. cleaned ur room because im such a good boyfriend arent i??? make sure to gimme a kiss latr as a thank you gift ;)"
Tumblr media
©🇯​​🇮​​🇫​​🇱​​🇴​​🇺​​🇱​​🇪​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​, do not steal, translate, or repost any of my writings anywhere else. ౨ৎ
170 notes · View notes
milunalupin · 2 days ago
Note
hi!! i was wondering if you could write a one shot for one of the mauraders?? you can choose which one (i was kinda picturing sirius) but one where he’s usually really confident around women and has a reputation for dating a lot but he develops a crush on you and loses every ounce of smoothness when you talk to him and the other mauraders tease him about it? only if you want:)
thank you so much for your request lovely ! i also thought of sirius when reading this so here he is !!
— cool cat
sirius black x reader ★ 409 words
"She's just a girl."
This was embarrassing. There he was, all rugged and tough looking in his beater gear, with his tail between his legs just because he caught sight of you looking as pretty as you did. You stood next to Lily, who had stopped by to chat with James after their Quidditch practice.
"You can talk to girls, you're Sirius Black." But as soon as you turned your head, your eyes meeting his, all his bravado crumbled. "Not as lovely as her, definitely not."
His heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively took a step back, trying to compose himself, but it was already too late.
James's voice rang out from across the pitch. "Oi, Padfoot! Stop hiding behind the post and come say hello!"
Sirius’s face flushed a deep shade of red, a rare sight for the usually smooth and composed Gryffindor. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of control, but he felt like a fool, the usual swagger he carried replaced by awkward steps.
“Come on, Sirius, you’re not afraid of a simple chat, are you?” you teased as he approached, clearly noticing how out of sorts he was.
"I—uh, I wasn’t… I wasn’t avoiding you or anything," he stammered, immediately cursing his own words. "Just—uh, you caught me off guard, that’s all."
Lily rolled her eyes, nudging James. "Oh, this is rich. Who knew our Sirius was so… shy?"
You smiled, clearly enjoying the show. “Shy? I don’t know about that,” you said with a teasing tilt of your head. “I’ve seen you charm half the girls in the school. Never thought I'd see the day you’d be the one tongue-tied.”
Sirius felt his face warm even more, realizing how ridiculous he must look. Pull it together, he told himself. “Tongue-tied? Not at all.” He forced a confident grin. “Just giving you a taste of my mystery. You know, keep things interesting.”
You bit back a grin, your expression turning more teasing. “Mystery, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?”
Sirius felt a flicker something—something he couldn’t quite name. “Oh, I’m full of surprises.”
James clapped him on the back, nearly sending him off balance. “Sirius Black, the master of charm, ladies and gentlemen,” he teased, looking like he was barely holding in his laughter.
You smiled at him, clearly enjoying the rare moment of vulnerability. "Don’t worry, Black. I’m not going to bite."
"Oh, I'm sure he'd love-"
"James!"
118 notes · View notes
chris-prank · 3 days ago
Note
New content!!! Finally my obsessed brain can shut up for a moment about these lil guys
I am curious, how would the boys react to the reader wearing something in their favourite colour? Like a scarf wrapped around the reader's neck that's white bc Vincent likes it.
- Anon💤 (P.S. I hope this isn't a bother but I am planning on sending many asks bc I don't want to forget them!) (P.S.S. Love your stuff!!)
Thank you!!!!
And I will gladly feed your brain with more yandere boys stuff so don’t worry you’re not a bother!💪🏻
・*:.。..。.:*・*:.。..。.:*・
Vincent would feel so honored if you had a scarf in his favourite colors, especially if you made it yourself, because he also uses your favorite color on different things to show his love for you (which you’ll see in the part 2 of his story 👀)
“Does your scarf have a special meaning… or is it just l-like this?” He looked up at you with way too much hope for it to simply be an innocent question, “oh em… I’m just curious, that's all!”
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
Esteban would be so cocky about it, like no matter what you tell him he wouldn’t leave you alone whether or not you are in a relationship.
“Did you pick that one because of me?” Esteban leaned his face closer to yours, trying to decipher a blush, “aw come on! No need to deny it!”
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
Atlas would be staring into your soul, because he would be intrigued yet he’d never entertain the idea that you wear it because of him. He would subconsciously be very happy, like a subtle blush on his cheeks, every time you would wear it. If you tell him he will be stunned at the idea that you cared so much as to remember his favorite colour.
“You choose it… because of me?” Atlas whispered contemplatively, while his fingers played with the edge of the fabric, “Does that mean I’m important to you?”
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
Martin would silently note that you’re wearing his favourite color, cheering internally. In his mind, you became so close that you started to, unconsciously, wear clothes that links you to him. He might even start giving you things in his favourite colour.
“That’s really your colour darlin’ you should wear it more often.” He pulled you flush against him, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
Jacce already had the habit of stealing borrowing your clothes, but seeing you wear his favourite colour makes him lose it. This article of clothing will, without a doubt, become his favorite, meaning you’ll only see it again once it loses your scent.
“You should leave that to me!” Jacce exclaimed, with a hint of anxiousness, as he took the dirty laundry basket from you,“I’ll em— take good care of it!”
・*:.。..。.:*・*:.。..。.:*・
Just Jacce being freaky as usual, don't mind him
87 notes · View notes
14dayswithyou · 3 hours ago
Text
I literally have the most amazing and wonderful community in the entire world???? T_T In this essay, I will—
This is going to be raw and unedited because I want to get my initial thoughts out there before I forget n go back to crying /pos, but?? Yawl.... I can't even begin to find the words to express how appreciative and grateful I am for each and every one of you!! ;v;
I've spent the past few hours reading through everyone's personally written messages, then rereading them all again to let it all fully sink in. I'm being genuine when I say that I've never felt this loved or appreciated in any community before in my life.
Those in the Discord server might know about this already, but since the start of this year, I haven't really been enjoying myself (nor have I been as active) in the yandere VN community. There was far too much infighting between devs, parasocial communities, and toxic anons that ruined so much for me — so I withdrew from it all and remained in my own small bubble. Even then, I still got belittled, harassed, doxxed, and even became the target of Tall Poppy Syndrome by others; most of which nearly made me want to leave altogether, but the overflowing amount of support from everyone in the 14DWY community made me want to stay.
And even now, after reading all those heartfelt messages... I think it's permanently solidified the little space I occupy here on the internet :3
So... Yeah, long story short (and a story that will likely end up as its own separate Tumblr post gjskskjd), I wasn't enjoying myself at all in the yandere VN community... but I did have the time of my life in the 14DWY community. And it's all thanks to you guys.
I'm genuinely sooooo proud to have such an endlessly kind, social, and talented community; and I'm glad to have brought such an interactive and friendly group of people together over our shared interest in such a nice concept. 14DWY is essentially a labour of my love — and although I'm ultimately creating it for me and my silly interests — it's still something that I want to make worthy of you guys as well. All the love and support you've shown me and 14DWY motivates me to do my very best, and y'all deserve nothing less. So...
Thank you all for finding a comfort character in my Totally Normal Guy and his Totally Not Eccentric quirks. Thank you for all the insanely talented creations y'all make and share with me. Thank you for sending in your silly (/pos) questions and turning them into inside jokes and AUs for the rest of the community to enjoy. Thank you for talking with me and making this space a genuinely fun place for me to be in again.
From the bottom of my heart; thank you all so much. I really hope everyone has had an amazing year so far, and I hope 2025 will be as kind to you as you all were towards me.
I also want to give a big fat massive huuuuuuuge shout-out to Ashe / @flaneur001 my love (/p) for organising the 14DWY letter event on Discord, and for contributing so much of their time and dedication to the 14DWY community. You say you've only been part of the community for a year, but to me, that was a year well cherished and appreciated. The 14DWY community (and me especially) have all been so lucky to spend this past year with you, and I sincerely hope you've enjoyed it as much as we have. You've done so much for me, the community, and the 14DWY Discord server, so it's only fair that you get the recognition you deserve. So thank you, Ashe!! And a big thank you to everyone in the 14DWY Discord who participated in this event as well!
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some cryin and sobbin to do <3 /silly /pos
108 notes · View notes
mattsobvimyfav · 14 hours ago
Text
Tumblr media
neighbor (matthew sturniolo)
pt 9-
WARNING- SMUT
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, and I groaned, burying my face deeper into Matt’s chest to escape it. The faint sound of shouting from downstairs made my eyes flutter open, and I quickly realized the noise wasn’t part of some dream.
“Do you hear that?” I mumbled, my voice raspy from sleep.
Matt stirred beside me, his arm still draped over my waist. “Yeah…” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What the hell is going on?”
The yelling got louder, followed by the sound of something clattering onto the floor.
We both sat up in unison, exchanging a look before scrambling out of bed. I slipped on a pair of shorts and pulled my hair into a messy bun, not bothering to make myself look remotely presentable as Matt tugged on a shirt. Together, we hurried downstairs, the chaos growing louder with each step.
When we reached the kitchen, the scene before us was… something. Charlie stood by the stove, trying to salvage a plate of scrambled eggs while Chris frantically waved a towel at Nick, who was hopping around and holding his arm. A streak of bacon grease was smeared across his shirt, and he was cursing loudly.
“What the hell is going on?” Matt demanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Nick turned to us, his expression caught somewhere between pain and disbelief. “Your brother,” he said, jabbing a finger at Chris, “is a menace! He spilled bacon grease on me!”
“It was an accident!” Chris shot back, still flailing the towel in Nick’s direction. “You shouldn’t have been standing so close!”
“Why were you even cooking bacon in the first place?” Matt asked, clearly trying to suppress a laugh.
Charlie turned around, holding up a plate piled high with pancakes and a sheepish grin on her face. “We were trying to make you guys breakfast,” she explained. “You know, as a congrats for finally getting along and not killing each other.”
I blinked at her, my heart melting a little despite the absolute disaster around us. “That’s… really sweet,” I said, stepping forward and taking the plate from her. “But also very chaotic.”
“It was going fine until he”—Nick pointed at Chris again—“decided to reenact some Gordon Ramsay move and flipped the pan too hard.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t trying to flip it hard, it just—”
“Can we focus on the fact that I’M IN PAIN?” Nick interrupted dramatically, holding out his arm for effect.
I handed the plate of pancakes to Matt and grabbed Nick’s wrist, inspecting the red mark where the grease had landed. “You’re fine,” I said with a smirk. “You’ll survive.”
Matt was already diving into the pancakes, grinning as he spoke. “Thanks for the breakfast. Totally worth the drama.”
Charlie beamed, looking proud of herself despite the mess. “You’re welcome.”
I glanced back at Chris, who was now trying to mop up the spilled grease on the floor, and couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, but next time, maybe just stick to cereal. Deal?”
“Deal,” they all said in unison, Nick grumbling a bit louder than the rest.
Matt and I settled at the table as the rest of the group finished cleaning up. Despite the chaotic start, it felt like a perfect morning—messy, loud, and full of the people I cared about most.
After breakfast, Matt and I decided to retreat back upstairs. I was still full from the feast, and craving some quiet time. The moment we stepped into my room, Matt shut the door behind us and smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief.
“Finally,” he muttered, climbing onto the bed and hovering over me.
I barely had time to catch my breath before his lips were on my neck, trailing soft, slow kisses along the sensitive skin. A quiet moan escaped my lips, and I felt his smile against my skin. His hands slid under the hem of my shirt, teasingly grazing my waist as he kissed lower, sending shivers through my whole body.
Just as his lips reached my collarbone, the door burst open.
“Hey, have you seen my jean shorts?” Charlie asked casually, stepping inside without so much as a glance at us.
Matt groaned loudly, rolling off me and flopping onto his back. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he muttered, rubbing his hands down his face in frustration.
Completely unbothered by the tension in the room, Charlie rifled through a pile of clothes near my dresser. “They were here yesterday. I need them. We’re all going out, by the way, so Matt, you need to go home and get ready. We’re leaving in an hour.”
Matt shot me a look, his jaw tightening as he sat up. “Awesome,” he said dryly, pushing himself off the bed. He grabbed his shoes, muttering under his breath, “Perfect timing, as always.”
“Thanks, Charlie,” I said sarcastically as she left the room, holding up her shorts triumphantly.
“Oh, found them! - What?” she said, raising a brow. “It’s not my fault you two were in the middle of fucking.”
As the door shut behind her, I turned to Matt, who was now running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to calm down. “I’m gonna kill her,” I muttered, crossing my arms.
Matt leaned down, brushing a kiss to my forehead. “Save some of that anger for later,” he said with a wink. “I’ll see you in an hour.” Then, with one last glare toward the door Charlie had just exited, he walked out.
I flopped back onto the bed with a frustrated groan, already planning my revenge on Charlie for being the ultimate cock blocker.
After Matt left, I eventually pushed myself up, determined to focus on getting ready for the day.
First, I headed to the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the room fill with steam. Stepping under the hot water, I felt the tension in my body start to melt away. I washed my hair with my favorite shampoo, the scent of vanilla and coconut filling the small space. After rinsing out the suds, I massaged the conditioner into my ends, leaving it to soak while I lathered up with body wash.
Once I stepped out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a plush towel and padded back to my room. Sitting at my vanity, I carefully went through my skincare routine. I cleansed, toned, and layered on moisturizer before gently dabbing under my eyes with cream. A quick spritz of hydrating mist finished the routine, leaving my skin glowing.
I brushed out my damp hair, deciding to leave it natural for the day. Slightly damp but drying quickly in the warm air. Satisfied, I moved to my closet to pick out an outfit.
After a few minutes of deliberation, I settled on a white flowing crop top with delicate ruffled edges. It tied at the front, leaving just enough skin exposed to feel sexy but still casual. I paired it with light-washed high-waisted loose jean shorts that hit right below my ass cheek, adding a touch of effortless style. For shoes, I opted for my high-top platform Converse, I wanted to look good for Matt.
I stood in front of the mirror for a final once-over. Grabbing my phone and a small crossbody bag, I headed downstairs, ready to see what they decided on doing today.
The doorbell rang, followed by the familiar chatter of voices, signaling the boys were here. I walked to the door and opened it to find Matt, Chris, and Nick standing there, all grinning like they were up to something. Matt’s eyes flicked to me, his eyes trailing my body as he took in my outfit.
“Hello Sweetheart,” he said, his voice low, but there was a warmth there that made my chest flutter.
“Let’s go fuck!,” I replied, whispering it in his ear.
“Cant-” He started but then was abruptly cut off.
Nick clapped his hands together as he looked around. “Alright, Y/N, here’s the deal. We’re filming a car video for the channel first. We are gonna drive around the streets of LA and do a Q&A, you know the drill. Then, we’ll decide what to do for the day and make it a vlog for everyone’s channels. We’ve been slacking on content, all of us.”
I raised an eyebrow. “A car video? Do I get to participate, or am I just sitting in the back awkwardly?”
“You’re in,” Chris said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “You’ll be the wildcard. You always throw us off with your answers.”
I laughed, shrugging him off. “Fine.”
Nick turned to Matt. "Y/N get the front, and me, Chris, and Charlie will cram in the back."
I glanced at Matt, who smirked and shrugged. “Guess that’s settled, then.”
“You okay with that?” Chris asked, already heading toward the door.
“Yeah, fine by me,” I said, grabbing my phone and following them out. Matt gave me a little nudge on the way, his hand brushing against the small of my back.
We piled into Matt’s car, and true to Nick’s decree, I climbed into the front passenger seat while the other three squeezed into the back. Nick was already pulling out his camera to set up on the dashboard.
"Ok bitches," Nick said, angling the lens. “Matt, start driving. Y/N, you’re co-hosting this disaster with me.”
Matt chuckled, turning on the car. “You sure you want that? She might hijack the whole thing.”
"Exactly why she's co-hosting," Nick retorted.
As we pulled out of the driveway, Nick launched into his intro. “What’s up, everyone? We’re back with another car Q&A with questions from no other than you guys! But this time we are driving to a destination you will see in our next vlog, also we’ve got Y/N riding shotgun to keep Matt in check.”
“Not possible,” I joked, leaning back in my seat. “But I’ll do my best.”
“Alright, first fan question and I’ll ask Y/N, who’s more annoying when drunk, Matt or Chris?” Charlie asked, leaning over the seat to get in my face.
“Chris,” I answered without hesitation.
“Hey!” Chris protested.
“Sorry, but you’re like a toddler with unlimited energy,” I teased.
As the car Q&A began to heat up, the questions naturally shifted to some more personal topics. Nick, always the instigator, decided to dive into the juicier ones submitted by fans.
“Alright, this one’s for Charlie and Chris,” Nick announced, leaning forward from the very backseat of the minivan. “What’s your favorite thing about each other?”
Charlie blushed immediately, hiding her face behind her hands. “Why would you pick that one?”
“Because it’s adorable,” Nick replied. “Now, answer it.”
Chris didn’t miss a beat. “Her laugh. Hands down. It’s so fucking contagious and it makes me want to make her laugh all the time.”
“Aww,” everyone chorused, with Nick pretending to wipe a tear.
Charlie peeked up from her hands, still blushing. “Fine. My favorite thing about Chris is how he always knows when I need him. Like, no matter what’s going on, he’s always there, even when I don’t ask.”
The car erupted in more exaggerated "aww"s, with Matt rolling his eyes but smirking at the sweetness.
“Alright, moving on before we all throw up,” Nick teased. “This one’s for Matt and Y/N: What’s the best thing about spending time together?”
Matt’s hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel, but he stayed composed. “She makes everything more fun,” he said simply, glancing at me with a small smile.
I felt my cheeks heat up but managed to reply. “Matt’s... surprisingly thoughtful. Like, he pretends he’s all tough, but he’s got a big heart. He notices little things and makes you feel like you matter.”
The car went silent for a beat before Nick broke it with a loud, fake sniffle. “Look at you two, being all sweet. Love that for you.”
“Next question,” Matt grumbled, though his smirk gave him away.
Nick cleared his throat dramatically. “Okay, okay, serious question: Are you two actually dating, or is this just a fling?”
The air grew a little tense, but I laughed it off. “Who even submitted that? It’s none of their business.”
“True,” Nick agreed. “But for the record, you two act like an old married couple, so…”
Matt chuckled, shaking his head. “No comment.”
Chris leaned forward, chiming in. “Someone asked if Y/N only hangs out with Matt because he’s famous.”
The car fell silent for a moment, and I felt Matt tense beside me. “That’s stupid,” I said sharply. “I’ve known them since highschool… fame has nothing to do with it. Plus Charlie and I are pretty fucking famous ourselves, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, they are pretty fucking famous themselves!,” Matt added, his voice a pitch higher in mockery. 
The atmosphere lightened a little after that, but the questions kept rolling. Nick read another one, his grin widening. “Okay, back to the fun stuff: Charlie and Chris, who’s the better cook?”
The couple immediately started bickering, with Charlie insisting it was her and Chris arguing that his waffles were superior.
We wrapped up the video about thirty minutes later, filming enough content and answering enough questions for both our channels. 
“Oh shit,” Matt huffs. 
I turn my head over to him and hum in question. “Whats wrong?”
“We forgot to film an outro. Let me pull over and I can yell into the camera or something.” he sighs, flicking on his signal to turn into a small plaza parking lot. 
I nod, grabbing the camera from the dashboard and preparing it to film again when an idea hits me. 
“Hey, Matt?” I ask, playing with the settings on the camera. 
“Yeah, sweetheart?” 
“Remember how you used to kiss the camera goodbye at the end of videos?” I ask casually, clicking out the LCD screen and pressing record. 
“Yes?,” he ask confused as he puts the car in park and turns to look at me.
My grin widens as I lift the camera up, placing it on my forehead to face him almost as if it was a gopro. “Feeling nostalgic?” I giggle.
Matt laughs, looking between my lips and the camera before leaning in, one of his hands coming up to cup my cheek as our lips collide in a lighthearted and playful kiss. The both of us laugh into the kiss before Matt pulls back, looking directly into the camera then letting out a high pitched scream that left the lens foggy and humid. 
He brings his free hand up to the camera and presses the off button, gently grabbing it from my hands and putting it on the dashboard again. 
“How was that for nostalgic?” he whispers, face still close to mine. 
I laugh, pushing his forehead with my palm. “I’ve seen better,” 
“Oh really?” he gasps in faux offense. 
“Truly,” I nod sarcastically. 
“Yeah alright, sweetheart. We’ll see if you still think that later tonight.” he smirks, starting the car again and putting it back into drive. 
“Are yall done??” Nick butts in from the backseat but quickly interrupts himself with another thought. “You know what I could really go for right now? Some fucking bowling.”
“Bowling?” Matt asked, raising an eyebrow, pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the main road.
“Yep,” Nick confirmed. “Losers do something embarrassing. Y/N, you in?”
“Oh, I’m definitely in,” I said, grinning. “But you’re all going down.”
“Big talk for someone who barely knows the rules,” Matt teased, pulling back into the driveway.
“...I didn’t even know there were rules. That’s gonna be really embarrassing when you loose to someone who didn’t even know that much.” I shot back, earning a chuckle from him as we parked.
We all piled out of the car, the sun bright and warm as we joked and bickered our way into the bowling alley. I grabbed my camera from my bag, flipping it on to capture the camaraderie. “Alright, everyone, say hi to the vlog!” I said, pointing the lens toward the group.
Nick leaned in, throwing up a peace sign. “What’s up, Y/N and Charlie’s channel? Prepare to witness greatness.”
“You mean prepare to witness you eating my ass?” Chris chimed in, smirking.
Charlie elbowed him, giggling. “Oh, please. You’re all going down. Y/N and I are going to be a power duo.”
“Hey so Charlie , there aren’t any teams in bowling hope this helps.” I deadpan over to her as she looks at me without a single thought behind her eyes.
I turned the camera to Matt, who stood casually, arms crossed and a slight smirk on his face. “Got any words of wisdom for the vlog?” I asked as Matt opened the front door for me.
He leaned closer, his voice low and teasing. “Just make sure to capture my victory in 4K.”
“Oh, I will,” I shot back with a laugh, spinning the camera around to capture my triumphant grin.
We picked out shoes and debated over bowling balls, the smack talk already in full swing. “You know what they say,” Matt teased as he lined up his first shot, “Fuck bitches, get money, and go bowling.”
“Very funny,” I deadpanned, nudging him aside. “The only bitch you're gettin’ is bout to wipe the floor with your big ass cranium so step aside.” 
The game quickly turned competitive. Chris bowled a strike early on, and Charlie cheered so loudly the entire alley turned to look. “That’s my man!” she yelled, giving him an exaggerated high-five.
Nick, on the other hand, couldn’t stop laughing at his own gutter balls. “Maybe I should stick to bed rotting” he muttered after his third miss.
Matt was surprisingly good, earning strikes and spares with ease, but he wasn’t prepared for me. My first few rolls were mediocre at best, but by the halfway point, I’d found my groove. I bowled strike after strike, much to everyone’s shock—and my delight.
“You’ve been hustling us this whole time,” Matt accused, his eyes narrowing playfully.
“Maybe,” I said with a smirk, lining up my next shot. I rolled the ball down the lane and watched as all the pins clattered down. “Boom!” I spun around, throwing my arms up in victory. “What’s that? My balls in Matt’s mouth? Yeah that’s what I thought.”
Charlie laughed, leaning against Chris. “Yeah, clock that. We all know who wears the pants in that…” she pauses, looking between Matt and me multiple times before resuming. “Relationship?...” she cringes at the word.
 “Friendship!” she tries again, but grimices before giving up. “Fuck it. Only god knows what's going on between those whores…”
“Oh! okay!” I sang. “That's strike two! Not in bowling! You’re on thin ice!”
By the final frame, it was clear I was the winner. Matt groaned dramatically, rubbing his temples. “How is this fair? I was robbed.”
“Skill, my dear Matthew,” I said, patting his shoulder as I picked up the camera. “Let’s hear it for the champion!”
Chris clapped slowly, a grin tugging at his lips. “Alright, I’ll admit it—she earned it. Barely.”
“Barely?” I scoffed. “I crushed all of you.”
As we wrapped up and headed for the exit, Matt walked beside me, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you beat me.”
I glanced up at him, smiling. “You’ll live. Maybe next time you’ll step up your game.”
He chuckled, his hand brushing against mine. “We’ll see about that.”
Back in the car, I turned the camera back on, catching everyone’s tired but happy faces. “How does it feel to get your ass wiped by me?” I asked, spinning the camera toward Matt.
“Ha. Ha. Ha.” he looks at me with a straight face. 
Nick groaned from the back seat, leaning his head against the window. "Okay, okay. I lost. What’s my punishment?"
A wicked grin spread across my face as I turned the camera toward him. “Oh, don’t worry, Nick. We’ve got something special for you.”
“Be gentle,” he pleaded, his voice dripping with fake sorrow.
As soon as we got back to the house, we all piled inside, still buzzing from the night. I set the camera up on the kitchen counter, making sure it was angled perfectly to catch whatever ridiculous punishment we came up with.
Charlie clapped her hands together. “Alright, Nick. Since you came in dead last, your punishment is…” She paused for dramatic effect, looking at Chris. “Chris, what do you think?”
Chris smirked, clearly enjoying this a little too much. “I think Nick should have to walk through target in Y/N’s outfits.”
Nick’s face fell when Chris suggested he do his next punishment at Target. “Wait, you’re not serious,” he said, staring at me wide-eyed.
“Oh, I’m dead serious,” He replied, grinning. “You’ve got to wear the outfit I gave you all around Target. Just imagine the looks you'll get!”
Charlie, Me, and Matt were all snickering, clearly on board with the idea.
Nick’s eyes darted from one person to another, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll do it. But if I get kicked out of the store, I’m blaming all of you.”
Matt clapped him on the back, trying to suppress his laughter. “Hey, maybe a man twice your age with a mustache will think you look sexy.”
I grabbed my purse, and with everyone ready to go, we piled into the car. The entire ride to Target was filled with Nick grumbling about how he couldn’t believe he was about to make a fool of himself in public.
Once we arrived, we entered the store, with Nick wearing the bright pink skirt and crop top. His outfit drew stares from everyone, but he strutted confidently, as if he were walking the runway. People whispered and giggled, some even pointing, but Nick refused to back down. He just kept pushing forward, determined to complete the mission.
I pulled out my camera, filming everything. “Okay Rupaul Dragrace” I teased, capturing him on camera as he tried to act casual while pushing a cart through the aisles.
Nick shot me a look, his face flushed from embarrassment, but he held his head high. “You guys are so cruel.”
Charlie leaned into me, laughing so hard she nearly tripped over her own feet. “Bitch, this was your idea.”
We made our way through the aisles, stopping at random items just to make Nick pose awkwardly with them. He had to pick up random products and look like he was contemplating them seriously, which only made everything more ridiculous.
“Nick, can you try on the kid’s shoes? They’d go perfectly with your look,” Matt suggested, barely able to keep a straight face.
“Sure, why not?” Nick replied sarcastically. “It’s not like I’m already embarrassed enough.”
He shuffled over to the kids’ section, trying on the smallest pair of sneakers he could find and somehow managing to make it look like he belonged in them. It was absurd, and it was honestly one of the funniest things I’d ever seen.
I couldn’t stop laughing, holding my stomach as I filmed the whole thing. “You’re killing it, Nick. Keep going.”
We spent a good thirty minutes walking around the store, stopping for Nick to pose by random displays, and by the time we were ready to leave, he was still pretending to be unbothered, though we could all tell he was close to snapping.
“You’ve definitely earned your punishment points,” I said as we made our way to the checkout line, trying to stifle my giggles.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m definitely not losing again,” Nick grumbled, tossing his purchases onto the conveyor belt. “But next time, Y/N, I’m picking your punishment.”
“Deal,” I said, unable to stop laughing at the thought.
As we left the store, Nick walked out of Target like a true champ, still wearing the outfit like it was the most normal thing in the world. And even though he was clearly embarrassed, he managed to make it through the entire ordeal without turning into a total wreck.
“You’re a trooper, Nick,” I said, patting him on the back as we got back into the car. “You survived. You’re officially a legend.”
We pulled up to the triplets' house, the evening air cool and crisp as we got out of the car. Charlie and I exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between us before we turned to the guys. “Alright, you guys did enough today,” Charlie said with a grin. “We’re cooking dinner tonight. Italian, sound good?”
The triplets looked at each other, their eyes lighting up. “You guys are cooking?” Matt asked, raising an eyebrow. “This should be interesting.”
I smiled, nodding. “Yep, we’re taking over the kitchen. You’re all getting Italian tonight.”
The guys exchanged amused looks, clearly impressed but also a little wary of what we had planned. “Well, we’ll let you take the lead,” Nick said, giving a thumbs-up. “But if we’re eating burnt food, you’re on your own.”
With a laugh, Charlie and I headed inside, excited to work our magic in the kitchen while the guys settled in for the evening.
Charlie and I started preparing the Italian dinner. We decided to cook up some pasta, garlic bread, and a big salad. Charlie was chopping vegetables, while I was stirring the sauce on the stove, trying to perfect the flavor.
“Are you sure I’m not doing too much?” I asked, glancing at Charlie as she set the table.
She shook her head, grinning. “Nope. We’re doing this. It’s our turn to spoil them. Besides, they’ve been doing enough for us lately.”
I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me. It felt nice, doing something for them. Once the food was ready, we set the table, and the guys came in, looking more than ready to eat.
Matt’s eyes lit up when he saw the pasta. “You guys seriously went all out. This looks amazing.”
“Don’t thank us just yet,” I said. “You have to eat it first.”
We all dug in, and I could see the satisfaction on everyone’s face as they took their first bites. Matt grabbed my hand across the table. “This is seriously the best thing I’ve eaten all week,” he said, his voice low but sincere.
Charlie was laughing as she reached for more garlic bread. “I told you we were good in the kitchen.”
We ate, joked, and laughed together, the room filled with a sense of ease. It felt like we were finally getting a bit of normalcy back after everything that had happened recently.
After dinner, we all sat around, chatting about everything and nothing. Nick, of course, had to make a joke about being the best chef, even though he had nothing to do with the cooking. It was nice to just be together, no drama, just friends and a good meal.
I felt a sense of peace in that moment, surrounded by laughter and warmth, knowing this was exactly where I wanted to be.
After the dinner, Matt gave me a quick tour of the triplets’ house since I’m the only one who’s never actually been there before. He started with Chris’s room, which was in the basement. It had this cool, cozy vibe—dim lighting, a comfy green couch, and walls lined with vintage posters. On his desk he had a little vanity mirror and small makeup bag with wipes for Charlie. Chris clearly liked his space, as it had everything he needed for unwinding after a long day.
We then headed upstairs, where Matt’s room was located. He gave me a playful grin as we walked down the hall. “This is my space,” he said, opening the door to reveal a room with dark colors, a huge king-size bed, and his desk with the streaming set up. I could tell it was Matt’s private sanctuary.
Next, Matt led me upstairs to Nick’s room, which was next to a loft area. Nick’s room was totally different from Matt’s—bright and energetic. The vibe in here was more playful, a perfect reflection of Nick’s personality. "Nick’s room is where all the tech magic happens," Matt joked, and I couldn’t help but smile at how different each of their rooms was.
Finally, we walked back downstairs into the living room and kitchen which I had gotten myself familiar with while cooking dinner. The living room was large and open, with a huge sectional couch and gaming consoles everywhere. The kitchen had modern appliances and an island with bar stools, where we could hang out whenever we wanted. "This is where we come to chill when we’re not annoying each other," Matt said, and I could tell he meant it.
After dinner and the tour, we all lounged around, enjoying each other’s company. The living room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the soft glow of the TV playing some random late-night show none of us were paying attention to. Charlie and Chris were curled up together on one end of the couch, her head resting on his chest while his arm lazily draped over her shoulders. Nick was passed out in the corner, snoring softly with a blanket half-draped over his legs.
And then there was Matt and me.
We were tangled together on the opposite end of the couch, his arm slung around my waist, pulling me snugly against his chest. My head rested on his shoulder, and I could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His warmth, his scent—it was intoxicating.
The quiet murmur of the TV mixed with the occasional whispered laugh from Chris and Charlie, but my focus was entirely on Matt. He shifted slightly, his breath brushing against my ear as he leaned in closer.
“Are you ready?” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Ready for what?” I murmured back, my heart racing as his fingers lightly trailed down my side.
His lips barely grazed the shell of my ear as he spoke. “To let me take out all that anger I’ve been saving.”
I swallowed hard, heat pooling in my stomach at the weight of his words. My breath hitched when his hand tightened on my waist, pulling me even closer.
“Matt,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.
He tilted his head slightly, just enough for me to catch the wicked smirk on his lips. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Not so sure of yourself now?”
I didn’t answer, my mind flashing back to earlier in the car— and what he said.
Matt shifted again, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “Let’s see if you still think there’s better.”
The challenge in his voice sent a spark through me, and I couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped my lips. His fingers grazed my hip, his touch deliberate but teasing, just enough to make me crave more.
I turned my head slightly to meet his gaze, our faces so close I could feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made my stomach flutter.
“Let’s go,” he murmured, his voice firm but quiet enough that the others wouldn’t hear.
I nodded, barely trusting myself to speak, and he stood up, pulling me with him. Chris and Charlie barely glanced our way, too wrapped up in their own little bubble, and Nick was still blissfully unconscious in the corner.
Matt’s hand slipped to the small of my back as he guided me down the hall, his touch searing through the thin fabric of my shirt. The door to his room clicked shut and locked behind us, and the air between us seemed to crackle with electricity.
He leaned against the door, his smirk returning as his eyes raked over me. “Still think you’ve seen better, sweetheart?”
I swallowed hard, my pulse pounding in my ears. “Maybe,” I said, my voice shaky but laced with challenge. “Why won’t you prove me wrong,”
He chuckled softly, pushing off the door and stepping closer. His smirk deepened as he closed the distance between us, his movements deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. My breath hitched as he stopped just inches away, his hands slipping into his pockets, casual but exuding that infuriating confidence.
“You’re sure you ready for that?” he asked, his voice low and rough, each word sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes never left mine, daring me to break first.
I tilted my chin up, trying to hold onto whatever shred of composure I had left. “It’s nothing I haven’t had before,” I said nonchalantly, shrugging.
Matt’s gaze darkened, his smirk softening into something more dangerous, more intoxicating. “I’m not the same guy I was four years ago, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hand lifting to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch lingered, fingers grazing my jaw before trailing down my neck.
“Good. His stroke game was weak. Maybe you’ll finally be able to make me cum now.” I shot back, my words bolder than I felt.
Matt’s eyes widened slightly at my boldness, but the shock melted into a dark, amused grin that made my knees feel like jelly. His hand stilled on my neck, his thumb tracing a deliberate, slow circle against my skin.
“That’s funny,” he said, his voice dropping to a rough, taunting whisper. “Because I remember you begging me to keep going. Said you couldn’t take any more, but there you were, falling apart under me anyway. Oh and how could I forget that giant mess you made all over our sheets that one time. Think I could make you do that again?”
My breath hitched, his words hitting like a physical blow to my pride and composure. He tilted his head, leaning closer, the smirk on his lips pure sin. “Sound familiar, sweetheart?”
I swallowed hard, refusing to back down, though my cheeks were burning. “Guess it’s easy to forget when it wasn’t exactly memorable.”
His grin widened, his other hand sliding to my waist and pulling me impossibly closer. “Oh, we’ll see about that,” he murmured, his lips grazing the corner of my mouth. “You’ve got a lot of smart things to say for someone who’s about to eat her words.”
I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through me, his proximity, his touch, and that damn voice of his completely unraveling me. “Big talk for someone who might still disappoint,” I shot back, though my voice wasn’t nearly as steady as I wanted it to be.
He chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating against my chest. “You want me to prove you wrong?” he asked, his hand slipping lower, resting just on the curve of my hip. “Because once we start, sweetheart, I’m not stopping until I’ve made you forget every other man you’ve ever been with.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words died on my lips as his mouth brushed against mine—not a kiss, but a tease, a reminder of how close he was, how much control he had over the moment. His lips ghosted over mine again, his breath hot against my skin. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his tone daring me.
I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Instead, I leaned in, closing the sliver of space between us and brushing my lips against his. It was all the confirmation he needed.
His grip on me tightened as he deepened the kiss, his lips firm but controlled, his movements deliberate and maddening. My fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, as if I could erase every inch of space between us.
When he pulled back just slightly, his lips still brushing against mine, he whispered, “That’s my girl.”
Without another word, he stepped back, his hand slipping into mine as he led me toward the bed. The tension was electric, the air between us thick with anticipation.
“Still think I’ve got something to prove?” he asked, his voice a soft, teasing growl as he 
He stopped just short of the edge, turning to face me, his hands sliding to my waist as he pulled me flush against him.
“Last chance,” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous rasp. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”
I looked up at him, my breath hitching as his eyes bore into mine, dark and intense. “I’m not stopping you,” I whispered, my voice trembling but resolute.
His lips twitched into that maddening smirk before he leaned down, capturing my mouth in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was demanding, all-consuming, his hands gripping my hips as he pulled me even closer. I gasped against his lips, and he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my knees buckle.
Matt’s hands roamed, exploring with purpose. One hand slid up my back, tangling in my hair, while the other gripped my waist, keeping me grounded as he kissed me like he was trying to claim every piece of me. His teeth grazed my bottom lip, and I couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped me.
“Already making noises for me,” he murmured against my lips, his tone laced with smug satisfaction. “Guess I don’t have much to prove, after all.”
“Shut up,” I breathed, tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel more. He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, before pulling back just enough to tug his shirt over his head.
My eyes traveled over him, taking in the hard planes of his inked chest, the lines that led lower, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. He caught me looking and raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”
I rolled my eyes, though my cheeks burned. “I’ve seen better,” I teased, throwing his own words back at him.
His grin turned predatory. “You’re gonna regret saying that,” he murmured, his voice dripping with promise. He moved forward, backing me up until my knees hit the edge of the bed. His hands slid to my thighs, guiding me down as he followed, his weight settling over me in a way that sent a thrill through my entire body.
His lips found mine again, the kiss deeper, hungrier this time. His hands explored, trailing over my sides, my hips, the curve of my waist. Every touch felt deliberate, calculated, like he was mapping me out, re-learning every inch of me.
I arched against him as his lips left mine, trailing down my jaw to the sensitive spot just below my ear. He lingered there, his teeth grazing my skin before his tongue soothed the bite. “Still think you’ve seen better?” he murmured, his voice rough against my skin.
“Matt,” I whispered, my voice shaky, pleading.
His lips curved into a smirk against my neck. “That’s what I thought.”
He didn’t rush, didn’t let me rush him. Every movement was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every moment, every reaction he pulled from me. His hands slid beneath my shirt, his fingers brushing against my bare skin, and I shivered under his touch.
“Let me hear you,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over my collarbone as his hands explored higher.
I couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped me, and he smiled against my skin, clearly satisfied. “Good girl.”
Matt’s hands slid higher under my shirt. He pulled back just enough to tug the fabric over my head, his eyes raking over me like I was the only thing that existed in the room.
“You’re so hot,” he murmured, his voice thick, almost reverent, as his fingers traced over my collarbone, down the curve of my waist, and settled on my hips. “Even better than I remembered.”
I couldn’t find words, couldn’t think straight with the way he was looking at me—like he was devouring me with his eyes, rememorizing every inch. He leaned down, his lips finding mine again, and the kiss was deeper, hungrier. His hands moved, gripping my hips again firmly as his weight pressed me into the mattress, grounding me and sending sparks shooting through my entire body.
“Matt,” I gasped against his lips, my voice trembling, and that was all the encouragement he needed.
His lips left mine, trailing a hot, deliberate path down my jaw to my neck, where he lingered, his teeth grazing over sensitive skin. I whimpered as he bit down gently, soothing the mark with his tongue before continuing lower. His lips danced over my collarbone, down to the curve of my chest, and I arched beneath him, my hands tangling in his hair as he worked his way down.
“Still think there’s better out there?” he asked, his voice low and rough, his breath hot against my skin.
I opened my mouth to respond, but all that came out was a soft moan as his hands gripped my waist, his thumbs pressing into the soft curve of my hips. His lips followed the path his hands had mapped, his touch firm but teasing, always just shy of where I wanted him most.
“Answer me, sweetheart,” he said, his tone dripping with smugness as he looked up at me, his smirk sending my heart into overdrive. “Because I don’t think you’ve got it in you to lie to me right now.”
“You’re infuriating,” I managed, my voice shaky but defiant.
“And yet,” he murmured, his hands sliding lower, his fingers brushing against the waistband of my shorts, “you can’t seem to get enough of me.”
“Prove it,” I challenged, though the trembling in my voice betrayed me.
Matt chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that sent heat pooling in my stomach. “Oh, I will,” he promised, his hands slipping beneath the fabric and pulling it down with agonizing slowness.
The cool air on my skin was a sharp contrast to his touch, and I shivered, my breath hitching as he leaned down again, his lips finding a new path across my hips. Every kiss, every touch was calculated, deliberate, like he was unraveling me piece by piece.
“You’re not ready for me,” he murmured against my skin, his voice low and teasing. “But don’t worry, sweetheart—I’ll take my time. You’ll forget everything else but me.”
Before he could even finish his sentence, his fingertips were on the buttons of my jean shorts, undoing them as if he had all the time in the world. His slender fingers unhooked them one at a time, his dead eyes looking up at me the entire time. 
“Lets get these off you, yeah?” he hums to himself as I raise my hips off the mattress slightly but enough for him to grab the hem of them and pull them down to my ankles— leaving me in nothing but my bra and underwear. 
As soon as my shorts hit the ground , his knees are quick to follow. He drops to the floor of the bed, grabbing my thighs with his hands and pulling me roughly to the edge.
I let out a quiet gasp of surprise as my body flew to the edge and i prop myself up on my elbows to look down at him. 
He looks up at me then drops his mouth to leg, his dead eyes heavy and half lidded. “Getting dejavu?” he says roughly against my inner thigh, placing soft kisses closer and closer to where I needed him.
I didn’t respond, I let my body do the talking when goosebumps rise across my thighs as his kisses travel closer and closer to my aching core. 
As soon as it looked like he was finally going to touch me, kiss me, do anything— he’d just trail his mouth back up towards my ankles that were resting over his shoulders.
“You’re such a fuckin’ tease, Matthew,” I whimper beneath him, at this point deperate for any sort of touch he was willing to give me.
“Let me make you feel good, baby” he hushes against my thigh, once more trailing his lips down to my clothed and untouched core.
Just as I was about to really start whining, i feel his fingers hook onto the waistband of my underwear, teasingly running his fingers acoss my lower abdomen. 
My body twitches at the slight touches, giving way to truly just how desperately and sickly I needed him. 
Matt licks his lips and runs his fingers across my skin one more time before finally reaching underneath and dragging them down my legs. It peeled off my core with a large string of arousal connecting my untouched cunt to my soaked panties.
“God,” Matt murmers under his breath, his gaze intense. I could feel him picking me apart with his eyes and it was causing a entire fire to ignite through my body. 
Before I could say anything, Matt removes a hand from my thigh and takes his pointer finger, spreading my folds. He groans outloud as he sees that I’m dripping in anticipation and clenching around air. 
I knew Matt wanted to eat me out, I mean, cmon. His nick name wasn’t “Matt the munch” for nothing. What I wasn’t expecting was for him to stand up, hook his fingers under your thighs again and flip you.
Within seconds your roles were reversed and Matt was sitting against the bed, head leaning back on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. And I was hovering on top of him, legs spread in a straddle, leaking cunt directly over his beautiful face. 
His hands come up and grab my hips, pushing me down with little to not force but enough to let me know what he wanted. 
I look down at him with hesitation and when our eyes meet, I nearly explode. His pupils were dilated so intently that there were almost no blue left. He licked his lips, eyes darting from my face to my core— waiting for my approval. 
And who am I to say no? 
The second Matt sensed me lowering onto his mouth, his hands tightened around my hips and pushed me onto his tongue with such force I had to grip the sheet to keep my balance. 
His tongue immediately found my clit and even after four years he remembered the exact rhythm that had me shaking. 
“Fuck Matt—” I moan, grabbing his hair and tugging lightly. 
The second his tongue left my clit and dove deep into me, I knew I was a goner and that I was not going to last long at all. 
It was almost embarrassing how quickly my body remembers everything about him— the curve of his nose that hit my clit just the right way every time i rocked my hips, the light scruff on his jaw that scratched against my thighs every time he’d move his mouth, the deep groans he’d let out that would vibrate through my body— everything. 
But the part that got me the most was the way he seemed to enjoy it just as much if not more than I did. 
I feel my juices leak down his chin, his tongue lapping up as much as he could, sucking on my folds, flicking my clit, and everything in between. 
He was eating me out not just like it was his last meal— no. he was eating me out as if he had never eaten anything before in his life. As if he had spent his life in purgatory and I was his first taste of freedom. 
As if it couldn’t get any better, his hands leave the deathlock they previously had on my thighs and when I opened my eyes to look down to see what he was doing, I nearly came there and then. 
Matt was so turned on from eating me out that he was fumbling with the belt buckle of his own pants, tugging them down to free his erection as if his life depended on it. 
At the sight of his strained cock spring out of his boxers, I couldn’t help but grind down extra hard on his mouth and tipping my head back, moaning out loud, not caring about how loud I am or that everyone was only a few hundred feet away in the room over. 
When I open my eyes again and look down, Matt had one fist around his cock, pumping up and down with immense speed. Before I had time to question where his other hand went, my questions were answered when I felt his pointer and middle finger sneak up next to his chin and prod against my entrance. 
My back arched as he slowly pushes one in and I pull on his hair so hard I feel his moan beneath me when he slips the second one in. 
“Fuck” I cry, begging to rock my hips against his hand, needing to feel something. “Please, Matt.”
Matt simply hums underneath me, still continuing to jerk himself off and eat me out. He slowly brings his fingers out and then pushes them back in, this time faster. 
“Oh fuck, keep going, please,” I beg, no longer caring enough about my pride. 
His fingers continue to pump in and out of me faster and faster. Even after four years he can tell when I was close based on how tightly I clamp down around him. 
“Fuck, right there!” I cry out, rocking harder and faster against his mouth and fingers, desperately chasing my high. 
He scissors his fingers inside me and my legs threaten to close. The way he applies just the right amount of pressure in just the right spot to makes my thighs begin to shake as I rapidly approach my orgasm.
I couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything but hold onto him, my body trembling as his hands and tongue drove me closer to the edge of madness. He was in control, and he knew it, his every movement a reminder of just how much power he held over me.
“Matt,” I gasped, his name tumbling from my lips in a broken whisper, my fingers clutching desperately at his hair. My pulse thundered in my ears, the air thick and electric, every sense overwhelmed by him—his scent, his heat, the deep, dark tone of his voice as he murmured something I couldn’t even process.
He smirked against my skin, clearly satisfied by the way my body reacted to him, how every shiver, every soft sound I made, told him exactly what he needed to know. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, a command wrapped in velvet. “Let go for me.”
I was helpless against him, my body no longer mine as he pushed me further, higher, until I was teetering on the edge of something I couldn’t quite name. And then, with one final, deliberate move—his hand tightening, his lips pressing just right—it hit me like a tidal wave.
My entire body tensed, my breath catching in my throat as pleasure washed over me, sharp and overwhelming, crashing through me in waves that left me trembling, gasping for air. My fingers dug into his skin, my back arching as I gave in completely, every nerve alight, every thought replaced by the intensity of the moment.
I cry out, surly aleting not just the rest of the house but the entire fucking neighborhood at this point. “I’m cu— fuck — i’m cumin’, Matt”
“Thats it,” he murmured, his tone whiney and uneven and that's when I felt it— the way his body tensed under mine, his hands gripping my hips twice as tightly. I could feel his control slipping.
“Jesus, fuck ” he groaned against my core, his voice low and raw, like the sound was ripped from his chest. His mouth fell slack, his finger movements stuttering slightly as he buried his face deeper into my pussy.
The realization hit me as I felt the tremor run through him, his body shuddering against mine, his breath hot and uneven against me. He hadn’t even needed anything else—just me, just this. The way he’d completely unraveled me had been enough to push him over the edge too.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. 
I was still trying to catch my breath, my body boneless on top of his face, but the warmth of his reaction sent a thrill through me. “Matt,” I murmured, my voice shaky but teasing. “Did you just—”
He slowly removed his hand from inside me, and brought it to his cock, jerking himself through the last bits of his orgasm with my cum coating his fingers. “You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice rough but full of that maddening confidence.
I laughed weakly, leaning forward and resting my forehead against the mattress. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Oh, it is,” he murmured. “Trust me.”
I collapsed on the bed in front of him, finally giving him space to breathe. He chuckled softly, standing up and climbing up on the bed with me, his arms wrapping around me as if to hold me steady.
Matt groaned softly, still holding me close as the aftermath of the moment settled between us. His fingers lazily traced circles on my back, his breathing finally slowing to match mine. 
“I hate to ruin this,” I murmured, my voice still slightly breathless, “but we should probably clean up.”
Matt chuckled, the sound low and rich as he kissed my forehead. “Yeah, we probably should. But I don’t know if I’m ready to let you go yet.”
I rolled my eyes, though a small smile tugged at my lips. “C’mon, Matt. You can hold me after we’re not sticking to each other.”
He groaned dramatically, finally sitting up and pulling me with him. “Fine. But only because I like you,” he teased, smirking as he picked up his shirt from the ground and offered it to me.
I slipped it on, the fabric hanging loose and smelling like him, and I couldn’t help but smile. “You’re just full of chivalry tonight.”
He raised an eyebrow as he grabbed a towel, tossing one to me with a playful smirk. “Don’t get used to it.”
We cleaned up quickly, despite neither of us really wanting to leave. Once we were both somewhat presentable, Matt ruffled his hair and grinned at me. “Ready to face the peanut gallery?”
“Not really,” I muttered, biting my lip. “But let’s get it over with.”
He laughed, slinging an arm around my shoulder as we walked back out to the living room. The scene was exactly as we’d left it—Nick still passed out in the corner, Chris lounging on the couch, and Charlie perched beside him, scrolling through her phone.
Except this time, Charlie’s head snapped up the moment she saw us, a wide, wicked grin spreading across her face. “Well, well, well,” she said, setting her phone down and crossing her arms. “Look who decided to join us.”
“Don’t start,” Matt warned, though the corners of his lips twitched.
Charlie ignored him, her gaze locking onto me. “Y/N, babe. Sweetheart. You okay? You were so loud, I was starting to think we’d need to send Chris in with a medic.”
My face went hot instantly, and I shoved Matt’s arm off my shoulder, glaring at her. “Charlie!”
“What?” she said, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying. Some of us were trying to watch TV, and all we could hear was—oh, Matt! Oh, my God! Right there!”
Chris burst out laughing, throwing an arm over her shoulder. “She’s not wrong.”
Matt smirked, clearly unbothered as he dropped onto the couch next to Nick. “Glad I could provide some entertainment.”
Charlie grinned, leaning forward and pointing at me. “And you, miss thing, need to hydrate after all that screaming. Go grab some water before you pass out.”
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” Charlie said with a laugh, tossing me a water bottle. “You love me. And honestly? You’re welcome.”
“For what?” I muttered, sitting down and cracking open the bottle.
“For being the best wingwoman ever,” she said with a wink. “You’re welcome, Matt.”
Matt raised his water bottle in a mock toast. “Appreciate it, Charlie.”
Chris groaned, leaning back. “I’ve gotta start charging for putting up with all this. I swear.”
Charlie grinned, resting her head on his shoulder. “You love us.”
Chris sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Unfortunately.”
I sipped my water, my embarrassment fading as the playful energy filled the room. Maybe being called out wasn’t so bad—especially when I was surrounded by the people I loved most.
tag-
@tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @sturnsvelocity @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @christophersstar @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend
74 notes · View notes
snoopychris · 16 hours ago
Text
dilf!chris is struggling and needs younger!readers help
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
chris sighed as his four year old rejected his food again. he felt like he had made every possible meal by now. eggs, pancakes, waffles, he even went out of his way to call his mom for a french toast recipe. “owen, buddy. hey i need you to eat.” he frowns, ruffling the kids hair. “i’ve made you everything by now! i can’t make you much more… we don’t have much more. i’m gonna be eatin all this food for multiple meals.” he whispers. he knew that owen didn’t understand much, but he still tried. owen huffed and crossed his arms, shaking his head.
“cocoa puffs!” he whines, pouting his big brown eyes at his father. owen, otherwise a spitting image of chris, had his mothers eyes. it was the only feature he seemed to have of hers. chris sighs again as he nods in defeat, grabbing the cereal box from the top of the fridge. he serves a small portion in an equally small bowl for the boy, but groans when he’s opens the fridge and discovers he’s out of milk. that damn french toast. he glances outside to determine if it was worth going out with a toddler. when he sees the snow falling, he decides against it.
“sorry bud. guess you’ll have to eat it dry.” he mumbles, giving the boy an apologetic kiss on the head. owen frowns at the sight, pushing the cereal away too. chris’ frown grows and if anyone were to see the two boys pouting at that moment they’d know they were related. “owen.” he speaks sternly, his patience suddenly flying out the window into the storm. owen’s little lip trembles at his dad’s tone. chris never yells. he’s never mean. he swore to be everything his dad wasn’t. tears form in the poor boys eyes. he’s about to break down. chris tries his best to prevent the situation by pulling him into his arms, rubbing the back of his head. “hey… it’s okay. we’ll go buy some milk later and you can have that for lunch yeah?” he mumbles, running fingers through the boys hair. when owen begins to reply, he’s cut off by a knock on their door.
owen hops off his chair and begins running towards the door, his little feet going slower than he hopes. “mommy! daddy mommy’s here!” he yells. chris only frowns cause he knows that no, owen’s mom definitely isn’t there. as much as he wishes that she was on the other side, he knew that there was no way. he catches up to the boy and moves him aside gently.
“no bud it’s not mommy. move over so i can open the door yeah?” chris whispers, slowly opening the door. he’s shocked when you’re on the other side, a big tupperwear in your hands. “hey, kid. what are you doin here? it’s storming out there, don’t tell me you came all the way over here to return an old container of mine? unless you’re just using it as an excuse for something else which… just isn’t the best time right now.” he asks, moving aside to let you in. you shake your head as you walk in, pushing your hood off your head.
“no i um… actually made like… way too much chicken noodle soup last night. my dad told me to bring some over.” you smile, placing it on the table. you kneel down to be eye level with owen, noticing his messy hair. “y’just wake up or something? why’s that hair a mess?” you joke, glancing up towards chris. you smile at him, his hair messy just like his toddlers. owen giggles at your words, tumbling towards the container on the counter.
“daddy, soup?” he whispers, batting his eyes at his father. chris chuckles and nods, taking the container to the kitchen and serving the young boy some. a genuine smile runs across chris’ face when owen begins happily eating, enjoying every bite. chris sends you a look. you can’t tell what it’s for at first, but you understand when chris speaks.
“thank you… he hasn’t wanted to eat anything yet.” he whispers, looking over all the other food on his kitchen counter. “you hungry?” his smile grows when you nod and begin to dig into some of the food sitting out.
Tumblr media
dividers by @issysh3ll !!
a/n: dilf!chris i adore you
taglist(reply or message to be added!): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @chrisscoraline @forgottxen @blahbel668 @ivyyyyyysposts @h0e4fictionalme-n @riasturns @sofieeeeex @littlebookworm803 @allylovescody @ribread03 @mattg1rl @cheesecakedolll @chrislova @ikyoudreamofme @ayesha-eroticaa @ivysturnss @slutformatt17
108 notes · View notes
aishangotome · 1 day ago
Text
Luke & Gilbert's Story of Reminiscence [The Day We Became a Fake Family] - Part 4
Part 3
Tumblr media
Gilbert: A wise eldest brother like you understands what the most appropriate choice is in this situation, right...?
At the table, conspicuous for its mountain of plates, tension arose between Jin, who sat next to Luke, and Gilbert, who sat opposite them with a meaningful smile.
Seeing this, Luke let out a languid sigh as if to dispel the heavy atmosphere.
Luke: Jin, I'm fine. I'm not being bullied. Though he is harassing me.
Gilbert: When did I harass you?
Luke: Don't play dumb.
Jin: ...............
Luke: But hey, thanks for worrying about me.
Jin, who had been looking alternately between his youngest brother and the calamity, eventually shrugged with a wry smile.
Jin: You're quite something, going toe-to-toe with Prince Gilbert like that.
Luke: Right?
Jin: Come to my place when we get back to the castle. I have to reward you for fulfilling such a big role.
Jin: Well then, I'll be taking my leave for now. I'll pay for this.
Gilbert: Oh? You're treating us?
Jin: Surely, Prince Gilbert, you understand what I'm trying to say.
Gilbert: Hehe, of course.
Gilbert: I won't do anything bad to your precious little brother. It's a holiday today, after all.
Jin: That's reassuring.
Jin stood up, patted Luke's head, and left.
Gilbert: He's a good older brother, isn't he?
Luke: ...Jin is.
Gilbert: Hey, Luke.
Suddenly, he pointed at the window, and Luke turned his head.
Luke: What? There's nothing there.
Gilbert: There is. Look, it's reflected in the window.
Gilbert: The face that says you're happy to see your brother.
Luke: ...!
Because it was nearing nighttime, the face reflected in the window was clear.
The relaxed expression on his face hardened as if remembering something.
Gilbert: No matter how much you deny it, you like this country now.
Luke: That's not...!
He swallowed his words as Gilbert placed his index finger in front of his lips.
Contrary to the oppressive atmosphere, his refreshing smile was gentle.
Gilbert: "Liking a country" is synonymous with "liking its people." Because a country is made up of its people.
Luke: ...............
Gilbert: This is troubling. Your target of revenge might be that overprotective brother of yours.
Luke: You...
Gilbert: Yes, that's right.
Gilbert: Hesitate, worry, struggle, and when you finally break free, swing your sword.
Unfazed by the anger in Luke's face, Gilbert once again cut the cake and brought it to his mouth.
It was the last bite.
Gilbert: But you mustn't ignore your own voice when that happens. You have to listen carefully to what your heart is screaming.
Luke: ...Was this whole "sightseeing" thing just to tell me that?
Gilbert: ............
Luke: Hey... have you ever hated someone from the bottom of your heart?
Gilbert: Of course, I have. I'm the same as you, after all.
Luke: The same?
Gilbert: My family was killed.
Perhaps it was an unexpected answer, as his verdant eyes widened.
Luke: ...I was going to tell you not to butt in if you've never hated anyone.
Gilbert: That's a shame.
Luke: Have you ever taken revenge?
Gilbert: I have. I killed them.
Gilbert: But I didn't feel anything.
Gilbert: Ah, so this is it... that was the end of it.
Luke: Weren't you... happy?
Gilbert: Not really. Because even if I kill that person, the dead don't come back to life.
Gilbert: Revenge, you see, is meaningless like that.
Luke: ................
Gilbert: That's why you worry so much, Luke.
Gilbert: It's fine to desperately try not to let the hatred within you disappear, but...
Gilbert: Don't lose the things you've come to like.
Luke: ...Mind your own business.
Gilbert: Ahaha, that's true. But I have a responsibility as a father, don't I?
Luke: You don't.
Gilbert: Luke, why do you think I didn't send you, a war orphan, to an institution?
Luke: ...I've never thought about it, but maybe because I was useful to you?
Gilbert: If that was the only reason, I might have sent you to an institution.
Luke: Then why?
Gilbert: Because you were just like me when I was a child.
Gilbert: If I had left you alone, you would have surely become like me.
Gilbert: A "calamity of the world" who can't kill enough, even after killing and killing and killing.
Luke: .............
Gilbert: My educational policy is only one thing.
Gilbert: Don't become the kind of person who can kill with a smile.
The man, who was once clad in blood and gunpowder, always smiling refreshingly, stood up quietly.
Gilbert: Hehe, thank you for the meal.
As Gilbert briskly headed for the exit, Luke cast his eyes down.
*flashback*
Luke: What's with that smug look?
Gilbert: I'm just glad.
Luke: About what?
Gilbert: Because you can still go back to being human.
Gilbert: As long as there are things you can like, it's proof that you can turn back, no matter how clouded your eyes become.
Luke: ...What do you mean?
Gilbert: Hehe, you don't need to understand.
Gilbert: Just keep making lots of "likes" at this rate, okay?
*flashback over*
Luke: ––...Are you already beyond saving?
Gilbert: Hm?
Luke shook his head at Gilbert, who had turned around, and stood up from his seat.
Luke: Come to think of it, I remembered there's a rose viewing spot nearby.
Gilbert: Oh? Will you show me?
Luke: ...Are you interested?
Gilbert: Of course.
Luke: Can't be helped then.
Luke scratched his head in annoyance and walked ahead of Gilbert.
Luke: I'll take you there.
Luke: You can probably learn to like it, can't you?
.
.
.
FIN
If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to leave me a tip or buy me a coffee through the "Leave a Tip" button on my navigation bar!
70 notes · View notes
bradshawsvinyl · 3 days ago
Text
How Frank Castle and Girly!Reader Met
girly!reader masterlist here.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
You were seated at a corner table in your favorite neighborhood cafe, sipping a latte from a pink cup with swirls of delicate foam art, your pastel journal open as you sketched designs for your boutique’s upcoming summer collection. The soft patter of the raindrops outside created a cozy ambiance, making it the perfect backdrop to focus on your work.
Your world is all about soft colors, florals and elegance—very different from the dark, handsome, rugged man who walked in, scanning the room with sharp and calculating eyes.
Frank Castle wasn’t there for coffee. He was tailing someone as part of an ongoing mission, but the aroma of fresh pastries and coffee drew him into the small cafe. When he walked in, his eyes immediately landed on you. Your delicate nature made you stand out in his seemingly dark world.
Approaching the counter, Frank ordered a coffee. While reaching in his pocket to pay, the barista informed him that they didn’t accept cash. He instinctively turned to leave not wanting to waste any more time.
“Wait,” a soft voice called out, immediately catching his attention. From the corner of his eye, he saw you stand up with a polite smile on your face.
“I’ve got it,” you said while pulling out your card. As you paid, you glanced at him with a warmth that felt foreign. “Consider it a little kindness on this rainy day,” you added gently.
“Thank you,” he replied politely while taking the cup of coffee from the barista and walking out of the cafe.
Tumblr media
After that first encounter, Frank would occasionally stop by the cafe, though he never admitted he was there to see you. He’d sit at a table near yours, sipping on black coffee and observing the world while you scribbled away in your journal.
On one particularly slow afternoon, you decided to strike up a conversation. You told him about your boutique and your passion for designing clothes that made people feel comfortable in their skin. You noticed he didn’t seem to talk much, but he always listened.
Frank wasn’t used to softness but something about your optimism and passion struck a chord with him. You chose to face the world's horrors with kindness—a stark contrast to how he operated.
Tumblr media
One evening, as the cafe was closing, you found yourself locking up your clothing boutique nearby. The streets were quiet and plagued with an eerie silence. As you turned to leave, you noticed a group of men lingering in the shadows, their gaze fixed on you.
Your heart raced as they approached, their intentions unclear. Before you could react, you heard a familiar voice echo through the air.
“She’s with me.” Frank said, emerging from the darkness. The men hesitated, glancing at each other nervously before retreating without a word. You stood frozen, your breath hitching as Frank turned to you.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice steady and laced with concern.
You nodded. “I didn’t know you were nearby,” you said timidly.
“I like to keep an eye on things,” he replied, his gaze softening.
That night, he walked you home, the silence between you comfortable. As you reached your door, you turned to him. “Thank you, Frank,” you said near tears. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had been alone.”
He nodded, his eyes lingering on yours. “Just stay safe,” he said, disappearing into the darkness of the night.
From that day on, Frank’s presence in your life became a constant. To Frank, you were a reminder of the love and humanity he thought he’d lost. To you, Frank became a steady source of love and strength you hadn’t realized you needed.
Tumblr media
a/n:AHHH THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE! pls send requests for this universe i love frank so much. thanks for reading!
65 notes · View notes
wisteriagoesvroom · 2 days ago
Text
a couple of people have asked for a carlos POV of in theory and actually. thinking about it. it's pretty funny. imagine being carlos, carlos who gets everything in his life he's ever wanted carlos, carlos who feels he has nothing further to prove to anyone carlos (this is a lie btw), carlos who gets saddled with OSCAR, who barely tolerates him, as an executive assistant.
oscar who shows few emotions. doesn't give a f about seniority. thinks carlos is incredibly arrogant (he's not wrong here but, like recognises like.) oscar who knows carlos can't even do his own expenses without having an emotional support espresso or spending half an hour whining to oscar even though he did it himself years before oscar even joined, etc etc.
and carlos has to. endure it. while oscar blatantly ignores his charm offensive and his attempts at being jovial and his bad bilingual puns and carlos, because everyone usually loves carlos, and he-- he just. he cannot for the life of him figure out why he's also so compelled by this australian dude. doesn't know what to do with himself. just keeps interactions to a transactional minimum and puts up a front like he is soooo curt and uncaring about everything but. the warmth seeps through anyway, a vine that's destined to grow despite his attempts not to let it.
so what, if carlos lies awake in bed with racing thoughts too late at night thinking of revenues and EBITDA and platinum tiers and air miles. so what, if this sometimes bleeds into thoughts regarding his work-life balance or lack thereof, and therefore, oscar's stupid little hair swoop, his frown. his insane excel sheet formulas that even carlos, MBA graduate, takes a second to understand. oscar and his indifference and his scary efficiency and the way he talks a bit too fast when he's tipsy and his ice cold hands.
(at the christmas party with yuki. carlos pretends not to listen but hears every word. why would oscar tell yuki all that, and not him, when he’s tried to ask about oscar's interests before? anyway.)
and then. the christmas gifts happen and carlos thinks he's crossed a line. was the terrarium too far, he wonders. normally people love it when carlos is thoughtful like that. his exes even said so. but no! oscar takes the terrarium, the one carlos made a specific detour for on an airline that he couldn't even get miles on!
and oscar just. stares, and stares at the terrarium. then he gives carlos this...look. and it gets embarrassingly intimate and carlos "really does have to go take his call" even though the client did say it is fine to switch to email because, christmas. yeah. and then he's thinking about it the whole way back to madrid too.
then oscar QUITS on CHRISTMAS DAY (rude) for no explainable reason and carlos is like oh my god is it really ME. how can anybody not like ME ? reddit, AITA???
so carlos mulls on it. carlos wants to atone. just maybe. set things straight. let oscar know that. actually. all feelings aside, he was really an excellent EA and carlos wishes him the best with everything. he maybe sends a text to thank him with those very words. but christmas eve comes and goes, and so does christmas day, and there's no reply at all from oscar. what the hell, carlos thinks. no i can't have him leave and there's so much in my email that i – i didn't even say. he just. needs to let oscar know that he appreciated it.
(he doesn't know what "it" is per se. just that. he feels strongly. so he needs to do something about that.)
soooooo then carlos, who values for family more than anything in the world, spends christmas day just only half paying attention to things going on and thinking jesus, what did i do. and his sisters are like, hermano, please just. get it together and sort this out if you care so much. we'll be fine with mamá and papá and piñón okay there's roast ham for days. and his ma is like: "if you are visiting someone at least pack some dessert. where are your manners". and carlos is like "what". and his mum is like: "did i not teach you anything at all. are you or are you not a sainz". so carlos just takes his tiramisu and his sister's teasing and. he goes. might even try to pull a favour from a client to use a private jet and get there in time.
he flies back to the city in a fit of possible stupidity to try and clarify... his feelings for oscar his professional record and integrity.
and then. oscar is. actually HAPPY he is there.
(carlos knows he's happy, not because oscar's face changes. but because oscar puts his actual plant shears down in order to talk to him. which in oscar-world is a very big deal really. before, oscar always used to look like he wanted to stab carlos with a pen when carlos spoke to him. and if carlos were truly honest with himself, and hindsight being 50/50, well– he'd say that actually, the times oscar looked like he wanted to stab him were actually some of the moments he felt most alive.)
and the rest is... well.
you know how it ends.
65 notes · View notes
missarchive · 7 hours ago
Note
ok ok ok!! what about spencer getting head from reader for the first time, and it's her first time doing it, so she's nervous and he teaches her and he has to try sooo hard not to cum immediately because he is just GONE for the innocence with which she does it/tries things out 🤭 you choose what season spence!!
Decided to do one more for tonight!! (I’m feeling generous)
thank you for the request!! im always writing munch!spencer but it's nice to write things the other way round for once
cw; +18 minors dni, inexperienced!reader, tiny bit of dom!spencer if you squint, oral (m. receiving), cum swallowing
When you first kneel before him, his breath catches in his throat, and he’s certain he might lose himself right then and there. The sight of you—so eager, so nervous—renders him utterly helpless. Your hands reach for his belt with a mixture of determination and trepidation, your cheeks flushed a rosy hue that makes you look impossibly innocent yet utterly intoxicating. His jaw slackens as he watches you, his heart pounding against his ribs like a war drum.
Your wide eyes flicker up to meet his, glinting with excitement and a touch of uncertainty. He’s been dreaming of this moment for what feels like forever, and now that it’s unfolding, every muscle in his body tenses, locked in an unbearable anticipation.
Your fingers fumble with his belt, the clumsy motions endearing rather than frustrating. He doesn’t mind the delay; in fact, it only heightens his awareness of you—of how genuine, how completely you this moment is. He knows this is your first time. Not just with him, but ever. You’d told him, shyly, how you’d researched, how you’d prepared for this, even asking friends for advice. Still, the vulnerability of trying it now, with him, makes his chest tighten.
His hands find their way to your hair, almost of their own volition. The silky strands slip through his fingers like water, grounding him. You haven’t protested, haven’t pulled back, and the faint smile on your lips reassures him that you’re okay with this—more than okay. You glance up at him again, brow furrowed slightly in concentration, and the sight makes his heart stutter.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly, his voice rough with emotion. He needs you to be comfortable, to know that he’ll stop the moment you ask.
You pause, your hands stilling, and you smile at him, a gentle curve of your lips that speaks volumes. “I’m okay,” you whisper.
Finally, you manage to undo his pants, your small hand brushing against his erection as you pull down the zipper. He groans at the brief contact, the sound guttural and raw. When your fingers wrap hesitantly around him, his breath hitches, and he can’t stop the way his hips shift forward, seeking more of your touch.
“God,” he murmurs, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Your touch is tentative, exploratory, and it sends jolts of pleasure straight to his core.
You look up at him, startled by the intensity of his reaction. “Is that... okay?” you ask, your voice laced with innocence and curiosity.
“It’s more than okay,” he rasps, his hands moving to your shoulders, needing something to hold onto, to anchor himself. “You’re perfect.”
Encouraged, you start to stroke him, your hand sliding up and down his shaft in slow, deliberate movements. He watches you, his gaze locked on the way your small hand moves over him. The sight alone is almost too much.
When your tongue darts out to wet your lips, he groans deeply, his head falling back for a moment as he imagines that mouth on him. The vividness of the fantasy sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through him.
“Baby,” he says, his voice strained, “I’m not going to last much longer like this.”
Your eyes widen slightly, disbelief flickering across your features. He chuckles softly despite himself, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he confesses, his voice heavy with sincerity.
“I just... I’ve never done this before,” you admit shyly, your cheeks flushing deeper. “I don’t want to mess it up.”
“Baby, you’re not doing anything wrong,” he assures you, his hands moving to cradle your face. The warmth of your skin beneath his palms soothes and excites him all at once. “Can I show you?”
You nod, your expression curious, and he takes a steadying breath, his restraint hanging by a thread. Gently, he guides your hand away, needing a moment to compose himself before he completely unravels.
“Like this?” you ask, your voice so soft it’s almost a whisper. The innocent question makes his chest tighten with affection and desire.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “Just like that. Only with your mouth.”
His hand moves to the back of your head, not to push or force but to guide. He’s desperate for this but careful, wanting you to feel safe, to enjoy it as much as he knows he will.
“Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he urges, his voice gentle but firm.
“Okay,” you reply, nodding.
When your lips part and touch the tip of his cock, he shudders violently, a sharp gasp tearing from his throat. The wet heat of your mouth surrounds him, and it’s so much better than he ever imagined.
“Fuck,” he whispers, his head falling back as you take him deeper, your tongue flicking against him experimentally. His hands clutch the sheets, desperate for something to hold as his hips jerk involuntarily.
You pull back slightly, looking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “Was that okay?”
“More than okay,” he groans, his voice thick with need. “You’re incredible.”
Bolstered by his praise, you take him in again, this time with more confidence. Your mouth moves over him slowly, tentatively, and the sensation is almost overwhelming.
“God,” he groans, his voice ragged. “I’m going to come.”
His hand returns to your hair, fingers threading through it as he fights the urge to thrust deeper into your mouth. He doesn’t want to push too far, to take too much.
When he finally lets go, the release is overwhelming, a rush of pleasure so intense it leaves him trembling. You stay with him through it, warm spurts of cum painting the back of your throat.
As you pull back, you wipe your mouth with a shy smile, and he reaches for you, pulling you into his arms. He presses a soft kiss to your cheek, his heart still racing as he holds you close.
“Was it... good?” you ask, your voice small and uncertain.
“It was amazing,” he says, his voice hoarse with emotion. “You were amazing.”
Your giggle lights up the room, and his chest swells with affection. “I thought I did it wrong at first,” you admit, laughing softly.
“You were perfect,” he assures you, kissing you again. “Better than I ever imagined.”
133 notes · View notes
ssentimentals · 1 day ago
Note
Hi, are you only take requests from the prompt? I’m gonna leave my request and if you want to write it I’ll be really happy…🙏🏼
So the reader is also a singer but her brother is one of the f1 drivers can be Sainz or Leclerc, and she is dating (can be S.Coups, Joshua or Wonu) and they meet for the first time at the GP and get along really well .
Thanks 🤍🤍🤍
oh my god. my dear anonie. i have no hope left that you are still here, but in case you are - i am so, so sorry for catching up so late with this wonderful message. i was focused on prompts and my inbox was floored. but i got to it now and i am hoping that you'll like it!! sorry again :((
seungcheol + singer!reader (carlos sainz's sister)
seungcheol had many nerve-wracking moments in his life. his first ever performance, first tour abroad, performance on international festival, performance in front of a president for god's sake. but nothing really made him as nervous as he is now, entering the race venue. for all his bravado on being the fearless leader, seungcheol feels fear gripping his heart at the thought of meeting your brother. he tries to tell himself that it's all good - it's not like cheol has anything to hide and it's not like your brother is some kind of-
'is that carlos? oh my god, it is! carlos! carlos, carlos sainz!'
right. no biggie. seungcheol follows the direction of running and screaming girls and instantly clocks familiar red posters and dozens people with cameras around. he pauses and pulls his cap even lower, taking a deep breath. you can do this, he pep talks himself, slowly coming closer. so what that he's a famous f1 driver? so what that he looks like one punch from him will send me flying to the next wall? it's all good, all good. seungcheol notices you too when he comes as close as fans allow him to; you're standing not far from your brother, looking beautiful in red ferrari merch, smiling happily at the sight of people swooning over carlos. seungcheol lets himself enjoy these few moments of just looking at you without you noticing, just taking you in. he saw thousand photos of you from your concerts and red carpets, even more from your ads and magazines, but nothing beats just looking at you up close. your beauty never fails to amaze him; he still has no idea how he managed to make you his. sometimes it all does feel like fever induced dream from his part.
'sorry, excuse me,' seungcheol makes his way through the fangirls and photographers, waving a little when you notice him. your face lights up at the sight of him and his heart skips a beat - how did he get so lucky? waving him over, you giggle loudly when he hugs you tight. 'hello, gorgeous.'
'you made it!' you squeal, hugging him even tighter before pulling back. 'you weren't replying, i thought maybe something else came up.'
'sorry babe, just wanted to surprise you.' seungcheol is relieved that for once cameras are not pointing at you two; he confidently wraps his arm around your waist. 'everything's okay?'
you nod, smiling. 'i'm so excited! it's been a while since i came to the race.' your eyes drift to your brother's tall figure before looking back at your boyfriend. 'are you ready to meet my brother?'
seungcheol hopes his smile is convincing. 'of course i am. i'd love to.'
you see through his acting and squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. 'you have nothing to worry about, cheollie. he's amazing and he already knows so much about you!'
seungcheol gulps. he knows exactly what? does he know that he made you cry one month agoo during your fight? does he know that he gets weirdly possessive over you? does he know this or does he also know that seungcheol makes sure you have a bouquet waiting for you in every single hotel you stay whenever you're touring or that since you came into his life he never had eyes for anyone else? what exactly does carlos sainz know?
'come meet cheollie, carlos!' you wave at your brother, who walks over to your side, eyes trained on seungcheol.
seungcheol does not tremble. he does not shiver. he's a world class performer and he puts on his best smile and shakes carlos's hand with what he hopes is an adequate amount of strength. carlos's raised eyebrow tells him that he fucked up that one. 'nice to finally meet you,' carlos says, voice rather friendly even if his face remains impassive.
'likewise,' seungcheol says and tries to come up with something else, hating his own short answer: 'uh- happy to be here! on the race, i mean. good luck today, beat everyone.'
carlos tilts his head and chuckles. 'it's just a free practice today, race is on sunday.'
next to him, you snicker and seungcheol feels how tip of his ears burn in shame. god, what a way to go. right when he's scrambling for words to say, carlos saves him with a friendly pat on the shoulder: 'it's okay. you know nothing about racing, right?'
'i'll teach him everything!' you volunteer, snuggling closer to his side. seungcheol is thankful for your support and he's also happy that carlos doesn't point out anything about your pda. 'by sunday he'll be your main fan, carlito.'
'i already am!' seungcheol rushes to say. 'a fan, big fan, i mean.'
carlos is nice enough to let his awkwardness slide. his eyes linger on the way seungcheol's arm is wrapped around his sister's waist, but he says nothing. 'let's go to the paddock, you'll meet my team.'
seungcheol has a running suspicion that he fucked everything up, but the way you glow happily makes him think otherwise. he leans in, kissing your cheek and smiling at the way you lean more towards him; it feels so good to be able to do this without worrying. 'are you happy?' seungcheol asks, not being to look away from your shining face.
'i am,' you confirm, turning to him. 'you are here, my brother is here, it's a race weekend! everything is great.' you reach out, caressing his cheek. 'he likes you. i can tell, don't worry.'
'i am making a fool of myself in front of him,' seungcheol whispers, very close to whining. 'tell him that i am not like that usually.'
'i know how you are usually,' carlos suddenly says, turning to him with a wide smile. 'she tells me everything. always gushes about you.' carlos pauses, letting them catch up with him. he jokingly slaps seungcheol's shoulder. 'you're putting that bar very high, my friend.'
seungcheol rarely blushes but he is sure that his face is all red now. it feels undeserving to have carlos praise him like this, for some reason.
'he makes me happy!' you proclaim, making seungcheol's heart squeeze in his chest.
carlos's gaze softens and he reaches out, gently ruffling your hair. 'i know he does, bebe. it's good.' he then turns to seungcheol: 'you better keep it that way.'
seungcheol clears his throat. 'planning on it.'
carlos nods, satisfied. 'good. now let's go and turn you into tifosi.'
a/n: what a crossover this is :D hopefully you liked it, let me know! - nini
find more seventeen works HERE
find more formula 1 works HERE
57 notes · View notes