#this caught me off guard when i first heard it

[currentlyinflames]

What we have to do to survive - Sylus x gn!Reader

word count: 2.5k

Summary: Sylus comes home after a day of hunting Praedators and you see something off...

cw: violence, injury, mentions of blood, guns, reader is protective almost to an unhealthy level, theres like one suggestive sentence

a/n: written for the new event. I skipped over the patching up scene a lot im sorry im hella squeamish. this man has captivated all my senses so i must bite and write him. this is also my first fic to exceed a thousand words.

Enjoy :D

-        -           -    

You heard the glass door creak as Sylus crept back into your home. 

You never heard him walk in when you first met him but Sylus had since dropped his guard around you. Something about a “little kitten” not being a threat. You showed him just how much of a threat you could be later that night. 

You lifted your head from where it was buried in your book, not taking your eyes off it. 

“Got a moment kitten?” His deep voice called out to you. 

“Mhm, lemme finish this chapter,” You said, still deeply engrossed in your book. 

Sylus chuckled. “You’re not going to step away till you finish the whole book, right sweetie?” There was something held back in his voice, but you didn’t think too much of it. 

He came over to where you were curled up on the couch, standing behind the backrest to kiss you on the cheek. 

You turned your head, catching his lips. “Welcome home.” 

You both separated after a long moment when you caught him holding his side. You quickly got up and went around to him, scanning for any other injuries. 

“What happened? Why didn’t you say anything??” You gingerly touched the hand over the wound, he winced and you quickly pulled your hand away, keeping it hovering nearby. 

“I’m alright, kitten. It’s just a scratch.” Sylus tried to console you. 

You clicked your tongue, worry evident on your face. “You’d say that even if you were bleeding out.” 

He cupped your cheek with his free hand, forcing you to look into his eyes. He smiled softly, his crimson eyes holding your gaze, silently comforting you. 

That didn’t ease your worry as you gripped his arm, getting ready to guide him toward the bathroom with your first aid supplies. You took a breath. Panic would not help anyone right now. 

Sylus stood firm, preventing you from taking him anywhere. “I’m serious, kitten. I’ll be alright.” 

“Not if I don’t take a look. Now come with me or sit down.” 

Sylus chuckled, then winced. “You’re the boss.” 

Your hand slid from his forearm to his free hand, gently guiding him to the cabinet with the first aid kit. 

You made him sit on top of the counter, keeping his injury in front of you, feeling his eyes on you as you pulled out the supplies. 

You didn’t meet his gaze as you started working. “Now, are you gonna tell me what happened or do I need to coax it out of one of your associates.”

“No need to murder on my behalf, sweetie. It was just an incident with a Praedator, nothing too bad.” 

“But no Praedator has been strong enough to hurt you before. Are they getting stronger or are you losing your touch, honey?” You attempted to lighten the mood with your teasing but Sylus seemed pensive because of your words. 

“You’re aware of Praedator testing with frenzy enhancers, right?” 

Your brow furrowed. “Where are you going with this?” 

“You know I have enemies kitten, some of them have it out for me more than others. One of them happens to be in possession of black market frenzy enhancers.” 

“So the Praedator was sent to hunt you. And found you.” 

“They obviously didn’t succeed but they’re still a threat. I want you to keep a weapon on you at all times. Preferably one that I constructed myself with…special anti-Praedator features.” 

“You mean a gun with a taser and Praedator suppressant laced bullets-” 

“-And a second gun with normal bullets. You know me so well my dear. They’re in the top drawer of my nightstand along with my glasses, the hot ones- you know which ones.” 

You finished up the final bandages and went to put the supplies away when Sylus stopped you. “Aren’t you forgetting something sweetie?” 

“I…don’t think so?” 

He pointed to his lips. “A get-well kiss. Won’t that speed up the healing process.” 

You huffed out a laugh. “Oh my sweet, needy man.” 

You reached up to cup his face, one hand on his cheek and the other wrapped around his neck. Your lips slotted against each other perfectly, like they were made to match. His arm wound  around your waist, finding its home in the small of your back. 

You kissed him passionately, savouring the moment. And already thinking of you next move. 

- - - 

You had given Sylus a sleeping pill. A mild one to give you about 3 hours to track down the Praedator and the bastard that dared to target Sylus. 

You snuck over to his phone where he received all his missions and entered the password (“LitTlefeAtHer78%67><) to look up the details of his last job. 

Location: Southern District; near the Old Museum. 

Target: B-Class Praedator

The difficulty had obviously been fabricated. You’d fought B-Rank Praedators yourself and none of them were near Sylus’ skill level. 

The Museum was near where you and Sylus met as you saw him fight for the first time. He was injured then too but those were only a few scratches. Not a planned attack. 

You then scanned the page for any hint as to who might have sent the job. And there it was at the top: Ever. An odd codename but still a lead regardless. 

You looked over to see him sleeping peacefully in your bed. You never thought of yourself as vengeful but Sylus had changed you in many ways since you met him. 

You crept over to the bed and opened the nightstand drawer to pull out the guns he wanted you to have. It was fitting that you were using them on your first “official” job for him. 

The weight was unfamiliar yet balanced in your hands and you quickly tucked them into your holsters, eager to use them. 

You crept out of the room and through the same back door Sylus snuck in through just an hour ago. 

“I’ll be back baby,” you whispered as you looked back one last time before you left. 

Sneaking out with Sylus’ keen senses would have been the hard part of your journey if not for the sleeping pill. Now the obstacle was the time crutch and actually tracking your target from the Museum. 

If you assumed that Sylus had eliminated the treat before leaving the area, that would reduce the chances of you tracking your prey easily. You didn’t want to think that injury made Sylus sloppy but at the moment that was your best bet. 

You entered the museum on high alert, tensing as you hear a noise. A series of thumps followed. 

Slowly, you inched toward the sound, guns in hand, ready to strike at anything there. You hid behind a corner, peeking out to gauge what was there. 

A Praedator was chained to the wall, clearly a weaker type with how it struggled in short bursts, then gave up. 

So the B-Rank Praedator did exist, you realised. But another one was sent too.  

You stepped out from behind the corner, pistols aimed at the Praedator. It snarled back. 

“What happened here? Who sent you?” 

“I don’t work for anyone,” it hissed. “Some weird shirtless man chained me up here after killing another .” 

“And what was the other Praedator like?” 

“Stronger than the man, almost got a bite on him. Wearing a collar like a little pet too.” 

You were getting closer to the answers you wanted. “Did anyone come here after that?” 

“And what will helping you get me?” It sneered. 

“A quick and-relatively- painless death,” you said, raising your chin. “Or I can leave you here and signal some other large, higher ranked Praedator to finish the job. Maybe get some frenzy enhancers as well to really make it interesting.” 

To emphasise your point, you examined one of your guns and aimed it at its left hand, firing a warning shot but having it land in the space next to its upper arm. 

“You won’t actually shoot,” It growled. 

“Try me.” You aimed again, this time at its chest with the electrically charged bullets. You pulled the trigger. 

The bullet didn’t pierce the skin but settled on top, making the Praedator jolt from the electrical shock. 

“Ok- the Praedator was branded- there’s a research facility 3 buildings down- it came from there- that’s all I know I swear-“ 

The jolts began to slowly stop. You cocked your gun, aiming straight at its chest. “Thank you for your service.” 

You fired. 

- - - 

Most buildings in the Southern District were abandoned, meaning there was minimal security in even the previously most important buildings. 

There was nothing stopping you from casually strolling into the facility after shooting the security guard. But you decided to sneak in just in case there were other security measures taken. 

You found an open window on the ground floor and at an easy enough height to crawl through. You landed on dirtied white floors and pulled out your pistols. 

You began walking through the hallway you stumbled into when you heard voices coming from ahead. 

You ducked into the nearest open room, rushing to hide from whoever was coming. 

The voices came closer as you scanned the room, quickly looking for somewhere to hide if they tried to come in. 

The room was compact, with a large cage in the middle. There were screens on the wall that might have been used to track the vitals of the Praedator within the cage but now it was abandoned. 

The voices reached a crescendo outside the room and you held your breath, your finger hovering over the trigger in case you had to make a quick escape. Then you heard the footsteps resume and the voices faded away. 

You paused for a moment, then peeked out of the room. Two men were still standing outside your room, seemingly waiting for something. One was wearing a lab coat and the other a suit. Then the man in the lab coat whispered something to the man in the suit. You could only make out a few words: lab, target and Ever. 

That’s when you caught sight of the suited man’s id badge. It was pinned to his suit jacket and was spelled in small but clear letters: EVER. 

You had found your target. And you would make him pay. 

You had nothing against the scientist other than the fact that he might be a possible witness. You quickly looked around for a distraction. The monitors in your hiding spot were all turned off but they might be connected to another system or alarm. 

You crept over to the nearest one that was hidden from the door and held down the on button. It took a moment, but slowly flickered on. 

The lab must have been abandoned for quite some time because the monitors made use of old technology that primarily detected whether the cage was open or not. 

It indicated that all was well because the cage lock was engaged. But with just the right aim….

You pulled out your normal gun and pointed it at the ancient lock, then fired. 

The bullet struck the latch perfectly. And then the alarms went off. 

The blaring noise made you flinch, then grip your guns harder as you prepared to face Ever. 

The first scientist came in, the one that was just talking to Ever outside. He frantically looked around but before he could catch you, you smacked him upside the head with your pistol. 

Then came the man you were truly waiting for. He ran into the room and you triggered the mechanism that would shut the door. 

“Hello Ever,” You smiled, twirling one of your guns. “I’ve been looking for you.”

He was still reeling from the shock of the alarm. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Who I am isn’t important. What matters to me is that you tried to harm Sylus, and I don’t take too kindly to that.”

“What could I possibly have to do with that criminal?”

“He’s a threat to you isn’t he? Unpredictable, cunning, skilled. If he decides that you’re his next target, there’s nothing stopping him.”

“He has no reason to target me. He was simply a bug that had to be crushed.”

A warning shot rang out. 

Ever flinched. 

“I know about the frenzy enhancers. I know how you faked the mission debrief to catch Sylus alone and off guard. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t target you the same way.”

Ever eyed your gun, then met your steely gaze. “My empire will come after you. They’ll never stop.” 

You tilted your head, raising your gun to his chest. “But what is a body without its head.” Then you fired. 

It was a shame you couldn’t draw this out longer, but alas you had a time constraint. 

After making sure the bullet had done its job, you triggered the door mechanism again and went back to where you previously hid. 

You watched the panicked scientists rush in and used the chaos to sneak out. 

Your job was done, and it was time to head home. 

- - 

You broke back into your home using the back door you used to get out. 

You quietly stepped into your closet, changed into comfortable clothes, and tip-toed into the bedroom to lie next to Sylus before he woke up. 

Slowly, you crawled into bed and lay down facing him, cuddling close to bury your face into his chest. 

“Had a nice trip kitten?” His voice came from above you. 

“Shut up I’m tired,” You murmured. “When did you wake up anyway, that pill was strong.” 

“You forget I’ve trained myself against poisons, a little melatonin does nothing. But I’m sure you’ll pass out pretty quick after the field trip you’ve had tonight. Hunting down one of my worst foes? You’re a feisty one aren’t you?” 

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” you mumbled into his chest. “And you kill for your job without any hesitation, why shouldn’t I do the same for you?” 

“Well that’s just what I have to do to survive in this world darling,” Sylus said. “You have a choice.” 

“What we have to do,” You amended. “We’re in this together, whether you like it or not.” 

He chuckled. “I didn’t know you’d go to such lengths for me kitten.” 

You look up and hold his gaze, unwavering. “I would do anything for you.” 

Sylus wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer, his warm breath against your ear as he kissed your temple. “It’s both cute and incredibly hot how you fight for my honour sweetie.” 

You smiled, burying your face back into his muscular pecs. “All for you darling.” 

A moment of silence passed with both of you basking in each others’ presence. Then- 

“And I must say kitten, this was probably one of the best Valentines Day presents you could’ve given me today.” 

[helvegen-s]

midnight in paris

a Charles Leclerc one-shot

Summary: A canceled flight, a midnight rain, and two strangers crossing paths in Paris. As they wander beneath the city lights, sharing laughter, stolen glances, and unspoken truths, the night becomes a world of its own. But when morning comes, reality awaits—leaving only the question of whether fate will bring them together again.

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: alcohol, implied sex (not explicit), abandonment

A/N: Soooo, this would be my first one-shot! I'm really happy with how it turned out—I had never written one before because I feel more comfortable with longer stories. But I absolutely loved it! I hope you enjoy it and give it lots of love! <3

masterlist

The sound of loudspeaker announcements echoed against the high ceiling of Charles de Gaulle Airport, blending with the murmur of hundreds of passengers who, like him, were stranded there without a clear destination.

"All flights have been canceled until further notice. We kindly ask passengers to contact their airlines for more information."

Charles Leclerc let out a heavy sigh, resting his hands on his hips as he stared at the large departure board, where each line turned red one by one. Canceled. Canceled. Canceled.

Fantastic.

He was in Paris for a Ferrari event and was supposed to fly to Monaco that same night. But the storm sweeping across half the continent had brought air traffic to a standstill, leaving him with only two options: remain trapped in a crowded, frustrated airport or venture into the city and find a hotel.

His assistant had already tried to book him a room somewhere, but the nearby hotels were overwhelmed.

"What if I try leaving the airport?" Charles asked, sliding a finger across his phone screen as he scrolled through transportation options. He heard his assistant sigh through his earpiece.

"Traffic is awful," his assistant replied. "There are barely any taxis available, and the trains are experiencing delays too."

Charles sighed. The last thing he wanted was to spend the night in an airport chair, only to wake up with a stiff neck the next day.

"I'll try anyway. I'll let you know if I find something."

With that, he ended the call, grabbed his handbag, and wove his way through the throng of frustrated passengers.

The rain was falling in thick sheets when Charles finally stepped outside. A long line of people was waiting for taxis, but by some stroke of luck, he managed to flag one down before anyone else could.

Just as he was about to get in, the taxi driver rolled down the window.

"Sir, with this weather, there are very few taxis. I have to ask you to share if possible."

Charles frowned, about to refuse. But then he noticed a woman standing nearby, hugging herself to keep warm. Her dark coat was drenched from the rain, and though she wasn’t looking in his direction, it was obvious she was trying—unsuccessfully—to get a taxi.

For some reason, without overthinking it, Charles approached her.

"Excuse me, would you mind sharing a taxi? It’s just me—there’s room for both of us."

"Oh! Thank you, really. I was starting to think I'd shrivel up like a raisin in this rain."

Charles was caught off guard by how casually she spoke to him—the way she smiled at him so effortlessly. When she slid into the car, she gave her head a small shake, sending droplets of rain scattering from her hair.

"Thanks," she said again, not looking directly at him as she shut the door.

Charles gave a small nod, sneaking a glance at her as the taxi pulled away.

Minutes passed, and the taxi crawled through the rain-slicked streets of Paris. Droplets trickled down the windows in twisted streams, distorting the city lights outside. The driver, an older man wrapped in a thick coat, muttered in French about the traffic and the terrible weather, though neither passenger paid much attention. Now and then, the windshield lit up with the glow of a red traffic light or the headlights of another car passing too close. But inside the taxi, the quiet remained.

Charles leaned an elbow against the window, tapping his fingers absently against his knee. He stole another glance at his companion. Her profile was softly illuminated by the streetlights, and there was something about her expression—the way she watched the rain outside with a faint smile—that intrigued him. She didn’t seem annoyed by the delay or the storm, but rather… curious.

The taxi stopped at a red light, and for a moment, everything was still except for the relentless drumming of the rain. Charles took a slow breath and turned his head slightly as if about to say something—but he hesitated. He didn’t want to break the fragile bubble that surrounded them.

Finally, she was the first to speak, her voice soft but tinged with amusement.

"Did you expect your night to end like this?"

Charles let out a short laugh, still watching the fogged-up glass.

"Definitely not. But I should probably be used to last-minute changes by now."

She nodded, crossing her legs with an air of calm, as if the delay and uncertainty didn’t bother her in the slightest.

"Airports have a funny way of reminding us that, in the end, we’re not in control of much at all."

Charles turned to look at her more closely. There was something about her tone, the way she said it, that made him wonder how many canceled flights, how many changes of direction she had experienced in her life.

Another silence stretched between them as the taxi moved slowly down the avenue. Through the rain-streaked window, the Eiffel Tower loomed in the distance—a hazy reminder of the city they were stranded in.

"Where are you headed?" Charles finally asked.

She blinked, as if she had almost forgotten her own destination.

"I don’t know," she admitted with a small shrug. "My flight was canceled too, so I was going to find a hotel, but it looks like I’m out of luck."

"Yeah, same here," Charles replied, letting out another quiet laugh. "I didn’t plan on spending the night in the airport, but right now, I don’t have a better plan."

The taxi turned onto a narrower street, where the lamplights cast long shadows over the wet cobblestones. Outside, the city carried on, indifferent to their uncertainty.

She rested her forehead against the window for a few seconds before speaking again.

"Paris is different when it rains. Less perfect. More real."

Charles raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the comment.

"I never thought of it that way."

She turned her head then, meeting his gaze for the first time, her eyes catching the reflected glow of the streetlights.

"Maybe it’s because we always see it in postcards, with clear skies and golden lights. But like this… with the rain and the cold, it feels more honest."

Charles didn’t respond right away. There was something about her words that resonated with him, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint why. He watched the city through the window, allowing himself to see what she saw.

The taxi slowed again, and after a few moments of silence, she leaned slightly toward him, a thoughtful expression crossing her face.

"What if, instead of looking for a hotel, we take a walk?" she suggested, her tone more contemplative than impulsive.

Charles looked at her in surprise, then glanced at the rain pouring outside.

"Walk?" he repeated, as if needing to process it.

She smiled, a playful glint in her eyes.

"It’s not every day you get to see Paris with empty streets and no rush. Just for a while. No maps, no plans."

Charles exhaled lightly before nodding.

"I suppose there’s nothing better to do."

She chuckled softly, handed the driver a bill, thanking him in carefully practiced French, and without another word, opened the taxi door and stepped out. Charles followed her, letting the door close behind them.

The rain greeted them with a fresh chill, and the city stretched before them, waiting to be explored.

Charles reached into his jacket and pulled out a tiny umbrella, opening it swiftly. It wasn’t big enough to fully cover them both, so they had to huddle closer under the dark fabric. At first, they tried to keep a respectful distance, but the wind and the angle of the rain inevitably made their shoulders brush.

“I didn’t think we’d have to share an umbrella,” she remarked with a playful smile.

“Me neither,” Charles admitted, adjusting the umbrella’s position to shield her better. “But I guess it’s better than nothing.”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, amused by his attempt to keep them dry as the rain persisted. With each step, the rain-soaked city felt more intimate, more theirs, as Paris continued revealing its secrets beneath the storm.

After a few minutes of aimless wandering, they stumbled upon a small bar, its warm lights glowing invitingly, the soft sound of a saxophone drifting through the slightly open door. They exchanged a glance before stepping inside, shaking the moisture from their clothes.

The interior was cozy, with wooden tables and a small stage where a jazz band played live. They settled into a quiet corner, ordering two glasses of red wine. The warmth of the place contrasted with the cold outside, and conversation began to flow more easily as the music wrapped around them.

“I definitely didn’t expect my night to end like this,” Charles mused, staring into his glass before looking at her with a faint smile.

She swirled the wine in her hand, thoughtful.

“Sometimes, the best nights are the ones we don’t plan.”

The wine softened the edges of time. The band kept playing, the saxophone weaving notes through the air, slipping between them effortlessly. Their conversation moved with the same natural ease, as if they had forgotten what time it was.

Charles watched her from across the table, his elbow propped up, fingers idly turning his glass. He was completely captivated. There was something about the way she spoke, how she tilted her head when listening, how she filled silences without fearing them.

“So, you don’t like planning too much,” he observed, a half-smile playing on his lips.

She shrugged.

“Let’s just say I make plans, but I don’t mind changing them if something better comes along.”

Charles raised an eyebrow.

“And how do you decide what’s ‘something better’?”

“Sorry.” She smiled, feigning an apology. “That’s a secret.”

Charles chuckled, shaking his head as he brought his glass to his lips.

“You’re hard to read.”

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand.

“Does that bother you?”

“It intrigues me,” he admitted, feeling the warmth of the wine mix with something deeper inside him. “I’m used to figuring people out pretty quickly.”

“Why?”

“Because in my world, reactions are everything. If you can predict what someone will do, you have the upper hand.”

She studied him in silence for a moment.

“That must be exhausting.”

Charles tilted his head.

“What?”

“Always analyzing everything.”

He let out a short breath, glancing down at his glass.

“I don’t know if I can turn it off.”

“Maybe tonight, you could try.”

She held his gaze with a subtle challenge, and Charles felt something inside him tighten, like a spring coiling. He let out a low laugh, not looking away.

“And what do you suggest?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she raised her glass and clinked it gently against his.

“To welcomed chaos,” she toasted.

Charles mirrored her, still watching her closely.

“To welcomed chaos.”

They drank together, the warm wine sliding down their throats. The music shifted, deeper, more intimate. Charles set his glass down and leaned back against the seat, studying her in the dim, flickering light.

“If you don’t like planning too much…” he said after a moment, “what’s the most impulsive thing you’ve ever done?”

She narrowed her eyes, thinking.

“Probably this.”

Charles let out a surprised chuckle.

“Going out to explore Paris with me?”

“Mhm.” She held his gaze with a playful glint. “And you?”

Charles tapped his fingers against the table.

“Maybe this too.”

“Wow.” She bit her lip, thoughtful. “I guess that makes us partners in crime.”

Charles rested his elbow on the table, leaning in slightly.

“Partners in crime for what?”

“For the idea that tomorrow, we could go back to our lives as if tonight never happened.”

The words lingered between them. Charles felt the weight of them, and for the first time in a long while, he realized he didn’t want something to simply disappear with the morning.

The alcohol made everything feel more real, more tangible. Or maybe it wasn’t the alcohol. Maybe it was her.

Charles nodded, a vague sense creeping in that whatever was happening between them wasn’t something that could easily be replicated. Paris, the rain, the spontaneity of the night—it all felt like it was stitched together with fragile thread, as if by dawn, the magic would unravel, and the city would return them to their separate realities.

But for now, they still had Paris.

Outside the bar, the rain was still falling, a steady whisper against the rooftops.

Charles opened his small umbrella, instinctively tilting it toward her, making sure she was covered more than him. She hesitated for just a second before stepping closer and, in a subtle motion, hooked her arm through his to stay as close as possible.

Charles felt the warmth of her body against his, the soft brush of her coat against his arm. He didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t stop a small smile from forming.

“Better this way,” she murmured.

“No doubt,” he replied, his voice lower than necessary, as if the rain had wrapped them in their own little world.

They walked without rush, the cobblestones glistening under the streetlights. They had no real destination, but Paris had a way of leading people to unexpected places.

“You never asked my name,” she noted after a while.

Charles glanced at her.

“You didn’t ask mine either.”

“No.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, but rather charged with something else… something Charles chose not to define.

“Do you prefer it this way?” he asked.

“Sometimes it’s nice to talk to someone without knowing who they are.”

He nodded, as if he understood exactly what she meant. And he did. For years, he had been “Charles Leclerc, Formula 1 driver.” Never just “Charles.”

“And what do you do when you’re not walking around Paris with strangers?” he asked, his tone lighter.

She let out a soft laugh.

“I travel a lot. Too much, I’d say.”

“For work?”

“Mhm.”

Charles didn’t press, but he watched her with curiosity.

“Do you like it?”

She hesitated before answering.

“Yes. Sometimes it’s exhausting, but… I don’t know how to do anything else.”

Charles understood that better than he should.

“Then it must be something you love.”

“It is. And you? Do you love what you do?”

Charles let out a quiet chuckle.

“I can’t imagine my life without it.”

She tilted her head, studying him.

“Then you’re one of the lucky ones.”

Charles wanted to ask her more, but before he could, they reached the edge of the Seine.

Before them, the Eiffel Tower loomed through the misty rain, its lights shimmering over the river.

“I guess it was inevitable we’d end up here,” she murmured, a half-smile playing on her lips.

Charles didn’t look at the tower, or the Seine, or the city. He looked at her.

“I guess so.”

She noticed his gaze and held it, unwavering.

The rain kept falling around them, but Charles barely felt it.

He didn’t know how long they stood there before she finally looked away, her eyes drifting to the water.

“You know, I like playing the piano when it rains.”

The confession slipped out, and Charles latched onto it like a puzzle piece.

“You play?”

“Mhm.”

“Professionally?”

“Too many details.”

“Right.”

She shot him a playful smile.

“And you? Do you have something you can’t stop doing?”

Charles smiled, because the answer was obvious.

But he didn’t say it.

Instead, he looked at the Eiffel Tower, the rain sketching shadows over the city lights, and thought that for the first time in a long while, his world didn’t revolve around a racetrack.

Not tonight.

“I suppose that’ll remain another mystery,” he said, still watching her.

She just laughed, letting the silence say the rest.

The air grew cooler as the night went on. The rain had left a damp sheen on the streets, and Charles’ umbrella remained their shared refuge as they wandered aimlessly.

"If you could play anywhere in the world, where would it be?" Charles asked, watching her with genuine curiosity.

She took her time to answer, as if she had never stopped to think about it before.

"At home," she finally said with a slight smile. "Not in a grand theater, not on a stage in front of thousands. Just at home, on a night like this, with the rain in the background."

Charles nodded slowly, as if he understood exactly what she meant.

"And you?" she asked then, turning toward him. "If you could do what you love anywhere, without anyone watching… where would it be?"

The question caught him off guard. He hadn't expected her to turn it back on him, let alone with such precision.

Charles remained silent for a moment, his gaze drifting past her to the city lights reflecting on the water.

"In Monaco," he said at last, his voice softer now. "In an old car, just for fun. No timers, no pressure, nothing at stake."

A quiet chuckle left her lips, the sound warm against the cool air.

"So, you're a driver."

Charles grinned, turning back to her with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"I never said that."

She tilted her head slightly, studying him, amused.

"You didn’t have to."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The rain had softened to a mist, the city humming around them. Charles wondered if she had pieced together who he was, or if she was simply playing along. Either way, it didn’t matter.

Tonight, he wasn’t Charles Leclerc, the Formula 1 driver.

Tonight, he was just a man walking through Paris in the rain, standing beside someone who made the world feel a little quieter.

They kept walking until they reached a small overlook with a view of the city. The lights shimmered over the water, reflecting in golden and bluish hues.

"This place is beautiful," Charles said quietly.

"Paris always is," she replied.

She leaned against the railing, letting the night breeze tousle her hair. Charles glanced at her from the corner of his eye, noticing how the city suited her, like a stage built just for her. There was something about her that pulled him in, in a way he didn’t quite understand.

"Do you ever get scared?" he asked suddenly.

She turned her head toward him, caught off guard by the question.

"Of course," she said after a moment. "Who doesn’t?"

"You seem like someone who never allows herself to doubt."

She let out a soft laugh.

"Doubt and fear aren’t the same thing."

Charles frowned slightly, intrigued.

"Explain."

She turned, resting her back against the railing, meeting his gaze directly.

"Fear is inevitable. It’s a reflex, something you feel before you even have a choice. Doubt, on the other hand, is a decision."

Charles looked at her in silence, letting her words settle in his mind.

"So, you never doubt?"

"I doubt all the time. But only about things I know I can control."

Charles smiled, finding something unexpectedly familiar in her answer.

"You’re different from what I imagined when I saw you drenched at the airport."

She raised an eyebrow.

"And what did you imagine?"

"Someone more... distant. More unreachable."

She tilted her head, amused.

"Maybe I am."

Charles shook his head, his smile curving with a hint of mischief.

"No, you’re not."

A brief silence settled between them. The kind that wasn’t uncomfortable, but rather left room for something else. Something unspoken lingering in the air between them.

The rain had stopped completely. Charles closed the umbrella and rested it against the railing, but she didn’t step away. She remained close, arms crossed over her chest, her expression caught between caution and the desire to keep exploring this conversation.

"It’s late," she murmured finally.

"It is," Charles agreed, yet neither of them moved.

The reflection of the city lights in her eyes gave them a special glow, and in that moment, Charles knew he wanted to keep listening to her. He wanted to keep deciphering what lay behind her gaze, behind her calculated words, behind the way she observed the world as if she saw stories in every corner.

"Should we head back?" she asked, still not moving.

Charles held her gaze for a long second.

"Or we could keep walking."

She let out a soft laugh but didn’t answer right away.

And Charles waited, unhurried.

For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t in a hurry at all.

She looked at him with a mix of curiosity and something deeper, something Charles couldn’t quite decipher. The night breeze carried the distant echo of a street song, the sound of a guitar and a raspy voice singing in French.

"Let’s keep walking," she said at last.

And Charles smiled.

They walked without a clear destination, simply letting the city guide them. Their conversation slowed, becoming more intimate, as if they no longer felt the need to fill every pause with words. They talked about their travels, about the places they had always wanted to visit. Charles mentioned Monaco and his love for the sea. She spoke of Vienna and the magic of visiting the Musikverein, though she didn’t reveal she had once stood on that stage as a performer.

They passed through cobbled streets, by cafés that were closed for the night, through plazas where lamplights cast long shadows. Eventually, they found themselves by the Seine again. Charles stopped and rested his hands on the railing.

"You know what’s the strangest thing about tonight?" he asked.

She leaned beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.

"Tell me."

"That I know this wouldn’t have happened at any other point in my life."

She turned her head toward him, intrigued.

"Why do you say that?"

Charles looked at the water, considering how to put it into words.

"Because I always have a plan, a schedule, somewhere to be. I don’t miss flights. I don’t allow myself to miss them."

"And yet, here you are."

Charles met her gaze, finding an unspoken challenge in her expression.

"Yeah," he admitted quietly. "Here I am."

The streetlights cast golden reflections in her hair. Charles felt his heart beat a little faster when she held his gaze without looking away, as if measuring the distance between them.

And then, without another word, she stepped closer.

He met her without hesitation.

The kiss was slow at first, almost exploratory, as if neither wanted to break the magic that had led them here. But when their lips parted just slightly, hovering between continuing or stopping, Charles made the decision for both of them and kissed her again.

This time, there was no hesitation.

It felt like the inevitable conclusion to a night that had never been a coincidence. Like a story already written, waiting to be lived.

When they pulled apart, she let out a soft, amused laugh, resting her forehead against his shoulder for a moment.

"You really shouldn’t miss flights," she murmured.

Charles smiled, his fingers intertwining with hers in an almost unconscious gesture.

"Maybe I should miss them more often."

The city kept glowing around them, indifferent to the story that had unfolded between them in a single night. It didn’t matter if, by daylight, they would return to being strangers with separate lives.

Because tonight, Paris belonged to them.

The rain was falling again over Paris when they entered the hotel room. The dim glow of the streetlights filtered through the curtains, painting golden shadows on the walls. They didn’t speak much as they crossed the threshold, but words weren’t necessary. Charles set the umbrella aside, shaking the water from his jacket, while she took a few steps forward, gazing out the window as if trying to etch the image of the rain-soaked city into her memory—still alive in the early morning hours.

The air between them was thick, charged with something that went beyond desire. It wasn’t just the pull of a fleeting night; it was the feeling of having stumbled upon something ephemeral and yet impossible to ignore. Charles approached her slowly, resting a hand on the window frame beside her. He said nothing—just looked at her, as if making sure she was really there, that the rain hadn’t blurred her into a fleeting illusion.

She was the one to close the distance, turning just enough to meet his gaze, lifting a hand to trace the line of his jaw with her fingertips, as if committing him to memory through touch. Charles closed his eyes for a brief moment, leaning into her caress, and then, whatever lingering doubt had remained between them dissolved completely.

The first kiss inside the room was different from the one they had shared under the rain. Slower, more deliberate. As if they both knew they were standing at the edge of something irreversible. Charles held her by the waist, guiding her gently, letting the softness of his lips speak for him. She let herself be drawn in, threading her fingers through his damp hair, feeling the way their bodies recognized each other in the dim light.

Their wet clothes fell away naturally, unhurriedly. Their skin met in the warm darkness of the room, exploring with the reverence of two strangers who, for one night, had decided to forget everything that existed outside those four walls. There were no questions, no promises. Only the silent language of fingers tracing invisible paths over bare skin, of breathless sighs, of heartbeats finding rhythm in the intimacy of a Parisian night.

When dawn began to timidly peek through the windows, Charles felt the weight of exhaustion settle over his body—but there was something else, something light and indescribable, lingering between exhilaration and peace. He drifted off with the certainty that she would still be there when he woke up, that when he opened his eyes, he would find her beside him, her head resting on his pillow, her lips still curled in a sleepy smile.

But when the golden sunlight finally filled the room, Charles woke up alone.

There was no trace of her. The space beside him in bed was empty, the sheets cool to the touch. No note, no lingering perfume to mark her presence. As if she had never been there at all.

For a moment, he lay in silence, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the absence. Then, he exhaled slowly, letting his head sink back into the pillow, closing his eyes.

Paris had been a dream. And she, its most unforgettable mystery.

Life went on.

Charles returned to his routine of constant travel, to circuits repeating in an endless cycle. The adrenaline of Formula 1 filled his days, and on the surface, everything seemed the same.

But when it rained…

When it rained, something in him stopped.

The sound of raindrops against the windows of his hotel in any city in the world immediately transported him back to that night in Paris. To her laughter under the umbrella. To the way her hand had slid into his without thinking too much about it. To the warmth of her lips in the early morning hours.

They didn’t speak. They never exchanged names or numbers.

And yet, she had never stopped being there.

On the other side of Europe, in a different city every week, she lived a similar story. Her days were marked by rehearsals, by packed auditoriums, by the perfection of every note played on her piano. The life of a solo concert pianist allowed no respite.

But when it rained…

When it rained, her hands hovered over the keys a second longer than usual.

Thinking about the only time she had felt that a night needed no music other than the sound of the city and the voice of a stranger.

Zandvoort – Dutch Grand Prix

It was just another night in Zandvoort, after a day of practice sessions. Charles was leaving the paddock, his mind still occupied with strategies and lap times. The hotel wasn’t far, so he decided to walk instead of waiting for the team car.

That’s when he saw her.

Or rather, he saw her image on a poster, in the middle of one of the city’s avenues.

Not her name. Not a grand advertisement.

Just her face, in a black-and-white photograph, with a piano slightly blurred in the background.

The name of the concert hall and the time.

That was all he needed.

By the time Charles arrived at the theater in the center of Amsterdam, the rain had already begun to fall. He shook the water from his hair before entering and bought a ticket at the entrance without even asking how full the venue was. He just needed to see her, to make sure he hadn’t imagined everything.

The concert had already started when he found his seat.

The stage was elegant yet simple. A black grand piano occupied the center, illuminated by a single beam of light. And there she was.

Charles held his breath.

There was no doubt. It was her.

The pianist’s fingers glided over the keys with hypnotic mastery. She played with her eyes closed, completely immersed in the melody, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

And yet, when the piece ended, she opened her eyes and looked at the audience.

And she saw him.

There, among hundreds of strangers, was the guy from Paris. Soaked from the rain, his heart pounding in his chest.

The seconds stretched into eternity.

And then, she smiled.

A small smile, almost imperceptible.

But enough.

Charles remained in his seat even as the rest of the audience began to rise and leave the theater. He rubbed his face, trying to gather his thoughts. What was he supposed to do now?

When he finally stood up, he searched for her. She wasn’t on stage. She wasn’t in the hall. He rushed toward the theater exit, weaving through the lobby in the hope of spotting her in the crowd. But there was no trace of her.

He discreetly asked a staff member, but the response was simple and disappointing: She left right away, she had another engagement tonight.

Charles exhaled, frustrated. He hadn’t thought about what would happen next, but part of him had assumed he would see her, that they would talk. But no, the mysterious pianist was already gone.

He stepped out of the theater and into the rain, light but persistent. Pulling up the collar of his jacket, he buried his hands in his pockets and walked back to his hotel in silence. Tomorrow, he had to focus on the race, on the championship.

But for the first time in a long while, Formula 1 wasn’t the only thing on his mind.

She had wanted to go out after the concert, to breathe in the Amsterdam night air and lose herself in the city. But Marie, her assistant, had other plans for her.

"The gala is in twenty minutes. You need to be there, you know that."

"Marie…" she tried to protest.

"No excuses. The sponsors expect to see you. And we can’t afford for you to seem distracted."

She sighed, with no choice but to comply.

An hour later, with a glass of wine in hand and a rehearsed smile on her face, she listened to conversations about contracts, upcoming tours, and collaborations. But her mind was elsewhere. In the concert hall. In the eyes of the stranger who had shared that night in Paris with her.

She hadn’t recognized him at first. But something about him felt familiar.

Now that she had a moment to think, she tried to recall more details—his way of looking at her, the slight tilt of his head as he listened to her play, as if he were deciphering something.

And then, in the middle of a dull conversation about classical music and funding, she heard his name.

"I think I saw Charles Leclerc at the concert tonight."

Her attention sharpened instantly on the two people speaking nearby.

"The driver?" someone else asked.

"Yes, he was in the audience. I saw him when the hall was filling up. Pretty discreet, but it was him."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt so dumb. Of course!

Charles Leclerc, the driver.

Now everything made sense.

She felt the sudden urge to leave, to find him. But it was too late.

She forced herself to stay at the gala long enough that no one would notice her impatience, and as soon as she could, she excused herself and returned to her hotel. There, she looked up the Formula 1 calendar and bought a last-minute ticket.

Charles moved almost on autopilot through the paddock, greeting engineers, signing the occasional cap, adjusting his race suit as he walked to his garage. The constant hum of Formula 1 surrounded him—conversations, tools, roaring engines in the distance—but his mind was still trapped in the night before. In the theater. In the music. In the fleeting image of her on stage.

The fine rain had returned, a mere veil of moisture hanging in the air. He ran a hand over his neck, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had lingered since he left the concert hall.

And then he saw her.

At first, it was just a shadow in the crowd. A movement amidst the chaos of the paddock, a silhouette that didn’t quite belong in this world of fireproof suits and sponsor logos.

Then, the details.

Her hair styled elegantly, just like that night in Paris. The sunglasses that hid her expression, but not the faint curve of her lips, barely noticeable.

Time slowed.

Charles stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding. Something warm spread through him, a wave of surprise and recognition that nearly stole his breath.

It was her.

It was really her.

She stopped too.

For a moment, neither of them moved. They didn’t speak. They just looked at each other, caught in that precise moment when coincidence stopped being coincidence.

The air between them crackled with electricity, with all the words left unsaid, with all the unanswered questions.

She lowered her sunglasses slowly, letting her eyes meet his completely.

And Charles felt the ground vanish beneath his feet.

"I couldn’t leave you wondering," she murmured, her voice soft but firm, with that mischievous tone he had heard that night in Paris, under the rain.

Something clicked inside him, like the perfect note at the end of a melody.

He exhaled a quiet, incredulous laugh.

"You came to see the race."

"Or maybe I just wanted to check if you were real."

He tilted his head, studying her.

"And?" he asked, his voice lower, more intimate.

She smiled, her gaze full of secrets he had yet to decipher.

"I’m still not entirely convinced."

Charles laughed—a genuine, liberating sound.

The world around them kept moving—mechanics rushing, engines roaring, teammates watching them with evident curiosity—but for Charles, all of it faded into the background.

Because she was there.

Because against all logic, against all odds, fate had brought them back to the same place once again.

And deep down, he knew it.

Their story wasn’t over yet.

Charles still couldn’t believe she was standing there. A part of him feared she was just an illusion, that at any moment she would disappear into the paddock crowd, just like she had that night in Paris.

Yet, she kept smiling with that enigmatic calm, as if this were nothing more than a coincidence and not some invisible force pulling them back together.

Charles wetted his lips, feeling the urgent need to make sure that this time, she wouldn’t slip away before he could reach her.

"Stay," he said, without thinking too much. His voice was lower, more personal. "After the race. Don’t leave without saying goodbye… like in Paris."

She blinked, surprised by his request. Then, she tilted her head slightly, wearing that same mischievous expression he remembered.

"I don’t usually repeat the same trick twice."

Charles let out a brief, almost relieved laugh.

"I’m glad to hear that."

She turned her head a little, letting the humid breeze ruffle a few loose strands of her hair. Looking up, she watched the cloudy sky and the fine drizzle falling over them.

"It’s raining again," she murmured. "Seems like fate has a peculiar sense of humor."

Charles studied her, his smile softening.

"Or maybe the rain is a sign."

She looked at him then, her eyes meeting his with silent intensity.

The sounds of the paddock still buzzed around them, the race loomed on the horizon, but for a moment, it was just the two of them, standing under the drizzle, in a world where coincidences no longer felt like coincidences.

"Then, I’ll see you after the race, pianist." Charles' voice dropped a note, testing the nickname with satisfaction.

She let out a small laugh, stepping back before turning gracefully.

"See you after the race, driver."

And with that, she disappeared into the crowd.

But this time, Charles knew it wasn’t a goodbye.

[h4nj1sunggg]

Hii I love your fics so much

Can you do an idol lino fwb fic where maybe yn falls for him ajdjfhdjs GONNA GO INSANE CUZ IMAGINE HIM FALLING HARD TOO AND HE'S IN DENIAL AS FUCK

Anyway keep slaying, your writing is so good!!

omg hi anon thank you for your request (totally not expecting it #denial) aniwayz this is for ya :)) so sorry for being late!!

pairing: idol!lee minho x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, angst, fwb to lovers

words: 2.6 k summary: you run to him, every single time.

ᯓᡣ𐭩　  ( masterlist )  .

warnings: oral (f), p in v, soft dom Minho, dirty talks, breeding, unprotected sex (don't be silly pls) .

You should have known better.

Because rules meant nothing when he held you like this. When his voice was the first thing you heard in the morning, raspy and laced with something unspoken. When his fingers traced patterns on your bare skin, absentminded, like he wanted to memorize you.

You were supposed to be just friends with benefits—nothing more.

It was easier to pretend nothing had changed when Minho was gone. When he was on stage, an idol in the spotlight, untouchable.

You watched him from the screen in your dimly lit apartment, his movements sharp and precise, his voice smooth and captivating. The fans screamed his name, reaching for him like he was something divine. And maybe he was.

But in the quiet of your room, he was just Minho. The man who snuck in through your window when schedules got too overwhelming. The man who kissed your shoulder in the dark, murmuring, "Just five more minutes," before he inevitably had to leave. The man who made you feel like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t the only one breaking the rules.

Your phone buzzed.

[Minho]: "Leaving the venue soon. Can I come over?"

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

You should have said no.

But you never did.

               ⠀⠀                   ⠀⠀              - ۶ৎ -

The first time you met Lee Minho, you were just another face in a crowded backstage event, trying to blend into the background. You had no intention of catching anyone’s attention—especially not his.

But Minho had a way of noticing things.

"You look bored," he had said, sliding into the empty seat beside you. His voice carried a teasing lilt, his sharp eyes scanning you with curiosity.

You blinked, caught off guard. "I—uh, just not used to all this."

"All this?" He gestured vaguely to the chaos of idols, managers, and staff flitting around the room. "Yeah, it’s a lot. But you don’t seem like the type to be easily overwhelmed."

You scoffed, crossing your arms. "And what type do I seem like?"

Minho smirked, tilting his head. "The type that likes to pretend she’s unaffected when she’s actually observing everything."

It was unsettling how quickly he had read you, but before you could fire back, someone called his name, pulling him away.

You thought that was the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

The next time you ran into him, it was at a late-night convenience store, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over the nearly empty aisles. You were exhausted, craving something to take the edge off your day. Minho, dressed in a hoodie and cap pulled low, was scanning the instant ramen section like it held the answers to life’s problems.

You almost walked past him. Almost. But he glanced up, catching your eye before you could slip away. "You again."

You hesitated. "Me again."

Minho’s lips curled into that signature smirk, a glint of amusement in his gaze. "So, do you always lurk in convenience stores at ungodly hours, or is this a special occasion?"

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a bottle of iced coffee from the fridge. "Rough day."

He hummed in understanding, reaching for a pack of ramen. "Wanna take your mind off it?"

Your fingers tightened around the bottle. It was a simple question, lighthearted, almost playful. But something in his tone made it feel like more. Like an invitation.

And maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the way Minho looked at you—like he already knew you were going to say yes. So you did.

And that was how it started.

When you arrived, Minho open the entrance of his apartment building, hands in his pockets, watching you with an unreadable expression.

Minho tilted his head, his smirk barely visible under the streetlights. "You coming up or not?"

You followed him without question.

The elevator ride was silent, heavy with something unspoken. When the doors slid open, he led you inside his apartment—a sleek, modern space that felt distinctly his. Minho locked the door behind you, turning to face you with something almost hesitant in his gaze.

"Make yourself comfortable," he murmured, voice softer than usual.

And for the first time, you wondered—was this really just about taking your mind off things?

Minho leans against the doorframe, his gaze raking over your curves as you approach his apartment. A smirk plays on his lips, knowing exactly what he has in store for you tonight.

"Y/n, you look even more ravishing than I remembered," he purrs, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. "Come inside, I've got something special planned to help you relax and forget all your troubles."

Minho's hands find your hips, pulling you close as he kicks the door shut behind you. "I've been thinking about you non-stop since our last encounter," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear.

"I'm going to make you feel so good, you'll forget your own name." His lips brush against your neck, placing gentle kisses along your jawline.

Your heart races as Minho's strong arms envelop you, his touch igniting a fire within. A soft gasp escapes your lips as his kisses trail along your sensitive skin.

"Minho..." you breathe, your voice trembling with anticipation. You press yourself closer, craving more of his touch. Your fingers intertwine with his hair, pulling him even tighter against you.

Minho growls softly, the sound vibrating against your neck. His hands roam your body possessively, squeezing your curves through the fabric of your clothes. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim you.

Minho breaks the kiss, leaving you breathless and wanting more. He takes your hand and leads you towards his bedroom, his eyes never leaving yours. The air crackles with tension as you step inside, the large bed dominating the room.

"I want you naked," he commands, his voice low and authoritative. "Slowly. Let me admire you."

He sits on the edge of the bed, watching you intently. His gaze burns with desire, promising untold pleasures. Your fingers tremble slightly as you begin to undress, revealing your curves inch by inch. Minho's eyes darken with lust, his pupils dilating as he takes in the sight of your bare skin.

Once you're fully naked, he stands and begins to remove his own clothes, his movements deliberate and teasing. "Lie on the bed," he orders, his voice thick with desire. "Spread your legs for me. I want to see how wet you are."

You comply with Minho's command, lying back on the soft sheets and spreading your legs wide. The cool air kisses your heated skin, making your nipples harden. Minho's gaze lingers on your exposed center, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Fuck, you're already so wet," he murmurs, stepping closer to the bed. He kneels between your legs, his broad shoulders pushing your thighs further apart. "I'm going to devour this pretty pussy until you're begging for my cock."

Minho leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive folds. He inhales deeply, savouring your scent. "You smell divine," he growls, before diving in and flattening his tongue against your slit.

He licks a slow, deliberate path from your entrance to your clit, gathering your juices on his tongue. "Mmm, and you taste even better." Your moans fills the room, your back arch as the feeling of his wet and warm tongue hits you as waves of pleasure.

Minho settles in, his face buried between your legs as he feasts on your pussy. His tongue explores every inch of you, delving deep into your entrance before swirling around your clit.

He sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you arch off the bed. "Ahh, Minho!" you cry out, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.

He responds by redoubling his efforts, his tongue moving at a frantic pace. "That's it, baby," he murmurs against your flesh. "Let me hear you."

One of his hands slides up your body, palming your breast and pinching your nipple. The dual stimulation sends shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your hips buck against his face, seeking more friction.

Minho's other hand moves to your hip, holding you in place as he ravishes your pussy. His fingers dig into your soft flesh, leaving bruises that will serve as a reminder of this encounter.

He slides two digits into your soaked entrance, curling them upwards to hit that sweet spot inside you. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice muffled by your folds.

"I can't wait to feel this pussy gripping my cock."

He pumps his fingers in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue on your clit. The combination of sensations is overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your inner walls clench around his invading digits, your body desperate for release. "Minho, fuck- Minho! I'm gonna... I'm gonna come!" you shout, your back bowing off the bed. "Do it," he encourages, his fingers moving faster.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with pleasure. Minho doesn't let up, continuing to lick and suck at your sensitive clit, drawing out your climax. He laps up your release, savoring your taste as you ride out the aftershocks.

"That's my girl," he praises, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. "You came so beautifully for me." As you catch your breath, Minho crawls up your body, his muscular frame hovering over you.

His hard cock presses against your stomach, leaving a trail of pre-cum on your skin. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he declares, his voice rough with desire. "I'm going to fill this tight little pussy with my cock and make you scream my name again."

Minho reaches between your bodies, gripping his thick shaft and positioning it at your entrance. He teases you, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices.

Your hips lift, seeking more contact, but he pulls back, denying you. "Patience, baby," he chuckles darkly. "I'm going to take my time with you." With a swift thrust, he buries himself balls-deep inside you.

"ah! fuck!" A low groan escapes his lips as your walls stretch to accommodate his size. He pauses, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he breathes, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight and wet, like you were made for me." Slowly, he begins to move, pulling out until only the tip remains before sliding back in. His pace is deliberate, each thrust hitting your deepest spots.

As Minho picks up the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. His hips snap forward, driving his cock deep into your core with each thrust.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, desperate to feel every inch of him. "Harder," you pant, your nails digging into his back. "Fuck me harder, Minho!" He obliges, his movements becoming more forceful and erratic.

The bed creaks beneath you, threatening to break under the intensity of your lovemaking. Minho's hand slides between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing it in tight circles. "Come for me again," he demands, his voice strained, almost begging for it.

"I want to feel you squeeze my cock as you come undone." Your body responds to his touch, the coil of pleasure tightening in your belly. You're close, so close to another explosive orgasm.

Minho leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he continues to pound into you. His tongue dominates your mouth, mirroring the dominance of his hips. The combination of sensations is overwhelming, pushing you over the edge.

Your inner walls clamp down on his cock, pulsing and contracting as you ride out your orgasm. Feeling you come undone beneath him, Minho lets out a guttural groan.

His hips stutter, his movements becoming erratic as he chases his own release. "Fuck, Y/n," he pants against your lips. "I'm gonna come. I'm gonna fill this pussy up."

With a final thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock twitching as he spills his hot seed. He stays buried within you, his body trembling with the force of his climax.

And that was the best fuck that you've ever had before.

The first of more and more to come.

               ⠀⠀                   ⠀⠀              - ۶ৎ -

You should have known better.

But every time you were with him, every time his hands were on you, your feelings grew stronger. It started as something small—a flicker of warmth in your chest when he whispered your name, a pang of longing when he left too soon.

And then it became unbearable.

You weren’t just craving his touch anymore. You were craving him. The real him. The one who lingered a little longer in your bed, tracing lazy circles on your thigh, the one who looked at you like he wanted to say something but never did.

You tried to ignore it, to convince yourself that nothing had changed. But it had.

Because every time he touched you, every time he pulled you closer, every time he kissed you like you were the only thing grounding him, you fell a little more.

You tried to ignore it, to convince yourself that nothing had changed. But it had.

Because every time he touched you, every time he pulled you closer, every time he kissed you like you were the only thing grounding him, you fell a little more.

The message came late at night, like it always did.

[Minho]: You up?

You stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You knew exactly what this was about. It was never just a casual conversation, never a simple check-in. It was an invitation. A moment later, another message popped up.

[Minho]: Come over.

No explanation, no pretense. Just a direct request, one you had already expected.

Your heart pounded, even though it shouldn’t. This was supposed to be simple—no feelings, no complications. Just sex. And yet, the way your stomach flipped every time his name lit up your phone told a different story.

You hesitated, but only for a second. Then you grabbed your keys and headed out the door.

You stood nervously in front of Minho’s apartment door, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and anticipation. You’d never been to his place before, and you weren’t entirely sure what to expect, though you had a pretty good idea. You had been friends for a while, but tonight felt different.

When you rang the doorbell, Minho opened the door almost immediately, his casual attire—just a black T-shirt and sweatpants—making him look effortlessly attractive. His expression softened when he saw you, a confident, yet inviting smile on his face.

“Hey,” he greeted, stepping aside. “I’m glad you came.”

You hesitated for a moment but then stepped in, your pulse quickening as you entered his space. His apartment had a relaxed, cozy vibe, and it felt strangely intimate already. There was a comfort in his presence, but the air felt charged with tension.

His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unrelenting. The playful spark in his eyes was replaced by something more serious, more daring.

“I want to be with you. No games, no distractions—just us, here, together.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and you felt a thrill run down your spine. You weren’t sure how you should respond—whether to give in to this moment, or hold back. But his hands were already on your waist, pulling you closer, and before you knew it, you were leaning into him.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Just… stay.”

[veilsofroses]

Hellow can I request for a jushiro x reader for the first time they have sex which jushiro initiates because they’ve been dating for a year.

Jushiro Ukitake x f!reader

warnings: MINORS DNI 18+, NSFW, smut, praise, vaginal fingering, penetration, no protection, creampie author’s note: so so sorry this took so long 💔💔💔 still enjoyed writing it tho, added a lil spin to it. this is for my ukitake lovers out there!!!!! i get it!!! word count: 2.4k

｡⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆｡

You slam the book on your lap shut with a huff. The two shinigami passing by jump, then scurry along. You had reread the same page about five times now, too lost in thought to focus so you give up. 

You stay seated for a moment, closing your eyes and dwelling on your thoughts. Tomorrow was going to be your one year anniversary with Jushiro, your loving, ever-so-sweet, captain of a boyfriend. Honestly, you really couldn’t ask for anyone better, he was the perfect man for you—kind, caring, beautiful, brave. But one thing irked you more than it should. 

He had yet to take you to bed. Sure, you’ve laid down and slept together, but never slept together, and it was really starting to hurt your pride. It made you question. Was this his way of being respectful or was there something about you-

You didn’t finish the thought. Jushiro was the perfect boyfriend in every way, there’s no reason for you to complain. In that year, he’s treated you better than you’ve been treated your entire life. But even so… 

You open your eyes, sighing rather loudly. 

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” Jushiro’s soft voice fills your ears. Your head snaps in his direction, sitting up straight in the chair you sat in. 

Jushiro approaches you, his captain’s robe flowing behind him. He wears that usual warm smile that always melts your heart. “Oh! Uh—yes, yes, I’m fine, everything’s fine,” you reassure him, waving your hand and standing from your chair, praying he doesn’t pry. 

He tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed, his long hair slipping from his shoulder. He doesn’t seem convinced, reaching out a hand towards you. You grab it before it reaches you, “I’m just hungry, that’s all,” you decide that’s the best excuse, giving him an overly wide smile. It wasn’t entirely a lie, you could eat. 

He gives you a defeated smile, grasping your other hand with his, understanding. His thumb brushes over your hand, “Alright if you say so. Let’s head to the dining hall then?” 

You give him a genuine smile, thankful he knows when to leave it alone, and nod, letting him lead you along to the hall. 

Once at the hall, food in hand, he leads you to a table where Shunsui sits with Nanao, both deep into their meals. They offer polite greetings when you sit. 

Shunsui clears his throat, “Captain Ukitake tells me tomorrow is officially your one year of being together,” he comments casually, leaning back in his seat. 

Jushiro rubs his forehead and grumbles softly, clearly a bit embarrassed Shunsui just exposed that he talks about you, though he was sure you knew that he did by now. 

You chuckle awkwardly, “Oh, yeah it is!” you say with feigned excitement. Normally you’re eager to talk about it—you love Jushiro and want everyone to know it, but you just can’t seem to muster a genuine response. You hope they don’t notice. 

Shunsui doesn’t and chuckles, continuing, “All I know is that you’re one lucky gal. He’ll tell you I was the ‘womanizer’ of the two of us but I heard tales from the girls. He’s not inno- AGH!” 

He’s cut off by Nanao smacking the back of his head with a clipboard. “Jeez,” he says, rubbing the area. “In what world is it a decent idea to tell Y/n that,” she scolds him. Jushiro sits silently, his head in his hands, questioning his choice of friendship. 

“Seems he must have wasted all his energy on those flings,” you find yourself saying, unable to catch yourself, your voice hard. 

The table goes silent, all three of them looking at you wide-eyed, caught completely off guard by your words. You can’t bear their staring any longer so you stand up, the chair scraping behind you, and you storm off, leaving your food on the table barely touched. 

Jushiro watches you march off, mouth agape, words caught in his throat. It was unusual for you to act this way.

“Trouble in paradise, huh- AGH! Again?” Shunsui looks at Nanao pleadingly. 

“Look at what you caused,” she shakes her head. 

Jushiro stares at the doorway you disappeared through before getting up and racing in the same direction without a word. 

You reach your private room, slamming the door shut behind you, and bursting into tears. You make for your bed, plopping down on the edge, your head in your hands. You made a fool of yourself, letting yourself say such a thing about the man you love, in front of his friends, on top of that. You didn’t deserve him. 

You don’t hear your door open and close quietly between your uncontrolled heaves. You only realize when a force weighs down the bed and wraps his arms firmly around you, turning your face to his. 

Worried green eyes rake over your face, “Y/n, what’s the matter?” his voice pleading, it stings your heart. Your regret for your actions deepen, you were being immature. 

No, you had a right to feel this way, but he also had the right to know why. 

You sniffle, attempting to compose yourself before you speak. He patiently wipes away your tears with a thumb, holding your face. You put your hand over his and he looks at you expectantly. 

“I just- I wish-“ you struggle to find the words but he just waits quietly, brushing a strand of tear-soaked hair out of your face. “Jushiro, why haven’t you slept with me yet?” It was a more direct approach than you anticipated to take but you suppose this got the job done. 

His eyes widen, his head jerking back slightly, clearly not expecting such a question. “Why haven’t I..” he trails off. 

You explain further, “I just.. I feel a bit.. rejected,” you look down, embarrassed at the confession. “Maybe I just haven’t been forward enough with my advances but I’ve never felt your desire to take it any further with me and it makes me question if there’s something about me that you don’t-“

He suddenly grips your shoulders, “No!” his voice desperate to prove something. 

You blink, “No?”

He also blinks and realizes how hard he’s gripping you and lets go, holding your hands instead, “I-I mean, no, of course not! I love everything about you. I’m sorry, I hadn’t realized you felt this way.” 

“Then why?” your voice cracks and that breaks something inside him. He sighs deeply, “What Shunsui said was true. I suppose I.. messed around a lot as an adolescent,” something uncomfortable stirs in your stomach at this, “but it’s for that same reason that I waited so long with you.” 

You tilt your head, “I don’t understand.” 

He puts a soft hand on your cheek but his eyes are serious, “I wanted to prove to you that I am serious about you. You’re not just another fling or something casual, I hope to spend the rest of eternity with you. I wanted you to feel respected. But it seems my foolish attempts made you feel the exact opposite,” he looks down, sighing in disappointment in himself. 

Of course, he would. You had heard from the other captains that he had matured a great deal since his youth. It made perfect sense for him to think that way. With someone like Shunsui around, it was inevitable for you to find out about his past antics, and because of that, he didn’t want you to feel like you were just another one of those girls, so he was probably waiting for you to openly say it was okay. You shake your head, you should’ve known and now you feel silly. You’re about to respond but he continues, his face flushing just enough for you to notice. “The truth is, holding back from you hasn’t been any easy feat. Now I find out you were waiting on me, and it angers me that I didn’t do this any sooner.” 

Before you can ask what he means, he pulls your lips into his, his hand firmly on the back of your neck. You yelp in surprise, your hands falling to his chest, not used to this boldness from him but you give in immediately, the built up desire from the last year finally having an outlet. 

He pushes you back against the bed, his lips never leaving yours, his long, white hair falling to your sides, caging you in. You eagerly oblige, opening your legs, the erection you hadn’t noticed brushing against you, making both of you gasp. He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyebrows furrowed and his cheeks red. “I’m so sorry, love. I never meant to make you feel unloved in any way.” 

You shake your head, putting a finger on his lips to shush him. “Enough of that. I know, Jushiro. Make it up to me now,” you smile softly but your words make his green eyes darken, lost in your gaze. He wastes no time in reconnecting your lips, this kiss much hungrier than the last. 

His hands roam your body, drinking in every curve, and you arch against him, desperate for his touch. 

He trails kisses from your mouth to your cheek, then down your jaw to your neck. You moan into his ear and feel him shiver at the sound, letting out a low groan. He grabs the collar of your uniform, pulling it off your shoulders, revealing your collarbones and bare breasts to him. 

He pulls back, unable to reel in his blatant staring. You lay there, smug, watching his face redden at the sight. “I-Is this okay?” his voice is barely a whisper, his composure gone. He brings his eyes up to yours, seeking. 

You answer by slipping your arms out of the top, your upper body now fully exposed, and by pulling his down, revealing his chiseled chest and abs. “Understood,” he breathes out, drinking you in once again before pouncing back on you. 

Despite his hurried kiss, his tongue is gentle, tracing your lips, asking for entrance, which you grant. You run your hands through his hair, tugging and pulling. He tugs at your pants and you lift your hips, allowing them to slip off easily without breaking the kiss. You do the same for him, his hard cock slapping on your stomach after being freed.

Jushiro’s skin was hot against yours, your bodies trying to feel every inch of each other. Each movement grinds his length against your stomach. 

He reaches his hand down to your thighs, squeezing and tracing his fingers along the sides of your core. Damn him. “I didn’t take you for such a tease,” you grind out in between kisses. He smiles against your mouth, brushing his fingers over your slick folds. You gasp, arching into him, your peaked nipples agonizingly rubbing against his chest. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, pushing his forehead against yours, sliding in one finger, then two. “J-Jushiro,” you moan out, his thick fingers stretching you out, preparing you for him. You feel his cock twitch. 

You grab his cock in your hand, earning a guttural moan you felt in your core, your walls swelling around his fingers gliding smoothly in and out, covered by your wetness.

You pump him slowly, Jushiro matching your pace with his fingers. His forehead on yours, he stares so intensely into your eyes, showing you all of him and trying to see all of you. 

You meet his lips once again, your pace on each other quickening. Wet sounds along with muffled moans fill your room, his fingers eventually outpacing your hand as you feel your climax approaching. 

“You’re doing so well,” he whispers gently, your hips buck against his hand and he curls his fingers inside you, reaching your release, and you scream out, high-pitched and rough. 

He hardly gives you enough time to recover when he’s already flipping you over, putting you on top of him, his hands on your waist. 

“I want to see all of you,” he tries and fails to keep a composed voice, sounding raw. You lift up from his chest, taking him in below you, his white hair splayed out, wild, and yet, he looked as beautiful as ever. You steadily hold his gaze while you lift up, lining his throbbing cock against your soaked entrance, and watch his face as you slam down, taking his full length at once. 

He cries out, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut, his eyebrows twitching. His grip on your hips tightens as you also cry out, his thick cock burying deep inside you, stretching you out more than you ever have. 

His hands offer support, helping lift you up only to push you back down, his cock filling you up with each thrust. “Oh, Y/n-” he can hardly speak with you taking him in deeper and deeper each time, your pace quickening, skin slapping against skin.

He grinds his teeth, his eyes rolling to the back of his head and his grip on your hips hard enough to bruise. But that doesn’t stop you from bouncing on him over and over. You throw your head back with a loud moan, squeezing your own tits. The sight along with your tight pussy squeezing his thick girth is enough to kill him. 

"Ah- J-Just like that-" he can hardly get the sentence out. His legs start to spasm, his hips bucking up against you, pushing his length deeper into your swollen hole, releasing broken cries. His orgasm comes rushing at him with one final thrust, and he spills everything he has into your wet pussy, lining every inch of your walls with hot cum. 

He releases your hips, his arms flopping down on the bed beside him with a thud, and you flopping down in his chest. Nothing but heavy, ragged breaths are heard, both of your hearts about to beat out of your chests. Your bodies are hot and sticky with sweat but you don’t move away from each other. 

“I’ll never forgive myself for waiting so long to do this with you,” he finally says, wrapping his arms around your back. You chuckle, lifting your head from his chest to look at him. 

“Glad you finally came to your senses,” you flick his forehead where white hair sticks to it. 

He laughs, “I deserve that.” He thinks for a moment then turns to the clock mounted on your wall. “Well, would you look at the time,” he looks back at you with soft green eyes full of nothing but adoration, “It’s midnight. Happy one year anniversary, Y/n,” he pushes his nose to nuzzle yours. 

You push further to give him a tender kiss, “Happy one year anniversary, Jushiro.” 

[the-reader-insert-gazette]

Call Me Yours- F!Reader x Shikanoin Heizou

Featured Column - Genshin Impact

Reader never called Heizou by a pet name—until she did, and now she refuses to stop. Watching her ever-unshakable detective stumble over her words? Priceless.

✒️ Word Count: 1248 🏷️ Relevant Tags: Fluff | Implied Relationship | Implied Intimacy

[Name] prided herself on keeping a straight face. It was a necessity in her line of work—reading people, staying unreadable herself. Words were currency in Inazuma’s underground, and she dealt with them well. She knew how to press buttons, how to get under someone’s skin, and, most importantly, how to hold her own against Shikanoin Heizou.

Which was exactly why she had never given him the satisfaction of a pet name.

He, on the other hand, had an endless supply for her. Some ridiculous, some infuriatingly sweet, all of them spoken with that lazy drawl that made it sound like he wasn’t trying at all. Love, sweetheart, darling, my clever little fox. Each one was delivered with ease, like he’d been calling her that his entire life.

She never returned the favor. Not once.

Until today.

They were walking through the city, Heizou’s hand lazily hooked in hers, their pace slow as they made their way through the quieter streets. He was rambling about something—probably his latest case, probably dramatized for her entertainment, but she had long since tuned him out, more focused on the warmth of his palm against hers, the way the setting sun cast a golden glow against his skin.

Then, without thinking, she said it.

“Sure thing, darling.”

Heizou tripped.

It was subtle, just the slightest hesitation in his step, a flicker of something unreadable across his usually sharp features—but [Name] felt it. She felt the way his fingers tensed around hers, the way his entire body stiffened like he’d been caught off guard.

Silence.

He slowed to a stop, turning to her with an expression that was… oddly blank. His green eyes, usually alight with mischief, were studying her with something far more calculating.

“…What did you just say?”

[Name] smirked, leaning into his space like she was perfectly innocent. “You heard me.”

A slow blink. Then, his lips parted, just slightly, before he pressed them into a thin line, his jaw shifting like he was physically restraining a reaction. “Say it again.”

She tilted her head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Hmm. No, I don’t think I will.”

Heizou exhaled sharply through his nose, and that was when she realized, he wasn’t just thrown off.

He was flustered.

Shikanoin Heizou, the same man who had teased her relentlessly, called her every endearment under the sun, whispered sweet nothings against her ear just to watch her roll her eyes—was staring at her like she had just played an unfair trick.

“You’ve never—” He shook his head, regaining his composure. “That’s the first time you’ve called me anything like that.”

[Name] hummed. “I suppose it is.”

His fingers twitched in hers. His shoulders rose, then fell, like he was forcing himself to stay relaxed. “…Why today?”

She shrugged. “Felt like it.”

Heizou narrowed his eyes, suspicion flickering across his face. Then, something softer. Something pleased. “…So you do think about it.”

“Think about what?”

He leaned in, and [Name] barely had time to react before his lips brushed against her ear, his voice low and smug. “What to call me when you finally decide you adore me.”

Her cheeks warmed before she could stop them, and Heizou immediately pulled back with a victorious grin.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” he mused, tilting his head. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you blush over something so small.”

[Name] exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

“You love me all the same though~♥”

She rolled her eyes again, tugging him forward to keep walking, but the smirk never quite left her lips.

Maybe, just maybe, she’d have to test a few more names on him.

If only to see how much further she could push him.

Over the next few days, [Name] made a game of it.

She didn’t announce it, didn’t give him any warning—just casually slipped a pet name into conversation when he least expected it.

The first few times, she tested the waters carefully. They were having breakfast together at a street stall, Heizou half-distracted by his rice bowl when she set her chopsticks down and sighed dramatically.

“Love, you’re hogging all the pickled radish.”

Heizou choked.

He reached for his tea with an unnecessary amount of focus, taking a slow sip like that would erase what just happened. When he finally looked at her, it was with something unreadable in his gaze. “Say that again.”

[Name] tilted her head, feigning innocence. “What? You are hogging it.”

“No,” he said, clearing his throat, setting his cup down. “The other part.”

She smirked. “Not my fault you weren’t listening the first time, darling.”

Heizou blinked. His lips parted slightly, just enough for her to know she’d hit something solid. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, shaking his head like he wasn’t about to let her win.

“I see,” he murmured, picking up his chopsticks. “So this is what we’re doing now.”

She just hummed, plucking a piece of radish from his bowl while he was too busy processing.

The next time, she didn’t even look at him when she said it.

They were walking through the streets, the evening air cool against her skin, when Heizou brought up something about his latest case—a suspect who had slipped through his fingers, a lead he wasn’t satisfied with.

[Name], who had been admiring the way the streetlights cast long shadows against the walls, said absently, “Don’t get too caught up in it, sweetheart.”

She felt him physically pause.

When she turned to look, he was staring at her with a half-smirk, half-expectant expression. “That one was deliberate.”

“Was it?”

“[Name], sweetheart?” He drawled the word like he was testing how it felt. “Didn’t think you had a soft spot for me.”

She kept walking, forcing herself not to let the warmth creeping up her neck show. “Maybe I just like messing with you.”

“Oh, you definitely do,” he said, recovering quickly, falling into step beside her. “But now I’m wondering, how many of these do you have planned?”

[Name] shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.”

Heizou exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Dangerous game, darling.”

She had to bite back a grin.

Oh, he had no idea.

It continued.

Some mornings, it was casual. "Morning, handsome." Other times, she used them like weapons. "You’re such a menace, baby." And when she really wanted to see him struggle? "You look good today, honey."

He never reacted the same way twice. Sometimes, he smirked and played along, sometimes he narrowed his eyes like he was trying to figure out when he had lost control of this battle.

And then there were moments, like now, where he didn’t say anything at all—just looked at her, green eyes unreadable, before dragging her into a kiss (and then some) that had her forgetting every damn pet name she had planned.

She should have seen that last one coming.

“You really started something, you know,” Heizou murmured against her skin, voice low and amused.

[Name], who was half-draped across him in the quiet of her apartment, hummed. “You love it.”

His fingers traced lazy patterns along her back. “I like hearing you call me yours most of all though.”

She paused, fingers stilling where they had been combing through his hair.

After a moment, she leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Good,” she murmured, lips brushing against his cheek. “Because I’m not stopping anytime soon, love.”

His breath hitched.

And that was when she knew she had won their little game.

Editor's Notes: Was asked to add relevant tags. I will aim to do this going forward, keeping it very high-level/general.

[immakuronaakuma]

Boy if you don’t switch that voice back-

[luna-the-cretar]

Okay, so I managed to ACTUALLY get Halsin this playthrough (thank GOD), and like, all I knew about him was that he turns into a bear and is INSATIABLY horny (also that he loves nature but like…my guys a Druid, of course he does)

But what I DIDNT know was how PRECIOUS this man is. He became a Druid because his childhood friend was the human (or whatever the fuck Thaniel is) embodiment of nature. He has a sweet tooth (which, same). HE WITTLES DUCKS. I literally verbally Aw’ed when talking to him after becoming my companion. He is absolutely adorable, even if he’s constantly dtf

[sunnycanwrite]

I'd like to apologize to no one for the fact that I will be moving underneath a table until DC stops. Like if your going to draw your characters as furries, at least pick the correct fursonas, come on

[sydmarch]

I cant believe we're probably gonna have a j2 reunion on the next season of the boys

[elliedafish]

Is this real?

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I worked at the jewelry store there was very little room to move around each other behind the cases. We managed alright but it made us pretty casual with our personal space.

At the time when I first started I was still getting used to that. One day I was shadowing someone who’d been there longer than me, a sweet young lad who I immediately clicked with. We were helping some ladies with a jewelry cleaning and I ended up on the wrong side of him to follow to our next destination, the ultrasonic cleaner.

He double backed around me behind the case and accidentally brushed my butt with the back of his hand. It was immediately clear from context that it was a complete accident.

His eyes widened in brief terror that he’d crossed a boundary. Neither of us reacted in front of the customers but we popped away a moment later into the cleaning room where they couldn’t hear us.

He grabbed my arms and stared into my eyes with panic writ large across his face. “How long do I have?!” he demanded.

“What? No- it’s fine.” I thought he meant how long until I, like, murdered him.

“No, I’m infected now, how long until it sets in?!?”

I stared at him in bafflement but started to sense a note of repressed laughter in his tone.

“I touched your butt! That’s how the gay spreads! How long until it sets in?!”

I burst out laughing and we both collapsed into absurdity. Every time I thought about it for the next week I broke down laughing, he caught me so off guard with one of the funniest gay jokes I’d ever heard.

It was several weeks afterward that he admitted to recently coming to terms with being bisexual and I tsked, “Didn’t make a full recovery from touching my butt, I see.”

[nevvdrinksteaa]

PLEASE Spencer answering a work call in the middle of sex??? Super smutty

just wanna say that this is my first request and it makes me feel special so thank you !!! hopefully you like this <3

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: 18+ nsfw smut, porn with small plot, afab reader, fingering, p in v sex, post prison spence, riding, doggy style, and missionary (yall were busy), spitting kink !!, spanking (once?), face slapping (i’m not sorry), slight oral (f receiving), lots of pet names (baby, angel, pretty girl), let me know if i missed anything !!

word count: 1.8k (got a little carried away)

also note to everyone- y’all absolutely devoured my spencer post the other day, a little less than 800 notes last i checked, and i just want to say i was very caught off guard and appreciate it so much !!

+ i apologize for the overuse of commas & very limited vocabulary,, i feel like i used the same 10 words smh

+ NOT PROOF READ !!

~~~

“i was able to talk to the brass about getting the week off. the past few weeks have been tough and i think we all need a well deserved break.”

you were all gathered in the round table room for a meeting emily called. in the past two weeks, the team had been assigned three back to back cases; which meant three different unsubs, three different cities, and three different hotel rooms. you hadn’t slept in your own bed in fifteen days, already feeling giddy at the thought of snuggling up in your bed, binge watching mindless reality tv, and fueling yourself with nothing but sweet treats.

matt was the first to speak, already standing up gathering his things from the table, “as much as i love you all i’m going to rush home to the wife and kids, i miss their little faces”

you all followed suit, collecting all of your belongings and saying your goodbyes, all of you raving about your week off plans. you walked to your desk, grabbing your bag and keys. you walked towards the elevator, pressing the down button, watching it slowly fall from floor 10 to floor 9, before tapping your foot, slightly agitated about how long it seemed to be taking.

you heard footsteps heading your way, small taps on sneakers on the slick marble floor, before felt a slight nudge at your side “you know, being mad at it won’t make it work any faster”

you chuckle looking up, making eye contact with spencer before giving him a small grin. “i’m just really ready to get home.”

the elevator doors open, spencer waved his hand up, allowing you to go first, before following you in and pressing the main lobby button. “you in such a rush because you have a hot date to get to?”

you looked up at him and grinned, you felt spencer’s hand move to your back, rubbing the center in small circles with your thumb. you felt your face get hot and you allowed yourself to slightly lean into his touch. the elevator stopped at the lobby, a small chime signaling the doors opening, and you felt spencer’s hand fall back to his side before you both stepped out of the box.

you both made your way to the parking garage, spencer walking you to your car before he headed towards the station to take the subway. you got to your car, unlocking it and throwing your purse inside before looking up at him with a slight smirk “text me when you’re on your way”

he shook his head and laughed as he gave you a small wave goodbye and headed towards the subway.

~~~

it had only been three days since you were given the week off, enjoying the company of spencer in your bed two thirds of those nights. he texted you the same night as the encounter in the parking garage, eager to see you in a private setting.

“look how pretty you look sitting on my cock”

you were straddling him, your head thrown back with both hands on his shoulders as you tried to keep a quick pace. he had his hands pressed deep into your hips, helping you move in a fluid motion. you felt him hit your sweet spot every time you made your way down, letting out tiny whimpers at the feeling.

“i love when you use me like this, getting yourself off like a good girl”

you couldn’t hold in the loud moan you had been holding, feeling your stomach flutter at his words. you felt a slight burning in your thighs and you knew spencer’s shoulders held tiny crescent shapes from how tight your grip had become. you felt one of spencer’s hands move to your clit, rubbing small circles on the bundle of nerves.

he grabbed your chin, making you look him in the eyes. you looked at him and grinned, fucked out and eager before you felt a sudden surge against your cheek before he let his hand rest there, rubbing his thumb to ease the pain.

“you gonna cum for me angel?”

“fuck- yes spence, i’m so- so close” you couldn’t even hear the words coming out of your mouth, your heartbeat beating so loud your hearing going out.

you moved your head down pushing your forehead to spencer’s with your eyes tight.

“cum for me baby, wanna feel you tighten around my cock.”

you felt that tight feeling in your stomach, the mix of his skilled fingers and his thick cock rubbing against your walls caused your breath to stop in your throat, your release making you see stars. you stopped your movement, breathing heavily as you leaned down into spencer. you felt soft kisses on your head and face, peppering you all over.

“did so good for me baby, love watching you use me”

you smiled against his neck, starting to do your own kissing. you felt his breath hitch when you found the sweet spot behind his ear, the small mole behind it always guiding you to the exact spot. you took your time, sucking and biting at the spot, grinding your hips, ready to keep going.

spencer gave your thigh a quick tap, before telling you to bend over. you were quick to roll over, propping yourself up on your hands and knees before slowly wiggling yourself back and forth to him.

you felt a sharp pain on your ass, a slight stinging feeling before you felt a tight grip run through your hair. you felt your body being pulled tightly to his, his chest flushed against your back. he moved one of his hands to your chest, a his fingers glazing your nipple, his other moving to your neck, pushing his thumb and middle finger to just the right spot to apply pressure.

“i let you use me, now it’s my turn to use you angel” spencer had leaned down to your ear, kissing your jaw before pushing you back down onto the bed.

spencer leaned down slightly, gripping your ass with both hands before spreading them. he let a trail of spit fall to your eager hole, before he rubbed it onto your pussy, giving your clit extra attention.

you moaned and pushed back into his touch before you felt him enter you quick and unforgiving, your ass jiggling with every move of his hips.

“fuck- so fucking deep” you arched your back, begging your body to somehow take him deeper. you felt his firm calloused hands rub against your back before settling into a position on your hips, his thumbs pressing small bruises into your skin.

“taking me so fuck-”

spencer’s voice was cut off by his phone ringing, vibrating on the nightstand beside you, and you felt his hips slow down, letting out a soft sigh as he was considering stopping completely.

you felt him hesitate but needed him to keep going, pushing your hips back into his trying to keep both of your focus.

“spence, please don’t stop” your voice still unsteady, “just ignore it”

spencer pulled out of you, and you let out a whine as the loss of contact. you rolled yourself over, making yourself comfortable on the pillows expecting him to walk away to return the call.

instead he leaned back over you and pulled you into a deep kiss, holding your face in both hands. your lips parting slightly when you felt his tongue lick your bottom lip, allowing your tongues to meet.

spencer grabbed his dick, rubbing over your clit before he lined himself up with you, gasping when he pushed himself in.

“you’re so fucking perfect angel”

he pulled away, lifting your legs up to your shoulders and latching his hands to your thighs. he found himself moving slow and deep, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt around him.

you moved your hands to play with your nipples, rolling the hard buds between your finger tips. he bent down, pushing his weight into you, almost like he was folding you. he pooled spit into his mouth before he let it go to your clit, moving his hand to the bundle of nerves.

“want you to cum again for me pretty girl, want one more before i fill you up”

you let out a moan, sighing before you went to speak “gonna fill me-”

you were cut off by the phone ringing again, the buzzing sound making you forget your thoughts. spencer dropped your thighs and leaned over before giving you a quick kiss before he reached over to grab phone.

“spencer do not answer that”

he moved his finger to his lips, making a shushing motion “it’s emily”

you rolled your eyes, ready to kick him out and finish yourself off before heading to bed when you felt him move again. he moved his hand to cover your mouth before answering the phone.

“doctor reid”

you felt yourself get wetter, the sound of your slick filling the room, your moan mumbled behind his hand. spencer’s motion was relentless, his pace quick and brutal, jabbing your sweet spot with every push.

“i thought we were getting the week off”

your leg was lifted up, making the angle even deeper and you felt your eyes roll back, out of pleasure or annoyance you couldn’t tell. there was no way you were getting called in.

“i can get a hold of her for you, i remember her mentioning something about having a date this week”

you grinned, giggling behind his hand before spencer moved the phone to hold it on his shoulder, letting his now free hand to move back down. he never took his eyes off you, holding a shit eating grin as he felt you squeezing him tighter, squirming at how close you were. you furrowed your brows and pinched your eyes shut.

“i’ll be there in an hour”

you heard the phone beep, signaling the call was disconnected. spencer moved his hand away from your mouth down to your neck, cursing as he heard you gasp.

“did so good for me pretty girl”

his hips stopped deep inside you as you felt his cock twitch, filling you up. he groaned as he felt you cumming again, keeping his thumb in place to help your orgasm finish and you let a loud moan out in response. spencer gave you a long kiss, nipping at your bottom lip before he trailed his lips down your neck. he pulled himself out of you, grinning at the soft sigh you let out. he kept his lips on your body, trailing them down your stomach before reaching your thighs and nipping at the sensitive skin.

he moved his tongue and licked a long strip up your pussy, sucking on your clit before pulling up to look at you, shit eating grin on his face. “we’ve got roughly 30 minutes, that’s enough time for me to help you clean up, right angel?”

[readwritealldayallnight]

“-other than that, wasn’t so bad.” Simon says, readjusting the material of the balaclava across the bridge of his nose with his free hand. His other hand is busy, keeping yours warm as you lead him down sidewalk after sidewalk.

The two of you have just finished having Sunday morning brunch at a local cafe, something you insisted was becoming ‘tradition’ after the second time it happened. And according to you, after finishing eating, (Simon never wanting to hear a word about you paying for a thing) the next part of this lazy morning routine calls for strolling about at a pace that he would normally find pointless, if not downright frustrating. But for you, he slows down.

“Butcher’s an interesting first job.” You reply, nodding along in thought. You picture a younger Simon, fresh out of school, probably fresh faced as well. He was likely as tall, though not yet as muscular as the military would make him. A meat clever in hand, bloody apron around his waist, he was likely still inadvertently intimidating people back then the way he does now. “I was mostly just taking babysitting jobs until I graduated. Liked it well enough.”

“I actually had to babysit a neighbour one time, when I was younger. Actual baby at tha’ too.” He tells you with a chuckle, slightly shaking his head at the memory.

“What?” You laugh as well, the image in your mind now swapping out the meat clever in a teenaged Simon’s grip for a drooling infant. “How did that work out?”

“Neighbour comes bangin’ on our door, she’s carryin’ the thing, it’s screamin’ its bloody little head off,” You roll your eyes at the way Simon refers to the child, swatting his arm playfully but listening on. “She tells me her husband thinks he’s havin’ a fuckin’ heart attack. None o’ the other neighbours are home or answerin’ the door. ‘Fore I know it, she’s passin’ me the kid, askin’ if mum can watch her while she drives him to the hospital. Next thing I know she’s gone and I’m left with the thing.”

“Oh my gosh! Well where was your mum?” You ask, in disbelief that you’ve never heard this story from him before, half wondering if he’s pulling your leg.

“She wasn’t home, I can tell you that! Only me and the new lil’ orphan were.” He utters, strengthening his grip on your hand as you start to hunch over with laughter.

“Okay so wait, you were home alone? Oh no! How long did you have to ‘babysit’ for?” You giggle.

“Well technically Tommy was there but he would’ve only been a hindrance, told him to stay in his room.” Simon adds, pulling his hand out of yours, only to wrap it around your shoulder, now that you’ve come to a standstill at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. “Fuckin’ nearly 4 hours went by before mum came home and took over. Longest hours o’ my life. I think that might’ve been the day I enlisted actually.”

You elbow his side as you continue to laugh, seeing that he’s teasing you at the end now. You open your mouth to tease him right back, but your eye catches sight of the shop you’ve been standing in front of, jaw dropping wider.

“Simon!” You’re pulling him with a strength he would otherwise be impressed by if he wasn’t so suddenly caught off guard, senses kicking into high alert now as his head swivels in search of the cause of your distress. “How have we never seen this before??”

Oh.

He should’ve known better.

He actually had been avoiding taking you down this street for a little while now, but had been too caught up in his story telling to notice the direction you’d taken in him. His subtle effort of wrapping his arm around you to tilt you away from the storefront obviously hadn’t worked out. He opens his mouth to answer, but can only sigh when you’re already making your way towards the entrance of the pet store.

“We’re only lookin’, right?” He asks loud enough for you to hear as he follows you in.

Wrong.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

[aria0fgold]

So the spider didn't go back outside but instead just completely went in the house. But I think this lil guy smelled my fear and took pity on me instead cuz I was so focused on reading a tumblr post when I just heard a quiet "pitter patter pitter patter."

I looked at the source and it's the spider making the loudest small steps it could on the linoleum floor and even stopping a bit for me to move away before it went under the couch. The ridiculousness of that "pitter patter" sound drowned out my fear and I like this spider now. What a polite lil guy.

[chxnsgirl]

필릭스 ─── hands on me

[ ⟡ ] ── NSFW, MDNI!  ✁ tattoo artist!felix x afab!reader , sliiight buildup , oral (f. rec) , unprotected p in v (don't be silly) this was a request ♡ i hope you like it ! ♡ masterlist

smut below the cut - minors gtfo.

it wasn't your first tattoo, but it was your first time going to this shop. 

what made it nerve-wracking was the fact that your tattoo artist, felix, was absolutely stunning. you had heard about him through a friend, and now, seeing him in person, it was impossible not to feel a little flustered.

felix was everything you imagined—and then some. his black hair, slightly tousled, framed a face that could've been carved by a master sculptor. the tattoos that covered his arms, neck, and chest were intricate and bold, each one telling a story. 

he also had a variety of piercings—small hoops and studs that caught the light in a way that was somehow both edgy and captivating. his warm eyes, though, were what really threw you off guard. despite his tough exterior, there was something soft, inviting, almost comforting about them.

but it wasn’t just his eyes that drew you in. you couldn’t help but focus on his lips, which were perfectly shaped—plump and naturally a little shiny, likely from the chapstick he kept applying. you found yourself getting lost in the way he spoke, your eyes lingering on his lips as he explained the tattoo process, trying not to blush every time he glanced your way.

he looked so damn good. and that only made your nerves skyrocket.

the tattoo itself wasn’t huge, but the idea of being alone with him, vulnerable as he worked on your skin, had you second-guessing everything. you had no idea how long you could stay still, especially with his hands so close to you.

after you filled out the paperwork, felix returned shortly, holding a few sketches he’d worked on. you had opted for a bite mark design on your inner thigh—something subtle but realistic, something that would look almost like a real imprint. you’d spent hours online researching, and now it was time to make it real. you looked at the options, your hand shaking slightly as you reached out to point at the one you liked the most.

“this one’s perfect,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended. your gaze lifted to meet his, feeling heat creep up your neck. you tried to push the nerves down, but it was hard when he was standing so close, his presence overwhelming in the best and worst ways.

felix chuckled softly, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he noticed your discomfort. his expression softened just a little, and he leaned in slightly, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the spot you had pointed to. “don’t worry,” he said, his voice low and calm, almost teasing. “we’ll take it slow. you’ll be fine.”

you nodded, trying to calm the storm of butterflies in your stomach. felix’s confidence was reassuring, but you couldn’t shake the mix of excitement and nerves swirling within you. 

felix slipped on his black gloves, the latex stretching over his fingers with a soft snap. he looked up at you, his gaze shifting between the paperwork on the counter and the spot you had indicated for your tattoo. "so, where did you say you wanted it again? your inner thigh?" his voice was steady, but there was a slight curiosity in his tone, maybe even a hint of hesitation.

you nodded, setting your bag down on the table next to the tattoo chair, your hands slightly trembling from both nerves and anticipation. "yeah, the inner thigh."

felix seemed to hesitate, his eyes flicking to your leggings. you could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to phrase his question just right. "um... are those rollable?" he asked, gesturing vaguely toward your leggings.

your stomach sank, realization hitting you. you had completely forgotten to bring a pair of safety shorts, the kind that would make this whole process a lot easier for both of you. you felt a knot tighten in your chest. "uh... no. they're not," you replied quietly, your voice barely above a whisper as you avoided his gaze, suddenly very aware of your clothing.

felix's eyes softened, and he nodded slowly, clearly understanding the situation. he seemed to be weighing his words, a slight furrow of uncertainty crossing his brow before he spoke again. "are you comfortable with... taking them off?" his voice was gentle, yet there was a note of hesitation there, as if unsure how you might react. "if not, it's okay. we can always reschedule, do it another day."

you felt the pressure of the moment, the weight of the decision hanging in the air. you knew you had to get this done—work was about to pick up, and you didn’t have much time to spare. you couldn’t afford to reschedule. after a brief moment of internal conflict, you sighed softly and gave a small, reassuring shake of your head. "i can take them off. it's fine," you said, your voice a little more steady now. you offered a smile, though it felt slightly forced.

felix's expression seemed to relax at your words, the tension in his shoulders easing. he gave you a small, reassuring smile in return, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "okay," he said gently. "i'll give you some privacy, then."

with that, he turned and made his way toward the door. his footsteps were quiet, almost deliberate, and before leaving, he glanced back at you once more. "let me know when you're ready," he said softly before closing the door behind him, leaving you in the room alone.

you stood there for a moment, a mix of emotions swirling through you. you knew it was just part of the process, but it felt more intimate than you anticipated. still, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what came next.

you called out softly, "i'm ready," your voice steady despite the storm of nerves coursing through you. moments later, the door creaked open, and felix stepped back in, his gaze carefully neutral as he approached.

"alright," he said warmly, his tone professional yet kind. he kept his focus on your face as he moved to his workstation, ensuring you didn’t feel self-conscious under his gaze. "let me just get everything set up."

you nodded, clutching the edge of the chair lightly, your palms damp. the air felt cooler against your exposed skin, heightening your awareness of the situation. you reminded yourself that this was just part of the process—felix was a professional, and you were in good hands.

felix busied himself organizing his tools, laying out the stencil, and double-checking the placement. when he turned back toward you, he knelt slightly to meet your eye level, his tone gentle. "alright, i’m going to place the stencil now. let me know if it feels off, okay?"

you swallowed hard and nodded again, your throat feeling tight. "okay," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

felix moved closer, his gloved hands brushing lightly against your skin as he positioned the stencil on your inner thigh. his touch was firm yet delicate, and the closeness of it all made your heart race even faster. you forced yourself to stay still, focusing on your breathing.

"how does that look?" felix asked, pulling back slightly to give you space to examine the placement. his eyes met yours, soft and reassuring, as if sensing your nervousness.

you glanced down, grateful for the chance to break eye contact. the stencil looked perfect—exactly where you’d envisioned it. "it’s great," you said, trying to sound more confident. "right where i wanted it."

"good," felix replied, smiling slightly as he stood up. he moved to adjust his machine, the hum of it filling the room a moment later. "you ready to get started? i’ll go slow at first, so you can get used to the feeling."

you nodded, gripping the armrests of the chair a little tighter. "yeah, i’m ready."

felix leaned in again, his presence calming despite the anxiety bubbling within you. his voice was gentle as he spoke. "just let me know if you need a break, okay? you’re doing great so far."

the first touch of the needle against your skin was sharp, but it was the kind of pain you could endure. you tried to focus on the steady hum of the machine and felix’s soft, calming instructions. still, his closeness made it hard to relax—his body angled toward you, his breath occasionally fanning over your skin, and the subtle brush of his hand near your inner thigh sent your heart racing.

felix worked with a laser focus, his movements precise and practiced as he outlined the stencil. his professionalism was clear, but the proximity made it impossible for you not to notice every little thing—the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth of his hands through the gloves, and the way his dark eyes stayed intently on his work.

lost in his task, felix leaned in further, his breath ghosting over your exposed skin. his knuckles brushed the outside of your underwear, a touch so light it could have been accidental, but it sent a jolt through you. the sensations from the needle—the sharpness, the vibrations—only seemed to amplify the growing heat in your core. you pressed your lips together, willing yourself to stay still, but the ache was becoming impossible to ignore.

as felix adjusted his position, his hand grazed just slightly closer, his knuckles brushing against your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. the contact was brief but electric, and a soft, involuntary whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it. the sound was barely audible over the hum of the tattoo machine, but felix froze instantly, his head snapping up.

his dark eyes locked onto yours, a mix of concern and something unspoken flashing across his face. “you okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with genuine care as he set the machine down on the tray beside him. his gaze flicked over your face, searching for any sign of distress.

your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. the weight of the situation hit you all at once—the intimacy of the moment, the vulnerability of being in this position with someone like felix, and the fact that he had noticed your reaction. you nodded quickly, your face burning as you tried to steady your breathing. "yeah, i’m fine," you said, your voice a little higher than usual, betraying your flustered state.

felix’s brows knitted together briefly, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced. he tilted his head slightly, his tone softening even further. "you sure? we can take a break if you need."

you swallowed hard, shaking your head more firmly this time. "no, really, i’m okay. just... sensitive, i guess." you gave a nervous laugh, hoping to brush it off.

felix’s lips curved into a small, understanding smile, though there was still something unreadable lingering in his expression. "alright," he said gently. "but if anything feels uncomfortable, you let me know, okay?"

you nodded again, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment as he returned to his work. his focus shifted back to the tattoo, but the tension in the air felt heavier now, charged with an energy neither of you acknowledged. you closed your eyes, willing yourself to stay composed, though the sensation of his hands and the steady vibrations made it a challenge you weren’t sure you’d win.

throughout the duration of the tattoo session, you tried your best to maintain a calm composure, hiding the telltale signs of your arousal as you and felix talked about random things. but felix could see and smell it all too clearly. the scent of your desire wafted through the air, filling his senses and causing an immediate reaction in his jeans. his member began to thicken and strain against the fabric, already tight on its own.

though he knew he needed to remain professional, the sight and smell of your arousal was impossible to resist. he couldn't help but lean in closer, selfishly inhaling more of your intoxicating scent as he worked deftly on your skin. as his breath brushed against your core, a shiver ran down your spine.

but then he caught a glimpse of your slick glistening through your panties, and he almost let out an audible groan. it was clear that you were completely turned on by him and his touch, and he couldn't resist pushing the boundaries just a little further. 

you squirmed slightly, the movement catching his attention. "still doing okay?" felix asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. the words were laced with a subtle edge, a hint of something more.

"y-yeah," you stammered, your voice unsteady. your face felt hot, and you avoided his gaze, knowing that if you looked at him now, you might lose whatever shred of composure you had left.

felix's lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he refocused on the tattoo. he told himself to stop, to keep this professional, but the temptation was maddening. his hand brushed against your thigh again, his knuckles grazing higher this time, and he swore he felt you shiver.

he glanced up, his dark eyes locking with yours. the room felt unbearably small, the air thick with tension. felix hesitated, his professionalism warring with the primal desire that had been building since the session began.

he leaned back slightly, setting the tattoo machine down. his gloves flexed as he adjusted them, his voice soft but firm when he finally spoke. "you’re... really sensitive here," he said, his words carrying more weight than their innocent meaning should have.

you swallowed hard, your breath quickening. "yeah, i guess so," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

felix leaned in again, his face so close you could feel the heat of his breath. "if this gets too much for you... or if you need anything, just say the word," he said, his tone almost daring you to admit what he already knew.

the tension in the room was unbearable, the air thick with unspoken desire. felix's hand had just brushed your slick panties again, his breath hot against your inner thigh, when you jolted slightly, a soft gasp escaping your lips. your body was trembling, the sensations overwhelming as your arousal built to a point where you could barely think straight.

"felix," you breathed, your voice unsteady as you placed a hand on his wrist, stopping his movements. "i... i need a second."

he froze immediately, his dark eyes snapping up to meet yours, filled with concern. his hand withdrew gently, and he sat back slightly, giving you space. "are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice steady but laced with worry.

you nodded quickly, swallowing hard as you tried to steady your breathing. "yeah, i’m just... it’s a lot," you admitted, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. you couldn’t meet his gaze, but when you glanced down, you caught sight of the prominent bulge in his jeans, straining against the fabric. your breath hitched at the realization, and your eyes darted back up to his.

felix followed your gaze and cursed under his breath, running a gloved hand through his dark hair. "i’m sorry," he murmured, his voice rougher now. he shifted slightly, as if trying to relieve some of the pressure, but it was no use.

your heart raced at his words, a mix of embarrassment and intrigue flooding through you. "felix..." you started, your voice trembling.

he leaned closer, his gaze locking onto yours, his expression equal parts hesitant and desperate. "if this is too much, we can stop," he said, his tone sincere. "but... if you want, i can help you." his words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

your lips parted, your mind spinning at the offer. "help me?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

felix nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "you know what i mean." he said, his voice dropping an octave, "i can take care of it. only if you want me to." his gloved hand rested lightly on your thigh, his touch both comforting and suggestive, and his eyes were pleading.

you hesitated, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you considered his words. the ache between your legs was unbearable, and the thought of his skilled hands—or more—bringing you relief was almost too tempting to resist. but the intensity of the moment, the sheer intimacy of what he was offering, made you pause.

"only if you’re sure," felix added, his voice softer now. "i don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with."

you gave him a nod, your voice wavering. “words, y/n.” he said, setting the tool down and taking his gloves off. “i-i’m sure,” you said nervously.

that was all felix needed. he yanked off his gloves, tossing them aside in a hurry. a growl rumbled low in his chest as he leaned in, his hand sliding higher along your thigh, skimming the edge of your panties. his lips were tantalizingly close to your skin, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. 

his fingers brushed against the damp fabric of your panties, a teasing, feather-light touch that made you gasp softly. felix smirked, his eyes darkening as he saw the effect he had on you. "so wet," he murmured, his thumb pressing lightly against your clit through the fabric, drawing a whimper from your lips. "is this all for me?"

you nodded, your body arching into his touch as a soft moan escaped you. felix groaned, leaning down to press his lips against your thigh, his kisses slow and deliberate.

 he tugged your panties aside, exposing you fully to his gaze. your pretty lips were glistening, sopping wet with your essence. his eyes drank you in, and he licked his lips before looking up at you. "i want to make you feel good," he said, his voice husky with need. "will you let me?"

"please," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

felix didn’t hesitate. he dropped to his knees in front of the chair, his hands gripping your thighs as he pulled you closer to the edge. 

his touch was gentle and careful as he moved your thighs apart, mindful not to disturb your freshly inked skin. with one hand holding your panties to the side and the other spreading your lips open, he marveled at the sight between your legs. "fuck, you're so wet," he murmured before leaning in for a taste.

the sensation of his tongue piercing against your sensitive flesh caught you by surprise, but it was a welcomed one. a wave of satisfaction rippled through you as he flicked his tongue against your clit with skilled precision. your hand found its way to his head, fingers tangling into his hair and tugging occasionally in pleasure. he looked up at you, a hand running along the inside of your thigh as he lavished attention on your bud.

a deep growl rumbled from his chest as he buried his face deeper into your cunt, sucking and licking with fervent desire. you couldn't hold back the loud moan that escaped your lips or the way your body arched towards him. "just like that," you praised him through heavy breaths, hips bucking against his face desperately.

it was too much. the sight of felix between your legs, his nose buried in your mound and the wet, sloppy noises of him eating you out sent a sharp pang to your core. with a few more sucks from his mouth, you came undone - stars exploding behind closed eyes and pleasure coursing through every inch of your body. felix eagerly lapped up every drop of you, not pulling away until you gently guided his head off of you.

he stood up in front of you, smiling down with pride and lust in his eyes. "feeling better?" he asked playfully. you could only nod, cheeks flushed darkly from the intense encounter that had just occurred. your gaze drifted down to the prominent bulge in his jeans, knowing that he needed release too. "let me help you," you muttered, eagerly reaching for him.

felix’s grin faltered for a moment as your words sank in. his dark eyes widened slightly, and then his smirk returned, this time tinged with a hint of surprise and desire. "you don’t have to do that," he said softly, though the way his voice betrayed just how much he wanted you to.

you swallowed hard, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm, but your gaze remained fixed on the straining bulge in his jeans. the thought of him, thick and hard, made your core clench again. you shook your head, your voice steadier now. "i want to."

felix’s jaw tightened, and he let out a low groan, as though he was fighting every instinct he had. "are you sure?" he asked, his hands flexing at his sides. "this wasn’t supposed to go this far. i... i don’t want you to feel pressured."

you stood slowly from the chair, your knees still a little shaky, but your determination unwavering. your hands reached for his belt, and when you looked up at him, your eyes were full of intent. "i’m sure, felix," you said softly, your fingers working the buckle open. 

he let out a sharp breath, his restraint snapping as he nodded. "fuck," he muttered, his hands coming to rest on your hips. "i’m not going to hold back, then."

with that, felix helped guide you as you undid his jeans, his cock springing free, the sight making your breath catch. he was surprisingly thick, the head flushed and already leaking precum, and the sheer size of him only made your arousal spark anew. felix leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his hands sliding down to grip your ass as he pulled you flush against him. 

“bend over that counter for me.” he instructed you, patting your barely clothed ass. you did just that, bending over the counter and arching your back for him slightly. he yanked your panties to the side again, getting behind you hurriedly. he rubbed his fat tip against your wet lips, coating himself with a groan. he pushed himself inside you slowly, as if savoring every inch being swallowed by your cunt. each second of his cock filling you was pure bliss; he felt divine. 

he buried himself to the hilt, a low, throaty groan leaving his lips. he ran his hands up your back, catching your shoulder to pull you back against him. “oh, you feel so good,” he grunted, slowly pistoning his cock in and out of your cunt. he lifted your leg carefully, helping you rest it on the counter so he could fuck you better. 

his hands roamed your body as he fucked into you, one of them resting in the crevice of your thighs and your hip, squeezing into your flesh. he sped up quickly, rutting into you with low growls and curses. his thick tip massaged your g-spot so deliciously, making a pit form deep in your stomach. you whined loudly, crying out in bliss as he stretched you fully.

felix abruptly halted when he heard a sharp knock at his door, and he cursed under his breath. "i'm with a client," he hollered, his hands still kneading your flesh while he paused inside you. the sound of footsteps retreating from outside his door made him exhale heavily with relief. he quickly returned to thrusting into you with renewed vigor, the thrill of almost getting caught fueling his actions. 

as he continued to fuck you senseless, you whimpered in excitement, knowing that any minute someone could walk in on you both. "you almost got us caught," felix growled, increasing his pace to an unrelenting one as he whispered dirty words in your ear. the possibility of being caught only heightened the intense pleasure pulsating through your body, and you couldn't help but moan louder with each powerful thrust.

felix moaned loudly as your pussy tightened around him, fluttering and milking him with every delicious movement. "f-fucking...shit, you're gonna make me cum already," he choked out hoarsely. his fingers dug into your skin now and his hips were moving quickly and urgently as he chased his release.

your ass slapped against his waist, the loud clapping sounds echoing in the room. "cum in me," you whimpered, glancing back at him over your shoulder with pleading eyes. he didn't need to be told twice and obliged, your words sending him over the edge in no time. with a deep growl, he threw his head back and bit his lip as he emptied himself inside of you. he pumped you full with his load, his cock twitching with each spurt of cum.

you whined in pleasure, your eyes fluttering closed as he continued to thrust slowly in and out of you, mixing his release with your own essence. his gaze never left where your bodies were connected, as if he was in a trance from how thoroughly fucked out he was. 

he finally pulled out wetly, helping you stand back upright. “are you okay?” he asked, tucking himself away quickly and helping you fix your panties. you nodded, still dazed from the thorough fucking he gave you. “yeah, th-thanks for helping me,” you looked up at him, a dark blush on your face. 

he grinned and zipped his pants back up. “don’t mention it,” he nodded toward the chair. “should we continue?”

needless to say, you continued. and you definitely would be coming back.

tags: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek

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