#there are things going on behind the scenes

[jarofstyles]

Cabernet

This can be read as a standalone I think, but! Here is a second part of Merlot! It's spicy and sweet so I hope you guys like it. Unsure if there will be any more parts (I’m open if you guys have more ideas!) but I do love a good dilfrry.

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WC- 4.1k

Warnings- smut, age gap relationship, anal (for those who asked ur welcome!), unprotected sex, cumplay, Dom/sub elements

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Harry was by far the best man she had ever dated. 

Their age gap was evident at times, but not in a bad way. It was rather cute when he had been confused about videos she sent or his own excitement to show her the movies or books he was referencing. The added element of their dynamic was learning from one another. Harry had been teaching her about publishing and helping her flesh out the first draft of her book while she sat in his office some days, helping him out in return by getting him coffee or lunch or an occasional shoulder massage when he got particularly stressed. An unofficial assistant of sorts. 

“I feel like if I have to write the word ‘said’ one more time, my brain is going to explode.” She grumbled, pushing her laptop across the couch and leaning back on it. The leather seat in his office was by far the most comfortable one she had sat on and he happily invited her to come into the office to see him as often as she wanted. It was both practical and selfish on both ends.It was easier to work in a space like this and with the understanding that Harry really did have work he was doing, she focused on her own stuff. A quiet pair of people working in each other’s company. 

Add in the fact that he was the boss man, it made it much easier for her to come and go as she pleased. 

“Mm, sometimes authors get stuck with words in their novels. They’ll have phrases they repeat a few too many times, usually gets called out in editing and fixed. It’s not a bad thing. But with words that are action words like that, there are options. Y’know, depending on the scene and tone. Murmured, muttered, peeped, whispered, whined, moaned, huffed, grumbled. Those sorts of words.” He tapped his pen against the desk as he lifted his eyes to her. 

It didn’t get old. Seeing her pretty face sitting in his office looking the way she did, much more comfortable than the night they’d first met, but still appropriate for an office setting.

Sometimes he did let his mind wander into the roleplay aspect, wondering if she had been his real assistant if he would have made a move. If Y/N was the Y/N he knew now? Probably. Scandalous. 

Today she wore a pair of black flowy pants and a matching turtleneck, but on top she had a chunky knit cardigan that was utterly adorable. It had yellow moons and stars, a deep purple color with sleeves she had to push up so they didn’t hide her hands. His girl leaned into the office aesthetic when she came in so she didn’t stick out too much but with him or when they were at his place or out together, he loved seeing her dressed in her normal clothing. She looked soft, whimsical almost. Like a little fairy. 

“Hm. Good point. I need to write down all the synonyms in my notes app and defer to that because if I’m getting tired of writing it, I know whoever ends up reading it will get tired of seeing it too.” Her lips puffed to blow a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun, brows furrowed as she failed and made her hand ready up to tuck it behind her ear instead. 

Again, cute.

“Not necessarily.” He replied, leaning back in his chair. “We’re our own harshest critics. I doubt they’re paying that much attention to that. The majority of people will be paying attention to world building, character development, plot, sex scenes, all that fun stuff. The exact wording isn’t always the most important thing. But it shows that you care about quality.” He shot her a grin. “So you will be successful.”

“Mmm… and not because I’m fucking the publishing head?” She grinned as she stood up, stretching her arms out. 

“Well. That helps.” He wouldn’t deny it. She had a leg up, but he wouldn’t publish just anything. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t publish shit work. It isn’t worth the reputation of my company. Your writing is genuinely good, my sweet.” He knew the drill by now. Her heeled boots were kicked off by the couch and she made her way over to him, the tiredness starting to hit her as she happily perched herself on his lap. 

“Good to know.” She snorted before pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek. The facial hair had grown but he was shaping it currently. She promised she’d be okay with whatever he did to it but didn’t want anything to happen to the mustache. That wasn’t allowed to go. “What are you working on? Anything fun?” 

“No, nothing incredibly interesting I’m afraid.” His hand squeezed her hip underneath the cardigan. “I was working on some contracts earlier but every so often I pick up some submissions and read through them myself. This one is very bland, unfortunately. There’s potential, absolutely. Their writing style is lovely, but the plot falls flat and the characters are one dimensional. S’like they chose a specific stereotype and did nothing to differentiate them.” It was unfortunate.” It was a shame he came across all too often.

“It’s obvious this person is trying but they’ve never observed or met someone with these traits. I don’t think you absolutely have to follow the rule ‘write what you know’, but I think a lot of the best works come from drawing from our own experiences. Romance, for them, doesn’t seem to be a passion. They’d do better with mystery with their writing style as it is, but they have to improve on other aspects first.” 

“Is it hard for you to see stuff like that?” She asked curiously, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I can tell you’re a little disappointed with it, so I have to wonder if it happens a lot.”

“It does. And it is hard when you see someone with potential not living up to it but I have faith that if we send them some constructive criticism notes that maybe they won’t see it as an attack but as a place of genuine care. I’m going to have someone meet with them I think, give them my notes and have them explain it in nicer terms than the plain ones I used. Maybe they can work on it again and add more and we’d have a best seller.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I can see they care about it in the way they put details in, but it needs more.”

There was something incredibly attractive about listening to him talk about it. It was always attractive to see someone care and talk about their passions; but Harry was on another level. She could see it on his face that he was disappointed and knew the person could do better. While it made it all the more nerve wracking for her own novel, she had him working with her along the way.

He never told her where to go with her story in terms of ideas, but how to improve the mechanics. Reading over bits and telling her to take away a certain detail and add more in other places, or giving suggestions about how things could flow smoother. He’d listened to her storyboard, after showing her the author equivalent of it, and gave his honest feedback from a publisher's point of view and then from a boyfriend’s point of view.

Sometimes it was more obvious that he was the one with miles more life experience in these instances but she couldn’t be upset about it when it only aided in strengthening their relationship. 

“I see.” She looked at the manuscript on the desk with the red pen of doom. “Oof. The red pen is out… and you’ve used it a lot.” 

“Well, there are errors.” He chuffed, kissing her cheek in return. “Did you get enough done?” The word count goal had been 3,000 for today, but he didn’t make it for her. It was all on her. He simply helped keep her accountable.

“I did more. I think… 4.5?” She tilted her head trying to remember. “Now my head feels like soup.” It did feel like mush right now. That was why the laptop was closed and abandoned and she was finding comfort in the man. It was like a reward. 

“That’s ace, my dove. Amazing.” He praised. The pride he felt for her was earned fair and square. She had been applying herself more now than ever. Since their first night together they hadn’t really separated, seeing each other at least a few times a week. Her work ethic was there as she had zeroed in on what she wanted. “Why don’t we finish this up and go back to mine, mm?” 

Harry had been holding off all week. He’d gone a bit rough one night and even though she said she was fine, he wanted to give her body time to relax. As much as he loved sex, he had wanted her body to enjoy it more than anything else. Not be overly swollen and sore the next day. 

Today was going to be the day to break that. A full week of nothing but heated kisses, and she was as needy as needy could get. He felt her perk up at the mention, sitting up straighter in his lap. 

“Please! Let’s go. We can get food on the way home but I think we have some pressing matters to attend to.” She sniffed, standing from him and offering a hand to help him up. “Chop chop. Get a move on, mister.”

——-

Two rounds in and he knew she could take it. Her poor cunt was a mess and he knew that as pretty as it was all drippy and swollen, she had been aching for him to get a try into her other hole. They’d had a proper discussion about it, and he had effectively been edging her the entire night. Fair? No, but she knew how he rolled. The promised pleasure first, experiments after. Just in case she wanted to stop, she got something out of the night. 

She’d been warming his cock for a bit as he held her in his arms, cooing soft praises about how good of a girl she was, how brave she had been to ask for something new tonight when he felt her get impatient. She didn’t need to say it. He knew her well enough now to understand what she wanted. Pulling his cock out and rubbing the tip against her asshole, pressing against it and spreading the sticky cum over the rim.  “Want me t’fuck this tight little ass too?  Fill you from both ends."

“Wanna try.” She nodded, panting as her cunt contracted and his cum dribbled out of her pussy. “You’re so big I… I dunno if I can take it. Go slow.” Y/N knew she was slightly cock drunk but she also trusted him. He’d made her feel good already, took his time with everything else why wouldn’t she want to test this with him?

“Okay, my sweet. Just relax.” Harry wasn’t nervous, but he was cautious. His girl was precious cargo, and he wanted to make sure it felt as good as it could. He’d done the work of stretching her with his fingers, but it was going to be a challenge to get him in there regardless. He slowly pushed his thick head past the tight rim of her back hole. Watching her face intently, his own contorted with pleasure. "You're doing so good, doll," he encouraged softly. "Just relax and let me in. You can take it."

The pressure was intense, and she hissed out a breath as he slowly pushed more and more of himself into her. His thick head stretched her wide, and he paused, letting her adjust to the new sensation. "Breathe." The reminder was whispered as he realized she was holding her breath, his hand carding through her hair tenderly.

"That's it, baby. You're taking it so well. Always do so good f’me." He praised, his voice low and soothing. He slowly pushed more of himself into her, inch by inch, his thick prick spreading her wide. She could feel every vein, every ridge, as he slowly filled her up.

As he slid deeper, Harry could feel the intense pressure and stretch around his girth. Her tight little hole was gripped tightly around his shaft, the muscles fluttering and contracting as he pushed his way inside. She felt like she was being split in two, her body struggling to accommodate his bigger size- but she was. Slowly but surely, he sunk into her fully.

She had done it. 

“Fuck.” She sobbed out, clinging to him as he got down to the base. Never in her life had she felt so full that way, so stretched. Only Harry could make her feel this way. It wasn’t just the physical feeling, but the emotional one too. She trusted him more than she trusted anyone else. His guidance was priceless.

"You're doing so good, You’ve got it all in. Jus’ gotta let it adjust." he soothed, his voice strained as he fought to keep control. Giving her a moment to adjust, his hands stroking her hair and her cheeks, his thumb brushing away her tears. "You feel so hot around me, doll. So tight. Knew y’would be."

“I wanna be… I want you to feel good.” She whispered, looking at him with wet eyes. “It’s just so big. I’m tryin’ to take it.” It surely wasn't a beginner cock but she wasn’t known for taking the easy way.

"You're doing so well, baby," he reassured her, his hands never leaving her. He slowly pulled out halfway before sinking in again, a little faster this time. "That's it... take me all the way in."

It was the fourth time he did it that she felt the pleasure. Both from the action and the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against her swollen clit, making her gasp. Her eyes fell shut as she leaned her head back, slowly relaxing into the bed.

He watched her face contorted in pleasure, his heart swelling with pride. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough. As she opened her eyes, he began to pick up the pace, his hips pressing against hers. "M’so proud of you. Look at you, taking every bit of me.”

Y/N sent him a blissed out smile as her hand slipped between them, rubbing her own clit slowly as he fucked into her ass. There was nothing rushed about it, nothing frantic, and it felt good just to be. Her muscles relaxed, making it feel even better as his cock filled her hole. Soft moans left her mouth as she curled her other hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down so he was close. “Are they the best holes you’ve had?”

Harry’s face was lax in his own pleasure as he felt her tight ass clench around his cock. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his breath hot against her lips. “They are. So fucking tight, so perfect. Can’t compare them t’anything else.” He kept up his steady rhythm, loving how her body moved with his. “You feel so good. Can never get enough of you.” He whispered, brushing a stray hair out of her face before stroking her puffy lip. They were so pretty. Kissing wasn’t something he’d thought much of before, but he hadn’t kissed Y/N. She had changed everything for him. 

“Better than that silly ex wife?” She prodded, watching with a little smirk as she watched him think it over. Y/N had a feeling she was by the way be was acting,  but she wanted to hear it.

"Way better." he grunted, his hips snapping forward. "Little minx, y’just need to ask that, hm? No need to be jealous. She never gets t’have me again. Only y-you." He stuttered as her hand moved around his neck and she squeezed down hard on him. "Her holes were nothing compared to yours, doll. Nothing."

Y/N giggled as she choked him a little bit, watching his eyes widen before pulling. It was obvious that while he was the big man in charge- she could have fun too. “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll tell you a secret, Harry.” Her lips brushed his as she kept the grip on his throat. Her lips were swollen and sensitive, the coarse facial hair brushing it and making her want to moan. “None of the boys my age have ever made me cum. They never fucked my ass. Never fucked me raw. And you did it all.”

"And I'm gonna keep doing it," he rumbled, eyes burning with lust as she kissed him. His hand tightened in her hair, tugging gently and pulling her deeper into the kiss. “You’ve got a man now, no need to think of those boys.You want me t’keep being nice to you? Keep making you cum?”

“If you keep fucking me like this, I do. Want my man to be so, so nice to me.” She gasped as he pushed all the way in, balls rested snug against her ass as he slowly humped into her, the comfort of the fullness making her fingers work harder on her clit. “Gotta- Gotta prove you can keep up with me, old man. That you c-can live up to the hype. I like the bit of silver at your temples but…” Her moan was broken as he pulled out and pushed back in, jostling her. “Gotta prove why older guys are b-better for pretty little things like me.”

"Oh, I'll prove it to you," he growled, picking up pace as he pounded into her tight ass. She had no idea just how badly he’d needed her to walk into his life. Thank god she had. This was everything he had ever wanted. "And right now, you need me to wreck this little hole until you can't walk straight. You need me to show you how a real man handles his woman. I'll give you everything you crave, everything you need. You just have to let go and trust me.” The man had every intention of proving how much better he could be for her than she could ever imagine.

"Fuck, look at this cunt." He muttered, reaching down to spread her dripping pussy apart. "It's absolutely soaked, just dripping down. Love it, hm?” The smugness in his tone would usually make her scowl but there was no denying it. The proof was right there. It was undeniable. “You're so turned on, baby. It's making it easier for me to fuck this tight little ass of yours." The glossy, hard flesh glistened with slick, dripping down onto the bed beneath her. His own cum intermingled with her own, making his movements smoother as he pushed in and out of her, coating her holes with their combined essence.

Her face was a mask of pure ecstasy, her eyes rolled back in her head as she whimpered in pleasure, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. Her asshole clenching and unclenching around his thick cock with each thrust, trying to milk him for all he was worth. Her body was feeling tingly, her legs trembling as he fucking into her ass, the sound of her arousal and his hips hitting her skin filling the room. She was completely lost in the pleasure, her mind clouded by the overwhelming sensation of being thoroughly fucked.

As she reached the peak of her orgasm, he took over and began rubbing her clit with his own thumb, the sensation sending waves of pleasure cascading through her body. She cried out, her pussy gushing as she came harder than she would have imagined being fucked like this. She was so overwhelmed that she could only hold limply onto his arms as he continued to pound into her, his thick cock stretching her hole as it thrust through the waves of her intense orgasm.

His face contorted, vein bulging in his neck as he struggled to hold back. "You feel too good, baby. I can't... I can't hold back any longer." His heavy balls drew up close to his body, ready to unleash another load inside of her. The feeling of her taut muscles milking him, the way she clung to him with every fiber of her being, it was too much. He was sensitive himself, but he wanted to deliver everything she wanted.

"Please, Harry...Please,come inside me... I wanna feel you fill me up. Want it everywhere." She panted, her voice desperate with need. Half of the fun of sex was seeing him lose that control he so easily held in all other scenarios. She wanted to make him feel just as good as he made her feel. He deserved it.

His restraint shattered at her words.  "Fuck, you're gonna get what you asked for."

With a guttural groan, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and let go, his hot load pulsing into her hole in thick ropes. She felt each ribbon scalding her , marking her as his. "That's it, take it all... That’s m’girl.” He kept cumming, his cock twitching as he filled her. Ribbon after ribbon filled her up until she was overflowing with his load, almost overwhelmingly so. He finally slowed, his chest heaving, before gently pulling out of her ass, his cock glistening with the evidence of their fuck.

With a sense of possessive pride, he watched as his cum began to leak out of her stretched hole, dripping down her thighs. It was satisfying in the filthiest way. Primal and caveman in every sense of the word, he loved knowing that he had done it. He’d taken every one of her holes and made her his in the dirtiest type of way. He gently spread her cheeks apart, admiring the sight of his mark leaking from her. "Look at that... You're so full of me, S’that what you wanted?”

“Mhm.” She smiled, slightly drunk on the orgasm and the fact that he had pushed her further than anyone else had before. it was a good feeling in her body, the beginnings of soreness and the calming heat of his hands as he caressed her the way he wanted. “Exactly what I wanted. Think M’gonna have to keep you around so we can do that again.”

“I’d hope so.” He laughed tiredly, pushing back down to take her mouth for another kiss. “I’m far from finished with you, sweet little thing. But I think I’ve ravaged your body enough. Think you need a bath and some tea, get you ready to sleep.” 

Aftercare wasn’t something she’d experienced in any other relationship either, but she realized now it was probably a Harry exclusive thing. He was phenomenal at it. A lot of things, honestly. He experimented with her responsibly, took care of her after every round of sex, checked in on her, made sure she was eating proper meals, and helped her with her career. She’d lucked out with him. Whatever his ex wife was thinking, she had no clue- but she wasn’t about to waste a single bit of him.

“Do you have chamomile?” She asked softly, pecking his lips in return. 

“What do you take me for? Course I’ve got it.” He scoffed, pinching her chin. “But if I didn’t, I’d find some for you. Know it’s your favorite. Added it to the grocery list, along with your cereal, your rancid battery acid energy drinks, and the sweet and salty popcorn.” 

“It’s good battery acid, I’ll have you know.” She giggled, carding her fingers through his hair. He did have a bit of gray going on the temples but it was sexy. Just hearing how much he cared and put effort into the tiny things made her giddy. 

“Yeah, yeah. We can talk about your poison in the morning. It’s time to get clean and go t’sleep. Tomorrow may be the day you write five thousand words. You never know.”

[mattsnight]

Hide it - Matt Sturniolo

Summary: in which Matt hides his feelings for you, but eventually can’t take it anymore.

Warnings: fluff, cursing,

A/N:

Matt couldn’t hide it any longer. He couldn’t hide his love for you. His feelings were hard to control when you were around. It was sickening. He didn’t say anything about it, because he didn’t want to hurt you or ruin the friendship you guys have. It was too important for, but he also couldn’t stuff his feelings away any longer. He was in love with you and that was a problem.

Every time you hang out with Nick Matt’s in the room. He’s always staring at you, but when you turn to look at him he quickly turns away. You didn’t think much of it, until things changed. Matt started acting weird. He was always stuttering around you and didn’t have proper conversations with you.

You had come to the triplets’ house to make some pictures with Nick. The house was mostly quiet, only soft sounds were heard from Matt’s room. He was most likely playing fortnight. You sat down on the couch, waiting for Nick to return from his room.

“Oh hey y/n..” you suddenly hear a voice say. You look at the figure, it’s Matt. A small smile forms on your face as you wave at him. He freezes at your smile, regretting his decision of coming out of his room. He was already getting nervous at the fact of his crush being infront of him. Suddenly a wave of confidence washes over him. It was now or never. “Y/N i can’t do this anymore.” He says, swallowing.

“Can’t do what?” You ask, looking at him in confusion.

“I-“ he runs his hand through his hair. There’s a moment of silence. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t just say ‘hey im in love with you! Can we make out?’ can he? Another deep breath leaves his mouth as he tries to get himself together. “Fucking hell..” He holds his breath as he looks into your eyes to see any kind of reaction. “Can’t you see how obsessed i am with you?” A surprised sound leaves your mouth. You don’t say anything for a while, surprised by his confession.

“Jesus Y/N, say something please.” He begs. His nervousness gets worse within seconds. Did you hate him now? “I- you like me?” You ask. Realization hits you hard. He actually likes you. Your mind goes blank at the thought, all your thoughts vanishing. He slides both his hands into his pockets, hiding how badly he’s sweating.

“Yes Y/N and im tired of you not noticing! I tried everything to make you look at me, yet it’s not working.” He groans mentally, blaming himself for raising his voice at you. “Sorry… i-“ he starts, but gets cut off when you slam your lips against his. This kiss was everything he needed. Everything he needed to know you had the same feeling about him and it was amazing. It wasn’t passionate, just full of love and desperation.

Your hands slide into his hair, gently pulling at it to get closer. His hands go down your sides, gripping you tightly. You slowly start backing up into a wall, which he does too. Then he pulls back to get some air. You look up into his blue eyes, smiling. He smiles back almost immediately, wiping your hair out of your face. “That was..” he chuckles, still a hit breathless. “So fuckin’ amazing.”

Suddenly you hear a laugh behind you. You turn around to see Nick standing there. He had watched the whole scene and was laughing by it. Matt rolls his eyes, before looking away. “Took you long enough, kid. Will you stop bothering me now you’ve kissed the girl?” Nick smiles, before looking at you. “He wouldn’t stop talking about you. Seriously. It was so tiring.”

A small smile forms on your face. You look at Matt who’s now filled up with embarrassment. “I’ll leave you guys alone. Let’s do the pictures another time, alright?” Nick suggests. You nod, knowing you need time to let this sink in and spend some time with Matt.

This was gonna be great.

no nut november fic 3! I hope yall like this💞 (also i wont be posting as much since i need to learn for assignments and stuff</3)

[kurooh]

★ 02. MORNING ROUTINE !

☆ after filming your first scene and talking it over with your agent, you’re off to your second . . in a maid costume!? once filming is over, you’re roped into an interesting conversation regarding a few other stars.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, everyone is over 21, oral (f receiving), cum eating, maids, awkwardness, creampie, unprotected sex. | 4.9K words

xoxo, juno. SHES BACKKKKK! comment & rb if you enjoyed! thank u to wolfy anon for proofreading ily ♡

SHOWTIME MLIST.

“hey, good morning,” shinsou rushes up to you at the doors, lightly grabbing onto your shoulder before you can walk into the studio. “how’d yesterday’s shoot go for you?”

“good morning!” you reply happily, lighting up as you turn to face your agent. “let’s get some coffee from the place across the street, and i can tell you while we walk?”

“sounds good,” he exhales, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. “it’s definitely getting colder, god. i could seriously use some coffee.”

“ah, it is. anyway, filming wasn’t too bad. i had director iida, i believe? yeah, he was pretty alright.” you and shinsou walk side by side, stopping to hit the button and waiting for the lights to change.

shinsou gives a small smile, crossing the street with you. “how’d it go with your co-star? i figured he’d be a good introduction for you.”

“shōto was nice,” you say, warmth rising to your cheeks. the memory of being pressed against him and fucking is a little blurry, but just thinking about it has your pussy clenching around nothing. the faint feeling of his touch ghosts across your skin, and you clear your throat awkwardly. “um . . i think we ended up doing well together.”

shinsou’s not surprised. after all, he pulled the strings behind the scenes to get you with him.

“that’s good! i’ve been meaning to ask you about what you’re interested to do today,” shinsou holds the door of the coffee shop open for you and follows you inside. “i’ll get you up to speed after we order, alright? and don’t worry, i’ll just cover your drink.”

“oh,” you’re in the middle of unzipping your purse, “you really don’t have to, shinsou! i’ve got it.”

“i insist, it’s my treat.” he leaves no room for you to fight him any further, and you place the order together once it’s your turn.

“what were you saying about filming today?” you draw his attention back to the aforementioned topic as you sit down at a table together to wait for your drinks.

“oh, that’s right. you’ve been booked by a lot of different people, so you’ve gotta choose who you want to film with today. personally, i think you’ve got some decent options.”

“is that so?” you exhale, wondering if anyone else could possibly top your experience with shōto. but of course, you’re employed at a pornography studio, where dreams become reality and anything is possible.

shinsou’s voice drops to a low whisper, his words meant for your ears only. “well, there’s this . . maid thing, or some kind of bdsm shoot.”

“those are not good options,” you groan, closing your eyes briefly in disgust. “who’re the people booking? anyone important?”

“obviously, the maid film is from denki kaminari. the bdsm is—”

you’ve seen denki kaminari’s videos before. he seems to be energetic and also a little pervy, but he’s good looking and you’re not in the mood to be tied up in ropes or chains.

“i’ll go with the maid film. is he offering a lot?”

“kaminari’s a bit . . eccentric,” shinsou offers, waving his hand dismissively. “he doesn’t usually book with a set amount in mind like everyone else does. he prefers to shoot the film and then pay based off of what it makes.”

so, there are a few financial risks when it comes to choosing denki kaminari, but you sigh and bite the bullet. “that’s not ideal, but i’ll take it. when’s it scheduled?”

shinsou looks over at a mounted clock behind you, “if you’re going for this, you’re supposed to be over there in an hour.”

the barista calls out shinsou’s name, and you pick up the coffees while he sends a confirmation email to kaminari’s agent.

your arrival to shinsou’s office is met with an assistant of some kind dropping off a garment bag. through the fabric, you can see big frills and bows that most definitely will be itchy when you’re going around in it.

shinsou takes the bag with a sigh, and the assistant presses a yellow sticky note to the side of it before scurrying off quickly. you pick up the yellow paper and read the messy writing scrawled onto it.

hey! please change into this before arriving to set, director’s orders. we hope the dress is comfortable, even though it doesn’t look like it.

“i assume this is from kaminari?” you say flatly, tugging the sticky note off the bag.

“of course it is,” shinsou replies, holding the door open for you, “you can change in here before you head over. by the way, you’re heading to the fourth floor and turning to the left.”

“thanks, shinsou.”

unzipping the garment bag yields a frilly black and white dress decked out with bows and all kinds of lace. tucked in neatly beside the dress is a folded set of thigh high socks and a prop duster that looks as though it’s never been used. you pull off your clothes and change into the provided ones with little excitement. at the very least, you’ll get paid well and then end up filming something better, hopefully again with shōto.

shinsou nearly drops his phone when you step out of his office in that ridiculous dress—it looks so good on you, accentuating your chest and complimenting your figure beautifully. you fiddle with the bow necktie, fingers tangling in the black fabric. his mouth goes dry when you look up at him shyly, gesturing toward the necktie as best you can.

“could you help me tie this, shinsou?”

“of course,” he nods politely, snapping out of his daze. his nimble fingers undo the knots you’ve created and he ties it easily for you, pulling it into a snug bow. “you look great, by the way.” immediately after the words leave his mouth, he regrets having added that bit, but you smile at him and give him a spin, letting your skirt fan out.

“thanks. wish me luck?”

“good luck,” shinsou laughs dryly, turning away quickly before you can notice the redness blooming on his cheeks. “remember, fourth floor and to the left. there’ll be a sign or something on the door.”

you wave, thanking him again, and you both go your separate ways. the elevator comes quickly, and you go upwards silently, until the elevator stops a floor too early.

“there’s my pretty co-star!” an energetic voice exclaims, and the owner of it steps onto the elevator, practically buzzing with excitement. “come on, we can head up together!”

you recognize him easily; denki kaminari’s signature blond hair has a streak of black through it, and he’s got a winning smile playing on his lips, showcasing his nice teeth.

“it’s nice to meet you,” you say, offering a hand in his direction. his energy isn’t off putting, just a little . . much for the first film of the day. kaminari instead wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, giving you a warm hug as though you’re a long lost friend of his.

the elevator’s chugging upwards slowly, and kaminari’s still wrapped around you. well, okay. this is slightly weird; you’re going to be all over each other in less than twenty minutes and he’s already this friendly? something about him already has you on edge, necktie suddenly feeling like a noose.

you cough, pulling away and practically skittering into the corner of the elevator. he looks at you weirdly, confusion written all over his face, but you straighten and smooth out the ruffles on your dress.

“i’m sorry, it’s—we just met,” you utter, at a loss for words. maybe this is just how he is, but now you’re starting to worry if you’ve jeopardized your dynamic on set with him.

kaminari’s features soften with embarrassment, cheeks growing pink. then he very obviously panics internally, voice frantic and high as he tries to explain himself.

“oh my god! you’re right, i’m so sorry!” he stumbles over his words, and you wonder if the elevator is stuck with how long it’s taking. “i’m sorry, i really . . i’ve wanted to meet you for the longest time, and now you must think i’m a dumbass—ah, sorry!”

at last, the elevator finally comes to a halt. its doors open and you dash out, kaminari following with his head hanging. before you can open the door, he stops you with a sigh.

“wait, i—i want to redo our first meeting.”

you turn, gracing him with your attention and patience. “and how exactly do you plan to redo it?”

“with a proper introduction and handshake. no hugs, i promise.” he seems genuine, and your shoulders start to relax. kaminari extends his hand, a truce, and envelops yours once you reach out too.

“well, you already know me. just call me denki, though, okay? no kaminari or anything.”

“understood, denki.”

the door is thrown open and director yaoyorozu pops her head out, looking left and right.

“there you two are! goodness, i was about to send out a search party.”

“it’s nice to meet you,” you say, shaking her hand and stepping inside behind her. “in the email, you didn’t have any kind of script . . is this some kind of freestyle thing?”

“i am so glad you asked,” she sighs, pulling the sharpened pencil from behind her ear. “i’ve got a simple idea to go off of, but the rest of it is up to you.”

“up to us?” denki chokes out, sounding shocked.

“um, yes?” the director sniffs, confused. “remember, you came to me with all of this.”

“director yaomomo, i thought you’d come up with a script!” he whines lamely, and she only rolls her eyes.

“kaminari, please. next time you’re booking a set, director, and supplies last minute, make sure you’ve got something for them to work with besides a generic concept.”

“director, the pancakes are finished and the set is ready.” a member of the film crew flashes her a double thumbs up and a smile.

“great, thanks so much,” yaoyorozu gushes before turning back toward you and denki. “so, the theme here is maids, of course. in this film, she’ll be waiting on you and waking you up with breakfast while you’re fake sleeping. obviously, you’re aware of what takes place next.”

“so, minimal dialogue?” you ask, folding your arms as you listen closely.

“the scene may have as much dialogue as you want it to. i’ll let you two head off and prep before we get started, okay?”

director yaoyorozu’s dark ponytail swings behind her as she saunters off toward the set to make a few more adjustments. denki waves at you, then heads off toward the changing area while you sigh.

—

“is everyone entirely ready and in position?”

a few stage crew members adjust the lighting and some microphones before giving yaoyorozu confirmation through raised thumbs. she nods toward you, just as someone places a hefty tray into your hands. the silver platter carries a plate stacked high with blueberry pancakes, drizzled in syrup, and a tall glass of orange juice beside it. matching silverware sits neatly beside the plate, atop a folded napkin.

yaoyorozu crosses her legs in her director’s chair, while you try not to shake with the heavy breakfast platter in your hands. orange juice lurches from side to side in the glass, threatening to spill over if you don’t remain steady.

“action!”

you smile when you step through the doorway, sweat beading along your forehead as you try to mask the nervousness. denki’s shirtless and on his stomach in the bed, a mess of sheets and blankets covering his lower half. trembling, you finally set the breakfast platter down on the bedside table, taking a seat on the bed.

denki’s getting hard just from feeling the shift of your weight on the mattress. the director might have to end filming early with the way his breath hitches at the touch of your palm to his back. slowly, you rub his skin in small circles, encouraging him to wake up. is it possible to be aroused from an almost entirely innocent gesture coming from someone you don’t know?

he stirs with a groan, turning over with a yawn. denki looks up at you through hooded eyes, his lower half still tangled in the bedsheets.

“good morning, sleepyhead,” you sigh, a lot less nervous now that you’re no longer holding onto that damn tray. “i made you breakfast and cleaned around the house. gently dusted your figure collection too.”

“t-thank you,” denki smiles, sitting up. “uh, what’s for breakfast?”

“blueberry pancakes and OJ,” you say automatically, cutting a piece off the sticky pastries with the fork. “i think you’ll love it.”

there’s something too intimate about the way you feed him the piece of the pancake, your eyes on his as he swallows it.

“well?” you breathe expectantly, lifting his chin and tilting it toward you when he shyly averts his eyes. the simple gesture startles him, sends his heart into quite the flurry, and denki finds himself fighting to get a grip. really, he’s never been this awkward on set in all his years as a pornstar—in fact, a film like this would be the easiest for him . . so why’s it so difficult?

a few sparks fly between you when denki grabs your chin in return, tugging you into a kiss. you gasp, startled, and he licks into your mouth, letting you taste the sweetness of the pancakes for yourself. seriously, whoever made them deserves head; they’re sweet and fruity, but maybe they just taste better on denki’s tongue.

he moans deeply against your lips, and you swallow the low sound with one of your own. beneath all the frills and lacy ruffles, sticky arousal begins to pool in your panties, soaking through the fabric far too easily. meanwhile, denki’s trepidation melts away fully; he grows more absorbed in the kiss, until he regretfully pulls away for breath.

you look at him through your lashes, nodding blissfully when he looks toward your skirt. denki slowly slips a hand beneath all the fabric and groans loudly, his fingers swiping at your damp panties before moving past the fabric to stroke your slick folds.

before you can move into another kiss, the director lets out a peeved sigh and shakes her head, “cut!”

denki pushes a finger inside of you, savoring the gasp you let out like a piece of specialty candy. “listen to yaomomo for both of us, ‘kay?”

“b-but they’re not rolling,” you protest in a whisper shout, although your hips jerk toward him when he sinks in all the way to his knuckle.

“no rules against it, baby.” the once anxious denki you met thirty minutes ago is gone, replaced with the confident pornstar you’ve come to know through years of watching UA’s videos.

yaoyorozu claps her hands together, facing you and denki but not noticing anything going on beneath the umbrella-like cover of your skirt.

“you’re both doing well so far, but when i said the amount of dialogue was up to you, i didn’t mean no talking at all.”

“do we have to reshoot what we’ve done so far?” you gasp out when denki curls his finger right against your g-spot, sending shockwaves of heat throughout your entire body.

nobody seems to notice the inflection in your voice, and the director offers a small smile.

“no, it’s alright, we’ll just edit everything together before it goes out. you’re both doing great, by the way!” her praise is reassuring, and she hops up onto her chair again, then gestures for the crew members to position the cameras.

“action.”

denki’s lips find yours in a bruising kiss, tongue swiping against your lower lip impatiently. he’s quick to pull you on top of him too, wet fingers tugging up your skirt to give the camera a full view of your soaked panties and ass.

“what about the pancakes?” you ask, remembering the director’s tip about the dialogue. if she were to call cut again, the interruption would surely drive you insane.

“what pancakes?”

“the ones i made for you,” you breathe against his lips, eyes flicking to the bedside table. “over there, with the—”

he takes your distraction as an opportunity to press his face into your neck, taking in the smell of your perfume and the softness of your skin. low and quiet, he whispers into your ear, “fuck, you’ve got no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this—for you.”

you whine as he kicks the bedsheets off his body, firmly placing you atop his hard cock. through your panties and his boxers, you can feel the ridges of his tip and the heat of his body.

“how do you want it?” denki purrs, hands settled on your hips. “from the back . . bent over?”

the options he gives you only ignite the arousal burning in your core further; you move off of him, settling on all fours. the wild look you toss him from over your shoulder makes him groan, and he yanks his underwear and pajama pants off as quickly as he can, hurling them into a corner of the set.

“fuckin’ soaked, baby,” he coos, flipping up your skirt and slipping a few fingers beneath the crotch of your panties. your cunt flutters around nothing as he pulls the underwear off, with enough force for the microphones to pick up the ripping sound that follows. “is this all for me?”

he flings the torn garment off the bed carelessly, and it silently lands somewhere on the carpet.

“o-only for you.”

denki chuckles, and guides his cock toward your entrance, but doesn’t push it in just yet. instead, he strokes the tip up and down, gathering your wetness to provide extra lubrication. the tease has your toes curling and your eyes rolling back; denki gifts your ass with a slap, letting out a low whistle.

“you’ll get what you want soon enough, baby. i just . . feel like something’s missing.”

you look over your shoulder when the bed creaks, your co star’s weight leaving the mattress. he grabs at the drawer of the bedside table, and the glass of orange juice rattles against the silver platter from the movement. even director yaoyorozu looks a little lost for words, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

the drawer slams shut and denki returns to the bed behind you in a flash, a miniature black and white vibrator between his fingers. yaoyorozu settles back into her chair with a contented expression, signaling for the cameraman to zoom in between your bodies.

the soft, rubbery head of the vibrator nudges against your clit and you gasp. denki slants his body over yours, pushing his cock inside of you shallowly.

“i—i don’t think i can t-take all of it,” you swallow nervously, inhaling sharply when he bucks his hips forward and plunges inside you, bottoming out easily.

“that’s fuckin’ nonsense,” he groans, pushing a hand through his blond hair to get it away from his eyes. then it wraps loosely around your throat before you can protest any further. “‘course my girl can take it.”

my girl?

denki startles even himself. but this is the magic of being a pornstar and filming around the clock. he’s built up a persona for himself that he always seems to slip into no matter how he’s feeling. he’s thankful for this; otherwise, he’d be a bumbling fool who’d accidentally fuck your thighs, too caught up with excitement to get it together.

his teeth sink into his lower lip hard, scraping against the skin rather roughly as the words burst from his lips uncontrollably.

“g-god, you’ve got no idea how damn long i’ve been waiting to fuck this pretty pussy,” the vibrator turns on and presses flush against your clit, already at the highest setting. “ngh, you’re so tight, baby—got me all worked up with the little maid dress, heh. you look beautiful in it, i swear.”

his babbling soon falls on deaf ears, and you unintentionally tune him out, unable to hear him clearly over your ragged moans and cries. denki’s hips set a somewhat even pace, skin smacking into skin while the vibrator seems to only get more intense.

“c’mon, babe, arch a lil more for me,” he huffs, his palm nudging against the middle of your back.

with a whine, you do as he instructs, burying your face in the sheets.

“aw, i still wanna hear you clearly.” denki clicks his tongue, his fingers leaving the sides of your throat and instead tugging on your necktie. he turns it backwards and pulls your head back so you’re not muffled any longer.

“f-fuck, you’re so deep,” you sob, his strokes growing faster and rougher. the bed creaks beneath you, shaking loudly, and despite his panting, denki’s determined to give you the best sex you’ll ever have at UA studios.

“yeah, babe? feel my cock right here in your tummy?” denki’s voice is strained, his free hand wandering to the plush skin above your pelvis. he presses down experimentally, and he swears you get tighter.

it’s only a little pressure, but it sends shockwaves of something intense throughout your body and knocks the breath from your lungs.

“ooh, you’re squeezin’ me real tight,” denki comments breathily, “i want you to cum for me, got that?”

“‘m so close,” you sob, tossing your ass back onto his cock. “wanna—wanna cum on your cock!”

this is it. this is the big moment where he makes you cum twice on camera and shows all his friends who can fuck you the best. his mouth feels dry and he’s unable to say much of anything to spur you on, talk you through it.

the noisy metal bedframe squeaks louder, the mattress sliding side to side from all the movement. denki doesn’t let up, biting down on his lip so hard he draws some blood while he fucks you through the exhaustion and pain in his sides.

at last, highly anticipated euphoria courses through your bodies at the same time, and his cock begins to twitch against your cervix. a whiny moan tears from his lips as he spills deep inside you, trembling hands grabbing at your waist for purchase. the vibrator maintains its high setting, not letting up even once—in the moment, it’s amazing to ride the waves as you cum, but as you’re coming down, you begin to shudder away from it.

“hah—ah, shit,” you cry, voice pitching. denki pulls out of you, eyes widening in delight as he looks over your sloppy cunt, drooling with a mixture of your cum and his own. glossy strings of white leak from your hole, sticking to your thighs every time you jerk away from the vibrator. “i-it’s too much.”

“oh, ‘m sorry babe,” the words roll off his tongue, each syllable oozing with faux sympathy. lucky for you, denki clicks the vibrator off and tosses it somewhere in the sheets. you don’t notice him moving to lay on his stomach, too busy trying to catch your breath. “she’s looking messy down there, hm?”

denki’s breath now fans over your wet pussy, his words low and sultry. you look over your shoulder in confusion, sweat shining on your forehead, bitten lips parting to ask a question, but he interrupts.

“i can clean her up for you.”

with that final statement, denki’s tongue presses flat against your slit and he moans, tasting the evidence of what seems to be his best porno yet. he slurps up the mess eagerly, holding you in place by your hips whenever you try to squirm away.

it’s bittersweet, slick pouring down his chin and making his skin shine while his own cum colors his lips white. you can’t do anything but whimper, looking back at him through hooded eyes that well with tears of overstimulation.

“i know, i know,” he mumbles into you when your body jolts, and you suck in a sharp breath. “i jus’ want to make sure you can’t move after this.”

a thorough pussy pounding and now this? there’s no way you’ll be able to stop shaking.

nimble fingers find your swollen clit and give it a light pinch, then gently stroke over it; he thinks the reaction it elicits from you is absolutely delicious—your expression crumbles and you rock your hips back against his face, dragging your cunt all over him.

he’s drunk on your scent and taste, taking as much of you in as he can. director yaoyorozu looks pleased as she whispers something to a member of the film crew, but you don’t even notice her through the sweltering haze of arousal. denki pushes the skirt further up your body, and the resounding sob that leaves your lips has him smiling against your cunt.

against your slit, his silky tongue paints peculiar patterns that your dizzy brain manages to register as the letters of his name. “fuck, ‘m gonna c-cum, ‘s coming—” your fingers tangle in his blonde hair, yanking him into your cunt as the high hits you, toes curling and teeth chattering together.

denki’s eyes roll back as you cum on his face, but then you’re trembling and moving away when the sensitivity finally sets in. your pussy is puffy and twitching, entirely spent for the day.

“woah,” he catches you with an arm when you drop flat on the bed, shuddering with the aftershocks of it all. “you good, baby?”

his lips press into your temple and you nod, huffing as you try to catch your breath. unconsciously, you start to cuddle into him, arms wrapping shakily around his torso.

it’s hard to remember where you are, stars swirling in your vision, but the sight of the microphone a few meters away snaps you back into professional mode. god, you haven’t been this dazed since your early days at shiketsu, where you’d been booking with some of the biggest men at the studio.

“i-i wish i didn’t have to, but,” you huff quietly, slowly raising from the bed to smooth out your dress and then look for your panties. you make a big show of bending over, giving the camera a great view of your quivering, dripping cunt. you swipe the underwear from the carpet with a relieved sigh, turning to face denki, who’s nibbling at his lower lip, already hard again. “i’m not finished cleaning the house yet. maybe i can make you some lunch later, when i’m done?”

the cheeky suggestion has an unintentional effect, denki’s cheeks darkening perfectly for the scene. he nods slowly, caught in a stupor. you blow a kiss toward him, stepping through the fake doorway and off the set.

after a beat of silence, director yaoyorozu calls for a cut. she hops off her tall chair and claps excitedly, while crew members rush to strip the bed and clean up the set. on jelly-like legs, you wobble over to her, standing beside denki with a small smile.

“excellent, the two of you,” she praises, ponytail swishing as she nods. “i’ll update both of your agents once we get this to the editors. hehe, my intuition tells me this’ll do very well.”

you thank her together, before parting your separate ways toward the dressing areas—at least you try to, but denki trails behind you quietly, cheeks still blazing pink.

“kaminari, is everything alright?” you step behind the shoji screen, the makeshift dressing room. without needing to be asked, his fingers find the zipper at your back and he loosens the maid dress for you.

“denki,” he corrects you with an embarrassed laugh, leaning his body against the shoji in an attempt to come across as relaxed. “i wanted to ask you about—”

the shoji screen topples over the moment his weight rests against it, smashing to the floor with a loud bang! you shriek, gathering the dress up around your chest as your co-star rushes to pick it up before anyone can look over. he is unsuccessful, much to your chagrin.

“oh my fucking—i’m so sorry, shit.”

“what is it you wanted to ask, denki?” you ask, embarrassed. it’s like you’re back to square one again, as if you weren’t just doing the nastiest things together less than ten minutes ago. he throws a hand behind his neck, awkwardly scratching the skin as he tries to calm his nerves.

“okay, look. me and a few friends of mine—UA stars—” he adds in that bit in case you need some extra convincing, “are hosting a little get together. i’m thinking maybe you can come and hang out for a little while? i can pick you up, if you—”

“that’s very nice of you.”

the interruption makes his heart drop straight into his ass, and he immediately looks down at his bare feet. but then you speak up, and he feels a spark of hope in his chest. after all, he did promise his friends that he’d introduce you to them.

“i live nearby, i moved apartments to be closer to the studio,” you admit, fingers loosening on the dress. “what time is it? i’d be willing to meet some other stars, get acquainted with everyone.”

denki looks at you, joy written all over his face. he flashes you a bright smile, nodding as he collects his thoughts. “everything starts at eight. i can just pick you up, ‘kay? here, i’ve gotta give you my number.”

you laugh, pushing him back. “i’ve gotta change first, the dress is really itchy. we’ll work it out when i’m done, sound good?”

he steps out from behind the shoji screen after nodding, gold eyes shining. before he can walk away toward his own makeshift dressing room, you stop him, smiling in a way that makes his heart flutter in his chest.

“hey, denki? by the way, i’m really looking forward to tonight.”

[piastrisun]

front page flirt.

pairings: franco colapinto + (journalist) fem character.

summary: the usual charm of franco don’t sway elaine, but he knows he’s found his match—and he’s not giving up until he has her.

genre: fluff.⠀word count: 5.9k.⠀ warning: none.

notes: named female character. inspired by andrew and amelia, so this is a long one. i plan on making an smau about this as well.

elaine bennett is known for her sharp instincts and unflinching professionalism as one of the most respected journalists in sports media. she's navigated countless interviews, handled high-profile personalities, and mastered the art of staying calm under pressure. she is, also, widely admired in the paddock, for the genuine warmth she brings to every interaction. drivers, team principals, and staff alike have nothing but respect for her, drawn to her quick humor and deep knowledge of the sport.

but from the moment she meets franco colapinto, the effortlessly charming and notoriously flirtatious driver, she knows he’s going to be different.

he has a reputation: the charming, sharp-witted rookie who seems as at ease with a microphone in his face as he is on the field; he’s the kind of guy who never misses a chance to crack a joke or toss a playful compliment. for him, every interaction is part of the performance, and his banter with the press has become almost as famous as his achievements on the field, he’s quickly become a fan favorite both on and off the track. when he first meets with elaine, he's prepared for the usual routine of deflecting flirtation and steering the conversation back on track. but he knows she’s going to be different.

SCENE #1.

the paddock buzzes with activity as elaine step into view, her camera crew following closely behind, already recording. her warm smile, the one that wins over every driver, spreads across her face as she approaches him. she scans the crowd, but her eyes settle on franco, who’s leaning casually against the barrier, chatting with another reporter. he notices her immediately, straightening up a little, though trying to play it cool. there’s a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes, flashing a wide grin her way, the kind that’s just a little too charming, already anticipating the conversation.

she walks toward him after the reporter leaves, maintaining her serious expression despite the playful energy bubbling beneath the surface. “i’ve been trying to get an interview with you for a while now,” she says, her voice steady but teasing. there’s a glint in her eyes, but she holds back her smile, keeping things professional—at least for the camera.

“really?” franco’s voice is smooth, but his body language says more than his words. he shifts his weight, standing a little closer to her, his arm casually brushing against hers. he tilts his head, letting his gaze linger on her, his eyes scanning her face as if he’s trying to read her thoughts.

“yeah,” she nods, keeping a straight face, though there’s a lightness in her tone. “but you know, you were playing hard to get.”

franco smirks, stepping even closer, his body leaning in, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “me? i’d never play hard to get with you.” his voice drops just enough to make the words sound like a promise. his hand hovers near her arm, not quite touching but close enough that she can feel the warmth radiating from him. he’s using the excuse of the interview to close the gap, and she notices it.

“of course you’d say that.” her voice remains calm, unwavering, but inside, she feels the tension building. his presence is undeniable, but she’s determined to keep up the professional front, even though it’s becoming harder to ignore the way he’s leaning in, the way his eyes flicker from her face to the camera and back again, like he’s fully aware of the audience watching.

franco, still grinning, takes a small step back but only to tilt his head again, eyeing her playfully. “why? i’m being honest here,” he says, shrugging as if he’s confessing something. “i’ve been waiting for you to come over. every time i’m looking out for you, you’re always busy interviewing someone else.” his voice has dropped to a playful whisper now, but loud enough for the camera team to catch, as if he’s letting the viewers in on an inside joke. his fingers graze her chin, a small, thoughtful gesture, but she can tell he’s watching her closely, waiting for her reaction.

she fights the urge to smile, keeping her expression neutral. “that’s how jobs work, franco. you know that.” her voice is light, but her eyes remain locked on his, daring him to push further.

he laughs, his body language loose, but she can sense the focus in the way he’s standing—completely tuned in to her. “you sure it’s just the job, or are you just trying to keep me waiting?” he winks, and for a moment, the playful flirtation between them seems almost palpable.

she raises an eyebrow, her lips pressed together in an amused but serious line, refusing to let him get the upper hand. the camera crew captures everything, but it feels like the world has shrunk down to just the two of them in that moment. there's a lightness in between, the flirtation woven through her words, but beneath it, a genuine connection. the atmosphere around them fades into the background, both caught in this playful back-and-forth, completely at ease despite the cameras rolling.

franco watches her closely, clearly amused by her refusal to break character, but he’s not backing down either. he takes a step to the side, casually leaning against the railing, his body angled towards her, arms folding across his chest in a way that draws attention to his relaxed confidence.

“keep you waiting?” she tilts her head slightly, her tone dry, but the teasing in her eyes gives it away. “you think i’ve got time to keep anyone waiting?”

franco laughs softly, his eyes never leaving hers. he’s fully aware of the camera team recording every word, but he seems to enjoy the game more with the audience. “you’re right,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “i’m the one waiting, not you.” he shifts his weight again, this time leaning just a little closer, his arm brushing against hers again—but this time, it feels more deliberate. “i guess i just like waiting for you.” the words are casual, but the way he says them, with that small, knowing smile, feels like a challenge.

she keeps her expression neutral, but the playful tension is unmistakable now. “is that so?” she asks, raising an eyebrow as she finally meets his gaze head-on. she can feel the camera crew just behind her, recording the whole exchange.

he shrugs, letting his eyes drift slowly down to the microphone in your hand before returning to her face. “you’ve got my attention now,” he says, voice softer, almost as if the cameras aren’t there. “what’s next?”

she pauses for a moment, pretending to think, then finally cracks the smallest smile, enough to show him that he hasn’t completely worn her down yet. “what’s next?” she echoes, leaning in just slightly. “the interview, obviously. try to keep up, franco.”

he chuckles again, raising his hands in mock surrender, but his grin doesn’t fade. “alright, alright,” he says, the playful glint in his eyes growing stronger. “but i’ve got to say, i think i’d prefer it if you just kept me waiting a little longer.”

she shakes her head, amused, and lifts her microphone again. “i’m sure you do,” she replies, still professional, but now with a smirk just barely tugging at her lips. the camera crew catches the moment, and she can already imagine the headlines—viewers love this kind of banter.

he shifts closer one last time, just enough to make it clear he’s still playing this game with her. “you know, if you ever get tired of interviews… we could always talk off the record.”

she gives him a long look, narrowing her eyes slightly as she raises the microphone to his face, her voice cool and composed. “let’s start with on the record, shall we?”

he laughs, a warm, genuine sound, but she can see the spark in his eyes that says he’s far from done. the camera crew continues filming, but in this moment, it’s all just part of the fun. the interview has begun, but the real game is still unfolding.

SCENE #2.

the second interview starts as elaine spots franco in the paddock again, and this time, there’s a different energy between them—something more familiar, more playful, after your first meeting. the camera crew is behind her once more, recording everything, but she has learned by now that franco loves the game, and today is no different.

she approaches him with her usual confident stride, the microphone ready, her serious face firmly in place, even though she can feel the anticipation.

“franco,” she greets him, keeping her voice smooth and professional.

“elaine, hi.” he responds, his smile instant, the warmth in his voice impossible to miss. there’s something about the way he says her name, as if he’s been waiting for this moment again.

she glances at him, arching an eyebrow slightly. “we’re meeting each other again,” she says, her tone light but teasing. “finally, dare i say.”

franco laughs softly, taking a step closer, his posture relaxed as always, but there’s a spark in his eyes as he responds, “i only ever want to see you in moments like this.”

“oh!” she’s taken off guard for a second but recovers quickly, maintaining her serious face.

he shrugs, his voice casual but carrying that familiar flirtatious undertone. “can’t you blame me? you’re one of a kind.”

her lips quirk slightly, but she doesn’t give in. “really? what about other kinds of situations?” she asks, tilting her head just a little, challenging him as she always does, the camera capturing the subtle tension.

franco’s eyes gleam, and he leans in, lowering his voice enough that it feels like the conversation is just between them—even with the crew around. “now you’re open to that?”

she holds his gaze, unfazed, the seriousness never leaving her expression. “i didn’t say that,” she replies, her voice even, but there’s a hint of curiosity beneath it. “i’m just wondering.”

the air between you shifts once more, charged with the same playful tension from the last encounter. franco chuckles softly, but this time, he doesn’t press further. she can tell he’s enjoying the back-and-forth just as much as she is. the cameras are rolling, but once again, it feels like the world has shrunk down, playing your game in the midst of the media frenzy.

franco’s smile deepens as her words hang in the air, and he steps just a little closer, still careful to keep it subtle for the cameras but enough for her to feel the shift in his energy. his eyes linger on hers, playful but with a new intensity.

“i think you’re doing more than just wondering,” he says, voice dropping lower, his tone teasing but with an edge that makes the moment feel more personal.

she doesn’t flinch, keeping her professional demeanor intact, though inside, she feels the tension growing. “that’s your interpretation,” she responds, her voice smooth and steady. “but we both know how interviews work, right?”

franco tilts his head, his gaze sweeping over her, amused. “is that what we’re calling this?” he laughs lightly, the sound warm, but his eyes remain locked on hers. “because this feels like something else.”

she raises an eyebrow, keeping her cool as she tilts the microphone slightly toward him. “oh? you think this is something more?”

he shrugs, his grin never faltering, but there’s something more deliberate in the way he leans in just a little further. as he speaks, his hand casually reaches out, his fingers wrapping around the microphone she’s holding, his touch firm yet playful. he doesn’t take it from her, but the gesture makes her heart skip for a moment. “let’s just say,” he murmurs, his voice low, “i don’t get this kind of vibe with anyone else.”

her finally allows herself a small smile, just enough to acknowledge his playful attempt. her grip on the microphone tightens just slightly. “vibe?” she echoes, pretending to mull over the word. “well, if that’s what you’re picking up, i must be doing my job right.”

franco chuckles again, but she sees in his eyes that he’s still not letting go of the game. “you’re good at your job, elaine,” he admits, a bit more seriously now, though his playful tone lingers. “but i’m not sure that’s what i mean.”

she narrows her eyes slightly, pretending to consider his words. “well, i’m not here to interpret feelings, franco,” she replies, her voice still measured, professional. “i’m here to ask the real questions.”

he smirks, clearly enjoying the banter. “okay then, ask away,” he says, spreading his arms slightly, as if welcoming whatever she’s about to throw his way. “hit me with your best shot.”

she pauses for a beat, still holding his gaze, the challenge hanging between them. “how about this?” she says, lowering her voice just a touch. “what’s it like knowing you’re the driver everyone’s watching this season after your unexpected jump to f1?”

he leans back slightly, his expression shifting as he switches to the more serious part of the interview, though she can still see that playful glint in his eyes. “it’s exciting,” he admits, finally breaking eye contact as he glances off to the side, his tone more thoughtful now. “a little nerve-wracking, too, if i’m being honest. but i’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life, so i’m ready for it.”

she nods, letting him speak as her camera crew captures his words, but even as the conversation turns more professional, she notices the underlying tension. it’s like the game never really stopped—it’s just paused for now.

“do you feel the pressure?” she asks, keeping her tone level but letting a hint of curiosity slip through. “knowing that so many eyes are on you?”

franco meets her gaze again, his expression softening slightly. “yeah, i feel it,” he admits. “but i think that’s part of what makes it fun. the pressure pushes you to be better. and… i’ve got good people around me.” his eyes flicker toward her for just a second, and she doesn’t miss the way his words seem to hold a double meaning.

she maintains her professional surface, but inside, the familiar game is still alive. “good people, huh?” she says, her voice steady. “that’s important.”

he nods, his smile returning, but there’s something softer behind it now. “yeah,” he says, his tone quieter but still light. “it makes all the difference.”

she holds his gaze for a moment longer before glancing down at her notes, signaling that the playful banter is over—at least for now. “well,” she says, shifting back into reporter mode, “i think that’s a wrap for today.”

franco’s grin widens, and as she lowers the microphone, he steps closer again, just for a moment, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “i’m already looking forward to our next interview, elaine.”

her smile—this time fully—allowing him that little victory. “i’m sure you are,” she says softly, before turning back to her camera crew.

SCENE #3.

elaine meets franco for another interview during a casual media day. it’s quieter than usual, with fewer cameras and press around, giving everything a more relaxed vibe. she sets up her microphone, preparing to ask him a standard question about his preparations for the upcoming race.

“franco,” she starts, flashing her usual friendly smile, “how are you feeling about this weekend? any special strategies for the race?”

but instead of answering her question seriously, franco leans back in his seat, a playful smirk curling at the edge of his lips. he doesn’t bother with the usual racing talk. “you know, i’ve been preparing for this moment—seeing you again,” he says, his voice smooth and teasing.

her laugh comes out naturally, caught off guard by the shift in conversation. she tries to stay composed, shaking her head slightly, but the comment lingers in the air between them. “franco, we’re supposed to be talking about racing,” she replies, though there’s a hint of amusement in her voice. she’s used to his charm by now, but today it feels different, bolder.

franco, far from backing down, leans in a little closer, his gaze holding hers with a new intensity. “what? you’re the one who keeps finding reasons to talk to me,” he says, his tone lighter but insistent. “i think we’re overdue.”

she raises an eyebrow, trying to keep the conversation on track, but her pulse quickens at the way he’s looking at her. his usual playfulness feels more deliberate, the line between professionalism and personal interest blurring.

“overdue for what, exactly?” she counters, her voice calm, but her heart isn’t. she’s not giving him an easy out, and she knows he’s testing her. he chuckles, clearly enjoying the banter.

“a real conversation, no microphones, no cameras,” he clarifies, his voice dropping slightly as if it’s just the two of them in the room. he’s serious, and she can feel it. his eyes haven’t left hers since the conversation started, and suddenly, the interview feels less like work and more like something else entirely.

elaine shifts, gripping the microphone a little tighter, trying to brush it off with another laugh. “is that your new strategy? charm your way through the season?”

he leans back, arms crossed, his grin unfaltering. “hey, i’m just playing to my strengths.” he flashes her a wink, making it clear he’s not just talking about his racing skills.

elaine glances at her camera team briefly, aware of the recording, but her mind’s already distracted by the shift in their dynamic. she takes a steady breath, maintaining her professional stance, but deep down, she knows franco has her cornered in a way she didn’t expect.

SCENE #4.

elaine steps into the interview space, all set to keep things professional as always, but there’s something different about franco today. his posture is more relaxed, leaning casually against a wall, and as she approaches, his eyes light up with that same familiar mischief, though now it feels heavier with intention. she notices the subtle change; the playful flirtation he once scattered freely with other journalists has all but vanished. by now, she’s the only one he reserves it for, and the realisation makes her heart skip a beat.

before she can even get her opening question out, franco interrupts, not missing a beat as he says, “you look gorgeous today, by the way. but then again, you always do.”

elaine is momentarily thrown off, her grip tightening slightly on the microphone as she processes his words. but her professionalism kicks in, and she brushes it off with a small laugh, her expression staying composed. “thank you, franco,” she replies, her tone polite but distant, trying to keep things on track.

he doesn’t let it go. he leans in just enough for their arms to brush, his smirk deepening as he adds, “i’m serious, elaine. it’s getting hard to focus on anything else when you’re around.”

her heart skips a beat, and she feels the warmth of his proximity, but she stays cool under pressure. she knows he’s trying to get a reaction, but she won’t give him the satisfaction that easily. raising an eyebrow, she tilts her head slightly, her voice smooth and teasing, “really?”

he chuckles, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth, his eyes locked on hers as if there’s no one else in the room. “let’s just say that doesn’t happen often with anyone else,” he replies, his voice dropping lower, as though they’re the only ones in on this private conversation.

her pulse quickens despite herself. the camera crew behind her is still rolling, and she knows every second of this will be captured, but franco doesn’t seem to care. there’s a daring edge to him today, a boldness that’s pushing the boundaries of their usual exchanges.

she takes a steadying breath, maintaining her professional demeanor, but there’s no denying the tension between them. “looks aside,” she starts, her voice firm but softening at the edges, “i’m here to talk about your race, not to boost your ego.”

franco grins wider, clearly not deterred. his hand briefly brushes against her arm again as he leans closer, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “who says you can’t do both?”

elaine huffs a small laugh, shaking her head as she refocuses on the microphone. “let’s keep this professional, franco.”

“sure,” he says, though his eyes tell a different story. the playfulness lingers in the air between them, and though she tries to push through the rest of the interview, there’s an unspoken tension that neither can quite ignore.

SCENE #5.

as the interview begins, franco leans against the wall, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as she approaches. her camera team sets up nearby, but this time the atmosphere feels more relaxed, less formal, as if the race weekend has left everyone in a calmer mood.

she asks the first question about his performance, her tone professional, but with that familiar playful edge that always seems to bring out franco’s charm. he smiles through her questions, barely paying attention to the words. when she finishes, microphone in hand, he reaches out, gently taking hold of the microphone as if to steady it, but instead of letting go, he keeps his fingers wrapped around hers.

“there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask you,” franco says, his voice low, eyes locked on hers.

she blinks, slightly thrown by the sudden shift in tone. “oh? about the race?” she asks, her professional mask slipping just a little as she looks up at him.

he grins, shaking his head. “no,” he replies, his grip still firm on the microphone. “something a little more personal.”

she raises an eyebrow, trying to maintain her composure, though she’s acutely aware of how close he is now, the warmth of his hand next to hers. “go on,” she says, her voice steady despite the tension.

he leans in just a little closer, his grin turning playful but his tone serious. “when are we going to stop pretending these interviews are just about racing?”

she feels a flutter in her chest, but she quickly regains her footing, narrowing her eyes slightly as she tries to maintain the upper hand. “is that what you think we’re doing?”

he chuckles softly, his hand lingering on the microphone for a beat longer before pulling back slightly, though the space between them is still minimal. “i’m just saying… i think we’ve had enough interviews to cover racing. maybe it’s time we talk about something else. maybe somewhere quieter.”

her breath hitches, but she keeps her expression composed, giving him a small, teasing smile. “you have something in mind?”

franco’s gaze holds hers, his smile widening as he steps back just a fraction, giving her space but not letting go of the playful tension. “i do,” he says simply, “but it’s not really something we can talk about on camera, is it?”

her heart skips a beat, but she doesn’t let him see that. instead, she tilts her head slightly, amused. “i think you’re getting ahead of yourself.”

he shrugs, his confidence unwavering. “maybe. or maybe i’m just catching up to what we’ve both been thinking.”

she pauses, the weight of his words settling between them, but before she can respond, the camera team signals that they’re ready to wrap up. franco flashes them a grin, his usual media charm slipping back into place as he steps away, but there’s something unmistakably different in the way he looks at her now—something that lingers long after the interview ends.

SCENE #6.

as the sixth interview begins, there’s an unmistakable tension in the air. the setting feels quieter than usual, tucked away in a calmer part of the paddock. the hum of activity continues in the background, but here, it’s just franco, elaine, and her camera crew. the atmosphere feels more intimate, almost as if it’s just the two of them despite the cameras rolling. franco stands close to her, his energy brimming with the confidence he’s earned after a successful weekend. there’s something about the way he’s standing tells her he’s ready to push the boundaries further this time.

as elaine begins the interview, franco listens with a half-smile, his gaze never straying from her face. he answers her first few questions with his usual charm, but there’s a noticeable shift as the interview starts to wind down. instead of letting her wrap things up, he steps forward and takes hold of the microphone, stopping her in her tracks. his fingers brush against hers, and his smile widens as he keeps a playful grip on the mic.

“one last question before we finish up, elaine,” he says, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes are filled with a mischievous gleam. he doesn’t wait for her to respond, his gaze fixed intently on her, making sure she’s paying full attention. “when are you going to let me take you out?”

she blinks, momentarily caught off guard by the directness of his question. the cameras are still rolling, and she knows her crew is watching. her professional mask stays firmly in place, but there’s a flicker of surprise in her eyes as she glances at him, not sure whether to laugh or call his bluff.

franco doesn’t back down. if anything, her silence only fuels his confidence. he leans in just a little closer, his voice dropping to a more private tone. “i mean, we’ve done enough interviews by now, haven’t we?” his fingers remain on the microphone, his touch lingering. “don’t you think it’s about time we see each other outside of work?”

she tilts her head, her lips parting as she considers how to respond. she knows franco has been flirty before, but this—this is different. this is more direct, and he’s not hiding behind playful banter this time. there’s no subtlety, no room for her to misinterpret his intentions. she could brush him off with a witty remark, like she usually does, but the way he’s looking at her—so certain, so bold—makes her pause.

her camera crew stays silent behind her, but she can feel their eyes on the two of them. still, it’s as if the rest of the world has melted away, leaving only them in this charged, electric moment.

“i see,” she says finally, her voice steady though her heart races. “so this is your big question? the one you’ve been waiting to ask?”

his grin widens, and he nods, not even pretending to be bashful. “it’s the only one that matters, really.” his hand drops from the microphone, but he doesn’t step back. he holds her gaze, waiting for her response, as if daring her to either accept his offer or shut him down.

she takes a breath, then exhales slowly, her eyes narrowing playfully. “well,” she says, her tone light but with an undercurrent of something more, “i suppose i could consider it… if you can survive another interview.”

franco chuckles, the sound deep and rich as he leans back slightly, still keeping that air of confidence. “oh, i’ll survive,” he says, flashing her one last grin. “but i’d much rather we skip to the part where i get to take you out.”

the tension lingers as the interview ends, the flirty exchange hanging in the air long after the cameras stop rolling. elaine may still be in control, but franco has made his intentions clear—this wasn’t just another interview. and judging by the way her eyes linger on him, there’s a part of her that doesn’t want to brush him off so easily this time.

SCENE #7.

the interview begins like any other. elaine approaches franco with her usual composure, ready to dive into another conversation about the upcoming race. but today, there’s a subtle tension in the air, something unspoken lingering between them from their previous encounters.

as she greets him, microphone in hand, franco’s eyes immediately lock on hers, that playful glint back in full force. “elaine,” he says smoothly, “i was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

she smirks, raising an eyebrow. “avoiding you? you’re impossible to avoid.”

franco laughs softly, his gaze never leaving her. “and yet, you manage to always keep your distance.” there’s a teasing edge to his words, but something else too, something more serious.

she moves to start the interview, but franco takes a step closer, his hand casually reaching out to brush against hers. the touch is brief at first, but enough to make her pause. she glances down at their hands, a slight flutter in her chest, but she tries to maintain her professionalism, focusing on the task at hand.

“so, franco,” she starts, trying to regain control of the situation, “how are you feeling about this race? confident, as always?”

he doesn’t answer immediately. instead, his fingers lightly graze hers again, this time more intentional. before she knows it, he’s gently holding her hand, not forcefully, but enough to make her heart skip. her breath hitches for a second, and she glances up at him, but he’s already watching her with a grin that’s both charming and undeniably bold.

“you know, i could talk about the race,” franco says softly, his voice low, as if the two of them are the only people in the room. “but i think we’ve had enough of that, don’t you?”

elaine tries to pull her hand back, but he holds it for a moment longer, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but it sends a shiver down her spine. “franco,” she starts, trying to steady herself, but the teasing light in his eyes tells her he’s fully aware of what he’s doing.

he leans in slightly, closing the space between them just enough to feel his presence more than ever. “what if, just this once, we forget about the race? talk about something else... something more interesting.”

elaine’s heart is racing now, the intensity of the moment catching her off guard. she knows the camera is rolling, but for a split second, she forgets about everything else. “like what?” she asks, her voice quieter, betraying the calm exterior she’s trying to maintain.

his smirk deepens, and he gives her hand one last squeeze before finally letting go. “how about that dinner we’ve been talking about? you can’t say no forever, elaine.”

she blinks, regaining her composure, and steps back just enough to create some distance, though her heart is still racing from the brief but electric contact. “we’ll see about that,” she replies, her voice stronger now, though there’s a lingering warmth where his hand had been.

franco grins, clearly satisfied with the effect he’s had on her. “i’ll take that as a ‘maybe.’”

the interview resumes, but neither of them can ignore the unspoken tension that now sits between them, even as the cameras roll and the questions continue.

FINAL SCENE.

from the moment the cameras roll, it’s clear that today, franco isn't holding back. his confidence is palpable, his eyes locked on hers as if the world outside the interview doesn’t exist.

“you know, we’ve danced around this long enough,” franco says, his tone playful yet sincere, the easy smile on his face revealing a deeper intent.

“danced around what exactly?” her tone is playful, but she knows exactly where this is going.

franco’s smile is different today—there’s no teasing, just an open honesty in the way he speaks. “when are you going to stop dodging my dinner invitations? you said one more interview and you’ll let me take you out and it’s been two already.”

elaine raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “is this your way of trying to get an exclusive or something?”

franco chuckles softly, leaning in just a bit closer, his confidence radiating from him. “no, i’m serious. i’ve asked enough times, and you’ve given me the runaround. it’s time for a real dinner, just the two of us, no cameras.”

elaine laughs lightly, but there’s a spark of intrigue in her gaze. “and what makes you think i’d say yes now?”

franco steps a little closer, the warmth of his presence wrapping around her. “maybe because you’ve enjoyed our conversations just as much as i have. eight interviews later, don’t you think it’s time we had one without the cameras?”

she pauses, letting his words hang in the air for a moment, the tension palpable. finally, a smile breaks through. “alright, franco. dinner it is. but don’t think this means you’re off the hook for next season.”

his grin widens, genuine delight lighting up his face. “i’ll take what i can get. dinner it is.”

once the cameras shut off, the atmosphere shifts. franco doesn’t move away from her side. the energy is different now—calmer, more intimate. he’s always had a playful, cocky edge, but today there’s something deeper in the way he looks at her. he hands off the microphone to a crew member, his arm brushing against hers, sending a thrill through her.

elaine lowers the microphone, her professional demeanor softening. she’s always been careful to keep their interactions light and work-related, but tonight feels different, like a turning point.

“i never thought you’d actually accept,” franco says quietly, his gaze steady on hers, a hint of vulnerability beneath his usual charm.

elaine meets his gaze, feeling her guard beginning to lower. “what can i say? i’m full of surprises.”

as they stroll side by side, the conversation shifts. they talk about their careers, the crazy schedules that keep them both moving from one city to another, and how their paths keep crossing in the most unexpected ways. franco is more relaxed now, no longer the charming rookie trying to win her over, but just himself. elaine listens, her guard slipping down more with every word.

at one point, he gently reaches for her hand, testing the waters as his fingers brush against hers. she pauses for a brief second, her heart skipping a beat as she feels a rush of warmth at the contact. surprised but pleased, she lets him touch her.

“you know,” he says softly, glancing at her with a mix of seriousness and mischief, “i’ve been waiting for you to say yes for a long time, you know.”

she squeezes his hand lightly, a smile tugging at her lips. “maybe i was just waiting for the right moment.”

franco’s expression brightens, a spark of hope igniting in his eyes. “and what about now? do you think this is the right moment?”

elaine feels her heart flutter at the sincerity in his gaze. the playful teasing from their earlier interviews has melted into something deeper, something she has been longing for but hesitated to acknowledge. “i think it could be,” she replies, her voice softening.

he steps even closer, the warmth of his body radiating against hers. “good. because i can’t be any more obvious than i already am.”

elaine tilts her head, teasingly raising an eyebrow. “obvious? maybe you were just being charming—it’s hard to tell sometimes.”

his grin broadens, and he takes a small step closer, the air thick with unspoken tension. “charming, huh? i guess i’ll have to keep it up then.”

“don’t get too cocky,” she warns playfully, her heart racing at the way he leans in just a bit more. “i might change my mind.”

“not a chance,” he replies, his voice low and confident. “i’m determined now. i’ll make you see how good we could be together. you and me—it’s worth pursuing.”

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 24’.

[syluslnd]

Hello ! May I request some angst 🥹 You and Sylus are fwb but you love him and later you catch sylus and mc having sex and you leave and he regrets it? Whether they get together or not up to you !

tags-angst no comfort,sylus pov,implied suicide

word count 1.8k

(note-if I went a little off script and you want me to rewrite pls lmk anon,when I get the creative freedom of an ending I always get so excited lol!🥹)

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You’d spent weeks trying to gather the courage to finally tell Sylus how you felt. What started as a casual arrangement had turned into something far more intense for you, with every moment, every stolen glance and every word he spoke weaving tighter knots around your heart. Tonight was the night you planned to tell him everything, to lay it all out and see if he felt even a fraction of the same.

You rehearsed the words over and over in your head on the way to his office, holding onto a shaky hope that maybe he, too, had noticed the subtle shift between you. As you walked down the corridor, anticipation and anxiety blurred together, making your pulse quicken with every step.

But when you finally arrived and opened the door to his office, everything you’d imagined, everything you’d hoped, shattered in an instant.

Sylus was there but he wasn’t alone.

The scene before you was like a punch to the gut, one that left you breathless and frozen. He was with the very woman he’d once told you not to worry about, the so-called “hunter girl” and they were wrapped up in each other, utterly absorbed, not even registering your presence. It wasn’t the fact of him being with someone else that hurt—it was that he was with her, here, in a place that had once felt like it was partly yours, and he didn’t even look at you.

A cold wave of realization washed over you, tinged with humiliation and pain. You’d come here with a heart full of hope and he hadn’t even noticed.

When Sylus finally glanced your way, there was no apology in his eyes, no explanation, not even the courtesy of a break in his actions. He looked at you almost dismissively, a fleeting glance, as if you were nothing more than an inconvenience and then, with a coldness you never thought you’d see, he turned his attention back to her, ignoring you completely.

In that moment, you felt something break inside of you, a part of yourself you couldn’t repair. A thousand emotions flooded through you—anger, sadness, shame. The weight of unspoken words, of all the feelings you’d held back, now felt like a burden you could barely carry.

Stumbling backward, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The realization that you meant so little to him, that he could simply disregard you like this, was a hurt that went deeper than words could express and as you left, the door closing softly behind you, you promised yourself you’d never let anyone make you feel this small, this inconsequential, again.

Sylus hadn’t planned for it to be this way. A part of him knew he was treading on dangerous ground the moment he let things go this far with the hunter girl, a lingering decision he could already feel weighing on his conscience. But he had convinced himself it was fine, that it didn’t mean anything—and most importantly, that you’d never find out.

But when he glanced up and saw you standing there, his heart sank.

The shock on your face, the confusion—it struck him in a way he wasn’t prepared for. He cursed internally. Of all days, why did it have to be today? Why did you have to see him like this, at his worst? A flicker of regret crossed his mind as he realized the full extent of what this would do to you. He could tell, even from a distance, that your heart was breaking in real-time.

For a split second, he wanted to call out, to explain, to reach for you. But guilt held him back, keeping him rooted in place. He’d never seen you look so vulnerable, so defeated and in his mind, he could already feel the words he’d rehearsed to you, the subtle hints he’d dropped over time—words that, he now realized, had only served to deepen your trust in him. That trust, something he had taken for granted, was slipping through his fingers.

When he looked away to continue the kiss and passion with that hunter woman, it wasn’t because he didn’t care; it was because he couldn’t bear to look at the pain in your eyes,he knew no matter what in this very moment he couldn’t possibly have the correct words to say.

It’s been a day since you’d walked in on him and yet, the scene keeps replaying haunting your mind. You hadn’t meant to purposely walk into his office unannounced; you’d only come by to tell him the truth—that maybe, just maybe, what you felt for him wasn’t so casual anymore. But the second you opened that door and saw him tangled with her, every thought, every word you had planned to say, fell silent.

The memory of it echoes in you. His indifference, the way he’d looked away when he finally noticed you standing there, stunned. He didn’t say a word, didn’t reach out. It was as if you were invisible.

You’d always told yourself you could handle this. You’d always told yourself that this was just a fling, something fleeting. But here you were, alone in your apartment, the reality settling in like a weight in your chest. You’d lost something in that room—something you’d never get back.

It feels like a betrayal, not just from him but from yourself. You’d let him into places in your heart that you’d sworn would stay locked. You’d shared things, vulnerable moments, pieces of yourself that you couldn’t take back. You’d given him everything—everything that mattered.

A soft, cold wind moves through the open window as you sit there, tears slipping down your cheeks. The city lights blur outside and somewhere in the haze of pain, you make a promise to yourself: no one would ever make you feel this small, this broken, again.

You reach for a pen, feeling the sharp tip against your skin as you press down, writing a reminder on your wrist. It’s a small vow but it feels like a lifeline. No one else will ever be given the power to hurt you this way. Not again. You’ll keep that vow to yourself, protecting your heart from the world outside.

The pen trembles slightly in your hand, heavier than it has ever felt before. But this is no ordinary pen; it's a relic of quiet promises and unspoken pains. Not just a tool for writing, it becomes an instrument, a bridge between the ache in your chest and the words you're too afraid to say out loud.

As you press it against your wrist, it's as if you're pouring everything unsaid into that red ink. The curve of each letter, the way it bites into your skin-it's a reminder, a vow you're making to yourself, a way to draw strength from this hurt. It's not just ink staining your skin; it's the permanence of a promise to guard what's left of your heart, a declaration that no one will be allowed to leave marks on your soul again.

The act is delicate yet deliberate, like the slow drag of the pen is creating a map of the pain you've endured, and perhaps the resilience that will follow. You feel the chill of the ink settling on your skin, mingling with the warmth of your blood beneath and the pain sharpens into clarity.

For the first time, in this quiet moment, you realize that the pen has become more than just a promise,It's a knife full of promises sinking into your skin;you’ll never hurt get hurt again from this world that once took so much without asking.

Sylus stares at his phone, frustration gnawing at him as he watches the screen flash with another unanswered call. He’s tried five times already but each time, the phone rings and rings, only to be met with silence. His fingers hover over the screen, ready to dial again, but his hesitation claws at him.

The image of your face keeps flashing in his mind. The look of shock, the raw pain in your eyes—it’s all he can see. It’s like a punch to the gut, one he can’t escape. He’s always been able to maintain control, to keep things casual but in that moment, when he saw the hurt in your eyes, the walls he’d so carefully built around his emotions shattered.

What the hell was he thinking? He thought he could keep things light, just a hook-up, no strings attached. But the guilt—God, it weighs on him like a hundred-pound anchor. He knows you never asked for anything more but the reality of how he treated you after everything—that—had started to gnaw at him. The hurt on your face, that unmistakable sting of betrayal, it’s all he can think about.

Sylus knows he’s not supposed to care. He’s supposed to be fine with this arrangement. But he’s not fine and it’s terrifying, because he’s never let anyone have that kind of effect on him before. But now, all he can feel is the burning ache in his chest, the overwhelming need to hear your voice, to apologize, to explain that he fucked up.

Why aren’t you answering?

He grits his teeth and stands up, pacing around the room, phone clutched in his hand as if it holds the key to fixing this mess.

He doesn’t know what happened. He thought he could just be selfish, just have you, keep you close in his life the way he wanted, without the mess of feelings. But you—you, with your eyes full of trust and warmth—somehow slipped past his defenses.

He needs you to hear him. He needs to tell you that he feels something more than what you agreed on. He just doesn’t know how. He’s never been one to show vulnerability, to let someone see how much they mean to him and yet, for some reason, when it comes to you, he knows he’s lying to himself.

Sighing heavily, he presses the phone to his ear again, dialing your number once more. The ringing sounds so much louder this time and with each ring, his frustration builds. Come on. Pick up. Please pick up.

But the call goes to voicemail and his shoulders slump in defeat. He leans back against the wall, staring at the phone in his hand, fingers curling around it tightly.

He can’t keep pretending this is okay. He can’t keep pretending it’s just physical. The feeling in his chest has become too strong and it’s not something he can ignore anymore.

His thumb hovers over the screen, typing a message that feels too raw, too honest to send. But he does it anyway.

“I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you. Please just pick up the phone and let me explain”

The words feel insufficient, like nothing more than a weak attempt to fix everything that’s broken. But it’s all he can offer.

He throws the phone down on the couch, pacing again, this time with a much heavier heart. It’s the first time in a long while that Sylus feels like he’s lost control of the situation. And it terrifies him.

Now, all he can do is wait.

[redvexillum]

Every page is dripping with tension—from the moment Alastor murmurs “I missed you” to the climactic, gut-wrenching moments of vulnerability. I can’t - SDAFDFKDKAM //ugly sobbing

The complexity of their situation hits hard—he didn’t force her to stay, but he did manipulate her circumstances, and the way he weaves in the truth about what’s really been going on behind the scenes… I literally cannot. The fact that Alastor subtly orchestrates things from behind the scenes—manipulating her situation to keep her close, the idea that Mimzy was in on it? Oof. This whole set-up just keeps getting darker, and it’s like a slow spiral that you can’t pull away from. Every part of this world feels more dangerous the more you uncover, and yet you can’t look away.

The ending? The way Alastor finally gets the response he’s been waiting for? Chills. The anticipation that’s been building this whole time—when the reader finally admits, “I still love you,” it’s like the air shifts. Alastor’s smile? Devastatingly perfect. It’s like the two of them are locked into this dark, inevitable fate together, and I cannot get enough of it. 😩💥

Human Alastor x ex wife reader

Where Alastor gets divorced after the reader finds out about his murders, but still can't stop coming back to him

I Still Love You

I hope you're a little satisfied with this, Anon I find it hard to write endings that aren't soft

18+ MDNI

-----------------------------------------

“I missed you.”

You stare down at the messy sheets beneath you with glazed eyes, having heard what Alastor had murmured into your ear.

You don't know what to say back (you do, you're just scared to say it out loud), but Alastor doesn't give you any more time to think about what to do next.

“H-hah! Please!”

You don't know what you're pleading for when Alastor handles you until you are on your back and he throws your legs over his broad shoulders and you can feel the burn in your muscles from the sudden stretch.

“Tell me, Darling,” Alastor strokes your cheek and you feel your eyes tear for two different reasons. He rubs his cock through your soaked folds, bumping your clit with every upward motion and you let out a mewl before you could help it, “are you happy now? Have you moved on from me?”

Why are you here?

Why did you come back?

It’s a very good question and any sane person would be asking you that if they knew the horrors that had, and likely still are, taking place in this very house and on the surrounding property.

Alastor didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed satisfied and pleased that you are back in the house you very recently used to call home (and still very much should, in his opinion) and he did not bother to conceal it.

“Happy?” You let the tears fall, from a complex blend of pleasure, heartache, longing, and love. “I was happy with you–!?”

Alastor thrusts his cock in smoothly, sighing in content at how warm you feel around him. He missed this, missed the feel of you and your body pressed against his, missed your adorable words of love, missed every little bit of this.

He had never intended for you to find out.

“H-happy with you.” You dug your nails into Alastor’s back, intending on finishing what you were saying. You threw your head back and your toes curled when Alastor slid his arm down to rub tight little circles on your clit. “B-but I… I was scared! I couldn't… liVE in a house w-where people– people were murDERED!”

You just wanted to sink into the bed and under the covers with how pitchy and breathy your tone was. Clearly, you shouldn't attempt full sentences when on the verge of an orgasm.

Alastor places his forehead against yours so you have nowhere else to look but his face. “I would never harm you, dearest. I would never hurt you.” His thrusts quicken as he searches for that spot that drives you wild. “I even granted you that… divorce.” He spat the word out like poison. “I hoped that once your head cooled, that perhaps…”

You whimpered when he flicked your clit, leaning down to nibble at your throat. “I…” You tangled your hand through Alastor’s hair, tugging lightly at the strands and causing the man to groan. “I still do…” Your voice was hoarse and your eyes rolled back when Alastor found your sweet spot and repeatedly slammed into it without mercy.

“Fuck.” Alastor could feel you fluttering around his cock and felt a bolt of heat rush through him at the sight of your debauched expression. “You still what, Darling? Tell me.”

You cried out when Alastor lifted you up by the nape of your neck, cutting off the wail of your orgasm as he frantically pressed his lips against yours, groaning at the tight clenching of your slick cunt around his cock.

“A-ah.” You let out a noise when you felt a rush of warmth and Alastor hit his own end as he let out a sigh. You swallow anxiously, but know you won't have the nerves to do this again. “I still love you, Alastor.”

Alastor’s expression softened, though he let out a chuckle. “I hoped that this was about when you showed up here. I don't believe you had any housing or money issues.”

You stared at him, suddenly feeling a little suspicious. “What do you know?”

Alastor simply raised a brow in response. “Do you believe Mimzy let you room with her out of the goodness of her heart? I know she was giving you time to ‘heal’ before putting you to work in her speakeasy, but I did slip her a few bills weekly so she wouldn't change her mind.”

You gaped at Alastor, feeling a bit stupid this went right under your nose without you noticing. Then again, entire murders had been happening and you had no idea.

“Why did you let me go?” You asked, looking away. “I knew. I knew about it. I could have gone to the police at any time and told them about you.”

Alastor looked almost thoughtful. “Did you do as I asked that night before you ran? Try to find past news articles about the ‘victims’ of the so-called Bayou Butcher?” He then shook his head. “I would never harm you.” He then repeated. “Mimzy would have informed me if you were going to the police. I would have disappeared before they could do anything.”

You nodded slowly after a moment. “They… they were all awful men. Abusers, rapists, even a few murderers.” You stared at Alastor. “Are you… specifically targeting these men?”

“Yes. You may not like to hear this, but I enjoy it. I enjoy inflicting the fear on them they have inflicted on the women in their lives. It is who I am. I love you, Darling, but this part of me will not change.”

You pick at the blanket beneath you. “And you're… certain these men are doing these awful things?”

Alastor looks at you with a cautious hope. “Yes. I make quite sure of it.” He tilts his head. “Are you…?”

“Thinking about giving us a second chance if you will have me?” You attempt to bury your face in your hands, but Alastor gently grabs your wrists before you can. You flush when he kisses each wrist and at his proceeding smile.

“It’s what I was waiting for, Darling."

[livbedum]

introducing… younger actress!reader

younger actress!reader who was a fan of obx wayyy before she got the role of belly in the summer i turned pretty and started gaining a following of her own. whenever lilah got casted , she had explained how jealous she was that lilah knew the cast and eventually the blonde offered to bring her to set some day.

younger actress!reader who ended up landing the lead role in hellraiser with drew as well. thats when they really started to get close and become good friends. she never really expected them to be anything more despite not being able to control her blushing around him. and she was never going to make the first move. she knew the age gap was a big thing to take a note of , so she never wanted to make him uncomfortable because she had some crush.

younger actress!reader who is the phrase “fake your confidence until it’s real” personified. she was always shier than most people growing up , and as an adult that hasn’t changed too much. she more sociable , but she still keeps to herself. at work , she’s open and getting along with everyone , but she loves to have time for herself. work: extroverted , confident lead role. home: introverted hermit.

younger actress!reader who is chronically online. she sees everything fans post , everything haters post. she’s also very up on trends , and she’s nice enough to post everything rather drafting or making a private account. she convinces drew and chris and the girls from both shows to partake in her tiktoks and she keeps everyone happily fed online. definitely posted a tiktok with some petty sound whenever her and drew are public and she’s getting hate. (giving liv vibes on tiktok)

younger actress!reader who would easily say madelyn is her best friend. after the two shows collided behind the scenes , you’d never catch one girl without the other. maddie was the first person she told about her and drew , first person she told about even having a crush on him. they’re two peas in a pod.

taglist @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 08/Nov/2024

This week started with Nai in hospital, so it wasn’t the greatest beginning! She is home now though, thankfully. Still on the mend but getting there.

It was also kind of a nice time too, oddly, as I got to talk with her properly, and I was talking to her about the Bobby and Douglas branch routes, and the 'lore' route. And I was getting really animated about it (as I always do when talking Wayhaven!), and it was just so awesome to not only talk about everything coming up but to just realise, even at this stage, how much I utterly love this story and characters and how excited I am for everything still to come!

But the unexpected weekend and start to the week did put things behind a bit. And then I decided to rewrite the entirety of the ending of Chapter 5. I kinda knew I was going to do it when going into editing. It just…didn’t focus on the right thing for the moment, and it was bugging me! :D

It is individual love interest scenes, something always a bit more impactful anyway, and I wanted a bit of foreshadowing of something coming up in a later book, but…it was just too much to fit in when there was already another major focus needed on this scene on something specific to this book!

So, I tried to rework them instead, but it wasn’t happening, so I pulled off the band aid quickly and just deleted it all. Oh man, it’s always so painful to get rid of thousands of words of work—and not something I do often, as I do believe what someone writes instinctually first is probably the right choice!—but sometimes it’s just got to be done.

Saying that though, I’m catching up really fast and these scenes are waaaay better! Much more concise and can put proper focus on just the one thing as well as the MC and LI’s reactions to it and the shared moment after.

I’m hoping to have these rewrites finished up by early next week, and then the final bit of editing to get this chapter done.

Chapter 4 edits are coming back to me too, so I’ll get those added in next week before moving onto the next chapter!

Hope you all have a fantastic weekend! We’ll be offline as usual, so I’ll talk to you all on Monday <3

[sunnie-angel]

A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out

Part 1: Unexpected Faces in Familiar Places

fem!jason todd x fem!reader summary: jay makes a new friend, now if only she could be something more... tags: sexual harrassment, threats of violence, idiots in love, flirting, swearing, sexual tension, semi-public sex, cunnilingus, fingering rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 4.7k a/n: enjoy! i've been having a really shitty week (even before the election) so i scrapped my original intention to only post once it was fully written and decided to just share this with you all

Jay Todd has the shittiest day to cap off the shittiest week in what feels like forever. Her ribs ache from a hit on Monday that’s still not fully right and she spent most of the day chasing down one of her accountants that had the sheer fucking nerve to try and steal from under her nose. Her knuckles are bloody, she’s on the verge of a stress headache, and all she wants is to drink her goddamn drink in peace. Apparently that’s too much to ask for because she gets a call from Cala down at one of her bars about out of towners harassing the guests and now that just won’t do at all.

Jay bursts into the bar, door hitting the wall with a crash, and oh fuck she forgot her helmet at home so she’s gonna have to do this as Jay, without the weight of the Hood’s legend behind her. Taking a deep breath she squares her shoulders and swaggers in. Zeroes in on the two chucklefucks have that cornered a poor girl sitting at the bar. Notes the way she’s hunched over and pulling down the hem of her skirt to hide her skin from lecherous eyes. Cala buzzes around the scene trying to divert their attention away from poor little miss unlucky but it doesn’t work.

“–m not alone,” Jay hears you say as she strides towards the bar. “I’m waiting on a friend.” 

“That so,” the taller of the two men leer. “Well she can just join us too. Plenty of room for more.” The shorter man makes a crude gesture at his crotch and Jay sees red.

“There you are!” She calls out, shoulders past the men without even acknowledging their presence. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was a real bitch. Did you already order our drinks yet?” You look up at Jay with gratitude and something suspiciously like tears shining in your eyes. Fuck. You’re pretty.

“No I– I didn’t know if you were planning on driving so I just waited,” you play along. 

Jay goes to take the seat next to you but shoulder slams into a body. She turns and raises a single disdainful eyebrow that she knows for a fact has made grown men cower before.

“You’re in my seat,” she says, low and bored. The man’s face starts to go a horrible shade of red that clashes terribly with his hair.

“So you think you can just butt into a private conversation, bitch?” He snarls, spittle flying.

Jay very conspicuously wipes the front of her leather jacket with a bar napkin. Looks him up and down and smirks.

“I think your conversation was over 30 seconds after you opened your mouth. I bet a lot of things are over in 30 seconds with you,” she tells him coolly.

He opens his mouth to respond, vein pulsing in his forehead but the cock of a shotgun stops him. Cala, blessed Cala, had finally had the distraction she needed to grab the shot gun from under the bar and she is using it to maximum effect.

“Out!” She thunders, waving the shotgun in the men’s faces. “Out and don’t you ever come back. This is one of the Hood’s bars, we’re under her protection and there’s gonna be hell to pay for this.”

Enraged the larger one goes to yell back but the shorter one grabs at his shoulder. Whispers at him to look around at all the hostile faces, the other regulars getting to their feet and cracking their knuckles. Tails between their legs the two nuisances scamper out.

Jay nods at Cala and she calls out “Next round’s on the house!” to the cheers of the room.

Job taken care of, Jay goes to leave when a hand around her wrist, just catching her under the hem of her jacket, freezes her in place.

“Wait!” you call. She turns to look at you properly, the wobble of your lip and the shortness of your skirt from where you’re no longer tugging it down. “Please? I just– I’m worried they’ll be waiting outside for me. I was supposed to meet a date here but they bailed on me and now I have to wait for the next bus to come. Would you stay with me for a bit? Please? I’ll– I’ll buy you a drink for the inconvenience.” And well, Jay always was a sucker for a damsel in distress.

“Sure,” she says, slinging herself lazily back into the bar chair. “It’s no inconvenience but I’ll take that drink. Whoever he is, he’s gotta be mad for standing a pretty girl like you up.”

“Oh um,” you fluster at her words. “Thanks?”

Cala sets down Jay’s usual order for when she’s driving in front of her and refills your drink. Waves off your fumbling with your wallet with a “It’s on the house, chérie. Our apology for the bad night. Besides,”  she nods at Jay “the Boss Lady would not let you pay if you tried.”

You grow more flustered at that and Jay rolls her eyes at Cala’s interfering. She lays a hand on your bare forearm to get you to stop tearing the napkin in your hands to shreds.

“You’re not in any trouble honey,” she says, voice low and soothing. “Just needed a little help, that’s all. Now my name’s Jay and I own this little establishment. Why don’t you tell me a little something about yourself too?”

You stutter and start through your own self-introduction, mascara long eyelashes fluttering at all the attention. Jay’s just so goddamned tempted to press her thumb into the hollow underneath your eyes, see if that’s enough to make the gathering tears of relief spill over. Wants to see your puffy bitten lips wrapped around her fingers rather than your straw. Getting you to talk about yourself seems to work though, familiar territory slowly evening you out. You’re surprisingly witty when you’re not flustered, someone fun to have a conversation over beer with. Time just gets away from under you two, Jay too enthralled with the way your hands move as you tell a story, you too drunk under her attention to bother looking at the time.

A stray notification catches your attention, interrupts your story about how this bar wasn’t even in your bottom five. You roll your eyes at the sender name.

“Jerry,” you answer Jay’s inquisitive look. “Apologizing for standing me up, for all the good that’ll do.” With a flourish you tap at your screen, smile and say “Blocked.”

Jay can feel the corners of her eyes crinkle up in return, simple joy and approval for you cutting the trash out of your life. Not that she’s really entitled to an opinion on it. Your smile lasts a half second longer before suddenly descending into panicking, fumbling out your phone and chanting no no no under your breath.

“I missed the last bus,” you breathe out, eyes wide. Jay’s brain stutters at that, there’s no way you’ve been talking together for four hours. Cala catches her eye and jerks her head up at the big clock hanging over the bar. Fuck. It really has been four hours.

Jay knocks back the last of her beer and stands, extends a hand out to you to help you hop off the bar stool that’s just the wrong side of too tall. Even in your heels Jay’s still got quite a few inches on you.

“C’mon,” she says. “It’s my fault you were out so late, I’ll give you a ride home.”

She leads you outside to where her bike is parked, your palm still in hers.

“I don’t have an extra helmet so you just take mine okay?” She says, putting it on you.

“We’re– we’re going on that?” you squeak out, surprise rendering you docile.

“Yep,” she answers, already straddling the bike, thighs flexing. “Hop on and hold on tight.”

Jay more feels than hears your scream as she revs the engine and takes off, corners maybe just a little too fast to be anything other than showing off. Too soon she pulls up at your front door and already she mourns the feeling of your arms wrapped around her middle. She gives you a hand to help you off the bike again and nearly buckles at the brief glimpse of the black unlined lace panties she sees under your skirt as you swing your leg over the bike. The two of you stand there facing each other, moment stretching out until a car backfires a few blocks over.

“Well, I guess I should get going, “ Jay tells you reluctantly.

“I’ve got work in the morning,” you respond, still not moving. “Wait! D’you want my number or something so we can do this again? Not the first bit obviously, but maybe drinks? Maybe coffee next time?”

And Jay, Jay doesn’t really have a phone besides a collection of burners but for you she’ll keep one on her. “Could always use another friend,” she says slowly, hands her phone over to you anyway. Grinning, you see her off into the night, taillights dissolving into darkness.

Jay calls first, asks about coffee with too much casualness in her voice. Your ensuing enthusiasm sets to right the last of her worries that you’d only offered out of obligation and she sets about monopolizing as much of your free time as she can get away with. Takes you to the movies, to museums, to lunch. Lends you her sweater, her umbrella, her helmet. Actually thinks about buying a second one with how much use you’re getting out of hers. Bitches with you about assholes at work – not that she gives you the full story – and bemoaning the state of customer affairs. Makes you dinner at her apartment and makes a spot for herself on your couch. Worms her way into every corner of your life without regret because you’d tell her if her presence was unwanted. Right?

Leave it to Jay to come back from the dead and still fall in love with a straight girl. Dick teases her about how far she’s willing to bend over backwards for ‘just a friend’ and Jay has to show her teeth and snap back that at least she has some. Has to cover up for the fact that her sanity is hanging by a goddamn thread thinner than that single string that had tied the open sides of your top together that one afternoon, revealing bare skin and the hint of a breast if you leaned just right. The way she almost walked into a wall when she realized you weren’t wearing a bra the first time she came over to your place. How she’s come with the image of your tear-stained face, fingers buried in her cunt. It’s fine! Jay’s fine. Eventually she’ll learn to stop lusting over her darling best friend who looks up at Jay with such sweet trusting eyes, unaware of what an awful lecher she is.

A gala invitation has Jay wishing she could shoot lasers with her eyes and incinerate it. Her eye twitches with annoyance and you snatch it up out of her hands before she can stop you.

“Oh what’s this, a party?” you ask, hair falling down the nape of your neck in a way that has Jay itching to brush it aside and kiss your spine.

“A stupid one,” she answers, not really paying attention.

“But you’ll have to get all dressed up for it! Please, please can I come over and watch you get ready? You never get dressed up,” you pout.

Even with your whining and pouting, Jay can’t help but think she’d still have a better time at the gala with you by her side to distract her from pointed glances and whispers. She sighs. Wait.

“There’s a plus one on that invite,” she tells you nonchalantly, studying your face in her peripheral vision. “You could come if you want, get all dressed up too.”

You stiffen at the question. “You really mean it?” you whisper, hardly daring to breathe.

“Course, but only if you want to,” she offers. You squeal, clutch the envelope to your chest and tackle her.

“It’s short so I’ll probably have to rent a dress and oooh I need to think about makeup, maybe a bold lip? Oh! And I can have another excuse to wear the Jimmy Choos...” you babble in her arms.

“You hate the Jimmy Choos,” Jay reminds you. “Always complain they pinch your feet.”

“Duh,” you tell her, pushing yourself up. “But they make my legs look like sex so I’m wearing them.” Jay has to swallow a couple of times at that, lost in the last time you’d worn them out clubbing and dragged her with you. Your legs had looked like sex, miles of long yummy skin only ending at your barely there mini dress. You prance around the room pulling down dishes for dinner and Jay sighs, melts back into the couch cushions as she listens to you chatter a mile a minute about how excited you are.

Jay’s really, really regretting her impulsivity by the time the gala rolls around a few days later. In all her excitement about not going alone for once, she’d forgotten that this meant she’d be going with you. With you, all dolled up and mouth-wateringly gorgeous.

You knock at her door earlier than she’d expected from you when a fancy event is involved and has to do her very best not to drop her jaw on the floor. Gorgeous green silk pools around your breasts in a daring cowl neck, the fabric clinging to your curves, draped to exaggerate them. Skims the plush sides of your hips before falling straight to the floor, a daring slit revealing the warm bare skin of your leg ending in those heaven sent Jimmy Choos. Jay stares, knows she stares for a beat too long but there is quite literally no force on earth that could tear her away. You start to squirm under her attention, still standing half in her doorway.

“That bad, is it?” You laugh self consciously, start to cover your cleavage with your hands. “I knew it was too much.”

“No, no it’s just enough,” she rasps, standing back to let you in. You brush past her so close she can smell your perfume, can tell you’d broken out your special occasions scent in the nice glass bottle. “I just need to fix my tie and do my hair and then we can go.”

“Do you need the tie?” You hum, stepping into her space. Grabbing a hold of one of the loose ends, you tug it out from where it’s tucked under her collar and drape it over the couch. Your fingers come to her throat and slowly undo the buttons there until only a single button or two above her waistcoat remains done up. Satisfied with your work, you spread the material flat under your palms, right over the swell of Jay’s breasts. “I think you look really nice just like this,” you confess to her.

Jay can barely breathe as she says “Fuck the tie, never liked ‘em anyway.” Your slow smile is worth it.

“Can I do your hair too?” You ask shyly.

“Don’t see why not, I was just going to do a ponytail,” Jay shrugs. Delighted you push her down onto the couch and start pulling bobby pins out of your purse. “Wait did you plan this?” She asks.

“A girl should always be prepared for the best outcome,” you tell her primly as you stand behind her and finger comb her riotous hair.

Quickly you separate out a deep side part and Jay memorizes the feeling of your hands in her hair. Hands twisting and pinning, you’re done in only a few minutes, handing her the little mirror out of your clutch to admire your work. Softly Jay touches your work, the way you’ve slicked back one side of her hair and made the waving curly mess look artistic and purposeful.

“Thank you,” she says, making eye contact with you in the mirror. She means it, means it for more than just fixing her hair but for everything else you’ve done since stumbling into her bar and her life all those months ago.

“It’s nothing,” you tell her, hands suddenly occupied with the mechanism of your purse. “We should probably get going, right?”

Jay drives the two of you to the venue in a really nice car you’ve never seen before. She waves away your questions with a tight, “My dad won’t even notice it’s missing.” She parks at the end of the red carpet and the doors haven’t even opened yet but you can already see the camera lights flashing. You look at her, suddenly nervous because you’d vastly underestimated how important this event was. She turns to you and smiles, grips your hand over the car console.

“Hey,” she says, all softness. “Just stick with me and you’ll be fine. I’ll head off the vultures, you just hold onto me and enjoy the canapes, okay?”

You nod, and then suddenly she’s opening up your door, hand extended to help you out. The lights are blinding, flashing so fast the afterburn never gets any time to dissipate. Pasting on a smile you cling to Jay’s strong arm, rock solid even under all her suit layers. Paps shout and scream at you to look their way and you can barely hear them over one another.

Eventually the two of you make it through the front doors of the hotel and you gasp like you’ve been drowning. Rubbing your shoulders Jay moves to cover you, cuts off the private moment from prying eyes that seek and skitter.

“Is it always like that?” You gasp. Fighting to regain your balance.

“Unfortunately,” she says with a rueful smile. “But that’s the worst of it over, now we can really enjoy the night.” Gallantly she offers you her arm and you accept it gratefully, her elbow brushing up against the swell of your breast as you walk.

She introduces you to the night’s hosts – her family – with a whispered apology in your ear. Jay is secretly, privately glad that you don’t notice Dick’s eyes lighting up with interest in you as you come in to view. She’s very careful to stamp that light out with a scowl and pantomiming slitting his throat. He’s all charm and smiles when he’s introduced to you though Jay still stomps on his toes for good measure. She doesn’t know what possesses her to, but she wraps a proprietary arm around the small of your back as she steers you around the room. Helps you to crystal flutes of champagne that make your nose twitch at the carbonation and warns you off the most disgusting canapes.

Jay has just chased down the waiter carrying the mushroom and cheese quiche bites you’d fast declared your favourite when the two of you get roped into a very stilted conversation with some of the fat cats the Waynes are currently trying to drain dry, for charitable reasons of course. She’s tuned out the conversation while she piles all the best looking bites onto a plate for you, horrifically uninterested in whatever Mr. Harold J. Carson, esquire had to say about the Texan economy. She cottons on to something being wrong as your hands tense up around her arm and your laugh gets ever more brittle.

“That’s a very kind offer Mr. Carson–”

“Harold, please,” the great mustached walrus harumphs.

“–Mr. Carson,” you bravely soldier on. “But I’m here on a date and I hope you’re not implying that I’m the type of woman to two-time someone.”

He turns an ugly shade of puce and sputters at the implication, society matrons chuckling behind their glasses at his terrible blunder. Sensing an opportunity, Jay grabs you by the arm and starts leading you away.

“I do think our presence is needed by my family elsewhere,” she says, vowels Diamond District clipped. Her grip around your fingers is strong, tighter than it’s ever been as she leads you down a hallway and into an unused meeting room. Her breaths are coming heavy as she drops your arm like she’s been burned, deposits the plate on the empty table. Jay knows if she speaks now, her voice will shake and she will not have that. FUCK. Fuck, she was supposed to have this under control by now. She’s not your keeper, she’s not gonna stand between you and happiness but fuck it hurts to be used like a ticket into someone else’s bed.

“Jay,” you ask cautiously. “Are you okay? I really wasn’t going to take him up on his offer, I’m telling the truth, promise.”

“Why’d you come with me as a friend when you were already invited as someone’s fucking date?” Jay spits out, unable to contain her jealous anger and pacing to try and burn it off.

“But you invited me,” you answer her, voice trailing off in confusion.

“You just told Mr. Texas Oil Man that you’re here on a date,” Jay says, voice tight and frustrated at having to spell this out for you. “And we–” she gestures sharply at the two of you “–are not on a date.”

Your face falls, voice thin and hurt. “We’re not?” you ask softly.

Jay has to stop pacing because wait what.

“You– you thought this was a date,” she says slowly. “You got all dressed up and wore the heels you hate because you wanted to look good. For me.” You hug yourself tightly and nod, gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. “But you don’t even like women?” And it’s less a painful fact she knows now and more of a question. 

“We met because my date stood me up!” you exclaim.

“Yeah, Jerry,” Jay says, not sure where this is going. “Fuck that guy.”

“Gerry short for Geraldine!” you practically howl. “I’ve been practically throwing myself at you ever since, I thought you were just being nice and not saying anything to hurt my feelings,” you yell at her. “I thought– I thought you were finally giving me a chance tonight.” You pant, chest heaving as you reveal this more vulnerable truth.

“Oh,” she says stupidly, suddenly forced to re-contextualize her entire life for the past few months. You dash an angry hand at your tear eyes and turn to go.

“It was my mistake,” you tell her voice thick with emotion.

And fuck. Jay’s not about to let the best thing that ever walked into her life just walk right back out. Not without a fight. Eating up the distance with her longer legs, she reaches out and gently clasps your wrist. Turns you around and pins you the door by it, forces you to look up at her with wide teary eyes.

“Oh sweetheart,” she croons and you shudder. “Bet you’ve been feeling like I’ve been treating your real raw lately.” She cups your face in her hand, smoothes her thumb over the high plain of your cheekbone. “Why don’t you tell me what you were hopin’ for with your one big chance, tell me how tonight was supposed to go.” Jay nuzzles the side of your cheek, inhales the sweat and desperation rolling off your skin.

“We were– we were supposed to dance,” you confess, head falling back against the door. 

“We can still do that,” she says, curling her fingers into your hair and pulling. She grins at your swift inhale.

“We were gonna dance an’ then, then you were gonna take me home.” You breathe out, pupils blown wide with hunger.

“Was that it baby girl?” She asks. “Playing it a little safe for your one night fantasy, weren’t you?” Jay lets go of your wrist to rest her hand on your shoulder, large hand pressing down on your collarbone.

“Was gonna kiss you goodnight,” you whimper, shivers running across your skin. Slowly, so slowly you can make out the ticking seconds hand of the big clock on the wall, Jay leans in and carefully slots her mouth down over yours. Sucks gently on your bottom lip before releasing it with a sigh.

“Like that?” Jay asks. “You were just hoping for a sweet little kiss on the mouth?” Her own breathing is ragged.

“No–o,” you gasp. “Was hoping– was hoping you’d kiss a little lower too.”

Swiftly Jay drops to her knees, so fast she barely recognizes the pain of it. Hooks your leg over her shoulder and starts rucking up your devastating dress to expose your panties. Moaning you scrabble at the door, her hair, anything to keep you upright and balanced. 

“These,” she snarls, then licks a fat stripe across the thin fabric of your black lace panties. “I’ve been dreaming of getting my hands on them since I first saw them.” You shiver, bury your hands into her thick hair for balance.

“They’re my– my lucky date underwear,” you gasp into the air. 

“And you were hoping to get lucky tonight, weren’t you baby girl?” She coos up at you.

Biting your lip, you nod. Jay sets about tearing your underwear to pieces with her teeth. Your thighs tremble around her ears and she slams your hips back down against the door. Spreads your lips open with calloused fingers, presses a light kiss to your clit in greeting before she starts making out with your pussy. You howl and sag, trusting her to take the full weight of you as your knees turn to jelly.

Jay eats you out with enthusiasm and she eats you out with experience. Does this thing with the slick thrusting muscle of her tongue that has you gasping and begging for more. Can feel the heel of your shoe digging into her back, urging her own, begging her to fuck you harder. Spells her own name against your clit, brands her claim on you into your flesh as you wobble and whimper. Slick runs down her face as she grinds her nose into you.

Sucks your clit, hard, just a hint of teeth as she spears you open on a thick finger. Twists and curls it against your slick wet walls, lets herself affectionately get acquainted with your cunt. Scissors you open with two fingers just to watch your head bang back against the door, eyes shut and tears streaming down your face. Sets an uneven rhythm with her fingers and tongue that has you moaning and trying to ride her face for more. Finger fucks you with wet, squelching vigour as you quiver and shake, walls tightening up as you careen towards climax. Starts putting pressure on your rim with a third finger just to tip you over the edge of it all, pleasure making you stupid. Jay bites down at the sensitive inner skin of your thigh and suddenly has to drink down the slick of your second orgasm. So her baby girl likes a little pain with her pleasure, she’ll have to remember that for next time.

Gently, she takes your trembling thigh off her shoulder and places it back onto the ground. Pulls your skirt back down to hide the utter wreckage she’s made of your panties. Jay scrubs at her chin with her hand, then licks down all the sweet remaining slick she finds there. Grins felinely as you moan at the sight.

“Hoping for a little something like that, honey?” She teases.

Vigorously you nod, head bouncing back and forth like a bobblehead, words still fucked out of your brain. She holds out a hand to you – not the one that’s just been buried knuckle deep inside you – and clasps your hand in her own.

“C’mon, let’s go home then,” she tells you airily, leading you back through the maze of the building.

“But what about the party?” you ask, mascara still smeared around your eyes.

“I don’t care,” Jay bites out. “I’m taking you home and I’m fucking you until either I pass out or the sun comes up.”

“Okay,” you say, voice just verging on a whine. “That sounds better, actually.”

“Good,” Jay smirks. “Because it wasn’t a question.”

series masterlist | part 2

[spirit-fingers22]

To answer your questions as best as I can

Gwen could have gotten the clothes from the universe she's staying in the watch does allow her to open portals so she could have just opened a portal to her room and gotten clothes from there.

Or she just bought them. If so I'd like to believe there was a very cozy shopping montage that happened behind the scenes.

Secondly, yes people can see Hobie changing colors definitely.

The reason why Miles doesn't ask or make a remark is because there's millions of questions running through his mind on the second so he's trying to focus on a lot of things simultaneously but what's at the top of his priority list is Gwen, Impressing Miguel, Getting Into The Spider Society (atleast at that time).

Thirdly, though not stated. I do believe that Gwen can see the colors but it just comes naturally to her it's almost second to breathing as she's spent her whole life with her environment's colors changing to the mood. Which is why she's not distracted.

So yes Miles and the others would definitely see this.

Yes Miles would be asking these questions but again there was a lot going on and not enough time to question anything.

Fourthly, Hobie doesn't conform to anything hence why he's not affected by the art style shifts. He's just that stubborn.

Gwen and Miles and the others change to the other's artstyles because there anatomy is conforming to the new rules of the universe and is why they're always so unstable after staying long in someone else's universe.

And lastly, Gwen's dad didn't put the gun down because as he sees it he's looking at the murderer of his surrogate son (Peter Parker) Spider-Woman: the criminal. Not his daughter Gwen.

Hope this answers that.

Things that keep me up at night: ✨Spiderverse edition✨

Where did Gwen get this outfit from? She had nothing but the cardigan with her when arriving in Miles’ room, so where did she get these clothes from? Did she buy them? Did she steal them? They aren’t Rio’s, otherwise she would’ve pointed that out. When did she change into them? She’s not wearing her suit underneath them so did she speed-change out of them as soon as she said bye to Miles? Where did she keep her suit then?? Are there random piles of clothes strewn across spider-people’s universes that they just change in and out of??? Have they all mastered the art of speed-changing????

Can the other characters see Hobie changing colour palette and art style? Or is it one of those things where it’s just the audience that sees it? I understand the others not reacting to it since they’re used to Hobie, but if I were in Miles’ shoes and I just met a guy who changed colour before my eyes I would be way more vocal about it! “BuT SilEnt, MileS is DesEnsitisED to tHis sTuff” Yeah but he still REACTS to the weird shit that goes on around him! I feel like he’d at least make a passing comment if he could see it. Does Hobie think everyone around him is changing colour too?

Same question for Gwen and her universe. Like… can she see all this?? I would be super distracted if I was having an emotional moment with my dad and my surroundings started flash-banging me with random colours and shapes. (I know they’re meant to reflect her emotions but you know what I mean). If Miles came to her universe would he see all this? Or would it just look the same as 1610 to him?

Also why is Gwen the only character who doesn’t stay in her universe’s art style when she visits other universes?? The animators payed way too much attention to detail in this movie for that to be an accident right?!

And last but not least- WHY DID’NT HE PUT THE GUN DOWN?!?!

[lukreziaaa]

random spencer reid x reader headcanons

they have a super sweet meet cute that makes everyone goes “shut up you’re lying” (especially morgan) and makes them blush every single time.

don’t know maybe they met in a bookstore and he grabbed reader a book they couldn’t reach and reader saw the hand and fell in love (love at first sight with hand) and then turned around and fell even more because have you seen him?

and maybe reader is a teacher or a professor and it’s one of those teacher that is so good and loved by their students.

they could be science-y or a lit professor, i just know that spencer would always help in every way possible when they need it and together they make some of the best lessons of the course.

they love doing things together, one of their favourite routines is sitting on spencer’s incredibly cozy looking couch and they each read their books.

and when spencer has read his third or fourth book he asks reader to read to him out loud.

they also love to watch films and tv shows together. reader loves to hear all the inaccuracies in star wars from spencer and he loves listening to all the fun fact reader knows about behind the scenes and actors stuff because he knows they love to find out about them.

and maybe one halloween or for a convention they convince him to drop the fourth doctor outfit and try to go as the eleventh

(because he is my fave and spencer would have such an easy time cosplaying him…like seriously, he dresses like eleven)

and reader dresses as clara or river (or jack/rory if you want male!reader)

under the cut I’ll put the proof that spencer has the same style as eleven and would have no problem cosplaying him (also I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Spencer’s outfit for 7 years circa and eleven’s outfit for a week aka since I saw it)

Do you see the vision?

[lover-of-mine]

Hi!

Happy 8x06 day :D

I recently got into 9-1-1 (read: binged all seven seasons and five episodes in two weeks) and I can honestly say no other fandom drew me in this quickly - that being said I love the color theories surrounding our boys, however I am still a bit unclear on what the significance of Eddie's yellow / Buck's blue is and how do they play into eachother?

Hi!! Welcome to the madness. I will link my main posts about the blue and yellow but a lot happened this season already, so I'll do an overview here too (x x x x x)

Basically, Buck's coming out arc is blue and yellow coded and Buck is dressed in shades of blue through the whole thing.

The culmination of Buck's coming out arc is the coming out scene in 705 because it is the only moment Buck chooses to come out. So this is Buck's blue.

While Buck was doing all that, Eddie was in the sun, or surrounded by gold/yellow.

So in the coming out scene, we have Buck settled into his blue and Eddie in front of his yellow.

But the blue and yellow coding of Buck and Eddie actually started in 201. Down to the way that "Practice rounds have blue caps. Gold caps are live." with the blue and yellow lights on the ambulance ceiling. If you pay attention while watching they have a lot of scenes with blue and yellow elements.

Some more blue and yellow coding.

But the main thing here is the will reveal.

For all intents and purposes, this is an aborted love confession, and Buck is in yellow, Eddie is in blue. But more importantly, Buck is in the yellow that we have behind Eddie for the coming-out scene.

And interestingly enough, the blue of the wall, is the blue of Buck's hoodie in the hospital when he comes out to everyone. So they are switched.

Also, during the 601 dinner, when they establish the couch thing, they are blue and yellow, like, Buck's grey is blue in the same way Eddie's beige is yellow.

So the idea is that Eddie will be sandy yellow beige the same way Buck was navy blue while figuring himself out. One example of that is the sandy shirt Eddie is wearing while talking to Bobby on 804. Also the general blue and yellow coding of Eddie's arc that episode.

Something else that happened is that Eddie was wearing Buck's blue at the hospital in 805.

Which leads us to today's clip. I color-corrected the clip because @stagefoureddiediaz thought that it might be the same shirt, which would put Eddie firmly in the yellow category while talking to the priest, and tie things to that conversation in 601.

This puts more into the theory that Eddie find his way to his shade of yellow the same way Buck found his shade of blue. I think since Buck worked through darker shades of blue to find his color, Eddie will do the opposite and will be lighter shades of yellow, working up to something in this real of yellow.

And that the buddie canon will be with Buck in his blue and Eddie finally in his yellow. So I'm on high alert for them in blue and anything that could be categorized as yellow.

And this got longer than I planned oajksoaksoaks if you read this I love you 🫶

I will taglist this one (interact with this post if you wanna get tagged)

@sparkedblaze @caw-salem @dreamofsomepiphany @100ceruleaneyes @linus-lucy @chaosqueery @gina-spike @chimchiminie98 @elvensorceress @singitforthegirls @dangerpronebuddie @182daysof @steadfastsaturnsrings @sparklespiff @inell @miles--to--go @jesuisici33 @wolfdeans @lunarsolar1 @joshwritesfics @glasscities @kejfeblintz @stagefoureddiediaz @mosaicstardust @eddiedisasterdiaz @hermioneindisguise @queerprincesseddiediaz @lookforanewangle @becausebuckley @lemotmo @thenainitaldisaster

@dingdongfries @angelcamael

[loulovingho]

The fact they did this breakup thing when Lou/Tommy posts got the most interactions is so weird. Putting him on their Instagram after 805, stressing the Evan of it all. We never even learned how it came about that he called him that?? Anyways, tommy stills got some of the highest interactions, the scenes posted of him got high interactions, and it was clear he was a GA fan favorite. I really don’t understand and I’d love to know wtf was going on behind the scenes

[fandoms-in-law]

Sweet Hate

Summary: Eddie has an unconventional way to reassure Steve he won't be silent if he gets dissatisfied in their relationship

Authors Note: Based off the McFly song 'Hate Your Guts' It seemed like a good song for a relationship that came from an enemies to lovers trope like Steddie often gets seen as.

/\

It started as a reassurance and a joke.

Steve had only been dating Eddie for a month when he explained what happened with Nancy and his fears of it happening again, of not knowing when someone he dated wasn’t as into the relationship as him.

Eddie had nodded at it all, gotten annoyed, then told Steve in many ways that he’d never do that to him, ending with, “I promise if I ever hate your guts, I’ll tell you immediately. Will you do the same?”

Steve agreed, missing the scheming glint in Eddie’s eyes.

~

They’d been having a quiet afternoon. Eddie was painting some minifigs while Steve pottered with various things around the trailer when he broke the quiet by sneezing loudly. Eddie startled enough his paintbrush almost covered the figure he’d been close to finishing.

“Bless you. I hate you. You couldn’t have held that until I wasn’t holding a brush?” He complained, stretching and leaning close to see if he could save it.

“Nope, could you wipe it off?” Steve asked, wandering over to look at it as well, only quietly adding “Just annoyed? Not actually hate?” quietly into Eddie’s shoulder once there.

Eddie grinned over his shoulder, “Just annoyed.” He reassured, “And maybe. Oh, it could be a backstory thing too.” With that he was grabbing a tissue and entirely focused on the minifig again.

~

Since the first time Eddie had done it the paid had fallen into the habit of declaring their hatred at the smallest things. For Steve if was generally in private, because he’d just go with the flow for a lot of social things, but wanted spaces to be tidy or organised which Eddie struggled with. Eddie however would declare hatred at least a couple times during each hang out and even if they spoke if it was something they’d need to work out, and knew if it was a dumb complaint, they started to get concerned looks from the kids again.

It all led up to Dust in Eddie’s doorstep one morning, upset and confused and resolute on getting answers over why the two people he’d tried so hard to make get along didn’t again.

“Why do you hate Steve?” Dustin demanded as soon as he was let into the Munson trailer.

Eddie shrugged, glancing behind him to the door hiding Steve in his room, still asleep. “I don’t hate him. I love the guy. He’s brilliant.”

“You literally always say you hate him.” The counter was annoyed and paired with a glare even as the kid fell back on the sofa as if he was the one that lived there.

He shook his head, not really sure how to explain why he did that to other people. “It’s not meant and he knows that. It’s just a thing we do.”

“I thought you were dating but you keep saying you hate him all the time.” Dustin grumbled, clearly not believing or not listening to him.

The door to his room opens and out comes Steve, yawning and smiling sleepily. “It’s sweet and I say it back. Like this, Eddie, I hate your guts. I got none of the blankets until you got up today.”

“Not sure how to solve that one Sweetheart, maybe we need separate blankets for sleeping.” Eddie mused, ignoring Dustin gaping between them.

After a moment to be stunned Dustin exclaimed, “How is it sweet to declare hatred all the time?”

“Just is.” was all the explanation given as Steve decided to help himself to breakfast.

~

After that scene the kids still frowned at them some, but seemed less concerned over it. Will once or twice tried suggesting over ways to communicate but didn’t worry if they were ignored.

Robin however had also noticed them and the only thing preventing her from speaking up sooner had been that Steve still seemed happy, almost happier than he had when he first started dating Eddie, she thought.

It still wasn’t something she could entirely ignore though, so one shift when Eddie hadn’t snuck in, she had to ask, “Steve? Are you happy?”

“Yes, why?” He replied automatically, focused on rewinding the returns that had been dropped in during the pre-work rush.

“You’re dating Eddie, but-” She broke off, unsure how to continue and hoping he’d figure out what she was talking about.

Steve turned to her, leaning against the wall now. “But?”

She huffed, just saying as quickly as she could, “He keeps saying he hates you, like everyday.”

“Nah, he loves me. It’s a sweet thing.” Steve corrected though he didn’t argue over how much it happened.

“Sweet?” She asked, confounded, “Normally I can follow your brain, but how is saying he hates you sweet?”

Steve shrugged, swapping the tapes over as the one he’d put in finished rewinding. “I worried he’d hide it from me if he wasn’t into me any more, so he started this. Every small peeve gets said so we can sort it. I just do it less around everyone.”

“But ‘I hate you’?” She asked, feeling entirely stuck on how that could be sweet in any world.

“I check if he means it if it’s too seriously said.” Steve smiles softly, looking at her imploring her to understand.

Robin smiled back, nodding and relaxing, “Okay Dingus. Just know I’m here if it stops being sweet.”

“I know.”

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 8 | Adorable Chaos

summary: one day you woke up to Matt becoming the best dad for two of your little fur babies, showing all of the affection you wanted to show them yourself but couldn’t and there was Matt fulfilling your little dream

warnings: FLUFF, none! Cutesy content ahead of Matt being an animal dad

authors note: I keep falling behind the time I have set to post the fics and idk why 😭 another amazing idea brought to me by pookie @/strnilolover, and I was watching s4 of obx and when I tell you I was balling my eyes out but here’s the fic 😋 luv y’all and hope y’all enjoy this one

no nut november | masterlist | guestlist

The sun had barely rose up, casting a warm sunny glow over the room of my small apartment. In the living room, the soft purring of a cat mixed with the gentle tapping of tiny feet on the wooden floor. There was also the soft snuffling from a hedgehog, whose tiny, spiky body was inside a bunch of cozy blankets. My boyfriend Matt officially calls himself the ultimate caretaker of Molly and Mochi, and it was clear he wore that title with proudness.

I watched from the kitchen, a soft smile spreading across my face as I sipped at my fresh morning coffee. I was supposed to be getting ready for the day, but the sight before me was simply too adorable to look away from. Matt had transformed the living room into an own castle for my pets. Fluffy beds litter the floor and couch, precariously placed toys, and a mini cat tower took the most space, all precisely placed just for Molly and Mochi.

He sat on the floor, cross-legged, as Molly approached him, her eyes becoming wide with evident curiosity. In one swift motion, Matt pulled out a tiny feather toy from behind his back and as he waved it in the air, she transformed from a completely calm kitten to almost like a small hunter, jumping around and playfully swatting at the air. “You see, girl? You’ve got it! Just like that!” Matt cheered, his voice laced with enthusiasm. Molly responded to his praise with a soft meow, her tail wagging back and forth as she enjoyed all of his attention. Next to him, Mochi was busy sniffing through all of the delicious treats laid out like a buffet.

Matt had took time out of his evening searching through the pet store’s best treat options for Mochi picking out crunchy bites as if he was picking out red wine. He pointed at Mochi, who was blissfully munching away and announced, “Look at him eat! He’s such a cute little thing!” The sight of Matt caring for my pets stirred something deep inside of me, like an overwhelming warmth that got into every corner of my heart. It was adorable how he had essentially assumed the role of their caring parent, going above and beyond in his care for them.

“You know,” I joked while walking into the room, admiring the cuteness of a mess on the floor, “I thought I was the one who adopted them.” Matt turned to glance at me, his face lighting up with playful mock. “You think a mom can spoil her kids too much? What about the dad’s, huh? We can spoil the little fur baby’s too from time to time” Molly hopped onto Matt’s lap, immediately settling down as if to agree with his statement. Her spine straight and head tucked inside, she was in complete trust. Mochi, getting a bit jealous stomped over towards them and nudging Molly with his tiny nose as if to say, “Hey, I want attention too!”

Matt chuckled and scooped Mochi into his hands, gently cradling him. “Don’t worry, buddy! You’re our little superstar,” he said, giving Mochi a soft scratch on his spiky back. Mochi snuggled into his hand, his small body curling up into a ball of joy. I leaned against the door frame, admiring the scene as my heart fills with affection thats radiating off them. There was something so sweet about watching Matt collapse into a pile of giggles as he struggled to get Molly and Mochi to be at peace with each other in a small game. The way he showered them with affection made your own small attempts to gain their favor feel nearly impossible and slipping away.

“Okay, okay! Molly, you’re the champ! Now Mochi, your turn!” he exclaimed joyfully, as he attempted to get Mochi to follow the sound of a new toy from the ground. In that moment, Matt was entirely in his own bubble completely absorbed in their moves, treating my pets with the kind of love I’d only imagined giving them myself. I slowly walked closer, enveloped in the warmth of their laughter and the peaceful calming sounds that filled the air.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, you sat down beside him. “I think they’re starting to like you more than me,” I joked, wrapping an arm around him. Matt grinned, his eyes beaming with warmth. “Well, can you blame them? I’m a pretty cool fur dad” He pulled me closer, and even in the perfect chaos that these two little creatures brought into our lives, I felt something for sure-this was your family now-imperfect, chaotic, but filled with love.

I gave him a little smile, allowing myself to lean against him as Molly snuggled further into him and Mochi settled onto Matt's other knee. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I whispered, knowing in my heart that the love I had for Matt only became deeper by the way he accepted every weird flaw of our little fur filled family.

Guestlist!

| - @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 - @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknot - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - @phone4pills - @emely9274 - @cupiidk1lls - @lily-strnlo - @nicksgirlfriend - |

[little-wicked10]

You’re Worse than Me 🥃(Billy Butcher Smut)

Summary: The Boys get dragged out by their girls to go dancing. Ain’t nothing like wrangling a bunch of drunk women to keep them from fighting or fucking in the middle of a club.

Warnings: Smut 18+ (duh), cursing, drinking, fighting, breeding kink, subspace, daddy kink, possessive behavior, Butcher being Butcher, Annie, Kimiko, and oc being drunk party girls lol

Notes: This is basically inspired by a scene in Yellowstone where a woman at a bar tries to hit on Rip and she goes up to Beth to be like “I’m taking your husband home” and Beth beats her ass. Alcohol makes people do dumb shit so that’s also the thought behind this smut.

“Bold Italics” - characters are speaking in Kimiko’s sign language

//

“We’re going out dancing, and you’re coming with us. All of you,” Annie said defiantly.

“Oi! Don’t be bargin’ in ‘ere makin’ demands without so much as a ‘ello,” Butcher shot back as he stared at the three women looking over the rest of them, “What do you birds wanna go dancin’ for?”

“And why do you want us to go?” Hughie added.

“We all need to let off some steam. It’ll be fun and we’re going. You can come with us or we can get hit on by drunk assholes. Your choice,” she stared down her surly boyfriend.

The three women knew that it wouldn’t take Frenchie and Hughie much convincing, MM would come to get his party on, but Butcher was fucking stubborn. He hated clubs. The only thing he hated more was some drunk cunt trying to touch her. His girl.

The room was eerily tense as the two had a silent battle of wills, wondering who would cave first under the other’s glare. Butcher thought he’d win until he saw that terrifying look in her eyes. Last time he saw that look, he slept on the couch for four days with his tail tucked between his legs.

Butcher groaned, throwing his head back as he spun his chair, “Fine!”

He rolled his eyes as he heard her and the other women in the room nearly squeal with delight. Butcher sat up in his chair as she pranced over and sat her pretty self on his lap, kissing his cheek then the corner of his mouth before pressing her lips to his ear, “Thank you, daddy.”

His chuckle was dark. She was such a fucking troublemaker.

//

They were like a bunch of giddy teenage girls as they all crowded in the bathroom doing their hair and makeup. Butcher and MM had taken the liberty of raiding Hughie’s liquor cabinet to pour themselves a whiskey. Hughie noticed while the ladies were on cloud nine to finally be going out, the men seemed more apprehensive.

“Am I uh missing something? Why don’t you wanna go out with them?” Hughie asks as he leans against the kitchen island.

“You kidding? You not know what happens when women go out together?” MM asked.

“If you think we’re bad, kid, wait till those birds get a lil nip of tequila on their tongues,” Butcher finished his glass to punctuate his sentence.

Hughie scoffed a little, “Okay. I’ve been out with Annie like a hundred times. She doesn’t go crazy.”

“That’s when it’s just you and her. It’s when you get a group of ’em together,” MM explained, “They just start feedin’ off each other’s energy.”

“Oh sure, it’s all right as rain and fuckin’ roses until they start drinkin’. Then someone’s favorite song comes on which leads to dancin’ and more drinkin’,” Butcher almost rolled his eyes at the thought.

Frenchie piped in from his seat on the couch, “Wrangling drunk women is like wrangling cats.”

Hughie was skeptical of everything they had said. They were grown women, and Butcher and MM were acting like they were feral animals.

Glancing down the hall, all four of them watched as the three ladies made their appearance. Hughie found himself drooling when he finally saw Annie. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the black dress that hugged her body or how she shined with so much sexual confidence. Not sexy confidence. There was a difference.

“But that right there, my son, is why we men do what we do,” Butcher mumbled to Hughie as he shook the young man’s shoulder, “Because who’s gonna help the lil’ lady out of that tight dress with the tricky zipper later? Ay?”

Butcher’s face did little to mask his dirty thoughts as she stood before him wearing a tight dark red little dress, “Fuckin’ beautiful, pet.”

Her smile was sweet as she wrapped her arms around his neck and placed a loving kiss on his lips, squealing when he roughly grabbed her ass, “Be good, you nasty dog.”

Butcher growled playfully before kissing her again, “Yer one to talk.”

Frenchie saw how unsure Kimiko felt in the light blue dress. While the silent supe tended to wear mainly black, the girls convinced her to try a softer color. Maybe something to match her nails.

“Do you like it? They helped me pick it out,” she gestured towards her dress, “Look! It matches my nails!”

“I love it, mon coeur. You look so gorgeous. So beautiful,” Frenchie sounded a little out of breath as he watched her excitedly showed off her matching dress and nails.

Kimiko smiled brightly as she suddenly took Frenchie’s hand and quickly led the group out the door.

//

Thanks to Frenchie’s connection, they managed to get a private booth for their large party. A mischievous glint passed the girls’ faces when they all saw the stripper pole in the middle of the private area. They were on tequila shot number three when the first signs of the party girls started coming out to play. “Hughie! Take this shot,” Annie giggled excitedly.

Hughie’s eyes glanced around for the glass until he realize Annie was holding the shot between her pushed up tits. Instantly, he turned red and started to sputter a bit, “A-are you sure? Like…um.”

“Don’t be a twat! Get in there, my boy!” Butcher boomed.

“Do it, Petit Hughie!” Frenchie encouraged.

“How do I um…,” Hughie asks flustered.

“Are you seriously asking me how to take this shot?” Annie asked.

“Watch out. Let Daddy show you how it’s done. Grab that shot there, love,” Butcher gestured to the tequila shot sitting out on the table.

She was quick to pick up the glass and nestle it between her cleavage after sitting down on the man’s lap. Butcher instantly buried his face between her tits before resurfacing with his mouth wrapped around the glass, throwing his head back and draining the liquor down his open throat.

“See it’s easy. You got this, baby,” Annie encouraged.

Hughie just shrugged, giving in to peer pressure and taking the shot. They all laughed as Hughie coughed and nearly choked at the feeling of tequila sliding down his throat like a dick.

Butcher greedily groped her bare thigh that sat across his lap when he felt her hips begin to move as her body swayed to the club’s music.

“You gonna dance with me tonight, old man?” her voice was sweet and syrupy.

Butcher chuckled darkly at her attempts to rile him up, “I know this lil’ game, love. You act like you ain’t got the brains you’s was born wit’ til I gotta come round and fuck the sense back in to ya.”

She laughed playfully, “You’re allowed to be a big ass chaos monster on missions. It’s my turn to be a little crazy.”

//

Tequila shot number five was when her and Kimiko took advantage of the stripper pole. Annie and Frenchie threw crumpled dollar bills at them and cheered them on. Butcher and MM simply watched in amusement. The two older men had been around this block before. They’d been young once, and there was nothing better or worse than a sloppy drunk party girl.

“I don’t know how you do it, asshole. But that girl…she’s gonna kill you. Like, actually,” MM admitted to Butcher, “She matches your freak.”

“Better her than the alternative. Rather die chasing that lovely ass than pissin’ in a fuckin’ bedpan waitin’ for the reaper to come and swing me around by me cock,” Butcher scoffed with a little smile.

The two men jerked their heads towards the sound of Frenchie and Annie freaking out. Kimiko had thrown her arms around her friend’s shoulders and planted a kiss to her lips. Her initial reaction was surprise, but the tequila making her brain fuzzy made her kiss back. Goddamnit.

Butcher’s piercing whistle surprised them, “Oi! Behave ya selves!” She pulled away from her friend and rolled her eyes before going back to dancing.

As grown ass women working with a bunch of dick swinging men, it was nice to drink and not give two fucks about anything else. They’d been talking for ages about going out, but there was always too much to do. After passing around a joint at the office one night, the girls conjured up their plan to go let loose and torture their boyfriends.

“He’s such a buzz kill sometimes,” she giggled as she signed to Kimiko, “Good thing he fucks like a beast!”

“More shots! Also you’re a good kisser,” Kimiko giggled.

“What is she saying?” Annie asked.

“She said I’m a good kisser,” she giggled, “And we need more shots!”

Her, Annie, and Kimiko cheered and rushed off to the bar for more drinks before any of the guys could protest. Frenchie moved over to sit closer to Hughie and Butcher who were watching their girlfriends at the bar. They talked and laughed as they waited on their drinks. Hughie noticed how his girlfriend and Butcher’s girlfriend were being flirty with one another, the gap between them getting smaller and smaller.

“Should I be worried?” Hughie suddenly asked.

Butcher barked out a laugh that shook his shoulders, “Not enjoying the show, Hughie? Don’t get a lil’ tickle in ya pickle seein’ your bird tongued down my mine?”

“They are just having fun, Mon Petit Hughie,” Frenchie added, “Women express themselves more through sexuality.

“So we’re just supposed to watch our girlfriends all make out together and not do anything about it?” Hughie asked.

Frenchie, Butcher, and MM laughed hysterically as the young man realized how weird women were when they drank. Out of the corner of his eye, Hughie saw Annie get closer to the other woman’s face. He felt himself choke on his own spit when the blond pressed her lips to the other woman’s. The other men glanced over at what had Hughie so flustered and gave an amused chuckle.

“Fuck that’s a pretty sight, ain’t it?” Butcher smirked as he lit a cigarette.

When the other woman ran her fingers through Annie’s hair, Hughie went to stand up to break up whatever was happening with his girlfriend and her friend. He was stopped by Butcher and Frenchie clapping a hand on his shoulders and forcing him to sit back down, “Just let it play out, son.”

As the experienced, older men expected, the two girls parted with a giggle before taking the shots that been set on the bar. Those girls put on quite a show, driven by alcohol, curiosity, and the need to tease.

“Tequila, my boy. Tequila is a man’s greatest ally and enemy,” Butcher took a drag.

//

He couldn’t remember what number shot she was on, but the way she danced told him it was probably close to, if not over, ten. Her eyes were glazed over and staring into his as she danced with Kimiko under the colorful strobe lights. The way she guided Kimiko’s hips to move with hers to the rhythm of pounding music made him think about how that lovely little minx would be riding him when this was all said and done. Just let her take out the rest of that clear liquor coursing through her body on his.

His sinful thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a wobbly presence sitting down and leaning against him. The smell of vodka and shitty perfume filled his nose when a drunk girl sat next to him.

“Hey. Got a light?” she held out an unlit cigarette.

Butcher reached into his pocket to pull out his lighter. He flipped it open and flicked the flame to life, lighting the girls cigarette before shutting it. He never broke eye contact with his dancing vixen out on the dance floor, but her expression had changed from one of wanting to devour him to an annoyed grimace at the other sloppy party girl treading into her territory.

“What’s a handsome guy like you doing by yourself?” the girl exhaled before turning her body to fully face his, tits almost brushing against his arm.

“Night out with my girl,” Butcher jerked his head towards the dance floor.

“I don’t see her,” he felt her eyes still staring at his profile, her hand coming to rest on his thigh, “Besides, with an accent like, I can be your girl. I can be whatever you want me to be.”

Butcher chuckled before leaning over and pointing, “See that lass over there? The one that looks like she wants to tear yer bloody throat out wit’ her teef? Tha’s mine.”

The overly bleached blonde looked out to the dancing crowd and saw who he’d been talking about. She had stopped dancing and was glaring in their direction, whispering something to Kimiko.

The girl turned back with a smirk, “I’m not scared of her. Let me go talk to her. Woman to woman.”

Butcher raised his thick eyebrows in surprise before picking up his drink, “Your fuckin’ funeral, doll.”

He watched in amusement as the drunk girl strutted her way over to the lioness glaring her down. Frenchie and Hughie sat down on either side of him having returned from the bar. They had clearly noticed the interaction, and Hughie was the first to ask, “What was that?”

“Nuffin’. Just some cunt,” Butcher replied picking up his smoking cigarette from the ashtray.

“Oh shit,” Frenchie suddenly piped in.

They looked up just in time to see Butcher’s girlfriend deck out the blonde girl that had been flirting with him just moments ago. All three men were up on their feet the second the girl hit the floor and proceeded to be kicked by the woman she’d tried to “talk” to.

“Motherfucker!” Butcher growled as he rushed to stop her from ripping a chunk of bleach blonde hair from the poor girl’s head.

The crowd parted as they watched the fight, a couple people pulling out their phones to record. Hughie and Frenchie were quick to push Annie and Kimiko out of the way as Butcher swooped in. Prying her off the poor beaten and bloody girl, Butcher threw her struggling ass over his shoulder and booked it out of the club.

“FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING SKANK! PUT ME DOWN, BUTCHER!”

“OI, OI! LET’S FUCKIN’ GO!” Butcher hollered.

She still yelled profanities and threats as the others led the way out of the club. By the time they reached the outside, Butcher couldn’t help but laugh at the little woman fighting like a badger and cussing like a sailor. He kept laughing as they all ran down the sidewalk towards the van. When they finally slowed down, Annie had fallen onto the side walk giggling with heavy limbs, and Kimiko was being carried in Frenchie’s arms with a satisfied drunk smile.

“This the downside of tequila?” Hughie huffed out trying to pull Annie up off the ground with no success, “This what you were trying to warn me about?”

Butcher panted out a laugh before readjusting the woman on his shoulder, “Aye, it is.”

Hughie suddenly struggled with Annie as the girl was up and grabbing at his clothes and kissing on his neck. “Annie, babe. Babe, we are in public!” Hughie complained as he fought off the small woman’s advances.

“C’mon, Hughie! Let’s be naughty. Take me over to an alley or something,” Annie giggled like crazy as her hands slipped under Hughie’s shirt.

Butcher turned back to see the young lad fighting to keep his lady out of his pants, “Ya alright, lad! Keep ‘er movin’! Soon’a ya get her home, the soon’a she can jump ya cock.”

Butcher heard MM honk the horn from down the street, flashing the headlights as he leaned out the driver’s side window. Butcher began to walk in the van’s direction when he felt her reach down and smack his ass hard.

“Ay!” he popped her ass making her squeal, “MM might be right. You plannin’ on killin’ me, love?”

“Only way to guarantee no one comes after me,” she slurred dreamily, “Is daddy gonna punish me later for being bad?”

Butcher smiled and crinkled his nose, jostling her on his shoulder, “Fuckin’ mess you are.”

//

A grunt left Butcher’s throat as her small hands frantically and expertly unbuckled his belt to start pushing them down. As soon as his jeans and boxers were around his ankles, she shoved him to sit on the edge of the bed as she bunched up the skirt of her tight dress over her ass. She was quick to straddle him and take his hard cock in her hand. Butcher moaned into her mouth as he dug his fingers into her hips, urging her to have a seat. She notched his tip at her entrance before slowly sitting down into his lap. One hand kept his dick steady while the other threaded into the hair at the back of his head for balance.

Both moaned and panted into each other’s mouths when her ass was flush with his thighs, his cock stretching and filling her deliciously.

“F-fuck, pet!” Butcher’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head.

A shiver trickled down her spine making her hips roll. His hands left her hips to trail up her body and pull down the top of her dress, tits spilling out for his hungry mouth and hands to attack. Both hands dug into his hair as his mouth enveloped one of her nipples and her hips began to roll frantically.

“Your cock feels so good, daddy!” she whimpered.

“Couldn’t wait to get me paws on ya after watchin’ ya pretty ass dance all night,” Butcher smirked against her chest, one of his hands releasing her breast to snake up her spine and hold the back of her neck, “You just take what ya want, don’t ya, love?”

She ground down harder making him slam fully against that spongey spot inside her. A whine tore from her throat as she bounced and ground frantically in his lap. Butcher reached up and wrapped his teeth around her earlobe, nibbling and sucking to encourage her on, “Keep usin’ me, pet. Get ya self off on daddy’s cock. There’s a good girl.”

Her needy whines and moans encouraged him to thrust his hips up into hers and help her chase that high. His hands changed their position to grab her hips again and shove his dick as deep inside her as he could. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her mouth fell open as Butcher’s callused hands kept her positioned so the tip of his dick stayed against her g-spot.

“Only cunt tha’s allowed to cum on this cock, this ugly mug, these fingers,” Butcher slurred, “Only cunt I wanna cum in.”

Her nails scratched his scalp, “F-fuck I’d let you live inside me!”

“I know ya would, love. Can feel how much this cunt loves my cock in her. If I had it my way, you’d stay tied to me bed, naked, and full,” Butcher sucked a deep hickey into her neck.

She rested her forehead against his, “You’re mine! This cock is mine! This mouth is mine! Fuck that fucking bitch that asked if I wanted to watch her fuck you!”

“Yer so fuckin’ sexy when yer jealous,” Butcher growled and reached down to rub his rough thumb against her clit, “Cum on me cock, my good girl, then I’ll fuck this cunt so full of me there’s no way it doesn’t take.”

Her body began to poise as her lips frantically met his, wrapping her arms around his neck and desperately chasing her high. As the coil snapped in her abdomen, she cried out into his mouth as she gushed around his large girth. Her body shook as if she’d been electrocuted, and Butcher groaned at the feeling of her cunt squeezing and squirting all over his cock.

“Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl. Squirtin’ and gushin’ all over daddy,” he cooed.

“I love you! I love you! Fuck, I fucking love you, Billy!” she cried as her orgasm still rippled through her.

He chuckled darkly as he kept fucking her like a mad man, “Love you too, my little troublemaker.“

“Cum inside me, please!” the desperation was evident in her voice, “Please, baby! Please!”

“My desperate lil’ whore,” Butcher smirked as her cries drove him closer and closer to the edge.

Her hips weakly met this thrusts, letting him use her body like she had used his. She kept gushing around him the more he pounded. Her lips were next to his ear begging and crying for him. Butcher’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he groaned and grabbed her ass roughly.

“Put a baby in me, Billy. I want your baby.”

Good Lord.

He came so hard he saw stars. A sinful moan vibrated out of his chest as she sobbed out something along the lines of ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you’. Butcher kept thrusting up into her, whispering praises in his gravely voice. She didn’t know how long they sat there breathing each other’s air, but her post orgasm buzz put her in the syrupy sweet headspace that made her more desperate and pliant

“I want more, please,” she whispered against his lips.

Butcher nipped her bottom lip, “Ain’t stoppin’ till the bed is soaked, pet.”

//

Thank you to @shirley-girly for proof reading this😂💕